#barbie appreciation month

[peaceeandcoolestvibes]

.

[viennakarma]

Something you paid for

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Two years into the best relationship of your life, you find out that Fernando thinks you don't love him. But it get worse and you realize the whole world think of you as gold digger.

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: female!reader, established relationship, slut shaming, reader is confused, fernando is even more confused, miscommunication, cursing, a bit angsty, hurt/comfort, soft smut (almost not there), happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: I'm honestly not 100% sure about this story, a had another ending planned but I wanted it to be HEA. I don't know. :(

I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

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It was supposed to be just a pause in your studies. Something quick since your brain was already mushy from studying and writing your research for too long.

So when you picked up your phone, to aimlessly scroll through social media, you didn’t expect to see a new, sudden rush of comments on your instagram page. There were thousands of comments in your last post, calling you a gold digger, and much, much worse. Ever since you started dating Fernando, you had been getting these comments, and in the beginning they were worse but slowed down with time. Now they were on a new high again. Confused more than anything, you went on to try and find out what happened for this to happen all of a sudden. You and Fernando hadn’t gone out together for more than two weeks and you hadn’t been to a race week for a month.

After digging you eventually found out what happened. Deuxmoi posted something that made everyone quickly think it was you.

A lady who’s 12 years younger than her famous Spanish Formula One driver boyfriend, is known for being with him for his money. Many tried to warn him, but it seems like he doesn’t believe or doesn’t care.

Confused, you stared at the post, scrolling through hundreds of nasty, poisonous comments. That wasn’t true. Fernando did give you lots of presents and spoiled you a lot but he did this out of his own want, not because you asked for or demanded it. He was constantly giving you things, especially clothes, shoes and bags, and loved seeing you wearing them. He also gave you an Aston Martin car on your last birthday. He even went as far as getting you a credit card attached to his, for whenever you needed to buy books or go on a shopping spree. You never minded it because you knew he liked it, instead of refusing you were just grateful for his generosity.

You wondered if you should talk about it with him, but deep down you knew Fernando was never one to care for gossip of any kind. And this probably wasn’t even true to begin with, just someone trying to stir the pot. So you just limited the comments in your posts and went on about your day.

A week later you went to the race, it was Silverstone, and the last before summer break. You decided to dress your best, wearing clothes that were pretty and elegant and had been given to you by Fernando.

He always treated you like a princess, he was kind and patient, and always found a way to align your schedules to spend time together. He liked taking you on trips during summer break and to ski trips during winter break. Fernando adored having you around in race weeks, you could see in his face that he was radiant with your presence. And you loved all the gifts and the trips but you especially loved staying home with him, lazing around, making love on the sofa and taking walks hand in hand in his hometown. You loved helping him cook, trying your best to follow his orders and not mess up his recipes. 

You walked into the paddock hand in hand, and you kept him company whenever you could. He would keep you around the most, only letting you go when he had meetings or media duties. During that time, you would go back to his room and do a little more of your research, writing your thesis.

You left his room so you could grab a snack and a coffee at the hospitality, but as you passed by a hallway, you heard someone saying your name in conversation. You stopped, leaning against the wall to hear, with a glance, you saw two mechanics talking.

“Seems like everyone tried to warn him, man. But it’s like he doesn’t mind dating a gold digger.”

“Is she a gold digger, really?”

“Man, she doesn’t do anything! She doesn't even work.”

“Has anyone warned Fernando?”

“Everyone.”

You went back inside his driver’s room, sitting down, completely shocked. So that’s what people thought of you? You knew people on the internet talked about it, but they were strangers so you wouldn’t allow yourself to mind because those people didn’t know you. But the people in the garage? They’ve known you for almost two years now, you were always kind and polite to them, even going as far as bringing them cookies and donuts as thank you for welcoming you so well.

You avoided crying, it would ruin your makeup, and Fernando would notice it very quickly. So you just sat there, numb. Thinking about how everyone believed you were with Fernando because of his money and nothing else.

When Fernando found you again, before he had to go get ready for the race, he noticed you were a little down.

“You should not study so hard on the weekends, princesa.” He muttered, hugging you from behind and leaving a gentle kiss to your neck. Of course, he would think you were just tired.

“You are absolutely right, mi amor,” you smiled a little, turning around so you could hug him properly, “do you have time for a little kiss?”

“Even two,” he joked.

You ended up sitting on his lap, making out like two teenagers, until someone knocked on the door, calling Fernando to go get ready.

“Hey, good luck, yeah?” You said, kissing him one more time then kissing the back of his hand, “I love you.”

You watched the race from the garage, feeling self conscious now that it seemed like everyone thought you were leeching off of Fernando.

In the end, Fernando got P3 which was a great result and you celebrated wildly, proudly watching him get on the podium.

After his post race meetings, you met him in his room.

“Let’s go out to celebrate! Dinner is on me!” You hugged him, mood better now than before.

You and him ended up going out for dinner, at a high end restaurant, dressed to the nines. It was fun, you listened to Fernando talking about the race, then he asked you what you thought about the race.

Before dessert, you went into the bathroom to retouch your makeup and freshen up. When you came back, your tiramisu was already there. You and Fernando shared the dessert, laughing to each other.

When the waitress came, you picked the opportunity.

“Dear, can we get the tab please?”

“It’s already taken care of, Madam.”

Your smile faltered, and you looked at Fernando as she left. He was smiling like he couldn’t hold it in.

“Fernando! I said dinner was on me!”

“Why would I let you pay, princesa?”

“Because you got a podium today! As a celebration!” You whined, upset. Fernando pulled your chair, until you were right beside him and he kissed your cheek.

“I like paying for you, Hermosa,” Fernando stood up, offering you a hand, “come on, you can treat me right in our hotel room, what about that?”

You smiled as he pulled you away, but something still nagged at your brain.

You and Fernando took the private plane back to Madrid after the date, because he had sponsor meetings over the week, and you honestly wanted to sleep in your bed. The trip was quick, and while Fernando took a nap, you tried studying, but your mind kept going back to being called a gold digger.

Deep down, you really wanted to talk to Fernando about it, but you were unsure if he could fix this in any way. What could he do? Make a post on instagram saying hey, my girlfriend isn’t leeching off of me as most you think!? You did live with Fernando, for six months now, and he paid all the bills and the house was his. But he also gave you many many gifts.

When you got home, putting your bags inside the closet, you two just changed into sleepwear, ready to doze off.

Then Fernando opened his bag and grabbed a small box.

“Oh, I had forgotten! Got you a present last week in Austria!”

He handed you the box, and with your heart beating fast, you opened it to a beautiful vintage watch. It was gold, delicate with a beautiful bracelet. There was a lump in your throat as you stared at the piece.

“You didn’t like it? It’s ok, princesa, I’ll get you another one,” he said, with a gentle smile.

“I don’t need another watch, Nando. You gave me this one not even a month ago,” you raised your wrist, showing him the brand new one he gave you.

“I want to give it to you. It doesn’t matter,” he shrugged.

“And I don’t want it,” god, you didn’t want to sound so ungrateful, but how could you tell him that his presents felt like something else now? “You have to stop giving me so many presents,” you said, trying to put into words what you were feeling.

“But that’s how I won you over, why would you refuse my presents now?”

Something about the nonchalance in his voice made you stop, stomach dropping. That’s how I won you over? That’s how he believed your relationship came to be? That’s why he thought you were together?

“What did you say?” You paused, suddenly turning to him, it felt like a punch to the throat, “You- you believe I’m a gold digger? You believe it?”

Fernando walked up to you, putting both hands on your waist, a soft smile gracing his face.

“Amor, you know I don’t mind spending my money on you. Quite the opposite, I love to spoil you.”

You stood there, speechless for a couple of seconds. Then you snapped out of it, pushing his hands off you.

“That’s not what I asked!” Your voice sounded louder, you tried to regain your composure, “people talk a lot, the press too, but you know the truth, right?!”

“I’m a rich man, I like providing you with the luxurious lifestyle you lead. I don’t care that you enjoy my money.”

His words made it so much worse. It made you nauseous, the idea that all this time, he’s been thinking of you as a gold digger, as someone who’s only with him for his money and for what he could provide for you.

“No, Fernando- no!” Your voice wavered, “that’s not true! I love you, you know that right?”

“Why are you so caught up in some silly rumor?

“You know right? You know I love you.” You pressed further waiting for an answer. Hoping against hope that he knew it deep down, that he could acknowledge that you harbored love for him.

“Amor, we have such a great dynamic like this. I don’t need your love, just your loyalty and for you to be my pretty girl.”

He was so calm and reassuring, like he had made peace with the fact that you didn’t love him. Like he wasn’t bothered at all by the fact that you were supposedly a gold digger. His dismissal broke something inside you.

“So you don’t- you don’t believe I love you?”

You felt pathetic and helpless, repeating the same words again and again, hoping and praying for a different answer from Fernando.

“Come on, I’m really tired, can we go to sleep?

“Fernando.”

“I’m going to wait for you in bed,” was all he said, dismissing you completely.

You walked out of the room at the same time he went into the bathroom, you held your head up until you softly closed the door behind you, then finally the tears spilled. You went to the bathroom downstairs, the farthest you could go away from him as the sobs broke from your throat violently.

Sliding down on the floor you wondered if everything was lie. You knew it wasn’t but the fact that he thought you were only there for the money was completely wrong. How long had he been thinking that? How many times had he heard you say “I love you” and thought it wasn’t true? You didn’t even know what to do or what to feel. How could you feel if this whole time while you were pouring your heart into this relationship he thought you were just leeching off of him? How can you love someone so deeply and still live with the fact they think of you as a freeloader? Did he joke with his friends like yeah, she’s a gold digger but at least she’s loyal and fucks me well? 

Your chest hurt and you felt repulsive, making your way to the living room, opening a bottle of his whiskey, not bothering with a glass, just sipping it straight from the bottle.

What could you do now? Talk to him? Tell him you’re not with him for his money? After two whole years accepting his every gift with open arms? After getting a fortune worth of presents? After letting him pay for your books, textbooks, new laptop? After letting him pay for dates, trips, clothes, accessories, shoes and jewelry?

You hated yourself for it now. For taking it just because you thought it was his love language, not because deep down he was trying to keep you, buying your affection.

After spending the whole night awake, nursing a bottle and with only your repulsive thoughts as company, you watched as the sun rose from the big living room window.

It was time to fix it.

Fernando was an early riser almost every morning, so after the sun fully rose in the sky, you went in the kitchen and prepared coffee, to cut the effect of the alcohol. You weren’t drunk, really.

“Morning, bebé! You woke up earlier than me today?” He said, passing you with a kiss to your cheek, then going to the cabinet for a mug. He was so unbothered by your argument last night it was pissing you off.

“I didn’t sleep.”

He paused, looking at your face.

“We should talk.” You readied yourself. Fernando stopped in front of you, attentive. “I’ve been hearing a lot this past week that I’m a gold digger, this has been making me feel some kind of way, and I wanted to address this with you. Last night you were tired and we probably misunderstood each other…”

“Where are you going with this, corazón?” He asked, confused.

“I’m not with you for your money, Fernando. Do you understand that?”

He stood silent, which only made you feel worse.

“I want you to stop giving me presents without a proper occasion. And I want you to stop paying stuff for me. And we’re going to share house bills.” You laid it all out, after thinking hard all throughout the night.

“What are you talking about? No, I don’t accept it.” He frowned, “that wasn’t the deal when we moved in together.”

“Because I didn’t know everything back then. I don’t want to feel like I’m taking advantage of you, and I don’t live at your cost like this.”

“No, Y/N.” He took a step back, shaking his head as if you had said the most stupid thing he had ever heard.

“I’m serious, Fernando.”

“No, I’m not negotiating this. I pay for everything. That’s how it’s been and that’s how it will be.”

“I just want to show you that I’m not with you for the money! I’m not what they’re calling me! No more presents, Fernando.”

“You took them.”

“Because I thought you wanted me to have them!”

“I wanted you to have them so you would want to stay with me!”

You gasped, hearing it from his mouth finally. The tears finally started flowing, and you swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady even with the tempest happening inside your chest, staining the beautiful story of your relationship. Well, what you thought was a beautiful relationship.

“You’re just like them, right?” You said, defeated, “you think of me as a gold digging whore. You probably never defended me when they called me that.”

“I gave you all this stuff because I didn’t want you to leave!”

“It was never about the fucking money! And guess what? You lost me anyway!” You marched to the bedroom, Fernando hot on your heels.

“Don’t. Don’t leave.” He said, following you. “I did everything for you to never leave!”

“Everything but loving me! I don’t fucking care!” You unlatched your necklace, putting it on the table, “I don’t care about your money and the jewelry and the clothes and the bags!” You put down your watch and earrings too. Everything he had given you not because he wanted you or loved you, but because he thought they were the price to pay to keep you around.

“Fuck, I love you!” You shouted, feeling desperate and lost, “And all you see me as is something you paid for. A toy you can parade around and look pretty in your arm! You don’t even love me, Fernando. I could write a list about everything I love about you, and none of it would be your stupid money!”

In the closet, you picked a bag, and started putting your clothes inside. Then you noticed how most of them were gifts from him. So you put it back, taking only what you had bought yourself. Fernando stood there, helpless as you packed, putting clothes and a few shoes in a couple of baggage. You also took your study material and laptop, which he had gifted you, but you knew you’d refund him.

“Stop, no,” Fernando tried to stop you as went into the garage, “I do, I love you.”

“You don’t, Fernando. You’re not even sure of that.” You shook your head, putting the bags inside the car. The Aston Martin he had given you, “you have to think. If you really love me as you say, then why do you love me? Because I’m eye candy you can take to galas? Because I’m a good fuck? Because I stand there and look pretty when you have to kiss those old men’s asses?”

You didn’t give him a second, getting in the car and starting the engine.

“This is so messed up, oh my god, how could I let myself believe this for two entire years?” You whispered to yourself, accelerating the car and driving off. 

Through the rear view, you could see Fernando standing there, doing nothing.

You drove and wiped the tears away, breathing in. When you moved in with Fernando, you hadn’t been able to get out of the lease of your flat because you still had a few months on your renting contract. Now it felt like luck that you had a place to stay. Despite getting your doctorate degree, you didn’t have any friends in the city, only a few acquaintances here and there.

You got to the apartament, not bothering to unpack your bags, only leaving it on the bedroom floor. You took your study material and with your phone in hand, you sent Fernando via transfer a total 4000 euros, for what you hoped covered the “laptop and books expenses” as you wrote in the little note.

Then you laid on the bed, crying yourself to sleep.

You woke up and it was getting dark, the sun setting outside. Checking your phone, there were fourteen missed calls from Fernando, and a notification, showing that he had returned the money to you, with additional 30000 euros and only “no” written on the little note. Huffing, you sent the whole amount back and blocked him, so he couldn’t transfer any more money to you.

He still had not realized what was wrong, he was still thinking money was your motivation.

The next few days felt like a haze, you were barely getting any sleep, only eating and writing your research, which ultimately reminded you of Fernando, since it was a study on aerodynamics. You couldn’t lie to yourself, thinking of how many times you stared at the door, waiting and hoping he would understand and come after you.

-

Fernando had work commitments in England, and going back to Madrid, he ended up giving George and his girlfriend a lift. Fernando was visibly not himself as soon as George saw him.

“How’s Y/N doing?” George asked, casually. But from the way Fernando’s face dropped, he could tell something was wrong, “trouble with the missus?” He joked, tried to lighten the mood.

“She- uh, she left.” Fernando muttered.

“What do you mean, she left?” Carmen joined the conversation, “She’s traveling?”

“No- no- I guess we broke up.”

“You guess?!” George’s voice went a little high pitched out of nervousness.

“Fernando, what happened?” Carmen tried to understand. 

Despite not being exactly best friends, you and her were pretty close, always spending time together whenever both of you were on race weekends. The fact that you’re both engaged academics was also a common topic between you.

“You know about the rumors, right?” Fernando started, hesitating.

“What rumors?” George paused.

“That she’s only with me for the money,” Fernando muttered.

“All girlfriends of drivers are accused of that at some point, what’s new?” George pushed.

“I might have implied that I agree with that.”

“Oh, my god,” Carmen covered her mouth, absolutely shocked, “What?”

“Fernando, respectfully- Are you fucking insane?!” George exclaimed, jaw slack, “she looks at you all lovey-dovey, like- like- you’re the only person in the entire earth and you think she’s with you for the money?”

“She would never be like that! She’s so smart and kind,” Carmen added.

“I know- I just- I don’t know! Maybe I let the rumors get to my head!” he ran both hands over his face, exasperated, “And she always lets me pay, and she always takes the presents, I don’t know!”

Then, Fernando explained about how you tried to pay for dinner, and you refused his gift, he told them about the argument and how you wanted to set boundaries about money and gifts.

“She was trying to prove to you that she’s not a freeloader. She was trying to show that the money didn’t matter, and what did you do? You pushed more money on her!” George practically spat the words in Fernando’s face.

“Eres muy estúpido, Fernando. Te lo digo como tu amiga.” Carmen muttered.

“I don’t know what she said but I heard the word stupid, and I agree.” George backed her up, “Go talk to her, apologize and fix it.”

“That is,” Carmen interrupted, face serious, “If you really love her. Otherwise, better let her go find someone who can really love her, it’s what she deserves. Love and happiness.”

Fernando swallowed, his chest constricting with the mere thought of you moving on, of someone else having you in their arms.

Getting back home without you there felt like a thick fog day, cold and empty and he missed you, he missed his sun. He missed you jumping into his arms as soon as he opened the door. He missed the smell of the candles you always lit while studying. He even missed the little mess of textbooks, colorful highlighters and notes scattered around.

Home didn’t feel like home without you.

In the middle of the living room, there were big cardboard boxes, as he opened, he noticed they were full of clothes, shoes and bags he had gifted you throughout your relationship. In a smaller box, all the jewelry he had given you, even anniversary gifts. Even the beauty products he had given you like perfumes, makeup products, and face creams.

You had returned every single thing.

And on the coffee table, your keys to the house and the keys of your Aston Martin DB12.

It seemed like you had returned everything that could tie you to him, everything that made him wrongly call you a gold digger. And it felt painfully like a goodbye.

-

While mixing your homemade coffee, your eyes flicked to the door, then to your phone on the table, facing up. Despite the searing pain in your chest, and the sorrowful hole in your heart, maybe it was time to start to move on. It had been more than a week, if he wanted to come back to you, he would’ve come by now.

You got ready to meet with your advisor, and she brought up a topic that had been common now, about you taking a position as a professor for a couple of Engineering subjects. She said it’d be good for you to work in your area while on the last few months before getting your doctorate degree. You had mostly denied the other times she offered the position, because you wanted more time with Fernando, because you wanted the freedom to fly around the world following him to his races.

Now- now you had more bills to pay and no boyfriend to follow. You also had more free time, a broken heart and a vacant mind. 

“I’m considering the position. I believe it could do me good right now.” You said to her, thoughtful, “can I confirm with you tomorrow?”

After going through the meeting and getting a review on your thesis, you went back to your flat, taking a long shower. You had just dressed in pajamas when the doorbell rang. With long strides, you were faced with Carmen, and not Fernando as you expected.

“From your face I take it he hasn’t spoken to you, yes?” Carmen muttered, seeing the visible disappointment in your face.

“I’m sorry, please come in,” you opened the door wider, forcing a smile. Carmen had a couple of bags that she set on a nearby table.

“He told us what happened, I’m so sorry,” Carmen hugged you and you immediately started crying, since you had no one to talk about the past few days, “I brought chocolates and wine, so we can talk.”

Over chocolates and a bottle of Merlot, you told her everything, starting at the deuxmoi rumor. She looked horrified when you said word for word what had transpired the last time you spoke with him.

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t come talk to you yet,” Carmen added, at some point.

“Because he won’t, at all.” You say with your voice shaky from crying so much the past hour.

“Don’t say that. He loves you.” Carmen said.

“I’m not entirely sure about that,” you shrugged, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did, “He’ll find another one, someone who can enjoy his money since it seems like it’s all that matters to him.”

Carmen didn’t say anything to that and you knew she couldn’t argue with the facts. Later, George dropped by to get her, going up to your flat so he could hug you quickly and mutter “I’m sorry”.

With a heavy heart, you slowly rebuild a healthy routine again, doing grocery shopping, cooking meals, going to the gym, studying and everything.

One day, you went back home after going on a shopping spree, and as you got into the hall, Fernando was there, standing in your hall, waiting by the door. You stopped, almost losing the timing to leave the elevator. When you walked closer, he noticed you. Meeting his eyes was different this time, uncertain and a little distant.

“What do you want?” You asked, you hoped your voice would come out harsh, but it only sounded defeated.

“Can we talk?” He asked, and you nodded, opening the door and letting him in.

There was a moment of awkward silence as you put the shopping bags down. After doing that, you crossed your arms and stood against a side table, waiting quietly.

“I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, for not fully believing your love, I guess I was so focused in protecting myself, that I ended up hurting you, and it was never my intention,” Fernando stood just two steps away from you, his eyes holding such pain and fear, that it made you crumble, he didn’t look like he’d been sleeping well, “I love you, I really do. For who you are and nothing else.”

You wanted to give in so bad, you wanted to run into his arms and never let go, but you also didn’t want to suffer again.

“How do you know? You never knew that for two years, how would you know it now?” You shook your head, tears starting to fill your eyes again.

“Because it is hard being without you,” he said, like he was trying to find the right words, “I can’t sleep without you. My life is miserable without you around.”

You only nodded, covering your lips with a hand. You wanted to tell him that you had not gotten proper sleep without him, that your life feels empty, that not knowing about him everyday was painful. But you needed more. You needed something you could hold onto, and maybe, just maybe take another chance at the two of you.

“I- I made a list. Like you said,” his voice failed, and you noticed his hand was shaking a little as he held the paper, “I love you. I love coming home to you every time and feel our house so lived in. I love how you always hug me first thing after I’m back home. I love the silly texts you send me randomly throughout the day talking about your day. I love the selfies with your tongue out too,” that made you two chuckle, and the movement made your tears fall, so you wiped them, staring at him intently, “I love that you’re always the smartest person in any room we’re in. I love that you’re humble, never showing off or being a smartass. I love how cheeky and witty you are. I love that you talk in your sleep. I love that scar in your knee, because it shows you were always a little naughty, even as a kid. I love that there’s always fresh flowers at home. I love that you love kids. I love that you get along well with my family. I love that you-”

He didn’t finish, as you closed the distance and launched yourself at him, hugging him tight. Fernando held you close, pressing you into him, inhaling your perfume, feeling like he was at home again.

“I’m so sorry, princesa. So so sorry. I missed you so much,” he whispered against your cheek, kissing it softly.

“I missed you too, Nando” you said, eyes closed and allowing yourself to just feel him again, “I love you so much.”

You let go, holding his face with both hands, looking into his eyes before kissing him softly. He, on the other hand, held the back of your neck firmly, licking your mouth open, until he had tasted your mouth, leaving you breathless.

“Come back home with me, princesa.”

At that, you took a step back.

“I- I can’t, Nando. I got a new job at the university.”

“What?”

“I thought you weren’t coming back to me,” you muttered, and your words made him wince, “I needed something to hold on to.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he ran a hand over his face, looking embarrassed for taking so long to come after you.

“I believe we should- we should take a step back, rethink a bit about our dynamic,” you told him, hesitant of his reaction.

“Are you unsure about us?” He asked, visibly worried.

“No, no- I love you- I do-” You started, taking his hand, holding it firmly against yours, “I just think we should rewind a bit. Have my own place and pay my own bills, I just don’t want to feel like that again, I need to regain my dignity in this.”

He kept quiet, because he knew deep down you were right. He felt awful about all the misunderstandings, but he knew you probably felt much, much worse. He should just get on his knees and be thankful you still loved him and still wanted him. He’d take all your conditions to get back with him.

And deep down both of you knew it was for the best. Moving out and living alone, working and seeing him occasionally as a boyfriend. 

Holding your face, he kissed you, leaving little pecks on your lips, your cheeks, your chin, your forehead. You closed your eyes, letting him kiss you, and he muttered how much loved you and how much he missed you, kissing down the side of your neck. He walked you inside and let him, feeling his hands quickly peeling your clothes off, leaving a trail of clothes from the living room to your bedroom.

You parted so you could undress him, pulling at his jacket and the t-shirt.

“I love you, I love you so much,” he mumbled into a kiss, laying you down in bed.

You laid on the bed and he hugged him, making space for him between your legs. He held you, touching your nose with his gently.

“I missed you, princesa,” he kissed your cheek, “I promise I’ll do better from now on.”

“I know you will, baby.” You kissed him again, running your hand down his back, “make love to me now.”

He filled you up at once, and you groaned into his mouth, scratching your nails down his back as you cunt welcomed him. As he fucked into you, slowly at first then picking up pace, he muttered how much he loved you and how sorry he was, over and over.

As you cuddled after, quietly enjoying each other’s company. 

“What do we do about all your gifts?”

“Give them away,” you shrugged.

“Can I convince you to take it back?”

“Not if you still want me in your life,” you muttered. He nodded, placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder.

“You know how I know I love you?” Fernando asked, drawing invisible patterns on your back, “there’s an engagement ring in the third drawer of my bedside table.”

You hesitated for a second, but he knew you well. Better than anyone else.

“I know what you said, I just wanted to let you know. I bought it a week after you moved in with me. I know we’re rewinding a little bit for now, but you’ll be my wife one day.”

“And what if I refuse when you propose?” You smirked, and he pulled your leg over his waist.

“You won’t.”

Note: UGH IDK GUYS :(

[poebot]

modern!ellie gf headcannons (shes so silly)

-i think the tips of her ears would turn bright red when she’s nervous or shy. the first time you kiss her she lets out this breathy little chuckle and just stares at you, lips parted and ears flushed

-everyone hc’s her as a suave flirt (even i’ve fallen victim to the propaganda) but if we’re being realistic she has absolutely no game until you’re actually official and the nervousness has lessened. like if you were to flirt with her within the first month of dating she’d get all fidgety and smiley, hiding her face in your neck and telling you to shut up. she sucks at accepting compliments so she shows you her appreciation with a gentle press of her lips against yours

-you know that one scene from the barbie movie. with the ken’s playing the guitar. that’s literally ellie. whenever she learns a new losercore song she begs you to facetime or watch her play it in person. i imagine her getting so genuinely mad when she messes up infront of you, letting out annoyed ‘fuck’s, embarrassed that she screwed up in front of her girl

-had a skating phase. she sucked at it and would fall and bust her hands and knees constantly, finally admitted defeat after like a month. now it just sits collecting dust in her room

-1000% eats like a toddler. she cannot cook to save her life and relies solely on sandwiches, takeout and ramen when you’re not around to serve something home made

-i don’t think she’d be very big on social media, like would rarely post her face, just artsy pictures of things she finds cool filling up her instagram feed. but she’d 100% post the dumbest memes onto her close friends story (think my girl is mad at me i hope i die) and is the first one to comment out of pocket shit on your posts

-everytime you bend over shes rushing to fake hump you from behind. she thinks she’s soo funny and does it literally every time. snickers to herself when you swat her away from you

okay thats all thanks for coming to my ted talk :)

[em-dash-press]

Ways to Skip Time In Your Stories

Finding ways to skip time in stories can feel challenging. Writers often worry it’ll make their work feel too amateur or negatively affect their pacing. 

The truth is that every author includes ways they skip time to maintain their pacing and plot. Check out a few ways to do it with confidence. 

1. Start a New Chapter

Yes, it’s really that simple. Go back to your favorite books and note how each chapter ends. You’ll likely find a few of these tricks that transition the story in ways that match the story’s flow.

Ideas to End a Chapter

The protagonist goes to sleep (likely overused, but practical)

The characters end a conversation

One character informs another of a plot twist

Unexpected action occurs, like a car crash

2. Emphasize the Season

You don’t need to tell the reader exact dates or hours to pass the time. You could mention the season instead.

If a scene or chapter ends in the summer and you need your plot to start in winter, make your protagonist mention something about the leaves changing color and giving way to snow before your action picks up again. It will only take a sentence or two, so it’s also an effective method for short stories.

3. Visualize a Movie Montage

Imagine watching a movie about a character who goes on a summer adventure. They backpack through Europe, but they have to take a flight to get there. 

You likely wouldn’t see them standing in airport security lines, napping in a terminal or watching a full movie on their flight to their destination. Instead, you’d get a montage of them driving to the airport with a shot of their plane cruising over the open ocean.

Writers can do the same thing, minus the soundtrack in the background. Describe how your character got to their destination when a new chapter or scene starts. Your readers will get the general idea and appreciate getting straight to the plot that made them pick up your story in the first place.

Here are a few ideas to do this in just a few sentences:

One delayed flight and a bad airplane dinner later, I was walking out of the Amsterdam-Schiphol Airport with an aching back and excited heart.

My trip began with the perfect flight. I got an entire row of seats to myself, which made napping through the trip much easier. A flight attendant roused me awake when it was time to land. I couldn’t believe how fast I’d arrived in Athens that quickly.

My flight was just long enough to catch up on the movies I’d been missing over the last year. The landing gear bounced along the runway in Rome just as the Barbie credits started flashing across my iPad.

4. Showcase Some Confusion

Sometimes we aren’t aware of what time it is. We only know time has passed. That might be the best way to make time pass in your story if your protagonist gets confused, caught by surprise, or otherwise discombobulated.

These are some examples:

I woke up with a bad taste in my mouth. The sun was already peaking in the clear blue sky. How long had it been since my explosive video call with my ex the night before?

The time machine landed with a thud that knocked me to the ground. The control panel exploded in shimmering sparks. What year was it?

Working a double shift always left my brain spinning. I left work, walking across the parking lot with only the stars watching my back. I could feel the hours aching in my feet, but didn’t care what time it really was. I just needed to sleep.

5. Employ a Phrase

There are many quick phrases you can use to make your time jumps immediately clear. Consider using a few of these when you feel creatively stuck:

Later that morning

A few weeks later

After months of trying

Six hours later

The following week

As the store closed for the night

-----

There are many other ways to make time pass in a story. Starting with these could help you figure out the best way to move your story forward without disrupting its pacing. 

Remember, you’re in control of your story at all times. There’s always a way through creative challenges if you take a deep breath and try something new.

[pinkmirth]

nfl reiner braun tears his alc and requests the best surgeon to work on it. he gets, youuuu, sweet smelling pink doctor coat wearing you and he can’t even take you serious when you’re going over his chart or requesting to feel the muscle with those pink gloves on. you even look younger than him and he’s telling you: “darlin’, listen… im a big deal around here and i need someone to help fix me not give me a boner.” or something like that and you almost don’t have the heart to tell him that you’re the best that there’s ever been at this hospital.

RECOVERY, reiner braun !

୨୧ — pairing: footballer!reiner braun x fem!reader

୨୧ — synopsis: this doctor’s got a hardheaded patient! it’ll take some effort to convince him of your effectiveness . . .

୨୧ — contains: ( 1.4k words of . . . ) modern au, slight nsfw (more like suggestive!), footballer!reiner, surgeon!reader, fem!reader (black coded), reiner has an ACL tear, reiner’s touch-deprived/sexually frustrated, rei’s kindaaa conceited (just a little bit!), palming, minors shoo!

୨୧ — mira’s note: ramona, my love! i adore all your reiner concepts, they’re always sooo perfect 🎀 thank youuu for sharing your rei-rei thoughts with me :) now here’s a lil drabble for my gorgeous man! (not really proofread thoroughly, i apologize for any typos or mistakes!)

isopropyl.

it’s all that reiner can smell. he’s a healthy man, he hardly belongs here— in this chilled surgeon office with the most pale, unflattering lighting. the parchment-like exam table paper rustles beneath him with every stretch and maneuver he makes, and his weight is enough to pry a creak out of the treatment table every now and again.

a recurring clack of footsteps and the whine of the door lets reiner know that you, the ‘sexy doctor lady from earlier’ has returned from reading his screenings. he wasn’t able to catch your name amidst the splitting pain from his acl tear, so that’ll make do in the meantime.

you set down your clipboard and turn to face him. your dear patient appears a bit mussed from the big game that took place earlier— his golden hair’s all fluffy and wild, that red football uniform of his is streaked with the green of the field, and his left cheekbone got a little scratch somehow. you’ll make sure to dab that with rubbing alcohol later.

“your vitals are well above average.” you commend. his reply’s a mere grunt. he can’t bring himself to take you seriously. just fucking look at you; pink latex gloves pulled over manicured hands, welcoming eyes all doe and shiny, with a sweet glossed smile that he won’t forget for days to come. he hates having to meet such a beauty under these grim circumstances– after all, you’re the kind of woman he’d take out on a date.

“lucky for you, mister braun, your injury isn’t a complete tear . . . so your recovery time shouldn’t be too long. it’ll last about six months, give or take.”

he isn’t listening.

reiner isn’t even sure of when he began to space out; your lips are just so plush, so alluring. his surname sounds sweeter than it should when falling from your mouth. before long, you clear your throat. it’s enough to snap him out of it. “i’d appreciate your undivided attention, sir. we’re currently going over your healing plan— ”

“lemme ask you, sugar,” he interjects with a low rasp. reiner braun’s well known around these parts, and you can only assume that being such a big deal has gotten to his head. what he says next throws you off, “when’s the real doctor comin’ in, hm?” it’s hard to remain professional, but you do. no furrowed brows, no scrunched up face— nothing but a tight, forced smile.

you suck in a breath through your nose, maintaining composure. “what makes you think it isn’t me, mister braun?” he can hear the tinge of vexation in your voice. clearly, this footballer has struck a chord or two.

“you’ve got pink gloves on, barbie.” he snarks out a laugh, just a bit mean. he’s much too handsome for such a condescending tone.

you bring a gloved hand flat to his chest, pushing reiner back into the examination table. his breath catches in his throat when you knead your fingers into his thigh, right where the tear resides beneath firm muscle. you’re assertive, and goddamn, does he love it.

“i’m your doctor.” you assure, voice firm. he groans out at the calculated pressure; it feels good. makes the throb of pain fade, just a bit.

“you’ll have to put some faith in me, hm?” your tone is warm, words soft and patient in a way he doesn’t deserve. reiner can’t lie, it was crass of him to have undermined you that way.

“my apologies, doc.” he addresses you in the rightest way he can. it’s his tiny little way of making amends.

“so, how long— fuck, how long did ‘ya study for?” reiner tries for small talk, voice low and shaken. you’d like to believe that whatever left his lips just now wasn’t a moan. no, it was more like . . . a groan of pain, perhaps?

“about six years. graduated early,” no wonder you look just about his age, if not younger. all his previous doctors were just as old as his parents.

“smart and pretty, huh?” he graces you with a feeble grin, a white gleam of teeth surrounded by neatly trimmed stubble. it’s safe to say that he’s your hottest patient up to date.

you continue on with prodding into the thick meat of his left thigh, and those throaty whines of his make you feel a way you simply shouldn’t.

it’s been a while since reiner’s been touched this way. he knows it’s just a regular inspection for his stupid injury, but he can’t recall the last time a woman’s splayed their hands on his body. he’s always busy with football this, training that. there’s never any time remaining for hook-ups, talkless of a relationship. that being said, it isn’t long before he begins to grow excited.

“m— mister braun,” you call out, voice airy, “you seem a little, um . . . worked up.”

“huh?” his eyes flit up to meet yours. you lock onto his honey-brown pools of desperation.

nothing else is uttered. you wordlessly direct your gaze towards his crotch, and give him a knowing look. reiner finally catches on— he fucking knew he felt his bottoms getting tight. hesitantly, the blonde lifts his head to peer down at his pants. surely enough, a boner’s prodding at the centering cloth of his football shorts.

“goddamn,” he drops his head back onto the examination table, bashfully throwing his forearm over his eyes. humiliation eats at the proud man, reducing him to a jumble of hormones.

you can hardly bring yourself to contain your chuckle, which makes his reddened cheeks burn further. it seems that his bodily reaction to your skilled hands has given him a sense of humility at best, and embarrassment at worst.

“i’ve never been appointed to a lady before . . .” is his hushed excuse. he’s still got his eyes shielded with his arm— he can’t even fucking bear to look at you. it’ll only spur him on further.

‘i turn you on?’ is what you’re just longing to question him. you know that you do— he’s been looking at your lips with bated breath since he got here. not to mention the peeks he’d taken at your ass whenever you turned around to read his chart or grab a cotton ball.

it’s quite bold of you— more like dangerous— to bring your ministrations upwards, closer to the ache under his pants. you’d tell yourself to stay on task, but professionalism has long been thrown out the window.

your gloved hands trail mischievously, placed directly atop reiner’s hard-on. warmth radiates from your palm, and you squeeze. his eyes blink shut, hips gently bucking upwards. his tear burns from beneath his skin, but he doesn’t fucking care. he bets he could cum from your hands alone.

reiner eventually manages to pull his arm away from blocking his viewpoint, chest heaving with every passing second. if you were to use your stethoscope on him, his heartbeat would be nothing short of erratic.

“trust me, mister braun,” is your reassuring whisper, “you’re in good hands.”

[munson-blurbs]

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13

Summary: A disastrous PTA meeting and an unfortunate grocery store encounter have you and Eddie questioning whether or not you deserve each other.

Warnings: a bit of dirty talk (18+ just in case), feelings of unworthiness, Carol Perkins and Billy Hargrove make appearances, mentions of bullying, small allusion to drug use and poverty, arrest, tiny allusion to Eddie's breeding kink

WC: 7.1k

Chapter 13/20

Divider credit to @saradika Special thanks to @girlwiththerubyslippers & @corroded-hellfire for helping with this chapter!

Your Thursday mornings at Hawkins Preschool usually involve a light tap on the door and a blink-and-you-missed-it wave from Eddie; maybe a wink if no one’s looking. Today, he’s stopped by the classroom with a steaming styrofoam cup in hand.

“I thought you only brought me coffee on Mondays,” you laugh appreciatively. You take the still-hot beverage from him, folding back the plastic tab and blowing on it lightly before taking a sip. It’s made just as you like it and warms you from the inside out.

Eddie smiles, crossing his arms over his chest an leaning in closer so his leather-clad shoulder grazes sweater-covered one. “Ah, but the PTA meeting is after school today.” As if you could forget forty minutes of unpaid work that could be spent reading, resting, snuggling up to your thoughtful metalhead boyfriend… “Figured you could use an extra boost of caffeine to help you power through.” He lowers his voice to add, “I’m sorry I won’t be able to make it. But Wayne’ll be there.” He squeezes your hand quickly just as Abby Carver approaches you. 

You pull away so fast that you bang your elbow against the side of the desk, biting the inside of your cheek to suppress a yelp. “What can I do for ya, Abby?” you ask, smiling through the throbbing pain.

“Joshua said that he’s taller than me!” she whines, messily swiping at her ruddy tear-stained cheeks. Her dad only dropped her off five minutes ago, and she’s already conjured up a crisis. Unsurprising, but exasperating nonetheless.

You peer over at Joshua Harrington, who is currently constructing a racetrack, unbothered by Abby’s distressed state. Your gaze flits back over to the little girl in front of you. “Honey, he is taller than you,” you gently explain, watching as her bright blue eyes begin to well up again.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t havta say it!” she protests, stamping her sneaker on the speckled tile floor. It’s one that lights up, little red and blue and green twinkles dashing along the side.

You nod, sucking in your lips in a feeble attempt to keep a straight face. “Well, you can just play somewhere else. And we’re gonna get started with circle time in a few minutes.” Time to sing the Good Morning song–again. If the kids didn’t beg for it every day, you would’ve scrapped it months ago, but it keeps them entertained.

Once she scampers off, already zeroing in on a group of girls dressing up some time-battered Barbie dolls, you turn your attention back to Eddie. 

“We’re still on for Saturday?” you ask, a subtle reminder of your upcoming date at Enzo’s. It’s a fancier restaurant than either of you are used to, but Eddie had insisted on it.

He nods quickly, scratching at the back of his neck like he does when he’s nervous, though you’re not quite sure what’s on his mind. “Y-Yeah, I’ll pick you up at 7?”

“I can’t wait.”

At 3:15, you and Will trudge into the classroom that’s serving as the meeting venue. It only takes a moment for you to remember that it’s Ms. Marion’s room, and your eyes scan the walls for Harris’s artwork. You find it easily; it’s the best in the class. It’s a drawing based on the saying, ‘March is in like a lion and out like a lamb,’ and each kid drew a picture of the two animals. Harris has meticulously added details to his. He’s drawn a zig-zag line under the lion’s pink nose to represent his aggression and given the lamb a puffy coat of wool, while the other kids just drew smiling lions and a circle to represent their lambs’ bodies. He’s also included a speech bubble hovering above each of their heads; the lion’s says “ROR!!!” and the lamb bleats “BAAA.” 

Will’s gaze follows yours, and his lips turn up into a smile when he sees what you’re staring at. “He’s a talented kid,” he remarks. “We gotta have him sign something now so we can say ‘we knew him when.’” 

You nod your head in agreement and return his grin. You’ll have to tell Eddie to have Harris swing by your classroom after school tomorrow so Harris can autograph some drawings.

Wayne comes in a few minutes later, taking a seat behind you and Will.

“How’s your day going, Wayne?” You turn around in your chair and greet him. Seeing the older Munson always lifts your spirits. He’s wearing a flannel, checks of olive green and white, over a white t-shirt that proudly proclaims: My Favorite Person Calls Me Grampa.

Wayne gives a little shrug; for him, it’s the equivalent of a beaming smile. “Can’t complain. Didn’t get too much pushback from Harris when I dropped him at the baby-sitter’s.” He explains that Claudia Henderson still has a bunch of the games her son had played with, and Harris loves going through the toy bin and finding something new. “Well, new to him. That stuff’s gotta be nearly twenty years old by now.” He scratches the white-gray whiskers on his cheek and chuckles. “Jeez, ‘m old. I remember buyin’ those kinda games for Eddie when he was a kid.”

More parents and teachers file in and, eventually, the PTA president stands at the front of the classroom and calls the meeting to order. The idle conversation gradually ceases, and Linda Wright presses her lips into a thin smile and smooths nonexistent creases in her khaki slacks.

“Welcome, everyone,” she begins, clasping her hands together in front of her. “Thank you all for being here. We have quite a few items to cover today, so let’s get to it!” She’s far too chipper for your liking, and you wince involuntarily as she excitedly announces the upcoming parent-child talent show. It’s an annual school-hosted fundraiser, and apparently a popular one; there’s a soft roar of discussion before Linda wrinkles her nose in irritation and shushes the group.

“Oh, Ed’s gonna love that,” Wayne leans in and whispers to you. “He’ll probably be more excited than Harris.” He sits up straight when Linda clears her throat and glares in his direction.

The president launches into a tirade about kindergarten readiness strategies, handing out little pamphlets to the parents and guardians. The cover displays an overly-enthusiastic teacher surrounded by a small group of students who are closely attending to a fake lesson.

You hear Wayne grumble under his breath: “What is there to be ready for? It’s kindergarten, Jesus Christ.” and you have to stifle a laugh.

Linda luckily doesn’t hear his lament. “I’m opening up the floor to any questions or concerns.” Now is the time that people typically start gathering their belongings and resume unfinished conversations. It’s precisely what you plan to do until you hear an all-too familiar snide voice from across the room. 

“Yes, I have a question.” Carol Perkins stands up. She places her hands on her hips and pulls her lips into a smirk. “What is the school’s policy on parent-teacher relationships? Romantic and…otherwise?” Her gaze sweeps over to you, hovering there for a bit, and you realize with a sense of dread that she’s enjoying this. “Because, to me,” she splays her manicured fingers over the center of her chest, “it just seems completely unprofessional.”

The PTA members start whispering amongst themselves, eyebrows raised in excitement as they try to determine the culprit amongst themselves.

You want to crawl into a hole and die. You can feel Wayne’s eyes on the back of your head, as though he’s silently willing you to remain composed. The only other person who knows of your relationship with Eddie is Will, and you can tell that he’s doing everything in his power not to wrap his arms around you in a hug.

At the very least, the principal is not tolerating the dissolution of the meeting into a gossip session. “Ms. Perkins, we can discuss this at a later time. Privately.” Sue Sinclair’s expression is stoic, unreadable, and you’re not sure whether she’s angry at you or Carol. How would she know it’s me? But logic has no reason with emotion taking center stage, and you’re all too grateful when Chrissy Carver shifts the conversation to organize a ticket sale committee. For the most part, it seems like Carol’s little outburst has been swept under the rug. The meeting concludes as some parents leave while others stick around to schedule playdates, but you remain seated.

A hand on your shoulder startles you from your humiliated stupor, and you look up to see Will looking at you. Sympathy radiates from his eyes.

“It’s okay,” he softly reassures you. “I don’t think anyone knows, and even if they do, who cares? Harris isn’t in your class anymore.”

“I-I know.” But Frankie is, which means I’ll have to face Carol every day, I’ll have to deal with her smarmy expressions and backhanded comments. The blood drains in your face when you think about her spreading rumors to the other parents, their amused stares as they drop their children off to be in your care.

Wayne speaks up as he stands, leaning his gnarled knuckles on the seat of the folding chair for support. “Darlin’, you’ve got nothin’ to worry about. It’s no one’s business who you’re with.” He brushes some dust off of his dungarees and walks with a slight limp towards the door, the remnants of an old injury that flares up in the colder weather. “I gotta go get Harris, but you keep your chin up.” He gives Will a quick head bob that the younger man returns, having developed somewhat of a camaraderie with the elder Munson during the various post-graduation Hellfire sessions held at the trailer.

Carol says nothing as she leaves the room, deep in conversation with Steve Harrington and his wife. If they don’t know about you and Eddie yet, you’re confident that Carol will ensure they do soon. Dread pools in your stomach at the thought of small-town gossip flying, your professionalism being called into question, the possibility of you losing your job. And everyone will know why. 

Eddie’s hands tremor with excitement; his whole body buzzes with energy as he grabs the receiver off of the glass countertop. He dials your number–his favorite seven digit combination in the world–and beams the entire time. As soon as he hears your, “hello?”, he’s practically shouting into the phone. Volume control has never been his forte, especially after years of blowing out his eardrums with loud music.

“Babe, guess what?” He drums his left hand fingertips on the counter, a rhythmic pum-pum-pum to keep his breath steady.

“What’s up?” 

He notes hesitance in your tone, but chalks it up to exhaustion from your extended workday. “I applied for that manager position? The one I told you about on our first date?” He hears your soft “mhm,” before proceeding. “And I got it! Ash just told me now!” He smiles, pressing the receiver to his ear with his shoulder as he organizes paperwork into a pile. “Eddie Munson, getting the girl and the job? Never in Hawkins’ wildest dreams!”

There’s a pause on your end of the line before you reply. “I’m so proud of you, Eds. No one deserves this more than you do.” 

Though there’s still an air of something Eddie can’t quite identify, it’s woven with genuine pride for his accomplishment. His fingertips keep busy as they graze up and down the phone cord. “Now we, uh, really have something to celebrate at Enzo’s.”

Another pause; this one is so long that he wonders if the line disconnected. “Um, about that…” you finally speak up, and Eddie hopes you don’t hear the gigantic sigh of relief that escapes his lips, “maybe we could just do something at my place? Grab takeout, watch a movie or something?”

His relief evaporates almost as quickly as it came, and he puts his weight on his forearms and lowers his voice. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just been a long week.”

It sounds too automatic, too rehearsed to be true. Eddie doesn’t believe you, but he needs to get to Wayne’s and pick up Harris before his uncle leaves for work. “I really wanted to take you out, show you off, y’know?” He clears his throat, scrambling for words. “We can talk more about it later. Try to get some rest, Sweetheart.”

“Mmkay,” you mumble, and Eddie hopes he’s not just imagining the smile in your voice. “I’ll try. Say hi to Harris and Wayne for me.”

He ends the phone call promising that he will, hanging up hesitantly. What happened between this morning and this evening that had you backing out of the date and retreating into your home? 

I shouldn’t have tried to hold her hand, he grimaces, pulling out of the parking lot and onto the main road towards Forest Hills. That was so stupid; she was at work, and the kids were right there. Way to go, Munson. 

Eddie continues to brood about his faux pas all the way until he gets to Wayne’s, slapping a smile on his face as he relays the news about his promotion. The smile becomes less forced the more he talks. He’s suddenly consumed with thoughts of buying a house with a yard, a pool–well, maybe not a pool; he’s not making that much money–but definitely space for Harris to run around and play.

And in this fantasy world he’s created, you’re standing on the front porch, sipping coffee out of a World’s Best Mom mug–possibly the only mug Wayne doesn’t already have nailed to the trailer wall–made just the way you like it. You’re laughing as you watch Harris sprint back and forth across the grass. Eddie imagines it neatly cut, but the reality is that it would probably be more than a bit overgrown.

He’d sneak up behind you, snaking arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder, pressing soft kisses onto the back of your neck–

“That’s amazing, Ed!” Wayne claps a hand on his nephew’s back, drawing him out of his daydream and thrusting him back into reality. He pulls him into a quick hug, not overabundant in affection, but his delight seeps through. “You talk to your girl yet?” 

“First person I called.” My girl. The first person I called was my girl. She’s my girl and I’m her man–

“Good.” Wayne responds pensively, smoothing down his unruly mustache whiskers and reaching for his pack of Camels. He shoves them into his side pocket, right on top of the lighter. “She could use some good news after that shitshow of a PTA meeting.”

Eddie’s brows crinkle, pinched together in non-understanding. “What are you talking about?” he asks before calling out his son’s name to bring him from the bedroom. He can hear the bed springs creaking, which can only mean that Harris is jumping on the old mattress. Apparently, breaking his wrist didn’t result in a lesson learned.

“She didn’t tell you?” 

“Tell me what?” He slams his palm onto the countertop as confusion melts into frustration. Weren’t you past this? Past keeping secrets and masking emotions?

Wayne sighs, weighing his options. Ultimately, his allegiance is to his nephew, so he divulges what happened that afternoon, heart sinking as Eddie’s face falls with each word. “She seemed real shook up,” he concludes the story, digging out the pack of cigarettes. Delivering news that devastates his nephew has him urgently craving a smoke. “I wanted to stay and talk to her, but Claudia had somewhere to be at five.”

Eddie chews on his lower lip, pulling off a bit of dry skin with his front teeth. “Yeah, no, ‘s fine.” He calls Harris out of the bedroom again, patience sufficiently thinned. Of course Carol Perkins would shoot off her big mouth about your personal life. It’s not like she had anything better to do. None of that is surprising. 

What worries Eddie is why you didn’t tell him about it. Were you embarrassed that people knew you were together? Is that why you didn’t want to be seen at Enzo’s with him? Would you agree to a restaurant far outside the bounds of Hawkins, or was this shame rooted deeper than small-town gossip?

Wayne can sense his anxiety, and he scrambles to dam up Eddie’s flooding thoughts as he fumbles to put the cigarette between his lips. “It’s pretty damn obvious that you two care for each other. Dare I say, you lo—”

“Wayne!”

“Fine, fine,” Wayne chuckles and grabs his lunch pack. The ceasing of the bed springs indicates that Harris has stopped jumping, and Eddie can hear toy cars clattering into a bag. “But you should just talk to her. Make sure she’s okay.” He lowers his voice as Harris finally emerges. “I know it ain’t been easy to hear rumors your whole life, but this is new to her. Cut her a little slack.”

Eddie looks around the trailer at what was his first real home. He’d bounced from place to place with his parents, dodging angry landlords and their threats of eviction. From a young age, he’d learned to dread the end of the month, knowing that conflict was inevitable. Screaming voices, accusations of hiding money, when anyone with working eyes could see that they’d all but stuffed it in a pipe and smoked it. There was no love; only survival. Wayne was never the cookies and milk, family dinner, Leave it to Beaver type, but he offered Eddie something he’d never had before: safety.

Now, Eddie scoops Harris into his arms and follows Wayne out of the trailer as he locks up. There’s not too much of great value; possibly just the TV, but even that’s on the fritz. And unless a thief had a hankering for hokey mugs and baseball caps, they’d probably leave without taking a thing. “Thanks, Old Man.”

“‘S what I’m here for,” Wayne says, pressing a kiss to Harris’s mop of curls. He pauses, and then does something he hasn’t done in years: he kisses the top of Eddie’s head, too. “Not just a pretty face, y’know.”

On Saturday evening, Eddie finds himself at Bradley’s Big Buy, scouring the aisles until he locates the small refrigerator holding various flower bouquets. The chill hits him in the chest as he opens the door, crouching down to get a better look at the offerings through their tissue-paper wraps. He’s determined to take you to Enzo’s, and he’d hoping this small gesture will show you that he can be the man you deserve.

He finds a bouquet of pink peonies and grabs them from the display case, clutching them proudly. They’re delicate and beautiful, just like you. He raises them up, the petals tickling his nose when he inhales the fresh scent, when he overhears Billy Hargrove speaking in a hushed tone:

“Thought you were stopping by after that parent meeting thing.”

“My idiot husband came home early,” a woman–Carol Perkins, Eddie realizes–punctuates her lament with an irritated sigh. “But speaking of that meeting–I’ve been meaning to tell you: guess who’s also hooking up?” She doesn’t wait for him to answer before divulging the gossip, “Frankie’s teacher and Eddie Munson.”

“The teacher and the Freak? No way.” He sticks his tongue in his cheek and chuckles maliciously. “Didn’t know she was down for that kind of stuff.”

“Keep it in your pants,” Carol huffs, as though she’s not stepping out on her own husband. “But I’m serious! He brings her coffee and leaves her stupid love notes.”

Eddie squeezes his eyes together as he cringes. Billy’s second round of mean laughter transports him back to the time the jock grabbed his brand-new D20 off of the lunch table and used his basketball skills to chuck it into a far-off trash can. The ruby red die sunk into the mountain of discarded lumps resembling mashed potatoes and half-eaten meatloaf, forcing Eddie to trek across the cafeteria and fish it out of the pile of old food. “Love notes? What, is he in high school or something?”

Carol snickers. “Guess he’s making up for all the times he didn’t bother, since he knew no girl in this town would go for him.”

“Looks like he had to go for an import,” Billy jokes, drawing a hideous cackle from his friend. Eddie can practically hear the man’s ego inflating at the way Carol fawns over him.

“And a desperate one at that,” she snorts. “I mean, can you imagine lowering your standards enough to be with Eddie Munson?”

“Let’s hope she comes to her senses eventually,” he agrees. “So, is your husband home now…?”

All Eddie can think is to run, to get the hell out of there before anyone spots him and notices the pink tinging his cheeks and the tears welling in his eyes. He’s so focused on leaving and getting past the two bullies that he forgets about the flowers in his hand, until an infuriated voice calls after him.

“Hey! Get back here!” The manager rolls his eyes when he recognizes the culprit. “Eddie Munson. Of course. I should’ve known that shoplifting isn't too juvenile a crime for you.” 

Eddie can hear Billy and Carol poorly stifling their amusement at his misfortune. He struggles to find the proper words to explain himself as his entire body is engulfed in the flames of embarrassment, burning him from the inside out. “No…I didn’t mean…it was an accident…”

The manager shakes his head with a biting laugh. He’s a graying man who should have been retired fifteen years ago when Eddie was actually shoplifting. The liver-spotted creases around his eyes are particularly visible when he sneers, “Heard that one before. Prob’ly from you.”

Anger burns in Eddie’s throat, but he swallows it. “Look, let me just pay for these, and I’ll get outta here.” He starts to fumble for his wallet, but the old man shakes his head.

“Nice try. I let you off easy too many times when you were a kid, and look where it got ya.” His cold hand clasps Eddie’s bicep as tightly as his feebleness allows. “I’m calling the sheriff. He can decide what to do with you.”

“Shit-shit-shit,” Eddie mumbles, yanking himself from the man’s grip. “Y’don’t have to hold me; I’m not gonna run away.”

To his surprise, the manager lets him go, though it’s likely due to his advanced age rather than trusting Eddie to do the right thing.

He’s taken to the back room, anxiously tapping his foot against the floor and biting his thumbnail. A quick glance at his watch tells him that he’s supposed to pick you up in 15 minutes. He breathes out a long sigh, scanning the bulletin board hastily fastened to the wall with a lone flyer advertising medical benefit sign-up. Upon closer inspection, he reads that it’s for the 1990 fiscal year, and he can’t help but wonder if that’s the last time the stodgy old Bradley ever offered insurance to his overworked, underpaid employees. 

He says a silent prayer to whatever gods are listening that Hopper is the one who answers the call. The chief will give him the benefit of the doubt and probably tear the old fart a new one for wasting his time.

Purse, keys, lipstick, condoms.

You have everything you need for your date, save for one minor detail–Eddie.

You’d expected him to stop by your classroom yesterday to say good morning like he normally does, but he didn’t show. He would’ve called you if Harris was staying home sick; a brief peek out your window during recess confirmed that the littlest Munson was present. He ran around the playground with one of his friends from the birthday party, blissfully unaware of the turmoil churning within you.

Eddie definitely heard what happened at the meeting, you realize miserably, and he doesn’t want to deal with the backlash he’ll get from dating his kid’s former teacher. From anxiety blooms visions of the convoluted game of telephone perpetuated by Carol, the story getting more absurd with each retelling. 

At 7:30, Eddie still hasn’t shown. He’s not exactly Mr. Punctuality, but thirty minutes is pushing it, even for him. His tardiness does nothing to ameliorate your fears. This was clearly too much for him—you were too much for him. 

You’re about to wipe the makeup off of your face and change into your coziest pair of pajamas when the phone rings, startling you slightly.

“H-Hello?”

“This is a collect call from the Hawkins County Jail. Do you accept the charges?” an automated voice bleats, too chipper for the circumstances it’s reporting.

You’re caught off-guard by the question and the tone, and you choke out a strangled, “yes” and the line rings twice.

“Sweetheart? You there?” Eddie. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Relief floods your body until you remember where he’s calling from.

“Y-Yeah, I’m here,” you say, and it’s only when your fingers start to cramp that you recognize how tightly you’re gripping the receiver. “Why are you in–”

He sighs into the phone, and static briefly clouds his voice. “Long story,” he mumbles. “Can you just come and get me? There’s, uh, no bail or anything.”

“I’ll be right there.” You waste no time in grabbing your keys off of their hook, nearly forgetting to shove your feet into shoes in your scramble out the door. You’re ashamed to admit that for a millisecond, you consider the possibility that he’s been busted for dealing, but you shake it off lest it further infiltrate your psyche.

You pull up to the jail exactly twenty-eight minutes later, the fastest you can get there without flying down side streets; the irony of being pulled over for speeding on your way to the police station was not lost on you. Flinging the car into park and killing the engine, you fast-walk through the entrance and hope your nervousness is hidden by the air of confidence you’re faking. 

“I’m here to pick up Eddie—er, Edward Munson?” His legal name is clunky on your tongue, like it doesn’t quite belong to him. 

The officer behind the desk wears a name badge that reads “P. Callahan.” He puts down his copy of the Hawkins Post and presses his lips into a thin line as he reaches for the walkie attached to his shirt pocket. 

“Hop, is Munson ready to be released?” Released. Like a wild animal who needs to be kept away from the general public for their own safety. 

The officer on the other end—Chief Hopper, you presume—confirms that Eddie is good to go, and a door opens shortly after that. Eddie trudges out, shame and frustration marring his beautiful face. 

You sign whatever paperwork is required before silently taking Eddie’s hand and leading him to the car. He holds it tight, a shiver of a tremor rocking through it.

“Babe, what happened?” you ask once you’re safely outside, away from where the officers can hear you.

Eddie lets go of your hand to throw his arm around you dramatically, leaning with his whole body weight. The sudden force of it has you stumbling, but he catches your fall. 

“It’s awful being on the inside,” he whines, trying to lay on an exaggerated pout, but his smile pokes through. “You’ve made me too soft for prison, baby. Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you and almost got shanked.”

His joke subtly informs you that he’s not ready to actually discuss it yet, and so you roll your eyes and play along for now.  “Poor thing. Locked up for a whole forty minutes.”

“It was more like forty-five,” he protests, “and every second counts when it’s spent missing my girl.”

“You’re so full of it, Munson.” My girl. If he never calls you anything else but his girl for the rest of your lives, you wouldn’t complain.

He wraps his arms around your waist from behind, pulling you in so your back is pressed against his chest. “Full of longing and devotion!”

“Sshh!” you chastise him lightly through your giggling. “Get in the car, crazy man.”

“Crazy ‘bout you!” Eddie says, booping your nose. As soon as your fingers wrap around the gearshift, he’s resting his hand atop yours. It trembles slightly.

Tell me what happened. Don’t keep any more secrets from me. I won’t judge you or leave you. I’m your girl, remember?

It takes a few blocks before you finally work up the courage to ask, “Is everything okay?” It’s a stupid question; you don’t get arrested if everything’s okay, but the alternative is a more straightforward, Why the hell did I have to pick you up from jail?, so you acquiesce. 

“‘M good.” He gives your hand another tiny squeeze and attempts a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

You sigh, poorly hiding your impatience for answers you need to know. “Can we talk about what happened?” 

His slow release of breath is in sync with your foot pressing on the brake pedal as you approach a stop sign. “Not a big deal. Just a misunderstanding.”

“A misunderstanding that led to you getting arrested?” Stop hiding. Stop pretending. Stop acting like this is fine when it clearly isn’t. Stop making me feel like you don’t trust me. The words get caught behind clenched teeth, threatening to ooze through the gaps.

“Yup.” He leans back in his seat and closes his eyes as though giving a sufficient response to end the conversation.

You drive another few minutes before you spot the sign for Lovers Lake in the distance. There’s only one surefire way to calm his nerves; whatever it is he’s keeping from you, there’s a reason he hasn’t worked up the courage to say it. 

Eddie sits up and peers out the window in confusion when you veer to the exit. “Where are we—”

“You’ll see.”

Parking in a spot secluded by trees and the dark of night, you turn to him and stroke his cheek with your thumb. “Can I make my man feel good?” you coo, taking his earlobe between your teeth and tugging lightly. You can feel the small bump where his piercings used to be.

“Shit, baby,” he breathily groans, adjusting the seat so you have ample space to straddle his lap. His hands fly to his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling the leather strip from its loops. Though his pants aren’t as tight around him now, you can still see the outline of his now half-hard cock beginning to press against his fly. “‘S exactly what I need.”

But it isn’t solely the act of sex that he needs, although it would be a farce to imply that he didn’t crave the feeling of you wrapped around him. It was the public nature of it; the way that anyone could walk by and see you on top of him. Could see you choosing him. The teacher choosing the Freak. 

You roll your hips, denim-on-denim creating a delicious friction that draws moans from both you and Eddie. Your lips chastely graze his neck, trailing kisses upwards until you reach the prickly stubble along his jawline. 

Eddie’s hands grab your ass, claiming it as his. “Feels—mmf—feels good,” he grunts, letting out a soft chuckle when he adds, “gonna make me cream my jeans if you keep grinding on me like that.”

“S’okay,” you shrug, maintaining your tempo. You press your lips to his and he whines into your mouth. “Just wanna ease your mind tonight, Eds.”

“Yeah, but the face you make when you cum? Christ, babe. Makes it even better for me.” He scoots you off of him for a moment, laughing again when he sees your lower lip jut out. “Let me just grab a condom, you needy little thing.”

You bury your head in the crook of his neck and begin sucking on its supple skin as he fumbles for his wallet. “Fine, fine,” you grumble, a teasing lilt in your tone. “The last thing we need is for people seeing that you knocked me up.”

Eddie freezes beneath you, his wallet falling to the weather-mat with a thud. “Wh…what?” His voice is below a whisper, volume compressed by emotion. 

“We’ve only been together, like, a month.” It’s too obvious a point to confuse him. There’s no way he really wants a kid with you right now. “We can’t have a baby—”

Eddie vehemently shakes his head, effectively cutting you off. “But that’s not what you said.” You see hurt in his eyes as you try to piece together the puzzle. The fact that you can’t immediately identify the source adds another element of frustration for both of you. “You said that we can’t have people seeing that I knocked you up. Why…why wouldn’t you want people knowing that I…?”

The imagined swell of your belly that he’d hoped you proudly show off, mindlessly caressing it as you walk hand-in-hand with him, is now covered with layers of clothing, even in summer’s heat. You’re tugging a cardigan closed, determined not to let anyone see the shame you’re carrying along with Eddie Munson’s child.

“I just figured you wouldn’t want people talking about you,” you manage, thinking of the rumor that had spread after Harris’s injury. You bring yourself back to the driver’s seat, and it takes another moment before something else dawns on you. “You wouldn’t be upset by people knowing? I mean, not that we’d, y’know, have a kid right now…because you already have one, and this is all so new…” You clamp your lips together to shut yourself up, having already blabbered on for too long.

Eddie shakes his head, tousling his frizzy curls. “Why would I be upset? You’re my girl.” Worry ripples through him, evident through his expression. His doe eyes grow even wider, and he spins his rings around his fingers. One slips and bounces off of the passenger seat, but he doesn’t move to retrieve it. “You still want to be my girl, right?”

“I still want to be your girl,” you confirm, watching his body decompress with relief. “I just don’t want to make things even worse than they are. I mean, you can’t even tell me why you were in jail tonight. That’s a pretty big deal, Eds.” There’s a lump in your throat as you force out your feelings. You hate confronting people, hate drawing information from an unwilling party. But Eddie is your boyfriend, and this is serious. “Why won’t you tell me?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he mutters, keeping his head on the headrest and eyes trained on in front of him; his unwillingness to look at you serves as an act of defiance. “I had to hear about the PTA meeting from Wayne.”

The contents of your stomach curdle like milk in the sun. “You’d just told me about your promotion,” you stumble, unable to find footing in your meek protest, “I didn’t want to—”

“So, yesterday? Or today?” he pushes, a tango of anger and hurt dancing in his darkened pupils. “You could’ve called me.”

You could have; you’d certainly considered it more than once, but you didn’t want to bother him. It seemed like such an asinine complaint: Oh, Eddie, a grown adult bullied me, another grown adult, at the PTA meeting. Did I stand up for myself? Nope. Just sat there and tried not to sob like one of the kids I teach. “I thought if you knew what people were saying, you wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. You’d think I was too much of a burden.”

“You?” Eddie gawps, nearly choking on the word. “You think that you’re the burden? That you’re the reason why people are talking about this?” People. Not just Carol. The information slips from his lips, but he doesn’t catch it. “Nah, Sweetheart. In the equation of ‘Teacher’ plus ‘Freak,’ you’re hardly the problematic variable.”

“‘Teacher plus Freak?’” 

“Teacher,” he says slowly, pointing to you, “Freak.” He brings his forefinger to his own chest. “I’m kinda used to it; just sucks when it affects other people.” He looks at you through his soft brown eyes. “People I care about.”

You’re unsure how to respond, so you say nothing. You vaguely recall Jess telling you about his high school nickname, but you had no idea it had stuck after all these years. 

Eddie sighs, shifting his position to get slightly more comfortable. “Tonight, I was at the store getting some flowers for you. And, um, I heard Carol and Billy Hargrove talking about how you had to be desperate to be with me. That you’d realize you’re too good for me and leave.” His teeth dig into his bottom lip and he lowers his head. You watch a tear slide down his cheek, and he sucks in a messy breath as he tries to control the dam of emotions threatening to burst.

“Too good for you?” The notion is almost comical, and you have to hold back an incredulous laugh. “Too good for the man who rescued Grandma after she locked herself in her room? Who came to her funeral? Who gave me another chance after I made an ass out of myself?” You use your pointer and middle fingers to tilt his chin upwards until his gaze meets yours. “Too good for the man who would do anything for his son?”

“No,” Eddie shoots back, “too good for the guy who grew up being taunted because he played Dungeons & Dragons instead of basketball. The guy who abandoned his pregnant girlfriend to go on tour. Who treated you like shit just to avoid getting close to you. Who…who got arrested for accidentally taking flowers from Bradley’s because he’d stolen from them so much that no one believed him when he said it wasn’t on purpose.” He recalls swiping candy bars, jars of peanut butter, and the occasional six-pack of Pabst during his rebellious teenage years. After he’d schlepped back to Hawkins, proverbial tail tucked between his legs, there was more than one occasion where he’d ripped diapers from their boxes and tucked them into his jacket pocket, walking as casually as he could until he was a safe enough distance to exhale and run.

You take a sharp breath in. “That’s what happened tonight?”

“Yeah,” he says; the admission is a sack of bricks being lifted from his chest. “Those schmucks got in my head, and I walked out the store with the flowers like a fuckin’ idiot.” He replays the scene in his head, inwardly cringing at his desperation to flee the premises and inadvertently drawing everyone’s attention to him. He starts to laugh, but anger, sadness, and relief all brew together and the dam bursts completely. One tear multiples to two, four, eight, until he’s simultaneously choking on sobs and laughter, the overlapping emotions wreaking havoc on his nervous system.

“Fuck, ‘m sorry,” he manages through another half-laugh half-sob. He swipes at his cheeks with open palms, and you reach for the travel box of Kleenex you keep in the glove compartment and hand him a tissue. “Thanks.”

“You don’t ever need to apologize to me for crying,” you murmur, barely audible as you press a kiss into his mess of curls just behind his left ear. “I want–I need you to be able to show me what you’re feeling.” Eddie blows his nose, loud and honking, and your lips turn up into a small smile. “Why do we let them get to us?” you wonder aloud, a question more for you than for him.

“I was thinking about that,” Eddie muses, stuffing the used tissue into his jacket pocket. He’ll try and remember to toss it later, but part of him knows he’ll find it there tomorrow. “Like, I didn’t give a damn what they said about me back in high school, but now, as an adult, I do?” He takes a deep breath through his mouth. “And I realized…it’s because I never cared about what they thought of me. Not really. But, fuck, I care about what you think of me.” He swallows before stroking your cheek. “I want to be enough for you.”

You kiss the tip of his nose, letting your lips linger there longer than necessary to ensure the feeling of belonging becomes entrenched in his pores. “You’re enough, Eddie. You’ve always been enough.” Your hands find his, and you lace your fingers together. “I have an idea. Why don’t we grab some takeout, maybe pick up a bottle of wine, and bring it back to my place.” You immediately worry that you’ve proven his point of not wanting to be seen with him, so you quickly backtrack. “We can still go out to dinner; I just figured…after the night you had…”

He silences you with a kiss of his own, nose nudging the side of yours. “I’d love that.” Before you can start the car again, he says, “what Carol said at the meeting…did it really make you think I wouldn’t want to be with you?”

You nod solemnly, breaking his heart all over again. “You already have so much on your plate. I didn’t want to be another problem to deal with.”

Eddie’s expression hardens, but his frustration isn’t directed towards you. It’s for anyone who has ever made you feel like loving you is a chore. He does the only thing he can think of doing: he takes your face in his hands, fingers tucked behind the smooth skin of your ears, and peppers your face in a flurry of kisses.

“Eddie!” you cry out through a fit of giggles. Your eyes squeeze together as his lips tickle your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your chin. 

He only pulls away to take a breath, and when he does, he’s smiling through shiny eyes as he continues holding your face. “You are not a problem. Never.” He pauses, collecting his thoughts. “We make each other happy. And if anyone tries to fuck with that, we’ll just…sic Harris on them.”

The gray clouds that were scattered across your brain dissipate at the mere idea of the boy charging at Billy and Carol like a miniature rhinoceros. Insecurity still hovers over you, waiting for the perfect blend of sadness and vulnerability to strike, but it’s not quite as heavy as it was before. 

You aren’t too much for Eddie, and Eddie is enough for you.

And you’re everything to each other. 

--

taglist:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale @theintimatewriter

[dumbseee]

she’s everything and he’s just ken.

f1 au: in which, well basically the title. carlos and y/n have been dating for a few months, and carlos can’t stop showing off his beautiful girlfriend to the world.

carlos sainz jr x singer!reader.

fc: becky g.

liked by y/n, landonorris, danielricciardo and 2 008 008 others.

carlossainz55: i love seeing you on stage princesa 💙

_

y/n: seeing you in the audience is what gives me strength mi amor

liked by carlossainz55.

danielricciardo: i literally thought that was a y/n fan page

fan1: the fact that he goes to all her concerts even if he’s busy

fan2: i saw him there he was so sweet! and he was wearing blue to match with her :(

fan3: y/n and carlos are so barbie and ken coded

fan4: he took a whole camera with him to take pictures of her omgg

fan5: carlos is literally a book boyfriend, he can’t be real

landonorris: omg are you joining the jpg gang?

alex_albon: @.landonorris please he’s going to call it y/n.jpg

fan6: but why was he in the audience and not backstage?

carlossainz55: @.fan6 to have a better view ;)

liked by y/n, charles_leclerc, lewishamilton and 1 800 087 others.

carlossainz55: congratulations princesa on your first ever american latin music award! (in my opinion you deserved to win all the categories) your voice is my favorite medicine.

_

y/n: omg i love you so much stop

landonorris: you guys are insufferable

carlossainz55: @.landonorris i’m blocking you.

fan1: i want a carlos in my life

fan2: « your voice is my favorite medicine » what if i was sewcidal?

fan3: brb im going to throw myself out of the window

fan4: pls he also went with her at the ceremony 😭

fan5: just get married already

liked by y/n, alex_albon, charles_leclerc and 1 789 097 others.

carlossainz55: i fall in love with you a little bit more everyday.

_

y/n: girls i’m officially head over heels for this man

landonorris: guys i’ve done the maths and out of 3 posts carlos make every week, 2 out of 3 are about y/n

y/n: @.landonorris i can’t believe you can count omg

danielricciardo: this is officially a y/n fanpage

fan1: y/n deserve that level of love tho her last relationship was a disaster so i’m so happy to see her being treated like the princess she is

carlossainz55: @.fan1 queen* but period

fan2: y/n please where did you find him i need a bf like him

liked by carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, lilymhe and 3 789 821 others.

y/n: i know that we joke a lot about how obsessed this lil guy is, but i thought that it was time for a little carlos appreciation post. first of all, thank you for loving me, we met when i was in a very dark place but you still picked me up from the ground and helped me heal. i’ll always be grateful for that. i love all your little intentions like the flowers you send me every 5th of the month because we met on that date. or when you cook my favorite meal when i’m not in the mood. you’re my bestfriend, my guardian angel, my anchor, my inspiration, my everything. thank you for being you carlos and thank you for loving me the way you do ❤️

_

carlossainz55: you deserve the world and more y/n, the way i’m treating you is the way someone as amazing as you should be treated. i love you more princesa <3

danielricciardo: get a ROOM

landonorris: there is kids on this app!

y/n: @.landonorris you’re past your bedtime lando go to bed.

fan1: i want what they have :(

fan2: these two never fail to make me feel depressed about being single

fan3: i don’t even want a boyfriend but it must be nice to be loved like that

fan4: romeo and juliet who? i only know carlos and y/n

fan5: their relationship is so pure seriously they’re so precious

fan6: they better get married and have kids because if a couple like that ever breakup it’s over for us

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 3/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 1303

A/N: This is part 3 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

When the next morning came, you were rudely woken up by Butcher plopping down on the couch next to you.

“Well, how are you feeling?”. He hit your bare thigh a little too hard. “Glad to see you’re still alive". You couldn't tell whether he was serious or sarcastic.

“Uh-huh”, you replied, rubbing your eyes as you slowly sat up. “I really need my own damn room again", you grumbled.

When Annie called out to you from the kitchen, asking what happened between you and Soldier Boy, the memories of last night came flooding back to you. You no longer knew what disgusted and bothered you more. Ben's actions or what you did afterward. Your cheeks immediately blushed.

You only woke up from your trance when Annie waved her hand in front of your face. Blinking a few times and looking around, you saw Hughie, Frenchie and Annie standing in front of you questioningly, while Butcher gave you a doubtful look.

"What happened? Soldier Boy always left you alone, or rather, protected you?”, Hughie raised his hand, completely astonished. Your gaze slid to your bandaged wrist. “I… I don’t know… Ugh, I feel sick”, your voice cracked, before you stood up and fled to the bathroom.

"What the hell happened yesterday?", Annie turned to Butcher.

“Don’t look at me! I have no idea what Barbie did. In any case, Soldier Boy was beyond pissed. I'm surprised the house and especially (y/n) is still standing", Butcher shrugged before patting on his legs and getting up to grab a coffee.

As you got to the bathroom, you were so deep in thought that you didn't notice Ben getting out of the shower. The words caught in your throat as your eyes found him. You wanted to tell him that you didn't know he was in here. But instead of saying something or at least leaving the room, you stood rooted to the spot.

“Do you fucking mind?!”, he hissed, roughly shoving you to the side. Without shame and only a towel around his waist, Ben reached for his razor and began tracing the contours of his beard. He could see your helpless look in the mirror, but didn't say anything at first, even though he clearly felt his heart swell at the sight of you. To be honest, he didn't know what to say either. Instead, there was an uncomfortable silence in the bathroom. You could have cut off the air, it was so thick. Again he was torn by his emotions.

After a few seconds that felt like minutes, Ben dropped his razor with a clatter into the sink and turned to you. "Look, dollface. If you don't want to sit naked with your legs spread on this fucking sink, I'd really appreciate you get your little ass out of here and leave me the fuck alone before I make you do it". His Voice was deep and loud enough, to finally wake you up. His anger and his wounded pride won out and pushed everything else aside.

It took you a moment to remember who you actually were. Of course you had a healthy respect for Soldier Boy. After all you weren't an idiot. But you weren't afraid. You knew he wouldn't kill you, because you knew how he felt about you. Well, after last night more than ever.

“Asshole”, you hissed, pushing past him towards the door.

“Don’t you fucking forget your fucking attitude”, Ben called after you, pushing the door shut.

Before anyone could say anything, you raised your hand, took the cup of coffee from Butcher's hand and sat down at the dining table where Frenchie and Annie had already set breakfast. Hughie struggled with himself for a moment before opening his mouth to say something. You, on the other hand, quickly interrupted him. “Don’t fucking start. I don’t want to talk about it”, you grumbled, pulling your legs up on the chair and examining the cup in your hand before sinking back into your thoughts.

On any other day, Butcher would have complained about his coffee, but when he saw that you weren't really yourself at the moment, he just hissed "bitch" and grabbed another cup.

Less than 10 minutes later everyone was already sitting at the table and eating. Just as Butcher was about to bring up today's mission, Ben entered the room and everyone fell silent. As they waited to see what would happen, everyone looked between you and him.

"What?!", Ben hissed annoyed and sat down on the chair next to you, his usual seat.

Nobody answered him. Instead, Annie just mouthed a toneless “alrigth”, raised her eyebrows and turned back to Butcher.

"So, what's the plan?", She took a sip of her tea.

It wasn't until Ben reached across your plate for a donut that you became aware of his presence. Even though it wasn't easy for you, you did your best to ignore him as good as possible.

As Butcher announced what was planned for today, Ben gave him the same attention as always. Enough to accommodate what matters most to him. Not too much and not too little. He rather gave you his free attention, constantly looking at you from the corner of his eye.

“And don’t forget. Even if we want to, we can't kill anyone", Butcher looked at Ben.

“Don’t fucking look at me. I won't do anything. I'm just trying to make sure your incompetent asses don't get kicked", he said while he stuffed the second donut into his mouth.

"(y/n), you're still on a team with Soldier Boy", Butcher said firmly, even if his look seemed a little worried.

“Sure”, you muttered to yourself.

“I can’t wait to see you in that tight dress”, Ben shamelessly winked at you, making you roll your eyes. “I bet,” you grimaced. He always managed to exceed your expectations. How could he carry on like nothing happened. After last night? Was he really such an Asshole?

“Alright, girls”, Butcher stood in front of your apartment two hours later. “While (y/n) is, well… seducing that fish-fucking-bastard, this fucker here is keeping an eye on the two of them”, he placed his hand on Ben’s shoulder, who immediately shook it off. "MM, Frenchie and Annie are taking care of A-Train and Hughie and I will keep an eye out for Homelander. We only have this one chance. Don't screw it up!".

The car ride felt like an eternity. Usually, hand on heart, you had the best conversations with Ben. Even if he wasn't the best driver and you were constantly worried about getting killed in a car accident, you always had a great time talking to him. After driving through the middle of nowhere for a while, Ben finally broke the silence. “I won’t fucking touch you again. Calm the fuck down", he grumbled. You looked over at him cautiously. It was probably your racing heart again that gave you away. Or the fact that you held your buttoned-up coat to you like a second skin through your folded arms. “I'm a lot, but not a fucking rapist”, he met your gaze for a second before looking back at the road and gripping the steering wheel tighter with his left hand.

The, in your opinion, bad side of you, wanted to say so much more. Do much more. This side of you wanted to pounce on him and feel what the moaning women in his room were feeling.

However, your rational side remained in control, so you simply answered, “Good”.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 4

-

Taglist: @deangirl96

[b4b3tte]

KEN DATING YOU IN THE REAL WORLD!! <3

꒰ ⊹ ˚ Summary — Here are some Kenons of Ryan!Ken dating reader that is from the real world!

Contains of — How you and Ken met, How Ken is during a relationship, Love languages, And just basic “ girlfriend and boyfriend “ things

Pairing — Ryan!Gosling Ken X Fem!Reader

Note — bro I love this movie so much and I thought I would write for him!! After some Ken appreciation I’ll go back to writing for Wednesday and Rocky also guys REQUEST STUFF please keep me busy I’ll be updating my master list as well <3

Might be long sorry pookie

— MEETING

— let’s start off how you two met. You recently have moved to LA from Nevada to pursue your career of modeling, and of course you had no idea where anything is, you needed directions on where the nearest gas station is.

— the closest person near you was this attention-grabbing guy wearing a rather bold statement of an outfit, a black cowboy outfit with a pink bandanna tied around his neck, and oh before I forget a white cowboy hat 💀.

— people definitely don’t dress like that in Nevada but this is LA so this is probably normal you thought ( why?Idk ) so you asked the man

“ hi! Excuse me, do you know where the nearest gas station is, I just moved here so I’m not very familiar with the area! “

— Ken of course was very surprised, shocked,confused,happy and people might even say honored to be asked for DIRECTIONS by a women, it was a culture shock moment for him but was extremely happy to fulfill your question.

— big shocker, as handsome Ken was, he was no help, so you stop by the local police station for directions just to find him there again do you know why?no, but it worked out in your favor because I can say you two starting seeing each other more after that incident.

- you guys started seeing each other for a good month before he asked you out, I’m convinced he falls in love easily so it wasn’t long till he asked you if he can be your boyfriend and you best believe he was the happiest man on earth when you said yes

He was so hoping you weren’t like Barbie and just gonna friend zone him 😪

- ACTIONS

— now let’s get into how he behaves in a relationship, technically he was in one before you ( with Barbie ) but they never did girlfriend and boyfriend things and he didn’t felt or was treated like a boyfriend so to him, your guys relationship was his very first and was excited to make it your best one yet

- he is very new to this so excuse him if he is extremely clingy and overly affectionate with and towards you, you can say it’s just in his nature ( bro is literally a accessory Mattel’s words not mine )

- as for love languages he doesn’t really know much about them, he considers those love languages as just normal girlfriend and boyfriend things but when you tell him about it then he’ll understand it’s just a preferred way of showing love

- personally I think he will be big on public display of affection, he would love holding your hand, kissing you, hugging you and would have no shame in doing so, he will be slighty disappiointed ( more like insecure) if YOU aren’t big on PDA as he is

- but if you are he will just be off the roof just excited that your as happy to touch him and he is to touch you. But it wasn’t always this easy, he was honestly kinda nervous to even touch you, being rejected so many times he didn’t want to expect the same treatment or make you uncomfortable

- how you two starting showing more physical intimacy it was during your first “ sleepover “ you guys were having a wonderful time but it finally came down to you guys sleeping, and of course the sleeping arrangements were you two in the same bed

- when you two laid down you guys were just sticks not moving or anything it was intensely awkward, it took you to make a move and hold his hand, obviously his cheeks turned into a light pink tint and looked at you instantly with love in his eyes

— it was an amazing feeling for him but he wanted more, he wanted to have you against his chest holding onto him, like hugging but he didn’t know the term in the real world it was just hugging to him

“ can I hug you? while laying down? “

— you obviously smile at the hugging part but you wanted nothing more than the same thing so you move much closer to him and hug him very tightly and say

“ this is what cuddling is “

— every since that day you guys were physically affectionate with each other and enjoyed every single minute of it, now Ken tries to hug, kiss and touch you everywhere now that you guys started getting more intimate ( wholesomely )

- while he is looking for a job he probably is a house husband for awhile, so before you go to work ken will probably write you sweet notes and put it in your lunch box or on the fridge, wherever he knows you’ll be able to read it

— LOVE LANGUAGES

physical touch

— as we establish he adores physical touch and he will always try to be in contact with you physically, he just loves the way your guys skin feel with each other and the emotional connection between you guys, it is something he will never ever get over

— Especially kisses. Wether it’s pecks on the lips or full blown passionate making out it makes him feel like on another world and extremely happy. While cuddling makes him feel soft, and comfortable and Just really relaxed within your vibe and touch

— one thing he does ( I’m not sure if it’s creepy or romantic ) is once you’ve fallen asleep he will just stare at you and move strands of hair out of your face just admiring you and wondering how lucky he is to be your Ken

Words of affirmations

— other than physical touch, I think words of affirmations is the way he likes being shown love, being shown praise is something that makes him feel delighted ( horny ) and overall important towards you, wether it’s a compliment or a genuine message you tell him, he will love and hold it dearly to his heart

— he would definitely verbally express his love for you, a lots of “i love you“ “you are so gorgeous“ “you are amazing“ “ you are doing a wonderful job “ and so much more, i believe he just wants you to know you are amazing and that he will always appreciate you

“ i love you y/n you are the best thing that has every happened to me and you’ve made me feel enough and important and I love you for that and you are like so cool “

— the first time you said I love you or something along the lines of that, bro literally gasps and is in shock because he never expected a you to say that to someone like him and it definitely has made his day ( more like his life )

Gift giving

— i think these would be the last on this list, when he does get a job, he would probably just buy anything horse related but knowing how obsessive he is, he is definitely a good listener and would know whenever you want or need something and definitely buy it in a heart beat

— but on rare occasions when you guys are out somewhere he will see small things like a leaf or a coin and literally give it to you because it either represents a feature of yours or just reminds you of him in some weird romantic way

— on the other hand he would love JUST LOVE and deeply cherish every single gift or thing you give him, no matter if you bought it, stole it, made it, found it he will love it, honestly he will love anything you even touch

— probably after your work or his work, he will buy you a little something and some flowers just to see a smile on your face, seeing you happy is the only thing that matters to him and will keeping doing anything to make or see you smile

Quality time

— i dont think he will view this as an act of love but just something you do on a daily, just being next to each other or just being in the same house makes him comfortable knowing you are just there with him

— however anytime you guys are doing something like sleepover activities he will love it, and make him feel appreciated knowing you want to do these things with him instead of your friends

— but if it’s simpler things like getting food,walking around,going to the mall he wouldn’t necessarily think to much on it during the moment but at night he will definitely look back at those wonderful times between you two and truly value the time you guys spend together

— DATES

— dates will definitely be something special between you guys even thought they are probably the average dates you see in the movies it is still cute and memorable for Ken since he hasn’t been able to experience something like that in Barbieland

- the dates with include some movie dates, getting ice cream or frozen yogurt, walking together to go get lunch, beach dates he will absolutely die seeing you in a bathing suit, going to the park to feed ducks, or just cuddling in bed watching movies

- as obviously as this is i probably still have to state this, his favorite date will definitely be anything beach related he loves the sun, playing volleyball, surfing, building sand castles seeing how the beach world is in the real world he does get slightly obsessed with it for awhile and is the only place he wants to be at for the summer

- but he will definitely listen to you and what dates YOU enjoy, he wants to make you happy and would want to do anything to maintain that happiness so he will go do activities that interest you or make you excited even if it isn’t his cup of tea, just as long he can go surfing after hehehe his rules not mine

— LAST ONE. PET NAMES

— for the first ones it is plain and simple, the obvious babe and baby, he will use both but I think he will use babe the most, it’s simple it’s casual just an everyday thing he can use but when he wakes up all tired and sleepy he will use

“ hmm good morning baby “

— when he discovers any pet names in any other languages that sound remotely cool and romantic to him be will throw them at you 24/7, like Mi Amor or Hermosa, it will take awhile for him to go back to babe and baby

— when you use pet names on him it will drive him absolutely insane, just hearing those words come out of your mouth makes him all giggly and excited but he will want to remind chill and cool about it but most of the time doesn’t succeed

— he loves the nicknames handsome, baby, and my love but when he hears how you refer him to other people he just goes into a state of shock he will fall face first when he hears you refer him as “ my man “ towards other people he just goes like “ AAAAAAA”

- he loves calling you pet names and he loves hearing you call him pet names it is and will always be the highlight of his morning,evening and night and he still gets giggly about it no Mather how many times you call him that

I Hope you guys enjoy this!!! I hope this wasn’t as cringe or bad grammar I really tried my best to get this Ken character down to a T so I really pray this suits him as a character and that it reminds you of Ken and that you enjoy! Let me know if i should make a part two or any other new topics or prompts for Ken, put it in my request box 🫶

[thecw-unicorn]

“𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒍, 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒊𝒇𝒖𝒍 𝒂𝒓𝒎𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒐 𝒂𝒕 𝒐𝒅𝒅𝒔 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒏. 𝑨𝒏𝒅 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒏 𝒊𝒕.”

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

✮♱✮ art by anxara.art

✮♱✮ commissioned by me

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

Hello, everyone! I hope you are all doing well! I haven’t had an Elriel commission since Elriel month, so here is an absolutely stunning and breathtaking piece by the fantastic anxara.art!! She did a wonderful job of capturing the whimsical fairytale vibe I wanted to depict between these 2, as well as a sweet dash from Swan Lake, specifically the Barbie version, as I grew up with the movie. Let’s all give her some love for bringing my vision to life in a way I never could’ve imagined! I was also inspired by the town Ballonlea from the games Pokemon Sword and Shield. I adored the glowing mushrooms throughout and couldn’t help but think of these 2 lovelies and a cute secret date between them. I hope y’all enjoy as much as I do!

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

✮♱✮ quote is from A Court of Wings & Ruin by @therealsjmaas

✮♱✮ characters are Elain Archeron and Azriel from A Court of Thorns and Roses

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

✮♱✮ likes, saves, comment, and shares are always appreciated!

✮♱✮ no reposts allowed.

༉‧₊˚🕯️🖤❀༉‧₊˚.

[3seven-gambler]

#⌁꒰Cowgiɾl Bɑɾbie! ɾeɑdeɾ x RG! Ken dɑting heɑdcɑnons꒱

⋆ w𝗈𝗋𝖽 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗍: 631

⋆ g𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: fluff, SFW

⋆ a/n: not proofread!

ken lives in my head rent free rn- also this is my first writing in a long time so this might not be the best sorry-.

⋆ When he first saw you arriving to Barbie Land was with your beautiful sparkly horse.

⋆ He thought you looked so good on your outfit! He wanted to go and put on his cowboy outfit so bad.

⋆ One time, he saw your striking horse standing alone, no sight of you near it. He took the chance and waited for you there while petting your horse.

⋆ -“Well, hello there, Ken” you said while walking closer to him, giving him a bright smile.

⋆ - “Hi Barbie!” he said with his characteristically smile and excitement in his sweet voice, while still stroking your horse softly.

⋆ You took notice of that -“You like horses?”

⋆ -“Horses are AMAZING” he said even with more excitement.

⋆ -“I see” you laughed softly because of his attitude. 

⋆ He looked at you with the softest eyes you had ever seen, like if they carried so much love and care.

⋆ And you had an idea then. -“Hey, would you like to go to my dream farm house, I got more horses there, and I could use so help to feed them all”.

⋆ He felt like if all his wishes had come true, or at least some of them.

⋆ He gladdly accepted, and so you got on your special horse and he sat behind you, hugging your waist.

⋆ You rode out of the city and got to a big farm with a stunning mansion and a big stable.

⋆ He finally had a real best day ever, before all he nedeed was a look from Stereotypical Barbie; but then when he met you, everything just felt even more right.

⋆ Months went by and the two of you become super really close. Every other Barbie, Ken and also Allan took quick notice of that.

⋆ You two had a thing going, at least you thought that. You knew, from what other Barbies and Allan told you, about Ken’s big crush on Stereo Barbie, but how she didn’t feel the same way. But did he keep having those feelings towards her?

⋆ Hopefully, when you were hanging out with Ken one day he asked you out, making all your worries go away.

⋆ The two of you were on a date he planned with all his heart, he wanted this to be THE perfect date. He told you to get Starry, your ultimate spacial horse, and guided the two of you to a super special location on the beach. After a while, with all of his courage asked you -“Would you like us to be girlfriend and boyfriend?” while closing his eyes and crossing his fingers. When you said yes, he asked for permission to kiss you, and you answered by graving him softly by his cheeks and giving him a sweet long kiss.

⋆ He plans the best dates ever. Picnics, horse rides together, beach days, and many cute things.

⋆ He’s literally such a sweetheart. Whenever he’s with you -which is all the time now-, he makes sure to have all your favorite things at hand and also things for Starry.

⋆ He spends a lot of time in your house; he visits you every day now that you are together.

⋆ He helps you out feeding and taking care of the horses, and of course you have a great time as well since he’s really good at it and he’s a great company as well.

⋆ He makes sure to have matching outfits with you, always.

⋆ He cried hard when, after a while, you asked him to move in into your ‘farm’.

⋆ He took a full sense of responsability to take care of the house and the horses.

⋆ He just wants to show you how much he appreciates what you have done for him. After all, you gave him all he could wish for: love, a place to call home, and horses<3.

❥ 𝖱𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽. || 𝖣𝖮 𝖭𝖮𝖳 𝖱𝖤𝖯𝖮𝖲𝖳/𝖳𝖱𝖠𝖭𝖲𝖫𝖠𝖳𝖤.

[icyg4l]

PAC: How Can You Attract Your Lover: Queer Edition

Hello beautiful people! Today marks the last Friday that I will be posting for a while. However, I’ll still be here for the remainder of the weekend. If you would like to purchase a reading, please message me privately. Today’s reading is the last post regarding Pride Month. Thank you all for supporting me financially and content-wise. It is much appreciated. Without further ado, please select your pile.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: You’re not boring at all, Pile One. You are just very particular with the way that you want things. You may feel like your love life is an “abomination” right now but it’s not. You are fixed in your conviction of what love looks like for you. However, you need to open your eyes. Love will not find its way to you if you keep trying to manipulate the situation. Keep an open mind of what’s out there. Be open to flings and short-term romances. In my mind’s eye, I am seeing a butterfly open its wings, getting ready to fly. I heard the “Empire State Building”. If you have been thinking of taking a weekend trip to New York or New Orleans, then you should do so. You will meet someone there. This person has a Coca-Cola smile and piercing eyes waiting for you to arrive.

Who: This person is tall, not average tall either. They’re abnormally tall. They’re into anime/cartoons. They have distinctive features as well. They are fluent in French. This person could be into watching cooking shows/MTV. They are sensual and suave. They are intuitive, very in touch with themselves. They could wear a dangly earring. They could definitely live in New York or have an obsession with “The Big Apple”. They could have ties to the military. They are quick-moving. They like to flirt with others. They love to smoke, and they have an oral fixation.

Cards Used: The Tower, Five of Swords, Page of Wands, Judgment, The Star, Eight of Wands, Nine of Wands, Queen of Cups, Queen of Wands.

Pile Two: You need to stop being so uptight! Let loose and groove a little bit, Pile Two. You need to go out dancing with your friends. You will enjoy it there. You will meet someone there who catches your attention. They will be watching you from afar. I am seeing the Barbie movie dance scene, where everyone is having a good time until Barbie starts having an existential crisis. Your boredom is preventing you from seeing how good you really have it. You have the gift of gab so use it! It is also easy for you to manifest through the utilization of your physical body, if you know what I mean. So, if you wanna manifest using the ‘o’ method, DO IT!!! Start doing things that you would typically shy away from. Aim to step away from the crowd.

Who: This person is a little younger than you. They could be on the petite side. They have a cockiness to them that can’t be turned off. They could own a motorcycle. They have impulse issues/have ADHD/ADD. They like to do things quick and fast. They move and talk like they have somewhere to be. They could have long fingernails (stilettos, if acrylic). They could have some sort of connection to Cardi B/Left Eye. They have a dream where they’re the head of the spaceship; they want to pioneer a project. They are extra-terrestrial simply put.

Cards Used: Strength, Eight of Cups, The Sun, Four of Cups, Six of Pentacles, Three of Wands, Queen of Pentacles, The Empress, Eight of Wands, Page of Swords, Six of Wands.

Pile Three: It feels as though you are healing from a past heartbreak. Give yourself time to move past that situation, Pile Three. Sit in the discomfort. Trying to avoid it will not make the time pass by quicker. You need to lick your wounds. If anyone tries to artificially speed up your process of healing, do not hesitate to cut them off. You need to take this time of seclusion to sit with yourself and ask: “How can things be different the next time around”? Forgive yourself for allowing the mistreatment. You have a long road to go down on this journey of self-forgiveness babe. Hug yourself but also hold yourself accountable. You need to do some serious shadow work, Pile Three.

Who: They have a lot of tattoos. Their eyes are warm and dreamy. They have luscious hair. They could like the movie ‘Mean Girls’. They take a lot of pride in being your partner. They stand on business. They have a good relationship with their father. Dignity, pride, sensibility are words that come up to align them with. They have good manners. They could be kind of cold, at first but don’t judge a book by its cover. This person is drop dead gorgeous, no matter what their gender is. They have a tender heart. They like to move with a purpose. They are calculated, and value their time and money. This person is marriage material.

Cards Used: Seven of Swords, The Chariot, The High Priestess, The Devil, The Emperor, Ten of Swords, King of Cups, Knight of Swords, Knight of Cups, Two of Cups, King of Pentacles, King of Swords.

Pile Four: I can tell that you just need a break, Pile Four. You need to go and move on from whatever has been affecting you negatively (emphasis on the has been). Let bygones be bygones. Air out your grievances. You will feel much lighter. Send that text message you’ve been meaning to send. Reconcile with that person you’ve been pondering on letting back in. There’s dead weight on you. Let it go. You would benefit a lot from twerking/whining/moving your hips. Let it all out. Even if you do something you regret, so what? We’re all human. Just live your life, babe.

Who: This is someone you have a spiritual connection with. It could be karmic. This person is not naive. They know a lot about religion or spirituality. They are big on tradition. They want marriage; a traditional wedding to be exact. They could be going through a time of abstinence right now. They have a masculine flair to them. This person could have multiple ear piercings and/or an eyebrow piercing. They are intimidating, but they are fun to be around once you get to know them. This person is well-respected and adored by many. They are psychic, and proud of it. And, they take their job seriously.

Cards Used: Eight of Cups, Queen of Cups, The Sun, The Empress, Knight of Wands, Page of Pentacles, The High Priestess, King of Wands, The Hierophant.

[secret77778888]

LUKOLA FANDOM: The bad and the ugly

DISCLAIMER: This is LUKOLALAND only. Skip this if you're not a shipper. This is only my point of view. No harm intended

Luke

Luke has recently found himself at the center of an undeserved hate campaign. Luke is not only a talented actor but also a genuinely kind and down-to-earth person. Those who know him personally often speak highly of his warmth, and strong work ethic. His colleagues frequently commend his positive attitude on set, his dedication to his craft, and his ability to bring a nuanced, relatable charm to his characters.

Despite this, Luke has been unfairly criticized for a range of baseless reasons. One of the most prominent accusations involves "Papgate," where he was allegedly involved in a publicity stunt that some claim detracted from the show's success. However, it's important to recognize that Luke has always been committed to the success of Bridgerton. As a professional, he understands the importance of the show's reputation and would never intentionally jeopardize it. A professional PR team would never have advised Luke to engage in such a stunt, especially given that there was no pressing need or benefit in doing so, after all, the hard launch has yet to occur. It's clear that Luke genuinely admires his good pal Nicola and values their relationship too much to have intentionally ruined their night. The lack of evidence to support these accusations further highlights the unfair nature of this criticism. His hard work and talent should be celebrated, not overshadowed by baseless accusations.

Another point of contention has been Luke's personal life, with some fans unfairly speculating and judging his choices. However, Luke, like anyone, has the right to live his life privately and without undue scrutiny. We might raise an eyebrow at some of Luke's associations and choices, but that's something we can ponder in the privacy of our Lukolaland without spreading negativity. Luke wasn’t jobless; he was taking a well-deserved vacation after months of hard work with his friends before returning to work in August, just like many do. There's nothing out of the ordinary here. It’s important to remember that we don’t have all the details, so we shouldn’t be quick to judge without knowing the full story. I trust that both Luke and Nicola will navigate this situation wisely and come through just fine. He has conducted himself with integrity, and the assumptions made about his relationships are purely speculative and often harmful. It’s wrong to attack him, his family and friends.

Luke Newton is a promising young actor with a bright future ahead of him. Beyond his undeniable talent, he is known for his kindness, and humility. Luke has always been a good-looking guy, though attraction is subjective. If he’s not your type, that’s fine, but many others do find him attractive, and it doesn’t make sense to broadcast your disinterest across Lukolaland. If you’re not a fan, simply move on without trying to ruin it for others. What truly matters is the work he’s done. Luke plays Colin with skill, bringing depth, relevance, and nuance to the role, with a performance that is both detailed and deeply empathetic. If his performance wasn’t to your taste, feel free to critique it constructively, but keep the focus on his acting. Luke is talented, passionate, and generous, and those who know him appreciate and love him for that. Even his Barbie, I mean-his costar, Nicola has nothing but kind words to say about him. While fans may have opinions, it is important to approach these with empathy and respect, rather than extending unwarranted criticism.

Nicola

I've come across articles and comments that unfairly critique Nicola’s appearance, suggesting she isn’t attractive enough due to her so-called "average" or "oversized" body. The only thing average about her body is that it fits an average size. Let's set the record straight: Nicola is neither fat nor skinny, she’s simply herself. And let's stop equating body size with beauty. Fat people can be stunning, just as skinny people can be less so; it's a fact of life. To claim she doesn't meet certain standards of beauty is not only incorrect but downright absurd. Have you seen her? She is a definition of beauty, both inside and out. Her radiance is undeniable, fitting most conventional beauty standards effortlessly with her baby blue eyes. She embodies all the qualities we value collectively in terms of feminine beauty and her body is a Roman empire.

While you might not personally be attracted to her, that view is far from the majority. Nicola outshines 99% of the population, and among the remaining 1%, she’s in the top tier, thanks to the beauty that comes from within. Her intelligence, brightness, and wisdom add to her allure, making her truly captivating. It's absurd to claim that Luke isn't attracted to Nicola simply because she doesn't fit someone's narrow idea of "his type." Attraction is highly personal and goes far beyond superficial traits. Luke and Nicola share an evident deep connection that likely transcends physical appearance, focusing more on personality, shared values, and mutual respect. Moreover, the idea that Luke wouldn’t be attracted to someone as radiant, talented, and charming as Nicola is equally baseless, if anything, she embodies qualities that many find irresistibly attractive. And we have no definitive idea of what "his type" is as both of his exes looked different and the only trait that they have in common is that they’re attractive talented genuine and kind women who are actresses; Its therefore not wrong to assume that Nicola could fit that description and not the contrary. Just as some may assume Nicola isn't his type, the reverse could be just as true, maybe she is not attracted to tall, dark and handsome men with a remarkable shade of blue eyes, which only underscores how irrelevant these superficial judgments are. Nicola is human, at least I think that she is, and like all of us, she might make mistakes. But unlike many, she is thoughtful and deliberate in her life choices. Nicola has every right to choose her own partner, and while we may wish otherwise, that decision is hers alone. She’s independent and career-driven, and she’s certainly not desperately waiting around for just anyone, only for the one who truly makes a difference in her life. That’s likely why she hasn’t publicly claimed anyone yet. Thankfully, we can trust her judgment, as she knows best who brings happiness and adds value to her life.

Tifaine

Within the Lukola fandom, some creators have been unfairly attacked for their dedication and hard work. Tifaine, in particular, has faced criticism despite her contributions to the community. While it may seem unusual to outsiders that grown people dedicate so much time to shipping real people, it is essential to understand that this community is built on love and admiration, not harm. The only people who have the right to criticize this are Luke and Nicola themselves, and they have expressed appreciation for the support they receive from fans. If Nicola or Luke ever express discomfort or a desire to reassess those boundaries, most of us would comply or, would stop because, contrary to popular belief, we are functioning adults with full lives.

Tifaine's work in the fandom has been invaluable, and while disagreements may arise, it is important to recognize the effort and passion she brings to the community.She has certainly sacrificed time, money for the cause and she puts herself out there which attracts a lot of negativity. Based on my understanding, she was merely presenting facts mostly well-known and non-detrimental ones that do not undermine what’s happening between the two leads. She has consistently shown that she cares deeply for both of them and genuinely wishes for their success, whether individually or together. I trust her intentions and appreciate the significant effort she has put into her work, which is far from negligible. Her dedication is commendable, and her contributions have helped create a space where fans can come together to celebrate the love and success of Luke and Nicola.

In conclusion, I believe that the recent wave of negativity in the community is both unwarranted and harmful and frankly quite counterproductive. And if none of them is above criticism, it is crucial to remember that behind the screens they are real people deserving of respect and kindness. As fans, our role should be to support and uplift, not tear down. By fostering a community built on love and understanding, we can ensure that the fandom remains a positive and welcoming space.

[himbofan]

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

heyyyyy y'all sorry for being MIA for months... but don't worry you can't get rid of me that easily >:)

ODASAKU!!! i just love this man so much.... we have been married for 20 years and i wanted to share some of the things oda would do as ur boyfriend cuz he's perfect boyfriend material <33333

i have a lot of bsd ideas and things i wanna write too so never be afraid to slide in my inbox and tell me what u wanna see :3 i love to yap about 2D men :333 anywayzzzz hope u enjoy!! likes and reblogs always appreciated <3333 🫶 (this is like my fourth time posting this, pls show up in the tags this time 😭😭)

wc: 300+

characters: sakunosuke oda

cw: gn!reader, tooth rotting fluff

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

…remember tiny things about you, from your favorite coffee order to which side of the bed you like to sleep on. even the most minute and menial details are etched into his mind. don’t like tomatoes on your sandwich? don’t worry, you’ll never have to ask him to change it again, he’ll always make sure you never have tomatoes.

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

…watch every video you send him beginning to end without skipping, anything from a 10 second funny cat tiktok or a 2 minute youtube video explanation about the life cycle of shrimp. he’ll respond with a “👍” or “Lol.” every time.

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

…always agree to matching halloween costumes with you, even if they’re silly. he doesn’t really have a strong opinion about what he wears, he just likes to see you excited. last year y’all went as barbenheimer but he was barbie and you were oppenheimer. (he had a blast)

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

…listen every time you rant about annoying coworkers or classmates. even though he looks uninterested, he’s actually listening carefully, even if he doesn’t know who you’re talking about he just likes to hear how you feel and think. he's an excellent listener and loves to hear you talk because he likes the sound of your voice :)

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

…attract animals for seemingly no reason. whenever you’re out and about in the city, he never fails to have a stray cat appear and rub up against his legs, or a squirrel cautiously approach him begging for food. his aura is so comforting and secure, he’s basically an urban disney princess.

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

…let you pluck his eyebrows and have self care nights with clay masks and fuzzy hair bands. he doesn’t really know what’s going on but he lets you pamper him with products because he loves to spend time with you and see you smile. :)

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

…slow dance with you in the living room, kitchen, hallway, or anywhere the mood strikes you. he loves seeing the beauty in the mundane domestic moments, it reminds him that your shared love is unconditional.

sakunosuke oda is the type of boyfriend to….

…stare at your face while you’re sleeping. he wants to memorize every feature and shape, silently admiring how the rays of light dance off of your skin in the early morning. even if you’re snoring or drooling, he’ll always think it’s adorable because you’re the most beautiful thing in his life.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

HCs: Stereotypical Barbie, Beach Ken, & Allan reacting to their S/O dressing up as them for Halloween

Note: Made this a little bit "meta" (and by that I mean the characters are aware that their outfits exist as marketable costumes in the Real World).

........

Stereotypical Barbie

Among the many things she learned (and is still learning) about the Real World, it's that the "glorification of rampant consumerism" went beyond her toyline and made a LOT of sense during Halloween.

She never expected to see her western, jumpsuit, and gingham outfits stuffed into bags when you both visit a Spirit Halloween store (although it was neat seeing an entire section dedicated to Barbie).

And she was especially surprised to learn that "Barbie and Ken" were gonna be one of the most popular couples' costumes this year (it's a little awkward for her since she's not with Ken anymore, but she won't complain much).

Speaking of costumes, she never understood why so many of them had to be bloody and scary--or cute, bloody, and scary all rolled into one.

She'll quickly gloss over them and hurry back to the cute costumes, often tugging you along with her before you can protest.

Compared to Barbieland, Halloween is...definitely celebrated differently here.

She still doesn't get why humans would wanna buy fake severed limbs for decorations, nor why they created such scary lifelike robots.

But she does a total 180 when a girl dressed up in her western outfit passes her by on Halloween night, saying "Hi Barbie" with such a big smile on her face.

Suddenly, she likes this holiday a little bit better, especially after seeing other ladies posting their own Barbie-inspired Halloween costumes on social media.

It's the scariest season, and yet there's so much joy going around as she realizes women are still coming together and lifting each other up!

Her happiness only grows when she arrives at your doorstep with candy, and you surprise her by dressing up as a Barbie yourself!

When she realizes you chose one of her outfits specifically, she can't stop gushing over you.

It's touching, especially since she wasn't really a "remarkable" Barbie doll; you literally could have picked any other doll's outfit to inspire your costume...

And yet out of all of them, you wanted to be her.

It genuinely made her feel special and so so loved.

Beach Ken

Like Barbie, he had very different expectations of Halloween.

He learned men were usually the ones who "protected" their partners from the scary stuff. So he tries his best.

Yet he's always the one curling up in your lap and/or hiding his face whenever a mild jumpscare happens in a movie.

But he loves loves loves dressing up for the holiday and decorating (although at times he forgets and will accidentally scare himself if he bumps into the decor--ie hanging bats).

He insists on being a cowboy this year (toy horse stick included) and reaaaally hopes you'll match with him.

Instead, you have a better idea and surprise him by your costume:

It's him!

Or more specifically one of his outfits (beach, dance party, rollerblade, western, kenough hoodie, etc.) that you either picked up online or handcrafted yourself over the course of several months/weeks.

Regardless, he's gonna cry when he realizes that you chose to dress up as him, of all people.

For the longest time, Ken looked towards other people for inspiration, especially when he first learned about the patriarchy.

But to learn that he's YOUR inspiration???

He feels like the luckiest man/doll alive.

Hell, you wore his outfit better than him somehow.

When you both are walking up and down the street, he's delighted seeing other people dressed in his western or rollerblade outfits (never mind them being so cheaply-made and mass produced), glad that the Real World's starting to appreciate Ken again.

But compared to you?

You were a ten.

Allan

He was sorta adamant towards Halloween, at first.

If anything, he worries for your sanity (and perhaps humanity's sanity as a whole) after you showed him some classic horror movies.

Poor guy is just baffled as to why anybody would like seeing that kind of stuff...and how it doesn't keep them wide awake at night.

But once you tell Allan about all the other customs and traditions, he partakes in them--although anything involving blood is a no-go for him.

On Halloween night, you both agree to just kick back and hand out candy to trick-or-treaters.

His "costume" is the outfit he usually had on in Barbieland, but he's worried that it pales in comparison to whatever you're planning to wear.

All you said over text was that it's a "big surprise", so he's anxious to see it.

He's well aware of Barbie and Ken having their own costumes, and he tries not to sulk about there being no Allan costumes in this world.

Yet when he opens the door, he nearly drops the candy bowl upon seeing you wearing a similarly striped shirt, shorts, and sandals.

You decided to dress up as him!! As an Allan doll!!

Now he finally realizes why you've spent hours couped up in your room.

There's a good chance he's gonna get all weepy over this (and frantically claim that it's allergies when a few concerned trick-or-treaters come up to the door a minute later).

But now he takes back whatever he said about nobody in the Real World caring about Allan.

Because you cared.

[rollingsins]

all hers, part vi

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary:  For as long as Tara could remember, she’d had this thing inside her. Ghostface!Tara origin story. 

warnings: 18+ reference to murder.

word count: 2.6k

a/n: sorry this one took so long, appreciate all the love for this fic! let me know what you want to see next, looking to maybe take some more smutty suggestions for gf!tara ;) 

For as long as Tara could remember, she’d had this thing inside her. 

This hot, horrible, blackout anger that lived in her bones. Lurking just under the surface. It left her in shivers, cold sweats. It left her aching, panting. There was nothing quite like it. 

Her Dad used to call it “The Rage”. 

“Get a handle on The Rage, Tara.” He’d warn before dropping her off at school, “Remember. It’s just an emotion. Like any other emotion. You can control it.” 

He was wrong, Tara couldn’t control it. No matter how hard she tried.

She couldn’t control it the day Peter Millwood stole her crayons. She’d whacked him across the face with her ruler with all the might of a four year old girl. Might have done worse had Mrs. Parker not frog-marched her straight to the Principal’s office. 

She couldn’t control it the night her older sister Sam had stolen her barbie when she was six. She’d wrapped her hands around Sam’s throat, choking, choking, choking until Sam was screaming and her mother was prying her off and smacking her so hard over the backside it left angry, red welts for days. 

Her childhood was scattered with incidents like that. Possessive. Child councilors had whispered to her father. Doesn’t share well with others. 

They’d prescribed therapy sessions, pills that made her so sleepy she couldn’t concentrate in class. Her Dad hung up a poster on the back of her door; a picture of a thermometer. A sliding scale of five numbers: one, a little picture of a cartoon boy smiling, was happy. Five was a little old man, scowling and angry. 

She’d gone to their sessions over and over. Their words in one ear and out the other. Nothing they said ever worked. “Five.” She’d growled at her father in the backseat of the car on the way home from a soccer match. A girl from the other team had tried to take the ball from her. The coach had stopped Tara before she could tackle her to the ground. 

“One.” She’d announced happily sitting in the nurse's office after recess with a swollen hand. A boy much bigger than her had tried to bully her out of her lunch money. Tara had punched him square in the jaw. 

Months flew by. Tara watched as her father turmoiled; no pill, no therapy session could fix her. 

The night before Tara turned thirteen, her father walked out on them. 

Sam blamed herself, but Tara knew the truth. It was her. It was the Rage. He’d spent every spare dime he had trying to fix her but it was impossible. She was a lost cause, after thirteen years, he’d finally figured it out. 

Her mom seemed to think so too. She buried herself in work, business trips, vacations, boyfriends. Anything that kept her away from Woodsboro. Away from Tara. 

Tara cried herself to sleep for two months straight the night he left. 

The Rage had cost her a father, a mother and a sister. It wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t like the things it made her do. It was like this thing inside of her that took over. Like a demon, swallowing her whole. It was angry, violent. It wanted to hurt. 

And nothing or no-one could help her. 

Sam moved out. Tara learned to spend her nights alone. She taught herself how to make simple foods, like pasta and steak. Her Dad hadn’t taken much when he’d left, so Tara worked her way through his film collection. She didn’t care much for the westerns, or the gangster flicks. She scrunched her nose up at the heist films and the rom-coms. But the horror movies? It was love at first sight. 

She worked her way through the Halloween movies first. Then Nightmare on Elm Street. Texas Chainsaw Massacre. 

Finally, came the Stab movies. 

She’d grown up in Woodboro, she’d heard the stories about Ghostface. 

Stupid name, she’d first thought. Stupider mask. 

But the more she watched the more he grew on her. He began to fascinate her. His motives were always asinine, much like The Rage. The hairs on the back of her neck stuck up at every kill. She became obsessed. First it was the movies, then it was the books. She read every article, spent countless hours on youtube - interviews, theories, facts. She watched them all. 

By the time she’d finished middle school, Tara could recite every stab movie by heart. Better than that -  her focus on the Stab movies meant The Rage had finally lessened. 

She didn’t flip out about trivial things anymore, like someone borrowing a pen, or eating her last stick of gum. Instead, she pictured herself in a Ghostface mask. The blade between her fingertips as she drove the knife deep into said pen-thieving, gum-stealer’s chest. 

Then it had been enough. Just the thought of doing it. Back when she didn’t have anything worth stealing. 

And then she met you. 

It was like fate, kismet. Just like all the tales in all the stupid rom-coms she couldn’t stand to watch. 

She’d been sitting in biology class, doodling in the line of her margin. When she’d looked up, you were there. Beautiful, ethereal. Her heart had almost stopped the moment you’d locked eyes. 

She knew right then and there you were destined to be hers. The Rage purred. It coiled from her around you like an invisible string, tying your fates together. 

The next day she’d asked you out. The next week she’d kissed you, soft and slow, under the gentle hum of your porchlight. And the week after that you were hers. Officially. 

It was perfect. You were perfect. 

Her special, perfect thing. 

Instead of lonely nights on the couch, watching movies by herself, you were there. 

She cooked for you, made you all the recipes she’d spent her early teens learning. Showed you all her favorite horror movies. Spent nights on nights making feverish love to each other. She was your first, and you were hers. Not two months in, naked and entwined, she told you she loved you for the first time.

She was completely and utterly enamored with you. 

“Tell me about your first kiss.” You had whispered one night, laid across from her on the sofa. 

Tara’s first kiss had been awful. With a boy from middle school who hadn’t bothered to take his gum out. You’d giggled at that. 

And then she’d made a colossal mistake: she’d asked you about yours.

Aaron was his name, you’d recalled. He was cute. He’d made your stomach flip. Sometimes you’d see him in the halls. He had long hair now, and he didn’t really look too dissimilar to Tara.  You’d told her so. Nudged your elbow in her stomach. 

“Maybe I have a type.” 

Tara had felt herself get light-headed. Her mouth prickled uncomfortably. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. 

Her heart hammered. White hot jealousy coiled through her veins. Her stomach dropped; It was back, worse than she’d ever felt it before. She could feel The Rage taking over. 

Not at you, never at you. 

Aaron. Some punk kid with long hair who had dared touch you before she even knew you. 

Her hands itched, she’d needed to hurt something. Someone. Aaron perhaps. 

She imagined him under her, screaming out as she drove her knife into his throat.

“You okay, baby?” You’d asked. Your hands on her back, rubbing softly, “I was just kidding.” You leaned in, pressed a kiss to her cheek, “You’re way cuter than Aaron.” 

Tara had kissed you hard. Shelved The Rage. 

The Rage had ruined everything good in her life, it wasn’t about to take you as well. She’d do everything in her power to protect you from it. 

English class. Her knee was bouncing. 

Withdrawal maybe, from you. It was the only class you didn’t share together. You’d been dating for months now, barely a moment without her. Everyday you were hers, The Rage got stronger. 

It wasn’t just Aaron. You’d had a girlfriend before her, Sadie. You still shared a class together. The Rage wanted her gone, just like Aaron. Your best friend, Chase, watched you with moon eyes. You never noticed but Tara did. The Rage did. It coiled inside her, beating its fists against her chest, screaming to be let out. 

She was pale today, dark circles underneath her eyes. She hadn’t slept a wink. She’d held you tight all night, gripping you as if Aaron or Sadie or Chase was about to break in and steal you from her. 

Over her dead body. 

In fact she was so exhausted, she’d thought she’d imagined it when she heard the boys two rows in front of her saying your name. She tilted her head, listened a little harder. 

“YN. I have Math with her.” Sounded one of the boys. The other one groaned. “Lucky, dude.” 

“Tell me about it. She’s so fucking hot.” 

Tara leaned in. Gripped her pencil so hard it snapped. The blood rushed to her ears as she felt The Rage taking over. 

“I might try to hit that this weekend. She’s always at Freeman’s parties.” 

The other boy had scoffed. “Dude. She’s with Tara Carpenter. Good fucking luck.” 

“Please.” Leered the first boy, “Chicks dating chicks is hot and all, but I bet she’s missing the D. All it would take is a couple of drinks and she’ll be all over me.” 

He had leaned back in his chair with all the swagger of an eighteen year old virgin. 

“Besides. Who knows. Carpenter’s pretty hot too. Maybe she’ll join in.” 

Tara didn’t remember getting home.

She was shaking. Blood rushing to her ears. She’d got into the shower, fully clothed. Turned on the facet, straight to cold, hoping she could shock it out of her system. 

One, two, three. The breathing exercises her Dad had taught her. 

Five, five, five. Kill him, kill him, kill him. 

It had never been this strong before. This wild. When she was a child she’d wanted to hurt, sure. She’d want to punch, or kick, or choke. In her fantasies she stabbed people - but it wasn’t real, it was just a daydream. This time, she’d wanted to kill him. A fantasy wasn’t enough. 

One. Two. Three. 

The cold water wasn’t working. She turned it to hot. Let the water scald her skin. 

One. Two. Three. 

She let out a long, dry sob. It felt like her insides were burning. Rage filled every part of her - from the painful throb of her chest to the fire-like blood flowing through her veins. She could feel her cheeks red, angry. 

One. Two. Three. 

“Baby?” Her head jerked up. It was you. You pried open the bathroom door. 

“Tara?” You stared for a moment. 

She looked a sight. Fully clothed, shoes and all, sat at the bottom of the shower dry heaving. 

You were at her side in an instant. 

“Baby.” You’d cooed as you pulled her to her feet, “What happened?” 

The Rage pounded at her chest, like angry fists trying to claw through her ribcage. She could barely speak. You had turned off the facet, pulled her soaking body into yours. 

“Come on, baby. Let's get you out of these wet clothes.” 

You wrapped her in a towel, dropping to your knees to untie her shoes. She stood, soaking wet and shivering as you pulled jeans down her legs. 

“You’re freezing.” You’d said. Wrapped her tight in your arms. Her body was shaking, but it wasn't because of the cold. If anything, she felt too hot. You had rubbed her arms, kissed her forehead. She’d buried her face in your chest, her hands gripping tight around your waist. 

Mine. The Rage growled. You’re mine. 

You’d fussed over her. Drying her hair with a towel, trying to coax her into bed. 

When you’d leaned over her, pulling the sheets up to her neck, she had grabbed you by the wrist. 

“YN.” She murmured, “YN. Baby.”

“It’s all right, sweetheart.” You had said, “I’m here. I’m just going to get you a hot water bottle and then I’ll be right back-”

Tara shook her head, tugging you down a little harder. 

You let out a quiet gasp as she grabbed you by the hips, pulled you down to her. 

“Shhh.” She’d murmured. Wild eyes. “I need to fuck you. Now. Please.” 

You hadn’t put up much of a protest. She was feverish. Angry. Rough. Each thrust of her hips sent shockwaves through your entire body. 

“Mine.” She had growled in your ear as you came hard around her fingers. 

But not even fucking you could satiate The Rage. It thumped, still there, ever present. It was tormenting her. Flashes of you on your back, the boy from biology thrusting deep inside you. Another flash, you on your hands and knees, him pounding you into the mattress. It made her sick. It made her hands itch with anger. 

It’s you or him. The Rage sing-songed at her. Stick your knife in him before he can stick his cock in her. 

Your fingers on her cheek had snapped her out of it, only for a moment. 

“Tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart.” You’d said. “Where did that come from?” 

She’d looked down at you: lips swollen from her wild kisses. Angry red marks on your hips from where she’d grabbed you and held you down. She’d swallowed hard. She knew what she had to do. 

“Don’t worry.” She’d said. Pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, “I had a problem. But I think I know how to fix it.” 

She’d dropped you home later that night.

Then, she drove into town and bought herself a Ghostface mask. 

-

She was spiraling. 

She could feel it, thrumming, taking over. She was losing control. 

The first murder was sweet relief. She hadn’t meant to kill two of them. Dan was his name, the awful boy who had plotted to get you drunk and steal you from her. She’d been halfway through tearing her dagger down his stomach when his older brother had walked in. 

She’d had to kill him too. No witnesses. She did it quick, felt kind of bad about it afterwards. 

The boost of serotonin at the look on Dan’s face when she’d driven her knife into his stomach more than made up for it. 

For the first time in her life The Rage was satisfied. 

But it wasn’t to last. It itched at her, the fact there were still people out there that had known the taste of your lips on their mouths. The Rage wanted them dead. Tara wanted them dead. Ghostface wanted them dead. 

It was far too much to fight off her natural instincts. She was tired of fighting it. Exhausted. Now she’d known the feeling of her knife sinking deep into someone’s flesh, she didn’t think she could stop it even if she tried. 

Aaron was next. She’d slit his throat while he begged for mercy. 

Then Sadie. She’d stabbed her twelve times in the back. Once for every day you’d been hers. 

Then Chase was all that was left. 

And the worst had happened. 

“Don’t be scared.” She’d murmured as you stared back at her, eyes wide and fearful. Lip trembling. Chase’s blood still dripping off her hands,  “I would never hurt you.” 

It was true. She’d never hurt you. Not even if you had run from her that night. Not even if you'd called the police. She’d turn her knife and drive it through her own heart before she’d ever lay a finger on you. 

But you hadn’t run. You’d stayed, loved her despite the monster that lived inside her. 

The Rage had taken everyone else, but not you. 

Mine. It murmured everytime she was close to you. Sometimes she’d say it aloud. You’d nestle into her, hold her tight. 

Yours. 

Next part