#but apparently I don’t know how to do both combined

[justevelynnnn]

He’s better

Summary: After constant mistreatment from your boyfriend Logan, someone else starts to catch your attention…

Warnings: Smut near the end, cheating mentioned, cussing, logan gets kinda cucked in the end

A/N: I’m in my Scott summers era rn. I’m here to feed all 12 of the cyclops fans with this one💯

You really don’t know how or when this feeling started.

Logan hasn’t been treating you right in ages. The relationship you two started was passionate. But that was the issue. “Passionate” in this case just means sex. Lots of it. And it was cool and all at first, especially because Logan was very good in bed.

Veryyy good.

But that was it.

Valentine’s day came and he did nothing but offer to get you off for a few hours. Couple of lazily thrown rose petals on the bed. A chocolate bar. He never got you flowers or spent actual time with you.

Your final straw was your one year anniversary.

What did he do?

He forgot.

You hinted all day but he just looked at you sideways. Then he had to “leave” early in the day and said he wouldn’t be back for days. You said nothing. You just stared at him as he left with a bag full of clothes, cigars and booze. That was another pet peeve.

He was so bad at communicating. Not even a kiss goodbye nowadays.

You knew what most would ask at this point. What did you think you signed up for??? That was Logan Howlett for you. Cigars for breakfast, Booze for lunch and a combination of both for dinner. And the sex thing was just obvious. That man loved sex but did he reallyyy care for a serious relationship?

Obviously not.

Jean and Scott find you crying outside after Logan left on you guys anniversary and offered to take you out for drinks. You wanted to take your mind off things so you agreed and that night you three went to a nearby bar.

Scott decided to be the driver so he didn’t drink but you drank a few. You and Jean sat at the bar and Scott sat at a booth by the door, looking out the window but also occasionally looking over at you two. Jean also got drunk for some reason, but you later found out it was because her and Scott were also having relationship issues.

Jean was starting to become sloppy and just before you turned to tell Scott, Jean started crying and confessing random things to you. Guilty conscience you supposed. Wasn’t this night for you?

She tells you times she lied to Charles and things she said that she regrets. But one thing stuck out to you.

Apparently, she slept with logan a month ago.

You froze. What?

She claimed she did it to get him off her back and stop flirting but apparently that’s made him worse and now Scott is mad and is threatening to break up with her.

By now she’s crying hysterically and the bartender had told you guys to leave. Scott shakes his head in annoyance and disappointment as he rushed over and apologizes to you.

It was then you thought.

Maybe it’s cause you were tipsy but in the dim, soft light of the bar Scott looked kind of…..hm.

Wait, did he always look this good? No, no, no…well?

Was his jaw always that defined? Wait a minute.

You watched as he carried an inconsolable Jean out the bar.

Those arms…those muscles…

Hm.

Scott broke up with Jean the next day.

Logan was still gone so you had your shared room to yourself but you supposed you’d break up with him too. Not that he’d care since he couldn’t take you seriously.

You were still very hurt as you sat in the kitchen at the island with a glass of wine. How’d you get hung over from a few drinks? Your head pounded while your heart hurt with sadness.

Scott came in a few minutes after you got settled.

“Hey, y/n…” He said as he walked to the fridge.

You mumbled a soft “hey.” as you looked up at him.

Why was he shirtless? Good lord.

Those abs…

Maybe you were still drunk because Scott was looking very sexy right now.

“Hey, sorry for last night again.. I don’t know what’s gotten into her..” Scott sighed and put his hands on his hips. “I’ve been nothing but loyal to her.”

“You and me both..” You said sadly. You didn’t even realize how you and Scott were in the same boat of being cheated on.

Scott smirked as he saw you still staring at his torso.

“Feeling all right over there?” He asked, playing innocent.

You jump. Shit, has he caught on already? You quickly replied, “Oh, yeah yeah, just.. bit hungover I guess.”

He nodded and moved to sit next to you still smiling.

“I got a few remedies for that yknow…”

You could also smell his breath now. Minty.

Hundred times better than beer or whiskey. Actually clean.

He was so close now as he leaned in a bit. He licked his lips too. Those lips..so many details about him you never noticed til now… You could feel his eyes on you as you shifted in your seat. Remedies? You hated where your mind was going.

His “remedy” was to eat food and not drink more.

You felt like a dumbass. You needed to get your mind out the fucking gutter.

And this stuff went on for a bit.

In the few days Logan was still gone you stole many glances at Scott. One day, you caught him in just gray sweatpants working out. You watched as his body moved, glistening with sweat. Listening to his grunting. Then looking away when he looked your way.

You didn’t know what got into you either but you just couldnt shake Scott off your mind.

You thought about him when you woke up, went to bed, worked out, watched tv…

He ran circles.

And he was so kind to you after Logan got back. You and him had an argument about Jean and how he forgot the anniversary thing a few days ago. He said some hurtful things to you. Really hurtful. Scott comforted you as you cried again, rubbing your shoulder and telling you everything it gonna be okay.

He brought you a few flowers with a ribbon tied around the stems.

“Just something to cheer you up.” He said smiling at you.

He cooked you dinner another day—your favorite foods too, how interesting, how’d he know?— and even offered to teach you after you ate it and complemented his cooking.

This went on for weeks. This “nice” thing quickly turned into flirting.

It horribly irritated Logan to see but he says nothing much.

Jean apologized to you again and again and you didn’t know if you ever really wanted to accept her apology. She stayed away from logan now, responding harshly to his attempts of flirting. It was his “fault” she lost Scott she’d tell him.

And she was so caught up with teaching she didn’t notice how close you and Scott were becoming either.

You were worried. Scott made you melt but you were worried if you were just some rebound or if you slept with him it would just be some stupid payback to logan. How would you know if he was just buttering you up just to get between your legs and then leave?

But maybe you were too swooned to care. You started to hang out with him more and more, like you teo were already dating. You thought, why not? He was sweet to you, caring, patient…

He even opened up to you. No offense to Logan but you were tired of prying for answers on true feelings.

One afternoon, after a month of heavy flirting and sneaky touches, you were in his bed. One thing led to another and now you two were sloppily making out, hastily removing clothes from each other. The door was left wide open. You were worried if anyone would hear and tried to tell Scott but he ignored you, pulling your panties off.

Maybe he wanted a certain someone to hear..

“You’re so beautiful, y/n.” Scott said taking your nude body in, probably saving a mental image.

Scott was in nothing but his boxers now. You could see the semi-hard on. You were no longer distracted by the open door. He was big alright. Not that Logan was too but with Scott it was more length than girth.

“Scott…this is…i still haven’t broken up with him yet…are you sure we should be doing this?” You breathed. You wanted this…so bad. But it wasn’t right.

“So? Mentally, you have. Plus..”, He kisses your neck and whispers in your ear, “He doesn’t know how to treat someone like you clearly.”

His soft voice sends shivers down your spine. He gently thrusts against you once more as you softly moan his name. He’s right. Logan didn’t know how to treat you. Not anymore at least. He was always rough and quick with you but Scott…so patient, calm. Soft.

Scott kisses you one more time then he gets up to grab a condom (be safe guys!) and pulled his boxers down.

“Fuck…” You say barely audible but Scott hears you and smirks.

“Like what you see?”

You just nod. He was beautiful. Head to toe. And where has he been hiding all of that dick?

Scott climbs on top of you once more, rubbing and kissing all over you. Practically worshiping your entire body. Savoring you like he will never fuck anyone ever again.

He rubs your clit once more, preparing you for when he enters and asks you if you’re ready. Again, all you could do is nod as he lines himself up with you. He tells you to take a deep breath and let him know if he needs to stop at any point. God, he was so so gentle with you.

It was definitely a stretch.

It’s been awhile honestly. Scott let you adjust as you heard your breath hitch. He rubs comforting circles on your clit once more and kissed your lips softly.

Once you were ready he started to move. He was nice and slow at first, giving you a few good deep thrusts. It didn’t take long for him to bottom you out. Then he changed to a pace that was quicker. Still deep, but faster. The headboard on his bed started to bang against the wall.

You were worried people would hear but what you didn’t know was Scott picked a perfect time to fuck you like this. The students were on a field trip and the other xmen were with them. It was just you and Scott today.

And Logan.

You sound like a broken record at this point, calling Scott’s name over and over. Moaning things that barely make any sense. The sheets below you are already damp. Scott barely made any noise as he thrusted into you. Listening to the wet slapping noises coming from you two. And for any other reaction…

You really forgot about the open door the second Scott was inside you. You begged him to go faster faster faster until you felt like the bed could soon break from how quick it was moving and how loud it was.

A few positions later and you were getting close. Scott had you on your hands and knees now though he had pushed your face into the bed. You were out of it, nearing an orgasm. He had you facing the door but face down. He could hear footsteps as you whine about how close you were. Knowing you was coming only got him closer too. As he saw a shadow appear he quickly told you to tell him, “Who’s making you feel like this? Tell me and then you can cum.”

“Y-you Scott! Fuck- You! Scott you!” A muffled voice in the sheets. You were so cockdrunk you couldn’t even hear someone approaching the door.

You finally came in one of your most intense orgasms yet, moaning Scott’s name loudly once more.

Scott soon followed but what you didn’t see what how he was staring right into Logan’s eyes as he came inside of you. Biting his lip, glaring at him as he sloppily gave you his final thrusts.

You plopped onto the bed when it was all over but your attention was soon caught again as you heard the familiar sharp snnnnkt sound and a growl right in front of you.

“You gonna tell me to stay away from your girl?” Scott said in a mocking tone. “Toooo late…”

[things-i-cannot-do-in-amitypark]

DP animatics are becoming popular again 👀 I may or may not be working on several

…while teaching myself animation software 😭 any recommendations?

[anadiasmount]

ana babes, hot tub/late night in the pool w jude fic please? i’ll pay u in infinite kisses💋 (btw no pressure ofc!)

by the edge - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: above!

wc: 2.1k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa : HIIII IMY ILYSMM, i'm sooooooo incredibly late to this, it's not even funny... but it has been in my drafts and i needed to finish this 😔 so here's summer! jude despite it being over... small suggestive content but not too in-depth. this is also insta au + fic combined!!

———— j.b ————

judebellingham added to their stories!

19 hrs ago | 9 mins ago

———— j.b ————

spottedcelebrity

liked by: popculture, thesun, dailymail, vouge, yourbestie, and 345,901 others!

spottedcelebrity: PHEW. we did not see this one coming! it’s looking like he’s finally showing off his lady, soft-launching her on his latest instagram story! stay tuned for more update and live show at 9pm!

username291: OH?? so he was actually being fr??

user09: the way no one saw this coming (im actually dying inside…)

username39: if you look closely that’s actually me!!!! 🤗

user21: girl bye-

username49: soft launching on his story is the bare minimum…

↪️ user11: isn’t that the point tho? who cares if it’s on his story? he just made a highlight dedicated to her 💋

username29: does anyone know who she is??

↪️ user19: no, he keeps her private.

↪️ username77: we don’t know that, maybe she doesn’t want to be in the public eye

↪️ user45: apparently she’s a business student at the university of madrid…

↪️ username86: people think it’s @ynusername but she’s private on everything so no one can clear that up

user74: oh! SHES GORGEOUS ??

———— j.b ————

ynusername added to their stories! 🔒

19 hrs ago | 12 hrs ago

———— j.b ————

“everyone on twitter is going crazy,” recalled jude, stepping out of the doorway. “why?” you laughed quesionably, unlocking your phone to check what he meant. you were rushed to see his fans eagerly wanting to know who you were, as jude had soft launched you on his latest post. they had not expected that one bit, now they we’re piecing to see who you were. 

it wasn’t anything new for you, as you had been doing that privately on your own instagram. the media knew he had a girlfriend, and jude respected your wishes to be private since it tended to be crazy hectic. yet the two of you liked to read comments late at night and see how theyre crazy theories came to light. 

“he was with his girlfriend at the airport, they both arrived with hats. she was very pretty and nice as well,” you read, feeling admiration at their comment. there was very few encounters you had together but all of them were positive to say the least which you were grateful for. the last thing you wanted was to be plastered in a tabloid of you being rude or mean. 

“a fan account pinned a comment earlier today, that you were a medical student and lived in norway? I never pictured it for it to get this crazy,” joked jude, hearing your laugh as you walked over to the mini bar. “do you want a drink? or would you like to share with me?” you asked, rubbing lime around the rim of the glass so you could coat with salt. 

“i’ll just take some sips out of yours,” replied jude, coming behind you to wrap his arms securely around your waist, placing kisses over your shoulder. jude watched as a you made the drink, eating fruit slices from the container you had bought in the morning. “i don’t know what it is, but the fruit here is so much better than the one in spain?” you say, jude immediately agreeing with you and going off how here he had the best mango ever. 

“careful, it's slippery,” jude gripped your hand and helped you get down the stairs carefully, making sure you wouldn't fall like he had done the first day here. the summer sea breeze was heavenly, reminiscing the last few days of summer with your boyfriend who seemed attached to you. jude’s second season at real madrid would start soon, and you were on your last year of uni. meaning this year would be hectic and stressful. 

yet right now all you could focus on was the palm trees leaves swaing, the late night sky, and the buzz feeling from your tropical drink. 

the past few days the two of you had spent exploring and having fun, taking tours around places, going ziplining, trying new foods, lots of walks along the shore, making seashell necklace and a bracelet for jude, and ending your nights like this, in the warm pool. you were grateful the place you had chosen to travel was sorta excluded from the world, being a private getaway without the media following around. 

“you okay? you seemed distracted,” jude asked swimming towards you where you lifted your hand to remove the water drops from his face. his sunkissed face from the past few days. you had to force him to wear sunscreen, listening to jude nag and complain he would be fine.  you knew this heat, humidity, and sun wasn't like the one in spain, easily burning in the first few seconds stepping outside. 

“i don’t want to leave, like ever,” you frowned and pouted your lip, jude chuckling as he picked you, wrapping your legs around his waist as his hands smoothed your bareback. “i don’t picture you as a thalassophile, with your little beach bag and sun hat,” jude joked earning a confused look from you. “a what?” you asked with narrowed eyes. 

“a thalassophile.”

“what even is that?” you giggled, your hand scratching the nape of his neck, as jude rested against the pool walls. “a thalassophile? it's someone who loves the ocean. for someone who claims they are the smarter one in the relationship, this is proving otherwise…” jude narrowed his eyes, resting his forehead against yours, seeing the warning look you threw at him. “as the smarter person in the relationship, i’m shocked you even know that word!” you gasp sarcastically. 

“hey! leave me alone…” jude tickled you making you swarm around and swim away from him, going to the edge of the pool where he followed. “what would you do? set up a small shop and sell souvenirs?” he teased, seeing how you looked away nonchalantly. “uhm yes? but mine wouldn’t be overpriced or aesthetic shops, i would bring the culture and actual diversity. give a tiny background of my items and what not…” you shrug with a shy smile, seeing jude’s eyes never leaving yours, watching how your lashes fluttered and iris dilate. 

“why are you looking at me like that? it makes me nervous, baby…” you admit with cheeks flushed, shaking your head. jude laughs and looks away, making you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. your pulse and heart racing with one simple glance from him. “does it? i didn’t know that,” he said carelessly, bringing you back into his embrace, tucking and brushing away your hair that covered your shy face. 

“stop lying…” you rolled your eyes playfully, feeling jude’s warm hands as they ran your sides and thighs. “if i'm a liar, why aren't my pants on fire?” he joked terribley, his brum accent appearing more than ever, which made the two of you burst out laughing. “you and your jokes i swear… you think you're the funniest person ever,” you tease, hearing jude gasp. “maybe because i am?” defended jude. 

you swam back to your drink, having to pull off from your clingy boyfriend, who complained the minute you were away. you finished it, after offering jude some, hearing the ice clink in the glass, only having the strawberry left, which you took a bite of. jude watched intensely, seeing your lips around the red fruit and leave a trail behind. 

he swallowed deeply as you stepped near him, feeling your arm wrap around his shoulders, coming between his legs, your tongue licking off the extra strawberry off your top lip as you offered him some. his eyes looked up into yours, tasting the bitter yet sweet taste from the fruit as he took a bite. he stood up, towering over you as you placed the stem in the cup, your back resting on the pool. 

“you're so beautiful y/n… absolutely stunning,” he whispered, seeing upon how his words had an effect on you. you traced your hands around his bare muscles, veins decorating along his arms, as his fingers tilted your chin to him, jude crashing his lips on yours. he deepens the kiss, managing to sneek his tongue into your mouth, groaning and pulling closer to him, his hand tugging you locks of hair from the back, making you let out a tiny moan. 

“tastes so much better from your lips,” he whispered, yet he didn’t stop, and you didn’t want him to. this was so different, so intimate, driven by lust. jude knew all your spots, and you learned his. he knew how to bring you to the edge, the movement, the words. so it wasn't a surprise when he pulled away, pressing your hips down onto him, kissing down your jaw to your sweetspot on your neck, sucking softly making you shiver and throw your head back. “mhm jude… what if someone sees?” you say worriedly.

“they won't… we’re alone here, it's just you and me.”

you leaned down and captured his lips again, smacking his shoulder gently. “not so fast,” you giggle, feeling as he fondled with the bowtie on your bikini. jude gave you a playful smile, knowing his intentions wouldn't be so innocent. “what i wasn’t doing anything,” jude shrugged. “right cause you never do, and especially on this trip…” you eye him down. 

“i just want to love and appreciate my girl.” 

“you have… i think this may be our favorite trip. it's something about this place i don’t know,” you blabber off, jude listening to every word, already making a future visits for the next years to come. maybe one day bring your kids to this paradise even himself grown to love. seeing you in a new environment, with your summer glow of happiness, he could get used to it. he would drop anything, even football, just to see you this radiant. it didn’t matter if it was in the sunlight or moonlight.

“you think our kids would love this place?” jude said suddenly making your crinkle your brows. “kids? you want to have kids with me?” you say unsurely, earning a confused glance from jude who tensed up. “yes… i wouldn’t picture anyone else,” jude replied, seeing how your eyes dazed from bewilderment to jovial. “you better not, you know how i am,” you give him a look. 

“trust me i know,” jude said, thinking back to the one time a girl wouldn’t get a hint he was with you, doing the upmost right in your face, flirting, touching him, following him. it didn’t help you were deep in with tequila shots, embarrassing the girl by calling her out in public. but she took the hint.

“i’m serious though y/n… i want everything and anything for you and us,” confessed jude, pecking your lips where you turned away shyly once again. “you don’t know the amount of times i think about our future. what were doing 5 years from now, our home, kids, hell pets even! i know you seriously want a cat, i’m willing to do whatever it is to see you smiling always…” he continued, your gazed bored into each other, as in a way of sealing this moment for eternity. 

“when you won the champions league that night, do you remember what i said to you?” you ask, seeing jude think about it, and by seeing his face you knew he was bound to say something silly. “i was really drunk that night, so i don’t recal much,” jude taunted, earning another gentle slap on his shoulder from you. 

“be serious!” you threatened with a huge grin.

“if you’re recalling when you promised a lifetime with me, confessed your love, and promised me that you’d stick with me forever? that you knew it was a complete different world when i was in it? that you wanted to continue making memories with me, no matter the sacrifices?” jude recalled, watching how your eyes became teary. “yes. i remember it all.”

you sniffed while also giggling, kissing jude deeply and messily once again. you notice how jude’s breathing accelerated, tugging you closer to him and keeping you steady, making you sigh in content. “i’ll never get tired of kissing you,” you admit, kissing his nose and a tiny mole he had at the end of his brow, as jude then twirled you both around, hearing the squeal of excitement escape your lips. 

“so about our babies-”

“babies?” 

“yes babies. i want more than 2 kids,” jude said with a huge smile, seeing how you gave him a look. “we’ll have one first and then see,” you state, seeing jude shake his head. “nuh uh, i’m not having that, especially when i heard you say to your best friends you would give me 6 kids when we met that night,” jude said smirking when he knew he had caught you. 

“YOU DID NOT HEAR THAT? OH MY GOD, YOU ACTUALLY HEARD THAT?”

the rest of the night, you and jude counted the stars, he even made another drink where he repeatedly insisted he wanted to repeat the kiss you once had. you even played those silly pool games where you threw a item in the pool and one of you had to find and retrieve it, a game of 2 truths and 1 lie, and recalling your earliest memories you could think of. 

towards the end of the night you sat on the edge of the pool, watching jude do some laps before he swam up to you. you clenched your legs together, when feeling his lips trail kisses up your thighs, forcing you to open them so he could continue on the inside of them. “what are you doing?” you shakily say, seeing jude look up to you as he placed a final kiss on a tiny scar you had. 

“nothing…” jude murmured, pulling you closer to him, where you now realized how this night would end. but you didn’t complain, because you wanted him that desperately too. showing him just how much you needed and wanted him. jude didn’t fight it either, having a taste by the pool side, to then carrying you into you room where he continued to show you, prove to you how special you were.  

“gonna take care of you, you deserve it angelito mio.”

———— j.b ————

judebellingham

liked by: ynusername, brahim, yourbestie, camavinga, vinijr, sophiaamelia, fedevalverde, vogue, spottedcelebrity, and 4,888,769 others!

judeballingham: living life it's fullest along with you mi angelito divino 🤍

comments:

ynusername: EEKKK!! ILYSM 😣😣😣😣

ynusername: still thinking how sunburnt you got...

vinijr: no invite?

↪️ judebellingham: do you have a gf?

jobebellingham: literally why

↪️ judebellingham: why not?

spottedcelebrity: HARD LAUNCH? IS EVERYONE BREATHING OKAY?

↪️ ynusername: no.

trentalexanderarnold: very demure, very cutesy!

username19: hard launch? oh wow!

user38: this is actually so crazy im??????

vogue: HEY JUDE!

———— j.b ————

ynusername 🔒-> 🔓

liked by: judebellingham, yourbestie, jobebellingham, jennaortega, monetmcmicheal, spottedcelebrity, rubendias, trentalexanderarnold, adidas, glossier, and 34,897 others!

ynusername: i LOVE my man!! ily ily ily!! happy gal in happy place with my man!! EEEKKKKK!!!!!!!!!! 💞💕♥️💘💖💓💗💝

comments:

judebellingham: i can't tell if this is sarcasm or your being fr...

↪️ jobebellingham: she hates you. she CAN'T stand you! blink twice if you need help y/n

ynusername: blinks three times **

judebellingham: strawberry kissed.

judebellingham: you're so sexy, i'm so in love with you.

judebellingham: another pool night?

↪️ ynusername: yess!! 🤭🤭

rubendias: lol.

↪️ user55: tea...

↪️ username76: OH? @spottedcelebrity take a look at this?

↪️ spottedcelebrity: yikes... ruben in the comments of THE y/n??

yourbestie: imy!! eek you're glowing!! 🥹🥹

username10: omg!! she has been soft-launching him for a YEAR?

user30: so we were right...

username85: ur a smart and gorgeous queen!

user99: stop i love them so much.

[navybrat817]

neighbor bucky coming over to ask for sugar, but not that kind of sugar ;)

Oh, he wants some sugar, lovely.

Bucky Barnes can have whatever he wants.

You don’t tell him that when you open the door since you want to retain some of your dignity. Not all, but some. Though you were certain like Bucky existed just to make dignity disappear. And panties, apparently, since he liked to destroy them. You should bill him for those.

“Hey, Bucky,” you say, bringing a hand up to run your fingers through his hair just because you can. Watching his eyes go hazy with hunger was a sight you’d never get over. “Starting to think you have a bit of a crush on me since you can’t seem to stay away.”

You shiver when he smirks. It’s somehow cocky and soft and isn’t that how Bucky is? You know what it feels like to have him inside you and wreck you beyond belief. You know how your heart melts when he holds you like you’re his everything. The perfect combination.

“Of course, I do. Thought that was obvious,” he says so sincerely that your heart seizes in your chest. How was it that you both bared yourselves to each other physically and he could still make you feel bashful? “Would it be totally cliche if I stopped by to get some sugar?”

You giggle and act as if you’re going to close the door. You only giggle more when he holds up a hand to keep it open. “I think you have plenty of sugar at home.”

“But I don’t have your sugar,” he winks before he grips the back of your head.

You let him pull you in for a kiss, his mouth heatedly slanting over yours. Your body molds against his when he wraps his arm around your waist. Though your heart is racing and your pussy throbs with the need for him to take you, you pull away and you’re not entirely sure why.

His hands quickly frame your face when he sees your expression. “Hey,” he whispers, like you’re his only concern. “Talk to me.”

Your throat tightens before you blurt out, “What happens if I run out of sugar?”

It’s a dumb thing to ask, but he’s a smart man who can read between the lines. There’s more than something physical between you two and he won’t care if you don’t want to have sex. So why the sudden worry?

The worry fades away when his forehead touches yours. “Then we just learn to appreciate salt.”

Perfect guy. Perfect neighbor. Soon-to-be perfect boyfriend.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[lovebugism]

I have an idea for and eddie x reader fic where f!reader really wants to get into dnd but had no idea where to start, and is afraid of getting further teased by family and bullies at school. Tsym, your writing is the best! 🖤🖤

i can't stop writing part twos to stuff apparently, so please enjoy the unofficial second part of this fic! — the new girl learns about the hellfire rumors (shy!r, hurt/comfort, cw for brief mentions of bullying | 1.5k)

A familiar face waits for you outside Mr. Kaminsky’s chemistry lab. Eddie Munson, anticipating your arrival around the corner, grins with all his teeth when his unexpected presence takes you by surprise. 

You stumble back on unsure feet — a little like you had when you first met (though you don’t fall on your ass this time, thankfully) — then smile before you mean to.

“I’ve been going here for two weeks, you know?” you tell the boy towering over you, peering at him beneath your lashes. “I think I know my way around by now.”

Eddie bounces a shoulder in a lazy shrug. “Well, better to be safe, don’t ya think?” 

He flashes you a crooked smirk and tosses a leather-clad arm over your shoulder. You notice quickly that he’s got nothing in his ringed hands, not even a backpack, while you carry a mountain of textbooks in your aching arms. 

With Eddie’s help, you weave through the bustling hall of Hawkins High, which would otherwise trample you completely. The crowd seems to part for him instinctively — whether it’s intentional or not, you can’t tell. You don’t think Eddie notices it, either. He guides you to the west end of the school like doing so is muscle memory. You’re starting to think he knows your schedule better than his own.

“A lot of people would pay good money to have me as their personal escort, you know?” he jokes and tilts his wild head to his shoulder. A few untamed curls tickle the apples of your cheek in the process. He scrunches his nose down at you. “So you should be thanking me, really.”

Your face warms for a reason you can’t name. From the close proximity, maybe, or from the weight of your gratitude. Equal parts of both, perhaps. “Thank you,” you murmur shyly.

Eddie falters, sneakers scuffing against the tile. He’s still getting used to how kind you are; and how softly you look at him. “I was— I was being sarcastic. Don’t actually thank me,” he stammers, cheeks flaring pink. “Jeez. You’re too sweet for your own good, you know that?”

You giggle when he sweeps you around the corner. The sound is pretty enough to make him smile, though it ebbs much quicker than he’d like. It takes Eddie a moment too long to realize why, ‘cause he’s too busy ogling at how pretty you are. Which makes the sight before him borderline gagworthy.

“Well,” an infuriatingly familiar voice huffs. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

Jason Carver, clad in his bright green letterman, stands at the center of a bunch of guys, also wearing bright green lettermans. 

You recognize a couple of their faces. Andy is the one with the sandy curls who spends all of biology cracking sex jokes. Patrick is the tall one with the Bobby Brown haircut who helped you with your locker once when the combination wouldn’t budge. 

The rest are nameless and unfamiliar. Save for the blonde boy in the middle of them, with the hundred-dollar haircut and the bright white smile. Everything you’ve learned about him has been entirely against your will.

Eddie blinks slowly at the crowd of muscled teens, not nearly as startled by the sight of them as you are. His dark eyes flit to the side, where they crowd at the entrance of the Hellfire room, and then back to Jason. “Well, are you gonna let us through, or do we need a password?” he deadpans.

Jason’s thin lips quirk at the edges. “Where are you guys off to?” 

“You’re a smart guy, Carver. I’m sure you can figure it out.”

The boy’s stone blue eyes dart between the two of you for a moment, before settling finally on you. “He’s not trying to recruit you into his cult, is he?” Jason squints.

Eddie tenses beside you. His warm arm slips from your shoulders and leaves you fighting back a shiver. An agonizing second passes before you get the courage to speak. “C-Cult?” you echo, noticeably unsure.

“Yeah,” Jason nods with wide eyes and a voice that borders on sympathetic. “They’re Satanists— him and all his Hellfire buddies. The five of ‘em? They’re bad news, sweetheart.”

Eddie’s chest tightens. Not because of Jason’s stupid melodramatics (he’s used to those now) but because he’s calling you sweetheart. And you’re not his fucking sweetheart. Eddie knows you’re not his either, exactly, but the principle still stands anyway. 

“Oh! You can count!” Eddie muses with an emotionless laugh. “I bet you know your ABC’s too!”

Jason’s face cracks only slightly. His sharp jaw clenches enough to make his temples shift. His suffocating gaze never wavers from yours. 

“I’m just trying to look out for you. That’s all,” he murmurs like he’s telling a secret, but obviously wanting Eddie to hear all of it. “Don’t get wrapped up in Munson’s shit, alright? He’s dangerous. He’ll swallow someone as sweet as you whole before you can blink.”

When Jason passes you, he caresses your elbow with a touch you assume is meant to be comforting. You tense like he’s burned you instead. He walks on by and takes his friends and too-strong cologne with him.

Eddie grits his teeth and stares daggers down the emptying hallway. He doesn’t want to cause a scene like he typically would — for your sake — but staying silent leaves him with no real place to put his anger. His rage simmers like a fire behind his ribcage, and he keeps it all to himself. Just like Jason wanted.

“Fucking douchebag,” Eddie grumbles as he storms into the Hellfire room. You follow cautiously behind him, watching silently while he paces around the empty classroom. The boy talks wildly with his hands. “I can’t stand him— He’s like a fucking goblin with an intelligence score of zero—”

“What… What was he talking about?” you wonder in a mousy voice, clammy hands wringing. “Back there? About the… the cult?”

“Nothing,” Eddie groans. He huffs and tilts his head back, revealing the tendons of his milky white neck. “He just thinks a couple of nerds playing D&D are worshipping satan, which is just… I mean, he throws balls into hoops in his spare time, but you don’t see me calling him a goddamn neanderthal, do you?”

He turns to face you, wide-eyed, like he’s expecting an answer. Then he sighs, bringing his chin to his chest and hiding behind his hair. “Nevermind. I actually do call him that, so… I guess it’s fair…”

“Does he always bother you like that?” you question, chest sparking with an emotion stronger than you used to. Strangely protective and very foreignly angry.

“Me? God, no— He’s not that big of an idiot,” Eddie scoffs, then turns suddenly serious. His dark eyes narrow across the room at you. “Has he been bothering you?”

You shift your weight under his smothering gaze. “No… Not like that, anyway. I’m usually with you, so… He mostly leaves me alone.”

Eddie sighs. His chest deflates with the heavy breath. He grows quickly shy as he closes the distance between you, arms crossed over his chest like a shield. He averts his gaze and swallows hard. “I’m— I’m sorry, by the way.”

Your brows pinch. ��For what?”

He shrugs sheepishly, scratching at the back of his neck. “I don’t know. I just… I feel like I should’ve done more—”

“You did enough.”

“—I should’ve stuck up for you.”

“It’s not your job to stop assholes from being assholes, Ed.”

He doesn’t want to smile, but you make it distressingly hard not to. Especially when you’re grinning up at him like you are now. Especially when such vulgar words are spilling from such a pristine mouth.

“Well, I did kinda promise to keep you safe.”

“You have been, Eds,” you tell him with a pretty laugh, smiling so hard you’re squinting. “There’s no one else I’d rather be around, so… That’s gotta count for something, right?”

“That’s just because you’re crazier than I am, sweetheart.”

Your face flares, warmed by the term of endearment — far more when it’s spilling from his mouth than Jason’s. “Well, Hellfire’s for crazy people, I’ve heard. So I guess I’ll fit right in.”

Eddie’s button eyes go wide. His chin falls to his chest as he flashes you a solemn look. “You… You still wanna join?” he wonders, half shocked.

You take his surprise for distaste and cower all over again. “I mean… If you— If you’ll have me, I guess—”

“Of course!” the boy assures, far quicker and far louder than he intended. His voice rings through the empty classroom and he clears his throat, trying to play it cool. “I just thought that after Jason, you’d—”

“Screw Jason,” you blurt, foreignly harsh in a way that makes his heart skip. “I don’t care what he thinks. I like spending time with you.”

A smirk flickers at the very corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Really?”

“Really,” you echo. When you feel yourself start to drown in his chocolate eyes, you turn to the wooden figurines sitting on top of the table beside you. “You’ll have to teach me how to play, though. I have exactly zero clue where to start.”

“That’s okay,” Eddie shrugs, taking a daring step closer. He smirks and fights the urge to hold you — to caress your arm like Jason had, and to erase any remnants of his unwanted touch. His ringed hands tremble with yearning. He balls them into fists at his side. 

He smiles through the aching. “Just means we get to spend more time together, right?”

[imfinereallyy]

“Steve, it’s an emergency. I need to kiss you. Actually, I need you to kiss me. But I can’t just do it without asking because what if you don’t want me to, and I practically attack you? So yes or no? I swear it’s for a good cause.” Eddie comes running up to Steve in the bar, panting so hard Steve can see the chest movements.

They have taken Robin to a bar out in Indy to get her laid finally. Or at least a tongue in her mouth. The girl is pent up. And it’s Steve’s job as best friend to make that happen (Robin has told him to stop saying that, ‘it is gross’). Eddie is the only other queer person they know and, luckily, has made quite a few trips to Indy to know which bars were the good ones. He tells Steve that, like Robin, he is desperate to get laid, so this is the perfect opportunity.

Steve does his best to try and ignore the burning jealousy he feels at that. Eddie doesn’t know about his feelings (hell about his sexuality), and Steve is pretty sure Eddie doesn’t see him that way.

“Huh?” Asks confused, his brain struggling to process.

“Okay, I see you’re stuck on how to answer, but Steve—“ Eddie grips Steve’s shoulder, and Steve tries not to swoon. “—my ex, the extra shitty one, is here, and if he sees me alone I’ll either a) go home with him tonight and—“

Steve cuts Eddie off with a searing kiss. The thought of Eddie going home with someone else was enough for Steve’s brain to catch up to speed. Steve presses Eddie against the bar. The loud bass of the music suddenly becomes a light thrum in the background. All that he feels is the delightful pressure of their lips together. Eddie’s hands slide up into Steve’s hair as he gets pressed harder into the bar. Steve’s hands' grip Eddie’s waist and give them a tight squeeze. The idea of bruises being left behind, a mark of what they are doing here, makes Steve deepen the kiss. His tongue used to massage Eddie’s, tasting the menthol and rum on his breath. Eddie moans loud and heavy, vibrating Steve’s entire body.

“Eddie?” A voice interrupts them. Steve feels his anger spark back slightly but wills it down because the interruption is probably needed. They are very close to getting kicked out for public indecency.

“Oh hey, Ryan.” Eddie looks the blonde man up and down. He’s cute, Steve notes, but he lacked personality in his appearance. He isn’t what Steve expects from an ex of Eddie’s. He isn’t naive enough to think Eddie dates exclusively metal heads, but he expects someone to match Eddie’s energy. This guy—Ryan apparently—looks like every other guy you’d find on a Sunday in Supermart. Boring and lacking imagination.

“Who’s this?” Ryan looks at Steve pissed.

“Steve?” Eddie wraps an arm around his waist, bringing Steve close up against him. “This is my boyfriend.”

“This dude’s your boyfriend?” Ryan snorts. “C'mon baby, I know you can do better.”

Steve feels his anger finally pop. “He is not your baby. Yea, he can do better than both of us combine, but I’m lucky enough to get him. Now, you interrupted our time together, and we both know you saw what we’re up to, so don’t act like it wasn’t on purpose.”

Ryan startles backwards, “I—“

“Sorry, maybe I wasn’t clear. I meant leave the fuck right now.” Steve grits out, some of his Upside Down protection mode popping out. Ryan scatters quickly.

“Jesus, Steve, that was amazing. I’m sorry I had to make you uncomfortable with that.” Eddie’s eyes find his and cuts Steve off before he can protest and explain no, he really did like that “—and you never even let me explain reason b, by the way! Reason b is b) he would probably humiliate me in the middle of the club.”

Steve nods at Eddie but has one track mind at this point. He grabs Eddie by the face this time before crashing their lips together once again. This time Steve moans into Eddie’s mouth as they both get lost in the kiss.

Steve pulls back ever so slightly and talks directly into Eddie’s mouth, “Sorry. I think he’s still staring. Needed to do more.”

Eddie, with swollen lips and a kissed-out face, looks around the bar to find nothing. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

Steve smirks and pulls Eddie by his belt loops so they are flushed together. Steve leans into Eddie’s ear and nibbles at his lobe. “Hmmm, you’re right. I think he’s actually in the bathroom. Maybe we should kiss in front of him there.” Steve whispers hotly.

Eddie’s brain, which has short-circuited much like Steve only minutes ago, finally catches up. Eddie groans, his face collapsing into Steve’s neck. He licks a stripe up Steve’s neck all the way to his mouth. “Fuck. Yea, baby, I think I saw him too. Think kissing, though, won’t be enough. We might need to up our game.”

Steve nips at Eddie’s lips, “I was hoping you would say that. Guess I just know how much you love your games, Eds.”

They meet each other for one last searing kiss before rushing to the bathrooms to share a very tight, very heated stall.

[freaksun]

Hi if you are taking requests I’m in a super soft mood.

Would you do something with Eddie not being used to affection? Super touch starved. And when he and reader start dating he is tense when you first show that your love language is physical touch? And slowly. Not to scare him you try to show and convince him he deserves nothing but kindness and loving touches?

hi honey!! always taking requests, i just take forever to answer them haha :)

your boyfriend, eddie munson, had a hard childhood - that was clear.

for one, he grew up with his uncle wayne instead of two parents. you’ve met mr munson, and he’s a truly sweet man, but you’re pretty sure he didn’t plan on raising a child.

he told you his mom died and his dad is gone but not much else and you don’t want to pry. you figure he’ll tell you on his own time and that’s good enough for you. mostly, you just want him to know he’s safe with you.

the only part that bothers you is that his past trauma has convinced him he isn’t worthy of soft touches and patience and your everlasting devotion. you have to fix this, you decide.

you noticed pretty early into the relationship that he’s timid around physical intimacy - not necessarily sex, more the sweet and loving caresses you offer him daily - since every time you mold yourself to his back in bed he suddenly has to ‘get to work’.

at first it really hurt your feelings. he could have sex with you (with minimal nervousness) but he couldn’t cuddle you??

but then the heartbreaking realization set in that he just cant let you show that you love him. cant let you be tender with the parts of him you know have been crushed by people meant to protect him.

so, you start small.

eddie gets all worked up sometimes talking about things he loves, so you wait for him to get all excited and distracted and then you start gently twirling his hair between your fingers while he goes on and on.

eventually it evolves to you running your hands through his hair, lightly massaging his head while he unknowingly unravels in front of you. you rake your nails over his scalp, scratching his stress away.

you can tell how much he appreciates such a small gesture by the way he sinks into your touch, a warm smile on his sleepy face.

he starts to expect it, much to your delight. whenever he realizes he’s getting super into a discussion he cozies up to you, laying his head in your lap usually by slumping onto you and forcing you to lay down so you can be his teddy bear.

you’re extremely proud of this progress, even moreso when he sleepily turns one evening, smushing his face against your thigh and sighing contently. you don’t stop petting his hair until you feel his breathing slow against the inside of your leg.

you figure it was a combination of you talking instead of him, and the long awful day he apparently had at work. either way, you thank the stars and make sure not to wake him. it grows your ego substantially knowing your voice guided him to a peaceful sleep.

the next morning you wake up with him still wrapped around your waist, cheek smushed into your tummy. you’re both still in your clothes, eddie in his dirty work overalls cause he couldn’t wait to cuddle you, and neither of you expected him to fall asleep. you pet his head softly - its practically instinctive whenever you see him, especially snoring softly like this

he stirs when you rake your nails across his back gently, drawing swirls and patterns on him while he’s still too sleepy to protest. his eyes meet yours, his hair adorably disheveled. he looks incredibly disoriented and confused and all you can do is smile at your puppy of a boyfriend.

“..did we fall asleep like this?” his voice comes out all gravelly how you love, its always like that in the morning, you’ve come to find out.

“yes” you giggile, fixing a stray curl. “you fell asleep like this, honey.”

he blushes and gets nervous as usual, you’re familiar with his patterns, but he doesn’t move - not yet.

you take advantage of that fact, lifting his chin so he’s forced to look at you again. this time when you look into his wide eyes, you sense guilt.

“eddie, i liked it.” you smile, moving to rub his cheek, your thumb swiping gently just below his eye. “is there some reason you think i wouldn’t? o-or did you not like it?” he panics when your smile falters, lips twitching in hesitation.

“No!” he yelps a little too loud, awkward in that sitcom way he’s always been. charming, you think.

“O-of course i liked it, baby..” his eyes flick between obeying and keeping eye contact and staring down to avoid you.

“you’re so warm.. ‘n soft..” his eyes meet yours again and theres a sincerety and vulnerability you’ve never seen. close, maybe, but this is new.

“yeah?” you coo, coaxing him further into this soft space you’ve unlocked for him.

he nods, a coy smile forming. “I like touching you, y/n. i-i always want to i-im just..” you rub his cheek. “cautious. i guess. scared.” he looks up at you again, wide eyes beaming in a way that makes you think theyre just holes peering into the sparkling of his heart. its clear he’s opening himself to you in a way no one’s seen before. maybe other than his mom. its an honour you refuse to waste.

“what are you scared of ed?” not once do you stop softly petting him , his cheeks, his hair, his neck, a thumb across his lip.

“I just.. i dunno. you’re so soft, so sweet and kind and i-“ he falters, and you immediately hug him to you, rubbing his back. “its ok, honey. take your time, im here.” he sighs, his hands grasping you for comfort.

“i dont wanna break you. or lose you..” he admits, maybe for the first time to himself at all. your heart breaks. obviously you could assume with what you know about his past but the details and results never stop hurting. you wish you could’ve saved him, could’ve saved his mother and given him a better father. or just taken him far, far away.

now, all you can do is hold him. one hand in his hair, one rubbing his back and you kiss the top of his head.

“im not going anywhere.” you promise, your lips still pressed in his hair.

“gonna stay and cuddle you forever, teddy” your hand sneaks under his shirt and rubs his back, up and down the soft skin. its vulnerable in a literal and figurative way you cant fully process in the moment but later you’ll cry over how poetic and sentimental it is.

you feel him sink into you, letting his weight crush you a little. his voice rumbles where hes hiding his face, a small “promise?” muffled by your chest.

you frown, wishing he never had to feel this way.

“I promise, eddie. m’yours” you can feel him smile, giddy and childish in this state.

“and you’re mine” you giggle as he rubs his face into you like a cat displaying affection.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part One / Part Two / Part Three (You Are Here)

Complete Thing on A03

Sure enough, Jason Carver had brought a priest. 

The idiot himself stood next to the guy, smugly grinning like a hunter posing with his prized buck, a small crowd already gathering. 

Opposing them was Michael Wheeler, hands planted on Hellfire’s table and back up like a pissed off cat’s, mouth moving faster than Eddie thought possible.

He couldn’t hear what Wheeler was saying. 

Frankly did not want to know what Wheeler was saying, and could only do his damndest to intervene before Mike tanked the situation entirely. 

Gareth and Jeff flanked him, both tense as hell. Neither had backed down though, standing tall and holding ground even as Jason pulled more and more people into his little spectacle. 

Lucas and Grant on the other hand, were standing off to the side.

They weren’t cowering exactly, but both were definitely wincing as Gareth opened his mouth to add his own two cents. 

Given the scowl on the priest, it was probably something nasty, 

‘Fuck.’ Eddie thought, teeth clenched, as Jason drew out his arms, making an even bigger production for his little audience. ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck!’ 

The worst thing of all? 

Dustin managed to reach the group before anyone else did. 

Wheeler and Emerson might have low charisma, but Dustin had a particular combination of snark and a know-it-all attitude that really pissed off authority figures. 

(And Eddie would know, given he was the reigning champion of pissing off authority figures.) 

He did, however, slide in right in time to hear the priest respond. 

“I don’t care for your tone, young man. Jason here has some concerns over your club and I have to agree, what I see is quite,” The guy paused, jowls jiggling as he looked over their table, clearly eyeing Hellfire’s logo. “alarming.” 

 At least wasn’t an actual sermon.

Not yet, anyway. 

Eddie came up right inbetween Mike and Dustin, intending to make himself out to be the new target for all to aim at.  

There was an art to making yourself the sole owner of everything evil in this world, and Eddie had learned it all, trial by fire style.  

“Carver is full of--” Mike snarled, and thankfully was cut off—not by Eddie, or the hand he’d just clamped onto Mike’s shoulder—but by Harrington. 

Who sauntered right up as if he was joining everyone for dinner, and not walking into a circus act.

“Hello Father.” Harrington said, voice warm and welcoming.  “Would you like some of our cookies? We have a sample platter.” 

“Oh--Steve!” The priest blinked, actually blinked, that he was startled to see Hawkins’ golden boy appear next to him. “I’m sorry but no. I’m ah, here for other reasons.”

He paused so long it was nearly comedic before tentatively asking; “ Are you with this table?”

Like the guy couldn’t see the same Hellfire logo plastered across Steve’s ridiculous jock chest. 

Eddie opened his mouth to give a resounding no, Hellfire shirt or not--when Mike of all people put an elbow into his side. 

As if Eddie was the one who needed to be silenced.  

“I am.” Steve put an arm down on Dustin’s shoulder, squeezing it in a way that looked like fond encouragement (but what Eddie was pretty sure was actually a warning in the same way the hand on Mike’s shoulder was.) “I came to help out my friends and fundraise.”

Then he beamed, face lighting up with the full Harrington charm, giga watt smile and all. 

Now the priest just looked awkward. 

“You’ve apparently been fundraising for what I have been told is a…Satanist Club?” 

It was hilariously delicate, how the priest said it. Like now that a respectable member of Hawkins was here, he had to be more careful about what words he used. 

Eddie would have interrupted then.  Retake the reins and do what he did best in terms of making everyone forget about everything but him--except Carver was rounding on Harrington, and well.

He was always a fan of the rich eating each other. 

“You cannot seriously be with these--these,” Jason’s eyes darted to between him and the priest, before physically reigning himself in. “hooligans, Harrington!” 

“I’m sorry.” Harrington said, and whatever Jason had been expecting to get hit with, it wasn’t “good ol’ boy” southern charm. 

He blinked, taking on the air of a kicked puppy who couldn’t understand why someone would be so mean as he glanced around the crowd.  “I think I'm a little lost here.” 

Jason clearly wasn’t prepared for that either. 

“What?” 

“This table is for a storytelling and math game.” Steve spoke slowly, in the same way one explained things to a toddler. “You have to roll dice and add the numbers up to do anything."

“It’s not a game, Steve.” Jason spat back. “It’s an evil trick made to tempt the susceptible minds of children to the dark arts!” 

Personally, Eddie was amazed Carver even knew the word susceptible let alone be able to properly use it in a sentence. 

(He tried to open his mouth to say so, and once again got elbowed, this time by Gareth. 

The look he gave his younger friend could have melted steel beams.)

“That’s what this is about?” Harrington slid his arm off Dustin's shoulders, leaning back to look at the priest and the people around them in a show of blatant disbelief. “You think the nerd club is related to satanism?” 

It was Eddie's own tactic--arguing that D&D was “using academic skills” and “making math fun!" not that Hellfire had ever been successful using it.

Of course, they weren’t Hawkins golden boy either. 

Jason sputtered. 

“It has monsters and--demons in it! It makes children do spells and sign over their souls!” He flung a hand out, for the first time acknowledging Eddie by pointing at his shirt. “Just look at that! It’s awful!”  

"Hey." Eddie said, hand going over his very well drawn dragon.

“I once had to stop an argument about how much weight a wooden bridge could hold.” Steve countered, hands moving to his hips. “I only got them to stop by agreeing to take the kids to a library so they could look it up.” 

He squinted, in Carver's direction, deadpanning; "I take it you think the library is evil now too?"

“The name of the club is called Hellfire!” Jason shrieked, sounding more like an angry teakettle than anything dangerous. 

“Look I get that it sounds scary,” Steve said, the tiniest hint of pity entering his voice, “but they’re trying to make math problems and English essays sound cool. It’s the same reason Father John here calls our annual haunted house Hell House, isn’t it? So people go in it to begin with?” 

Harrington turned to look expectantly at the priest, and Eddie had to admit it was an excellent way to both pander to the guy and sound like Jason was making a big deal out of nothing. 

Perhaps, he’d stay quiet after all. 

(Even if it went against Eddie’s entire being to do so.)

“Well, yes, but--” Father John had clearly picked up on the fact he was losing this particular argument, but plowed forward regardless. “Those activities are supervised by the church…” 

“This is evil Harrington, and you should know better to promote it.” Carver tacked on, like this was a two bit comedy sketch. 

“When I played it we just saved some poor town from a bad guy who set it on fire.” Steve rolled his eyes. 

Then he leaned in, converting his voice into a stage whisper that somehow projected it, giving the impression that everyone around them was listening in on a secret. 

“The doctor said it was a really good way for Dustin and Erica to process the mall fire. He’s a specialist--my mother managed to convince him to fly down to help all the kids who got hurt.” 

Eddie was 100% sure that was total bullshit, but the mere mention of Harrington's mother had seemed to have an effect on the people around them.

 Like Steve had invoked the name of an old but beloved God, not always benevolent but definitely memorable. 

“She’s always been a champion of helping when you can.” Steve spoke to the priest, like they were having a conversation between just the two of them. “Encouraging people to volunteer and helping fundraise.”

“She has been." Father John said, in the kind of instant way one does when they don’t want to offend a very large donor.  "Tell your mom I look forward to her coming back from her--ah, trip.”

 With an awkward glance to the table, he added; “...I suppose I don’t see how math comes into play?” 

“Oh it’s right from the start. Hey Jeff, come here, show Father John how you have to do a bunch of calculations and stuff to make a character.” 

“Ah--right.” Jeff sprung to life, moving around the table to Steve.

“We uh, we start with this character sheet…” 

“Eddie Munson runs the club.” Jason interrupted, before Steve could get Jeff to going.

“He’s right there! Does he look like this whole thing is just an innocent board game?” 

This was a last ditch effort, and it was clear by the chattering that had started circling amongst their audience that everyone knew it. 

Unfortunately, it was a good one.

This was the downside to making yourself a target. Once a bad guy, always a bad guy--particularly in the eyes of the PTA. 

“Munson?” Harrington dismissed with a scoff. “He’s harmless.” 

Which was news to most of their audience given the amount of attention Eddie suddenly had on him, but it was fine. 

He was used to the disapproving stares and glares, and gave his best award winning smile in response. 

Jason looked at Harrington like he’d lost his mind. 

“He has skulls on his fingers for fucks sake!” 

“Jason.” Steve admonished, in a perfect mimic of an upset southern mother. “Language.” 

Carver's jaw dropped, face purpling in rage.

Steve ignored him, turning back to the Priest. “I don’t know what's gotten into him but I’m sorry Jason’s wasted your time, Father.” 

“Munson is a drug dealer!” And ah, here came the Hail Mary move, Carver's one and only trump card.

“We all know he’s a drug dealer, and he’s using this--this game, to give drugs to kids!”

“Really?” Steve turned. “Lucas, what happens if I ever catch you smoking weed?” 

Lucas answered instantly. “You’re going to make us run laps at five in the morning.” 

“For a month.” Dustin added, with an exaggerated shudder. 

It would have been too much--except his disgusted face sold it. 

“Eddie’s just loud and wants to be a rockstar.” Harrington said, like this he was harmless.

No one on Steve's side of things had ever thought of Eddie as harmless.

 “I’ve babysat these kids for years and Eddie was a huge help in making sure no one in high school messed with them.” He continued, like they were some sort of team or friends even.

(Like Eddie hadn't been at Harrington's throat all day, pissy and defensive.)

“We have a real bullying problem right now. Funny enough,” Steve’s nailed Jason with a look, “I keep hearing that it’s coming from the basketball team.” 

“What are you implying?” Jason asked darkly. 

“Just that it’s funny how nobody got caught fighting when I was team captain.” Steve returned. 

God the man was such a bitch. Eddie kind of wanted to kiss him a little. 

Okay, more than a little.

“I get you have some kind of beef with Munson, but let’s not drag a bunch of people into it. Especially not Father John.” Harrington was playing up to the mothers around him now, dismissing Carver entirely as he did so. “He’s a busy guy.”

“Very.” Said Father nodded solemnly. “I do not appreciate being pulled into a high school squabble.” 

Jason’s mouth swam through shapes, words stuttering out of it. “This isn’t, thats not--”

“We can talk about this after church on Sunday.” Father John interrupted, the finishing blow to Carver's little show.

“You came all this way, at least have a cookie on us.” Steve said with an appeasing tone, reaching an arm back behind him.

Quick on the uptake, a cookie appeared in his hands. 

He offered it out to the priest, who took it happily.

"Okay, who wants cake!?” He called, in a clear and obvious dismissal of Jason. 

Who stood there, like he couldn’t believe what just happened. 

His eyes slid to Eddie's, fists clenched tightly at his side, hatred pouring off him so strongly one could almost taste it.

Eddie winked at him.

(Unknown to him at the time, Jason had also looked at Steve--and Steve would wink too.)

xXx

Steve Harrington, who Eddie had been an absolute ass all day too, had looked Jason Carver, a Priest and half of Hawkins in the eye and announced that he, Eddie Munson, was a good person at heart.

It made Eddie want to vomit a little when he thought about it too hard.

“I know this is horrible timing,” Robin said, sidling up as the crowd finally dispersed, “but I really, really need to talk to you.” 

Eddie turned, head full of far too many thoughts and ready to tell her such, when he caught sight of Buckley's face. 

Was reminded, by the sheer nervous, ‘horse about to bolt’ vibe, that he owed it to Robin as a fellow queer not to be a dick about her accidental outing.

Even if all he wanted was to preen in the wake of Carver’s defeat. 

‘See Mothers of Hawkins? Your own golden boy just gave me his stamp of approval!’ 

A mental image that immediately changed to Steve Harrington’s name stamped on his ass and dammit he had to get ahold of his thoughts before he fell down rabbit holes like this--!

“Back there, at the stairs,” Robin started, voice dropping low, and Eddie didn’t miss the way her eyes kept seeking out Steve, like he was some kind of safety net--which he probably was. “What um--what did you hear?” 

It took a lot of guts to come talk to him, knowing what he'd overheard--particularly given they'd just fended off the church.

He'd never exactly underestimated Robin Buckley, but then, he'd never expected this level of badassery from her either.

“Eddie?” Robin prodded again, chewing hard on her bottom lip.

“Sorry, distracted.” Eddie waved a hand behind himself. “Not everyday the King decides to defend your honor to a priest.” 

With a little bow, he offered his elbow out to her, a clear signal to take it and let him escort them away from unwanted ears.

In a show of bravery, Robin took his elbow and let him lead, even as she frowned up at him, looking like she was about to say something.

Likely it was in defense of Harrington, but Eddie had been interrupted enough for one day. 

“You and His Highness over there really should be more aware of your surroundings." He started, voice low. "Lucky for you, you’re among friends. You and Dorothy both.” 

He reached a foot out, tapping Robin’s own. 

Right on top of a doodled pair of tits. 

Robin let go of his elbow and glanced down, before flinging her head right back up, panicked.

"I--"

“If you’d like I can pretend I never heard a thing.” Eddie interrupted, dropping his voice into the gentler tone he reserved for delicate conversations.

People were always surprised by the lengths he went to make sure someone was comfortable--but then, people also forgot how often Eddie heard things he shouldn’t. 

People didn't take drugs just for fun, after all.

“Or I can offer a friend of a friend discount on my wares,” He put a finger to his lips, miming smoking with one hand while he opened his vest with the other to flash the little pink triangle pin that sat inside, announcing his own sexualities status.

“and we can, say, discuss the differences between radical and social feminism while admiring the fine forms of Susan Sarandon and Peter Hinwood?”

The smile he gets is two parts relief, one part genuine delight and Eddie grinned right back at her, flicking his vest closed.

“I did not take you for a Peter Hinwood type.” Robin said it hesitantly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Thought you’d find Tim Curry’s…acting skills, more to your taste.”

“In the case of Rocky Horror? I am Tim Curry.” He announced, loud and proud (well for this kind of conversation at least.) 

He was rewarded by the tension finally melting out of Robin’s shoulders. 

(This, Eddie reflected, is what he should have been doing this entire time, instead of getting tied up in knots over Harrington and turning into some kind of non-conformist tyrant.) 

“Do you actually know the differences between social and radical feminism?” Robin challenged, braver now, and Eddie knew then and there he’d been successful in assuring her her secret was safe.

That she was safe, with him.

“Guess you’ll have to find out.” Eddie said, giving a playful nudge to her shoulder. 

Baths in the laugh he gets for it, and for the first time today feels like he’s finally on firmer ground.

They chatted for a moment longer, making a loop on the very outskirts of the gym, voices hushed when it came to things that small town ears shouldn’t overhear--but of course, Robin couldn’t just leave things at that.

“Hey Eddie?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can you do me one more favor?”

“Anything for you, my favorite feminist.” 

For the first time since this conversation started, Robin managed to sound firm. 

“Stop referring to Steve as a King.” 

She rushed ahead, anticipating being cut off, and thus Eddie is hit with a wave of words, none of which he’d ever thought he’d hear in relation to thee Steven Harrington. 

“He’s working really hard to get away from it, the whole King thing and how he used to be. I don’t know what all he did to like--you guys,” She flapped her hand in the general direction of Hellfire, “and I know he wasn’t an innocent bystander, but I kinda realized over the summer that I blamed him for a lot of things that were in my own head, and that he wasn’t--he was never as bad as I thought he was and he's still trying to make it up to me anyway.”

Robin trailed off, seeming to try and piece out what she wanted to say next without giving away the whole farm. “It’s not some act, Eddie. Steve’s really trying to change.” 

Which yeah.

Eddie could see that, now. 

Maybe not before but…

“Okay.” He said, after a long, long moment. “No more King Steve. Got it.”

The smile he got for that also felt like a victory, even if it was wrenched out of him.

xXx

Two hours and a dispersed crowd later, Eddie found himself once again stuck in his own head. 

The facts were thus:

Steve Harrington was a good dude. 

He used his good dude-ness to save Hellfire from a literal priest, right smack in front of God and Principal Hairy Ass both

All of Hellfire actually liked him 

According to Robin Buckley, Steve was entirely fine with “all us triangles” quote/unquote 

And;

Eddie was jealous.

He was self aware enough to admit it, alongside the fact that Jason Carver aside, maybe Eddie had been the villain today instead of Steve. 

Which meant he not only owed Harrington an apology, but he owed it to both of them to work out his own stupid shit before it blew up in his face and cost him all his friends.

(He’d have called this move “pulling a Harrington” before today but now that feels mean, which Eddie supposes signals he’s grown as a person or some shit.) 

So now he sits on Steve’s beemer, knowing the move will likely antagonize the ex-jock but equally knowing he’s planning on jumping off the car the second the guy comes near, and that the move itself will get Harrington to listen to him the second he’s done supervising whatever Hellfire’s youngest is doing.

(Eating leftover cookies like the older members are as they finish packing up, Eddie assumes.) 

Ducking out like he did had allowed him some much needed time to think things though. Figure out what he was going to say--without an audience present.

He’d apologize publicly if he had to. But being vulnerable is hard, and given the way his friends had been acting, Steve isn’t the only person he owes an apology to. 

For now, he’ll begin here, without an audience. 

Eddie doesn’t get to plan for long--only gets to rehearse a few lines of his little spiel when a pointed cough jerks him back to reality. 

There stands Steve Harrington, a fat wad of cash in one hand and a box in the other.

Like a man sent to the gallows, Eddie leapt off the beemer, squaring his shoulders. 

He could do this.

 Apologize-- and mean it. 

Not that Steve gave him the chance to. 

“The guys told me to give this to you.” He said, holding out the cash. Then he took a breath, like he was preparing to go to war, and added; 

“I know you weren’t happy with me being here, and you probably don’t want this, but Dustin said you really liked cinnamon brownies so I made you some.” 

The box was now held out alongside the cash, proof that Steve had tried to start this whole thing off on the right foot. 

Eddie stared at it, then at Steve. 

Felt the guilt chew on his gut just that much harder.

“I have been shitty to you all day. Why are you giving me this?” 

Steve shrugged. 

“To be fair I didn’t exactly make it easy on you either. You said jump and I said ‘watch this’.” Steve laughed, a small, almost self depicting sound. “Dustin’s been on my ass all day about it.” 

Of course he had. 

“Mine too.” Eddie admitted. “It's his tone, I swear."

“Yes!” 

Carefully, Eddie reached out, accepted the box and the cash. 

“Thanks by the way. For the stuff you said about me earlier.” 

Steve grimaced, cheeks tinting a (lickable) red. “Yeah sorry, I--”

“No not--not that stuff.’ Eddie said, mentally hauling his thoughts back in line, fiddling with the cash. “The stuff about being a good person. No one’s uh. Said that. About me.”

Not except for Wayne, but Harrington wouldn’t know nor care about Eddie’s uncle. 

Steve shrugged. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.” 

He’d argue that, except something was off. 

It took Eddie a moment to place it--that the wad Steve handed over was way too big for the little bake sale they’d just attended. 

He tucked the box under his arm, quickly counting the stack with a smoothness only drug dealers and bank tellers could manage.

“It’s all there, I promise.” Steve told him simply, but without judgment. He sounded like he expected this and that didn’t sit right with Eddie either. 

Not that he could do anything about it because he’d just counted up didn’t make any sense. 

Not trusting himself, Eddie stacked it back together, before counting it all again. He was faster this time, trying to figure out among all the ones, fives and tens how the hell they had managed to sell that many cookies. 

Particularly considering the most expensive thing was one of the cakes and he’d watched Steve sell it for fifteen dollars. 

So why were there three twenties sitting in the stack? 

“Either you up charged the absolute shit out of someone’s mom, in which case I congratulate you, you sneaky devil,” Eddie said slowly, “Or you put extra cash in here.” 

Steve blushed properly this time. 

Eddie zeroed in on his face, watching as Steve rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, trying to pull his charming mask into place.

He didn't quite manage it.

Hadn’t even been wearing it before now, Eddie realized suddenly.

This entire conversation Steve had a realness to him that Eddie had never really seen. 

Had maybe not wanted to see, from someone like Harrington. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” Steve protested, like a kid who’d been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. “That’s what we charged.” 

“You are a terrible liar.” Eddie accused, hand trembling. “We can’t take this, man. This is a almost two hundred dollars.” 

Way more than what they’d need for Gen Con. It was enough to get them two fuckin’ hotel rooms! 

“If It helps any, I didn’t do it for you.” Steve’s blush slid into something more genuine, as he nodded his head to where Hellfire was spilling out of the gym doors, laughing and shoving one another. 

“They deserve to have a good trip.” He added, eyes fond as he watched Dustin and Mike squabble over how to fold Hellfire's banner.

It made his whole face soften, the harsh features of his jaw turning into something that was so adorable Eddie wanted to bite through it. 

“Do you want to come?” Someone said, and it took both Steve’s startled look and a second long pause for Eddie to realize that someone was him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid-! 

“To the convention?” Steve asked, looking doubtful. 

Pity that Eddie was already nodding, like his brain and his body were at a total disconnect.

Maybe aliens had finally taken him over. Or a demon. 

(Demonic possession could frankly explain a lot about today, Carver’s weird little power play aside.)

“Dude you don’t even like me.” Steve said. “Why would you want me to come along?” 

“I dunno Harrington. All of Hellfire seemed to like you, and not just my freshman.” Eddie countered easily, gliding right over the fact that he himself did like Steve.

Way more than he should, and that right there was half of Eddie’s problem. 

“They have pretty good taste in things.” He waived a hand, as if this wasn’t a complete 180 from how he’d acted all day. “I could understand if you didn’t want to slum it with us nerds though.”

Steve rolled his eyes. 

“I’ve been slumming it all day with you nerds, if you haven’t noticed.” 

“Yeah? What’s your verdict on us?” 

“Not as bad as you could be.” 

Eddie tilted his head back and laughed. “High praise from the King!”

He felt bad immediately after, and made himself promise to be more mindful about Robin’s ask--but  thankfully Harrington didn’t take it hard. 

(Habits, Eddie knew, were hard to change.

Took a lot of careful attention to change. 

He had a long road ahead of him, and he hoped this little olive branch put him a few miles down it.) 

Steve awarded him a small smile. “I haven’t been the King for a long while, man. But if you guys have an opening, I think I wouldn’t mind being a knight or whatever.” 

“Ste-eeeve Harrington, defender of the realm.” Eddie nodded once, decisively. “I can see it.”

He tucked away the cash, and thus missed how Steve looked weirdly contemplative at that. 

Raised his head and stuck out a hand. 

Tentatively, Steve took it. 

“Welcome to the club, Harrington. We meet on Fridays. Bring snacks.” 

“Cookies okay?”

“Going by Gareth’s judgment, they’re more than okay.”

Eddie smiled and Steve smiled back, and God how he hated how fucking cute Harrington’s face was. 

Particularly since he now got to think of the guy as “Steve” without feeling weird about it. 

As in his possible, potential, friend Steve.

What a fucking trip that was. 

“Oh, and Steve?” He called, the thought hitting him as Steve turned to welcome the group making their way to the beemer.

Steve had let his hand fall, turning to open the front door of the Beemer with a cocked eyebrow.

Eddie flicked a finger out, lightly tapping the Hellfire logo. “Tell Lucas I’ll get him another shirt. That one’s all yours, big boy.” 

If there was a pink hue to Harrington’s cheeks, he was blaming sunburn. 

(Two months, six days, and one meddlesome asshole named Henderson later, and Eddie would find out that Steve had in fact, been blushing.

He’d be furious at Dustin’s involvement, if it hadn’t directly led to Eddie finding out Steve’s blush did in fact go down his chest.

And his happy trail.

And his--

Well.

Men do not kiss and tell. 

Not to fucking freshmen, anyway.) 

THERE IS A GEN CON, "THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED BECAUSE DUSTIN IS A MEDDLESOME SHIT" BONUS BUT it's on A03 cause it was long enough to be its own post and I wasn't gonna add it to this one. You can read it here LINK

[coco-loco-nut]

High Flyer

pairing: charles x reader

summary: what happens when Ferrari wants you to go up in the air with a hot pilot

masterlist part two requests open

——————————————

You didn’t know why you agreed to let the Ferrari PR team send you to an air force base, yet here you are, sitting in a briefing. Lucky Carlos got out of it, and you’ve never hated that Spaniard more than now. He got to go have fun at Ferrari World.

“Ready to meet the pilot taking you up tomorrow?” your guide says, trying not to scare you more. It isn’t that you don’t like flying, you love regular planes, and you love driving fast, you don’t like the idea of combining both of those things.

“Y/n, this is Perceval,” the guide says, motioning to a man who looks criminally good in a green jumpsuit. Meanwhile, you are roasting in the Abu Dhabi heat.

“Nice to meet you, Ma’am,” the man, Perceval, says, extending his hand for you to shake it.

“Y/n, please. Ma’am is to matronly,” you flush.

“Of course,” he is so put together and it’s hot, you don’t know why. It’s probably the uniform.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” and just like that you are left to your fate.

“So, um, is Perceval your actual name?” you awkwardly ask, looking at him with wide, curious eyes. He catches you by surprise by holding back a laugh - a crack in his initial stoic demeanor.

“No, well yes. It’s my call sign, but it’s my middle name,” he says as you nod along. “You have no idea what a call sign is, do you?” he smiles, amused that he will have to take you in a plane in less than 24 hours.

“No, but I am here to learn and fly apparently,” you try to focus on everything but him.

“Yes. It will be fun,”

“So if your name isn’t Perceval, what is it?” you let the curiosity win, asking the piece of information he hasn’t given you yet.

“Lieutenant Charles “Perceval” Leclerc,” he leads you to the tarmac, where his plane is parked. Charles, what a nice name.

“Charles,” you test his name out, and it sends his head reeling. “Nice to officially meet you,” you smile.

“Want to take a ride? We’ve been approved to take a short flight today,” Charles asks, locking down any romantic thoughts, regaining his poise. He’s on duty right now, he can’t act like a civilian.

“No,” you answer quickly. Charles looks confused, shouldn’t you be excited to do this. “Sorry, it’s just that I’m a little scared,” your voice grows quiet as you look away, trying to hide the last part.

“Don’t you drive fast for a living?” Charles asks.

“What about it?”

“Look, I promise it’s better to go up now, without any cameras, than tomorrow. You have to get fitted for a flight suit regardless,” Charles says, a little confused why you would even sign up to do this if you were scared. Plus, you are a top driver, you are used to fast cars.

“I’m not going to get out of this, am I?” you ask, he just shakes his head. “Fine,” you bite your lip, staring at the plane that has come into view.

“She doesn’t bite,” Charles says, patting the fuselage. You are promptly escorted to get changed as Charles does his checks on the plane.

You return fifteen minutes later with your own helmet in hand, Charles has to keep himself from staring. He saw pictures of you in your race suit when researching his guest, but you look stunning in the pilot gear.

“Destiny?” he asks, looking at your helmet. Your number, 16, and a call sign given to you adorning it.

“It’s kinda embarrassing, my nickname in Italian is La Predestina, or the predestined.” you blush.

“That’s a lofty expectation,” he hums, watching you put the helmet on.

“Well, the Tifosi are something else. Ferrari is a religion,” you shrug, following previous instructions on how to get in. Your stomach is doing flips.

Charles climbs up behind you, helping you strap in before climbing into his own seat. You listen as he gets clearance and brings the engine to life.

“Is it too late to back out?” you ask nervously.

“Yep,” you feel the plane jolt as it moves forward. You focus on your breathing, muting your radio.

The pause at the runway kills you, because the next thing you know, the plane is jolting and speeding fast down the runway, going as fast as your race car. You do everything you can not to scream, but you do squeak. You are deep breathing when Charles decides to speak again.

“See, this isn’t too bad,” you can almost hear his grin, meanwhile you are trying not to throw up.

“Says you. I drive fast on the ground for a reason,”

“So you want me to slow down?”

“Please.” Charles only goes faster. When he presses in the throttle, you actually do scream a little. You hear his laugh through the radio as the plane speeds up in air. “Ready?” He doesn’t give you the chance to reply before starting to do aerial tricks.

“PERCEVAL!” Your panic is clear in your voice, and that’s when he does slow.

“Relax, cherie, ten more minutes. Plus, I have to save some tricks for tomorrow,” Charles easily turns the plane back. When you finally reach the ground, you get out of the plane as quickly as possible, legs shaking like a newborn deer.

“Fucking hell, he’s a madman,” you murmur, focusing on your footing. Charles reaches to help you, but you brush him off.

“Come on, it wasn’t that bad,” he grins, you just stare at him. “You are a championship contender driver, you are used to this,” Charles continues, a small part of himself feeling bad.

“I don’t roll my car for fun, quite the opposite actually,” you say finally, legs still shaky as you walk.

“I’ll be better tomorrow then,” Charles lies, knowing what he’s been told to do in air tomorrow.

“I know you are lying,” you huff, heading to change out of the flight suit. You cannot get back to your Ferrari quick enough, needing to get off base. Charles watches in amusement as you drive slowly, the opposite of most people when driving a sports car. You are something else, and Charles is a little sad he only has one day left in your company.

You roll up to the base in your sleek Ferrari early in the morning. You had been awake for hours, needing to fit in your training. Sure, you will face strong Gs while flying, but you had to weight train and do cardio in the morning before.

“Good morning, Lieutenant. I believe that it is my turn first,” you smile, excited to get onto the track before it is too warm. Charles is dressed in a French military uniform, appropriate for a couple hot laps. He accompanies you to the Yas Marina circuit where the PR team is waiting. You help him scan into the paddock, it’s quiet before the race weekend starts.

“You must feel like a superstar,” he comments, spurring you to talk about racing in Italy as you easily find your way to the pit lane where a Ferrari is waiting with a camera crew. You slide your race helmet on as you get into the car.

“Ready Perceval?” you ask, flexing your gloved fingers. You look a little silly, wearing a Ferrari polo and jeans with a race helmet and gloves, but you choose safety.

“This will be easy,” he smiles from under his helmet. He rarely gets to play the passenger role, and he quite enjoys it as you come to as stop at the end of the pit lane, waiting for a green light. Your practice start is perfect, launching you onto the circuit. Charles has to admit that his heart was in his throat a little.

“Aren’t you taking the turns a bit fast?” he asks, not worried about being filmed.

“I’m not taking them fast enough, see?” you grin as you go into a high speed corner. Sector two gets him, the low speed corner into a long straight and speed trap.

“Break!” he yells far ahead of your breaking point, you grin as you continue going full throttle to the breaking point. Payback is a bitch.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” you repeat his words as you get out of the car a few laps later. Most of the footage from the hot laps won’t be used to protect his dignity, but you were promised a full copy for your private amusement.

You show Charles the garage where the team is assembling the car on your way out, offhandedly promising to show him more next time.

“Next time?” Charles asks, curious as to what you meant.

“Oh, I assumed that you had been invited to the race this weekend. Sorry,” you feel heat rise in your cheeks with embarrassment.

“No, I was. I just wasn’t sure I’d see you again after this,” Charles looks at you, feeling a little bold. Your blush is cute, and he notices.

“Oh,” you whisper, unsure how to reply.

“Mind if I drive this time?” Charles takes half a step closer to you, slightly towering over you.

“Haha, yes, I do mind. Company car and all. Not to mention that I won’t be driving back,” you laugh. Your driver is awaiting you.

“Then how are we getting back?”

“My driver. The team hired me one after the time I almost crashed after a race,” you admit without a second thought.

“Aren’t you a professional driver?” Charles laughs leaning towards you, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“I was tired!” you shove him slightly, unable to keep yourself from laughing too.

“Mhmm, sure,” he grins.

“It’s true! Driving takes a lot out of you, I’m honestly surprised I wasn’t sent to medical after that one,” your smile falls back to a neutral state as you reach the outside of the paddock and the car. Charles notices the sleek, black Ferrari Purosangue waiting the both of you and opens the door for you to get in. You whisper thanks as you sit in the cool leather, a stark contrast from the warm Abu Dhabi air.

The ride back to the base is relatively quiet, music filling the void when the PR staff member isn’t explaining what you will do next. Charles sneaks glances at you, and you seem tired. Not just from being awake early, but tired of the season and doing media. A part of him wishes he could take you on a relaxing flight, let you rest, rather than terrorize you through his flying. Then again, your hot laps were terrorizing for him too.

“I think that driving in Formula One is much harder than flying,” Charles comments, you tiredly turn to look at him, humming.

“Harder? I wouldn’t even know where to start with flying, not to mention fighting in one. We balance each other out,” you smile softly before getting out of the car at the base. Before you know it, you are back in the plane with Charles at the controls.

“Ready?” you can hear the smile on Charles’ face. You take a deep breath as he prepares to take off. The go pro in front of you taunting you, and you just know that you will not receive the same courtesy that Charles will get in the video.

“I swear to god Perceval, if you roll again,” you think you may actually be green as you reach the right altitude.

“Like this?” you flip upside down, a scream escaping you lips as he dives down while inverted. Charles’ delightful laugh is like music, and you hate that you like it even though you are terrified. You spend the next thirty minutes trying not to cry, a little like Ruth Buscombe on a hot lap.

“Next time I take you on a hot lap I’m hitting more curbs,” you say when the plane stops.

“Deal,” Charles smiles as he gets out, assisting you in unbuckling and climbing out. You are shaking like a leaf. “You okay?” he asks quietly, genuinely worried.

“I’m alive,” your legs wobble on the ground.

“Here,” Charles effortlessly picks you up, carrying you back to the locker room so you can change. “Sometime I’ll take you in my private plane, a relaxing flight rather than a PR stunt like this,” he promises, holding you close. Anyone watching would swear you are dating, the way your head rests on his shoulder, the protective aura he is giving.

Charles eases you down and you stand close to him, neither of you moving. His scent is intoxicating, and with his messy hair you can’t help but to want to kiss him. You are 65% sure he likes you too. As he moves slightly closer, a voice rings through the hall.

“Perceval, meeting room, now,” a commanding tone says as Charles draws back.

“Yes, sir,” he replies, taking a step away from you. “I’m sorry, I have to go or I will be late for a training brief,” Charles apologizes, all you can do is nod before he leaves you alone. You don’t see him as you leave the base, a pang in your heart.

The paddock is swarmed with people, everyone on a different mission to complete before Qualifying starts. You pay them no mind, your Beats blasting music with noise cancellation on.

Charles watches you walk towards him, not really paying anyone any mind. Your race suit hangs low on your hips, a contrast to the tight red fireproofs underneath. You seem focused on getting to where you are going, in the zone. Charles’ eyes follow you as you walk past him, and he is smitten. He feels a tightness in his chest, a desire and longing, similar to how you felt when you saw him in his flight uniform.

You continue your stretches in the garage, the team knowing to leave you alone. The only person who bothers you when you have your headphones on is Carlos, but he’s basically your brother at this point. It isn’t that you are standoffish, you adore your team and they cannot get you to shut up half the time, you just get into your driving mode and need to stay focused.

You feel a tap on your shoulder as your eyes are closed, visualizing the circuit and things you noticed on the hot laps.

“Go away, Carlos,” you murmur, opening one eye.

“No can do, Hermosa, you are needed,” Carlos shakes his head. You narrow your eyes, turning off the headphones and slinging them around your neck.

“Lead the way,” your frown soon turns into a smile as you get to the front of your garage. “Perceval!” you hug the pilot, happy to see him again.

“Sorry to interrupt your flow, the photographers just wanted some pictures,” Charles blushes a little. You barely recognize him dressed casually, a white button up and jeans paired with a Ferrari cap that sports your number.

“Of course, I’m happy that you are here. Do you want to see the car?” you offer, practically dragging him to your car with you.

“They are together, no?” Carlos asks the media staff that followed your flight adventures, who inform him that the two of you are not dating. “Hmm, well they should be,”

Charles geeks out with you about some of the science behind the car, especially as you explain different set ups. He compares it to different aspects of the planes he flies. What intrigued him the most was your steering wheel and all the different controls. You explained some of the strategy and meanings, trying to relate it to his fighter jet.

“Y/n, time to get ready,” one of your engineers interrupts you and you nod, turning back to Charles.

“Well, enjoy qualifying,” you smile, about to head off to get your helmet and gloves on. You start pulling on your suit.

“Wait. If you take pole, will you let me take you out for dinner?” Charles asks in a moment of boldness. He’s been thinking about it since he left you standing there in the hallway.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” you smile as you put in your earpieces. You are pulled away before Charles can say anything else. An intern takes him to hospitality to watch qualifying, and he feels like his heart is pounding out of his chest as you pass through Q1 and Q2 easily. You sit in your car, waiting to go out for Q3, chatting with your mechanics.

“Go out and ruin Max and Lando’s day,” the one pats your car as you get ready to be released.

“This doesn’t feel right,” you say over the radio, feeling too much oversteer as you drive.

“Copy,” you focus on the drive, crossing the line quickly. “Yellow flag, bring the car in,” you hear soon after you finish your flying lap. As you approach the pit entrance, you see a Williams in the barrier.

“What happened?” you ask as you get rolled back into the garage.

“Albon lost his rear and spun out. You are P3 as it stands. We should have time for one more lap,” your engineer says. You and the team adjust settings and you back out, your last qualifying lap of the season.

You give the lap everything, and if you make a mistake, you made it with every effort to be the best driver on the grid. There is less than a minute left as your start your final flying lap, meaning each second is crucial.

“P1! You have pole position!” your engineer cheers as you park the car. You climb out and raise your hands above you, encouraging the crowd to cheer. The interview passes quickly and you find your way back to the garage.

“Seems like you owe me a date,” Charles smiles, unbothered by your disheveled appearance.

“I’ll meet you at hospitality in twenty then,” you grin, ready to shower and get out of the paddock for the day.

Charles watches you walk down from your room, hair slightly damp, as you look around for him.

“Sorry, I don’t have anything more dressy than this,” you apologize, looking at your Ferrari polo and khaki pants. If someone didn’t who you were, they would easily assume that you were a fan or engineer.

“That’s fine, you look beautiful regardless,” Charles smiles, happy that you are accompanying him out. He spent the twenty minutes looking for a restaurant that was more secluded but wouldn’t give you food poisoning. It ended up being a small family run restaurant, and it was an amazing dinner. Charles drops you off at your hotel after, the epitome of a perfect gentleman.

“Thanks for tonight, I haven’t had that great of a night in a long time,” you smile, leaning in to kiss his cheek.

“Anytime. Will I see you tomorrow?” he asks, trying to build up the courage to kiss you. You are so close to him, all he would have to do is lean in. The air feels electric, something intrinsic pulls you two closer.

“Yes,” you whisper against his lips, eyes fluttering closed as his soft lips meet yours. It’s over all too soon, both of you pulling away with flushed cheeks. Charles watches you leave, glancing back to look at him once more with a smile.

He is disappointed when he doesn’t see you much before the race, besides a quick hug and chat. You are pulled away by your team, media, and other celebrity guests before you seclude yourself to get into your zone. He does get the benefit of stolen glances and blushes when your eyes meet. Small giggles when your engineers and mechanics tease you.

Charles watches from the garage, watching you get undercut and fight your way back from an unfortunate P3. He fits in with the team, sporting your team hat and a Ferrari tee. When you cross the line first, he finds himself swept up with the team and pulled along to watch you at the parc ferme after you get weighed. You lock eyes with him and share a large smile. You secured P2 in the drivers championship with this win, and it means a lot to you.

You make your way over to him, letting him pull you in a big hug. You nearly kiss Charles in front of everyone.

“What do I get for winning,” you say in his ear, just loud enough for him to hear.

“A second date and a kiss away from the crowds?”

“Deal.”

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Geto/gojo/reader “I can’t believe there’s only one bed” and HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY

THANK YOOUUU!! So, this one really sang to me, I went ahead and combined the two, mostly because they are very similar. Thank you both for the prompt!!

Now Presenting...

Starring: A flirty Satoru Gojo, and a tired Suguru Geto

Your body protested every step you took as you walked into the hotel, screaming at you to lay down and accept the sweet embrace of death. Okay, maybe death was a little extreme, but you could definitely have gone for a light coma in that moment. A yawn you had been suppressing came forward, and you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Awe, well aren’t you cute when you’re sleepy.” Gojo teased with a smile, earning him a glare from you. 

“Shut up Satoru.” This entire trip he kept making note of how cute you were, and how you needed to be protected, and at this point, he was on the brink of losing vocal cord privileges.

“Flirt later you two, let’s just get checked in.” Suguru muttered as he ushered the two of you to the front desk. He tried to summon a friendly smile for the clerk, but it didn’t touch his tired eyes. “Hi! Uh, we should have two reservations under Masamichi Yaga.” He said, really hoping they didn’t ask for an id. He told his teacher that he should probably put the rooms under one of the three people going on the mission, but the man was more muscle than brain.

The young worker started typing on the computer, before confusion fell over her features. “Um, I found the reservations, but it says it’s only for one room?” She asked. You were a bit taken back by that, and you could tell from the looks on their faces the boys were too. You thought for sure you’d at least get your own room. But, then again, if getting a room with 3 beds was cheaper than getting 2 separate rooms, it did make sense for Yaga to take that route, the penny pinching bastard. 

“Uh, yea that should be fine, that’s us.” Suguru shrugged, too tired to really argue. Much to your relief (and concern) the woman nodded and happily gave over the room key, not bothering to ask for an ID. What a stand up place. The three of you dragged your tired worn bodies over to the elevator. Well, two of you did. Satoru felt fine, because of course he did. And because he had no problem filling the elevator with whatever came to his head. You shared a look with Suguru.

How do we shut him up? Your eyes asked.

Pillow over his face as he sleeps Sugurus eyes offered.

No, I want him to shut up now. 

Oh, that’s not gonna happen. For now, we just have to endure him.

You sighed, knowing he was right and hating that fact at the same time. Thankfully, the elevator door opened, and the room wasn’t far from it. Geto unlocked the door, and you and Gojo practically fell over him to get into it. You quickly went to grab your toothbrush, and Gojo went to fiddle with the tv. It was Suguru who noticed it first.

“Uh, guys? I don’t see another bed.” He said. You and Gojo stopped cold in your tracks, heads whipping to the center of the room and- yep. That was one bed, and only one bed. Not even so much as a pull out couch in sight. 

“OH ho ho!!” Satoru laughed, launching himself onto the bed and folding himself into what you think was meant to be a sexy pose. “I’ve read fan fiction before, I know what happens here!” He cackled, “Be gentle with me, I’m a virgin” He swooned, acting like a helpless flower. 

“I call sleeping in the bathtub.” Suguru said, checking out of this battle before it became a war.

“No, Don’t!” Gojo whined, reaching out to him, “The bathtub is cold and hard, I'm warm and soft. Unless you want me to be hard.” He winked. 

“I can’t believe there’s only one fucking bed, who sets this shit up?!” You snapped, aggressively waving your hands at the bed.

“God.” Gojo responded.

“Bad fan fiction writers.” Geto retorted, apparently salty about his characterization in my past fics. 

“Satoru get out of the bed.” You demanded, shaking your head. You did not just get out of a fight with ten, count em, ten first grade curses to sleep on the floor.

“How about you get in the bed?” He purred.

“I will, as soon as you get out of it.” you scoffed, fighting back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“Why not get in it with me?” He grinned at you, opening his arms wide as an invitation. 

“I’d rather sleep in the bathtub.” You replied.

“Not an option, I already called it!” Suguru reminded you.

“Why don’t you sleep with him?” You accused more than asked, “He’s your man!”

“He is most definitely not my man!” Geto rebuffed the statement, shaking his head.

“He’s actually my man, we just haven’t taken our relationship to the next level yet.” Satoru purred with a cheeky wink to Geto to really seal the deal. Geto rolled his eyes.

“I’m going to bed, goodnight.” He said, going to grab a pillow from the bed, only for Satoru to grab his arm.

“Come on guys, don’t be silly! This bed is big enough for all of us!” He argued, “We all trust each other, right?!” Gojo paused long enough to look at both you and Geto, but not long enough for an answer. He already knew it. “We know no ones going to try any funny business, we trust each other with our lives there's no reason for any of us to be uncomfortable tonight!” you and Suguru shared more glances. Gojo may be annoying, but when he was right he was right. The only thing really keeping the three of you from sharing was standard social conventions. 

“Fine, but if any of you touch me I’m throwing you off the balcony.” You warned. Geto sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sitting on the bed.

“I just don’t get why we weren’t warned about this.”

“I mean, it kind of explains the weird look she gave us.” You noted, sitting on the other side of Gojo.

“Yay, sleepover!” Gojo cheered, grabbing onto Suguru because he was the one that didn’t threaten him, “Fair warning, I’m a cuddler.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“I knew I should have just slept in the tub.” Geto sighed.

🛏️🛏️🛏️

In the morning, you were a tangled mess of limbs and drool with your two best friends. Any warning against cuddling being tossed to the wind in exchange for the comfort human warmth brings. You hated to admit it, but it was the best sleep you had gotten in weeks. Gojo woke up not long after you, smiling softly, slowly coming back to life.

“Good morning,” He said. You shook your head and covered his face with a pillow.

“It was before you started talking.” You muttered.“It’s 6 am, go back to bed.” Suguru begged, not happy to have been woken up.

[violetrainbow412-blog]

Day 10: porch swing

Masterlist flufftober 🎃

Reblog if you liked it!

You visited your mother frequently at the sanatorium, as it had been a tough blow to accept that you had to make a life without her. Senile dementia, they said, likely caused by a combination of other illnesses, but that was what it was in the end.

You tried to spend as much time as possible during those visits because, even though you knew she was better cared for there, you didn’t want her to think you had abandoned her. Fortunately (in some way), your mother had found an old friend there, none other than Mrs. Diana Reid. It had been years since you’d seen her, and you felt guilty thinking about how poorly you and her son had communicated, to the point that you never knew her schizophrenia had escalated to the extent that she had to be placed there.

The two elderly women had their good and bad days, but overall, your mother enjoyed the literature workshops Diana taught, and Diana, in turn, loved watching your mother knit. She had even learned to make a few things, including a purple scarf meant for her son, whom you hadn’t seen there even once since your mother began living there.

Diana often talked to you about him, telling you things he mentioned in his letters, and all you could do was feel touched. Once upon a time, when the world was simpler and you were younger, you had a bit of a soft spot for the boy, without realizing that what you felt was called love. It was a childish thing, even silly, you could say, but you often found yourself smiling when you thought of him, and you never wanted to spend the day with anyone else, making him stay at your house until late at night, ending in a sleepover.

You had always been more daring and carefree, so you often showed up with new cuts and bruises. He, so calm and proper, always tried to dissuade you from your impulsive plans, but in the end, he joined in, claiming he only did it to look after you. Climbing trees, hunting for bugs, and looking for trouble were the things your childhood was filled with. And for a sickly, fearful boy like Spencer, those adventures were incredible experiences.

One of those weekends when you could visit your mother, you noticed that you couldn’t see Diana anywhere. You assumed she was in a consultation or busy with other activities, but after a couple of hours without any sign of her, you started to worry.

“Excuse me, is Mrs. Reid okay?” you hoped she hadn’t had any health complications or suffered any incident. “I just… I haven’t seen her today.”

“Diana? Apparently, her son requested permission to transfer her to stay with him a few days ago. But as far as I know, she’s fine, miss.”

“Oh, I’m so glad,” you replied with relief. “I was afraid she had gotten worse. My mother and she are friends, so I was worried. About both of them, of course.”

“Don’t worry, she’s in good hands,” the nurse reassured you, slightly moved by your concern. “Has your mother been improving?”

Following that question, the two of you started chatting, and the matter of your mother’s friend was forgotten, at least for that day. Work and other activities kept your mind busy until your next visit to the sanatorium, nearly a week later. You decided to buy flowers for your mother so she could decorate the nightstand next to her bed, along with some pastries to share.

However, it was a huge surprise when you arrived at the courtyard area (where the nurse had told you she was) and saw her sitting at one of the tables, accompanied by Diana Reid and another person you could only see from behind—a head of messy, golden hair.

A strange feeling grew as you approached, one you couldn’t identify until you heard the voice of the stranger. It had become deeper, of course, but it was still the same voice.

“Spencer?”

The man nearly fell out of his chair when he saw you, looking as pale as if he had seen a ghost and equally shocked by your appearance. You thought it was probably silly of him to think he wouldn’t run into you there, but you still found it endearing. His features had definitely changed, making him more of a man and less of the shy boy you had known.

“My dear!” your mother murmured, visibly excited. “Look who came to visit.”

He wasted no time, standing up fully and wrapping you in a happy hug. At first, he feared you might pull away from the contact, but that fear disappeared when you enthusiastically returned the greeting.

“I’m so happy to see you!”

“Me too! My mom and your mom have been keeping me up to date,” he laughed playfully. His body felt so soft against yours, giving you an inexplicable sense of security.

When you pulled away, you couldn’t help but notice that your mother and Mrs. Reid were looking at each other with complicity, as if they were hiding a secret.

“I brought, uh… something to eat. We can share it.”

Spencer found another chair and placed it next to him so you could sit down, inviting you into the conversation he had been having with the women, which you found fascinating. Every now and then, you would discreetly glance at him and try to get him to talk as much as possible. Although you already knew some things from Diana, chatting with your old friend felt refreshing.

It was uplifting to see both women so calm, and the extra company was so pleasant that the hours passed by like minutes. The afternoon had already turned into evening when you said your goodbyes to your mothers, and as you walked out of the sanatorium, you and Spencer stood there looking at each other for a moment.

Without Diana or your mother there, you both seemed too shy to start speaking, unsure of what to say.

"Did you come by car?"

“No, I was planning on calling a cab to get to the airport.”

“Oh, are you leaving so soon?”

“Yeah, I was thinking of heading back today. I mean… I didn’t expect to see anyone, so…”

“I completely understand! Don’t worry. You probably have other commitments, I don’t want to take up your time.”

“No, actually I bought a ticket for an open flight. So I can take it whenever I want.”

That information carried an implicit invitation, discreet enough that if you squinted, you might miss it, and you didn’t hesitate for a second before speaking.

“You could come over to my place, if you want. Have a drink, dinner, or whatever you’d like. You know, for old times’ sake.”

He immediately smiled, pleased that you had invited him, as he didn’t want to be presumptuous by suggesting spending more time together. After all, he didn’t know if you were as excited about seeing each other as he was.

Spencer happily accepted, and then you guided him to your car, where you set off. You had tried to find a sanatorium close to your house, in case of an emergency, so it only took a few minutes to arrive.

The house, still very familiar to Spencer, was where your mother, your late father, and you had lived most of your life. Now, it looked renewed, as if you had recently painted it, exuding that feeling of nostalgia and warmth.

“It’s still there,” Spencer noted as he glanced at the porch.

Many years ago, when you were children, during the summer heat, you loved sitting on the wooden swing there to eat ice cream in amounts that were probably unhealthy for kids. Apparently, this memory was a fond one for your friend, as he smiled at the sight.

“A while back, we hired someone to varnish and reinforce it. So I guess we could sit here. Like before, huh?”

“Sure,” he murmured, excited by the idea.

You went inside, and once you set down your things, you headed to the fridge to take out some cheese, cold cuts, and crackers you had recently bought, all to pair with a bottle of wine you had been gifted for your birthday.

“I don’t like drinking alone,” you confessed as he helped you carry the tray of food “It depresses me.”

You heard him chuckle as the two of you stepped outside. Night had already fallen over the city, so you turned on the soft, warm light that illuminated the porch and took a seat, with him joining you soon after.

For a moment, once again, neither of you knew what to say. You simply swayed slightly, as if trying to make an idea come to mind, but you decided the best way to break the silence was to pour a couple of glasses. After a while, the wine seemed to make everything lighter, and the two of you began to talk about whatever came to mind.

It was an intimate conversation, almost in whispers, and at one point, you made a silly joke that caused your bodies to lean toward each other by instinct. Your cheeks were already flushed from the wine, not enough to make you lose consciousness but enough to give you a feeling of lightness and confidence.

“Can I confess something?” you suddenly said, your mouth moving faster than your brain.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“When I was a kid…” you began, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. But after a second of silence, it no longer seemed like such a good idea. “You know what? Forget it. It’s absurd.”

“No! Tell me,” he urged, thinking you were about to share some kind of embarrassing secret.

Well, he wasn’t entirely wrong.

“But promise you won’t make fun of me?”

“I won’t,” he insisted, smiling at you sweetly and giving your arm a gentle squeeze, as if encouraging you. “Tell me.”

You inhaled, then exhaled. And before you could second-guess yourself, the words spilled out.

“Well, years ago, when we were friends… I mean, I guess we’re still friends, but… I don’t know, I had this huge crush on you. I thought you were so cute and sweet with your big glasses and protective attitude. You never said no to me,” you sighed, reminiscing. “And it’s funny now, I think. To think that I was in love with you when we were kids.”

Reid just watched you, like he would study a puzzle he didn’t quite understand. He seemed… confused? You hoped he wasn’t mad, of course. And suddenly, you felt foolish for having brought it up, thinking you had completely ruined the atmosphere, making it tense and awkward.

Still, you said nothing. You were embarrassed, but at least your consolation was that Spencer wouldn’t be there the next morning to face the consequences.

“Are you kidding?”

“Why would I joke about that?” you exclaimed, hurt when he finally decided to speak. You weren’t looking at him. “It’s just a childish thing, Spencer. I thought it would be funny, but I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable. It’s just something silly, okay? Let’s not make a big deal out of it.”

“Were you really in love with me?” he asked, incredulous at the idea and ignoring what you had just said.

“Yes! But like I said, it was years ago…”

“Oh,” he exhaled, sounding almost disappointed. That’s when you looked at him, and it wasn’t hard for you to read him: he was nervous. “Yeah, I guess that was a long time ago, right? We haven’t seen each other in years and… yeah, you’re right. It’s funny.”

There was something off in his words. He sounded deflated, more like some illusion had been broken rather than being upset by what you had said.

Maybe it was the alcohol clouding your judgment, maybe it was the way his hands were fidgeting in his lap, or perhaps even the sad expression that had appeared on his face, but suddenly everything about him seemed to scream one thing. It was as if he were calling out to you, saying: kiss me.

And, impulsively, you did.

It would have been wise to stop after the first kiss, just to check if he was comfortable with it and that you weren’t overstepping. But you didn’t have the willpower to stop. You needed to kiss Spencer.

You kissed him again, and then again, and it wasn’t until that moment that he seemed to snap out of the shock he was in, returning the kiss passionately. Suddenly, you were both completely swept up at the moment, feeling as if kissing each other was essential to moving forward; like it was something you should have been doing for years, not just right then.

“I’m sorry…” he exhaled suddenly, as his hand moved to your waist to pull you closer. “Is this okay?”

“It is,” you nodded immediately, feeling breathless. One of your hands went up to gently brush his hair back. “Are you okay?”

He shook his head, almost as if delirious. His eyes had closed, and he looked like he was suffering.

“You kissed me,” he murmured, as if he needed to say it out loud to believe it. “I feel like my heart’s going to burst out of my chest.”

Your fear vanished when you heard him say that, and encouraged by his reaction, you leaned in to kiss him again. However, after a few more kisses, he stopped you.

“Will you visit me?”

“Huh?”

“Will you visit me? When I go back to DC?”

His question puzzled you since you didn’t think it was something he’d ask in the middle of all that.

“I guess… yeah. If you want me there, I could visit someday.”

“You’re not just going to kiss me, and then we’ll forget this ever happened?”

“Do you want that?”

“No,” he sighed shakily. His thumb traced your lips gently as he held your face in his hand. “Do you want that?”

“No,” you replied in the same way, kissing him again.

Although you wanted to, you weren’t going to hint at anything more with your friend, and he thought it wasn’t proper to suggest anything either. So, for a while, you simply continued kissing each other, softly and slowly, as if wrapped in a bubble where time didn’t pass.

“The wine was delicious, by the way.”

“It tastes even better on your lips, I’m sure,” you whispered, lovesick. You kissed him again and then spoke against his lips. “I’m glad you came back.”

You felt him smile.

“Me too.”

[xazse]

scara would be such an asshole to bunny!reader (or hybrid!reader in general) lol, constantly pulling your ears and pulling your tail..

can I request scara teasing bunnt reader and then he starts to feel a little bad when he notices his bunny is all sad and sulking!

How can he not feel bad when he hears your sobbing in the middle of the night?:( He'd probably fxck you dumb and fill you as a sorry <3

SCARAMOUCHE X BUNNYGIRL!READER

Notes: you guys are killing me so good 😭, btw if you do want more scara stuff leave me some prompts like the first anon did, I’m kinda running short on ideas. And I decided to combine two asks

Pairings: Scaramouche x Bunnygirl!Reader

Tags: Hybrid!Reader, Crying, Squirting, Mean!Scaramouche, Biting, NOT PROOFREAD (lol none of my works are)

Oh he’s such a bastard some days, when he thinks you’ve been a little too annoying some days he’ll simply tap your nose, he knows how sensitive the damn thing is, it’s the only thing that’ll get you to give him some time to hear his own thoughts, it doesn’t last long before you’re giving him feather light kisses all over his face.

A day where he’s relaxing in his office, all his work finished you come prancing in yipping for his attention again… for the third time today. He’s sitting in his chair when you come wrap your arms around his neck and sit down on his lap. Scaramouche really isn’t in the mood

to entertain you, so he gently pushes you off.

“Not right now..” Scaramouche scolds, he can’t see the hurt in your eye but you make no move to leave the room, you’ve been with him for a while but still aren’t used to blunt attitude.

The rest of the week is spent him pushing you away, turning you away, barely engaging with you, it hurts you so badly, you want to be able to talk about your day with him, cuddle and kiss him but he just isn’t going for it.

Your breaking point is when you were both in bed, you were half asleep and attempted to move on top of him just for the extra comfort, it was fine the first few seconds, your long fluffy ears relaxing before he once again brushed you off of him, insisting it was way to hot for you to be ontop of him.

That really was it, you started to sleep in the living room, giving scara the excuse that it was too stuffy in the bedroom right now, he didn’t even double check to see if that was the real reason. Later that night he’s awoken by soft sobbing, he’s been waiting so patiently for this, for you to break down already. He knows it’s a terrible thing to do, make his own girl cry just for the sake of pleasure, he can admit it was a little hard but nonetheless his pants tighten at the sound of your sniffles.

He treads soundlessly to the living room where you’re under the cover, on your stomach. your sobbing becoming more apparent. You haven’t noticed his presence yet, not until you jump from feeling a hand rubbing your cunt back and forth, only the thin layers of your panties keeping him from directly touching you. A small whine leaves your throat in-between your sniffling, and it’s so fucking hot, he doesn’t stop the motion of his hands before he’s palming his heavy cock beneath his hand.

His eyes are half lidded looking at your twitching tail, the small thing visible even under the cover. You don’t make a move to look at him either, simply content with just the pleasure he’s giving you. He removes the cover off your form he can’t see your face due to it being buried into a pillow, you won’t allow him to see your ruined face, won’t allow him to see the progress.

That just spurs him on further, his breathing’s increased a tenthfold. He grips your hips and lifts them up, but he lets you continue to sulk in the pillow, a nice arch being showcased to him. He doesn’t want to rush into fucking you, he wants you a little dumb and numb.

He pulls his underwear down a little, letting only his cock free, his balls heavy with need looking at your clothed cunt. He grabs ahold of your hips again and pulls you right against him: agaisnt his cock, he starts slow when he rubs himself against your pussy, groans are already leaving his throat in short pauses. He’s guiding your hips up and down.

You looked so cute, the ultimate submission from your part has his hips speeding up, he’ll worry about apologizing later, right now he needs to be balls deep inside of you.

He quickly pulls your panties down, exposing your pussy to the cool night draft. His sweet bunny is oh so wet from the grinding: it makes the situation much easier. He jerks himself off a few times before lining up with your hole and pushing himself In all the way.

A sharp whine leaves your lips, it doesn’t even take another second before your clenching down on him, he doesn’t give you time, already giving you fast deep strokes, so deep he has to use a little bit of strength to hold your torso down. The way his cock drags along your walls is so good, so dizzying, he positions himself to press his stomach on your back, getting close to your head right in your ear.

“So good, you feel so good..” the way his voice shivers makes you feel a tad bit better but that doesn’t excuse the hurt, your tears have dried up, your sobs have stopped but the constant sniffling remains.

He continues to fuck you hard, whilst still whispering obscenities into your ear, he leans up just a little, seeing your ears twitch a sudden desire fills him, a mean one at that: he bites the fluff of your ear down hard. Your eyes flutter shut hard and you cry out in pain, he feels your pussy contract around him, and a liquid coating his cock, he feels his body flare up , he’s hammering into you even harder than before while you cry and babble out his name repeatedly, it’s the first time he’s made you ever squirt but it’s still an achievement, he didn’t even know your ears were just that sensitive.

[tragedy-of-commons]

call to action

boothill x gn!reader | wc: ~1.4k

Always get your hopes up.

tags/warnings: alcohol mentions and references (reader actually doesn't drink explicitly), romantic tension, ipc cog reader, mental gymnastics, pining in a weird constipated way

notes: this is a request from a lovely ao3 commenter, aqua! "...i'd like to request a Boothill x IPC reader if that's fine?" + i also combined this with a dialogue prompt from @/promptlyprompting!

“You’d be a fool to say no.”

Boothill’s voice remains a coarse drawl that almost sounds scolding. Even if your way of running the show has always been at odds with his, he’s never outright called you a fool of all things. His offer hangs in the air, making the sticky atmosphere of the bar even more unbearable. The bulbous red light fixtures sway overhead as the ringleader of a nearby group slams an animated fist on the counter, licks of crimson fleetingly painting the tops of your heads.

You laugh, drink going untouched as it always does; at the end of the night, when you both fight over the tab, you always surrender yours over to him as a peace offering. Maybe tonight you’ll need to give more than that to appease him. “I’d be a bigger fool to listen to you. You aren’t exactly known for being the most reasonable of the bunch.”

“I don’t extend this opportunity to just anyone,” he reminds you, lips curling into a toothy grin. “To me, it seems like you’re looking for excuses to miss out like you always do. That mind of yours ain’t too rigid for Galaxy Ranger business, y’know. I bet you’d make it work.”

Boothill is weird, that much is apparent, yes, but only he would ask you to join him on his journey, call you a fool, and then compliment your mindset all in the same artificial breath. His audacity is so offensive that it’s a wonder that Lan themself hasn’t struck him down. He gets away with so much - including making you hope for a different future. Including making you hope for a different future with him.

The exterior of the bar is just as cramped and loud as the interior. Visitors modding their vehicles on the outcrop of the main strip—Mechanic’s Haven—shout and drill away at the innards of spaceships, drones, satellites, and whatever else - wayward sparks landing at the feet of shoppers and pedestrians. There’s something to be said about an IPC lackey and a Galaxy Ranger walking into a bar, but he wisely refrains. 

You sigh. “You know I can’t. As fun as chasing pipe dreams with you would be, I’m locked into a contract with the largest corporation in the whole known universe,” you make a point of gesturing to your uniform. “That kind of obligation doesn’t just go away, even if you run from it.”

He snorts, an empathetic little thing. Boothill then pops his hat off and situates it on your head, much to your chagrin. The noise you let out is affronted, the brim of the relic obscuring the better part of your vision. How disgustingly fond of him. “I see where you’re comin’ from, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t ask you to reconsider. You’d be a much better fit here than there.”

(The unspoken words stick to the roof your mouth. You’d be a much better fit with me than with them.)

Part of you agrees. There’s always been a scale in your head that weighs the fairness of each step you take - measuring the footfalls of others in tandem with yours; you know what it is like to have a strong sense of justice that itches to be upheld. Boothill witnessed this side of you firsthand, when the first words you ever spoke to him were something along the lines of: “Leave the freelancers here alone. Those are the prices, and they’re that steep for a reason. Pay him in full or I’ll make sure you’re in need of a few more repairs.”

You’re also aware of the strange role you play in this. Being on the IPC’s payroll, the contractual thing to do was to report the outlaw to your superiors immediately and enjoy the generous bounty on his head, but you didn’t. You didn’t because when you came face to face with the Boothill, you were ambushed with a childlike wonder you hadn’t felt in years, even if your righteous admonishment didn’t reflect it.

Nowadays, this dingy old bar with no name isn’t the same without his wild tales. Mechanic’s Haven isn’t the same without him at your side as you weave through the clusters of people, him poking fun at your job and your unwillingness to turn him in. When he calls you one of the good ones, you begrudgingly call him a pretty stand-up guy. He gets a kick out of that.

This planetary pitstop is growing more suffocating by the minute. You tip the hat upward to let it sit on your head at a higher angle so you can actually see, narrowed eyes trained on your companion. “You think so? And what makes you so sure, huh?”

He makes a show of flexing his fingers before balling the scrapwork appendages into a fist, taking great care in placing it over where his heart would be, if he was not the thing he is now. The look he fixes you with is complicated, layers of something hidden behind that thick accent and the centers of those crosshairs. “Call it a gut feeling. Y’know, as arbitrary,” he enunciates the word painstakingly, “as the universe is, there’s a reason we met. You got what it takes… and I ain’t afraid to shy away from that truth like you are.”

There it is again. “I’m not afraid. I just happen to think before I act.”

Boothill sighs and swipes your drink that’s been collecting dust with a deft hand, knocking it back. He recovers, gaze raking over your form. It isn’t salacious in the slightest, you think, the way he starts at the tip of his hat’s feather to the silver insignia resting over your heart. Maybe his eyes lingered on your lips too, but that could be you injecting something pointless like hope into this relationship that doesn’t need to be there. That seems more likely. 

“A little too much if I do say so myself,” he guffaws, much to the displeasure of the other patrons. He plucks his hat back off your head with something like amusement, returning it to its rightful place. “You’re as stubborn as a mule, but I know when I’ve been bested. Come on, it’s gettin’ late.”

You two don’t fight over the tab this time around, him sliding a generous amount of credit to the barkeep who just looks slightly bewildered at two of his regulars not verbally fistfighting each other like they normally do. The question in his stare makes your cheeks feel hotter than lava, and you walk with Boothill out of the bar without much fuss, greeting the mild night cold. The silence that you share isn’t uncomfortable, but there’s more to be said. You know he wants nothing more than to hear a yes from you, which sends your mental equilibrium into dizzying contention.

Something is not right, and it is your fault.

With an audible swallow, you fight the butterflies in your stomach and nudge his side. The raucous song of Mechanic’s Haven harmonizes with the thrumming in your ears. “Hey.”

He turns to look at you, whistling a tune you can’t place.

“I’ll give it some more thought. Don’t get your hopes up, because becoming a fugitive by association seems like a lot more trouble than it’s worth,” you cough.

Boothill beams and it just serves to confuse your internal scale even more. One would think you’re suddenly inorganic with how it feels like you’re short-circuiting. Is this an acute onset of cardiac arrest? Or is it something else you’ve been pushing away for months on end?

He nudges you back. “I knew you’d come around! And the first lesson of being a Galaxy Ranger,” he starts, “is to always get your hopes up.”

Yeah… it’s definitely something else entirely. Something that, in all likelihood, is going to get you into massive trouble. You understand the risks that come with fraternizing with an outlaw, have weighed them heavily against your heart, and have reached only one verdict:

You’ll sleep on it.

(You’ll end up following this cowboy no matter what. Even you, deep down, know that he’s been sticking around the area for way too long, like he’s waiting for something or someone. It just so happened to be you. Dang it all to heck and back.)

taglist: @flower-yi, @moineauz, @aphrodict, @nomazee, @singularity-sam, @harque, @thestarswhisper

[datesinredink]

could you possibly write headcanons you have of how the rise yanderes would like psychologically manipulate/punish their darling? i’m all for physical violence but what do they do to mess their darling up in the head?

ty very much for reading this if you do :)

THANK YOU SO MUCH RAGHHHHHH!!!!! Since this is such a fun question to answer im gonna order these from most to least awful. The ranking is just my opinion and i would LOVE to see what other people think jhwhnwiurfj i decided to chug a soda to write this and i think that was a great decision because i immediately came up with smth for donnie because of it.

I decided to search up some ACTUAL psychological torture methods that have been/are used in real life and let normal manipulation take more of a backseat so that this didn’t end up too repetitive- honestly would recommend researching it, it’s a fun topic.

Trigger warnings: Very unfun use of technology in your arm, Drugging, More drugging, Even more drugging, Withholding of food/water (+ a more mild example of doing so but it still happens), Mild descriptions of gore, Mentions of blood, general yandere stuff like kidnapping, and likely others- please ask me to tag anything else triggering, because unfortunately I am not perfect.

1- Donnie.

This might be surprising to some of you. Yes, Leo is the manipulator- he’s the face man, the people guy, but I think that in terms of sheer awfulness- Donnie is going to win here simply because of the potential with his tech.

He’s a genius with access to mystic powers who has incredible skill with both designing and creating various machines and gadgets. I think that he’d be very creative, just considering how much he thought to fit into just his bō staff.

My first thought was that he could come up with a small device (which might be able to double as a tracker) to embed under your skin that could move around. It would skitter up and down your arm like a beetle (likely your dominant arm, just to be worse) and be a nice cherry on top of anything else he could come up with.

To pair with that, he could force some type of hallucinogenic drug down your throat- after some googling, LSD would be a likely candidate. While apparently it usually only causes “pseudo-hallucinations” (where you know that they aren’t real, whereas true hallucinations would be where you think they are), true hallucinations can happen, and the pseudo-hallucinations combined with the environment alone would be enough to cause a panic attack. Not even to mention the kind of drugs that the mystic city might have. (edit: i just found out about datura??? GODDAMN THAT’S A STRONG DRUG.)

Also, I think that Donnie would actually take decent care of you prior to any sort of escape attempt or broken rule. He’d hate for you to waste away in a dark room for the rest of your now shared life, so he would take you outside to some private space for a set amount of time everyday while you’re chained to him and probably gagged so you don’t call for help- you need time in the sun and exercise, after all. That’s why I think he’d also stop doing that if you broke a rule. You don’t want to be anywhere near him, and he supposes that he’s fine with that- but if you really don’t want anything to do with Donnie anymore, then you’ll just have to deal with losing all the luxuries that came with him being so caring.

He’ll lower the temperature in your room and take the hoodie that he so graciously gave you and waltz on out. He still brings you food and water, but now it’s less frequent and more random since now he’s prioritizing his brilliant inventions. Sorry dear, but weren’t you the one who begged him to leave you alone? Now he is. What’s the problem?

2- Leo.

Even if you haven’t done anything wrong (yet), being kept in his room would probably be a nightmare. I feel in my adhd soul that he would NOT be good at keeping it clean. It’d be living in a constant mess, and as someone who has lived in a perpetually messy house, it will definitely take a toll on your mental health. Not to mention the additional noise from whatever he and his brothers are doing. You wouldn’t be allowed outside of it either, not for a while at least, so you’d never know what day or time it is.

Other than the already constant sensory of his room, I think that Leo would mainly use threats- of which he goes through with. Not against you, though, but against your family, (what’s left of) your friends, and any other loved ones you might have. He’ll drag their unconscious body into whatever room he’s keeping you in, and wait with you for them to wake up.

While you two are waiting, he’ll lay out everything he’s planning to do to them in awful detail- and lucky you, he even left out some things as a nice surprise!

You’ll be tied to a chair and forced to watch as their guts fall to the ground from the clean slice in their now empty abdomen while Leo picks up and talks about their functions one by one. You silently wish that you never told him that you admired his skills as the team medic.

When he’s finally done rambling about the various viscera laying on the cold floor, he’ll force you to help him clean up- “so that Raph doesn’t get mad about the mess”, as he says. He’ll hold you in his arms when the two of you are done, whispering in your ear about how sorry he is that he had to do that, but you really did force his hand, and you know that, right? If only you had listened…

When the list of people you can bring yourself to care about finally has 0 names, Leo starts to instead take things away from you. He starts small, gradually taking and taking like the parasite you’ve learned he is until all you have left are the clothes you wear and him. He’ll even deprive you of food and water for periods of time, and you can no longer tell if you wish he would shut up for once or if you’re grateful for at least anything to distract you from the constant pain in your empty stomach.

Mikey and Raph landed themselves towards the bottom because I think that they’re both more lenient with punishments (Raph would be afraid of hurting you beyond repair physically OR mentally and Mikey has generally been shown to be very patient and forgiving with people he cares about), but I also think that they might be more exhausting to be stuck with GENERALLY, wearing you down slowly in day-to-day life rather than harsh punishments for breaking whatever rules might be in place for you.

3- Raph.

Raph would try to instill learned helplessness into his darling, to make them understand why he always has to be so careful!

It’ll happen the next morning after a particularly bad argument between you two, and when he’s suddenly letting you handle sharp objects again- but oh no! For some reason you feel so sluggish and dizzy today that you messed up and sliced open your arm. It’s ok- Raph’s here for you! He’ll either patch up your arm himself or take you to Leo, and after it’s taken care of he’ll scold you and say that it’s fine, maybe he’ll give you another chance next week. And he keeps his word- once again, you’re allowed to try your hand at chopping some veggies with him or Mikey- and again, you feel dizzy and accidentally cut yourself.

This will happen many more times- or not, if you give in easily enough- at least until Raph finally decides that he just can’t keep doing this. He brought you to the lair to keep you away from harm, and despite it being to teach you a lesson, he just can’t bear to watch blood drip down your pretty skin.

So instead, he further seals you away- locking you in his room and wrapping one of his hoodies around your head. He’ll keep you like this until you finally learn.

He won’t starve you, at least. He’d hate to watch you waste away after everything, so you’ll be fine physically, but it’ll be hell to not be able to see or properly hear anything. It’ll also be more difficult to breathe properly through the fabric, so I wish you luck with that.

He’s infuriatingly nice throughout the whole thing. Of course he’s angry when you argue with him- when you hurl insults and and completely unfounded whining (yeah right) at him. Sometimes he hurriedly leaves the room so he doesn’t do anything he regrets- but when he comes back- despite your wishes that he wouldn’t- he just wraps that damned hoodie around your skull and chides you for your hostility, leaving you to wonder if this could really be better than death.

You feel insane rambling to his plushies, of which you now know the individual names of, but it’s an admittedly nice bit of company to have when your only other option is Raph. Honestly, you’d rather deal with Ms Cuddles by this point, and she even managed to wring a scream out of Donnie.

At least it’s something you can actually have even an ounce of fun doing that he won’t take away for being “too dangerous”. As long as you can tolerate his absolutely smitten behavior when he finds you talking to them.

Be careful about how loudly you complain, though- it might just land you being completely swaddled in blankets and left to go insane on his bed.

4-  Mikey.

I think that if you were to try and escape from Mikey, he’d conclude that his love simply needs to spend more time with him! Maybe if he shows them how wonderful life is with him, they’ll stop trying to run away!

Unfortunately, I doubt his sleep schedule is very consistent. He keeps you up late at night to try out new spraypaints, recipes, games, anything he can find to do with you will be done. You hardly get the chance to sleep well, and the peace you get in dreams is frequently interrupted.

When he does take a break, he insists on sleeping in the same bed, and it’s much harder to fall asleep with him staring holes into you, as though he were trying to memorize every single detail.

It takes a damn long time to get Mikey to knock it off, too. You have to guess that stubbornness runs in the family, if his brothers are anything to go by. Unfortunately, said brothers’ coddling of their youngest has resulted in quite the persistent guy, and you’re quickly losing the energy to refute him. You wonder how long you’ll need to sleep for the giant spider in the corner of your vision to go away.

When the box turtle finally does realize how much of a toll his shenanigans have taken on poor you, he decides that as the person responsible for you, it’s his job to make sure that you get plenty of rest- and if you refuse, Dr Delicate Touch and Dr Feelings are always here to make sure you’re convinced!

He does a sort of 180- where he once forced you to do everything, he now forces you to do nothing at all, even when your mind screams at you to get up and move. He’ll slip something he stole from the pharmacy into your food and carry your sleeping figure back to his room for your seemingly infinite nap.

In between consciousness, you’ve learned to just stay in bed, maybe draw or write something related to all the adventures you go on in dreamworld.

Fun fact, over sleeping has a couple negative side effects- it increases the risk of diabetes, obesity, headaches, back pain, depression (like you don’t have that already, being kidnapped and all), and heart disease! I wish you the best of luck.

When he finally believes your rest to be sufficient, everything will go back to normal. Except, of course, the lingering paranoia of when it’ll happen all over again will continue to haunt you.

Who knows, maybe he’ll continue drugging you just to keep you a little more complacent. Can’t have you running away all the time, right?

[azriels-shadowsinger]

Hi! Can I please request 1 and 16 for Cassian x reader 🥹

“He treats me well-" "Okay good for you." "-but he isn't you."

Cassian x Reader

wc: 1.3k

a/n: so i couldn’t decide how i wanted to combine those 2 different prompts so i’m just writing 2 separate cassian fics i’m sorry. working on the other one right now, but for now here’s this!

warnings: angst, slight suggestiveness at the end

prompt list

Cassian was sick of it. He was sick of watching you date these undeserving males, fall in love with them, and then get your heart broken. Every single time, you run to him to console you. And every single time, he wipes away your tears and assures you that somewhere out there, there is someone who will love you and treat you right. Little do you know, he’s silently praying to the Mother that one day he can be that person for you. Not so silently, he prays that the stupid prick that broke your heart will drown in the Sidra, which usually earns a laugh from you.

Currently, Cassian was trying to keep the irritated expression off of his face as you told him about your most recent date with some new guy.

“He even paid for dinner! How sweet of him, right Cass?” You ask excitedly.

Bare fucking minimum, Cassian thought.

“That’s great y/n.” The words come out a bit more annoyed than intended, making you frown.

“What’s your problem?” You ask.

“Nothing.” He mutters.

“Bullshit, Cass. Did I do something to piss you off?” You try to think back over the past few hours to remember what you did to upset him, but nothing comes to mind.

“I just don’t really care to hear about yet another male that you think is your one true love, who will inevitably break your heart in a week.” You stare at him, stunned.

“Well, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I wasn’t allowed to talk about my love life to my best friend.” You argue stubbornly. He lets out a laugh.

“I wouldn’t call getting broken up with every other month a love life, sweetheart.” He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth, but it was too late.

“Fuck you, Cassian.” You storm off before he can even apologize.

———

Unsurprisingly, the new guy ended up being a jerk and stood you up the following evening. You had waited at the restaurant for over an hour, earning apologetic looks from the waitress.

Cassian tried to act casual while he sat on the couch at the House of Wind, waiting for you to return from your date. He picked up some random book that Azriel had left and began scanning the pages when you winnowed home. Cassian can’t help but let his eyes roam over you, admiring your stunning figure accentuated by your dress. As soon as his gaze reaches your face, he notices the tears threatening to spill and stands up immediately. He debates walking over to comfort you with a hug or letting you come to him, still unsure if you are mad at him.

“I don’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’ And I know you don’t want to hear about my dating life anymore, so I’m going to bed.” You rush from the room quickly, leaving Cassian alone once again.

Yeah, you’re definitely still mad. Cassian has to fight the urge to follow you. He knows how your brain spirals in these situations, blaming yourself and doubting your self-worth, all because of a stupid male. He wants so badly to go up to your room and console you. He wants to wipe your tears like always and say some idiotic joke to make you laugh. More than anything, he wants to reassure you that this isn’t your fault. But he can’t, so he just sighs and sits back on the couch, picking up the book again.

———

It had been a few weeks since you and Cassian had a proper conversation, both of you too stubborn break the silence first. There had been a few short exchanges, usually just during training or when others were around, but the tension was apparent to everyone.

Cassian had heard from Mor that Feyre set you up with one of her artist friends, Kallum. He can’t be mad at his High Lady for doing what she thinks is best for her friend, but gods he was pissed about it.

You had gone on several dates with him over the past few weeks. He overheard you telling Feyre about them, describing the romantic gesture that Kallum made recently.

Was this it? Would this be the male who finally stole his best friend from him for good? If this male is a friend of Feyre’s, he must be a good guy.

Cassian hurries past the sitting area, not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, but somehow you catch his eye. He can’t help but notice the flicker of sadness in your stare.

———

After four weeks of stubborn silence, you approach Cassian at training.

“Hey.” He turns to you, surprised.

“Uh, hey y/n.” He notices that you’re picking at your nails, a nervous habit from when you were a kid.

“So, I’m bringing Kallum to dinner tomorrow evening. To meet everyone.” You say awkwardly.

Oh.

“I know you and I are still in a weird place, but can you please be nice? I want to make a good impression and see what everyone thinks of him.” You bit your bottom lip nervously.

“Why do you care what we all think of him?” He huffs.

“Because I care what my family and friends think of the person I’m dating.” You counter defensively.

“Do you really? Or do you need us to like him in order to convince yourself you like him too?” You scowl, but Cassian has that stupid cocky smirk on his face. He’s not wrong, which only pisses you off more. You had tried desperately to like Kallum. He’s a nice guy and he seems to like you a lot, but you just couldn’t find a spark between you two.

“He’s a good guy Cassian!” Your face turns red and you are too flustered to come up with a more clever response.

“If you say so.” Cassian rolls his eyes. You sound like you’re trying to convince yourself, not him.

“He is! He treats me well!” You argue.

“Okay, good for you.” He says sarcastically. You stay silent for a long moment. Cassian turns to leave, not wanting to argue any longer.

“He treats me well…but he isn’t you.” You say softly.

Cassian freezes. Surely, he misheard you. He turns back to face you and is faced with the vulnerable expression on your face.

“Seeing as you don’t seem to want to be my friend anymore, there’s no point in hiding it any longer.” He takes a long stride towards you and takes your face in his hands.

“You’re right. I don’t want to be friends anymore.” Cassian presses his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. You melt into his touch and tangle your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck. The kiss quickly turns heated, and you let out a soft moan. Cassian pulls away, and you give him a confused look.

“As much as I want to continue this, sweetheart, I plan to take you to dinner first. I want to show you how you deserve to be treated on a date.” He leans in close, brushing his lips over the shell of your ear. “And then maybe I can show you how you deserve to be treated in bed as well.” Your face turns bright red, and you nod. Cassian lets go of you, but you pull him in for another kiss, this one lasting a bit longer than the last.

“I should probably go break up with Kallum.” You giggle between kisses. Cassian growls at the mention of another male’s name and pulls you closer.

“That is the last breakup you are ever going to have. I’ve waited 500 years for this, I’m sure as hell not going to mess it up.”

Feel free to keep requesting prompts :-)

prompt list

[sepublic]

The Owl House Pilot Leak!!!

            Oh my titan.

            The Owl House’s original pilot episode (basically a bunch of voiced-over storyboards) just got leaked and OMT. Watching it felt like experiencing the original magic of the show all over again… Reminding me what it was like to fall in love the first time!!! The hype and rush, the excitement to type down my thoughts after a new episode, analyzing and gushing over both big and small moments, the details!!! The pilot has reiterated all over to me again why I love these characters, from Luz's powerful earnestness, to Eda's chaotic demeanor! It’s like having the whole show open ahead of me, the possibilities endless when knowing this is just the beginning and we could go anywhere from here!

            What’s interesting is that Luz’s conflict with Camila doesn’t really exist here; In fact Camila isn’t present or mentioned at all! What brings Luz to the isles is Amity, who’s been learning in the human world, under the guise of being a human by disguising her ears! It’s alluded to that Odalia and Alador made her do it, though we don’t know why…

            But WOW that must’ve been so meta, doing S3 with Amity stuck in the human world with Luz, hiding her ears! It must’ve been a fun way to bring back the older concepts in new form! And indeed, we see a couple of stuff we’ve already gotten glimpses of, such as the storyboards of Luz offering her friendship art to Amity! I love that we get to see the actual scenario of how Amity accidentally defended Luz in the first place, since we heard that but didn’t get to see how it turned out.

            It’s interesting that Lumity is basically the inciting incident of the story, though I can see why the final version opted instead to emphasize Luz’s conflict with her mother. Especially with how she chooses to stay in the isles in the final draft, which leads to guilt over lying to her mom, having her ‘coming out’ moment that eventually occurs in Yesterday’s Lie, etc. So more agency when it comes to Luz losing her access to the human world. Plus in the pilot, there isn't the same emphasis on Luz trying to live out her dreams of being a witch, and her obsession with stories that ties back to Manny and forms the basis for a lot of other themes and arcs.

            That said, I also appreciate what this alternate take offers, and how Lumity helps tie everything together, it really is the queerness that is such a foundational part of the ‘weirdness’ theme that the show is about, and it’s intertwined with the pilot! God Luz being heartbroken when Amity dismisses the drawing… And then crying when Eda compliments it without realizing who it’s about! Or maybe she did, she could’ve recognized Luz there and figured out a way to stealthily make Luz feel better…!

            I love Luz routinely lock-picking her locker because she presumably forgot the combination! And it’s interesting that we have a setup of there being multiple dimensions that the Boiling Isles has access to, and not just the human world and Demon Realm. That plays a role in the climax, more on that later. Given we have what is basically an airport for different dimensions, I wonder if we would’ve seen Luz find her way back home much earlier on, under much less intense circumstances, in a S1A episode?

            The ‘Emperor’ is also alluded to in the pilot, which we didn’t get actual mention of until the fifth episode in the final show. He apparently dislikes humans and wants Luz brought over to him, is this still operating off of the ‘Pupa’ version of the character who claimed to speak on behalf of the true ruler, trapped in their metamorphosis by him? So maybe he wasn’t always human, or maybe this is Belos’ hypocritical way of ‘protecting’ humans by keeping them away and in blissful ignorance of the demon realm.

            We also establish Hexside much earlier! IIRC Hexside was always part of the show, but executives pushed for it to have more emphasis, which the crew continued to follow through on in S2 onwards because that had already been set up. Lilith is the principal, and I recognize the storyboards of her, including her bat transformation! We get a Tinella Nosa cameo, we see Amity, and there’s also a brief cameo of Willow too! Nice way to set her up before her proper debut.

            The ‘barrier’ containing King’s crown turns out to just be a regular human locker, which makes me wonder if the writers updated the final draft to make it a force field that only allows humans through, because of the whole Belos twist. Which makes me wonder if in this draft, Belos is Pupa, who never was human, or maybe they realized the opportunity to insert foreshadowing into a big twist regarding the main villain. Makes me wonder if the house we see Amity enter in the pilot, which is on sale, would've had any significance like in the final show. Love how Tinella Nosa is a student at Hexside, and also Dana having to occasionally insert lines for Wendie Malick and others was great.

            Lilith is a lot more openly adversarial, which is different compared to how her actual debut provides a softer side to her; I imagine this would’ve been apparent in a later episode of the ‘Pilot AU’, and her transformation has me curious; Was she originally the one with the curse, but then the writers changed it to Eda? Or did they both have a curse? Eda also has an owl form she can summon and control at Will, maybe all Clawthornes have a beast mode that’s less of a curse and more of a talent. Lilith ends up trapped in another dimension, which makes me wonder if she’d have a temporary replacement –possibly Pilot Bump- or if she’d return offscreen. We see the portal key get destroyed under much more casual circumstances, though it’s less as big of a deal for this and the established ‘dimension port’ we saw before.

            (Also, Amity recognizing Luz in the hallway… Everything to me!!!)

            Warden Wrath doesn’t exist and neither does the Conformatorium, it’s Lilith and Hexside. With her as principal and Amity as student, I wonder if we would’ve gotten more of their relationship in the pilot AU, if Covention was a way of carrying over that former connection since Amity would be a teacher’s pet in either version of the story. And speaking of ties to Covention, it’s interesting is that Eda’s chest gem seems to be linked to the Emperor’s Coven, as ‘Pilot Kikimora’ uses it to control her. Curiously, we have a scene at the end mirroring what we got with Lilith in the final draft of the show!

            I feel it implies that Eda DID join the Emperor’s Coven with Lilith, if only for a brief moment, but then defected; But the chest gem is basically the pilot version of the Emperor’s sigil, except with the explicit function of being a shock collar. I find it interesting that Eda still has the mirror to contact the EC with, instead of just getting rid of the thing. Is she a rogue agent who hasn’t totally cut ties, because she can’t? Won’t?

And the fact that Pilot Kikimora can just shock Eda at will makes me wonder if the Emperor is low-key just letting Eda roam around, which makes me wonder if he’s aware of the familial connection, is using Eda to find Luz, already knows about her doing that because of the time loop, etc. We’d of course have gotten an episode where Luz finds out about Eda’s connection and helps her deal with the gem… I realize now that Luz learning Eda also wanted to join the EC with Lilith is a carryover of this idea.

I can see the ups and downs between both versions; The final draft sets up Luz’s conflict with Camila and the reality camp, which is foundational to her character arc throughout the whole show. Her pain over being ‘sent away’ is just so vital that I appreciate its inclusion in the first episode. But I also like the inclusion of Lumity and the earnest desire to be friends with someone who showed her, unwittingly, any kindness at all! We get explicit bullying from Luz’s peers in the pilot, but in the final draft we also get her thoughtlessness that plays a big part in her S1 arc. And Luz’s arrival in the isles is more intertwined with Eda and King in the final version, which also feels right; The show is about these three in particular!

All in all, this was wonderful to watch! The magic was experienced all over again, not just in watching an episode, but also commentating on one that was just ‘released’ as well? I thought the last time I’d do anything like this was with the series finale Watching and Dreaming… But as Luz said, it really comes full circle with watching the first episode all over again! So maybe we have other stuff to still look forward to after all… At the very least, we have an eternal anticipation with an unexplored universe ahead of us, that will never reach completion; So it's like our ever-lasting final gift from TOH, and a good last one. So until next time: BBBBBYYYYYEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!