#but I genuinely believe they have a decent shot

[violent138]

Superbat parenting babies would be a breeze in my humble opinion. Bruce's medically well-versed enough and immune to even enhanced interrogation levels of sleeplessness, and loves kids and would probably be happy reading them stories to sleep every night.

And Clark could always tell if the kid swallowed fridge magnets/batteries/something else. Also, tell me which baby wouldn't enjoy Clark's presence and calmness. They'd be like little hamsters cajoled by the steadiness of his hold.

[eddiernunson]

The Splash of Rain on the Roof | Eddie Munson x f!Reader | 18+

Thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, always there for me, bestie.

Also to @bebe07011 for reading everything before I post and giving me feed back. Love ya.

Summary: you're best friends with Eddie Munson after moving to Hawkins, the new girl who ditches the cheerleaders for the Freaks. A year later, you've fallen head over heels for him, and you're convinced there's no way he has any interest in you. It finally seems confirmed when you find out (more or less) that he's into a fucking cheerleader. Your heart breaks.

Warnings: (idiots) best friends to lovers, dork!reader, virgin!eddie and virgin!reader (its cute, ok), kinda slow, no protection, creampie, praise/degradation, minor miscommunication trope, sleepy 5am writing, first I love yous

I have another one shot planned, it's about 3/4 done.

Word count: 11k

-

As any first day at Hawkins High in the middle of the semester goes, you had a fairly decent one. A cheerleader spotted you in her class and dragged you over to her table, a parade of jocks and cheerleaders surrounding it. You wondered if their insistence was genuine, and you let yourself believe it. Until their true colours were shown through a nasty gossip session.

For the most part, they all had kind things to say about one another. They encouraged each other and asked how your day was so far. Did it count as false advertising if fake friends show their real colours? If anything, you were grateful they were so quick about it. You barely had a chance to memorize their names when one of them broke out in an overdramatic bellow in disgust. Your interest piqued, nearly drowning in their dull conversations, no matter how polite.

You followed the curly haired boys’ line of sight across the cafeteria to a group of boys laughing louder than the rest of the school. They looked carefree and like they were enjoying themselves. You envied them. Your eyes switched back to your new supposed friends, afraid of what exactly was so worthy of their collective disgust.

Their immediate round of insults to the harmless group of boys left the worst taste in your mouth. After the three or four people had their say, you got up without another word.

“Wait! Where you going?” Called the girl who escorted you to the table.

“Anywhere but here.” You answered, having understood immediately what kind of group of people she associated herself with.

She had plenty more to say, but you didn’t hear another word. You were far too busy beelining for the gorgeous man who was at the head of said table. The moment you looked over to them, your vision tunneled. The complaints voiced by the table of Preps seemed to be an extension of their “freakiness”, or so they called it, which you deduced was just another word for “dork”.

Little did they know, you are also a dork.

So, the table you had just ditched watched in horror as you walked straight to the table and immediately sat down with them.

Turns out the gorgeous man was as kind as he was good-looking.

-

It’s been over a year since you started at Hawkins, over a year of friendship with Eddie Munson, said gorgeous man. What’s even worse, he’s better than you had expected him to be. As you settle into the Hellfire Club, adding your own adventurous characters, and contributing to inside jokes, you and Eddie end up closer than you had ever expected.

Unfortunate news is, he has you so far in the friend zone, you’re starting to wonder if even he knows you’re a girl. (With fantastic tits, which he never seems to even look at.)

You’ve spent plenty of nights in a pair of tiny shorts and an oversized top with no bra as you listen to music and smoke a joint with him, hoping over and over that he would just make a move because lord knows you weren’t gonna do it.

The pressure of his hand when it rests on your lower back, the way he curls your hair behind your ear, his breath down your neck when he hugs you, it all sets your skin on fire.

On one night you were terribly upset at your mom after having a fight with her, getting in your car to take the eight-minute drive to his house. You had arrived at his trailer uninvited plenty of times before, Eddie encouraged it once he realized the fights were a regular thing. Only this time, he wasn’t in the living-room watching a scary movie, or in his bedroom listening to records or making a new campaign.

He was in the shower.

At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He’s had plenty of showers while you were over. He’d be stupidly apologetic about it, but if you were to be honest with him, the smell of the body wash that lingered on him was too good to pass up. You grabbed a bag of chips and a soda from his fridge and a beer for him, figuring you’d meet him when he struts out in that low hanging towel. On your way to Eddie’s room, a noise like music hit your ears and the slick beer almost fell out of your hand.

“Uh, uh, oh shit…fuck—” You heard him, loud and clear, a noise you only imagined late at night in your own bedroom. You stood there frozen in the hallway, listening as he fucked his own fist. You listened as his breaths got faster, his whining higher pitched. But no sound could match the divine noise Eddie made as he finished. Your breath hitched then, drool pooling on your tongue as you pictured sticky white ropes all over the shower.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, your panties drenched just from listening to him. You wondered what would’ve happened if your hands were empty. When the shower turned off, your gut swooped, butterflies kicking in as you raced to look casual on his bed. You didn’t have much time to prepare, turning on some music and picking up one of his magazines. Shit, dirty magazine. You quickly adjusted to the next one over, featuring a Metal band on the cover.

As Eddie entered his room, you were laying on the bed looking casual as you could, hoping he didn’t pick up on your heavy breathing. If he did, he didn’t indicate it. As much as you tried, your breathing didn’t slow, your eyes zoned in on the droplets of water dripping down his bare chest, lingering on his treasure trail. He greeted you absentmindedly, picking up a pair of sweats.

That night, you could do nothing but stammer through your sentences, chalking it up to stress from the fight with your mom. He offered you to sleep over, a normal habit you’ve developed, but the itch to slip your fingers down your pants was too much. If you had to face your mom just to get it figured out, so be it.

A switch flipped in you that day, it went from being a schoolgirl crush into a want, no, a need for him.

God, you wish he’d just get a clue…or that’d you get the nerve to make a move.

Something better than this torture.

-

After the third pat on his hand, Eddie finally looked up, wondering why Josh can’t take the hint. “What, what?” He asked, already annoyed at his day as it was. Fucking history teacher…

“New girl.” Josh gestured towards the jock/cheerleader table.

Eddie blinked, questioning why the hell he should be interested in this. The insistence on not just Josh’s face, but the rest of the group convinced Eddie, switching his glance over to the table. You stuck out like a sore thumb, not exactly dressed in their prep uniform. From this single glance, he could tell you were uncomfortable. In any case, neither were most cheerleaders on their first days. Oh well, he figured you would assimilate soon enough. Shame, with how pretty you were.

Soon enough, Eddie’s mood lightened up, amused by the witty banter his friends were spitting back and forth. Something Gareth said ended up being ridiculously funny, a feat that he’s familiar with, and it breaks the entire group into loud laughter, something that obviously disrupts the cafeteria. Eddie didn’t care, and neither did any of the other members of Hellfire. If no one would give them any decency, why the hell would they owe anyone else any?

As always, the laughter invited even more scrutiny. Eddie knew the reaction of the table you sat at, firing off insults surrounding the word freak. If they could just get original content, that would be great, Eddie thought as he looked back down to his notebook of campaign notes. He was in the middle of deciding which book he might need to check out for reference when Josh tapped his hand again, far more aggressively.

“What?” He snapped, but caught wind of what was so urgent immediately.

There you were, walking as if you were strutting a runway to his table. He thought he must’ve had it confused for a second, but after assessing the reaction of your previous table, it couldn’t have been less wrong. Eddie leaned over to the table to his friends, teeth gritted. “Be normal.”

After about ten minutes of awkward conversation, as a last resort you had asked what Eddie was working on. “Oh, the campaign for DnD.”

“Wait, you play DnD?” You asked.

Eddie wasn’t sure if this question was negative or positive. “Yeah, we’re a Dungeons and Dragons club.” Gareth answered for him.

“Oh sweet!” The answer stunned all of them. “Can I join?”

“You play Dungeons and Dragons?” Josh asked incredulously.

“Yeah, my dad taught me.” You replied.

“Drama room, Friday night at 7. Don’t be late.” Eddie said, finally making eye contact with you.

He regretted it from the moment he did. The beauty he saw from afar was only intensified by a hundred. You looked at the table with intrigue, much more interest than you ever showed at the jocks table. Eddie couldn’t believe how wrong he was to assume you would just assimilate with them. You were too good for them.

Wait, you were too good for his club as well, what the hell were you doing there?

-

If Eddie had any current quarrels with the universe, it was that you just kept getting better and better as he got to know you. He was prepared for your level one basic dwarf when you showed up with a level 59 Warlock. You kicked his boss’s ass, carrying the weight of all your co-adventurers.

From there, Eddie swore he must’ve gotten hit in the head somehow, because life just isn’t good for him, never has been. But with you, life is worth tolerating. From the start, he had fallen for you, and he still would have even if you did only have a level one dwarf.

As luck would have it, you would never turn down an offer to hang out with him. The first time he offered, butterflies sat in his gut until he walked up to your locker and offered for you to watch a movie at his house with him. You accepted graciously, asking if he minded you’d watch horror. Internally, Eddie fell to his knees. Externally, he nodded, keeping his eyes on what he called the prettiest damn eyes he’s ever seen.

He felt lucky you accepted his displays of affection with him, leaning heavily into his hugs and letting his legs intertwine with yours. His hair would stand up, your skin setting his on fire.

Lately, though, he could swear something is out to get him. As you started getting more comfortable being at his house so often, you started wearing smaller clothing. First, it started off with a pair of sweats and a messy bun. That tore Eddie farther apart than it should have. It turned into braless shirts and tiny shorts, and Eddie stared at the curve of your ass, usually half hard as you laid on his bed.

The first night he ran to the bathroom to jerk off to the outline of your nipple, he felt like shit, yet he wanted nothing more to mouth at it, to mark it his.

Eddie is so sure you’re innocent of it all, unaware of his lust and feelings for you. It started as feelings, but the lust has started to take over to the point where Eddie has to jerk off before you get there. He knows you’re going to bend over too much as you “help” him with making meals. As of late, the tiny pair of shorts barely conceals the outline of your cunt, something that tugs what could only be described as a whimper out of him, has been becoming all too much.

Eddie realizes he’s gonna have to ask you out.

-

After yet another unsuccessful Saturday night over at Eddie’s house– well, successful in terms of getting you out of your house but unsuccessful in the sense that Eddie just doesn’t seem to see you as a fucking girl– you trade your books to prepare for another boring lecture, watching across the hall as Gareth and Eddie seem to be in humorous conversation, judging on the laughter alone.

Eddie is nodding, appearing to agree exuberantly with what Gareth is saying to him. Might as well kill some time before class starts. You walk over, backpack on one shoulder as the weight from all of your books bounces off the back of one of your thighs. Just as you’re about to interrupt their conversation, Eddie makes eye contact with you. As a reflex, you break into a smile at his dimples. However, Eddie says one last thing to Gareth before walking away from their conversation.

You try not to take it personal. There are several jokes in Hellfire you have learned a long time ago to not take personally. However, this felt personal. Eddie doesn’t usually take part in the jokes at your expense. The boys give you enough crap for him anyways, and he gives them crap, and you give Eddie crap. It’s a wonderful circle of crap, really.

As soon as you approach Gareth, now alone, he gives you a half smile, clearly trying to dissipate from the awkward situation. “Hey,” Gareth greets you, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning onto his locker to seem “casual.”

“What was that about?” You get straight to the point, nodding towards where Eddie had just walked away.

Gareth stutters through his words, adjusting his arms between crossed and placing his hand on his locker. Oh, Gareth, ever so graceful. “I-I-He-he-he just-uh—”

“Gareth!” You interrupt him, knowing he could continue his stammering for a while unless you stop it. “Just tell me!” You shove his shoulder, annoyed already. What reason could Eddie possibly have for taking off like that?

“We were just talking about the girl he likes, is all.” Gareth admits sheepishly, his eyes flicking everywhere but you.

“Oh,” you answer, feeling crestfallen. A girl? Eddie likes a girl? And hasn’t even had the audacity to tell you about it? Were you not his best friend? Maybe he’s your best friend, but you’re not his. You shake off that annoying voice of doubt in your head, knowing on some level it’s irrational. Then why didn’t he tell me anything? “Oh, he’s…never even mentioned a girl around me…”

Gareth knows exactly why you’re crestfallen, your crush on Eddie not the most exact unknown fact in your group of friends. “I don’t know, he doesn’t talk about it a whole lot…” Gareth trails off, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. It wasn’t exactly a lie; Eddie doesn’t talk about his crush on you. He barely mentions it. The only reason anyone in Hellfire knows anything…is because they have eyes.

“Oh. Alright.” You have to get out of this conversation before the tears that crept up behind your eyes make an appearance. “I’ll see you at lunch?” You don’t even wait for a response, already turned around towards a bathroom to get your shit together.

Gareth feels guilty as shit when he sees the way you shuffle off to the bathroom, your sniffles louder than you even realize. In fact, Eddie was just telling Gareth he was finally gaining the courage to ask you out. Unfortunately, your brain has already eliminated this idea altogether.

-

Eddie sits in his usual spot for the lunch period, a foot parked on the edge of the table as he leans back with his arms crossed, observing his friends arguing yet again. Doesn’t really matter what they’re arguing about, never really does. They could be arguing about which album of a certain artist is better, which class of character is better to play, or even which teacher sucks the most in the school.

They’re all pointless, and Eddie always has a final say in who wins the argument. Being the leader has its perks.

Even as he seems casual, he checks his watch occasionally because you’re still not there yet. He looks forward to your presence at the table, to the way you indulge in their idiotic fights, if only for a second. It never fails to amuse him. Usually, as of late, you’ve been picking a side just to piss off Mike, and he still hasn’t seemed to catch on yet.

Right now, Dustin and Mike are arguing over the stupidest thing yet, something not even worth mentioning. Lucas is trying to give his input that this isn’t worth fighting over, but they’re talking over him. Eddie wonders how long he’s going to let them hash it out for.

Gareth rolls his eyes as he watches Eddie’s face lights up as you finally make your way across the cafeteria to the table. You greet the entire table, letting your bag fall to the floor as you rest your chin on your hand.

Dustin immediately attempts to instigate you into the fight. “Hey, can you tell Mike that—”

“No offense, Dustin, but I really don’t care.” You interrupt him, sounding tired. The whole table but Eddie laughs at your answer.

This allows the table to segue into a different conversation, something that everyone can care about. Eddie takes the opportunity to lean in. “Are you not hungry?” He asks lowly, noting the lack of cafeteria tray you have today.

You can barely look him in those gorgeous brown eyes, your heart dropped to your gut the moment you heard he likes someone else. “Not really. Lost my appetite.”

His brows furrow, watching you avoid his eyes and sink into yourself. This was so unlike you. Usually, you’re much surer of yourself, an aura of confidence even he finds himself envious of at times. “Are you okay?” He asks again.

You shrug your shoulders, not committing to a yes or no answer. You finally lay your eyes on him, and he’s staring past you across the cafeteria, you follow his eyeline…directly to the cheerleader’s table. A realization hits you and somehow your heart drops even lower.

He likes a fucking cheerleader.

You should’ve known his type would be a girl who jumps up and down in a tiny skirt. Maybe you should’ve joined the cheer squad then. Then at least you would’ve had a damn chance.

Somehow, you don’t even have the appetite to sit next to him anymore. “Listen, I have to ask for help in my chemistry class, it’s kicking my ass. Um…”

Eddie is about to protest but you’ve already picked up your bag and started jogging out the large door of the cafeteria. In fact, you missed the rest of the school day to fucking wallow in this stupid heartache. Your mom doesn’t pay enough attention to the school's phone calls to begin with.

As you leave the cafeteria, Eddie gives a questioning look to his fellow Hellfire mates. Hell, if they know. Gareth knows, but they’ve made a collective agreement not to meddle, as much as it pained Dustin. Eddie was just gearing up the confidence to ask if you’d want to hang out that weekend, which is where he was planning on making his move for the first time. He didn't know what was upsetting you, but he figured it was something to do with your homelife, as it usually does.

However, he couldn’t have seen the next week coming.

As Eddie goes through the motions of barely making attendance and handing in assignments with maybe a paragraph of some bullshit he spewed, he usually has your pretty face to look forward to. In his second period, his leg bounces as he waits for you to sit next to him in your usual seat so he can have an opportunity to ask the damn question he’s been meaning to. He's in class on time for once, just to watch your pretty face as you walk to the back corner to sit with him. One benefit of repeating senior year is that he gets to have class with you now. If you could only see his face as it fell as you walked into the classroom and took the immediate seat right by the front door.

After an hour of over thinking, Eddie finally convinces himself you simply just weren’t in the mood for conversation. The way you avoid the Hellfire table when you walk into the cafeteria that day seems to prove that theory right. Until over the following week he sees you having conversations with other members of Hellfire. Alright, that hurts.

One day, he calls your name as you’re at your locker, and he catches your eye contact before you run towards the front door.

What the hell did he do wrong?

-

In your 7th or 8th day of narrowly avoiding Eddie, you end up having to walk home in a light drizzle. Usually you have your car, but your mom insisted on needing it for the day. On the occasion that she needed the car, usually you would grab a ride from Eddie. Right now, that just wasn’t an option.

You start to feel bad for the first time since your avoidance started. You saw how Eddie’s face fell every time you made eye contact and walked the other way. No matter how much you’ve wanted to talk to him, you just can't let your feelings go.

You just need distance. If you give yourself enough time, the idea of having to leave him so he can have date-night with another girl won’t send you into a mental spiral. If you give yourself enough time, you could stand the idea of listening to him gush about her. As of right now, there’s no possible way any of that sounds doable to you.

As you got up this morning, the weather was bright and sunny, warm on your skin. You wore a layered skirt and a tank top. Unfortunately, the rain was picking up slowly, and you’re sure it's going to be pouring by the time you get home, still another mile or two away.

You walk on the sidewalk, arms crossed over one another to prevent from shivering as much as you can, narrowly avoiding the splashing from tires as cars pass by. While the rain picks up, your ears barely pick up on a vehicle slowing down right by you.

“Get in!” You hear a voice, recognizing it off the bat.

You look up to face him, nice and dry in his van that he has pulled over right next to you. You can barely see him through the rain. You shake your head, continuing your walk home.

“Sweetheart, get in! You’re gonna get sick! It’s starting to thunder!” Eddie argues, driving slowly as you continue to walk.

“No, I’m fine!” You answer, your chattering teeth giving away your iron clad position.

“Oh, for fucks—” You think Eddie has given up, your eyes on the ground as you trudge forward, until you see his scuffed-up shoes in your direct eyeline. His firm hands land on the soft flesh of your shoulders, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey. What the fuck did I do?”

Your eyes look up to him in surprise. “Huh?”

“You’ve been avoiding me for the last week and a half!” He yells, mostly because the rain has picked up so goddamn much.

“I-I just need space.” You tell him, attempting to get out of his hold.

“Wait, what? Why?” Eddie asks. Your eyes blink rapidly as you peer up at him, his curly hair already soaked from the rain. “What do you mean, you need space?”

You gulp out of both tears and frustration. “I just need space, Eddie! I need some time… to get used to it.”

You might as well have been speaking in tongues. “Get used to what? What the hell are you talking about?”

The words bubble up in your thoughts and through your throat before you can stop them. “You made it extremely clear that you don’t see me as anything other than a friend, and now you have a crush on some girl!”

Eddie couldn’t register a single word you were saying. It made no sense to him. “What?”

“I have made a complete fool out of myself! I basically put myself on display just for you to look at some girl shaking her ass in a cheerleader uniform.” You chuckle, wiping some rain from your face as it drips cold down your cheeks. “Maybe I should’ve joined the squad, then I would’ve stood a chance.”

“Wait, wait.” Eddie is having trouble processing any of this. “Can you please go from the start, sweetheart?”

“Gareth told me you like someone.” You admit, your voice faltering. “After sending signals for God knows how long, I guess I finally realize I’ve been making a fool out of myself with you.” You sigh, giving him the saddest look he's ever seen from you. “I just need some time to get over you.”

The information finally all seems to add up for Eddie. “Wait, sweetheart, back up.” Eddie says a soft smile landing on his face as he understands. “You-you like me?”

“Uh, yeah?” You answer, the answer obvious.

“And you think I like some cheerleader?” Eddie asks, pulling you closer to him.

God, this is torture. “I mean, you do, don’t you?”

He laughs, loud and…joyful. “God, no.” He says, and you nearly melt at the half smirk now settled on his face.

It's your turn to be confused. “Huh?”

“The girl I like is you, you dumbass.”

Suddenly your heart is in your ears, and you can’t think passed that smile on his face. The glint in his eyes is new, the look in his eye driving you stupidly crazy. “Wait, Ed, don’t fuck with me here.”

The hands resting on your shoulders float up to the shine of your cheeks, framing your face. Rain is dripping off his bangs and he’s nearly struggling through it but doesn’t seem to care. Truth is, he does not. All he can see is the shine of your lips from the rain. “Baby, I’ve been wanting to kiss those lips since the moment I saw you.”

Your breath hitches, staring at those lips you’ve stared at so many times. “Then what's stopping you?”

Your lips meet in the middle, rain colliding with one side of your face as you tilt your head. He takes the lead right away, your skin on fire as you are barely able to believe that this is real, and that he’s really kissing you. Eddie nibbles on your bottom lip, you let out a small whimper in response. Your tongue eagerly reaches out to meet his, the collision feeling like velvet. Eddie’s hand spreads out on your face, his limber fingers something you’ve fantasized about several times.

You continue to make out in the rain, one of your hands finding their way in his soaked hair. One hand is placed on the small on your back, tugging your body right up against his. Another whimper escapes your mouth, Eddie opening his mouth and breathing heavily into yours in a knee-jerk reaction.

Eddie separates from you, placing his forehead against yours. “You wanna get in now?” A half chuckle passes his lips at the sheer stupidity of this major miscommunication.

“Please.”

Eddie opens the back door to his van, already a blanket and pillow on the floor thanks to his habits in his free time. As you climb in, you squeeze the water from your hair, suddenly realizing you’re actually quite cold. Eddie observes your shivering. “Cold, baby?”

“Freezing.” You admit, grabbing a blanket folded in the corner. He helps you get wrapped up, rubbing your arms quickly. “I don’t wanna stop kissing you, though.” Another admission comes out just as easily.

“You sure?” He asks, walking on his knees to meet you.

“Just kiss me.” You tell him grabbing him by the jacket.

He chuckles as he meets your lips, his face dipping down to meet yours again. You fall backwards to lie down, tugging on his jacket so he lands on you. He giggles as he lands on his forearm right next to your head, all teeth against your lips as he smiles into you. Your legs curl up around his torso, tugging him impossibly closer.

“You have no—” He sighs, kissing you in intervals. “…No idea how badly I’ve wanted to kiss these pretty lips of yours.”

Your heart flutters as you giggle into the kiss, the compliments he showers you in too much to believe. “Ed, I-I want you to touch me…” You sigh, the blanket slowly falling off your body.

“Uh, don’t know if you know this, but I…I’ve never…” Eddie stutters, sounding nervous.

You let out a small huff of laughter. “It…it’s okay, Eddie.” Your hands entangle into the wet curls on his head. “Neither have I.”

Eddie lets out an audible gulp from the simple implications. “I think we should get off the main road before we start getting too into it, baby.”

“Oh, ok.” You tell him, butterflies fluttering in your tummy.

He sits back up, a noticeable tent in his pants making you feel flustered. You thought you felt something against your thigh, but mentally, you couldn’t fathom that he was hard for you. He extends his hand out for you, you accept it gratefully as he helps you scoot back out of the back. The two of you scurry to your prospective seats, the rain now coming down so fast your hair is soaked from the mere seconds it took you to get there.

Eddie pushes his wet mop of a head of hair to the side as he laughs with you at the scenario you currently find yourselves in. As he starts the van, he gives you a cocky eyebrow raise, the heat from the air vents surprising you in a blast. His heavy foot placed on the gas pedal surprises you, your head swinging backwards at the force.

Without asking, you know exactly where Eddie is headed. The drive takes longer than average, your nerves racking sky high as his strong hand holds yours absentmindedly.

The rain continues its assault from the sky, a flash of lighting reflecting in the water as you pull up to the edge of Lovers’ Lake. As Eddie brakes, your head falls back onto the fabric covered headrest, eyes closing as you place his hand in yours in your lap. The heat of your arousal is radiating off you, your thumb absentmindedly smoothing over Eddie’s.

There’s nothing you’ve wanted more than to be sweaty with him on top of you, but now that it’s about to happen, the fact is nearly overwhelming. As you soak in the sound of the rain on the roof of the van, Eddie presses his hand where you have it on your upper thigh, putting pressure on it. An involuntary whimper escapes your throat, and as your lungs fill up with air Eddie leans in across the gap of the seats, a chuckle leaving those sweet lips as he nuzzles into your neck.

A sigh leaves your lips as you can feel his teeth start to nibble lightly, relaxing into it. He places his other arm over you, coming up to rub your torso as his tongue delicately laps along your jugular. “Ed…can we lie down?” You ask, your eyelids starting to feel heavy.

“You wanna climb, or you wanna get out?” On cue, a flash of lightning hits right on the lake. “Climb?”

“Climb.” You agree, giving him your sweetest smile.

“Ladies first?” Eddie asks, gesturing to the back.

You awkwardly place your knee on the middle console your hands having a rough landing on the blanket covered floor of the van as you start to crawl forward. Behind you, Eddie appreciates the view, how your pink, thin panties beautifully showcase the outline of your cunt, still soaked from the rain. Well the rain and your arousal, of course.

You turn around, one leg bent as you wait for Eddie to climb over. His hand moves to turn on the overhead light, then he slowly crawls his way to you, the look in his darkened eyes sending a thrill up your spine. By the time his body lines up with yours, you’re giggling out of nervousness, wondering where this energy came from.

He hovers over you, the wide smile on his face as he switches between your eyes sending your nerves up into the atmosphere. Your legs open for him, accepting him as he lays on top of you. His hair starts to fall over your face as he leans in, his mouth deliciously open as he kisses you some more.

“Ed.” You mumble, moving your hands to where they seem to favour, the collar of his leather jacket. “Take this off.”

He hums as he follows your order, sliding the jacket off his shoulders as he continues to kiss you. Well, his multi-tasking is a bit jagged, but you appreciate the effort, nonetheless. You admire his newly exposed arms sitting in his wet muscle shirt. He leans down to continue lapping at your neck again, adding more teeth to turn your neck purple, having stared at this part when you stretch out a kink or two from your neck.

You’re so turned on; you can feel it in your bones. “Eddie,” you whimper out, eyes closed as you give in to the way his tongue feels electric. “I need you to touch me, please.” You beg him, your pussy begging you for attention.

“Of course, baby,” Eddie gulps, and knowing him, you could hear his nerves.

“Hey,” you say, reaching out to hold his face. “I can help you, just reach out to touch me and I’ll tell you how to do it. I just need your fucking fingers on me, please.”

Eddie leans in, kissing gently along your jawline. “I know, maybe I just wanted to hear you beg.”

You roll your eyes, calling him out on his bluff. “Mmhmm. Just fucking touch me, Munson.”

Eddie’s hesitancy seemed to die right there, his unsteady fingers simply placed over the thin layer of your panties makes you gasp, just the light touch giving you some satisfaction. “You were saying?”

Eddie starts to lightly trace along the folds, noting how it dips right where your hole would be. Eddie can’t help but get harder as the heat from your pussy radiates. “Feels good…” you mutter, sighing lightly. “Just a little harder, please?”

“You want it harder, sweetheart?” He asks, you nod enthusiastically. “You sure?” You nod again, frustrated at his damn questions.

He puts pressure on his fingers, experimentally starting to circle them around. “Little higher, Ed.” You tell him as he just grazes your clit. He listens, moving his fingers a half of an inch higher and continuing. He moves his fingers just high enough, starting to circle perfectly on your clit. You moan out loud, letting out small gasps. “Right there, right there!”

“Oh my god.” Eddie mumbles to himself, watching your face crumple up as your legs fall more open. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you moan like this…fucking stunning.” Your moans grow louder, your thighs starting to tense. Eddie suddenly stops, and you whimper at the loss. You feel him start to move your panties aside. As soon as you realize what he’s doing, your head perks up, watching his face as he stares at your exposed pussy for the first time.

The heat in your pussy increases, tenfold, weeping just from his intense stare.

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, mouth half open and his eyes don’t even blink. “Eddie?” You ask, starting to feel self-conscious.

“Wow…” he mutters, eyes finally locking with yours. “I knew your pussy would be pretty, I didn’t know it would be this ravishing.”

You gulp, feeling more wanted than you knew you ever could.

His fingers trace gently along your folds, just feeling your pussy. As he hears a whimper from you, a note of your impatience, he suddenly turns his hand upside down starting to touch with more pressure. “Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.” He whispers. “All…all this for me?”

You’re wet for him more than he knows, but your mouth can’t even communicate it, your brain having gone dumb from his touch alone.

He licks his lips, starting to rub at your folds purposely. “Look at this pretty little cunt, oh my god…wonder…” he doesn’t finish his thought, but when his long digit makes its way in you, you can deduce what he was thinking. He slides it in and out slowly, the length of his finger reaching much farther than yours ever have.

Your breathing gains speed and depth, adding another finger and fucking you slow, yet perfect. “Eddie.” You moan, your slick dripping down your ass and onto the blanket. Eddie moves his fingers faster, looking at your face for your response. “F-faster!”

Eddie lets out a huff of laughter you don’t hear, too caught up in the pleasure. “Jus’ gonna…” He leans in, and his tongue flat against your clit yanks the first genuine moan out of you, the pleasure all encompassing.

“Just like that! Please, Eddie, so close, please!” You beg him, the orgasm sneaking on you as it hurtles toward you, just around the corner.

He switches up, still new to this whole thing, but he makes up for it by gripping onto the soft flesh of your thighs and starting to fuck his tongue into your weeping hole. His lips create a sort of suction around the length of your lips, and the heat that radiates into your thighs becomes too fucking much as your thighs close hard against his ears.

“Gonna…” it’s the only warning you can provide for him before your entire body tenses up, a primal moan leaving your lips. Eddie works you through your orgasm, holding your thighs held against his head and revelling in how you soak his lips. He’s pictured his nose against your pussy too many times to already be satisfied.

As you finally come down, Eddie is still fucking into you with his tongue, seemingly not giving up. You lift your head up, your thighs now loose as you peer at him. “Ed?” You ask, the sensitivity of your puffy lips causing your thighs to quiver a little bit. “Wh-what are you doing?”

His tongue leaves your cunt for only half a second. “’M not done yet.” It’s warbled, his hot breath right against you eliciting another whimper.

Your head falls hopelessly against the van floor, his thumb contacting your clit and tongue swirling against your walls, moaning into your pussy. As you’re still sensitive, the second orgasm starts brewing in your tummy quickly. “Eddie, it’s too much.” You say, attempting to squiggle your hips away from his relentless tongue. “Too-too much.”

“Mmm, ‘can do it.” He mumbles, doubling down on his pattern.

“Ed…Eddie!” You cum into his mouth, your torso involuntarily tensed as you raised, incoherent sounds leaving your lips as you wither beneath him.

As your thighs relax again, he licks a last few times, as if trying to collect all the slick covering your pussy. After one last time, he looks up to you, licking his lips as you recollect yourself. “Was that ok?” He asks, breathing heavily and sweating as if he just ran a marathon.

You give him a look of disbelief, eyes furrowing as you shake your head. “Was…was that okay?” You repeat back to him in astonishment. “Eddie that was…I-I it was… I don’t know who taught you to do that, but it wasn’t me, Jesus!”

He crawls up to you, smile on his face gloriously cocky. “Yeah?”

“Uh huh!” You confirm, your voice indicating that you’re stating the obvious.

“Been wanting to do that for a while,” he says, mouth just hovering over yours.

“What a coincidence, been wanting you to do that for a while.” You smirk, switching your glance between his hypnotising eyes and his glossy pink lips. He finally leans in for a kiss, tongue reaching out to meet yours in a dance of straight up pleasure. “Ed…” You whine, bunching up the wet muscle shirt he’s wearing in your fists.

“Hmm?” He asks, slowly kissing you.

“I wanna help you.” You sheepishly admit, feeling your cheeks heat up. “Please?”

“Help?” Eddie asks, feigning ignorance in the meaning of your request.

“I wanna suck your cock, please, Eddie.”

Eddie lets out a laugh in incredulity. “Holy shit, please.” It’s damn near a whine, music to your ears.

You giggle in response, finally the shoe on the other foot as you get to now hear those moans as a result of what you do to him, and not through his bathroom door. Experimentally, you reach down, feeling at the tent you’ve felt brush against your thigh as you made out with him. At the mere brush of your hand on the outline of his cock, he moans, and you bite your lip in anticipation.

One leg bends, using it to push and get him onto his back. You sit up, straddling him as you assess his astonished expression. As soon as you sit up, however, you notice the twitch of his cock right under your pussy. Your breath stutters at it, not realizing your bodies would line up this well. As if your brain knows what to do before even you do, your hips start rutting against him, alluring a moan in sync from the two of you.

“Oh my god,” Eddie whimpers, eyes rolling in the back of his head. If you could, you’d take a picture of him.

You giggle, attempting some ounce of self-discipline as you start to crawl down his body, already missing the twitch of his dick against your bare pussy. If just his dick against you feels this good, you wonder how great he would feel inside you, and you almost run out of patience.

No. You want this power: to be on your knees as he moans for you. Show some fucking discipline.

Your hands fumble as you undo the button on his jeans and Eddie lifts his hips as you move them down his legs. You want to tease him over his thin boxers, but the anticipation is too much, the need of the weight of what appears to be his thick cock on your tongue too great. You tug down his boxers, his cock popping out deliciously.

The look of pure lust you saw on Eddie is essentially copy and pasted onto you, your eyes darkening as you take in his length for the first time.

“Uh, baby?” He asks, watching as you’re stuck in some sort of trance.

“So pretty.” You mumble to the pink head, precum already pearling at the slit. Your tongue darts out, wanting a taste of the salt dressing it. You sigh in satisfaction, eyes closing as you wrap your hand around the base. Tentatively, you wrap your lips around the head, sucking gently.

“What a good mouth, oh my god.” He babbles, hands in his own hair in a haze.

If you could, you’d smile. Only knowing from a magazine with blowjob tips, you start to move your mouth up and down his length, barely able to take in half of it. Your mouth sucks harshly on him, moaning around him as slobber starts to gather at the base. As a way to get the spit off your hand, you rub it on to his cock almost in exact time as you continue sucking.

“Baby, baby, do that again.” He whines, his gasps audible. You follow his request immediately, moving your hand in tandem with your mouth. “Just like that, so good, thank-thank you.”

A sense of pride hits you, increasing your speed as his legs start to move aimlessly around under you. Your jaw starts to become sore, so you decide to experiment some more. You give one long lick from base to tip, chasing a vein that travels around his cock. At the skin around his base, you suck lightly, giggling as he lets out a deep moan. You recall one tip telling you not to neglect the balls, so you travel down to one, sucking on the ribbed skin empirically.

“Fuck—I—” Eddie stutters out between loud gasps of pleasure, eyes closed.

You lick under it, trying to get every inch of skin as your hand absentmindedly strokes him. Your tongue goes back for his now leakier tip, engulfing his cock to the furthest of the back of your throat you possibly can, your gag reflex choking on him.

“Choke on that fat cock, baby, fucking choke on it!”

His stern tone surprises you, yet still turns you on as you continue the choking, now on purpose. You slobber all over his cock, one hand travelling up to hold his hand.

“Fuck, baby, I’m so fucking close…” You double down on every action, his hand squeezing the life out of yours. “Gonna cum down your throat…fuck—”

Eddie lets out the greatest moan of all time, a salty thick substance shooting down your throat as you swallow it easily. You barely have a chance to taste it, too much coming too fast to keep track, attempting to swallow it all. His cock finally stops twitching in your mouth, and as your mouth leaves him, you leave a final sweet kiss on the bright red tip.

As you lift your head to assess him, you see the obvious way his chest breathes in and out, catching his breath. You bite your lip as his eyes stay closed, palm on his forehead as he recovers. “Oh my god.”

“Yeah?” You ask, having never given head before.

“Uh, yeah!” He says as if he’s stating the obvious, falling back on the blanket. “Mere.” He sits back up, grabbing you at the shirt and putting his lips on yours. You moan into his mouth, panting happily as his tongue makes contact with yours. “Fuck, did you swallow?” He asks, fabric of your thin tank top lifted by his hand on your bare skin.

“Mmhmm!” You confirm, giggling as he lets out a sigh of contentment.

Eddie lifts your shirt off, the light-yellow fabric see through from the rain. He throws it across the van, moving you onto your back with his hand supporting the small of it. As he lies down alongside you, mouth slowly moving against yours and a hand trails along your skin, setting it on fire, yet goosebumps appear on your skin in its wake. His hand reaches its destination, travelling under the wire of your bra and starting to play with your peaked nipple.

You whimper into his mouth as he plays with it, tugging on it and sending pleasure down your spine. Your hands leave from where they were stationed on his shoulders to your skirt, trying to move it down your hips. “No, no, let me.” Eddie laughs, his hand leaving your nipple and replacing your hands on your skirt.

He tugs both your skirt and panties down off your legs, moving down the length as he gets them off your feet. You giggle and take off your shoes with it, watching as Eddie finishes taking off his pants and shoes as well.

Eddie lands back between your legs, his eyes hungry, making you feel vulnerable. A single hand, ever ambitious, moves around your back to take your bra off. To your surprise, he takes it off single handedly, the bra snapping off your back as a cheshire grin of satisfaction makes its way onto Eddie's lips. Finally, you move your hands around his back to help him take off his muscle shirt, admiring as each tattoo is revealed, finally allowed to ogle him.

You bite your lip, admiring him in the low light of the van. Eddie falters for a second, gulping. “I…I don’t have a condom.” He admits sheepishly.

You giggle, smiling at him happily. “I don’t care about that, I just need you to fuck me, Ed.”

He smiles, leaning in for a sweet, lush kiss. “I…I have to tell you something.” He sighs, on all fours as he hovers over you.

Your stomach swoops nervously. “Um…okay.”

He lines himself up, the tip slight pressure against your hole. “Okay?”

You nod, now confused. Wasn’t he going to tell you someth-oh my god. He slowly enters you, the pain over taking the pleasure, but the feeling still phenomenal.

“So tight.” He grunts, arms still straight as he waits for you to adjust.

It starts to feel overwhelmingly better, Eddie pulsing inside you, you can feel every inch against your walls. “More.” You plead.

Eddie pushes in a bit more, a high whine leaving your lips. “You’re doing so well, baby, taking this big fat cock.”

“Cock feels…so good…” You sigh, eyes closing on their own accord. “Didn’t…didn’t you have something to say?”

He laughs, his cock twitching in tandem. “I do…”

“You’re inside me, and you’re still a tease?” You ask, humming as it turns to pleasure again. “More.”

Eddie pushes in a little bit more, licking his lips as he takes in your pleasure-stricken face. “A tease, eh?” He asks, wondering what you meant.

“Walking in with your chest still wet—” you whine, interrupting yourself, “the cut off sleeves you wear, mast-masturbating in the shower…more.”

“Just a little bit more baby.” You don’t know how he could be any deeper, you’re pretty sure he’s already at your cervix. “Wait…you heard me in the shower?”

You huff a breath of laughter, tightening around him. “Mmhmm. Sounded so fucking hot, I might’ve touched myself in your bed when I heard it.”

Eddie moves in a final time without your say-so, and you moan in surprise. “Sorry, baby, you just—you just took me by surprise. You touched yourself in my bed? When I was in the shower?”

“Only because I could hear you.” You admit, your legs wrapping around his hips, pulling him closer to you.

“You could hear me? I was so sure I was being quiet.” He admits, his breath hot against your skin as he lies directly against you.

“Not really.” You admit, biting your lip in embarrassment. “It was so fucking hot, Ed.”

Eddie sighs, peppering kisses against your skin. “Well, I was thinking of you and those thin pjs you wear, sweetheart, so I guess it was a mutual masturbation.”

“I wondered if that was working.” You admit, humour in your voice. Eddie shakes his head, everything suddenly making sense. He kisses you deeply, hips still stagnant as he allows you to get used to his girth.

“So, you had something you wanted to tell me, Eddie?” You ask, slowly caressing the side of his torso, lightly tracing the tattoos you come in contact with.

“Mmhm.” He hums, leaning down to kiss skin gently, any skin he could reach. “Thanks for remembering.”

You roll your eyes, starting to get antsy at his still hips. “Just tell me.”

“I’m telling you this, because it broke me to see your reaction after you thought I even liked someone else.” The heartache seems so far away now, especially since he’s currently balls deep inside you. “I don’t just like you, sweetheart.” He admits, his voice suddenly soft and sweet. “I’m in love with you. I have been in love with you for as long as I’ve known you, at least, I think…I don’t know. But I don’t want anyone else, never have, baby. I just. Want.” Unexpectedly, he lifts his lips, pulling a gasp. “You.” He bucks his hips once for emphasis, taking in the already fucked out look on your face as you take in everything he just gave you.

“Really?” You ask in a light whisper, breathing heavily. “You-you love me?”

“Mmhmm.” He affirms, his hips bucking out slowly yet again.

“I-I love you too, Ed.” You admit, your heart open and full, every part of you, full, as he slowly fucks into you.

The words take a minute to register, his hips stilling completely. It’s such a tease, the way his hips still after only mere seconds of starting their trek. You whimper as an answer, your hips lifting to silently request that he’d continue. “Ed?”

“Oh my god…” he mutters, slowly lapping his way down your neck. “I’m so crazy for you, baby, so fucking insane.”

“Can…you please move?” You request politely, legs tense at his hips as your cunt begs for more attention.

“Need this fat cock to fuck you good, don’t you, baby?” He manages out, voice with a hint of husk in it as he continues to kiss his way down your body. The dip of your collarbone, valley of your tits, biting at the areola, licking dirtily along the curve of your breast…as far as he could go without his cock leaving you. “Hmm? Just desperate for it, aren’t you?”

One side of you wants to ask him where he's come up with this, because it’s driving you absolutely wild. The other side doesn’t fucking care where he got it from, the pleasure from his delicate licks consuming you whole. At a loss for words, you nod your head.

He grunts as he bucks himself into you, this one harder than the last. “Oh? Can’t use your words, baby?”

You whine, feeling pathetic, and yet, ravishing in it. “I just want you to rail me, please, please, Eddie.”

“Yeah?” He asks, turning his lips into your neck again, muttering against your throat. “How bad?”

“Enough to think about you” you huff, heat floating to your cheeks, hesitant in saying it. Could he just…keep moving? Please?

His teeth graze your ear, nipping at it. “Wanna finish that sentence, love?” Eddie asks, his voice making your thighs clench together around his hips.

“Eddie, I've thought about you everytime I fucked my pussy with my fingers. I’ve thought about you fucking me more times than I can count.”

“Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know how many times I’ve fucked my fist praying one day it would be you…whimpering and whining for me.”

“Then turn me into a fucking mess, Ed. Please.”

Finally, his lips leave your throat and he looks at you, his grin manic as those adorable dimples finally give you that look you’ve been craving for what feels like eons at this point. His hips move into action, fucking you at a force that pulls feral grunts out of your mouth, sounds you didn’t even know you had the capability of making.

“Baby, your pussy is so tight, just pulling me in.” He grunts, one hand curling its way into your hair, pulling lightly at the roots.

“Eddie, your cock feels so fucking good. Fucking—keep going—oh my god.”

Eddie is torn between moaning, grunting, and thoughts that are never finished. His hand, nimble and huge, trails up and down your torso, your legs, touching every inch he can. Finally, two of his fingers make their way to your clit, rubbing it with fervour. Your pussy clenches around his length as he continually bucks into you, the mix of sensations too much, and yet, everything you’ve ever wanted from him.

“Eddie, can you please do something for me?” You ask, reaching out to hold his face with both hands and giving him a sweet kiss.

He sighs into your kiss, tongue connecting with yours, and you feel dizzy and high in pleasure. “Anything, angel.”

“Want you to call me a slut.”

He leans in for another kiss, much dirtier and much needier. His hips rut into yours desperately. “Yeah? Dunno if you’ve really earned it…” he comments, teasing you.

You don’t realize he’s egging you on, desperate for him in ways you didn’t think you could be. Your mind goes to the thing it was fixated on when Eddie once held your face, hands petting two fingers absentmindedly. You grab at the same two fingers, nimble and long, and place them in your mouth, sucking as you wrap your tongue around them.

Eddie’s mouth opens, jaw slack as his tongue pokes out. A shine appears in his eyes, glazing over as they fixate on your mouth. Your mind might’ve been tricking you, but you swear his dick twitches inside you. His hips have stopped…again. “Oh shit, my dirty little slut.”

You nod your head enthusiastically, rutting your hips up again, silently begging for more. You moan around him, eyes hooded, Eddie blurring in your vision from the steep want. Your teeth graze his fingers lightly, lapping your tongue over it when he whines. Around his fingers you choke, your mouth hot and wet. Your mouth leaves his fingers for a moment, light shining in the spit glazing your mouth. “Baby I need you to fuck me. Please, Ed. Please.”

“Listen to this little slut beg for it. Can you beg some more? Hm? See that pretty little mouth beg, just for me.” His low rumble only spurring you on further.

Eddie knows you love what that husky voice is saying as your pussy pulses around him. “Hmm. Eddie, please, please fuck me. Need that cock so fucking bad. You have no idea how much you turn me on, your rings, your arms, fuck, that pretty fucking mouth, those gorgeous eyes, oh my fucking god. I have needed you to fuck me for this last year, please, Ed, just rail me until I can’t think.”

Your chest is heaving, eyes slowly assessing Eddie’s reaction. A smile slowly creeps on his face, until it’s a smirk that sends a shiver right through you. Your eyes dart back and forth between his, anticipating his next move, biting your lip. The first thing he does is lean down to give you a kiss, that can simply be described as romantic. His tongue reaches out to connect with yours, gliding together in a dance that you don’t think you’ll ever get over.

Honestly, you think, if his kiss ever bores you, the person to your left better beat your ass for taking for granted how fantastic these lips are.

After a moment of just his lips on yours, lying together so unified, you aren’t sure where he stops and you begin. Slowly, his kisses move from your lips, down the dip of your neck, and he licks slowly up to your ear. “Hmm. Fuck you until you can’t think? Baby, I’m gonna fuck you stupid.”

A moan leaves your throat, a hint of a whimper. His lips curl up more against your ear, a light laugh huffing against it.

Then, his hips get to work.

Every goddamn time Eddie stopped, every time he made you beg for him to keep going, whether it be silent or verbal, he makes up for it tenfold as soon as his hips start moving. He pushes up, using his hands to lift his body up and start fucking you at a relentless pace. Slowly, you recognize an annoying squeak fades in the background, the sound of the axel against his differential from his hips bucking wonderfully.

Not a word leaves your throat, the only sounds are small gasps falling from your lips, faster and faster as the pleasure impossibly grows within you. It feels like an aura of heat, radiating from your full pussy, and throughout your body.

“Feel good, baby? Feel that fat cock fucking you, good and full?” He grunts out from between gritted teeth.

You nod, whines leaving your throat, one shock at a time.

His hand on your hip tightens, nails digging into the doughy skin of your ass. “Hey, slut. I asked you a fucking question.”

“So good…so good…so fucking good…so fucking good. Ed-Eddie…I—” You’re cut off by your own shout, the way he hits hard, and deep, impossibly harder.

“Look at my cock-drunk little slut, taking this cock so well.” He mutters, voice deep and gasping for air. “Fuck, feels so good.”

Your legs wrap around his hips, pulling him so his forehead lands on yours, harshly, but in a way that makes him grunt…almost…animalistic…

��Cum…cum in me…” it’s a struggle to get out, but once it does, you witness Eddie falter for just a second.

“R-really?”

“Please, please cum in me. Want it dripping out of me, please baby.”

His hand stutters in its movements, sliding up from your hips, to your neck, hands gently raising on the front. “Want me to cum in you?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Want me to claim you as yours?”

“Been…been yours since I sat down at—ah—your table, Ed.”

“That’s fucking right, you have, you’re all fucking—all fucking mine.”

His hip movements are a little more jagged, his breathing heavy and jagged. “Harder.”

He chuckles, hand tightening around your throat, a grunt leaving your throat at each fucking hit. “Fuck…gonna—”

He cuts himself off, his cum filling you up deliciously in spurts of hot, white, mess. You go over the edge with him, your orgasm hitting you in a way that will have you fucking skipping around the halls of the school. You whine his name, choked out past his ring-necklace wrapped around your neck.

His torso collapses on yours, covered in sweat in the thick of the van.

His hand leaves your neck, both wrapping themselves into your hair. You seem to finally catch your breath, almost gasping as his weight is the most comforting thing you’ve ever felt in your life. He’s laid on you several times before, but never this intimate, his breath mixing with yours, making you feel whole.

You giggle, a smile that takes over your face in every muscle, completely lighting up. As much as you try, you can’t hold it in. It floats down your face and into your body, every limb full of complete joy. Eddie twists his head into your neck, you feel the wide smile he makes, gorgeous laughter leaving his lips against you. His teeth nip at your neck, making you giggle harder, hands flying up to your face.

Eddie leans up his face to see yours, the lazy smile lopsided, a pretty shine in his eyes. It’s…new…and radiant. You giggle again as you look up at him, your hands landing on each side of his rosy, glowing, cheeks. His skin is hot and flushed, your thumbs slowly caressing his face.

He leans in for another kiss, gentle this time, making you feel all too dizzy. A sigh of utter contentment leaves your mouth, biting your lips anxiously. “Hi, love.” He mutters, a lithe finger moving a strand of hair that fell into your eye. “Doin’ good?”

You nod, shyly rubbing your head into his chest. “Very good.”

He laughs, tilting his head up to face the roof of the van, still sheltering you from the sturdy and never-ending rain. “Fuck, rain hasn’t stopped.”

“It’s pretty.” You comment, observing the pattern of the roof his van. “I love the sound.”

He hums, eyes raking you over as he leans into you. “Not as good as the sounds you make.”

You roll your eyes, hitting his arm gently. “Eddie.” You giggle, legs wrapping themselves around him. “What a line.”

His lips softly land on your cheek, giving you a final kiss. “Not a line, just the truth.” He whispers, hands now preparing himself to lift out of you.

“Wait.” You stop him, holding on to one of those strong arms of his. “I—I really don’t want you to leave yet, baby.”

A laugh escapes his throat, in utter disbelief if anything. “Oh, we have plenty of time for cock-warming, gorgeous, don’t you fucking worry.” He assures you. “I just thought we could go to my house, make out and watch a movie, ya know?”

“Mmhmm.” You answer, still moaning at the loss that was too much to handle. “I just wanted to…revel in it.”

“Oh, I love you so fucking much.” He sighs, grinning at you as he crawls to his clothes.

You lean up into your elbows, a symphony of giggles leaving your throat as he tosses your panties into your face. “Can we make out on your couch?”

“Whatever you want, baby.” Eddie tells you, curly hair that’s already frazzled from the humidity even crazier from the tryst. “Hell, you can ride me, let’s get out of his van before we both catch a cold.”

You put on the skirt he hands to you. “Both?”

“Yep.” He nods, also throwing his jacket. “You walked a mile in the pouring rain with no jacket on. You’re gonna be a mess this weekend.”

Nodding, you agree with him. “I mean I’ll be a mess either way, no?”

Eddie shakes his head as he puts on his shirt, giving you a look you’ve been dying for him to shoot you. As if he’s so lucky to have caught you.

He’s wrong, you’re the lucky one. The two of you finally finish getting dressed, meeting in the middle in your cold, wet clothes. You crawl into his arms, nuzzling his chest as he places a kiss on your damp hair. “C’mon, let’s figure out how far we can get into Halloween before ripping each other’s clothes off again.”

You giggle, climbing into the passenger seat. If it was up to you, the tape wouldn’t even make it into the VCR.

Your hand intertwines with his on the way there, your whole body relaxing into the fabric seats. He can’t keep his eyes on the road, glancing at you every five seconds. It’s hard to believe only twelve hours ago you were in bed cocooned because your heart was aching so badly.

Now your heart aches in a completely different way, and it’s from not being able to comprehend that you could love and be loved in return just as much.

The next morning, Wayne walks into his trailer to see clothes scattered along the hall. You didn’t even make it to the couch.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinnschesthair @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you @names-were-taken @oddussy420

[fixitwithwhat]

Credit to sga-mcshep-4ever's beautiful gifset I love all you gif creators so much thank you for providing <3

I think about this scene a lot.

Like, a LOT.

It's the first episode after the pilot, they're not even a team yet and we get this. We get John and Rodney being like this. They had almost no interactions up to this point and then suddenly we get this scene and everytime on rewatch it hits me like a truck.

Up to this point, we have never seen Rodney like this. We have SG-1 McKay in 48 hours being unable to have even one decent conversation with a human being. We have a slightly less terrible Rodney in the recurring instances after.

Even Rodney's opening interaction with Carson in this very episode doesn't go without him insulting his medical degree and then, out of the blue, we get this.

And I always have to think about how did it come to this? How did it pan out? Why did he go to John of all people instead of heading back to Carson going "hey, btw, your gene therapy worked, check this out!" What did it look like? Did he just run up to this flyboy like kids do on the playground when they show off their toy and randomly decide to be friends? Just "MajOR, look what I fOunD" and John going "omg that's so C O oL"? And then they pause and John just goes "hey do you think it can handle it if I swung this metal rod at your face real hard", like. I THINK ABOUT THIS SCENE A LOT.

What prompts Rodney to have an instant connection with this man and trust him to shoot at him? "Oh, believe me, that's not the first thing we've tried." What else have you tried before John shot at you? How long have you two been at this?

It's messing me up how they're instantly on the same wavelength. It's messing me up how happy they both look. How we've NEVER seen Rodney so genuinely, boyishly excited before. How we've never seen him interacting with a person in such a genuine, positive way. How this is the first time we see him having fun with anyone.

Same for John, there's nothing of that sardonic attitude from the pilot, he just looks like a kid and his "Did you SEE that?"-voice when he storms down the stairs is just so heartfelt and giddy. Both of them look like they're having fun with a good friend and it's messing me up.

I think about this scene a lot.

[thatstheproblemwithnapkinman]

something that kind of annoys me is when peoiple genuinely criticise tom taylor's nightwing run by saying "dick is so out of character in those 2 issues where he gets the shit beaten out of him and then falls through his window"

bc

that is taken out of the context of dick recovering from a traumatic brain injury so yeah he's going to be off balance after being whacked in the head MULTIPLE TIMES what are you talking about?!?!

it's ok, just breathe

the panel for reference

Nightwing (2016) #83 pp. 12

don't believe me?

dick gets shot in the head just above his left ear, which you can see in both of these panels and in the cover for nightwing (2016) #50 (if you pretend if's a mirror image bc why is it on the right)

Batman (2016) #55 pp. 21 Nightwing (2016) #50 pp. 2

Nightwing (2016) #50 Cover

you can also see his brain scans in the same issue which nicely show the area of damage and literally list what happened

Nightwing (2016) #50 pp. 2

so he lost bone (skull), blood (obviously), brain tissue (we'll come back to this), cerebrospinal fluid (bc there was a whole in his head), and suffered from severe vascular swelling (we'll return here too)

so, what brain tissue did dick lose?

here's the very basic anatomy of the human brain

John Hopkins Medicine - https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/conditions-and-diseases/anatomy-of-the-brain (i drew the red circle)

now the ears sit just in front of the cerebellum, roughly somewhere around the red circle which lines up with the brain scan showing the damage is roughly in that notch where the temporal lobe and parietal lobe meet

the temporal lobe is involved with speech, rhythm, and short term memory

the parietal lobe is involved with pain and touch recognition, recognising objects, and oh would you look at that, spatial recognition

dick go shot in the part of the brain that tells the body where it is in relation to objects

no wonder he had a hard time fighting and trying to climb through windows, his coordination was all fucky

now the cerebellum is the part of the brain that affects balance BUT but but but we haven't talked about vascular swelling yet

vascular swelling is where the walls of the blood vessels swell (whodathunk) and this causes a reduction in the blood supply as they swell inwards

outward swelling with increase pressure on the brain which is not good either BUT this reduced blood flow = less oxygen to the brain = damage

there's a reason the symptoms of hypoxia pre-passing out are pretty much limited to your brain bc that's the organ that goes first

so with a decrease in bloodflow to his brain, there is a decent change damage was also done to every single part of his brain

now the blood supply does come in past the cerebellum so tbh there probably wouldn't be that much damage if at all however even with that it would explain how dick was still effected from getting shot

so having learned all that, lets take a look at issues 81 & 83 shall we

in #81...

Nightwing (2016) #81 pp. 5

he gets whacked in the head by heartless, someone with enhanced strength

Nightwing (2016) #81 pp. 12

he passes out because he's been whacked on the head near to where he was shot

Nightwing (2016) #81 pp. 13

this is nicely confirmed by babs

Nightwing (2016) #81 pp. 19

he gets pushed back whilst fighting and due to his injury induced lack of spatial awareness, he falls down the stairs

then in #83, after fighting blockbuster, almost getting shot again, and flying through a helicopter...

Nightwing (2016) #83 pp. 12

he falls through his window

so yeah, i do think this is reasonable for dick to do given he's recovering from a brain injury and has just been hit in the head and probably hit it whilst falling down the stairs

and if you've made it this far, i want to emphasise the 20 million valid reasons to criticise tom taylor's nightwing run, but this just isn't one of them

[harmonictechnicality]

*no rest for the wicked*

my teensy contribution to @thefreakandthehair's spicy six summer collection 💖 | word count: 3k | rating: T | ao3 link | also, this wouldn't exist if @chocoarts didn't send me a sketch that immediately set off sparklers in my brain so bless youuu ✨

Twenty-six hours. That’s how long Eddie has been up. Twenty-six hours and twelve minutes. The heaviness hanging in his eyes is medieval-level torturous, and the cramp in his left calf is probably permanent by now. 

A sane person who enjoys sleeping might be asking, ‘Why? Why put yourself through this when there’s a perfectly decent bed down the hall?’ And Eddie would be forced to reply back with two, simple words:

Concert. Tickets.

That’s right, Eddie is actively murdering his own brain cells to win two vip tickets on the radio. Twenty-seven hours ago, it seemed like a grand idea. Genius, even. It’s free and minimal effort - he just has to call the station every hour on the dot. No biggie, right?

Ha, sure. Tell that to the muscles in his eyelids.

“How much longer do you have?” Chrissy asks, snagging a magazine from the stack on the couch.

Eddie checks his watch. Huffs out a laugh. “Let’s just say, I could watch the entire Star Wars trilogy including the credits for each one.”

“Translating to...?”

“Seven-ish hours.” Robin quickly chimes. She pops out of her bedroom and joins Chrissy’s side, instantly threading their hands together. They share a look, one that makes Eddie believe in nice things, even in his state of misery. It’s their superpower, injecting their optimistic outlook into the atmosphere. Infectious in the best way. 

“I always forget that you speak fluent nerd.” Chrissy snorts.

“Ouch.” Robin gasps and pulls away, stomping off to their room. Too dramatic to be believable. “Get back to bed before I actually feel offended by that.”

Normally, Eddie is charmed by how hopelessly in love his roommates are with each other. But right now, they are his mortal enemies (well, tied with The Clock), because they get to sleep and he gets to stare at the lightbulb in the ceiling fan. Every now and then, it flickers, which never fails to startle him. 

Good. He desperately needs the extra alertness. 

Another forty-five minutes go by before anything noteworthy happens. Eddie’s other roommate gets off his night shift around one in the morning. The front door squeals as it opens, crackling all the adrenaline leftover in Eddie’s body. 

“Scared the shit out of me, man.” Which could’ve been a literal statement if Eddie hadn’t just taken a bathroom break.

“Gotta get this door fixed.” Steve says. That’s what he always says when it creaks. The reaction never changes, always skating his fingers over the door hinges, mouth twisting to the side. Hands on his hips in disapproval. Eddie has to look away before Steve breaks out his insufferably cute ‘foot tap’ routine. “Hey - why are you still up?”

Ah, yes. Just what Eddie needed. A reminder that it’s fucking late. He finds the energy (or common decency, who knows) to point at the phone. Then to the radio.

“You’re still doing that, huh?”

Eddie nods twice.

“Damn, I’ve never heard you this quiet.” Steve sounds genuinely surprised. A little too smug for Eddie’s liking. “Didn’t know your mouth could stay in a straight line for this long.”

There it is. The rich boy smartassery that will never die. Always lurking in the depths of his genetic makeup.

Eddie claps, total deadpan.

The conversation lulls while Steve messes around in the kitchen for a bit. He’s noisily opening cabinets and clanking dishes around in the sink. Eventually, he walks back into the living room with two beers. 

Both for him apparently. “Well, listen,” he starts out. Kicks his feet up on the coffee table. “I’m pretty wired after work, so if you need some company-”

“Six… hours… left.” Eddie musters out.

“Okay well, I doubt I’ll last that long. But I can give it a shot.”

Eddie smirks, raises both eyebrows. “There’s a dirty joke somewhere in there. Too tired to find it though.”

“Good to know the horny part of your mind is still awake.” Steve gives Eddie a small pat on the head. 

“Oh? That’s a good thing?”

“Depends on who you ask.”

“I’m asking you.” It’s too direct, Eddie hears it. And now it’s just Out There - his inability to flirt in a subtle way. And yeah, he could blame it on sleep deprivation, but he’s never been known for his mastery of ambiguity so…

The pause goes on long enough for the light to flicker again, the room growing darker with it. Steve takes a swig of his drink and smiles. “It’s good to know, Ed.”

The light flickers even darker.

Eddie is fully awake after that. Which could’ve been part of Steve’s plan - stimulate his brain with flirty comments and keep him up with those melty smiles. It’s no secret that Eddie turns into a hair-twirling loser around this guy. 

Even after living together for a year and seeing one another’s most disgusting habits, he still feels this way. Tight throat, stomach flips. Purely smitten in a way that would nauseate deadbeat poets.

In this moment, however, it’s a wonderful remedy to staying awake throughout the rest of the night. Much more effective than energy drinks and Tootsie Rolls.

Steve ends up on the floor, leaning against the edge of the couch. He sips another beer, recounting some bullshit that happened during his shift at the hotel. Eddie does his best impression of Listening to Steve’s stories, but the words are just buzzing around the glow of Steve’s hair and the shine on his lips. Nodding at seemingly appropriate times is all Eddie currently can offer.

“Sleeping with your eyes open, Munson?”

Eddie blinks hard. “Huh?”

“Creepy, but impressive.” Steve laughs, tapping his hand against Eddie’s leg. “You should add that to the Special Skills column on your resumé.”

“Bold of you to assume I have a resumé.”

They spend the next hour doing just that - adding useless skills to Eddie’s nonexistent resumé. It keeps them busy. Content. Steve smacks Eddie’s knee anytime he laughs, leaves his hand longer every time. Maybe that’s all in Eddie’s semi-dormant mind, especially since Steve shows casual affection to all of his friends. But the warmth of his palm is real enough to have Eddie fully committed to making Steve laugh as much as possible.

“What about… Expert Paper Clip Chain-Maker?” Steve suggests. 

Eddie stares at the chain in his hand, the one he was oblivious to creating. He whips it around like a lasso and then shrugs. “A bit wordy.”

“So you’re saying length matters?”

“Christ on toast, Harrington. You’re awfully quick to jump to that conclusion, aren’t you?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just starts laughing again. Eddie didn’t even need to tell a shitty joke this time. 

And when Steve’s hand hits his knee, sliding slightly up his thigh, Eddie laughs along with him. It’s the only way to cover up the heat rushing to his face.

Eddie enters the realm of delirium with three hours left in his challenge. He slumps onto the floor next to Steve, nudging his shoulder, staring into his sleep-heavy eyes. It’s four in the morning, inhibitions be damned.

“Do you think if you ever visit Europe, they’d call you Harring-metric-ton?” Eddie picks a piece of lint off Steve’s sleeve. Perfect excuse to reach out, move in closer.

Steve groans. “Yikes. But yes, that question keeps me up at night.”

“So that’s why you’re still awake. See, I knew it wasn’t because of my silly little concert tickets.” 

As soon as the words leave his lips, Eddie convinces himself that it’s the truth. Which is so dumb, so stupid. But this seed of insecurity keeps him going, fully projecting his assumptions onto Steve’s harmless comment. Somewhere deep down, buried underneath his exhaustion, Eddie knows it was a joke. But he can’t seem to shut up anymore.

“The riddle has been solved, folks! We finally know why Stevie here is still awake.” Eddie exclaims, flinging his arms out to the side. “Alert Scooby and the gang at once! Mystery Incorporated can finally pack up their magnifying glasses and pursue careers with better health insurance. Ones that covers vision costs this time. It’s what dear, ol' Velma deser-”

“Eddie.” Steve places a hand on Eddie’s arm, holding him still. Was he moving? Oh god, was he shaking? 

Fucking mortifying.

Steve’s thumb swipes across Eddie’s skin, tracing diagonal lines back and forth. “You’re rambling.”

“And you’re…” Eddie loses focus. He looks down at the hypnotic patterns that Steve is making. “There. Doing that.”

Steve stops briefly to flip Eddie’s hand over, starts tracing the lines in his palm instead. The pressure makes Eddie’s heart lurch up into his throat. He can feel it thumping in his neck, faster with every stroke of Steve’s fingers. All he wants to do is close his hand around them, keep Steve there for the rest of the night. Longer if he’d let him.

“I can stop if it’s weird.” Steve’s voice is so much quieter than it was earlier. 

Don’t stop. Eddie thinks. Can’t say it like that because gross. Humiliating and gross. “It’s not weird.”

Steve keeps his focus on the motion, Eddie does the same. They stay like this for a while, just watching. Intently staring over the invisible lines like pages in a novel. Eddie is pretty sure he’s breathing too loud, can hear it above the whistle in the air conditioner. Wonders if Steve can hear it too. 

Probably.

“That’s not why I’m staying awake.” Steve says, never breaking the pattern.

“No?”

“It’s who I’m staying awake for.”

Steve finally stops, right in the center of Eddie’s hand. The air in the room goes dense, weighted with acknowledgment. Something has changed and Eddie can feel it everywhere. 

He tilts forward, pulling his gaze away from his hand and up at Steve’s lips. If he weren’t stuck between half-awake and total-delirium, Eddie would just do it. Kiss Steve the way he’s always wanted to. Syrupy slow and deep. Savoring every second.

He could do it right now, right this second. But his focus starts drifting as he closes his eyes. “Did Chrissy tell you?” Eddie grumbles, almost unintelligible. 

“Tell me what?”

Eddie’s head falls, landing somewhere on Steve’s chest. He inhales the scent of laundry detergent (because Steve and Chrissy are the only avid laundry-doers in the apartment). It’s so soothing, drawing him further into a dreamlike place.

“Tell me what, Ed?”

“That I…” Eddie is nearly asleep before he can finish the thought. The confession:

‘That I’m crazy about you.’

Sunlight hits Eddie first, startles him so much that he jolts upward. Fully awake. It takes a few seconds of furiously rubbing his eyes before the dread kicks in. 

Morning.

It’s morning.

“Shit.”

Eddie fell asleep.

Steve fell asleep.

“Shitshitshit. So many shits!” He fumbles through the labyrinth of blankets and pillows around him, snatching his watch from the coffee table:

10:24 a.m.

“Goddamnit!”

Eddie sinks back down to the floor, clutching the phone that serves him no purpose anymore. All of those hours of waiting and calling for nothing. Even if general admission wasn’t already sold out, it’s not like Eddie could afford tickets on his own. He can barely keep up with his share of the rent. Chrissy had to cover for his grocery run last week and he still hasn’t paid her back.

It’s just so expected too - for him to fuck up like this. Always letting opportunities slip through the cracks, making careless mistakes. No one will be surprised that he failed at such a simple task like calling a fucking radio station.

Eddie sets the phone back on the table and cleans up the living room in a daze. Every now and then, he mutters under his breath about being a total moron. He stays relatively quiet for the most part though. No use in throwing a bitchfest while Steve is blissfully conked out three feet away.

Of course he looks good sleeping too, even in the midst of Eddie’s breakdown. Unfair.

Just before heading back to his room, Eddie hears that familiar door creak. Same one that always sets off Steve’s inner handyman tendencies. 

He looks back to see Chrissy padding towards him with a blanket wrapped around her. For someone who hasn’t had their mood-altering cup of coffee yet, she looks extremely pleased to see him. Maybe she knows about the fate of the concert tickets. Maybe this is an early-risers pity party.

Fucking yay.

“Chris, please don’t try to-”

His words are muffled by Chrissy throwing her arms (and blanket cape) around him. She’s so bouncy, the way she always gets with Robin whenever their favorite song comes on at the karaoke bar. He pats her on the back and clears his throat, still trying to piece together what this exchange could be about. However, Eddie is functioning on a few hours of sleep, so his cognitive skills are groggy at best.

She gives him one more squeeze and then looks up, positively gleaming. “I knew it! I knew it would finally happen!”

“That I’d screw up for the umpteenth time in my life? Gee thanks, Chris.” Eddie says.

“What are you talking about?”

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about you and Steve!” She whisper-yells back.

Was she snooping on them last night? He wouldn’t put it past her, snoopiness is the foundation of their friendship. Well, whatever Chrissy thought she saw, she’s wrong. Sure, Steve and Eddie flirted, both letting some potentially mutual feelings slip out.

But it was all cut short by Eddie passing out mid-flirt. God knows how Steve took that reaction. Probably assumed Eddie was so bored that he would rather sleep than makeout with him. Or worse, that Eddie was pretending to sleep to let him down easy.

Christ, he doesn’t wanna think about that right now. Not while he’s still mourning the loss of his precious tickets.

“Hate to break it to you, honeyjam, but nothing happened.” Eddie shakes his head, gesturing to Steve who hasn’t budged from the recliner. “It’s just me over here and Steve over there. No conjunction connecting us together in that way.”

He can already tell Chrissy isn’t buying it. She’s getting that little forehead wrinkle right above her eyebrows, just like an angry cartoon character. Her best attempt at intimidation. “You didn’t see what I saw.” 

“Gay desperation?”

“No, you jackass. Come here!”

Chrissy yanks Eddie into his bedroom, demanding for him to lock the door. He listens, mainly because the intimidation is starting to work a little. They sit at the edge of the bed and she begins to explain everything she saw:

Steve constructing a wall of blankets and pillows around Eddie to ensure he slept comfortably. Steve waiting by the phone, tapping his foot in that insufferably cute way that Eddie loves so much. Steve scoring the tickets, celebrating quietly to himself.

“How long were you standing at the door, weirdo?” Eddie teases her to avoid the way his stomach is twisting around her words. 

Chrissy shushes him and squeals. “And he kissed your cheek!”

“Liar.”

“He did, I swear! He kissed you on the cheek or the chin or the nose. I don't know which one for sure because my view was obstructed by all of your hair.”

Eddie instinctively combs his fingers through a few strands, undoing the knotted pieces. Not all of them, but enough to keep his hands busy while he thinks through this. Processing. “And you’re sure it wasn’t a dream?”

“Positive.”

“What about a hallucination? Didn’t Byers make a batch of those infamous brownies again?”

Chrissy gives a deep sigh. “Whatever. You’re hopeless.” She shrugs the blanket back over her arms and heads toward the door. More than a fair assessment, Eddie can’t argue even if he wanted to (he always does). 

He stares at the line of posters along his wall, letting Chrissy’s words replay over and over. Imagining what it might have felt like. If Steve’s breath was warm or if his lips were soft. Eddie wonders how it looked to have Steve dipping down to his level. Staying so quiet, so careful not to disturb him. The visuals swarm his head until there’s nothing left but Steve. 

Him and Steve. Connecting them together in that way after all.

So, Eddie gets up and walks back into the living room. He takes in the view of Steve curled up in the recliner, mouth slightly parted open. Chest falling with every sniffle, not quite a snore.

There’s so many emotions while looking at him. Eddie can’t just pin one down to fully comprehend what's going on. All he can do is repeat the scene that’s occupying his mind, settling in his bones.

“Here,” he whispers, placing another blanket across Steve’s lap. It’s feathery gentle, more than he intends for it to be. So gentle that Steve doesn’t shift or stir. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and bends down, close enough to notice all the little details. The ones he’s been too sheepish to indulge in before last night. 

The tiny hairs on Steve’s forearm. The creases in his t-shirt. The bit of dried toothpaste on his chin. None of it should make his cheeks feel this flushed, but they do.

He lets the rush of bravery wash through him as he kisses Steve on the tip of his nose. Just the way Steve must’ve done to him. It’s swift, lighter than he means for it to be. Barely touching. But it’s enough to switch his heart rate up a few notches, pulsing jumping in his wrist.

Eddie steps away, waiting to see if Steve wakes up. Not entirely sure if he wants that or if he’d rather keep this memory to himself. 

“Thanks… by the way.” Eddie adds, brushing the tips of his fingers over Steve’s hand. Wishing he could trace the lines in his palm. Rewind back to last night and pause it there indefinitely. “I’ll tell you again when you’re up, but yeah.”

“Thank you, Steve Harrington.”

[larcenywrites]

Hi English is not my first language, so sorry for the mistakes, but I could do a Kurt Wagner x reader, in which the reader follows the Wicca religion, or something linked to witchcraft, they are both in a relationship and I would like to see how their different beliefs would affect their relationship (already that Kurt is Catholic although I believe he has no prejudice in dating someone with a different religion I would like to see how this would affect their coexistence)

sorry for the writing errors

I have lots of thoughts about this that I can’t reflect in a single one shot, so for now I’ll do some headcanons! However, it would be interesting to parallel this with a spin on Kurt’s 2004 solo series! So I will probably do something with that :) Obviously, I can do research, but I am in no way knowledgeable about the practices nor those who practice wicca or witchcraft. I don’t want to generalize and say, like, “Kurt x witch reader”, but I’m not quite sure what else exactly to put :(

Nightcrawler with a Witch S/O

Headcanons

Warnings: aside from mentions of religion and witchcraft there’s nothing | I mean there’s some cute stuff here and there if it counts :)

⚜️ Kurt may be catholic, but his background is full of diverse people with different perspectives and practices!

⚜️ Scarlet Witch, his adopted mother, and his adopted sister all practice witchcraft, and he has a… well, decent enough relationship with all of them! But any of their spats have nothing to do with their way of life!

⚜️ He means well when he wants to drag you to mass Sunday morning. Really! He does! It’s something he’s done with every one of his friends by now, anyway, but it’s just that it’s a huge part of his life! He genuinely just wants you there! Sure, he can’t deny there’s always going to be some part of him that wants you to also be on some level of his own religion, but again, it’s from no place of ill will.

⚜️ After all, even though he has seen firsthand that this rule is relatively loose, I think it’s normal for someone in his belief system to worry whether their life partner will be able to join them in the afterlife :( He’s going to worry about it from time to time. He’s also definitely going to pray about it a lot. Take it in a sweet way— he just really cares about your love so much that he’s afraid it’ll have to end 🥲

⚜️ He also means well when he brings home various herbs and wildflowers he’s seen you use!! He probably even tries to make a cute little bouquet to present them! Obviously the source of said plants might not be ideal 😅 So maybe it’s time to expand a little garden! Plus, having a small garden if your preferred ingredients or offerings is a good way to teach him a thing or two in case he needs it (again), and he enjoys helping out in non-direct ways! Besides, gardening is a cute activity to do together 😘

⚜️ Speaking of which, while he’ll always be grounded in his faith, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t acknowledge everything around him! He’s seen demons and gods, magic and ghosts, heaven and… well, not hell, but you get the gist! So don’t worry, he knows well enough that not only what you do is real and powerful, but still a respectable craft. In fact, I’m sure he holds a deep respect especially if you tend to be one who thanks the Earth/ask permission for resources often. And you just might rub off on him! While he would be thanking God instead, it probably makes him more mindful of his everyday interactions with the environment 😌

⚜️ But because of his own beliefs, I’m sure certain practices or spells would make him nervous 😅 Because of this, if there’s a specific deity/god/goddess/etc you answer to/pray to that really clashes with his morals and beliefs, a relationship probably won’t last long.

⚜️ But just because some things make him nervous, it doesn’t mean he’s going to leave or anything. He might not partake in a tarot drawing or participate in certain things, but he still respects it and trusts you.

⚜️ But, uh, there might also be times when he’s literally in the next room holding the cross around his neck and praying aloud while you’re trying to do something 🤧 But this also works the other way around! Not only does it probably throw off either of your thoughts, but I’m sure it doesn’t help either of you when you both might be putting very different energy into the room rn 😅

⚜️ If for whatever reason you ever need something from him, like a bit of his fur, you probably have his permission already to just walk up to him with a pair of scissors! Even so, he usually asks billion questions 😒 So is it worth the hassle?

⚜️ While your beliefs and intentions may be different, you both might share quite a few daily rituals! Kurt won’t at all mind sharing the rug or the lawn with you if you meditate as often as he does. You both use it for similar reasons, really. It might even be both nice and interesting to have a conversation about any thoughts and experiences afterward 💙 Maybe, for once, you both found the answers you needed this morning and can share it :)

⚜️ But there are some other things he considers more “harmless,” so to speak that he does participate in. If you tend to journal things like dreams and daily experiences to cross reference later for any signs and such, he might do it too. Well- he’ll probably tell you his dreams or a reoccurrence he’s noticed (especially if it’s something that has been stressing him or maybe he’s just got a gut feeling he can’t explain) and see what you have to say about it! Just because you have different beliefs doesn’t mean he can’t find value in what you have studied and what you have to say!

⚜️ I’m sure many mornings he likes to drink teas with specific herbs and what they’re known for, and you might also partake in this! Of course, there’s probably much more intention behind the herbs you use, the way you prepare it, the way you stir it, but sometimes Kurt just likes to feel involved :)

⚜️ You don’t have to worry about him messing with any of your stuff! It’s probably out of both respect and paranoia, but he won’t mess with any alters or offerings or generally just the way you have your side of the room set up (though, probably after some gentle explaining here and there…)

⚜️ However, he may have a hard time with wanting to look at and touch any rocks and crystals… In a very respectful way, he just thinks they’re pretty and neat, okay? ;w; To be honest, get him one or two to have of his own that you think he needs when he’s stressed or when he’s out on missions. Kurt will carry them with him everywhere ❤️‍🩹 Because while he might not always believe that they carry this or that type of energy, he knows it means you care 🥰

[miiilowo]

You should make the list of ways you were correct anyways, just for fun ~

eh. sure. why not

Any time a post of mine about afton got a decent amount of notes (aside from fanart) there'd usually be comments on it complaining about how "those" fans [note: i am one of "those" fans] have no idea what his personality actually is, and that they water him down, woobify and mischaracterize him, all while listing things off that are just genuinely part of william's character. while yes, there are fans that DO do that, the stuff they talk about is almost never an actual example of this happening. this is likely due to people not viewing him as a person and just a bland cold serial killer with no personality whatsoever

obviously movie william is not 1:1 with game or book william, but they're gonna be similar in personality. so heres some stuff ive seen people complain was "mischaracterization" thats present in the movie:

hes emotional/sentimental and actually cares about things - william calls the owner of freddys sentimental when talking to mike about the pizzeria (and we all know the owner is william), he visibly regrets/is shocked by the fact he stabs vanessa, he gets really worked up when things dont go his way, very quick to anger, etcetera. one could argue that william is lying about being sentimental and just wants to give an excuse for why the place is still around, but there'd be no reason to do that, considering mike has no idea anyone even died there, let alone the fact HE killed the kids. we know williams sole motive for keeping the place around definitely isnt just sentimental reasons, but i doubt that what he said doesnt have at least an ounce of truth to it. he holds onto trophies from his kills as well if him keeping garretts toy plane is anything to go off of

he actually likes bunnies and has an affinity for them - he has a rabbits foot on his keyring and has a letter/paper holder that's rabbit shaped. the letter holder isnt actually in any shots, but it was present on set on his desk

his personality isnt one note and dull/cold, and hes superstitious & a little offputting/jittery - the rabbits foot on his keyring ties into this idea, because if he actually believes it to be a good luck charm, then it shows some "quirkiness" for lack of a better term that people adamantly refuse to admit is in his personality. this also shows how hes superstitious, which is an idea thats present in the books, and people also like to pretend he isnt. he pokes fun at mike in a somewhat lighthearted way multiple times, he has a has a FRAMED PARTICIPATION AWARD on his wall for christs sake. the kids hair colors match the animatronics they were stuffed into (minus bonnie). he matched them. he made them match he paired them up for fun. not only that, but he gets visibly nervous and antsy when he realizes who mike is, and clearly really wants him to take the job. gets kind of weird. gets a kinda strange. he likes when things match afterall (symmetry, my friend!)

he's theatrical and over the top in personality on purpose (this is also essentially an argument for the last point) - in the books he goes on and on about performance and how he viewed both dave miller & springtrap as characters he plays, and i seriously wouldn't doubt that it'd be the same here, considering how cartoonishly evil he is while wearing the springbonnie suit. the voice changer, the little flourishes he adds to his speech, the fact he wipes off the knife when there wasnt any blood on it in the first place. for what. for what reason other than for pizzazz and intimidation points. the "oh, this is going to be so much fun!" line, and especially his playful demeanor disappearing the second he takes off the mask

he cares about his kids/likes kids - his expression when he stabs vanessa and she falls to the ground says enough i think. obviously hes not a GOOD parent, but being a good parent and caring about your kids are two wildly different things. you can be abusive and still care. most abusers dont process that they are abusers but thats a conversation for another time. william prioritizes himself over anyone else, but he still looks shocked after he stabs his daughter, and i refuse to blame that on bad acting because its MATTHEW LILLARD. the training tape for mike also states that he enjoyed entertaining kids, and yes, while that could be a lie, do you seriously think the creator of what essentially is chuck e cheese would actually despise children. the fact he gives garretts toy plane to vanessa could be a point toward him in this department as well, though its also just as likely he collects them as trophies. i like to think its a mix of both

i included these points specifically because i also have a plethora of evidence for them from both the books and the games, and theyre the ones i most commonly see people stating are unrealistic for afton.

its not a lot of stuff, but its not like he has a lot of screentime. lets be real

i do ADORE how egotistical and shortsighted they made him in the movie, though everyone can generally agree on that being a staple trait of his

[franki-lew-yo]

Chicken Run 2 things I did really like:

It's a fun and small nod to irl chicken farming, but I like that the pen the chickens are kept in in Funtime Farms is an indoor pen. That's how modern poultry gets by on the "free range" excuse.

Genuinely appreciate how much and how well this movie states Ginger's awesomeness through Rocky or other people. It's not too distracting and it's earned. She is the iron chicken and it's a good way to hype up the character without telling you rather than showing you. God. I love Ginger.

Nick and Fetcher needed more scenes with Molly because them being attached and joining in just to save their "niece" is adorable and a great expanse on their characters. Good.

Rocky was a great dad and way better written than the original but still very much Rocky. That's how you do a 'wrote a potentially problematic love interest 20 years ago now here's them updated for modern ''wokeness' standards,' PIXAR. I liked him being both a hinderence and an accessory to Ginger. Shows why and what I like about them as a couple. I especially like how, without even showing you, that Rocky was the one to tell Molly what she needed to know but did not expand on just how traumatized Ginger really is from her ordeal. That's both in character and a believable thing a parent would do when their kid is simply prodding about their past, rather than directly asking their parent. Also, given it's Rocky and he already didn't have a perfect sitch going on as a circus animal, he probably didn't hype it up as perfect but more or less leaned into how adventurous he and Ginger were.

Ginger and Molly and their whole plot of not understanding each other was fine. Ginger being an overprotective parent who never wants to leave the island now and is enforcing her flock never to leave works better here than in contrived direct to video movies like Lion King 2 or Little Mermaid 2. The annoying thing about these kinds of stories is, simply put, the audience is screaming at the parent to just better communicate with their kids, especially when it's not like Ginger is too haunted to talk about the farm to other characters. What was needed, I think, was real establishment that Molly knows her mom escaped from a farm but doesn't truly know what a farm is and what would happen to her on one. Maybe also have it clear that Ginger is so set on being a "free chicken" she refuses to even talk about her past with Molly- somehow thinking that her old life before was beneath what she is now, even though she was the one who escaped from it and was always worth the lifestyle she deserves. Would be a great call forward to Ginger's slight (understandable) apathy for chickens outside her flock that would come full circle to her being the character she always is and is best at. Over all I liked her, Rocky and Molly a lot. I just wished I could have heard Julia Sawahla instead.

Pacing actually moved decently for once for a modern animated kids film. That's impressive, especially for a sequel.

Mrs. Tweedy saying she "gave Ginger everything a hen could ask for" was really illuminating for her character. Really, much as I wish this wasn't the same character, I love Mrs. Tweedy wanting revenge on Ginger. On a chicken. Her dialogue revealing that she thought the life she gave the chickens on her old farm was "good" for them tells you so much about her and how she sees herself as a good farmer only if she's a successful farmer.

Haha the ending shot is perfect.

Okay one thing about this movie- this may be actually be a bad thing depending on your diet choices -this movie makes me actually really hungry for chicken and chicken nuggets. This whole franchise isn't inherently vegetarian or trying to be anti meat, granted, but that is the take away from the character's perspective given that they are the chickens. To put this a different way: the first movie makes eating chicken really unappetizing from the beginning with the "roll call" scene and the pies the chickens would potentially turn into, over the top as it is, also unpleasant. You definitely don't get anything close to the "roll call" scene in this film. A chicken does die but it's all so offscreen it has no impact, so when she's cartoonishly instantly turned into nuggets that Mrs. Tweedy eats, you don't feel anything...you kind of wanna eat the nuggets. Apologies to any chickens reading that. Here, have some happy chickens to counteract the pain:

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Holy shit, Always on the Sidelines had to be one of my favorite fics. As a person with chronic pain I always feel like I’m pushed to the side and like I’ll never find someone who will love and care for me like that.

If you wrote more I would def be happy

(ok. im fangirling a lil bit because i absolutely LOVE your jamie tartt fics and i cant believe my fic has become one of your faves! anyway, here's a lil snippet after the events of Always On the Sidelines!)

Here On Out

Summary: You're out with Jamie and your friends, but then your leg decides to act up and you have a bit of a breakdown.

A/N: hurt comfort! also, i headcanon that Jamie is a 1D fan.

You're really fucking bummed out. You were having so much fun hanging out with Jamie and the boys, your friends, because, yes, his friends are now your friends and they all adore you and you them.

Anyway, you'd gone to a club with them that was having a One Direction night. Drinks were flowing and you were having so much fun dancing with Jamie, then singing at the top of your lungs with Keeley, taking shots with the guys. It was all so much fun...but then your knee started acting up.

You excuse yourself from the dancefloor and Jamie follows you with concern. But you brush him off, not wanting to ruin his fun.

"I'm just gonna rest for a bit. Go have fun." He hesitates and you practically push him back towards the dancefloor, "Go! I'll be fine!"

"Alright. But you tell me if it gets worse and we'll go, okay?"

"Okay," you shoo him away and as soon as he turned his back, you hobble your way to the bathrooms so you can cry.

As soon as you enter the women's room, you lean against the counter and let out a sob. You curse your knee for causing you so many issues. You can't play football, you can't be on your feet for long, you can't even last having fun with your fit as fuck footballer boyfriend! You felt so...broken.

Two women, a brunette and a red head, enter the bathroom laughing but then stop when they see you teary eyed. They immediately rush over to you, "Oh my God. Are you okay?" The red head asks.

"Do we need to kick someone in the dick?" the brunette asks.

You chuckle, "No. I'm fine...kinda."

"What's goin' on, babe?" the brunette asks, looking genuinely concerned for you.

You shake your head, "I had a knee injury a while back and it starts to hurt if I'm not my feet for too long or doing extensive movements."

"Do we need to get you someone?" the red head asks, wiping away some of your tears.

You shake your head again, "No. It'll go away eventually it's just," you let out a deep breath, "It just makes things complicated for me. Like, I came here with my hot boyfriend and we were having the best time and now my knee started hurting and I had to step away-"

"Why isn't your boyfriend with you?" the brunette asks.

"I told him not to worry about me. Didn't wanna ruin his fun."

The door opens again and Keeley lets out a sigh of relief, "Fucking finally! Jamie's looking all over for you! You're not answerin' your phone!" She suddenly takes note of your teary eyes, "Oh shit. I'm getting, Jamie."

"Wait, no-Keeley!" but your cries fall deaf on her ears as she rushes out in search of your boyfriend.

Red head looks back at you, "Wait, was that Keeley Jones?"

You nod, "Yeah."

Moments later, Jamie comes in, hand over his eyes, "Is everyone decent? No one with their undies down, right?"

You can't help but snort, "You're fine, Jams."

Jamie drops his hand and zeroes in on you, "What's going on?"

"Holy shit," brunette starts to freak out, "You're Jamie Tartt! You're-"

Keeley steps in, pushing red head and brunette out the door, "Right! Let's go dance, ladies!"

"But I still need to wee!" brunette exclaims.

"Hold it in!" Keeley replies aggressively.

It's now just you and Jamie left in the room. Jamie slowly approaches you, hands on your hips to steady you, "What's wrong?"

You let out a sob as you tuck your face into his neck, "I feel so broken!"

"Love, you're not broken."

"But I am! I can't keep up with you and I fucking hate it! I hate hurting all the time. I hate making you cut your time short when we're out with friends. I hate that you can't fully enjoy yourself when we're together. I-"

"Hey, hey. Look at me," he pulls back, gently holding your face in his hands, "You're. Not. Broken. Your injury doesn't define you. I mean, look at grandad! Sure, he had to retire 'cause of his leg, but he's still out there coaching us, giving us a hard time, still doing the things he likes to do. He doesn't let his injury stop him.

"And you shouldn't either. I don't care that if we have to leave parties or gatherings early because your leg hurts. All I care about is you and how you feel. I don't like you being in pain. That's why I always check in on you. I don't want ya sufferin'." He wipes the tears the slide down your cheeks.

"What if you get tired of me? Get tired of taking care of me?"

Jamie shakes his head, "Never. I experienced life without you and I was fucking miserable. Besides, like how cuddly you get when I take care of ya. Makes me feel loved and shit."

"Jamie Tartt, you're such a softie," you playfully say, nudging his shoulder.

"Only for you, love," he murmurs before kissing your forehead. You two stand there, just cherishing each other's presence for a bit.

Keeley then pops her head in and says, "You two coming out soon? 'Cause a line is forming and these girls really gotta go."

Jamie steps back and asks, "Can you walk?"

"I can limp," you reply.

He shakes his head, "Piggy back then," he turns his back to you, crouching down a bit.

You do your best to hop onto his back and he lifts you with ease. Keeley opens the door wider for you both, "Thanks, Keeley," Jamie says and his looks at the line of waiting women, "Sorry, ladies! Me girl wasn't feelin' well!"

Keeley follows the both of you to the booth where everyone was sitting and taking a break from dancing.

"Are you okay, Y/N?" Dani asks.

"My leg again," you sheepishly reply and the boys nod their heads in understanding.

"Feel better," Isaac says.

Colin chimes in, "Do you need help to the car?"

"Nah, mate, I've got it!" Jamie replies and pulls out a few hundred notes, passing them to Isaac, "Hope that covers our drinks and some of you lot!" the guys raise their glasses in cheers to Jamie and wave good-bye to the both of you.

Keeley and Roy follow you two out just in case.

"Can this count as some of me trainin', grandad?" Jamie asks.

"No," Roy rasps out and you giggle.

"Prick," Jamie mumbles with a smile.

When you get to Jamie's car, he helps you in and then gives Roy and Keeley a d hug good-bye. Roy nods at you and Keeley blows a kiss your way. You wave at them until Jamie drives away.

_____________

When you get back to Jamie's, he carries you to the bedroom you share. You undress while he runs a warm bubble bath for you.

Once it's ready you get in and he quickly undresses, sitting behind you. You sigh in relief as you lean back against his chest and he starts to softly massage your knee.

"See? Cuddly," Jamie murmurs against your neck and presses a kiss.

"I love you," you whisper as you close your eyes and let the water warm your body up.

Jamie's smiling wide. This isn't the first time you've said it to him, but it still makes him all bubbly inside when you say it.

"I love you too. Always will. From here on out."

[666writingcafe]

A Revealing Conversation

Lucifer

I don't know what exactly prompts me to do this, but I find myself walking inside the library with a cup of coffee in my hand. The door to the attached study is slightly ajar. Poking my head in reveals Zephyr fast asleep with their head resting on top of the desk. Setting the mug down on an empty spot on the desk, I touch their shoulder and gently shake it, successfully waking them up.

"What time is it?" they ask, rubbing the sleepiness out of their eyes.

"Eight," I respond."

"Morning?"

"Yes. I brought you coffee." Zephyr gives me a quizzical look. "I made a pot for myself, and I didn't want it to go to waste." A partial lie, but I don't want them teasing me if they knew the truth: that I intentionally made enough for the two of us to share.

"Thanks." They take a sip of the coffee, making a face as soon as the beverage hits their tongue.

Which is odd. I don't recall burning it.

"Oh, don't mind me," Zephyr tells me, setting the mug back down. "Some blends of Devildom coffee tend to be too bitter for my taste. I do appreciate you grabbing me a cup, though. It'll definitely help me feel more awake." They pause briefly. "Just out of curiosity, what did you use this morning?"

"Something called hell coffee, I believe? The person that helped me pick it out at the store said that it's rather strong, so I figured that meant it had a decent amount of caffeine in it."

"I see." They look slightly amused as they pick the mug up again. The next thing I know, they're downing the coffee like it was a shot.

Which I've only seen Diavolo do. It's not like I've done it.

Another lie. Why do I keep doing this to myself?

Zephyr softly smiles, appearing to pick up on my confusion.

"Someday, you'll understand why I did that, but for now, just know that some of the foods and drinks around here are laced with magic." Before I can tell them off for being vague, they turn their attention towards the biggest stack of paperwork and begin working through it. I should take that as my cue to leave them alone so that they can focus on what Diavolo assigned them.

But I don't. I can't.

I quietly sit down in one of the chairs across from them and watch them work for a moment. They seem poised, even when doing something this menial.

Even when punishing my brothers. How can they remain so composed when I want to scream and bang my head against the wall?

It just isn't fair.

"Something on your mind?" Zephyr asks, glancing up at me. If it weren't for the genuine curiosity in their eyes, I would've simply brushed them off by saying I was simply staring off into space or something.

Instead, I ask them,

"How can you stay calm in all this chaos?"

"Years of practice," they answer, still focused on their paperwork. "And knowing that there will always be quiet periods where I can decompress."

"What about in the moment, when you're confronted with it and can't escape it?"

"Well, that's when I start cursing to myself. The key with dealing with chaos is to not let your frustrations show. If the people around you sense that you're upset, then they're more likely to reflect those emotions back at you, making everything that much more tedious to slog through."

"What would you call last night, then?" Zephyr appears to contemplate my question as they continue working.

"Karma." In an attempt to hold back laughter, I end up going into a coughing fit.

"Hold your arms up," they instruct. "It'll relax the muscles enough for you to breathe properly." Surprisingly, their advice works.

"Better?" I nod my head. What I feel to be an awkward silence settles between us, but given their peaceful demeanor, it's probably just me.

"You can stay if you want, Lucifer. I don't mind your presence. We can continue talking, or you can simply enjoy the quiet if that's what you'd prefer."

"How are you not scared of me?" The question slips out of my mouth before I can stop myself.

"Pardon?" Zephyr's giving me their full attention now. I shouldn't have said anything.

Because now I can't hold back anymore.

"Most people either see me as a heartless monster or put me on this ridiculously high pedestal. They get so nervous around me that they can't even string two words together, let alone have a proper conversation with me. I wish I can say that my brothers are exceptions to that, but I can't. I still see the fear in their eyes sometimes when they look at me. The only way I've been able to have some degree of companionship is with those in the same position of authority as me, and even then they have to get used to me first before they feel comfortable around me.

"I think you might just be the first to see me as a normal person. Even Diavolo looks at me like I'm a shiny new toy, and he's the closest thing I have to a friend in this godforsaken place. I just don't understand how a previously low-ranking demon is able to do the one thing no one else has been able to do in my entire existence. What do you have that they don't?"

Zephyr sets their pen down. I wouldn't be surprised if they told me to leave. I just dumped a whole lot of trauma on their lap without seeing if they were okay with it.

"Many years ago, I met someone that was pretty similar to you," they respond. "He intimidated everyone they came into contact with due to both his attitude and position. He also tended to push anyone that wanted to get close to him away. I didn't let him do that to me. Even when he screamed at me to go away, I stubbornly stuck around. After a while, he decided that he might as well trust me if I was that determined to stay by his side, and he did. It didn't happen all at once, but little by little, he allowed me to see the more vulnerable, intimate sides of him that he previously kept to himself.

"So, to answer your question, Lucifer, I'd like to think I have a pretty decent amount of patience and compassion. Certainly more than a lot of people in this world."

"Do you still keep in contact with him?" I ask after several moments of silence. The question seems to make Zephyr a bit sad.

"Unfortunately, no. I was forced to move far away from him and assume a new identity. To reach back out to him would put both of us in harm's way, and I care too much about him to do that to him."

"Do you love him?" They don't answer me initially. "I understand if you don't want to tell me. I'm probably overstepping my boundaries--"

"Yes." They look directly into my eyes. "I miss him every single day. If circumstances were different, I would have married him and spent the rest of my life with him. But that simply isn't possible."

"Zephyr, I--"

"It's not your fault, Lucifer. You didn't know." They softly smile. "I've learned a long time ago to not dwell too much on the past, because then you end up missing out on the present, which is chock full of fun and exciting opportunities. Instead, it's best to think of the past as lessons that you've learned, and to use that knowledge to help you grow and develop as a person. Does that make sense?"

Before I can respond to them, someone loudly knocks on the front door. Zephyr hits the power button on their phone to check the time.

"Son of a bitch," they mutter.

"What?" I ask.

"Oh, I told Solomon to pick me up at around nine so that I can drop stuff off at home before we run some errands. It's just that I hoped to be more or less ready to go when he arrived."

"I'm sorry, Zephyr. If I'd known you were expecting him--"

"It's quite alright!" they exclaim. "No need to apologize. I enjoyed talking to you."

Has the study always been this warm, or is it just me?

"I'll at least help you gather your stuff." Zephyr smiles.

"That'd be lovely, Lucifer. Thank you."

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[f1nalgirlz]

sleepovers are fun! | Charlie Walker ♡

In which Charlie and y/n have a special moment at Kirby’s “kick off for October sleepover”

≪warnings≫ sexual content, nsfw, feminine pronouns, alcohol

≪ contents≫ Charlie Walker x you, Charlie Walker x Reader, exhibitionism kind of??, creampie, oral sex (fem receiving), p in v, kinda dom charlie?

The sun was setting as Y/N walked to Kirby’s house, it being the first day of October the air was cool. As she tracked along, she examined all the trees that were shifting in color smiling to herself. Y/N absolutely loved this time of year, and she was excited to be going to a sleepover that celebrates it. It was Kirby’s annual kickoff October sleepover that she’d came to every year since 8th grade. It was a tradition they were happy to continue every year being best friends, of course more people joined over the years. Y/N broke from her thoughts as her shoes hit Kirby’s stairs, instantly running up them and knocking on her door. After a few moments the door swung open and there stood her very best friend, Kirby, who pulled Y/N into a tight hug, dragging her inside. She looked around and smiled. “no one else get here yet?” she asks, looking inquisitively at Kirby. “Nope. Not yet! You’re first as always, Y/N.” she grinned at her and began leading her to the kitchen. “Shall we have a few drinks on this fine night?” She asks, leaning on her counter. Y/N nodded. “Yes, please.” She said happily as Kirby started making the drinks. Soon, familiar faces started pouring in. Jill and her douche boyfriend Trevor, Olivia, Robbie, and last to arrive was Charlie. Charlie was probably Y/N’s closest friend besides Kirby. What she didn’t know however, was how big of a raging crush Charlie had been harboring for her for years. He hid it decently well, not daring to speak it out loud to anyone, but he jumped at any opportunity to be alone with y/n or even just near her.

The night had gone well so far, everyone was having fun and gotten a few drinks in them. It was at this point in the night someone, maybe Olivia, had expressed they should play truth or dare, which everyone happily agreed to in their slightly inebriated shape. A few turns went by, daring a few people to take shots or silly secrets being confessed. When it was Charlie’s turn, Kirby asked him the question that lit everyone’s nerves up. “Truth or dare, Charlie?” It seemed like he was thinking before answering, “Dare.” As he answered Kirby face changed a little, a mischievous smile working its way onto her lips. See, Kirby had kind of sussed out Charlie’s crush on her best friend. Of course he’d never said it out loud to her, but she could just tell when things shifted. When slowly Charlie’s crush on her had fizzled out, yet he still lingered closely around her and her best friend. She’d never told Y/N about it of course, she believed herself to be a better person than someone who’d rat out someone’s crush. “Charlie, I dare you to kiss Y/N. Not a peck either really plant one on her!” She said, laughing happily.

“Kirby!” Y/N gasped, shooting her a look. It’s not that she’d had anything against Charlie, far from it, but she was a little nervous something as silly as a truth or dare kiss would jam a wedge in their friendship. “You guys have to, it was a dare.” Olivia chimed in, gaining nods in agreement from Jill and Trevor. Charlie, who was sitting beside you just shrugged, trying to act cool on the outside even though his insides were burning up. He was genuinely having an internal freak out. Getting to finally kiss you had NOT been in his plans. “Let’s just go for it,” Y/N mumbled, leaning in towards Charlie. He slightly panicked but shoved their lips together, the kiss lasted for a few moments before they both pulled away. The group around them laughing, cheering, and clapping at the two. As much as y/n really wanted to deny it, she felt something…it felt different. It felt good and she liked it, maybe it was because she was slightly tipsy but for the rest of the game she found herself craving more, glancing over at Charlie. Nobody really noticed.

It had gotten much later, everyone had found their way to a place to sleep. Robbie had taken his sleeping bag into an office room, closing the door behind him. Kirby went to her bed, inviting Y/N and Jill to go with her as they slept every year but only Jill accepted. Olivia followed the two up the stairs, sleeping bag in hand. Trevor had found his way to a spare bedroom quickly, as if he didn’t want anyone to steal it.

Y/N simply needed to clear her head alone, worried about what those feelings from earlier meant. She’d walked into an empty room, changing into some shorts and taking her bra off, just wanting to be comfortable. As she laid on the couch, her thoughts were cut short as Charlie walked back in from the bathroom where he’d been. Hair still damp from the shower he’d been taking. He was grabbing his sleeping bag off the floor and walking right towards Y/N. She sat up. “Is it cool if I sleep in here? I don’t want to bother you.” He said. She nodded, her heart speeding up. Why? Why now? “Uh yeah sure.” She said,looking at him as he began to lay out his sleeping bag on the ground next to the couch. They’d slept like this before at different sleepovers throughout the years, so why now did it make her heart beat out of her chest? As Charlie sat down onto his sleeping bag, sorting himself out for the night, y/n got up rather abruptly. She walked into the kitchen, grabbing a glass and pouring herself at least 3 shots, gulping them all down at once. Charlie noticed, but chose to not chase after her, simply watching from the living room floor. Y/N made her way back and sat down on the couch, looking down to Charlie on the floor. She couldn’t stop thinking about him, his lips, the way his lips felt on her own… she felt like she was going crazy. “Are you okay?” He asked her, but he didn’t receive an answer he got met with lips against his own. Her hands grabbed onto his cheeks as she made her way onto the floor with him. While he was internally freaking out, he was incredibly excited, grabbing onto her waist and pulling her into him. They continued like that for a while until Charlie rolled her over onto her back, hovering over her as they stared at each other. “I want you.” She whispered, staring at him, it’s like all the internal tension has solved itself and she knew exactly what she wanted. He gave her a nod and dipped back down for a kiss, trailing those kisses down her neck, his wet hair making her shiver as it touched her arm. He slowly pulled up her tank top, attacking her, now bare, chest and stomach with slow kisses. Both of their cheeks were burning red at this point. As he made his way down to her waist band, he looked up at her to see her nodding, almost pleading. His fingers latched on to her shorts and tugged them down, panties coming with them. He stared at her heat for a moment, cheeks burning but it didn’t take long for him to enthusiastically bury his face between her thighs. He’d never done anything like this before, but he had watched hours of porn and tutorials, hoping and praying that one day this moment would come. He began licking her folds, making his way to find her clit. When she gasped a little louder than previously, he assumed he’d found it, beginning to lick at the bundle of nerves. Y/N’s body reacted so well to him, she felt like her whole body was on fire. As Charlie licked more aggressively, beginning to suck on the bud every now and again, she could feel slick dripping from her hole. She was doing her best to stay quiet but let out a low moan when Charlie sank a single finger into her, continuing with his mouth at the same time. The one was followed by another and soon Y/N was gently shaking all over. He pulled his fingers out, moving his head down to her hole to get one last lick, filling his mouth with her wetness. She whined when he stopped and looked at him. “Why’d you stop?” She huffed out, but he just smiled softly. “Do you want to go further?” He whispered, she caught on and nodded. He pulled down his plaid green pajama pants and underwear. His cock bounced out clearly already hard, just from eating her out. He grabbed his dick with one hand lining it up with her hole and pushing just the tip inside her. She moaned, feeling like her insides were just throbbing for him. He continued to push his cock into the warm embrace of her wetness, grabbing under her knees and pushing them back, exposing more of her. He nearly drooled at the sight of his dick buried in her pussy.

Y/N felt like she could barely breathe, her cunt ached around his cock, needing movement or she felt like she would explode. As if reading her mind, Charlie slowly started thrusting into her, the wet sound her pussy made as he fucked into her, just made him hornier. The two tried to remain quiet, only letting out soft moans and grunts. Charlie had sped up, removing one hand from under her legs and moving it to almost grip onto her pussy, locating her clit with his thumb and rubbing it, this sent a shock through her body and her legs twitched. She felt so close to an orgasm she could hardly think, gripping onto Charlie’s sleeping bag with one hand and digging her nails into his shoulder with the other. She soon felt a hot liquid shooting deep into her, filling up her insides followed by the sound of Charlie moaning, body shaking. This sent her over the edge, her body shaking as she orgasmed, pussy clenching around Charlie, milking every last drop from him. When he finally pulled out, they were both panting. They kissed again, another slow kiss. Charlie pulled his pants back up, as well as Y/N’s trapping his cum that was flowing out inside her panties. She sat up and pulled her tank top down, blushing deeply. “So um..” she started but was interrupted by the sound of feet coming down the stairs.

R: Soooo… idk if anyone will actually read this, I need to express my hyperfixation somehow. I haven’t written anything like this in years so please bare with me. If someone does read this I’d love more ideas please please please!!! 🩷

[batsplat]

Not to want to get you into hot waters but one of the blogs on here shared Marc’s onboard from the 2015 sepang kick incident and I’m a bit unsure how anyone could watch that and not consider it a deliberate kick? Really don’t want anyone to get mad because I’m no expert so maybe there’s something about Valentino’s movements that allows for the “accidental” kick option but if so, what is it? Because as a layman, watching it… I wish it were possible to show that video to Valentino and make him explain exactly how that kick was not on purpose…

I think it's genuinely ambiguous! this is what's interesting about it, right - if you look at the onboards and the helicopter shots there's a decent chance that depending on what you watch you'll end up with a pretty different view on it, and it's inarguable that from certain angles it looks incredibly like a kick. it's also inarguable that whether valentino kicked marc or not, he did deliberately attempt to run him wide, which you can see was intentional by how he looks behind him just before they make contact. it's still not clean riding whichever way you look at it, which is why he got the penalty

I'm going to defer to someone else's opinion here myself (you'll find I link back to this site a lot and broadly consider it trustworthy), from a bloke who does very much believe valentino was in the wrong that weekend. this is in the aftermath of the fim requesting that honda doesn't release data which would have 'proven' valentino kicked marc in an entirely futile attempt to make the controversy die down. the piece talks first about what data like this even involves, including this bit:

the main point here is that the data isn't going to tell you whether valentino kicked him or not, because that's not something you can actually read in data. I have another ask that's vaguely related to this sitting in my drafts, but it's always been one of the most interesting elements of all the controversy in late 2015 - both sides attempting to definitively prove the unprovable with a few numbers. let's quickly bring in what arguments both sides as well as race direction made in the immediate aftermath from the post-race piece by the same author:

that's valentino's explanation, right, marc's handlebar hit valentino's knee, which caused the leg movement as well as the crash. a little more from the immediate post-race write-up:

basically, the view here is that the two bikes make contact - and as a result of where marc hits valentino, valentino's foot is dislodged from the foot peg, catching marc's handlebars in the process. again, none of this actually exonerates valentino. whether there was a kick or no kick, you are NOT allowed to run another rider off-track! whether valentino literally wanted marc to crash or not, this was always going to be a possible consequence of his actions - which he would have known was the case! it is obviously worse to kick someone, partly because it just feels like a particularly egregious offence, but there is no version of this story where valentino comes out with a clean scorecard

as the 'post-honda promising to release conclusive evidence' piece goes on to say:

of course, all this is just one bloke's view. I don't think it's unreasonable to believe that valentino did kick marc. but I also struggle to see how it's a clear cut case for the prosecution. again, however, it really is important to stress that valentino by his own admission was engaging in an extremely dubious move. the kick would be the cherry on the icing, if you will, but running another rider so wide that you are probably trying to force them to leave the track is generally not considered acceptable behaviour. the kick question is very much something everyone has to decide for themselves - or not! I still think it's the ambiguity that helps make the whole thing so interesting, that every single clash between the two of them that year still has so many unanswered questions. that both sides have their own unshakeable views of events - sometimes close to 'reality' and sometimes a little less so, sometimes reasonable and sometimes anything but. it's the subjectivity and the fallibility of the human capacity to understand events that we ourselves have experienced - it's this lack of knowability for both outsiders and insiders that makes it so endlessly fascinating and rewarding to analyse. even the two men themselves cannot completely understand what happened that day, what happened in those few seconds, and they never will. we're all in the dark, in the end

[snakejar]

the whole williams thing is so bizzare and i am sure absolutely nobody wins from it.

i get that alex is the objectively better driver. i get how important points or even positions are in the bigger picture of the constructors championship and finance wise, and i get that alex has a far better shot of doing better. but this leaves such a sour taste in everyone's mouth that im not sure its worth it.

if you look at the current scene on social media, its a shitshow. williams' comments sections are filled with disapproval, and people are hating both alex and logan with vigour. this is horrible moment for williams.

and what if alex gets into the points? what if he actually does deliver and bumps williams up the rankings? its not a good look anyway. people are going to say he hasnt earned it, he doesnt deserve it, and they're going to be annoyed. the f1 crowds love drama and they love it when drivers fail. they come into the race with expectations that alex is going to fail and fumble the second chance that williams has given him in the form of logan's car, and if he doesnt, then they're going to be pissed that their expectations haven't been fulfilled.

but what if alex doesnt get any points? people are going to point and laugh and they are going to turn their backs on alex and williams more than they have on friday and saturday. again, people love mocking mistakes and disappointment. worse yet, what if alex crashes again? sends it into the wall in turn 8 the same way he did in fp1? he and williams will never hear the end of it.

i cannot imagine the hit this will do to logan's confidence. he was the last driver to get resigned in 2023, but by signing him, williams have put faith in him. they have put trust in his development and his performance for 2024. the level of disrespect this is to logan is genuinely crazy. logan has done nothing but do his best and play for the team, but he has to pay for alex's mistake, and now it is another missed opportunity for him to prove himself. if you look at free practice results from the aus gp, logan and alex's times weren't even separated by a massive margin. there's a huge probability that logan is not going to get resigned for the 2025 season, and there are very few chances for him to prove himself this season. by doing this, williams is telling logan that they have no faith in him, they don't believe he'll perform when they need him to. im afraid this might be the start to the end of logan's f1 career.

what's worse is that williams has lately been the team that appealed to the fans. even if they consistently drove around in the back of the field, fans still loved them for their team dynamic and their drivers and being a small team. they need fan support, because if they dont have the best drivers or a decent cars, then they need to at least have people backing them. but this is just so cold and so un-williamslike, and is going to take a hit on the amount of support they have going forward.

at the end of the day, f1 will always be a game of money. time and time again formula 1 has proved that it cares more about profit than the careers of their drivers. teams will obviously do what will get them the most points, positions, and ultimately prize money. but unless alex pulls off a goddamn miracle in the race tomorrow, i really do not think that any of this is worth it in the end.

[moltengoldveins]

So while discussing the grand trifecta of Weirdly Good Animated Films From The 2000s (El Dorado, Atlantis: The Lost Empire, and Treasure Planet) was uh. Was anyone gonna tell me that there was a fourth? A lost sibling. A prodigal son, if you will???? was anyone gonna tell me about Titan AE or was I going to have to find out about it from a RANDOM PINTEREST PIN??

Listen to me. YALL. It’s so good. What the heck. It’s so good?! The plot is surprisingly decent, the animation slaps, theres significantly more violence than I expected and it honestly makes the film better. Animated films usually suffer from the ‘we want this to make it past the censors and be good for kids’ mentality and this one, despite being pg somehow, doesn’t. Several people are shot (yes including blood) and someone gets their neck broken ON SCREEN. The ship fights are incredible and there are a few sequences I genuinely don’t think could have been done in any other medium. The romance is definitely simple, based largely on mutual attraction, but they go out of their way to show them growing as friends and working together. The side characters are fun and the WORLDBUILDING??? The number of times something happened in the film and I thought ‘holy crap, I can’t believe they thought of that’ was insane. Character’s remembering in a panic to exhale before spending a few seconds in the vaccine of space, blood floating around in zero-gravity, characters navigating spaces sideways because they’re designed for use when thrust is coming from a different direction, the main character slowly figuring out how the bad guys worked and using that knowledge to defeat them, some of the music in the film being diagetic in-world music played over comms, surprisingly respectful racial diversity for a movie made in 2000, literally everything was incredible.

Also everyone is hot. That’s definitely a plus. It’s like if you took the aesthetic of Treasure Planet and crossed it with Atlantis’s plot. I know there’s a better comparison here but I’m unfortunately not very well versed in sci-fi media. I’m genuinely impressed. I usually don’t immediately turn around and want to rewatch stuff like that but I’d absolutely watch that again. 10/10 everyone should watch this movie; I’m infuriated that it flopped even worse than the other three and I only just now watched it.

[2demondogs]

Hey! If you are still accepting requests, could you possibly do some Charles and Lenny friendship headcanons or one shot? An underrated duo

I am :D This was fun to write! A true "we are not enemies but I don't fw your vibes" to "excuse me Charles did not want pickles on his burger" arc.

Everyone does the LENNYYY joke but anytime I read his name I can only hear this one lyric I misheard as "KENNY!" from I Know You're Fucking Someone Else. (Worst discovery ever: it's "hickey.")

Their horses were friends first. Taima can chill with the best of them, and Maggie is much more reserved than her owner. They drift off now and then from the others to eat grass together. And ain't that darnedest thing? Charles thinks Taima is a decent judge of character, and that how well a man takes care of his horse says a lot about him. Otherwise, he'd probably not have entertained Lenny for very long.

It is a struggle to get to know one another. That first wall is always the toughest to tear a hole in with someone as reserved as Charles, so Lenny doesn't stop trying. He sees how the man gets along with Arthur and John, and he wants at least a hello out of him now and then, too. He also prefers to be on good terms with people, and he suspects Charles despises him for some reason he can't grasp. Unfortunately, he just kinda looks like he hates everyone. (Charles also isn't too fond of him, but that's besides the point.)

After the first genuine conversation, things get smoother. It was pure luck catching Charles on a chatty day — meaning he nodded a greeting instead of ignoring him — in which everything seemed to be going wrong within camp. Though he usually remains optimistic and lighthearted, Lenny's serious side is much more Charles' speed. They have a good talk about where things are going and where they've been, why exactly Miss Grimshaw is like that, why Swanson is like that, and where all the money in the world seems to go.

They're more like brothers than friends, and Lenny's age shows often, if you ask Charles. Every time they speak, he's shooting down some big idea or fighting for his life to understand a joke. It's tiring, but, well... it's Lenny. He isn't sure how or when he got to the point of dismissing things as that's just Lenny, but he's starting to feel a little protective of him. Worse, sometimes he feels proud to see him pulling off the stunts he does for the gang.

Lenny's youth does show, truthfully. Fresh off his teenage years, he's done believing that he has his head sorted out. Usually, he ends up talking to Hosea about worries like his future. Charles' general, on-the-surface apathy (read: fear) towards that big question is put in jeopardy any time the subject comes up, whether it's because something's happened or just an occasional nineteen-year-old crisis. After a few awkward trail offs, he finally admits he doesn't know what the Hell he's doing either, and Lenny feels infinitely better that he's not the only one. Without realizing it, he'd started looking up to Charles. Which, of course, he's going to balance out by poking him with a proverbial stick later. Or maybe a real one.

The first time Lenny goes hunting with Charles, the rest of their respect for one another falls into place. He pays attention and does it well, which shocks Charles a little despite his increasingly positive opinions of him. He's a fast learner, and he actually gives a damn about listening to him despite all the teasing he does day-to-day. Lenny finds himself enjoying getting more than a few sentences out of Charles, especially over a skill he takes pride in.

[charon-cries]

i’ve just seen your answer to the question about good omens and i’d love to hear the trouble you had getting into Gaiman’s shows— I’ve had a similar experience of getting them recommended quite highly and finding that, upon watching them, they’re not quite as compelling as they sounded. Good Omens especially has grown a rather large and dedicated fandom, so I haven’t seen many more lukewarm reactions, and it’s nice to hear other people’s varying analyses!

IT'S BECAUSE HE WROTE THESE SHOWS LIKE HE WRITES HIS COMICS!!!

i'm a comic book reader and i clocked it IMMEDIATELY when watching sandman— there was very little work done to translate the comic into a different medium! TV shows have very different needs than comic books do with pacing. it's very difficult NOT to see if you've read at least one comic book series.

i had assumed this was just a quirk of it being Sandman. i mean, writing a comic book adaptation LIKE a comic does make a lot of sense on paper.

but when i started watching good omens season 2 i started noticing the exact same thing!! it was much more toned down in good omens than it was in sandman, for pretty obvious reasons, but i genuinely believe that if he had turned season 2 into a comic book series instead i would have enjoyed it MUCH more. that type of pacing really just doesn't work as well on screen and in my personal opinion, it leaves the experience feeling a bit disjointed

a great comic does not always equal a great tv show, they're pretty different mediums. i'm very sure that the sandman show was FAR more enjoyable to those who have, unlike me, read those comics and are more familiar with the characters themselves, but i didn't do that, so there wasn't a lot of time for me to be anything more than just intrigued by dream.

because the show is the only material i had, there were no little asterisks on the camera shots telling me where i could read more about him. i could go back and read the comics, and to be honest, there's a very decent chance that i WILL do that, but i feel that the show itself should have been tasked with making me love dream the way i already love lucifer. you know?

so when it comes to good omens season 2 (and take this with a grain of salt, because i only watched it one time, when it came out, BECAUSE my feelings on the show were so lukewarm) being written relatively similarly...

do i care about gabriel and beelzebub? no! i really didn't, i felt quite neutrally about them the entire time. i understood exactly why they were there, and i even LIKED their role in the story, but it felt like the show had assumed i was already invested in them despite the fact that we've barely seen them.

as for the outrage, i think this is why there were so many people who got so mad at season 2's ending. i really don't think the breakup came out of nowhere. it's another thing i actually really liked, in theory! it was set up well, even throughout season 1, and it makes sense with aziraphale's character. but a lot of people felt like they had the rug pulled from under them because of gabriel/beelzebub in addition to the breakup.

i don't think that writing shows similarly to comic books is NECESSARILY a bad thing. i mean, it clearly worked for a LOT of people, considering that the love (and hate) for these shows was so large. people got invested enough to be mad about the breakup, people got invested enough for waves of people to decide that the sandman show is their absolute #1. but it really did not work for me! it just left me kind of apathetic in both cases.

in the very least, i do genuinely think i would have ADORED good omens season 2 if we got some comics about the angels and the demons before it came out. the issue for me was a lack of context. we really are just getting slices of these characters' lives, but those slices felt so small, and i so so so wish that we got to see more.

i don't have any credentials or anything, i'm no champion of creative writing (and in fact i really struggle with the act of writing itself) and by no means do i think i could've done a better job than he did. just some things i felt/thought as a viewer!