#and you talk about THE REAL HARD GROWN UP SHIT

[autumnrory]

it does seem like insane commentary about lorelai and rory compared to other gg characters (moreso rory, always more towards rory THAT'S MY FUCKING GIRL i'm so tired seeing it) has gotten a lot worse the last couple years and idk if it's like, an influx of new viewers or something that are looking at gilmore girls with a 2024 lens, though if that is the case you really SHOULD be criticizing a lot of the other characters just as much if not more

but it's like, idk, i think if gilmore girls were made now it would be a very different show (it WAS a very different show as proven by ayitl lmao) and idk if the things that made the show so good and iconic at the time are the things that bug people watching it for the first time now idk why that would be because honestly there's way less grossness in gg than there is in other shows that aired at the time, especially shows on the wb/cw but like i just don't know what the deal is

the thing about these takes that rory and lorelai are the real villains is like......no one on gilmore girls is the villain (dean is imo but that's it) because we SEE the complexities of their characters like, one thing ASP does really well is make you feel sympathy for someone even when they've just pissed you off, shows what's behind their behavior, which doesn't justify it in most cases, but does make you understand it's not as simple as just Being An Asshole and like, idk even being the main characters, rory and lorelai get that treatment too, they're not always shown as being the wronged parties or keeping their cool, they are just as complex (and you know, therefore flawed human beings) as the characters you might think were written to be the antagonists

like idk you can like paris or emily or logan or whoever you think is ~so much better~ than lorelai and rory without trying to act like none of those characters ever did anything wrong and that lorelai was just wrong for not understanding her mother after growing up with so much hurt for sixteen years and then having one "mistake" held against you your entire adult life or that rory is a bad friend to paris for maybe not being as invested in their relationship even though time and time again rory shows kindness to paris after her cruelest moments that rory never did anything to deserve btw liiiiiiike some critical thinking i beg of you

[katsu28]

oscar's a grouch (or is he?)

pairing: oscar piastri x reader

summary: to your knowledge, oscar piastri really doesn't like you. but a night out in monaco makes you realize that maybe you don't know oscar's feelings towards you quite as well as you think you do. (3.7k)

warnings: swearing, unwanted advances from a man (not oscar, don't worry), a smidge of landoscar if u squint really hard

a/n: idk about y'all but this summer break is killing me 😭 i just wanna see my boys on track again is that too much to ask. anyways here's some oscar bc he's been giving literal crumbs lately (except for casually mentioning his broken fucking rib)

You’re not even sure what you're celebrating tonight. 

All you know is Lando called you a few hours ago demanding you come to some club with him and a few of his other driver friends, and who were you to deny yourself a fun night out? Especially one where you can put all your drinks on Lando’s tab. (You’re not a gold digger—Lando refuses to let you pay for most things when you go out because he, and you quote, ‘makes a shit ton of money, so why not use it’.) 

Now you’re here, sipping the last of your third (fourth maybe?) drink of the night until there’s nothing but ice. 

The music blasting through the club is so loud you feel the bass thumping in your chest, and it only gets louder when you venture through the crowd in search of the group you came with.

Somehow you’d gotten separated, but it’s really not too hard to locate them. All you have to do is look for a very tall, very polite looking British man a head taller than everyone else, and then you’ve found George Russell.

He spots you too, beckoning you over into the VIP section with a cool nod of his head. All the other drivers are around too—Carlos winks at you over the rather brightly patterned mini umbrella in his drink, Max tips his glass at you as you make your way by. 

Charles and Oscar sit together on a sofa further into the section, seeming deep in conversation, but look up as you pass them. The Monegasque reaches up to give you a fist bump, and Oscar just blinks at you, taking a measured swig of his beer. You fight the urge to sigh at his standoffishness. 

Over the years, Lando’s friends have quickly become your friends too, but Oscar Piastri is an enigma you have yet to crack. You know he’s on the quieter side because Lando had warned you of it before you’d met Oscar for the first time, but you weren’t expecting completely and totally icy.

The Oscar that Lando always talks about excitedly is an entirely different person than the Oscar you’ve become familiar with. 

It seems like he can barely look you in the eye whenever you try to make small talk with him, and you don’t think you’ve ever been alone with him because he always finds a way to slip away before you can even try to make a genuine connection with him. 

What makes things even better (read: worse) is that despite all that, you’ve grown a small crush on Oscar. You’re not sure how, and you’re not sure why, but that doesn’t make your feelings any less real. You’ve accepted that this is just the way things will always be with him, you with a pesky crush and him not wanting anything to do with you. 

You find Lando quickly, bopping around to the beat of the song playing without a care in the world. He looks like he’s having the time of his life, and when he spots you, he positively beams, waving wildly at you. 

“Hey, you!” He exclaims. “How are you? I love you!” 

“I love you too!” You chuckle. “I was gonna get another drink, d’you want anything?” 

“What?” He yells, brows furrowing. “You’re gonna dye your hair pink?”

“Another drink, dummy! Do you want another drink?” You make sure he’s looking at you this time, over-enunciating your words, so he’ll understand them. He narrows his eyes at you in the dim lighting but gets the gist of your question, perking up at the possibility of yet another drink. 

“More vodka shots, baby! One for you, one for me! No, one for everyone!” He giggles, slinging an arm around your shoulders.

His movement is so enthusiastic he nearly tips the two of you over, stumbling on his feet clumsily. You’re quick to push him back into an upright position, grimacing with effort as you trudge over to the nearest sofa and deposit him onto the seat unceremoniously. 

“Oh, this is nice,” He sighs, stroking the leather dreamily. “I should—I should get one of these for my place. D’you think they’d let me take it home?” 

“I really don’t think so, Lan,” You reply, amused. “Stay here. Don’t leave this sofa.” 

Lando groans, tilting his head back against the cushions. “Okay, mum. God!” 

Right, so maybe he doesn’t need those extra shots after all. 

You shoot him one more stern look before leaving him behind and heading for the bar, quietly tasking Carlos with making sure Lando doesn’t do anything stupid while you’re gone. 

There’s an empty spot at the bar when you approach, and you slide in, fingers tapping on the countertop idly as you wait for the bartender to finish up other drinks. 

“Hey.” 

You glance to your left to see a man you don’t recognize, smiling at you.

“Hi.” You say back, pressing your lips into a polite smile. You’re hoping that’ll be the end of the conversation, because you’re not really in the mood to be talking to someone you don’t know when all you’re trying to do is order something. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing all alone in a club like this?” His eyes rake over you from head to toe as he says it, shamelessly checking you out with a glint in his eye that makes you feel dirty. 

You take a small, calculated step backward, and much to your dismay, he takes that as an invitation to inch forward. “I’m with a group of friends.” 

“Are they all as attractive as you?” He must think he’s being smooth, but it just makes you even more uncomfortable. 

“Pretty sure they’re not your type,” You reply flatly. “Unless you’re into dudes.” 

The man’s nostrils flare, like you’re accusing him of something absurd. “I’m not. I’ve only dated girls. Really hot girls.” 

“Uh…good for you? I don’t really—” 

“What’s your name? I bet it’s something sexy.” 

“Y’know, my friends are probably wondering where I am, so I’m just gonna—” 

“What’s the rush, sweetheart? I’m just trying to get to know you,” He drawls, stroking clammy fingers over the back of your hand. You yank it away, reaching up to adjust the strap of your top just so he wasn’t touching you anymore. Maybe a little bit harsh, but the vibe you’re getting from him isn’t good at all. 

“I have a boyfriend,” You reply stiffly. It’s a boldfaced lie, but you're hoping you sound convincing enough to get this guy off your case. He’s starting to make you nervous. 

He takes an overdramatic look at your surroundings before focusing back on you, shrugging. “I don’t see one.” 

As if the universe is presenting you with a way out, you spot Oscar walking by at that very second, and before you can think you're grabbing his hand, tugging him towards you. He comes willingly, but looks slightly confused as you tuck yourself close to him.

He’s definitely not your first choice, but right now you don't think you can afford to be picky. At least it's someone you know. 

You pop up on your tiptoes to wrap your arms around his neck, lips almost pressed to his cheek as you whisper, “Please play along.”

His eyes flick between you and your unwanted conversation partner, and for a moment you think he might blow your cover, but he slides an arm around you after you turn back around, resting his hand on the small of your back. 

You force yourself to ignore the effect it has on you, instead opting to press a little more into his side. His torso is firm under your trembling hands, tense if anything, but the steady rise and fall of his level breathing provides comfort. 

“We got a problem here, mate?” Oscar’s voice sounds more serious than you've ever heard it, and when you look up at him, he looks downright scary.  He towers over both you and the guy you're desperately trying to get rid of, brow furrowed, jaw set. You’re glad that look has never been aimed at you.

The guy shifts nervously on his feet, but still holds his ground. Not a good idea, anyone with an ounce of common sense could see that. “No problems, just trying to have a friendly conversation.” 

“Doesn’t look very friendly to me. Looks like you’re bothering my girlfriend.” 

“Dunno what to tell you, mate. We were just chatting, weren’t we, sweetheart?” 

You wrinkle your nose in disgust, feeling safe enough to do so tucked under Oscar’s arm like you are right now. This guy might be a fucking creep, but he’s not stupid enough to go up against Oscar. “No.” 

He glowers at you, and you feel Oscar’s palm come around, curling around your waist protectively. “Seems like that’s settled then. I reckon you should leave now.” Oscar’s tone leaves absolutely no room for discussion.

Is it wrong that you find it hot? 

“Fine. Don’t need to waste my time on bitches anyways.” 

Oscar stiffens. He moves forward like he’s about to throw a punch, but you’re quicker, splaying your palm over his very sturdy chest to stop him before he does anything rash. You don’t think it’ll go over too well with McLaren higher ups if they learn that one of their drivers got into a fight at a club. 

“He’s not worth it, Osc,” You say softly. He looks down at you, sees the look in your eyes, and his posture relaxes just a little bit. You’re not sure how long the two of you hold each other’s gaze, but when you finally tear your eyes away from his, the guy is long gone. 

Only then do you step away from Oscar, straightening yourself out as much as you can given how things could’ve ended had he not been there to save your ass. He steps away too. With the guy no longer around, there’s no reason for you to be that close together. 

“You alright?” He mumbles, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. Even in the dim lighting of the club, you can see how red his cheeks are. 

“Yeah. Fine. That guy was just really freaking me out.” 

“Are you sure? That you’re okay, I mean. ‘Cause yeah, that guy was a creep.” 

“Total creep,” You agree, bobbing your head. “But I’m sure. I’m, uh, I’m sorry for putting you on the spot like that. I don’t know what I would’ve done had you not been there, so…thank you. I know it was probably a little hard for you, but thanks anyways.” 

That last part was likely not necessary, but you’re a smidge tipsy right now. You’ll blame your loose lips on the alcohol. 

Oscar’s brow pinches in the middle, head tilting in confusion. “What?” 

“Pretending to be my boyfriend. Pretending to like me.” 

“Why would that be hard for me?” 

“Uh, I dunno, maybe ‘cause you don’t.” 

“You—wait, you think I don’t like you?” Oscar looks truly befuddled at your insinuation, and you frown, because from your side of things, it’s pretty damn clear. 

“I’m not, like, upset or hurt, or anything. You have a right to dislike whoever you want, I don’t care,” You shrug, craning your neck to look for the bartender. 

“It’s not true.” 

You hum absentmindedly, not really paying attention to his words. Where was that damn bartender? You need that drink, now. Oscar’s fingers wrap around your forearm loosely, but tight enough to grab your attention again. “What?” 

“I don’t…not like you.” 

“I said I don’t care, Oscar. You don’t have to try and make me feel better. It’s fine,” You assure him. You really wish he’d stop pushing the subject. “Just drop it, yeah? Thanks for the save, you can go back to the group now.” 

He regards you blankly for a long few seconds, then he opens his mouth, and just when you think he’s about to say something, it snaps shut. Then he pivots on his heel and starts to walk away. You roll your eyes, turning back to the bar. After all this, you definitely need another drink. Preferably a strong one. 

Maybe you’ll get those shots Lando wanted after all. 

The bartender finally spots you and you sigh in relief, glad and ready to finally get what you came for, but before you can get a word out, you’re being dragged away by the hand. 

You nearly scream, your mind jumping to the worst conclusion before your gaze lands on the same broad shoulders, the same head of brown hair that had just left you not seconds ago. It’s Oscar pulling you through the crowd, and even though you’re beyond relieved, you’re also confused and a little bit pissed off. 

“What’re you—hey! Oscar!” You have to shout over the pulsing music, but either he can’t hear you or he’s choosing to ignore you, because he doesn’t stop. 

He muscles through the crowd with surprising ease with you stumbling along behind him until you’re outside the club, in some sort of private patio area. There’s no one else out here and you’re glad for it, because you have half a mind to yell at him.

Oscar drops your hand, running his fingers through his hair, and when he looks up, you detect confliction in those big brown eyes of his. It almost derails your thought process, but you scowl. 

“What is your problem?” You snap, folding your arms over your chest angrily. 

“You think I don’t like you.” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, pinching the bridge of your nose. “This again? Fucking hell, I told you to forget about it, Oscar. I meant that.” 

“No, I’m not gonna—you said it, so you obviously meant it. I wanna know why,” He insists. “Why do you think I don’t like you?” 

“Maybe because you haven’t exactly given me anything else to go off of? You always brush me off when I try to talk to you, and when I do get you to have a conversation with me, you can barely look me in the eye. And I swear, it’s like you find every excuse to not be around me.” 

You can’t resist the urge to allow a slightly bitter sounding laugh escape you because, fuck, no matter how many times you tell yourself that you don’t care what Oscar thinks of you, that you don’t give a crap about how it looks like he’s only this way with you, you do care. 

You care so much it makes you want to scream into the void. You shouldn’t care, but you do. 

“So you can say that it’s not true, you can tell me I’m wrong all you want, but I’m just telling it as I see it.” 

Oscar blinks at you again in that way he always does when you talk, the way that makes you want to smack him upside the head but also kiss him senseless too, just to see if he’d react differently. 

“I’m an idiot,” He says. You press your lips together. There won’t be any denying that fact from you. 

He groans, tipping his back towards the sky. “I’m an idiot. It’s not because I don’t like you. It’s—” He pauses, sighing. Crossing his arms, uncrossing them, weighing his options. “It’s because I do like you. A lot. I like you to the point where I don’t know how to act around you without the fear I might do or say something stupid, and then you’ll think I’m a dickhead.” 

“So you thought completely icing me out was…you not being a dickhead?” 

He wrinkles his nose, like he's just realized what his actions must’ve looked like to an outside party. “Oh. That’s not what I meant to….fuck, you must think I’m such a—”

“Dickhead?” You supply helpfully. He nods, shoulders slumping. 

You’re used to long stretches of silence with Oscar, but this one feels different. Now that you know he doesn’t totally hate your guts, the silence isn’t totally unbearable. He steps closer, watching you, gauging your reaction to his movements like you’re some sort of unpredictable creature. 

If anything, Oscar’s the unpredictable one. 

“So…” You start, tilting your head. “You like me?” 

Oscar exhales sharply, nodding. “Guess it might be a bit of a shocker, but I do.”  

“And you already know I like you.” 

“I’ve noticed, yeah,” He says, lips quirking up into a small smile. “What do we do now?”

“Maybe we take things slow. Get to know each other first, ‘cause I dunno if you’ve noticed, but one of us spent a lot of time ignoring the other,” You lilt, half joking. Oscar rolls his eyes playfully, but nods his agreement nonetheless. “I think for now, we should get back inside. I’ve got to make sure Lando hasn’t tried to steal the sofa from right out the section.” 

Oscar’s nose scrunches, head cocking to the side in bewilderment. “I’m sorry, what?” 

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you about it another time.” 

“How about tomorrow over dinner?” He blurts, running a hand through his hair. It flops right back into place, one stray curl hanging over his forehead that he doesn’t seem to notice as he smiles hopefully at you. 

“I’d like that.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Duh.” 

His smile grows bigger, pushing up his cheeks so much it makes his eyes crinkle at the edges. You’ve never been the receiver of this smile before, and now that you are, you never want him to stop smiling at you like this. “Okay. Okay, cool. I’ll text you.” 

“Don’t you need my number for that?” 

“Oh, I’ve uh, I’ve got it already. I nabbed it from Lando’s phone a while ago. Just in case I gathered up the courage to message you. Which I didn’t, as you could probably tell,” He replied, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I wanted to though. I just—I didn’t know what to say.” 

“How’d you get into his phone?” 

He snorts this time, raising a brow at you. “His password’s 4444. Not exactly mission impossible.” 

You really need to have a talk with your friend about Internet safety one of these days. 

The aforementioned friend throws his hands up into the air when he spots you making your way back into the section as soon as you re-enter the club, bouncing over to you to wrap you in a giant hug. Lando mumbles something you can’t understand into your ear and giggles, then spots Oscar lingering behind you and positively screeches, reaching to pull him into the hug too. 

You don’t have time to get your arms out of where they’re trapped against your sides in Lando’s surprisingly vice-like grip before Oscar stumbles forward into your back at his friend’s harsh tug, cheek smushing against the top of your head. The muttered sorry he offers you does nothing to quell your rocket fast heartbeat at being this close to him for the first time.

“Look at us!” Lando hiccups, squeezing you both as tight as he can. Not an easy feat when you’re hugging two people at once. He bumps his forehead against yours gently to draw your attention back to him. (More like lightly headbutted, but you remain un-concussed so you won’t hold it against him.) “Hey, you’re in a papaya sandwich!” 

Oscar’s low chuckle vibrates through his chest and you feel it rumble through you too. You also feel his pinky curl around your own, thumb pressing against the inside of your wrist tenderly. 

It’s a subtle gesture, one that might not seem like much to anyone else, but you’ve gone from sort of acquaintances to something a little more than friends in the span of less than an hour.

Are you even friends now? You can’t even answer that. You like him and he likes you, but the only time you’ve ever spent together has been around other people. 

Still, only two points of contact—you’re not even holding hands and you think you might spontaneously combust. 

But you have to play it cool. 

The good thing about drunk Lando is that his attention span is close to zero, so he quickly grows bored of sandwiching you into a McLaren hug and wanders off again, most likely in search of another drink. You feel like it would be a good idea to stop him but you plop onto the nearest couch instead, letting your head tip against the back of it. 

To your surprise, Oscar motions for you to scooch over, slotting himself into the extra space you create. There’s a respectful distance left between yourselves, but then he leans towards you to be heard over the music.

“Your pulse was racing.” 

“Gee, I wonder why,” You muse. “Definitely not because of how I feel about you.” 

“Ha ha. You’re funny.” 

“See what you’ve been missing out on all this time?” You joke, head lolling to the side to grin at him. 

“I see it.” He’s looking at you unabashedly already, eyes drinking you in like he’s parched and you’re water. The intensity of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine, and god, you want to kiss him so bad right now. 

Instead you take a deep breath, fixing him to the spot with a pointed look. “Stop staring, or you’ll draw attention.” 

Oscar startles like he wasn’t aware he was staring that hard at you, mumbling out another apology before retreating back to his own bubble of space stiffly. 

You feel a tad guilty now. You didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but you and Oscar haven’t even begun to understand what you are to each other yet, and the last thing you want is the driver rumor mill to start spinning its wheels about your budding relationship before you even knew if there was going to be a relationship. It’s the kind of thing you want to keep under wraps until the two of you figure things out. 

Sighing lightly, you slide your hand along the empty space separating you, curling your pinky around his the same way he did earlier. Part of you expects he’ll shy away, so when he reciprocates the action, you’re pleasantly relieved. 

There’s still quite a bit of getting to know each other to be done, but you’re excited to see what this next chapter with Oscar holds.

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[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

[rafeandonlyrafe]

baby shoes

words: 2.3k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, best friend!rafe, childhood friends to lovers, pretty fluffy :), p in v sex, unprotected smut, breeding!, pregnancy kink?, no actual sex while pregnant but lots of like. bump descriptions?

rafe rolls his eyes as you let out a squeal, already knowing what is happening.

“oh. my. god.” you pick up the baby shoes off the shelf, a pair of sparkly flats with the cutest flower straps you've ever seen. “rafe, they're so tiny!”

you hold them up for him to look at as if he's never seen baby shoes before, despite you pointing them out to him every time you're out shopping together.

“yeah, real cute.” he says, keeping his voice completely monotone.

“rafe, don't be so sour.” you pout at him. your friendship is an unexpected one. started in kindergarten and has only grown closer since, your sweet nature in contrast to rafes hard exterior.

“y/n.” rafe sighs, taking the baby shoes from your hands as he sets them back on the shelf. “we look at baby shoes and onesies every time we go to target. i brought you here to buy you a pair of boots, let's go.”

rafe tries to usher you down the aisle. despite you also being a kook he refuses to let you (or, really, your parents credit card) pay for anything.

you nod and continue to the women's section when you cross by a pair of ugg boots made for toddlers and stop in your tracks. “raaaafe!” you coo.

--

look how cute this baby is rafey

“are you serious?” rafe questions reading your text message. “im laying right next to you.”

“too much work to roll over and show you.” you shrug, both scrolling on your phones, having just gotten back from a long day. so long rafe insisted you slept at his because it was closer. only one block closer, but you didn't argue. rafes bed is also yours, and yours his. you've always shared, no need to change now just because you're older.

“that baby isn't even that cute.” rafe huffs out.

you turn over now, rolling onto your stomach to glare at him. “rafe cameron, you are such a dick!”

“oh, so you'll roll over to yell at me?” rafe questions, a smile on his face. usually he wouldn't take shit from anyone, but you're not just anyone to him.

“yes because you deserve it asshole. that baby is adorable.”

“yours would be way cuter.” rafe grins, knowing how flustered you get talking about having a child of your own.

“okay, true.” 

--

“what the fuck is going on?” rafe questions, his mouth literally dropping as he walks in.

“oh my god!” you squeal. “you told me you were coming over at 2, you idiot!” 

rafe looks at the time on your alarm clock. 1:55. rafe may have not knocked before letting himself in, but he figured it was fine. 

“what are you wearing?”

“it's… it's a fake pregnancy belly. my friend carly who works with the school plays said they were getting rid of it bc it was getting old… and i asked to have it.” you shrug, your embarrassment melting away the longer you talk about it.

“why would you want that?” rafe questions.

“i just wanted to see what id look like.” you shrug, turning again to look at yourself in the mirror, running your hands over the tshirt stretching around the plastic material. “i think i look cute.”

rafes eyes are on the round swell of your belly. he thinks you look more than cute, he thinks you look so ravishing he wants to make that belly real right this second.

“gonna take a shower.” rafe makes a turn towards your bathroom before you can argue, saving himself by locking the door behind him.

-- 

“why are you in a mood?” rafe just entered your house but he can already tell from the look on your face that something has upset you.

“freaking kelsey is pregnant.” you spit her name out like it's an insult. she's been your sworn moral enemy ever since she “dated” rafe in the fourth grade and told him he had to choose between staying friends with you or dating her. he chose staying friends of course, but you've despised her anyways since.

“okay…” rafe waits for more reasoning to you being so upset.

“that should be me.” you whine, not ashamed as you throw a little tantrum, stomping your feet on the ground.

“it can be.” rafe shrugs.

“huh?” you question, plopping back on the couch behind you, waiting for rafe to join you for movie night.

“you're not a kid anymore, y/n. you're 21. have a baby if you want.” rafe simply states.

“i- who would i even have a baby with? im single.” you've been single a majority of your life. there were flings in high school, but no one that lasted.

what you don't know if rafe contributed heavily to those relationships ending. he had staked his claim on you, and no guy was worthy in his eyes.

“id help you raise a baby.” rafe says without really thinking, sitting down on the couch next to you, not flinching as you turn to place your feet on his lap, always wanting to stretch out and get comfortable.

“you would?”

“im with you all the time anyways.” rafe nods. “if you had a baby id basically be their dad anyways.”

“id want that.” you admit. “you're the only guy out there i trust enough to get me pregnant.” you're not really thinking about your words themselves as you press your fingers to your stomach, imagining it filled up with a baby, with rafes baby.

“alright, we gotta talk about something else.” rafe shifts on the couch, pushing your feet off his lap to turn himself slightly away from you.

“wait why?” you question, sitting forward.

“just… change the subject.” rafe takes a deep breath, trying to calm down the boner that is growing in his pants.

“no, tell me!” you move closer, which only makes rafe turn away more. “tell me, rafey!”

he's never kept anything from you, and shockingly you can't figure out why he's behaving like this now.

“jesus, stop!” rafe scooches away when you grab onto his arm, trying to get him to face you, to look at you.

“tell me!” you complain again.

“because im fucking hard okay!” rafe shouts, standing up from the couch. “it's getting me fucking hard thinking about getting you pregnant so change the fucking subject!”

you sit on the couch in shock, eyes wide open. you know you shouldn't, he's your best friend after all, but you find your eyes moving lower, and sure enough, the front of rafes pants and tented, cock pushing away from his body.

“i-i-” you stammer.

“you nothing. okay? we forget this happened. just stop talking about getting fucking pregnant and stop talking about me being the one to do it.”

“but i want it to be you.” you blink up at rafe, head suddenly clearing. you do want it or be rafe. he's the only one who should be waking up in the middle of the night with you when your baby cries. he's the one you want to experience every milestone with. he's the one you want filling you up over and over until your tummy starts to swell.

“we can't go back.” rafe says, his tone suddenly serious. “we can't go back to just friends.”

“i know.” it's all you need to say for rafe to surge forward, dropping his knees to the floor as he kisses you, mouth easily dominating yours. you let out a soft moan as his hands cup your jaw, keeping you close even though you press yourself into him, hands fisted in his shirt.

“let me have you.” rafe pants against your mouth. “i need you. let me fill you up.”

“yes.” you nod. “yes, please. take your clothes off.”

you don't care that you're in the middle of your living room, you immediately tug your shirt off over your head, bearing your breasts to him. rafe knew you never wore a bra when in your own home, but seeing your bare tits is still a shock.

he doesn't even take his shirt off despite you tugging at it, cupping your chest as he leans in, mouth wrapping around your nipple.

“oh my god!” you squeal, fisting your hands in rafes hair, holding him close to your body as his tongue flicks over your nipple, hardening it quickly.

“i… im sorry baby i need to get inside of you.” rafe feels crude, tugging at your shorts to pull them down your legs, tossing them away.

“i need you too.” there will be plenty of time now that you've admitted feelings for each other to take your time, to go slow and learn each other's bodies.

rafe stands up, looking down at you in just your underwear, eyes glassy with lust as he pulls his shirt off, followed by him tugging his pants down, finally getting your eyes off his face as your eyes move down. you reach forward, hand rubbing over rafes length, annoyed that the fabric of his underwear is not allowing you to see him properly.

“fuck, stop.” rafe takes a step back. “im supposed to cum in you. get you pregnant. you're gonna make me bust.”

you smile, flattered that your simple touch can cause him to almost lose it.

“where do you want me.” you whisper. you aren't a virgin but you certainly aren't as experienced as rafe. while you know he partakes in hookups at parties you don't attend, you were never interested in sleeping around just for the sake of sleeping around.

“just lay back, baby.” rafe let's out a huff as you turn from sitting on the couch to laying down, your breasts falling beautifully as you wait for him to make the next move. “let's get these off.” rafe pulls your underwear down, but you keep your legs together to hide yourself for a little longer.

rafe shucks his underwear off next, praying his throbbing erection doesn't cause him to cum the second he gets inside of you.

you let out a low moan just from the both of you being naked. “gonna kneel down. wrap your leg around me.” rafe helps position you, spreading your legs as his eyes take in your wet cunt, pretty and perfect as he wraps your knee around his hips as he sinks himself down, moving to drape his body over yours.

“ill go slow.” rafe says, hoping he can stay true to his word as he reaches down, running his cock briefly through your folds, obsessed with the way your expression changed into one of pure pleasure.

“okay, just at first.” you nod. you need slow to open you up, to stretch your walls to allow rafes size, but you dont want it to stay slow, needing to feel him pound into you, make a mess of your cunt.

rafe sinks in with a gasp as your tightness and warmth envelops him. “fuck.” he mutters out, eyes squeezing closed as he inserts himself until he’s fully buried inside you pussy.

“feels real good rafey.” you pout. “cant believe we didn’t do this sooner. could already have a baby by now.” “oh, im gonna give you plenty.” rafe bends down to kiss you, letting himself get lost in the kiss, focusing on your mouth against his to distract from his throbbing cock.

“move.” you gasp, starting to grind your hips. “move.”

its all rafe needs to start smashing his hips back and forth, rocking into you in a steady but fast motion, aiming every time to get his cock as deep inside of you as possible.

“yes, yes!” you squeal, hands gripping his shoulders. as good as rafe thrusting into you feels, you want his cum more than anything. you begin to squeeze your pussy around him every time he pulls out before thrusting back in, and you can tell from the way rafes mouth hangs open that he likes it.

“fuck, im already close, sorry.” rafe has never had a problem cumming too early with anyone else, but hes never been with you, his best friend who he’s been head over heels for since kindergarten, who is begging to have him put a baby in your womb.

“cum in me. please.” you don’t even care about your own orgasm. you don’t even want it, already feeling so overwhelmed from the way rafes cock swells inside of you.

your eyebrows raise when you realize what the warmth spreading inside of you is, never having let a man take you without a condom. you let out a moan to match rafes as he cums, flooding your insides as he grinds into you. 

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, pulling him down onto you, not caring about the weight as you squeeze your cunt, milking any last drops out of him.

--

“oh my god, i’m gonna cry its so cute.” tears brim in your eyes as you look at your finished nursery, rafe having done the last of the decorations when you were napping, putting the final touches on.

“you're so cute.” he hums, wrapping his arms around you as he stands behind you, also looking over the room. 

“thank you. its perfect.” you sniffle.

“you’re perfect.” rafe has been overwhelming you with compliments lately, wanting to make sure that you know he is still very much attracted to you with your pregnant belly. “and beautiful. and hot. and sexy.” “oh, stop it.” you roll your eyes with a giggle, turning to face rafe.

“it would be inappropriate to have sex in our babies nursery, wouldn’t it?” despite the baby not even being here yet, rafe looks around the former guest bedroom and realizes that it simply wouldn’t be right.

“you’re not getting me on the floor anyways.” you press your hands to your stomach. seven months along with rafes baby.

“probably for the best.” rafe places his hand on your back, leading you out of the nursery and towards your bed. “wanna eat you out on our bed anyways, mamas.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @folklorsweet @soilderpoetandking @auryyz

[thebestsetter]

Thinking about Bachira Meguru assuming he's unlovable.

Being called a monster for their whole childhood really makes a mark on a person's life and self-esteem. But for Bachira, they were unavoidable.

At first, he tried to ignore the mean comments and pretend he didn't hear them. Maybe that would make the loneliness go away. Maybe it would make the problems disappear.

"He's a freak!"

"Eww, don't get too close to Bachira! You'll get lice!!"

"He's stinky"

He heard the whispers. He just used to pretend he didn't. For both his and the children's sake. So he could pretend he was normal. At least for a while.

And, sometimes, even parents, grown-ass adults, called him weird. Shouldn't they set an example for their kids? They tell them: "Don't judge other people! You never know what they're going through!", but are always the first to talk shit about someone, even if said someone is a little kid.

"Poor kid. It's probably the parents fault."

"He says sees a 'monster'! He's probably schizophrenic."

"My son is afraid of him. Specially when he's playing soccer. He said he's very scary"

He tried to ignore them. He really did. He tried to smile through it all and treat people the same way he always had nevertheless: with respect. Because crying would make his problems real. He didn't want them to be real. And he was doing a good job at it! But one faithful day, he snapped. The final nail in the coffin.

"When I grow up, I want to be a football player, just like Zico!" 11 year old Bachira said, showing the whole class a drawing of him, Zico and his monster playing soccer together. His smile was as bright and blinding as ever, specially because he was talking about his passion: soccer. He loved it so much. It helped him escape the harsh reality for a while.

The class went silent. They used to think Bachira was weird, to put it slightly, but this? It just made him even more weird! They all knew that he could never be a football player. He was an outcast. A freak. He was a monster. And monsters couldn't live with humans. Nobody wanted a monster on their team.

And so, instead of clapping like they did with the other kids' drawings, the class started to laugh. It started out quiet, but later it turned into a full, loud laugh. All of them. And Bachira always dreamed of making everyone there laugh, but not like this. They weren't laughing with him or because of him, they were laughing at him.

"Uh? What's happening, miss?" He asked the teacher, confused and on the verge of crying. He couldn't cry here. Not in front of them, please. That would be another thing for them to laugh at.

He swears on his life that he heard the teacher laugh a little, before the adult crouched down to match his size, grabbed his drawing and put it on his desk, while the other kids' drawings were being stuck to the board with tape. And then, he heard one of the worst sentences he ever heard in his life. One that he knew would definitely keep him awake at night:

"Meguru, being a football player is too hard for you. Why don't you settle for something more real and reachable? Like a doctor or a lawyer?"

He didn't understand. Some kids here wanted to be astronauts, others wanted to be models. Hell, one wanted to be a dinosaur babysitter. And their drawings were hanging on the wall, like they were going to be achieved. Bachira felt like no one believed in him. Like he was being put aside.

He then realized the problem wasn't what he wanted to do. It was him. Anyone could be a football player, but he couldn't. Because he was a monster. He was different from others.

And so, the tears began to fall. One by one, first from his left away and then from his right eye. His vision began to blurry. Left eye, right eye. Left, right, left right. Kids laughing, teacher laughing. His drawing on the desk. Left, right. Left right. He couldn't even see his own hands anymore from how blurred his vision was. He looked to his side. Left, right. The door. His escape. He needed to leave.

So, without second thought, Bachira ran towards the door. He couldn't care less for the teacher calling his name. He wouldn't come looking for him anyway. Nobody would. Nobody cared enough to do it.

He sat behind a tree, protected by it's shadow. He continued to cry. Hard. He put his hands in his eyes to try and stop the tears from falling, but he couldn't. He needed to let it all out. He just wished he had someone by his side during his breakdown. He really wanted a shoulder to rely on.

"Hey"

Maybe he was, indeed, schizophrenic. Because, the moment he looked up, he saw a girl he swore was too pretty to be real. The sunset made her have an angelic glow, and the wind made her hair flow just the right way. Her face was like a greek statuate, and he swore he could hear a soothing symphony playing in the background when he met her eyes: they were the most beautiful color he had ever seen, and he could imagine himself being lost and found in them. She was just too pretty. Too pretty to be here for him. And so, he managed to stop crying for a while and said, between sniffs:

"Did you lose a bet?"

The way your face contorted was almost comic.

"What?"

"Did someone pay you to come here? Where are the cameras? And how much was it?"

"I didn't lose any bet" you said, frowning. "I came here to check on you because I wanted to. I don't get why everyone laughed at you. Your dream is not stupid. Nobody's dream is."

"Even Richard's? He said he wants to be a dinossaur nanny" he said before he even thought about it. He then widened his eyes, because what if you were Richard's friend? What if you hated him now because he said something bad about your friend? What if he already screwed everything up? What if...

"Okay, you win. That one's actually stupid." You laughed. He made you laugh. This time, someone was laughing because of him. He felt like he was capable of everything at that moment. Your laugh was a sweet, infecting, honey-like melody. It made him wanna laugh too. He didn't realize it, but he had already stopped crying, and was now just staring at you with big, blown and unwavering eyes. His mouth slightly parted, like he was studying you and comitting everything about you to memory. Almost as if you were indeed an ilusion, and would disappear the second he blinked. He couldn't believe you were real. You were real, and you were talking to him.

After a while, you stopped laughing and finally noticed his intense staring. Suddenly bashful, your cheeks turned a bright red.

"I-I just want you to know that you shouldn't be ashamed of your dream. I think- no, I'm sure you can achieve it. You just have to work hard for it. I-I've seen you playing sometimes, and it's honestly amazing how focused you are. Bachira, I want to be your friend. That's it, if you'll let me-"

He hugged you. Hard. If it was any other time, he would have been afraid of scaring you off with the sudden hug, but he couldn't care less right now. He needed this. He needed a friend. You were just what he needed. You were perfect.

He started to cry again. This time, the first tear came out of his right eye. Right, left. His vision was getting blurred from how hard he was smiling. Right, left. Right, left. Your arms hugging him back. Right, left. The sound of the school bell, signalizing the end of the school day. People would see you and him hugging and you would probably be called weird by them for being next to him, but you still didn't break the hug. Right, left.

He didn't want to escape like he did during the class incident. No. He wanted this moment to last forever. He wanted time to stop, to be in your arms for eternity. He didn't want to pull away. He finally made a friend. You were his first friend.

Bachira Meguru used to think he was unlovable, but you proved him wrong. You proved he could, in fact, be loved. He wasn't a monster. He wasn't a freak. He was Bachira Meguru. Your best friend. And he wore that title with pride. Later on, he had the honour to be called your boyfriend, and he was even prouder of that one.

He used to think he would never find happiness. That's why, the moment the ref blew the whistle signalizing the end of Japan U-20 against Blue Lock eleven match and securing Blue Lock's victory, he couldn't think of anything else besides his girl. He ran across the field to you. Because you were like a magnet. He couldn't be apart from you, or else it felt like the whole earth would explode. He was yours and you were his. You both were meant to be.

"You did it! I love you, Meguru!"

He laughed. A pretty, genuine laugh followed by a couple of tears, beginning from his right eye, of course. His mother was recording behind you both, the blue lock team was smirking and whistling at the sight of you two and the television was streaming the moment for the whole world to see. But neither of you cared about the extra eyes. You were the only ones on the world. You always made him feel like that, and he hopes he makes you feel that way, too.

"I love you so much. Thank you."

Thank you for being with me. Thank you for being there. Thank you for not leaving me. Thank you for accepting the title of being my girlfriend proudly. Thank you for being you. Thank you for everything. Thank you.

He then lifted you and spun you in the air, smiling hard. He brought your lips closer and then kissed you. A kiss full of emotion and love. So much love: raw and pure.

You proved he wasn't just lovable. He was also capable of loving. And there's nothing prettier than loving someone.

Bachira Meguru was lovable, and you made sure to show him that. You loved him, and he would do everything to keep it that way forever.

~A/N: there's a "saying" that says that if you're crying and the first tear is from the left eye, you're crying from sadness. If the first tear comes out of the right eye, they're happy tears!!

Masterlist

[shewhowas39]

a quick note on elven maturity

all right. time for another lore dump, brought to you by a big DnD fangirl.

so i see a lot of conversation around Astarion's age at the time of being turned (39 years old) and how, in DnD, that would make him a "child." this comes from rules and lore that state that elves can live to be about 750 years old (or older) and are considered adults at 100 years old. and i can absolutely see why that is confusing, but let me break it down a bit.

Elves reach physical maturity at the same age as humans, but after that point, their aging slows down tremendously. a 39 year old elf may be "considered a child" but has the physical maturity of a human in their 20s and mental maturity of a 39 year old human.

so let's talk about that "considered a child" business. this might be cleared up by adding the caveat "by other elves" at the end.

the distinction of "childhood" is cultural. because elves live so long, they see those under the age of 100 as youthful. think about it: if you had seen five hundred years of shit, you'd think an 80 year old was a sweet summer child, too. hell, i'm in my 30s and sometimes it's hard not to look at people in their early 20s as "kids" because we're just in such different places in our lives, even though they are legally adults.

even in the real world, maturity and adulthood are seen differently across cultures. different countries have different drinking ages, different ages for driving cars, different ages of consent. those standards may seem odd to an outsider, used to their own cultural norms, but every community is different.

elves don't just see other elves under age 100 as children. they see other races this way as well. high elves tend to view humans as immature - even in their old age - because 80 years to them is nothing.

i was a legal adult at 18, but 18 year old me didn't know half the shit 33 year old me does. and i'm sure 45 year old me will think 33 year old me was "young" by comparison.

now, i've seen some takes that Astarion might be lying about being a magistrate because he was "a child" and why would they make a child a magistrate? that argument might hold up in an elven dominated city, but Baldur's Gate is mostly human. by human standards, Astarion had the same mental capacity as any other 39 year old man.

Astarion, at age 39, may have been seen as a "child" by other high elves, but this isn't literal. it merely means he had yet to reach a major cultural milestone of a very, very long lived race. a milestone even the most elderly of humans likely will never reach.

would you call an 80 year old human a child? no. but a high elf very well might see them that way. not in the physical sense, but in a "oh to be young and naive and know less of the world than I do" sense. the way that we all inevitably look at those a decade younger than us, even though they are adults, and see their youth in comparison to our own.

it's 5am here and i'm babbling. the point is, the "child" bit of elven lore in DnD is confusing, i get it. but it's purely cultural. in Baldur's Gate, a city primarily run by humans, Astarion was not seen as a child by most. he was a grown man. he had the mental maturity of a 39 year old man. the only people who would have seen him as a child are other, older high elves (mostly those who grew up in a place like Evermeet) and maybe elders of other races - even humans - who were like "oh, to be 39 again!" (lol, me the day i turn 40 probably.)

tl;dr elves in dnd are not LITERALLY children until they turn 100. it's an elven culture thing, similar to how in real life different cultures have different standards for things like driving, drinking, joining the army, and age of consent.

[tianshanb]

A head canon of mine that baby damian was ALLOWED to be a baby. Just with extra assassin trianing.

Like you know those parents that start their kids on sports, or languages, or instruments as babies etc. Talia just started him on assassin training early. But he's just a baby

Cue dmaian walking into training with a pacifier and clutching a blanket.

Just imagine damian with a tiny wooden sword copying the moves of his instructor. Once it's break time, he toddles to the other corner of the room where he plops down on a bunch of pillows and blankets waiting for him, and most importantly, his bottle. Training is tiring he needs a drink 😤

He may also take a nap mid lesson cz he's just a babyyyyy. He brings his favorite plushie to "watch him" when he train. Instead of playing house he plays secret assassin mission with the toys.

As he grows older. 4 to 6 years old. The pacifier is gone by then, and he no longer brings his toys. The new instructor seeing this mature soul in a child body confidently walking up to you with their nose turned up... the illusion is shattered when they open their mouth and half their teeth are missing. Then, mid trianing damian take a drink from their sippy cup thats batman themed (it was a gift from his mama from her latest mission).

Yep just a child.

7 years old is when his training gets super hard. That's the age where your viewed as starting to mature.

I imagine at this age where Ra's is like finally he's old enough to start his real trianing, and Talia is no longer the one responsible for him. This continues to increase in difficulty until he's 9. And shaped off to batfam.

But hoenstly:

Sword trianing?? Imagine this aggressive toddler swinging this sword around. A thing about babies is they LOVEEE swinging shit around, hitting things, throwing things. So training would BE fun.

Eventually he'd had to learn how to break his fall, how to get tackled, etc. Dmaian just sees it as a game and it makes him giggled. KIDS enjoy being tossed around. Like roughhousing is a thing for a reason, the same reason why people throw babies in the air when they play with them.

When he goes to the batfamily. He's just a random 9 year old. One thing about why I can never take the little guy seriously is no matter how intimidating and scary you wbat to seem... your voice will still be that of a child. Another hc is when he's angry he gets on his tippy toes cz he's soo tinyyy. I imagine an argument geting super heated and finally dmaian doing on his toes and suddenly whoever he's arguing with can't take his seriously cz he smol, like this big 👌, and missing some teeth. He has a bed time and can't watch horror movies, like seriously are u arguing with him?

Another thing is Talia had limited screen time and access to devices and technology. She also had parent control on every device. Bruce just does not have that. Dmaian is going to Bruce, and being excited, he's old enough to use a device without parental supervision, or the parent app is so excited that he's seen as a grown-up! (In reality, Bruce just firgot. He never had kids this young with smartphones existing). He's bragging to tim about it one day when bruce overheard, and he's like, hold up a minute.

Extra:

This idea came to me once my friend told me about a student she has. Me and her are tutors and she tutors math. At her centre, there is no specific grade, everyone just advances through the levels as long as they pass the previous level.

In her group, there is this 2 year old toddler who's parents put in tutoring since he was 18 months old. This baby is dropped of by his parents, walking in with a pacifier in his mouth with the clip on to shirt thing. Sometimes in his pj's and sometimes clutching his 'blankie'.

This little dude does advanced algebra. That's right HIGHCHOOL LEVEL ALGEBRA.

He's barely toilet trained 😭 and he asked for help to go to the bathroom, his grip on the pencil is shaky, he still baby talks... but I bet he's better than u at maths.

[bueckers-babygirl]

I Need You pt.2 (paige bueckers x black!reader

Part one <3

Summary: You and Paige finally unite

Warning: Just cursing

word count: 1757

Three months. It’s been three months since me and Paige went on our “break”. 

The first month was the hardest. Just a lot of crying, bargaining, rants, and Chipotle. I sat in my puddle of despair, wondering what Paige was doing.

What she was thinking, hoping the thoughts were about me.

My worst thought was thinking that she had moved on to someone new, or someone that has always been there.

The second month was the month that I told myself to stand the fuck up.

This month had its ups and downs. I moved in with my best friend who welcomed me with open arms. She’s been more than supportive since the very beginning. She comforted me, fed me when I didn’t feel like eating, and took the remote from my hands every time I felt like turning on a UConn game (I'm healing slowly but surely).

I even picked up a hobby! I started taking a ballet class to keep my mind off of things! My bleeding feet are a VERY good distraction.

The third month is when I felt like a new and healed me. My skin was clear, my curls were popping, my body was giving. I felt better.

However, no matter what I did or how much better I thought I was…I can’t get her out of my mind.

“Come on! You’ve been stuck in this house all day! It’s getting sad Mookie” my bestie, Quenlin, says while ripping the blanket from my body.

“My dance class got canceled today and new episodes of my show came out. I just thought I could lay here and wallow all day” I moan while pulling my hoodie over my face. I turn my head to see Quenlin shaking her head.

“Girl, you smell like ten cans of ass and your hair looks a mess. You cannot let this girl get to you like this” She turns to open the curtains.

The blinding light burns my eyes as I wince and pull a pillow over my face. She rolls her eyes as she lays next to me on the bed.

“Let’s go bar hopping tonight! You love that shit” she yells as she shakes my aching body! She wasn’t wrong, bar hopping was probably my favorite activity. I lay there and contemplate whether I should get cute and have fun or lay in the imprint I have made in the bed and cry.

“I’ll buy you Chipotle” and with those four words, I hopped in the shower, got dressed, and was ready to head out the door.

9:30 Pm

Me and I were on our second bar of the night and I felt alive again. I had flashes of images of Paige in my mind throughout the night but I decided I would deal with that issue when I went home. 

“Girl, can you go order us some drinks? I gotta piss real bad” Quenlin said, doing the potty dance at her grown age. 

“Go ahead, and stop doing that shit” I laugh as she waddles off to the bathroom. I make my way up to the bar and order me and my friend vodka cranberries. 

I twiddled my thumbs waiting for the drinks, when I finally heard it.

“Hey beautiful” My body froze when I heard the voice I had longed for so much but also dreaded hearing. I slowly turned my head to see the beautiful blonde that had been occupying my mind for months.

She looked so good, but also drained.

Words tried so hard to leave my mouth but nothing came out.

“You look good. Like, good. Guess the break up was good to you” She lets out an awkward laugh as I am still in shock but gain the ability to speak.

“Eh. It was ok for me. A lot of crying hehe” I mentally slap myself, who the fuck says that. 

“Yeah, same” She looks down at her feet trying to figure out what to say next.

“Listen, can we talk, please? I wanna fix this. I-”

“Unh Unh! What are you doing here” Quenlin appears from thin air as she jumps in front of me to confront Paige. This breaks me out of my trance as I jump to defend Paige. 

“No, Quen! It’s ok! Me and her are just going to talk outside” I put my hands on my best friend's shoulders to calm her down. She turns to look at me and then back at Paige.

“Fine, but if you try some manipulative shit, it’s me and you” she pokes piage with her finger before walking away. Paige looks back at me “I never liked her. I just want you to know that.”

I laughed as I walked to the door, Paige following close behind. When we get a good distance away from the bar we stop and just look at each other.

I can tell she’s trying to find words to say, I couldn’t find any either.

We stood in silence for a few more minutes before one of us finally spoke.

“I'm sorry. I'm sorry that I made you feel like shit for so many months. You should have been my priority and I didn’t do that” Paige let out a shaky breath before looking down at the ground. I waited for her to continue but….she just stopped.

“Paige…that's not the only reason why I wanted to take a break. Yes, you ignoring me was a big part of it but there was so much more” She finally raises her head to look me timidly in the eyes.

I take a shaky breath before continuing. “It was the petty comments, the constant arguing, and the insecure feeling I always felt” I started choking up on my words, and the memories of me and the girl I love screaming at each other came flooding back.

“I'm sorry! I was just so stressed with basketball, the interviews, and the constant attention that I guess I got stressed” She quickly tried to defend herself, flailing her arms in the air.

“I understand how stressful that could be but…I would've been there for you. I could've listened to your rants, helped you during solo practice, and helped you calm down when you were nervous about an interview…but you shut me out and started bullshit arguments for no reason. I love you so much. I just wanted to help you” I felt a tear roll down my face.

I saw Paige’s face change from defensive to vulnerable in the middle of the conversation.

I let out a sigh as Paige drops her head, tears falling down her pretty face. “Paige, I love you so much. You’re probably the best thing that has happened to me in a long time” I take her hands in mine “but when we have an issue, you can’t just shut me out or brush it off. We need to talk. We need to express ourselves or else it’s just gonna get worse.”

Paige raises her head once more, looking into my brown eyes with her bloodshot blue eyes. “I know…I wanna be better for you baby. I will do anything to make it up to you. I just want things to go back to the way they were” She brings my hand to her lips, placing a tender kiss upon them.

I felt my skin turn hot as her lips connected to my skin, it’s kind of funny how we were together for so long and she still managed to make me nervous.

“I know it seems like an empty promise but I swear I will do everything that I can to make it up to you. I’ll communicate better and I will make sure to do everything that I can to remind you that you're the love of my…I can’t fucking lose you again y/n” she wraps her arms around my body, leaving another kiss on the top of my head.

On instinct, I wrap my arms around her to as I close my eyes to breathe in her perfume.

I was still angry with her but somehow I knew deep down that she was serious about wanting to be better for me. 

She pulls back to look into my eyes before she places an unexpected but loving kiss on my lips. I felt like I was floating on air as my lips touched the ones that they have been craving for three months. With this simple act, she knew that I forgave her 

As we pull away she rests her forehead on mine. 

“Can we just start over please, I miss you so much” Paige giggles while also sniffling. 

I let out a snort as I placed my hand on her cheek “Well we got a long way to go until we are back to the same place but, I think we’ll be ok”.

2 days later

“Ok! I think that’s the last of my shit” I let out a sigh of relief placing the last bit of my clothes back into me and Paige’s shared closet. I fell back into our bed, missing the smell of our sheets. 

I let out a grunt as Paige ran into the room and jumped on top of me. “Jesus Paige! I think you broke one of my ribs” I try to push her off of me as I let out a laugh.

Paige keeps her position on top of me as she puts her face into the crook of my neck. “I'm sorry, baby. I'm just happy you're back” she sighs as she kisses my neck.

“Ew, can yall wait to fuck until after I leave,” Quenlin says as she brings me some more of my stuff in from the car. I laugh as Paige finally rolls off me with a dramatic groan.

I walk over to Quenlin take the box of stuff from her hands and place it on the floor. “Thank you for letting me stay with you,” I say as I hug her.

“Of course, anytime! However, if this shit happens another time me and Paige are gonna have to tussle. You hear me” she yells towards Paige.

“I love you too, Quen” Paige blew a kiss to her.

Quen rolls her eyes before giving me a kiss on the cheek and leaving. 

“Why must y’all fight over me”

“Because you’re the most important thing to us, baby” Paige leaves another kiss on my lips before hopping back onto the shared bed that I will never leave again.

Y'all I am so fuckin sorry this came out so late! But here yall go <3

[lordprettyflackotara]

hitchhiker || end of beginning

this is entirely fan service. enjoy <3

Your hair flew behind you, the salty wind blowing past you in a blur. You grinned at the smell of the ocean, watching your daughter, Nova, collect seashells along the shoreline. “Doesnt this one look cool?” She exclaimed, holding up a larger shell. You smiled and nodded, her curious chocolate eyes staring at you for an answer. “It looks lovely honey, it’ll look great for our collection,” You said encouragingly. After Nova grew a bit older you moved away from the woods, your past lovers haunting you. Nova was eleven now, her features starting to mature. You could never place whose she was. Her nose was shaped like Toby’s, her jawline sharp like Brian’s, and her eyes full and warm like Tim’s. Each day she reminded you more and more of them, her habits like theirs unknowingly. Toby’s energy, Brian’s love for tomato soup, Tim’s leadership. She had become quite the little adult at her new middle school, joining the debate club almost immediately as it was founded.

Yet she still had that childlike sense about her. Her cheeks were still a little chubby, her innocence still intact. Beside her was Jack, still wearing boots and his hoodie, even on the sandy beach. The beach was secluded, fenced in behind your new home. Jack still came to visit regularly, Nova having long adjusted to his appearance. She knew he was different and his existence was to be kept a secret, but she didn’t seem to mind at all. It was hard for her to when he came bearing gifts each visit. Truly he spoiled her, the demon shrugging and pretending he didn’t know what you were talking about when you called him out on it. “What do you think Uncle Jack?” Nova asked, holding it up to him. The demon pretended to be puzzled, before ruffling her thick y/h/c hair. “I think it would look better washed off, here,” He said, reaching down and cupping a handful of water. You watched as he surprised her, splashing water on her sundress. She gasped before giggling playfully, quickly splashing him back. You grinned at the sight, Nova’s laughter music to your ears.

“Scared to get wet princess?”

For a moment you thought you were hallucinating, jumping in surprise at the sight of Tim. A lazy unlit cigarette hung from his lips, Brian and Toby right behind him. “Holy shit,” You whispered. You ran towards them, desperately clawing at them to all hug you at once. You cupped each of their faces, your heart exploding with happiness. “How did you… you’re here. You’re real,” You whispered. You noticed Toby no longer had a bandage covering the side of his face, his gash revealed proudly. Tim’s hair had grown longer, framing his face. Brian’s stubble was growing out, poking at your palm as you cupped his face. “R-real as it c-can get,” Toby said proudly, giving you a goofy smile. You turned around, Jack holding Nova’s small hand as he walked her over to you and the boys. You were unsure how to explain this, your daughter’s concept of parents being only two individuals. Not four. “Who are they mama?” She asked, hesitantly staring up at them. You were speechless, her big bright eyes looking up at Jack for guidance. He crouched down to her level, the demon much taller than any of you. “You know how most kids are stuck with only two parents?” He asked. Nova nodded. You glanced at the proxies, each of them staring at her. They each saw a bit of themselves in her. You crouched down as well, the two of you trying to ease Nova into the situation.

“Well you’re so special you get four,” You say, poking her rounded nose. She gasped, looking at Tim, Brian, and Toby. “You have an Uncle Jack which is much cooler in my opinion but yes, you have four,” Jack added, grinning. His sharp teeth unfazed the girl, who instead widened her eyes. “Does this mean I get four times as many Christmas presents?” She asked, unable to conceal a giggle. “Yeah she’s definitely y/n’s kid,” Tim muttered, causing Brian to elbow him. Toby was the first to return Nova’s grin, matching her perky energy. “As many as you want kiddo,” He said, mentally happy he didn’t stutter. Nova studied his gash for a moment, before speaking, “You’re just like Uncle Jack.”

Toby nodded, his left arm twitching. “I’d debate i’m a lot cooler but yeah pretty much,” Jack snickered, rising to his feet. Brian cleared his throat, a bit anxious to speak to the precious girl who he knew to be their daughter. “Five bucks says I can collect more sea shells than you,” He said, causing Nova to form a mischievous grin. Toby shrugged off his hoodie, tossing his goggles aside. “O-oh you’re s-so on. Cmon N-Nova,” Toby cheered, carelessly running down the small beach. Nova chased behind him, her blue beach bucket swaying as she ran. For the first time since you had met Brian he looked content, calmly following them down the beach. “You knew?” You asked Tim, who had now lit his cigarette since Nova wasn’t around. “Jack may have kept her a secret for a long time, but buying monster high dolls kinda gave it away,” He explained. You hugged Tim’s jacket tighter around you, the previous tarnished material all sewed back together. “Toby followed him. He saw you getting Nova off of the bus. He knew immediately that she was one of ours,” He continued. He inhaled deeply, before passing the cigarette to you. You had ditched the habit a long time ago, but Tim’s scent of cigarettes and cologne was enough to make you want a hit. “Took a lot of planning, as well as some favor asking, but The Operator is dead,” Tim finished.

You stared wide eyed, looking at Jack for clarification. “Dont look at me. I wasn’t going to spoil the surprise,” He said plainly. Nova ran up to the three of you, grabbing the demons large hand. “Cmon Uncle Jack, you gotta help us win!” She cheered. Jack waved goodbye, following the small girl. You turned to Tim, inhaling the tobacco stick. “How did you do it? Kill The Operator I mean?” You asked. You felt the smoke swirl around your lungs, before you exhaled. The ocean breeze blew it away quickly, your hair brushing behind your shoulders. “I think that’s a story for another day, don’t you think?” Tim asked. He wrapped his arm around your shoulders, guiding you to look at the mini family you had created. Toby was splashing Jack in the shallow water, trying to distract him as Nova searched the shore for shells. Brian was attempting to take off his boots and socks quickly, his work boots not made for the beach. You leaned your head on his shoulder, a content smile creeping across your lips. You wondered who Nova actually belonged her, a lot of her personality traits and looks so similar to each proxy. You knew it didn’t matter though, each of them going to endlessly love her as their own.

Tim’s warmth was relaxing, the orange sunset setting beyond the horizon. “Son of a bitch!” She gasped, after falling into the ocean. Yeah, she was most definitely Tim’s.

[petew21-blog]

Sturniolo triple swap

MORNING

Chris woke up, groggy. He yawned and strechted his arms, feeling a bit different this morning. He stood up and rubbed his face. But something mettalic bumped into the side of his pinky. He froze. Now confused, he blinked. "Why am I in Nick's room?" he thought to himself. He tried to touch the mettalic thing again. No... that's not possible. He stumbled to the nearest mirror, almost tripping on the way. There it was, Nick's face. His piercing was the thing that he touched.

"Holy shit! Nick?" Nick's voice answered, but it was Chris who controlled it along with the shocked face who mimicked his expressions. Or more easily now, reflected.

Chris stared at himself. He looked at his body, lifting up the shirt. He wasn't fat, but Nick was naturally heavier. And Chris felt the difference. He touched the tatoos. "This is insane..."

Matt

Matt started his morning like he always would. He woke up, put on his favourite hoodie and headed to the bathroom. His eyes still not used to the light didn't really notice any difference. Or even Matt himself didn't. He didn't even notice that he came out of Chris's room.

Matt splashed water on his face. He looked up at himself. "Woah" he noticed the hair. They were much longer. He brushed through them and couldn't believe how much they have grown over night. And then he noticed. That wasn't hsi face that he was used to see every morning in the mirror.

"Okay... it's ok. It's just a dream."

Matt closes his eyes, breathing slowly.

He hears a scream coming from his own bedroom.

"Ok, maybe it's not a dream"

Nick

Nick strechted in the bed, not wanting to get up so early. He felt he was hard. He decided to ignore the hard on.

He opened his eyes and immediately knew something was off. This wasn't his room. He got up and looked around. "WTF Matt?" but the voice was different, it sounded just like his brother.

He got up and went straight to the mirror. He knew this was real, way too real.

"How am I Matt? I could Freaky Friday with anyone, but I swap with Matt? Hello? Like..."

He looked at himself again. He flexed his arms, lifting his shirt. "Well it could be worse I guess."

"MAAAAAATTTTTT, CHRIIIIIIIIIIIISSSSSSSS!" Nick screamed through the whole house

Nick, Matt, Chris

Nick:"Can anybody explain why I'm in Matt's body?"

Matt:"Who are you?"

Chris:"Who else would be so loud in this house"

Matt pointing at Nick's body:"So you're Chris in Nick's body and Nick is in mine. And I am in Chris's"

Nick:"So can anyone explain what happened?"

Matt looking concerned at Nick:"No, but can you explain, why is my dick hard?" he pointed at his old body. Chris was laughing, while Nick was trying to hide it. "I just woke up, don't pretend like it doesn't happen to you"

Matt:"It does, but in my own body. intentionally"

Chris:"Hello? Can we stop talking about Matt's wonderful dick and try to figure out what to do?"

Nick:"If this is like Freaky Friday we'll have to pretend to be each other and live our lives"

Matt:"We're triplets, we could pretend to be ourselves actually"

Chris:"Yeah, like everyone who knows us can't tell the difference, right? Even our Tiktok fans can tell who we are. Putting on clothes won't change that"

Nick:"We should go on like we normally do and see if we swap back"

Matt:"But we're suppose to shoot today in the car. Why am I feeling so uneasy?"

Chris:"My body needs Pepsi, you should go get some. We got some preparing to do. Let's get dressed"

They had to figure out who goes to who's room according to their bodies, which took a minute, but they eventually did.

Nick

Nick found some clothes that Matt usualy wears and that fit him well. He thought about mocking him, but Chris might do the same thing to him.

He stood in front of the mirror. His heart started racing. There was one thing he was curious about. He was gay, but Matt's body wasn't. Maybe he... nah that would be too much. But still, it would be good to know

Nick closed the door and sat on the bed. He pulled out Matt's phone. Searched Pornhub and already saw some favourite links Matt had. He watched for a moment, not knowing if he was observing the man or the woman. But Nick felt his briefs tightening. Jesus, he was hard in Matt's body. Was he really gonna do what he thought of?

"Ah fuck it" he pushed his hand under the waistband and grabbed his new hard dick. "Ok, pretty nice brother." he pulled down his sweatpants and now his briefs. His new shaved dick was right there. He started jerking it. Still watching the porn. Yeah, he was into it. Or his body atleast. This wasn't so bad. Maybe if he had to have sex as Matt with some girl, he would be good

"Are you fucking serious right now?!" Matt in Chris's body was standing in the doorway watching Nick, Chris in his body right behind him amused. "Does this mean we are allowed to jerk off to? I kinda wanna try some of your toys" Chris shouted at Nick

"Matt I'm so so sorry. I really didn't want to" Nick apologized abruptly

"Yeah and is that why the porn is on as well?" Matt shouted

"I just wanted to know if I was straight now. Nothing else..." Nick tried to apologize in a way

"Wait. Do you guys think I'm gay now? Oh no. I must be, right? Since Nick has your dick hard from that straight porn. Oh no, I'm gonna be sucking dick" Chris panicked

"STOP. Both of you. No jerking off. No sucking dick. We'll switch back tonight. Let's shoot the video so that we'll be back asap. Nick get my keys. You'll be driving as I normally do." Matt took the lead of the moment and gave out orders

"Are you crazy? He's gonna kill us in that car. You know how he drives" Chris pointed at Nick aggressively

"Shut up. I'm a decent driver" Nick replied, but both of them saw the look Matt was giving them, so they took their things and went to the car

Parking lot in front od Chipotle

"See. We survived" Nick defended himself

"No, Chris is right. You can't drive on the way home" Matt said in shock and fear combined after the journey they just experienced

"Oh come on. Don't be like that. It wasn't THAT bad" Nick replied

"Sure. Tell that to the lady on the crossing that had to jump to save herself" Chris laughed as he recalled the moment

"Let's start the video?" Matt asked and both Chris and Nick nodded

Matt instinctively started. "Hey, guys. It's the Sturniolo triplets. Me, Nick and Chris..." he was interrupted by Nick. "Matt, stop. You called me Nick. I'm you and you're Chris now."

Matt:"Ah, fuck. Right. This is gonna be so confusing."

Chris:"I don't think I can pretend to be Nick. He has his mimics I can't

Nick:"I have an idea. What if we do it on purpose?"

Chris:"People will notice and call us out"

Nick:"Yeah, that's my point. Let them. Let's name the video Pretending to be each other or Body swap or something and just shoot the video. We can put some jokes in there making fun of ourselves and it could work out"

Matt:"Is that our style though? Is that something we would normally do?"

Chris:"Dude, just imagine the fanfictions om Wattpad the fans are gonna write after they see this"

Nick:"So? They already write them. Atleast we'll have a good popular video and we'll manage it even in different bodies"

They looked at each other and they knew that Nick's idea was good.

8 hours later

Chris:"Guys, Nick was right. The video was a success. People love it"

Matt:"sturniolabiggestfan88 'Nick was good at pretending to be Chris, but the other guys weren't as good. U need practice' Yeah right. Wanna see how hard we're practicing, bitch?" They laughed at the ikony of the comment

Nick:"So what if we don't swap?"

Chris:"We have to hope"

Matt:"What about the intimate part of the swap? We still need to do basic hygiene, we all got needs as we saw before, right Nick?"

Chris:"Dude, we're triplets. We couldn't be in more similar bodies. Yes we know how different we are and yet we aren't. And we know each other better than anyone else, so let's treat our bodies with respect as we would have our own. Right?"

They nodded and smiled how good their relationship together was

Chris:"Ok, now that this is out of the way, I think I got the most exploring to do. So If you'll excuse me, me and Nick's body got a date in the shower with some of his toys. Have a great night." He said not turning around to watch their reaction. Matt laughed immediately as he saw his own body looking shocked and speechless

2 years later

Nick was waiting for his boyfriend to show up. They were supposed to go to their family gathering with everyone. Nick had to get used to his new name and a different body, which he actually didn't mind at all. He also had to come out of the closet again, but now as Matt.

Matt in Chris's body basically didn't change that much. He was still straight and had a new girlfriend. They met in university

The most surprising was Chris. He got used to having Nick's body. And after some time he figured out that he was still attracted to women, but now men as well. So this bisexual king was now hooking up with everyone he fancied.

When they arrived to their home. They always hugged first. Their bond was strong even if they were far away from each other. Nick thought that after they found out that the swap was permanent, that they wouldn't speak at all. The gift was sent by some fan. They found the note eventually and found out that it was cursed. The fan was some homophobic shit who wanted to do harm to Nick.

Nick was now in his... sorry, in Matt's old bedroom. His boyfriend was passed out on the bed after the passionate sex they had. Nick looked at the side of the bed and remembered the first day when they swapped and his first jerk off session in Matt's body.

He explored the room. All of Matt and some of his stuff were there. And... no way. The gift was there. Along with the note. Nick observed it and after a moment of consideration tossed it in the trash. He picked up the note and burned it. Now feeling as if there were no open cases in his life. He went to bed, next to his boyfriend and fell asleep, happy.

"Chris, baby. What would you like for breakfast?" the female voice said. Nick opened his eyes. "Not again!"

Inbox request by @archeronfire

Can you do a three way body swap with the sturniolo triples? Specifically Chris becoming Nick, Nick becoming Matt, and Matt becoming Chris.

Hey. So this was fun, but at the same time one of the hardest stories I had to write :D

Since I didn't know much about Sturniolos, I had to ask for advice and watch a few videos, because I was worried I might screw this up. So I hope I wrote a decent story. Let me know what you think :)

[blackknight-kai]

We need an S/O who’s just an enabler for Wukong; like someone who’s totally ride or die.

Oh we’re going to heckle the locals yaoguai? They’re down.

Beat up whoever we please? Yessir.

Be the celestials’ biggest pain in the ass? Hell yea.

[But there’s also that sweet potential angst there, your husband/best friend reincarnates to this totally different guy and you have no clue what to do with yourself.]

Yes, I love this! I’d be that person LOL. Like “oh you wanna go beat the shit out of some people? Cool get after it dude! Fuck ‘em up!”

But for real, I think Wukong having that would be amazing, not for everyone else of course but for him? Great. He’d be living his best life and his ego would be HUUUUUUUGE. This chaotic asshole would love having a partner in crime/someone to support him in his mischievous endeavors.

He’d be so happy too. Coming home after doing whatever it is and excitedly telling you all about it. He’d strut around preening like a peacock. At no point would he ever feel like he was without or that he was lacking in his relationship. If people try to bring him down? Yeah not gonna work because you had his back and he trusts you.

Seeing him so happy and confident would be the highlight of your day. He’s just so LOUD. You could never ignore him. You love your monkey way too much!

So when you see his reincarnation be the total opposite of everything he normally is really screws with your head. Sure he looks like Wukong, fights like him, and is goal oriented like him.

But hes quiet. Genuinely doesnt speak which is a huge contrast to the mouthy Great Sage you knew. Reserved. Hyper Focused. And honestly very closed off.

A bit cold too. You’d been so used to Wukongs warm loving self that this is just…difficult.

Destined One is hard to read. You dont see anything of the Wukong you knew in him for the longest time. It hurts. At first you wonder if you should just….part from him. Go your separate way and let him go on his path. It doesnt sit right with you though to do that. As painful as it is to be near someone who reminds you of the lover you’d lost so long ago. But you are determined to help him and determined to be there for him. Ride or die for life right?

One thing you realize though after spending time with him is that yeah, hes different but also, not that different. He’s still cheeky in his own way and mischievous. Just a bit more subtle about it. Clever. As you get to know him and he learns to trust you he starts showing his true colors. Cracks grins and smirks, the first time you caught his lip twitching you thought you were hallucinating. His tail swishes and flicks with his amusement and you can gauge his mood by how deep the frown on his face or how tense his shoulders and tail are. He plays familiar pranks, sometimes with new twists on them. Being a prankster definitely is in his genetics.

Instead of talking he uses grunts and sounds, you learn what each means over time. His eyes also speak volumes now that you’ve grown to know him. They always reveal his true feelings and damn do they always look at you with that familiar warmth you’d come to associate with Wukong. As he gains more power he also gains confidence. His walk had always shown confidence but now he moves with a surety that starts to match Wukongs. He’s coming into himself and you find yourself becoming just as enamored with him the more you learn about him. The day he gives you a handsome smile is a day you will remember because your heart skipped several beats.

You grow closer with him and realize just how similar he and Wukong are, the difference is that Wukong had many years on this monkey to build himself up. It’s only a matter of time for the Destined One to do the same. He even enjoys being close to you and often finds reasons to be near you/touching you. His tail is wrapped around you sometimes in that familiar way Wukong used to do, it makes your heart full and also ache. Sometimes he just does things, acts certain ways that are so reminiscent of Wukong. While other times he does something completely different and new. It keeps you guessing.

When he speaks for the first time it about knocks you over. His voice is the same……your chest pinches hard both with happiness and sadness because damn did you miss his voice. But also, you’re falling in love with the way HE now talks.

You dont push for more from him, unsure for the first time in your life. Because should you? What if he really IS someone totally different but has similar traits? What if he just needs to grow into ‘Wukong’ more? What if hes the same but doesnt feel the same for you?

So many questions run through your head.

But one thing is certain, be it Wukong or Destined One you will support the ever living shit out of whatever he wants to do. Regardless of where your ‘relationship’ stands because you love ‘them’ equally.

And when he finally regains Wukongs memories?

Well…..I’ll leave that brain nugget up to you reader 😊

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

snowfall

summary: when she’s young and in between foster families, she meets a scrawny kid named Simon. Simon sits to the side while the other kids play, and she gives him her sandwich. When he leaves, forced to go back to his dad, she feels bad for him.

Then, when she gets older, she realizes that Simon was the lucky one. He made it out.

notes: based on the song snowfall, bc I’ve been listening to it and thinking about this fic a lot lately

warnings: mentions of abuse, human trafficking and childhood trauma. Violence. Allusions to smut? Afab!reader

taglist: @majesticwren @obsessiveformiyatwins (hmu to be added to any taglist!)

masterlist | requests are OPEN!

You’re back to square one, where you always end up when a foster family lets you go. A big, grey house that was built in the sixties and not once painted afterwards, that’s square one. Makeshift beds and damp rooms, showers that smell of piss and food that has the consistency of cardboard.

The house is so terrible on the inside that everyone flees into the parking lot, a barely better place to be. In the dirt-poor areas of Manchester, it’s all anyone can ask for. The younger kids play with chalk or run around, chasing each other, while the ones your age pass cigarettes and other stuff to each other.

None of you know each other’s names, but you’ve all seen each other in passing. Kids that were left on their own, that don’t trust easy won’t talk to each other either. Not really.

It’s rare to see a new face, so the teen sitting off to the side while the others talk catches you by surprise.

He’s massively tall already, but scrawny as hell, his hair in the awkward stage between short and being grown out. His eyes flit around, meeting no one else’s.

“Haven’t seen you before.” You greet, and he barely looks up. You offer him your name, and he pauses before he responds.

“Simon.” He says finally. There’s a short silence, broken by his rumbling stomach, and you hand him your sandwich without thinking twice. You’re not a big fan of tomatoes. He hesitates, inspecting it before he takes a bite. He barely nods as you tell him you don’t like tomatoes, and you doubt he even heard you.

“What are you doing here? Never seen you before.” You attempt, trying to make conversation. He shrugs in response, and you don’t pry further.

Simon sticks to you like glue in the days afterwards, a silent shadow that towers over you. Timmy, a kid that joined a gang after feeling overly confident, tries to approach you twice, but apparently, Simon’s glower is more intimidating than his stature.

After a week and a half, a social worker interrupts a game of Uno between you and Simon, pulling him away for a conversation. That usually means one of two things: going home, or going to a family of strangers.

You never get to find out which one it is, because Simon doesn’t say goodbye. You tell yourself that he made it home, or at least made it out. He seems like the type.

***

Against your hopes, and in line with all odds, you don’t make it out. Bouncing between foster families leaves you frustrated, angry and alone. A recipe for disaster, and you know it. Two years after Simon left the grey house that smelled like a germaphobe’s nightmare, you did as well.

Barely eighteen, with no one to back you up and not a single penny on your name, that went to shit quicker than you might have thought, and you found yourself exactly where you did not want to end up: the crime scene of Manchester.

It started off with little favors. Timmy convinced you. He said it wasn’t hard to sell drugs. That you’d only have to do it a few times, and then you’d have enough money to start yourself off with a real job. Something honest.

Something that would finally get you some real security. A sense of permanence.

Over the years, little favors turned into bigger favors.

Timmy, of course, didn’t know batshit about anything, and he certainly did not care to look into things more than he had to for you. And by the time your idiot, barely not-adolescent brain realized that, you were in too deep.

You’d done everything wrong, because selling drugs for a few days ‘wouldn’t hurt anyone’.

That was how you ended up as the cliché character of anti-everything prevention movies they showed you, back in the grey house. Abused, beaten-up, trafficked, sold, and not even out of your twenties.

Each time you thought about it, you wanted to laugh at yourself, to try and stop yourself from missing the gray house and the exhausted social workers that weren’t paid enough to care for any of you.

Just this time, you couldn’t go back to the gray house. You weren’t a child anymore. This time, people came for you to make sure that you’d pay them back what you owed them. Technically, what Timmy owed them.

They, whoever they were, took you away from Manchester, the only semblance of home you’d ever known. You found yourself in an abandoned cargo hall, freezing cold. From what you could see, it was snowing outside, the chill creeping inside. The girl next to you was out like a light, either from drugs, exhaustion, the cold, or a combination of all three.

You could make peace with the fact that you would never get out. You could just accept it, like you’d accepted everything else in your life. A voice in your head screamed that it wasn’t fair, and it felt like that scream was becoming more and more real. There was a ridiculous notion in the back of your mind, telling you to get up.

It bled into the screech from the gates of the cargo hall, protesting as they were opened. Your captors pointed their guns, but thick, white smoke filled the building, and you felt yourself become suddenly sleepy.

The last thing you saw were shadowy figures storming the hall, gunfire ringing out, smoke filling your nose and mouth.

***

When you came to, the smoke had dissipated, but you were still in the cargo hall. A group of men in camouflage walked around the hall, checking the men that were lying on the floor. One of them approached you and the others.

Almost automatically, you slinked backwards, out of his reach, but he gave you a soft smile.

He was young, too young to be in a place like this, with a sweet expression on his face that felt too saccharine to belong in the midst of this violence.

“I’m Gaz.” He said. “I’m with the British army, and we’re here to take you home. Are you hurt?”

Varying reactions came from the people around you, and you felt yourself numbly nodding. Home. Had a God heard your prayer and then decided to turn it into a joke?

The doctors arrived a while later, taking a look at everyone that had been with you. Some of the girls around you were drug addicts, and going into withdrawal was never pretty. The cargo hall quickly filled with the stench of vomit and cold sweat, but it meant that you got the time to look at the men that had stormed the hall. A gruff man with sideburns, a Scot with a mohawk that was chattering away with Gaz and-

He was hulking, a mountain that wore a skull instead of a face. You’d never met someone like him in your life, but he paused when he saw you, and you knew that he’d seen you before, this behemoth of a man.

***

It takes two more days before you’re back in England, but it doesn’t feel like a homecoming. Some of the girls have people waiting for them, parents, children, boyfriends, girlfriends to run into their arms and hold. Some are like you. No one comes, and they leave on their own.

You want to follow them. You can’t go back to Manchester. You’ll only return for your papers, if those still exist, and then you’ll leave.

You’re about to finally lift your feet from the cold, concrete floor when you feel a pair of eyes burning into your back.

Turning around, you see it’s the one they call Ghost. He’s standing off to the side, and it reminds you of something. You can’t figure out what it is, even though you try so so hard to just remember.

“Thank you for getting us out of there.” You blurt out, and he looks like he wants to say something, his jaw almost cramping together as he makes a tiny movement. You think it’s towards you.

“I owed you for the sandwich.” He says. The shrug looks forced, and you know that he can’t bring himself to say something more honest. “No tomatoes, of course.”

The seconds it takes you to understand seem to tick by outside of your brain, like a clock hammering with each moment passed. Then, your jaw falls slack.

“Simon?” you ask, too loudly, and the Scot named Soap snaps his head around to stare at you.

He doesn’t reply, and he doesn’t have to. You recognize his height, his eyes, the awkward standing off to the side so suddenly that it hits you like a fucking train. How couldn’t you see it before?

This is Simon. The kid that-

“You left without saying fucking anything!” you accuse, and you’re sure the others think you’re exes.

He just nods, and that almost infuriates you. But he made it out. He made something of himself, and you have to respect that. It’s all you want, always slipping away from your grasp, and Simon got it. Carved it out for himself, by the looks of it.

And finally, after an eternity, Simon steps forward and holds out a bag with the yellow-and-green subway logo on it.

“Hope you like it.” He mumbles, and it’s an almost adorable gesture. There’s no tomatoes, as he promised. Someone remembered something from your childhood.

You take the bag, and then you take the step separating you and hug him tightly. Are you overstepping a boundary? Is he going to push you off roughly?

He doesn’t hug you back, but he does allow you to wrap your arms around him (or, as much as you can do that with his new size).

His teammates stare, but you don’t let go. Not for a while.

“You got a place to stay?” he asks, when the others have gotten over the shock of your interaction. There’s genuine concern in his eyes, and a part of you hopes that you’re special in this, because you helped him too. Somehow.

“McDonalds is always open, and I’ve got…” you reach into your pocket, finding a crumpled note. “Enough for a large drink.”

He shakes his head. He offers his apartment, his home up to you and you should say no because he could traffic you, or rape you, or hurt you just enough to make you drag yourself back to Timmy.

You get into the car with him, and your mind screams danger. Your gut’s feeling alright though, so you ignore it.

The first change beyond the obvious of his massive frame that you notice is that he’s gotten even quieter. While you drag yourself up the dark staircase with some effort, he stays true to his name, not a single scrape coming from his combat boots.

In the apartment, he switches on the light, and you take in the spartan interior. A small kitchen, a sofa, a TV, a coffeetable with a mug still on it. No dinnertable, but three pictures on the refrigerator.

A young boy, a woman that reminds you of the younger Simon (maybe his mother?) and his teammates. Gaz, Soap, the older guy, two men that you don’t recognize, standing in scenery that looks almost tropical.

He lets you stare, before he quietly shows you the bathroom. You let the lock click behind you, even though you know that wouldn’t make much of an obstacle for the person he’s become.

You shower as quickly as you can, slipping back into your underwear. You hesitate for a moment, and then you grab the big, fluffy bathrobe hanging over the towel rack. Someone had vomited on your shirt, and you refused to put it on again.

The robe was too big for you, black with white skulls on it, and you highly doubted that Simon had bought it for himself. Maybe the Scot that cracked jokes with, or rather at him, had bought it for him and he’d caved to using it.

When you walked out, Simon was pulling clean sheets over the bed in his bedroom. He lifted his head when he heard you, and even through the balaclava, you knew he was lifting a brow at you.

“You’re wearing Soap’s bathrobe.” He commented.

“Someone vomited on my shirt.”

Simon did not reply, but he did turn around to rummage in his closet, throwing you one of his old shirts. You went back into the bathroom to put it on, and decided to not comment on the fact that it looked like a midi dress on you.

He closed the door behind him when he went to sleep, and the click of the lock felt a little insulting to you. Yet, you couldn’t expect him to trust you.

Sleep did not come easy to you, and when it did, you only had nightmares.

After a particularly bad one, you woke up with a start, only to find yourself face-to-face with one of your captors, face hid behind a balaclava, and you screamed.

Only after a few moments did you realize that it was Simon.

Between your panicked apologizing, and his nervous tea-making, it took a while for either of you to speak.

“I’m sorry for not telling you I was leaving.” He said finally, sitting across from you on the sofa, and still managing to take up three fourths of it.

“You didn’t have to. You didn’t know me.” You replied.

“I clung to you.” He said under his breath, as if it was an admittance of weakness.

“I liked it. Made me feel less alone.”

Your hands found each other in the dark, his fingers curling around yours and you swore that you could feel his heart hammer in his wrist.

“I don’t want to go to Manchester alone.” You whispered. It was an admittance of defeat.

“I’ll go with you.” Simon replied. He had no incentive to.

In the dark, it didn’t feel as preposterous or dangerous to move closer to him. He stilled when your knee bumped against his leg, and you held your breath, waiting for his rejection.

It didn’t come, only a shaky breath from Simon that gave the smallest of hints about how he was feeling. His hand was still holding yours, warm and a little rough, but it felt real. It made you move closer, to try and lean into his touch.

His hand slipped from yours, and for a moment, you thought that you’d done something wrong, but then you felt it on your waist, and Simon pulled you onto his lap. Your hands flew to his chest to steady yourself, and you could feel his hammering heart beating under his shirt.

Simon was so massive that he engulfed you, drowned out everything around you, and you loved it. There was nothing but him, and that didn’t scare you. It made you feel unfathomably safe.

He hugged you suddenly, a mirror gesture to what you’d done at the airport, his thick arms wrapping around you, pulling you even closer, until your lips were almost on his and he looked up at you with something in his eyes that you couldn’t place, because no one had ever looked at you like that.

You couldn’t help kissing him. Slowly, asking, almost begging, you peeled up the lower half of his balaclava, waiting for him to tell you to stop. Instead, even in the darkness, you knew that the stubble on his jaw was blonde, because it was impossible to forget someone like him. Your lips found his and it felt so right that your hands snaked up to his jaw, cradling his face in the hope that he’d know you cared for him.

Simon returned your kiss equally as hungry, demanding the air you breathed from you, his embrace swallowing you, and you wanted to give it all to him. Your hands shook as you reached to slip them over the band of his sweats, still unsure if he’d reject you, or let you do it.

Cautiously, your hands slipped under his t-shirt first, his skin feeling like it was burning in comparison to your cold fingers, warm to the touch, and safe.

“I thought about you a lot.” You admitted between kisses. “Wanted to know what happened to you.”

Simon stilled at that, his gaze shifting, warping from one unreadable expression to another.

“Nothin’ good.” He replied finally. You felt like an idiot. Like you’d just ruined the moment.

“I’m sorry.” You said, because you had no idea what else to say. His hand found yours, and you felt like whatever was going to happen to you, it was going to be okay.

[kneelingshadowsalome]

prefacing this by saying I have absolutely no information on this period of history, but Rome was sacked and ultimately destroyed by Germanic tribes.

And naturally, the first thing I thought of upon learning that was Invader!König X Roman Maiden!Reader. Similar to your story, I’m thinking he decides to take the Reader as a trophy of war similar to his comrades. You and plenty of other maidens are tied up, thrown across horseback or across shoulders, and dragged off back to Germania. Depending on how dark you want it, König could wait for his little prize to want his cock, or he could have no patience at all and fuck her as soon as he gets a chance. Of course, he’s still somewhat of a gentleman, he’ll make sure she enjoys it, but like it or not his cock’s going in her.

I think this is an opportunity to lean even further into the barbarian König idea, with varying levels of darkness.

Save me dark barbarian!König... 🖤💋

CW: dark content, noncon groping, noncon cuddling, fear of SA, König's idea of hot sex is problematic to say the least, reader's level of enthusiasm/consent is ambiguous

He doesn’t care about your delicate sensibilities or noble background, he’s here to bring your Empire down and your weak men to their knees. It’s about time someone burned Rome to the ground; no amount of foreign perfume can cover the smell of shit in these streets…

But he won’t say no to gold or jewels, they might some day decorate his future wife's neck and wrists perhaps. Neither will he ride homeward without a slave to keep him warm. He hasn’t had a woman in months, the only thing closest to a cunt has been his calloused fist and he’s grown tired of that, nothing can compare with the real deal so a soft little female is exactly what he needs to keep him company when he and his warriors return North.

Your options are either freezing to death or crawling inside this giant’s cloak when he holds it open for you come nightfall, the voyage to Germania bringing with it the first snow and cold winds straight from Hades. You have no option but to go to this man for some body heat, the low rumble in his chest resembling the pleased purr of some untamed beast as he envelops you in wool and a hungry embrace.

He never speaks to you, only talks with his hands that roam all over your body as you cling to him with clattering teeth. Examining the wideness of your hips, the plumpness of your ass and tits, he serves himself a handful and some pinches as if he’s sampling fruit at the marketplace. Rubs your nipples between the pad of his thumb and pointer until you flinch from pain, mutters something pleased when he sees your skittish reaction. He won’t allow you to pull away however, not when you’re finally here, so back to his arms you go as he crushes you against his chest.

He’s amused at your attempts to both huddle closer and squirm away: why are you being so difficult when clearly, you want this too?

He saw how you looked at him back there when he was drenched in blood, that’s the reason he chose you. You’re sweeter than an apple, didn’t even scream when he swept your hair from your face to have a better look at you, you only eyed him with challenge when he inspected your lips, waistline and hips. A scared female would have avoided his eyes and begged not to be killed or worse, but you only lifted your chin and spat on his face, practically begging to get fucked…

And now you’re acting like you don’t want his cock while at the same time, you continue to stare at him like a deer in heat. If you don’t want him to fuck you then you should stop making him hard, but in truth König is only glad that he chose you out of all women. The ride back home won’t be dull with a fiery fox woman like you, he has to be careful that he doesn’t get bitten and bruised… How his men would laugh in the morning if they found out that the vixen he stole has made him hers, little teeth marks decorating his skin and betraying everyone your claim.

He would only be proud of you if you did that; women are quite adorable when they have some fire in them. But make no mistake, he won’t let you go no matter how hard you act like you hate him… Everyone here knows you want to jump on his cock; had he decided to inspect your pussy too while covered in your husband’s blood, he could’ve bet all his fortune along with his horse that you were already wet for him.

He could take you right now on this cold, hard ground, try to see how long it takes to make you wet and pliant. The only thing really keeping him from doing so are his men, no doubt wanting to see how a Roman lady takes their giant leader's cock. But he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing you naked, let alone watching him fuck you, he'd have to kill them all afterwards...

So he settles for making his naughty little slave warm, and both of you a little breathless. He can find a more discreet place for you tomorrow, order a break or two to ease the heaviness of his sacks, the aching hard ons he’s had ever since he saw you. He has to be careful not to break you, and remember to kiss you on your neck, he heard that that’s the key to make women wet and willing.

You seem so fragile and frail when you fall asleep, finally surrendering to him, your body yielding and molding against his. In the morning, you whimper sweetly when he squeezes your now warm, plush body, and plants kisses on your face, your neck. You have no idea that the warriors are already mocking him for “making you wait so long”, that he has listened to stupid jokes all morning with you securely tucked inside his cloak. You bite him when he tries to come too close, all the brutes around you burst to laughter as he howls from pain.

Not feeling at all sorry for him when he rubs his neck and looks at you with drowsy curiosity, you rise and spit again on the ground as if you had just tasted something vile. He can’t stifle his smile then, your idea of foreplay is much more fun than what he had in mind…

And you aren’t flung over his horse, but actually get to ride it with him, the arm around your middle like iron as he keeps you as close to him as possible. You don’t know that he’s reluctant to take an unwilling woman, and that this preference makes him the laughing stock of the group. Neither do you know that König has already pictured you inside his hut, baking bread and scolding children like the firebrand that you are, giving him a naughty little wrestle and a fistfight every night before bed... Shuddering from want like you do now on his horse as he exposes your breasts to the approaching winter.

You are about to faint as tiny snowflakes land on your nipples, melting instantly as this man starts to fondle your tits. Slumping against his blazing form, you can do nothing but accept your fate as the horse keeps walking and the men around you shout and whistle at the sight of your breasts. The rough barks of your captor quickly end their excitement upon seeing your exposed tits, the whistles stop and the men turn their eyes quickly away from you.

The man behind you is now perfectly content, riding in the crisp morning air while pawing your breast with one hand and holding the reins with the other, his groin grinding against you with the movements of the horse, making it clear that he might soon stop this torture altogether and take you to the nearby woods for a quick fuck…

[misserabella]

bad idea

+18 eddie munson x fem! reader

synopsis; whatever you do… don’t you ever take an aphrodisiac with your best friend (who you secretly love), or do… We all have good bad ideas.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 ! either ways, i hope y’all like it<3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

cw; no use of y/n, use of pet names (angel, sweetheart, gorgeous, baby…) cursing, dirty talk, daddy kink, aphrodisiac (as a drug and drug mentions!), teasing, throat/mouth fucking (w fingers too <3), cum eating, breeding kink, dacryphilia (kinda??), a lil’ tiny bit of perv! eddie, smut, p in v sex, cock warming, overstimulation, squirting, choking, non protected sex (GUYS STDS ARE REAL, WRAP THE DONG UP), cream pie, finger fucking, oral sex (f and m receiving), hair pulling, praising, degradation, multiple orgasms… MINORS DNI!!!

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

a/n; THANKS FOR THE 1K FOLLOWERS, Y’ALL MADE ME SO HAPPY IT’s INSANE

this was so fun to make! hope you all love it!<333

‘You need to open up wider, sweetheart.’

Eddie was really stupid. You loved him, and he has been your best friend your whole life. But he was stupid. The biggest idiot in the world… But if he was the biggest stupid in the world then you were the second.

When Eddie started to sell weed you were scared at first for him in case Hopper ever caught him, but he never did and never will. Eddie was cautious. Knew what he was doing and how to do it. And he did it great. He was sly, and had a lot of clients. Clients that he did everything to try and please, so much that he tried every new type of drug that fell into his hands to make sure he was giving no shit. He took pride on his quality.

And you swore to try every and each of one of them. You had your good trips and bad trips. Took care of each other and always stood safe. You knew your limits. Or that’s what you thought.

‘Cause you should have known that this was a really bad idea. You knew that it was dangerous, and crossed a line a little… sensitive. But once again you were stupid. Really stupid. And you liked your best friend too much to think straight.

“You want me to take an aphrodisiac…, with you.” you tried and clarify as Eddie stood there, all wide eyed and smiley with two pink little pills on his hand.

“Yeah.” he nodded.

“…” “Okay.” you shrugged, not thinking twice to on swallowing the pill along with him.

If only you knew what of a great mistake that was…

Or maybe not.

-

You were horny, so horny that you couldn’t stop your thighs from pressing against each other, trying hard for your best friend, which stood seated on his bed next to you, to not notice. You were listening to some music, waiting for the drug to take effect. It was fast. Too fast.

Your whole skin grew on goosebumps, your cheeks flushing and body running hot, so hot you were melting. You tried not to. Not to think about how nice he looked, the way he licked his lips every few seconds as if his mouth were dry. You tried not to stare too much at him, not to breath too hard or you’ll inhale his perfume, which seemed to be everywhere. And you surely tried to not let your mind get filled with scenarios in which your best friend shouldn’t be participating with you. But it was no luck, you failed the very moment you noticed the bulge that had grown under the sweats that he wore to stay comfy on his house.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Eddie was suffering. His eyes away from you as best as he could. He couldn’t stop too much to stare at your bare legs and plushy thighs or he’ll for sure burst on his pants like a complete 13 year old virgin who just found out what porn was. And your tits… God, he always tried and avoid thinking about your nipples pressing against his tee-shirts —which you borrowed every day—, and the way you just casually stopped wearing bras around him. But now was impossible, since you were wearing his Hell Fire shirt and he could see just how erect your nipples were through the white of it. He wanted to lick them, wanted to suck on them so bad, kiss your chest and leave you full of marks, fuck his cock in between your tits and paint them on his cum…

Shit. Shit. Shit.

His dick was incredibly hard, leaking on his thigh and twitching in need of attention. His breath hitched when he tried and reposition it inside his pants, biting down on his lip to not let out a groan due to the pressure.

You were seating one next to another, shoulders almost brushing, hands almost touching. And you needed to touch him so bad… So bad, oh god.

You couldn’t stop thinking about what he had told you about his sexual encounters. About what he had found he liked the most.

It was no big deal. You and Eddie didn’t keep secrets from one another, and somehow along the way, the theme had just… came up. So you had talked about it. A lot. And it was no big deal, ‘was’, or so you tried to convince yourself. But now… Now it was a big deal.

You couldn’t stop wondering if he would treat you as he treated all of those other girls. If he would choke you, spank you, praise you… You wondered what position would make you feel him the best. How far would his dick go down your throat? You would love to suck his dick. You wanted to call him daddy too. Knowing that he would probably fuck you harder, like he once told you he had fucked a girl after it.

You needed to know, needed to know how he would eat you out. Needed to know how big he was.

Shit.

You were breathing heavily, your eyes on the veins of his arms and hands, those hands that you’ve dreamed with so many times, those fingers that you had pretended and were the ones fucking your cunt when you touched yourself.

The tension inside the room could be cut with a knife. And you were the only ones in the trailer since Wayne was working a double shift.

You couldn’t look at each other. Or at least you did as if you hadn’t caught the other staring… ‘Cause Eddie’s mind was getting too fuzzy and his attempts to stop staring at you slowly started to be less and less effective. He just couldn’t get the image of fucking you right there and then, with his tee-shirt on, and fill you up with his cum over and over again until you couldn’t stop crying due to how full you felt. He couldn’t stop thinking about playing with that little button that he for sure knew would make you scream, the tightness and wetness of your pussy…

God, he shouldn’t be feeling this way about his best friend, the one that he had grown up with… But he did, and always had.

“It’s…” he jolted when your voice suddenly filled the room, taking him by surprise. “It’s good.” you awkwardly smiled, still not looking at him.

It was good as fuck. So good that it had you soaking through your short jeans.

“Yeah…” he breathed out, feeling his cock stir just by hearing your voice on his pants as he scoffed and repositioned himself on the bed. He wanted to know how good you would sound moaning his name.

You gasped when your skin made contact, both your hands brushing the slightest, but still enough to make your skin grow on goosebumps.

Eddie looked at you and then at your hands. His cheeks were flushed, and his lips looked all red and swollen, as he hadn’t stopped biting on them.

You thought he would move away then, but surprisingly enough he made your hands brush again, getting the same reaction out of you.

You were shivering when he turned your hand on his own. You stared at him with furrowed eyebrows, confused. But he simply looked into your eyes and started caressing your palm. Slowly, teasingly…

He knew what he was doing. You could see it in his eyes. In the little smirk that was trying to appear on his lips.

Your breath hitched, wherever his fingertips touched felt like your skin was mixing up with his.

You only could look into his eyes, into his stupidly beautiful dark brown eyes which pupils were blown.

You didn’t say anything, you couldn’t. Your throat was tied in knots and your stomach was burning with suck need that was making you feel dizzy. Maybe that’s why you did what you did, but before you knew it you were taking his teasing hand and slowly raising it up to your lips.

Eddie’s breathing was heavy when your lips parted and you nipped on his fingertips, your cheeks hollowing around two of his fingers when you pushed them inside your mouth. You never stopped staring at him as your tongue started to swirl his fingers, teasing, inviting…

He groaned, and your pussy clenched around nothing, gagging when he suddenly thrusted his fingers deeper inside your mouth. “Uh-uh…” he clicked his tongue. “You need to open up wider, sweetheart.” you did as he told you, this time feeling his fingers down your throat. “That’s it, good girl.” his praise was low, his voice making you shiver and moan around his fingers. He smirked when you took his wrist to push his hand closer, his fingers deeper. You needed more. You needed him to fuck your mouth, use your throat and make you gag all around him. “Oh, well isn’t that pathetic… Look at you. Why so needy, hm?” you whimpered, and his dick twitched so hard he had to breath in the best he could. Shit, you looked so pretty. “My girl just needed something to suck on, isn’t that right? Your mouth was feeling empty, huh?” he inquired and you nodded, your teary eyes staring into his own. He wanted to make you cry. On your mind his words playing over and over again. ‘My girl, my girl, my girl, my girl…’ “Poor baby, having such a hard time…” he shook his head. “Maybe I should help you, what do you think, hm?” his heart skipped a beat when you pushed his fingers out of your mouth, still connected by a string of spit that he so badly wanted to lick.

“Please, Eddie, please, please, please…” you begged, and even if you didn’t ‘knew’, you knew you were in too deep now. Your brain was completely disconnected, you couldn’t think straight, the only thing in your mind being your oh so pretty best friend, and his lips, and his eyes, and his…

You gulped when he smirked, his hand guiding yours towards his crotch, his dick reacting to your touch with a tug that you felt through the sweats. He was hard, so hard your mouth was watering.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” he said, and you had never been so fast in your life at tugging someone else’s pants down. The boxers disappeared just as fast, and your eyes widened when his cock slapped his stomach when it was finally freed. It was so big…, so big that you couldn’t stop the moan that left your lips, making Eddie groan. His tip was the most beautiful pink you have ever seen, fully leaking and all pearly with his pre-cum. He was long, and a couple of veins popped on his shaft. You could only imagine how good it will feel dragging up and down your walls. You were salivating, with your knees tucked below your butt for him, kneeling on the bed. “Here, let me help you, baby.” he said before taking your hair in one of his hands, collecting all of it in some kind of a ponytail that would allow him to fuck your throat harder and see those beautiful eyes of yours tear up as you took him in your mouth. He had been dreaming about this moment since he could remember, and he sure as hell was going to fully enjoy it. He was going to take it all in.

He groaned when your lips took his head, your tongue tasting the musk and saltiness of the beads on the slit, which made you hum. Eddie had to try really hard to not cum right there and then, his balls so full it was painful.

“There you go.” he sighed, watching as you slowly started to fuck his cock into your mouth.

You could almost cry of happiness and relief. He felt so heavy on your mouth, so warm and so big… You only wanted to choke on it, wanted him to leave your throat sore and swollen from thrusting on it. You didn’t care, you just needed it, even if that made you unable to talk tomorrow morning.

“So greedy…” he chucked when you took too much of him and gagged, pulling yourself off of him to take a deep breath, your hand on your base, which pooled with your spit. “I know what you want.” you let out a little shriek when he suddenly pulled at your hair towards his cock, making you take him once again in your mouth, fucking your throat. “Been wanting me to fuck this tight throat of yours, huh? Isn’t that right, doll?” he panted when your nails dug on the flesh of his thighs, your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to contain your gagging and breath through your nose. “Been wanting me to use you like a simple little toy, hm? Fuck your mouth full of my cum.” you moaned, making him do it as well at the feeling. “Shit. You look so pretty taking me so good, choking on my cock and letting me use you like a fucking slut. Fuck, been thinking about you sucking my cock for years.”

Eddie moaned when one of your hands took his balls and rolled them in between your fingers. They were heavy and full for you, ready to stuff you up with his cum and get you all fucked out and pretty for him.

“Yeah, that’s it. Good girl, shit, you’re gonna make me cum so hard…” he groaned, struggling to maintain his eyes open, getting too lost on the squelching of your mouth, on the feeling of your tongue and throat, of your hands on his balls, on the tears on your eyes and the whimpers and moans that you were letting out only for him to hear. “Fuck.” he was close. He could feel it, the drug making him impossible for him to hold it much more due to how turned on and sensitive he was. “I’m gonna cum.” he moaned, and before you knew it, he was filling your throat with his white, heavy and creamy seed. You sighed in pleasure, milking him with your mouth as he rode out his orgasm with a groan.

He let go of your hair, and you let his dick fall out of your mouth with a pop, not before having cleaned his head with your tongue and having swallowed his seed just like the good girl he knew you were.

“Fuck.” he groaned before he harshly pulled you in, crashing your lips together in a searing kiss that had you moaning in his mouth and left your legs shaking.

Your hands found his hair as he pushed his tongue inside your mouth, humming when he tasted himself in it. He needed to drink you up, needed you to ride his face and leave him tasting of you, needed you to leave his face all soaked with your juices.

“Now it’s my turn.” he said, and you didn’t argue when he popped the bottom of your shot jeans open. “God, angel.” he groaned when he saw the little lace pink panties that you were wearing, which now stood completely soaked with your slick. “Is this for me?” you moaned when his fingers touched you over the lace, pushing the slightest between your wet and warm folds. You nodded, whimpering a ‘yes’, feeling blissed by his touch. It was everything you had ever dreamed of. Like biting the apple of Eden under the eye of god, like drinking water after days in the sun, like breathing after almost drowning in the sea… Eddie was everything you had dreamed of. Everything you wanted. Everything you needed. “So good for me…” you cried out when he pushed you against the sheets, his mouth latching at your thighs to leave marks that you’d proudly wear tomorrow with your oh so short skirts and dresses. “Why don’t you pull your panties off for me and let me take a look, hm?” you nodded, using your legs to raise your hips and pull your underwear down your thighs. Eddie took care of it, once they were completely off, throwing somewhere on the room’s floor, still taking a mental note to make sure to steal them before you could notice.

You were burning up and dying at the same time.

It was like his touch didn’t exist but filled your senses altogether.

“Oh god.”

Just the simple act of touching, of him kissing you, holding you… Was just so intimate that your bones were breaking in half. It hurt, but hurt so good .

You felt everything ten times stronger.

And you swore your heart was about to stop when his hand disappeared in between your legs. His touch felt like freezing, but burning at the same time.

“Fuck, angel.” he groaned and you moaned at the sleek that pooled between your tights. You were soaked. You could feel it flowing down your lips to the sheets. “So wet…” Eddie‘s fingers shone with your arousal, which he tasted when he inserted his fingers in his mouth, moaning at the taste. “So sweet…”

Suddenly his head was now inches away from your heat, and you screamed at the first drag of his tongue, lapping at your slick with his eyes closed in pleasure, separating your lips —which hardly stood connected with strings of your arousal— and circling your clit. You could see stars. Even if you had your eyes closed.

“Eddie.” you cried out as he ate you out like a starved animal, devouring you, tasting you as if you were his last meal.

He groaned when your fingers laced in his curls, tugging on them due to the pleasure.

He hummed when your hips rocked against his face when his nose bumped against your clit, his tongue harshly pushing against your hole. “Please…” you didn’t know what you were begging for, but he seemed to understand. He always did.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head when he plunged two of his fingers on your warm and wet pussy. You couldn’t help it. Couldn’t help the way your grip tightened on his curls, the way your hips rose or the word that fell of your lips in a needy moan.

“Daddy.”

And then he suddenly stopped. He stopped his thrusting, his kisses… Everything stopped. And your gut clenched in need.

“What did you just call me?” he said below a whisper, his dark onyx eyes heavy on you, so heavy you felt crushed.

Your cheeks heat up, but even if you had heard him, you couldn’t listen. “No!” You whimpered, one of your hands reaching to circle his wrists in hopes that he would touch you again, that he would help you subside your thirst for him once again. “Please don’t stop, please!” you were at the verge of tears, you felt so close to cumming, so close that you swore it physically pained you. You needed him, needed him so bad your bones shivered and your whole body trembled.

“What’s wrong, baby?” he pouted, mocking you, although you didn’t care since he was back to curling his fingers inside of you and making pants fell from your lips. “You’re about to cum?” but again, he had stopped, and again, you found yourself pleading him. “If you want to cum, then you’d have to say it.” you knew what he was referring to, but you still found yourself so embarrassed that you could bring yourself to say it. “Come on sweetheart, use that pretty mouth of yours to call me ‘daddy’ again, would you?” your whole body flushed at his smirk, your cheeks so red and hot that you could feel them burning.

But again, even though you were embarrassed to the marrow, it only took a single curl of his fingers to make you dissolve on his hands. “Daddy, please, daddy…” you whimpered, and he smiled.

“That’s my good girl.” you moaned, probably due to his praising, or probably to the fact that his lips were back on your clit, sucking on it ‘till your thighs were shaking on the sides of his face. “Daddy’s good girl.”

You clenched around his fingers with a moan so high that you swore the whole trailer park had heard you as the tension on your lower stomach finally snapped, your pussy gushing on his mouth and fingers, slick that he made sure to lap at to as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You could feel tears swelling in your eyes at the overstimulation. It was too much, but at the same time not enough.

You needed him, needed his cock, his body, his mouth…

“Eddie, please…” you begged for him with a new tug and he looked at you, his chin and lips completely bathed in you. “Please it’s not enough…” you whimpered. “Please, daddy…”

He groaned, ‘cause he felt the exact same way than you, he could eat you out day and night, he loved it, from your taste to the little sweet sounds that you let out… But he couldn’t stop thinking about stuffing you full, filling you up until he could see his dick bulging in your lower stomach, fuck you so raw and rough that you couldn’t stop screaming, leaving you voiceless the next morning. He wanted to make you cry.

“Fuck.” he was quick to pull his boxers down and get on top of you. “I know baby, I know…” you whimpered when he took place in between your legs, the head of his huge cock gliding through your folds in ease, circling your clit, pushing against your entrance… “Gonna let me fuck you raw, sweetheart? Let me cum inside and fill you up? Get you all round and pretty for me?” you moaned, sensing your whole body shake. You shook your head ‘yes’, crying out a ‘yes please daddy, pleasepleaseplease’ and he almost could cum right there and then.

You let out a quiet scream when he got balls deep inside you in a quick and harsh thrust. You went breathless. He stretched you out like no one would ever do, fill you to the brim, his head abusing your g spot with every new snap of his hips.

“I’m sorry baby.” he moaned as he moved ‘till only the tip stood inside. “I don’t think I’m gonna be able to control myself. I need to fuck you so bad…” you nails dug on his back when he thrusted in again.

“EddieEddieEddieEddie…” you cried out over and over again, the squelching sound of his dick fucking into your wet hole making you so horny that you couldn’t stop the need to move your hips against his, what made him groan and grip your hips to do it for you, but harder. Much much harder. “Shit!” your voice cracked. He rose you up as if you were as light as a feather, making you sit on his cock.

You choked on just how deep it got, it caressed places so deep within you that made breathing harder.

“That’s right baby, fuck, moan for me, you sound so sweet when your voice breaks with every scream.” your jaw was slack, lips parted as he rose you up and down his dick, using you like he could use a toy. You couldn’t stop moaning, moans that came out broken due to how hard he was fucking you and how high and loud your voice was.

Tears were falling from your cheeks with every new thrust, you felt so overstimulated by the drug that it was too much. Too much, but your body desired so much more.

You wanted Eddie to break you, fuck you brainless, make you sob…

The grip on your throat silenced your screams as he choked you, his tongue licking the tears out of your face just to later on lick into your mouth. Spit dribbled out of your lips and painted your chest due to how messy it was. You were a babbling mess. ‘Daddy, daddy, ah, Eddie, shit, ah…’

Eddie groaned and moaned, his eyebrows furrowing when your walls started to clench around him. “Are you gonna come for me, princess? Gonna come on my cock? Gonna come on daddy’s cock?” you nodded, your breathing ragged as you whimpered slurred ‘yes, yes, yes…’. Your g spot was being abused with every new jump, your clit, being caressed by two of his fingers. Your nails dug on his shoulders, your head falling backwards and a scream leaving your lips. You rode him in need of a release and he knew that, his lips on your neck, sucking bruises that made you lose your mind. “Then come.” your whole body seemed to die and come back to life then, your high hitting you so hard your ears rung and your sight went white. Eddie moaned when he felt it, the warmth of your cum surrounding his dick, painting his cock in white, and he almost came when he watched it pool at the base of his cock like a white ring.

He had you back on your back, taking your legs and pushing them agains your chest, fucking into you so hard that hit your cervix over and over again.

You though that your high would go down, but instead, you found yourself screaming when it only seemed to go higher and higher.

“Eddie, I’m gonna, I’m gonna…” you found yourself coming again, right after your first.

“Oh shit sweetheart, did you just came twice?” you where digging your nails on his biceps as tears rolled down your cheeks and onto the pillow, soaking the sheets. You were letting out cracked and short moans that got cut with every thrust of his. “Fuck, you drive me insane.”

And yet you felt like you were gonna die.

“Eddie, stop, stop…” you cried out due to the overstimulation, still feeling your body scream for more, your ‘o’ slurred and dragged. “Something’s gonna—“

Before you could finish your sentence, your back was arching and your pushy gushing as it’s walls fluttered around Eddie’s cock, which now stood soaked with your squirting.

“Fuck.” he moaned when he saw it, his hips snapping harder and harder against you, following the amazing feeling for your tight, warm cunt. You kept squirting over and over again as Eddie praised and teased you under his breath. “Are you feeling good, princess? Look at you, all messed up on my dick. So pretty soaking my sheets.”

He was close, so fucking close that moans started to fall from his lips, his hips stuttering as his high reached him. “Gonna fill you real nice, gorgeous. Gonna leave you so full your pussy’s gonna be dripping. Gonna look so pretty when I fuck it back into you.”

And with a final grunt he came, his load creamy, hot and heavy inside you. You moaned at the feeling, pushing him deeper inside you. You needed him deeper. He let go of your legs, which fell around him, trembling and twitching, as he fell on top of you, his lips on your neck.

He stood there for a couple of minutes, just kissing you, hugging you. But you could feel it, you could still fell the burning feeling that the drug had left you with, feel his dick growing inside of you. When you least expected it, he had turned you over, pushing your body against the duvet and starting to fuck into you once again.

“Sorry angel, just one more.” you couldn’t say no, not when he was fucking you so good and nice, not when you needed him so bad you felt like drowning.

Your nails dug in the bed sheets, your moans and screams being muffled by his pillow, which was getting wet with your drooling and new tears.

“Good girl, taking me so good… Pussy so tight and wet for me, sucking me in so nice…” you screamed when one of his hands sneaked in between your legs and under your stomach to start circling your clit, in just a mere seconds slowly starting to build another orgasm, as strong as the rest. “Can feel you clenching, sweetheart. Are you gonna come again? Gonna soak my sheets for me once more?” before you could even answer, you were falling apart, droplets falling down your tights. “Fuck.”

This time it only took a couple more hard and deep thrusts for Eddie to cum, overstimulated by the recent orgasm and the incredible feeling of your own.

You whimpered, feeling so full your stomach would bulge with his cum.

You felt boneless when he slowly and softly took you with him to your side, cuddling you with his cock still buried deep into your full cunt. You sighed at the feeling, so drunk on him, so in love with the soft kisses that he left on your shoulders, the sweet words that he whispered in your ear. ‘You did so good for me, angel.’ ‘You’re so beautiful, so, so beautiful sweetheart.’ ‘Such a good girl for me…’

“Gonna let me keep it inside you all night like the good girl you are, huh? Gonna let me fuck you up all pretty tomorrow morning too, isn’t that right baby?” you nodded, letting out a little whimper that made him hum.

Eddie was stupid, and you were stupid too. And you two were stupidly in love with each other.

Stupid, isn’t it?

-

[nyahsworld14]

No guys you don't understand. Jason should be totally okay with Bruce and the other Bats shitting on him for decades while he was dead because it was so hard for them when he died. No yeah like I'm sure dying must have been so hard for him you know the guy that died, but why does no one ever talk about how his death pushed Bruce to do absolutely nothing as he never once avenged Jason's life.

Do you know how hard it must have been for Bruce and Alfred to call him a violent fuck up for so long without ever having to try and change and be better people?

I mean who would expect two grown adult men to talk better about the dead don't you know they're grieving. They have to demonize this 15 year old how else will they process their feelings.

Yeah no Jason trying to kill the Joker in front of Bruce though that's the real problem that's where he went too far.

[sparkle-fiend]

Eddie is six years old, the first time he hears the voice. 

It wakes him with a jolt – sends him tearing through the house, searching under every bed and behind every door for the boy he hears calling his name.

Mama finally stops him. “Sweetheart, what did you lose this time?” (Eddie is always losing things.) She looks impatient, standing with a laundry basket balanced on one cocked hip, curly hair spilling out of the messy bun on top of her head.

“I heard somebody saying my name! I gotta find him, I think he’s hiding.”

Mama’s whole attitude changes, all at once. She sets the laundry aside and drops to her knees in front of him, squeezing his little hands between her own. “Oh baby. That voice means you’ve got a soulmate!”

She smiles bright as the suncatcher hanging in the window, and presses sloppy kisses all over his face until he screams with laughter, squirming to get away. 

“My lucky, special boy!”

Eddie’s never been lucky before. It’s exciting.

———

In school, they learn all about soulmates. About how rare they are. Uncle Wayne is the only other person Eddie knows that has one. 

When he found out about Uncle Wayne’s soulmate, Eddie was so excited – bubbling full of questions, like a bottle of fizzy pop. But whenever he tried to talk about it, his dad got real mad.

“You keep your mouth shut about soulmates,” he said. “Don’t talk about that shit in front of your uncle.”

It’s hard. Eddie starts staying over at Uncle Wayne’s trailer more and more when Mama gets sick. And Eddie’s never been good at following rules; especially when he’s curious about something.

“Uncle Wayne?” Eddie finally asks one day. “Where’s your soulmate? How come I’ve never seen her?” You have met her right? is what Eddie’s really asking. He can’t imagine waiting until he’s as old as Uncle Wayne to find his soulmate.

His uncle goes sort of brittle, tensing up like every joint is made of glass. His lips press together behind his beard, and his denim blue eyes go shiny and wet – like he’s trying not to cry.

If Eddie could take the question back, he would. Suck it right back into his mouth, like the smoke from his uncle’s cigarettes. This is why you gotta listen better baby – that’s what his Mama would probably say.

“My Lorretta died a few years ago. Before you were born.”

Eddie never considered that. In all the movies, soulmates die together. The thought of it leaves a queasy feeling squirming through his stomach.

“I still hear her though,” Uncle Wayne says, with a terribly soft look in his eyes. “Still hear her singing our song.”

“Like a memory?” Eddie whispers.

His uncle shakes his head. “Time don’t matter for soulmates – no more than distance. I can hear her still, across the years.”

Like a ghost, his uncle doesn’t say. A ghost that will haunt him forever. None of the dry textbooks in school ever mentioned that part.

It starts to worry Eddie. As he gets older, his soulmate’s voice starts to get clearer. He always hears the same thing – a desperate, grown-up voice screaming at him to “Run Eddie! RUN!!!” 

It must be from the future. But his soulmate sounds so scared. What could possibly happen, to make his soulmate sound like that?

Eddie starts to listen to music more. Loud, heavy stuff to drown out the frightened voice. 

Late at night, he curls up under the covers and softly sings his Mama’s favorite song – hoping that somewhere, somewhen, his soulmate will hear him.

That it might help, the way it helps Eddie when Mama sings him to sleep.

———

Eddie is twelve years old, the first time he really listens to the voice.

Mama's been dead two years, and his dad keeps pulling riskier and riskier jobs. Tonight, he's decided to try and break into the pawn shop on Fifth street. 

Eddie is the lookout, stationed on the opposite corner with a pistol weighing heavy in the pocket of his coat (just in case, Ed). 

He doesn't want to be here. He tried to argue with his dad. Said, "I've got a test tomorrow. I've got homework and..." and I hate this life. (He doesn't say that part.) I don't want to steal cars or break into buildings or mug people. I don't want to be like you.

His dad just gripped him by the arm hard enough to bruise, and said, "You like to eat, dont'cha? Well, lookouts get to eat. Lazy little shits don't." 

So Eddie is standing on a street corner in the middle of the night, watching his dad furtively attempt to pick the lock on the front door of the pawn shop, when a cop car slows down at the end of the street.

Fear floods his bloodstream so fast it leaves him dizzy. The cop has clearly noticed something. Eddie can see the shadowed figure inside the car reach for his radio. 

Eddie has two choices.

He could pull the pistol out of his pocket and fire a few shots down the street, forcing the cop to take cover long enough for his dad to get away (which is what his dad would expect him to do). Or he could... 

"Run!"

The sudden loud voice, echoing between his ears and behind his eyes and inside his heart, startles him into flinching. 

"Run Eddie, RUN!!!" His body obeys before his brain has a chance to process the words. He's halfway down the street when the siren shrieks to life. 

Later, as he sits in the backseat of the social worker's car on the way to his Uncle Wayne, he can't quite believe he did it. He bailed on his dad - left him to get arrested and go to prison. This is Frank Munson's third strike; he'll go away for life this time. 

I'm such a coward, Eddie thinks numbly. Such a chicken piece of shit. He digs his ragged nails into the soft flesh of his palms, squeezing hard enough to draw blood. 

As if he'd spoken aloud, a soft voice responds, "You're not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I've ever known. Running isn't always a bad thing, okay? Sometimes it's just the smart thing to do."

His soulmate sounds so fierce, so certain. Eddie blinks hard against the hot burn of tears. The smart thing to do.

———

Eddie holds onto those words, like magic talismans. They provide comfort, not just in the immediate days after his dad's arrest, but other times too. Every time he runs away from a bully or a cop or a deal gone bad, Eddie thinks to himself - I'm not a coward. I'm just smart.

It works... until the night he stumbles out of his uncle's trailer, leaving Chrissy Cunningham's broken body on the living room floor. He's so terrified he doesn't have time to think, not until after he's ditched his van and taken shelter in Rick's boathouse. As he leans against the splintered wall and catches his breath, it hits him.

I left her there. What if she was still alive? (She wasn't. She couldn't have been. Not after... not after that.) He grabs fistfuls of hair and tugs until his scalp aches. Wracks his brain trying to figure out what happened, what he could have done to stop it.

He's never felt so ashamed before, not even when his dad was cursing and screaming and calling him a coward through the thick glass of the visitation window. 

His soulmate's words whisper in his ears, "...sometimes it's just the smart thing to do," and Eddie pounds on his skull with his fists to drown the voice out. "Not this time," he snarls. I should have done something. I should have tried to save her. 

He doesn’t feel smart this time. He feels like a cowardly piece of shit.

His soulmate’s voice falls silent. 

Through all the craziness to follow – finding out that monsters are real, running for his life from an angry mob, fighting alongside Steve Harrington in an evil Upside Down version of Hawkins – Eddie doesn’t hear his soulmate again.

Not until he’s staring up at Dustin Henderson, realizing that he can’t run away again. As he hesitates at the bottom of the rope, Dustin calls out nervously, “Eddie, what are you doing?”  

“I’m buying more time,” he says. He ignores Dustin’s screams as he cuts the rope and slides the mattress out of the way – making sure the kid can’t follow him. 

And then he hears his soulmate say, “Wait, wait a second. Eddie?! Is that you?” 

Eddie is twenty years old, the first time he recognizes his soulmates voice.

He pauses at the door of the trailer and squeezes his eyes shut tight. “Hey Stevie.”

“Holy shit, it’s you,” Steve whispers in awe.

It’s the first time they’ve been able to speak to each other like this, responding in real-time. Eddie wishes it could have happened in different circumstances.

“I’m so sorry Steve.” 

“Eddie? What are you doing?” Steve sounds alarmed.

Eddie doesn’t answer. He slams his way out of the barricaded trailer and grabs one of the discarded bikes, hoping to lead the swarm of bats away as far as possible. 

He makes it halfway across the trailer park before one of the bats knocks him off the bike. He grunts and rolls, gaining his feet quickly. Chest heaving, charged with adrenalin – Eddie hesitates. He could keep running… or he could stand his ground and fight. 

Maybe Steve can hear the hitch in his breath in that moment, because the other boy seems to have worked out what’s going on, even from miles away. Steve screams, “No!!! Run Eddie, RUN!!!!”

It’s like the night his dad got arrested. Eddie doesn’t even have time to think - his body reacts to that voice and he runs, worn Reeboks slapping the pavement.

(In another world, Eddie would have turned to face the swarm. In another world, Eddie would have died.)

He’s fast. He’s always been fast. He buys himself a few precious moments, before the bats drag him to the ground. They start to rip through his clothes, through his flesh, and he tries to hold back his screams – he doesn’t want Steve to hear this…

Those extra seconds save his life. It’s bad - but not as bad as it could have been. The bats start to drop from the sky, writhing and shrieking; they’re dying, although Eddie has no idea why. Hopefully, it means Steve and the girls were successful. 

He struggles to sit up just as Dustin reaches him, crying and frantic. “Eddie!! Oh my god, are you okay? Jesus, there’s so much blood…” the kid moans. 

“Yeah, yep. I’m good,” Eddie pants through gritted teeth. “Help me up okay?”

Dustin insists on binding the worst of his wounds first, using strips of fabric torn from the ghillie suit. The pain makes Eddie want to scream all over again, but he allows it. It is an awful lot of blood.

They lean against each other and limp back to the trailer, where Dustin knots t-shirts and jeans and flannel shirts into the remnants of their rope until it’s long enough to reach the other side again. 

Eddie manages to haul himself up the rope and through the gate – and that’s where his strength runs out. The pain of landing on the thin mattress knocks him right out.

———

When Eddie wakes up, he’s in a hospital bed. 

Holy shit I’m alive, he thinks. He honestly wasn’t sure he would make it.

He moves gingerly, testing each limb, turning his head against the stinging pull of a bandage along the edge of his jaw.

The room isn’t empty; Eddie apparently has a roommate. He clears his throat and the person in the other bed stirs, turning to look at him. 

It’s Steve.

His soulmate.

Eddie feels a funny little swoop of exhilaration in his stomach. “Hey Stevie.”

Steve’s face goes soft at first, like he’s experiencing the same fizzy warmth that Eddie is feeling. Then he blinks, and his brows draw down into a scowl. “What the hell was that, huh? What happened to ‘I’m no hero’?”

Oops. 

Eddie tries to make light of the situation. “Maybe I wanted to try it out,” he says flippantly. “Not too sure it suits me though. Think I might stick to being a coward from now on – it’s a lot less painful.” 

Steve doesn’t smile. He fixes Eddie with a serious look, hazel eyes blazing in the sallow light of the hospital room. “You listen to me Eddie Munson. You're not a coward. You're one of the bravest people I've ever known. Running isn't always a bad thing, okay? Sometimes it's just the smart thing to do."

Eddie’s breath catches in his throat. Those words – once a gift from the future, now an echo of the past. He never should have ignored them. “Maybe you’re right.”

Steve’s mouth is already open to continue the argument. “I…” he stops, clearly caught off-guard, face scrunched in adorable confusion. “Yeah. Yeah, I am right.”

Steve runs a faintly trembling hand through his hair. The angry expression melts into something gentler, almost unbearably soft. “I’m glad you listened to me in the end, at least.”

Eddie shifts his weight, pressing his cheek into the scratchy hospital pillow so he can keep his eyes on Steve. 

He’s so beautiful. Even bloody and bruised, with dirt still smudged along his hairline and dark circles under his eyes – he’s the most beautiful boy Eddie has ever seen. And Eddie almost gave this up – if he’d died in the Upside Down, he would have left Steve alone, with only the echo of Eddie’s voice left to haunt him.

“Yeah,” Eddie says hoarsely, “me too.”

He still feels guilty over Chrissy’s death - he probably always will. But he’s coming to realize that proving himself a hero wouldn’t have been worth the pain his death would have caused.

Eddie’s got a second chance… and he plans to make the most of it.