#but i thought it was worth putting out there anyway as a nice reminder just in case

[nastyresources]

just a reminder that though we may explore darker and heavier topics, the kink rpc isn't a lawless land where anything goes. please show the same courtesy to kink writers as you would to any other writer. make sure to carefully read rules, respect any and all limits, and extend patience and care when requesting / discussing triggering topics ♡

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

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SUMMARY ↳ Not everybody takes time to appreciate the holidays, it seems. Damian’s brow furrows as he inspects your arm. “You were…” “Awesome?” “Reckless.” pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: nada wc: 3.2k

totally forgot to mention this last chapter, but this fic now has an official playlist!

It takes some convincing from Damian and Jon for them to let you go back to work. Jon says you shouldn’t be back so soon after getting shot. You tell him that your body is fine and ready to go, and also remind him that one of the first things you did when you were better was spar with the whole damn Batfamily. He looks properly sheepish after being chastised.

Damian says that you don’t need the job anymore, since you live with his family now. You tease him, asking if you technically classify as his sugar baby. He scoffs, turning away. It gets him off your case.

Sam damn near jumps over the counter to get to you when they see you walk in. “[Name]!”

At Sam’s shout, Carrie and Garrett pop their heads out from the back. Carrie’s face lights up, smile lines showing as she rushes over to join you and Sam’s hug. Garrett lets one of his rare smiles show, patting your head.

“You shouldn’t be back so soon,” frowns Carrie, pulling back.

You would lift up your shirt to show that you were fine, but she’s right, you shouldn’t be back so soon. A bullet wound on a normal person wouldn’t be completely healed just yet, but, you know, super healing. You’ve been left with a very faint scar. Jon spent his time tracing it, eyes hard and lidded. It gave you goosebumps when his fingers would pass over it.

You wave them off, laughing softly at their concern. "I'm fine, guys, really. It's good to be back."

Sam eyes you skeptically, arms crossed. "You better take it easy, though. We can handle things here."

Carrie nods in agreement, though she's smiling. "Just don't overdo it. We were worried sick about you."

Garrett gives you a nod of approval, his expression serious yet supportive. "Glad to see you're up and about, [Name]. Take care of yourself."

You promise them you will, appreciating their concern and warmth. Sam ushers you behind the counter, immediately putting you to (light) work, much to your amusement.

"So, spill," Sam insists, leaning in conspiratorially. "What happened?”

“What do you mean?” you ask as you organize some sugar packets.

“Dude, Robin and Superboy literally hauled your ass out of here.”

“They just took me to the hospital, Sam,” you sigh. “I got shot, it was pretty urgent.” Shoving a pastry in Sam's mouth, you push past them to ready the coffee makers. “In other news, I moved in with my future rich spouse.” It’s a way to distract them from questioning too much.

Predictably, Sam chokes on the bun. “What!? Hold on, back up a minute, when did you start dating somebody?”

“It was a joke, we’re just friends,” you chuckle. “He’s a huge worrywart and refused to let me go back to my apartment. Could barely walk out of the front door this morning. Said I didn’t even need this job anymore, basically said he’d take care of me.” He didn’t really, but whatever. “Isn’t he sweet?”

“So you’re telling me he basically said you can be the rich trophy partner? Why the hell are you here then?” Sam deadpans.

You match their expression. “Wow. Nice to know I was missed.”

Sam rolls their eyes. “You’re impossible. Who’s the guy anyway?”

“Damian Wayne.”

Sam blinks. Once. Twice. “Can you repeat that? I could’ve sworn you said Damian Wayne. Son of Bruce Wayne. Heir to Wayne Enterprises.”

You huff, placing a hand on your hip as their brain fumbles. “Dude, you bagged the big one. Holy shit, I didn’t know you could pull like that.”

“I told you, we’re just friends.”

“I thought he was, like, stuck up, or something. Cold ice prince type.”

You feel the need to defend Damian’s honor, even if Sam has no true ire towards him. “He’s nice. A good friend. He’s just… awkward.”

Sam takes time to look at you, a brow raised. You hope they're not doing that thing when they just look at you and know all of your secrets. Eventually they hum, dropping it.

“...You think you can ask his dad to pay my tuition–”

Tonight marks your first official patrol with the Batfamily. You're already suited up, crouched on the ledge of a rooftop with Damian. His cape billows in the wind. The city below is alive with lights and sounds, a symphony of Gotham’s nighttime pulse. You adjust your stance, feeling the adrenaline start to course through your veins. Damian is focused, his eyes scanning the streets for any sign of trouble.

"Keep your eyes sharp," Damian says, his voice a low murmur. "Gotham's quiet tonight, but that can change in an instant."

You nod, your own senses heightened, every sound amplified in the quiet of the rooftop. The tension in the air is palpable, a reminder of the city's ever-present dangers.

Damian glances at you, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "You ready for this?"

“Been ready, are you?” you challenge with a smile.

Suddenly, a voice speaks into your ear. It's Barbara. "We've got a situation near downtown. Reports of a robbery in progress."

Damian tenses, his eyes narrowing. "Let's move."

You both leap from the rooftop, descending into the city's shadows. The thrill of the chase ignites your senses as you navigate the rooftops with practiced ease. Damian is a blur of motion beside you, his movements precise and controlled.

Your arm muscles tense and release with every web swing. You take time to twirl and flip around Damian in an elegant dance as he swings with his grappling hook. The two of you move around each other in synchronized harmony.

As you near the location of the robbery, you spot the scene from above. A group of masked men are trying to break into a high-end jewelry store. The glass is shattered, and the alarm is blaring. Damian signals for you to flank them from opposite sides.

You land silently behind a dumpster, observing the thieves as they hurriedly shove jewelry into bags. Damian moves in from the other side, his presence a shadow in the night. You wait for his signal, your muscles coiled like springs.

With a sharp nod from Damian, you spring into action. You leap out, webbing one of the thugs to the ground before he even realizes what’s happening. Damian disarms another with a swift kick, his movements fluid and efficient.

The remaining thieves scramble, but they're no match for the two of you. You dart between them, your webbing and acrobatics keeping them off balance. Damian is a blur of motion, his strikes precise and powerful. Within moments, the robbers are subdued, webbed up and disarmed.

Damian steps back, catching his breath. "Nice work," he says, his tone grudgingly approving.

"Were you practicing those moves to impress me?” you ask cheekily.

“Why, were you watching me?”

“I just can’t take my eyes off of you,” you sigh dramatically.”

“Stop flirting, losers,” Stephanie teases on the comms.

Just as you're about to talk back, a low rumble echoes through the alley. The ground shakes slightly, and you exchange a wary glance with Damian. A nearby manhole cover bursts open, and a hulking figure emerges from the sewers. It's Killer Croc, his massive form towering over you both. What the hell.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Croc growls, his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.

You throw up your hands. “Come on man, I wanted an easy night.”

Croc advances with heavy footsteps, his massive claws glinting in the dim light. Guess he’s not in the mood for chit-chat. Croc chuckles, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "Think you can stop me, little bats?" His voice reverberates through the space, filling the space with menace.

“I am not a bat,” you mutter. “Only in spirit I guess." Killer Croc has a similar demeanor to that of Rhino, at least in terms of size. You’ve dealt with more than enough of them to be well equipped to deal with this situation.

You exchange a quick nod with Damian, silently communicating your plan. "Let's do this," he says, his voice low but determined.

Without hesitation, you both spring into action. Damian charges forward, engaging Croc head-on with a series of lightning-fast strikes and evasive maneuvers. Meanwhile, you use your agility and webs to dart around Croc, aiming to distract and disorient him.

Croc swings a massive fist, aiming for Damian, who narrowly dodges and counters with a precise kick to the knee. You take advantage of the opening, firing webbing at Croc's arms, aiming to restrict his movements. The webs hold momentarily before Croc tears through them with brute force. Boo.

"Keep him distracted!" Damian calls out, his voice cutting through the chaos.

You nod, focusing on keeping Croc off balance while Damian assesses the situation. With each move, you gauge Croc's reactions, looking for vulnerabilities to exploit. His strength is immense, and you start to hope this won’t take long. You’d like to get a decent rest tonight.

Damian maneuvers around Croc, striking with calculated precision. His training and experience shine through as he lands blows with pinpoint accuracy, each one aimed at weakening Croc's defenses. You watch in awe, both of Damian's skill and the sheer determination in his eyes.

As the fight wears on, Croc becomes more aggressive, his attacks growing wilder and more unpredictable. You dart in and out, using the environment to your advantage, hoping to find an opening. It's a dangerous dance, the alley echoing with the sounds of combat and the occasional growl from Croc.

Croc is getting overwhelmed, which means he’ll get desperate. His eyes keep darting to the window. He’s gonna try to escape, shit.

He shoves Damian to the side with his arm. For a split second, you want to make sure he’s alright, but you know he is. Trust that he is. You seize an opportunity to leap onto Croc's back as he charges out of the alley and onto the street. The sudden movement sends pedestrians scattering, and cars screech to a halt to avoid the monstrous figure rampaging through the city. You wrap his shoulders, providing you some extra distance from him as he tries to reach for you. He bucks and twists as he runs, trying to shake you off.

Croc flips up cars as he runs. Your claws dig into his shoulders as you steer him out of people's way the best you can, while simultaneously trying not to get thrown off. People scream and flee as cars swerve to avoid the chaos. With each passing moment, your muscles strain under the weight and movement of the monstrous villain.

“Should you be on vacation or something? It’s the holidays! Take a day off, Christ,” you grumble.

Croc chuckles dangerously. “Hang on tight, not-bat.”

It’s your only warning (aside from your senses screaming at you to get out of the way. Too bad you can’t) as Croc makes a superhuman leap, crashing straight through a window of Gotham Mall. Your suit protects you from the glass as it crashes down around you. Shoppers scream and scatter as the massive creature barrels through the aisles, sending displays and merchandise flying.

“Do you have any non-destructive hobbies?” you huff, dodging his grabby hands. Croc cuts a corner narrowly, slamming you slightly into a wall.

“Swimming. In the sewers.”

“Well, of course, where else?” Oh shit, there’s a baby in the way! You throw a web from each wrist, pulling yourself over to the stroller. You pick it up and narrowly move it out of Killer Croc’s way, putting it down next to the mother and quickly webbing yourself back onto Croc.

“Thank you!” the mother cries.

“You’re welcome!” is all you can say before your web pulls you back onto Croc. You curl your hand into a tight fist and hit him right in his head as you return. Croc staggers from the force of your punch, shaking his head as he attempts to regain his bearings. His momentum slows, giving you a moment to catch your breath.

“Spinnerette, report,” Bruce asserts in your ear.

“Uh, Killer Croc’s rampaging in Gotham Mall. Trying to minimize the damage,” you breathe, dodging another swipe from Croc. 

The noise of glass shattering and displays being knocked over is deafening. You hear Damian's voice cut through the chaos over the comms, “I’m en route. Hang tight.”

You cling tighter to Croc, using your agility to stay out of his reach as he wreaks havoc through the mall. “Yeah, hanging tight is kind of the plan,” you mutter, half to yourself.

You web his face, causing him to growl in frustration. Croc has a thick hide as protection, so your fangs won’t be able to pierce him. Your venom is useless here, which sucks because it would’ve been really nice to have in this situation.

Okay, you’re on the third floor of the mall, since the bastard jumped real high. How can you trap him? His advantage is his strength, so you need to restrain him so that he can’t use it. The whirring of a grappling hook catches your attention. Looking behind you, you see Damian swinging over to you, surprisingly gaining speed.

You spray a web towards him, catching him by the chest. Damian grips it as you pull him towards you. He lands with ease on top of Croc’s back. Croc's roar of frustration reverberates through the mall as Damian joins you.

“Fancy seeing you here,” you quip.

"Thought you could use a hand," Damian replies, his eyes never leaving Croc.

You grab his hands and wrap them around the makeshift web reins you had attached to Croc. “She–” you tap the ring you gifted him you know is under his glove, “–will tell you what to do. Don’t let him hurt anybody.”

Damian tries to catch your hand as you swing away, but you’re too quick for him. You gain speed, swinging ahead and away from Croc. “Tell me where a big glass window I can crash through is, K.”

“Take a left here.”

You swerve to the left. You can hear the commotion behind you as Croc thrashes and roars, but you focus on finding an exit point.

“Straight ahead.”

There. A large window overlooking the city. You see other buildings sparking with lights. Bracing yourself, you send yourself hurling into it. The glass shatters as you crash through it, arms out in front of you to protect yourself. Screams of people fade away behind you as you fall into the air. You’re lucky, there’s an intersection below you.

You swing onto a nearby lightpost. “I need the biggest and stickiest web you got, K.” You launch off and aim your hands in the middle of the intersection.

“Certainly, but it won’t be big enough for Killer Croc,” she says as a good and proper spider web slinks out and attaches to nearby light posts and buildings. The spiral pattern doesn’t extend to the radius of the web. “You’ll need to spin the rest of the web yourself.”

Bouncing off the center of the web, you start spinning the web across the intersection. The web begins to take shape, forming a large, intricate net that spans the entire intersection. Civilians look up in awe at your work. 

“Spinner!”

You look over as you hop across the web to see Nightwing grappling over. “Get the civvies out of here!”

He pauses, then nods. He swings down, quickly directing people away from the intersection to safety. He enforces power into his words, arms gesturing for them to go.

“Robin and Killer Croc are approaching.”

Using the web as momentum, you launch yourself and spray a web onto the ledge from which you jumped off. Climbing up, you stare down the large hallway of the mall. Croc is running straight towards you. He hasn’t thrown Damian off yet, so that’s good.

“Come on! I’m right here!”

“What are you doing–” hisses Damian in the comms.

Killer Croc growls, charging at you. His steps are thundering, echoing in the mall.

You brace yourself, waiting for the right moment. Croc lunges forward with a roar, his massive form barreling towards you. You time your move perfectly, leaping to the side just as Croc lunges out of the window space. You grip Damian’s cape, tugging him off of Croc as he begins to fall. The web bounces up and down as he lands in the center, trapped.

You pat Damian’s shoulder before jumping off the ledge after him. More webs spray from your wrist as you restrain Crocs arms to the web. You ignore his curses and yells as you struggles against your trap. It’s no use, the web holds firm.

“Holy cow,” whistles Dick, walking over. He reaches out to poke the web, but you snatch his hand away.

“Do that and we’d have to amputate you. It’s really sticky,” you frown solemnly. You’re joking of course.

Dick pulls his hand away, holding both of them up and a surrender gesture. “Okay, okay, I won't touch it,” Dick says with a grin, clearly amused. He looks around at the chaos in the mall, where people are cautiously peeking out from hiding places or rushing to leave.

“You know, you’ve certainly made a mess,” he comments, gesturing to the shattered glass and displaced merchandise around you.

“Actually, I think I’ve done worse.”

“Guess you’re fitting right in,” Dick remarks, his tone light but approving.

“Have I earned my rite of passage?” you smirk.

“Maybe if you can survive a month without causing a city-wide panic,” he teases, flashing you a grin.

Damian lands gracefully behind you, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. He surveys the scene with a critical eye, his expression serious and focused. You can tell he eyes Croc’s trapped form before he hurries over to you.

You hear the sirens of Gotham’s police force wail closer. “Always late to the party, it seems,” you hum, pursing your lips. You groan and flex your shoulder, still tingling from your little wall slam earlier.

“I’ll take it from here,” Dick reassures as the cop cars come to a stop near the scene. “You crazy kids go.”

Damian seems to have no qualms about that, since he grabs your hand and tugs you away. You let him drag you around, swinging with him as he grapples away. You swing through the night with Damian, adrenaline still coursing through your veins.

Coming to a stop on a rooftop, Damian’s hand runs down your arm, squeezing gently. “Are you hurt?” he asks gently.

“A little bruised, but I’ll be okay.” Your arm tingles under his touch. You chalk it off as pain.

Damian’s brow furrows as he inspects your arm. “You were…”

“Awesome?”

“Reckless.”

You catch his hand in yours, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “I knew what I was doing, birdie.” He sighs, a mixture of relief and frustration evident in his voice. “I know, I know,” you reply softly, bringing his hand to your lips and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “But I’m here, and I’m fine.”

He meets your gaze, a small smile tugging at his lips. “You handled yourself well back there.” The moment lingers between you, the adrenaline of the night’s events slowly fading into a quiet calm. Damian’s thumb strokes over your hand, a silent gesture of reassurance and gratitude.

Damian holds your hand tight as he guides you home.

The next day, Spinnerette is trending.

notes: short chapter because its really just a filler but next one is gonna pop off i PROMISe

also, i hope i captured killer croc correctly? have literally never watched or read anything with him in it so im SO sorry if he is nothing like how he is supposed to be

also i straight up yoinked this scene from Spider-Man: Miles Morales, just replaced rhino with croc.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for 🦄 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Like–they didn’t read to you or let you watch movies and stuff, you mean?” Billy asks with a frown. “Just put the whole things in your head at once?” 

That sounds disorienting, and also kinda mean and lazy on Cadmus’s part. But maybe it wasn’t as bad as it– 

Lynn looks down at Tawky; flips his ear back and forth again and rubs the pad of his thumb across the inside of it. 

Billy . . . frowns, again. 

“No,” Lynn says to Tawky’s ear, as opposed to actually either of them. “I mean they didn’t tell me stories at all.” 

. . . wow, yeah. Billy is definitely committing fifty-two floors’ worth of arson. 

“Oh, okay,” he says, making a few mental notes for himself about, again, arson. Like, just the whole process and everything. “Well, they suck, then. We’ll just have to get you some different types to try, I guess. Like with the food and all, you know? It’s a library, anyway, it’s not like it costs money to borrow stuff or anything.” 

“It’s just stories,” Lynn says to Tawky’s ear, not lifting his eyes at all. “They’re not–important. To . . . I don’t need things like that.” 

“Why do you think that?” Billy asks with a frown, though his inner arsonist is already pretty sure it’s Cadmus's fault. Pretty much positive, in fact. 

Pretty definitely positive. 

Lynn shrugs. Rubs the inside of Tawky’s ear. It’s really soft, Billy knows; Tawky’s fur always feels nice to touch. He wonders, actually, how much stuff Lynn even has touched so far. 

He wonders, again, if anybody’s ever hugged him before. 

He really hates the thought that maybe no one has. He really hates . . . 

He just really hates that that’s even a thing that might be a thing at all. 

“Weapons don't need to know stories,” Lynn says. “They just need to do as they're told.” 

. . . in retrospect, arson might be half-assing what Billy should do to Cadmus. 

“This isn't so you can be a weapon,” he reminds Lynn carefully, resisting the urge to clench his fists in his lap. “Remember?” 

“‘This’,” Lynn echoes. He still doesn't look up. 

“I'm taking care of you,” Billy says. 

“Maintaining me,” Lynn says very, very quietly. “Containing me.” 

“I really hate that somebody made you think that's what that means,” Billy says tightly. Lynn ducks his head lower and looks towards the wall. 

He doesn't say anything back. Billy bites his tongue, trying to figure out what he should–do, or say, or . . . 

The truth, obviously, but how to say it's a lot harder. 

“This isn't, like–a containment thing. That's not why I'm taking care of you,” he tries, because it's the best place to start he can think of. The wisdom of Solomon covers a lot of knowledge, but not necessarily always how to apply that knowledge. “Like, we wanna know where you are so we know you're safe, or at least know you've got your phone just in case, and the curfew thing is–like, normal kids get curfews. So people know where they are, and that they're not in trouble or anything. And like–so people know when to get help for them, if they might be in trouble.” 

Lynn doesn't say anything, still. Billy's not sure if that means he's just thinking, or if it means he hasn't said the right thing yet. 

He really hopes it's the thinking thing, but . . . 

“Honestly the other idea was putting you up in Mount Justice,” he admits. “But it doesn't have any windows or anything, and I don't even know if anyone else was gonna be there most of the time, and–”

“Windows?” Lynn . . . frowns, his eyes flicking back to him. 

“Um, yeah,” Billy says. Lynn stares blankly at him for a moment, then slants his eyes towards the apartment windows and–hesitates, a little. 

“. . . you mean there's no sun,” he realizes slowly.

[starmapz]

you know, i wasn't going to make a post about this so as not to give this anon the satisfaction of a response, but they've been blocked so they won't see this anyway and i think there's a bigger issue to address here.

i want to start by saying that i've got thick skin and this doesn't affect me in the way they clearly would like it to. it says much more about them than it does about me and i've got bigger fish to fry than some insecure anon.

what i DO want to address is the fact that i've seen more and more posts popping up lately about how some people need to be nicer to authors and while this applies not just to authors but to everyone, i do feel it's worth mentioning that in all honesty i'm glad this came to me and not someone who may be put down by a message like this. i know the anon button tends to make some people much more bold but if at any point you ever think of sending anon hate to someone, maybe take a moment to consider how foolish of a notion that is.

on the topic of authors in particular, please bear in mind that we do this for free, in our spare time. i work a full time job, this is just a fun hobby for me. imagine if you shared your hobby with the world and someone anonymously told you it was bad, how would that make you feel? i'm quite fortunate that this sort of thing doesn't get to me but that doesn't make it any nicer of a message.

on a much lighter and somewhat unrelated note, i also received a very nice text from a wrong number around the same time as i read this message, so i think they cancel one another out lmao. just thought that was funny.

anyway, sorry for the much more serious post than my usual content, but please, as a reminder, be nice to authors, and for that matter be nice to everyone. you never know what someone else is going through, and even if you do, it's no excuse to be hateful or rude.

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | EX-bfs dad!Eddie Munson x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Word Count: 12.8k

Big big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing for me I appreciate it, bestie

Another big thank you to @bebe07011 for spitting ideas and giving feedback.

Warnings: Degradation/praise, eating out, public sex, daddy kink, and several scenes where smut is mentioned but not described. There is about 1k of words just from Dylan's perspective but its worth it trust me.

Eddie is a bit of a sugar daddy in this part, but its ok cause we all want him to spoil us anyway.

Author's note: Some of y'all are gonna make me cry with how kind you are with your words for this fic. I cannot believe how much this story has truly taken over my life. People have expressed sharing it with friends and I just cannot get over that. Thank you.

-

Your hands held a home-made cocktail on ice while The Princess Diaries played on the tv, a soft blanket covered your crossed legs as you sat with both Sky and Bethany in your living room, scattered along your couch.

Bethany often snuck a joint or two while she visited, the window staying open to minimize a smell with a 20-dollar fan in front of it to promote air circulation. It was nice to have a girls’ night, to order bags of chips and candy over SkiptheDishes, wear face masks, do your makeup for the hell of it, and just let loose.

Bethany made her way over about a movie and a half ago, and she was now explaining a stupid mishap from her office administrative position that quite literally pulled the company to a halt for 45 minutes. “I swear, you could not pay me enough to put up with those drivers.” She claims, taking an inhale from the joint in her two painted fingers.

Sky makes a sudden movement in her seat, reaching to the remote next to her to pause the movie. “Holy shit. Did I tell you I saw Eddie?” Her question is directed across you to Bethany, and you’re left wondering why the hell your boyfriend is the new topic of discussion.

“Wait, what?” Bethany asks, wide green eyes moving back and forth between you and Sky. “When and where?”

“Our date?” You interject her, a little weirded out by the turn this conversation has taken. “When Eddie picked me up, she was here.”

“Oh, I see.” She hums to herself. “Well, since she won’t show us a photo, please tell me what the man who’s old enough to be her father looks like.”

You roll your eyes at this, a cheeky thought occurring to you. “Well Dylan might be great; but he is a sequel. Ain’t nothing compared to the original.”

Sky nods, agreeing. “Eddie is… very good looking.” You shoot her a warning look, for some reason, her just alluding to his good looks makes you feel territorial. “Show her a picture if you don’t want to hear it, damn! Just telling the truth…”

“It’s not that I won’t show you guys,” you explain, unlocking your phone. “It’s that he doesn’t use social media, so he has no good photos of himself.” On the internet, at least.

“What, no throw back photos from Dylan’s insta?” Sky asks, mostly joking.

You go to Dylan’s insta, and you can’t view it. Fuck, you forgot. He blocked you. Even though he seems to be on better terms with you, simple reminders like being blocked from his social media or him refusing to tell any details about his life remind you he’s still nursing a healing wound. “Still blocked.” You look up, and their faces tell you they’re not letting up on it. “Fine. I’ll go to Eddie’s Facebook.”

Eddie added you as a friend the day after your date, adorably waiting as you went on your phone to accept it. The moment you did he went onto your profile and dove into your photos. His eyes were comically wide as he scrolled through them, and after the first few swipes he lifted his head to you. “You just put these on here? Fuck.” The photos weren’t even particularly bad, just you in a bikini on the beach or in a summer dress, he’s just that obsessed with you. You asked him if he minded and he shook his head comically, his dimples so prominent from his wide smile, he looked manic. “Oh, I never said to stop, sweetheart.”

Your thumb slides into Eddie’s profile, and while you were afraid of the calls from a judgemental relative about the relationship with him the word single on his relationship status still hits you hard in the chest. You move to his photos, past the useless profile picture that was his company logo of Munson’s Garage and swipe through the regular posts, past Dylan’s graduation from college, from high school, a picture of a nice car, an old one of his ex with Dylan, (barf), until you finally got through to a throwback, one posted in 2011.

It was taken in the 90s, so a picture of a picture of him sitting at an old kitchen table arm in arm with another dude. One of his feet was up on the table, and he was clutching a beer, lifting it to the camera. His friend was talking to someone off camera, distracted for the moment, his slightly freckled face in a scowl. His friend had brown hair down to his neck styled specifically in a swoop, and they seemed about the same age.

His friend was quite attractive, but younger Eddie made you fucking drool. God, he was so gorgeous. He wore a leather jacket under a denim vest, ripped blue jeans over his big black boots. Fuck. You almost didn’t want to share this photo.

You go to the next photo, and a giggle leaves your mouth as you see him posing with a friend, tongues out and devil horns on their heads as smiles peek through. The background is a stage at an Iron Maiden concert, and they both look ecstatic. It’s a different friend in this one with curly hair, but it looked like he had posted from the Iron Maiden concert. A few more scrolls told you that the throwback photo would be the best option.

“Ok.” You finally say, and both girls have been waiting so long at this point they’ve started scrolling on their own phones. “Guys. You wanna see it or not?”

You hand your phone to Bethany, indicating he was the one on the right. The possessiveness that hits you when you see her reaction, her wide eyes and jaw literally dropping, stunted you. “Holy shit. This is him from how long ago?”

“In the late 90s, I guess.” You tell her.

She hands the phone to Sky, who was asking for it repeatedly as soon as Bethany let out her reaction. “Oh, yeah. He was a cutie. Honestly, he’s hotter now.” Your teeth grit, and you take a deep breath in to calm yourself.

“How?” Bethany asks, gesturing to your phone.

“Ok. Enough. He’s very good looking. But he’s fucking taken.” You bark out, holding your hand out for the phone.

They both stop talking, your sudden anger very uncharacteristic of you. Usually when you find someone particularly good looking, you’d show them off, agreeing with your two friends when they would praise their good looks. This wasn’t anything like those times. Hearing their praises just makes you want to sink your teeth into Eddie’s neck and mark your territory the next time you see him.

“Woah, girl.” Sky says, laughing lightly to diffuse the tension. “Never seen that side of you before.”

“Well, I didn’t even know she existed until a waitress looked at Eddie on our date and I wanted to throttle her,” You admit, grabbing the nearly empty cocktail and taking a sip. “I just…I don’t know why I’m so territorial over him, but God, the thought of him with someone else makes me sick to my stomach.”

Bethany holds her hands up in surrender, “Alright, we won’t compliment him anymore. But you did good, girl. You did mighty good.”

-

As per usual, the girls'-day-in resulted in the three of you falling asleep in the living room, blankets and pillows scattered across the three of you. The sun cascading through a window by the couch wakes you up, disgruntled, as you pat around for your phone. The screen greets you harshly, your notifications indicating you have three messages from Eddie, two from a manager at work, and the several random ones, which you clear out, not caring about Instagram stories for the moment. Eddie texted to say he was going into work for a few hours. The next two messages indicated if you were there when he got home, he wouldn’t be against it.

Basically, he just told you to please be there when he got home. Fuck, the feeling of him reaching out first was enough to send a wide smile to your face, staring stupidly at your phone. You message him back, letting him know you’ll be there.

The messages from your manager were one from two hours ago, asking if you’d be able to come in for 10 o’clock– Which was thirty-five minutes ago– and the second asked if you were able to come in at all. You quirk your eyebrow, glad your read receipts are off for her, because you’re planning now to text at 3 o'clock to let her know that, oops, you just saw this. No, you’re not going in on your day off, you’ll be spending it with your ridiculously hot boyfriend.

You leap from your couch, running into your room to pack another overnight bag. You’re out the door before the others even stir.

As you pull into Eddie’s driveway, you notice Dylan’s truck there, but Eddie’s is still gone. You wonder when he’ll be back, because although Dylan is civil towards you, interactions with him are still stunted. You open the front door, grateful Dylan tended to leave it unlocked. You drop your overnight bag and pillow off at the staircase, its usual spot, before you trot off to the living room where Dylan sits watching tv.

As you plop down next to him on the other side of the couch, Dylan looks to you, startled by the movement, but his eyes roll in exasperation when he realizes that it’s you. “Hi.” You sing-song to him, knowing you’re annoying him, but having fun with it anyways.

“Hey.” He deadpans, watching the tv instead of looking over to you.

“Oh, wow you’re almost caught up.” You say, indicating to a show that you had recommended he watched a while back.

“Turned out to be a good show.” He comments, sounding annoyed.

“Well, how about that?” You retort, and Dylan rolls his eyes before a small smile lands on his face.

Progress.

Less than an hour later, the front door closes, indicating Eddie’s homecoming. He walks in, and as you pay attention to a particularly good episode in this series, you hear a big stretch come from him. “Hi, Ed!” You call out, finally turning towards him.

Fuck. Holy shit.

A few grease stains paint Eddie’s hands and chin, and he’s wearing a pair of blue coveralls from work with a patch on his chest of his name. The grease monkey suit shows off his muscles beautifully, both sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair is tied back into a messy bun, and you’re sure he forgot about the reading glasses on his head. Oh god, he is mouth watering.

A throw pillow hits your face, completely startling you. You whip your head around, glaring at  the culprit. “Little drool.” Dylan mouths, pointing to his chin.

“Oh, little drool?” You mock, getting up to hit him with the pillow hard. He chuckles, fighting you off.

You push his shoulder off, shuffling into the kitchen. You turn to see Eddie moving around the kitchen, making himself a quick sandwich. “Hi baby!” You greet him, reaching out for him.

“Oh, hi baby.” He says, following up with an air kiss. He breaks into laughter at your scowl. “Sorry, you don’t want this grease on you. It smells terrible and it’s not fun to wash off.”

“But there’s no grease on your lips.” You point out, staring at those pretty pink lips of his.

“Baby, I cannot kiss you without touching you and there is grease all over my hands.” He chuckles, holding them out.

You want to point out that he’s getting things dirty with grease in the kitchen, including his sandwich, by his own logic, but you have a feeling you won’t get away with it very easily. “Fine. Come see me when you’ve had a shower then.” You tell him, attempting to waddle back to the living room.

“Ah, ah.” Eddie tuts, grabbing your hand. “Come with me, after I shower, I need time with you in my bed.”

“In your bed? Or, in your bed?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing suggestively at the second option.

“If you didn’t know the answer by now, clearly I haven’t done my job right.” He says in a lowly, his eyes darkening in an instant.

Eddie turns around to the sandwich he made as if he hadn’t said a word, grabbing it quickly before tugging on your hand to take you up the stairs.

He hops into the shower, you scroll through your phone on his bed as you wait, somewhat impatiently, your panties already uncomfortable from his stroll into the house in his work uniform.

Fuck, he was hot. You thought about him. His muscles, the slight glisten of sweat, and your phone was tossed aside before you even realized your hands were roaming over your body. You close your eyes, the image of him busy at work on his back on one of those…rolly things in your head. His forearms flexing, the look of concentration on his face.

Your hands itch for your center and you can barely hold back anymore, thankful you opted for a pair of stretchy shorts. Your fingers graze your center easily, rolling around in small circles as you picture the easy access his coveralls would give you, showing up with a dress and no panties and just riding him in his office. Fuck, maybe you wouldn’t even make it there. Goddamn, the images were too hot, your panties finding their way around your ankles as you grind up against your own fingers.

“Fuck.”

Your eyes fling open to see your boyfriend in his towel. You were so wrapped up you didn’t even notice the water from his shower turn off. He’s staring, open mouthed and eyes dark, and Jesus… This was a fantasy of yours from the beginning. You continue, staring half lidded back at him, hand grabbing up at his bed frame when it started to feel so fucking good.

Eddie’s towel drops when his brain catches up, jumping into his bed to lay next to you. “Couldn’t even wait, huh?” He asks, and you let out a whimper as he lightly kisses your neck. “Just couldn’t fucking wait.”

“You were so hot—” you gasp out, moving faster on yourself now. “—in that goddamn uniform. Wanna…wanna ride you in it.”

The very indication that you were playing with yourself because you found him that hot in his uniform is too much for Eddie to process. He nearly moans, leaning for another kiss on your neck. His hands are itching to help you, itching to take off the rest of those clothes that hide your gorgeous body, but he holds back, needing to know more about it. “What—what were you thinkin’ ‘bout, baby?”

“You, in the uniform…” you tell him, your hips starting to move when your want grows. Why isn’t he helping?

“C’mon, baby. I wanna touch you but I just gotta know.” Eddie tells you, his voice gruff.

A gulp moves through your throat before opening your mouth to tell him. “Your dick out of the uniform, and me with no panties and a dress at your shop, riding you anywhere…your office, the rolly thing, god, just you in that uniform…Ed…”

Goddammit, was that an idea Eddie certainly had before. He has wanted to show you around his workplace, but also christen it with you, and he had had the exact idea with his uniform and you in a dress, to boot. “Fuck, my horny, eager little slut, hey?” Eddie asks, watching your closed eyes as you continue to work yourself.

“Please…please touch me?” You ask him, the torture of his voice there but not actually helping you is too much. “Want…want you.”

“Hmm. Horny little slut didn’t wait for me…I dunno if she even deserves my help.” He bluffs, wanting nothing more than to reach out and feel the slick of your wet pussy.

You nearly cry out in protest, not calling him on his bluff. “I’m sorry, couldn’t help myself…you’re just so…fuck…you’re so fucking hot, Ed.”

He leans in to kiss you and you accept it gratefully, a smile against his lips. As his lips move against yours, deepening the kiss to easily work his tongue against yours, his hands land on yours against your pussy delicately, gently pulling your fingers to the side. He slides a digit in and you whimper into his mouth, your hips thrusting up. “Oh, so fucking desperate.” You nod your head, agreeing with him. You’re desperate for more. Even with Eddie on your mind, your fingers never even compared to his.

He leans into your neck, the scent of his aftershave and body wash strong but oh-so-goddamn good. He slides your shirt up your torso smoothly with his free hand and pulls it from your neck fiercely. You feel his hand somewhat desperately go around your back to unhook your bra, and as it falls casually over the edge onto the floor, he moans at the sight of your exposed tit, your nipple just begging to be touched.

He leans in to mouth the bud, and you whimper at the sensation. He pauses, breathing heavily and open mouthed onto it. You gasp, his hot breath sending waves down your body. “Fuck, so pretty.” Eddie mutters to himself, dark eyes watching your face as you get closer.

A desperate hand of yours tugs him up to your face, desperate for more of his wet and hypnotizing kisses. “Fuck me.” You gasp, suddenly feeling that his fingers weren’t enough. “Need…need your cock. Please.”

Eddie’s mouth opens at the prospect of you simply begging for him, and you can feel a shift in his energy as he starts to kiss you deeper and hungrier. “When you beg so sweetly, how could I possibly say no?” He hums, his hand framing your face.

He finishes yanking the last of your pants off your ankles. As he settles himself in between your legs, he can’t help himself. He leans down, taking one long lick along your folds, for just a taste. You whimper in response, knees springing up to your chest. Eddie chuckles, crawling up slowly until his chest lines up with yours, the tingle of him against you too much to handle. Slowly, he moves into you, and as he stretches you open, your eyes roll back and your toes curl. Eddie watches the utter bliss that takes over your face.

“Oh that beautiful face you make, sweetheart.” He grunts, smoothing his hands over your forehead. His words make you pulse around him. “This fucking tight little pussy wrapped around—” he stops, grunting as you continue to pulse around him. One hand moves down to your hip, caressing it softly he uses the leverage to buck into you.

A hushed swear comes out of you, the simple pleasure from his cock alone sending you into euphoria. Eddie continues slowly, enjoying every inch of your heat around him. “Your pussy…god how did I live without it?”

You clutch onto him, staring up into his darkened brown eyes. You open your mouth to respond in kind, but the particularly harsh rut into you leaves your mouth gasping open and your eyes fluttering shut in pure heaven. “Oh, that’s it.” He mutters, hips moving faster. “That’s my cock-drunk little whore.”

Your nails scratch down his back, and he moans in response. “Eddie, your cock. There’s…I…please.”

“I-I know, baby. I know.”

He collapses onto your chest, and you feel his cock twitch into you as your orgasm takes over your body. His hand carefully sweeps your sweaty forehead as he watches you recover, your eyes losing their haze as you return to earth. “Hi.” He mutters, leaning in to kiss you softly.

“Hi.” You smile. For once, he does take his dick out of you right away, despite your protests. However, you can’t protest any further when he comes back and wraps his arms around you with his chest pressed against your back, his still steadying breaths lulling you into a quiet nap.

Somehow, you know that his arms are always going to be the best place in the world.

-

About an hour later, you’re snuggled against his side, legs intertwined as Eddie watches his show and you work on a crossword puzzle. “What’s a six-letter word for angry?” You ask him, stumped for a good minute.

“Uh…grumpy? Heated? Hmm…raging?”

“Raging! Fuck, I couldn’t get that one. Thanks, baby.” You tell him, receiving a kiss on the head as a response. “Why’d you go in for work, Ed?”

“Other than making my baby horny?” He jokes, muttering it into your hair. “Well, one of my best-known clients called and my men know that when he calls, they need to call me in, because his car is just—” he cuts himself off, holding out the OK sign. He continues talking about the mechanics/politics of handling a car like this in his job. The caliber, the horsepower, the specialized engine, and everything else.

It’s not like you know a whole lot about cars. Most of what he is saying comes out as gibberish. But you listen to him, watching as he gets more and more animated, his hands gesturing wildly as he excitedly explains his morning. You watch him, a soft smile creeping up your face as he describes…what, you weren’t even sure, to you.

He stops as he notices the peculiar look on your face, your eyes glazed over. “What?” he asks, wondering if you caught even a word of his story.

“I love you.” It comes out before you even realize. But it’s true.

With your whole chest, you love him.

Eddie inhales sharply, and he looks at you like you had placed each star in the sky just for him. Because you did. “I-I’ve been wanting to say that to you since I first saw you.”

His words feel both impossible and like they make the most sense in the entire world. Because since day one, you have been captivated by him in every sense imaginable. Taking the time to get to know, see and love every inch of him before recognizing that yes, this is love.

This all occurs to you within a second, because Eddie’s hand is framing your face and you feel his lips on yours, deep and caring to a point that takes your goddamn breath away. Your tongue collides with his, and his fingers are so gentle as they cradle your face it barely feels like he’s holding it. He tastes so good, like the air you breathe is suddenly useless, and all you need to do is breathe him. His fingers intertwine in your hair, he gasps as his forehead collides with your own, clinging onto you for dear life.

“Will you say it?” You ask, realizing he still hasn’t.

“I fucking love you.” He says in a low, soft voice. He uses a hand to force you back and you open your eyes to look into his beautiful brown ones. “I love you.”

Your chest inflates rapidly, like all the emotion just bursts into it. A giggle escapes your lips, the smile on your face seeming to be permanently etched there. He tugs you into the tightest hug, and you feel his heart beat rapidly against your own as your arms fling themselves around his torso, burying your head in his neck.

God, it’s like you fit perfectly there.

He slouches down, ignoring the book you dropped and the forgotten tv show, and lays you down, chest to chest, his arms wrapped around you as you curl into his chest. He nestles his nose into your hair, breathing you in, feeling the breath, the life in you as you breathe in sync with him.

Any sense of time, responsibilities, or the outside world become muted and pale in comparison.

It’s just you and him.  

-

The sizzling sounds of bacon for dinner mixed with Eddie’s humming to some oldies fill the kitchen. Every time he turns around from the stove to grab something, he shoots you a smile that captivates his face, something that you wholeheartedly return each time. The acknowledgement that this is love somehow didn’t feel like it had tied you to anything or that any new expectations were put on either one of you. You simply want his company and he, yours.

You scroll through your phone absentmindedly, though the sight of his hips in his low sitting sweatpants are much more enticing than anything your phone’s algorithms have to show you. Playfully, Eddie keeps dancing a little too hard to the music, head banging and swinging his hips to even the softest of Dad Rock.

God, it’s Heaven. As Eddie serves up a few plates, Dylan comes down dressed in one of his better date night outfits.

“Ooh, hot date?” You ask him, leaning forward onto the kitchen island.

Dylan’s brows furrow, stopping mid stride. “Yeah. Not talking to you about that. You’re still my ex. And you’re still seeing my dad. Weirdo.”

Eddie sends a glare his way, eyes darkening in a split second. Dylan rolls his eyes, sneaking around him to grab a bite of bacon. Ignoring it, Eddie places a plate in front of you with eggs, bacon and toast, and you thank him as he leans in for a kiss.

“Love you.” Eddie mutters, and you smile into his lips and feel him do the same.

“L-love?” Dylan spits out, his voice exasperated. He shakes his head, still chewing on the bacon. “Fuck right off.”

“Dyl.” Eddie starts, leaning forward as he takes a bite from his toast. He has a devious smile on his face, chewing on his idea. “Quiet. The adults are talking.”

If you had expected something out of pocket, it certainly wasn’t that.

The brown eyes Dylan shares with his father widen in pure exasperation. “What?? Dad, I’m six months older than her!”

You barely keep in the laughter that bubbles out of your chest. Eddie grins at you and lets out his own chuckle. “That’ll teach you to be an ass, huh?”

Dylan doesn’t respond, just grits his teeth and yanks one more piece of bacon before leaving through the front door.

-

Dylan Munson got dealt a dirty fucking hand from whoever the fuck is in charge of this shit.

It was only a mere nine weeks ago when you made your way across the mixer to say hi to him that he thought things were going his way. The more he saw you, the more he thought that this had to be leading to something. It made sense to him, but as he had started mentioning long term plans or anything of the like, he could feel you clam up. Every time he mentioned something requiring commitment, your shoulders tensed up, your face winced by only a smidge, but when it became a regular occurrence, Dylan realized you might not have been ready as you thought you were.

He was willing to accept it. So, he took matters into his own hands. Honestly, he would’ve been fine paying the daily fee for parking, but he knew his dad was there, and he was excited to introduce you to him. Boy, what a shit show that turned out to be.

As he woke up to an empty bed, he had expected you to be downstairs. Instead, he was faced with a bowl of cereal without the milk, and he couldn’t tell how long it had been there. He searched the whole house. Your bag, clothes, and shoes were still there, so he knew you couldn’t have gone far. Turns out, he was right. You didn’t. You went two doors down from his own.

The sight of you and his fucking dad in the white sheets was already too much to bear, and then the stab of betrayal from his own father hurt more the initial shock of yours, tugging angry tears from his eyes as he ran to his room. The torture of hearing your whimpers, a sound he knew well, while downstairs trying to cheer himself up was fucking brutal.

When you finally left, his dad came home with a terribly apologetic look on his face as he walked through the front door. Dylan refused to hear a damn word out of his mouth, dismissing all his claims of ‘holding back as long as he could’ and ‘I’ve never felt this strongly about anyone before.’ Shit just hurt.

A day later, Dylan couldn’t hold it in anymore. He screamed at the top of his lungs, the anger finally kicking in. His dad did yell back, but mostly at the choice words aimed at you. It hurt for a moment, as it felt like he cared more about someone he had met last week, his (now ex) girlfriend.

When you and his dad showed no signs of slowing or stopping any time soon, he realized this would become a new normal. Didn’t mean he liked it.

He came home after a relatively long day at work to you and his dad sitting and watching a movie comfortably. His knee jerk reaction was to swear angrily, but the look on your face stuck with him. You had never relaxed with him. You were always looking around corners or there was some part in your body unable to lean into him completely.

As you apologized awkwardly on his bed, his hurt finally felt acknowledged by you, and fuck, he needed to hear that he didn’t do anything wrong. He genuinely started to wonder if he did.

Most of his nights he spent going out, his friends asking where the hot new girlfriend he was bragging about now was. He just said you cheated on him and it was over and they called you a bitch and moved on.

Yes, even Ethan. (The one friend you actually liked)

He drowned his sorrows in alcohol, always making his way back to the house where his ex was expected to be at any given time. God, it was so shit.

After your apology, though, he had to admit, you looked good together. It seemed like his dad’s smile just hadn’t left his face for days, and goddamn, was it annoying to admit that you were good for him. That remaining anger seemed to itch at him, unable to forgive or forget, a buried hatchet with an X to mark the spot.

Ethan eventually brought his girlfriend to boys’ night out, which was met with disgruntled groans from the collective group. Ethan’s girlfriend invited a friend who would be joining, and Dylan fought hard not to roll his eyes.

An hour into the night, a drink, and a few good dances in, Ethan’s girlfriend brought her in, and Dylan stopped dead in his tracks. Okay, no one said she would be fucking gorgeous.

If Dylan thought you were out of his league, then Maya wasn’t even playing the same game. His heart pounded out of his chest, and he knew he had to grab this girl a drink and get her number, now. As he pulled into an easy conversation with her, the hairs stood on his arms as it felt electric just being near her.

Maya met his enthusiasm, agreeing to a date within the first hour of conversation with him. One of his buddies mentioned Dylan had been cheated on by his most recent girlfriend, and Maya was floored. If any girl was lucky enough to have him, how could they even think of cheating?

As Dylan rode home in the backseat of his friend’s truck, drunk on her undivided attention and, well, plain ol’ drunk, something his dad had said came to mind. “I can’t explain it, I just had to know her. In every sense of the word.”

He felt the same way about Maya. Everything about her drew him in. Her smell, the way her jeans hugged her hips, the shine of her red hair. God, she was fucking beautiful.

As he smelled bacon on the way down the stairs, he decided to grab a piece on his way out to his first date with Maya, jitters galore. You asking him about the date was kind, but still too weird for him to gush about the gorgeous girl from the bar he met when that ‘gorgeous girl’ was once you.

Love you, his dad said. The word struck him, it occurred to him he doesn’t truly understand how much you and his father cared for one another. The L word didn’t come easily to Munson men, after all. Dylan walked to his car, disgruntled as the interaction rolled over in his mind.

What a mess he would be bringing her home to, if he ever got lucky enough.

-

Since you worked the next day, you had to go home for the night. The lingering kisses at Eddie’s door were too much to bear.

Too much for Eddie, too. You get a text about twenty minutes after you get home, Need you.

You grit your teeth, you need him, too. Working four days in a row sounds manageable, at least it usually does. Without Eddie to come home to or to wake up with, it’s nearly torture. You ignore Skylar’s comment of codependency. Fuck co-dependency, it isn’t that you depend on him too much, you just need him too much. You need to come home to him, to sit and watch tv with him… It’s the domestic bliss you miss.

Somehow, just reading a book at the end of the night without his even breaths has you on edge. You shoot him a text letting him know you’d be there soon.

As you walk through the doorway of Eddie’s house, he welcomes you and you hop into his arms, inhaling his shampoo as soon as you get close enough to, his familiar scent bringing you an indescribable feeling of safety.  “Need you to stop leaving for so long.” He mutters, feeling nearly crazy for missing you so much while you were gone.

You hum in response, staring into his pretty eyes as they stare down at you lovingly, resting your chin on his chest.

“Move in with me.” It’s impulsive.

You blink, unable to register what he just said. “Uh, what?”

He chuckles, hoping the stunned look on your face is a good thing. “It’s stupid for you to keep moving back and forth between here and your apartment all the time. Move in with me.”

It’s a tempting offer. Could you do it? Realistically, could you bring your things in, set up your skin care routine in his bathroom, have a horde of snacks at your disposal, bring Bethany over for sleepovers…is it possible? He watches as you think it through, and his heart skips a beat as he watches it falter. “I-I can’t. Not yet, at least.”

His head tilts curiously, eyebrows furrowed. “Hmm?”

“I’m still tied to my lease for another three months.” You can’t abandon Sky, not after all this time. “Skylar would be pissed if I just up and left her to either scramble for a new roommate or for a new apartment.”

Was that it? “Oh,” Eddie says, relieved. “I can pay that.”

His answer momentarily stuns you, and a gorgeous laugh escapes his lips as he takes in your slack jaw and wide eyes. “W-what?”

He leans in, kissing your lips sweetly. “Sweetheart. I’m not gonna wait another ninety days when I can just pay it now and get you here tomorrow.”

“You’ll pay my half?” You ask, eyebrows raised, a light smile on your face.

“What’s your rent?”

“1800 for the apartment, we both pay 900 plus utilities.”

He does the quick math. “Oh, so 54 (hundred) to buy the lease out? Yeah, I’ll pay it. Might relieve Sky from being pissed at me for stealing her roommate.”

The casualty of his words drench your underwear, his urge to take care of you sending a heat to your center you can’t explain. You lean in, swiping your tongue on his bottom lip, showing your appreciation. “Can-can we go upstairs?” You ask him, out of breath.

Eddie smiles, taking in your lust-blown eyes and slack expression. “You know that’s not why I offered, right?”

The overwhelming happiness bubbles up from the inside and you shoot a wide smile up at him, chin resting on his chest again. “I know. Still, baby. Want you. Please,”

Eddie smirks, framing your face with his thumbs lightly. “When you say it so nicely, how could I ever refuse?”

You tug him by the hand and start running up the stairs. A yelp echoes through the house as Eddie grabs at your ass near the top, and when he lies down on the bed, you can’t get his cock down your throat fast enough.

-

To say the least, Sky couldn’t find it in her to be angry. She was going to miss you, more than she could describe as her roommate. She also had a three month warning to find a new roommate or a new apartment and had ample time to put at least some money aside while she didn’t have to pay for rent. She really had nothing to complain about. Still, she was gonna miss you.

As soon as the lust of him offering to take care of you died down, you went into overdrive, remembering how stressed you were when you had to move in your current apartment, a lease you’ve renewed twice now. You started making a list of things you needed, working between your phone and a random spiral notebook you found in a junk drawer. How many boxes did you need to get? If you used both Eddie and Dylan’s trucks how many hours would it take to move down the stairs-only building you had?

“What’re you working on?” You hear his voice over your shoulder.

“Oh, just working out the kinks of moving. My car won’t be enough, I’ll need your guys’ trucks to help. I also have my own furniture to worry about. The entertainment center is hers, but the couch is mine. My dresser, my bed, my bathroom shelf, all my bathroom junk—”

“Baby.” He interrupts you, a hand sliding up to your neck. “Relax. I can hire someone to take care of all of this for you. Just focus on packing your things and directing the men around on where to put them.” He places his hands delicately beneath your chin. “Ok?”

Fuck, you might just blow him again.

“Ok.”

And you did just that. You shared your list to Eddie’s phone, who called a smaller moving truck with three men to assist, hired an organizer to assist in organizing what you do or don’t need and who will handle selling your furniture, and finally, paying the rest of your rent to your front office without blinking an eye to get you out of the lease.

Soon, you were on the driveway on a hot day, watching as all the boxes containing your clothes, shoes, makeup, and other junk went up the stairs to Eddie’s (and now your) bedroom, a few staying downstairs.

He stands next to you in a white muscle shirt with a band you don’t know pictured on the front and some sweats, hands on his hips as he watches the movers go back and forth between the house and the truck. He radiates authority, each mover couldn’t be much older or younger than you, but they all look to him with respect, all of their words followed by the word ‘sir’.

“Sir, huh?” You ask, teasing him.

Eddie slightly grimaces, rejecting it. “Yeah, they insisted.”

“Dunno, kinda suits you.” You tease, and you walk back to the house, missing the audible gulp that comes from his throat, imagining it. You, on your knees, begging for him, calling him sir…

“Sir?” One of the movers asks, getting his attention. He flicks back, seeing the clipboard held in front of him. “Need you to sign.”

“Oh, shit, sorry.” He mumbles, picking up the pen to sign.

As he signs his name, Dylan pulls up, taking in the men, the truck, the boxes on the floor visible past the open front door. “She’s moving in?”

Eddie looks at him, apologetic. He had asked you yesterday, and since then, he hasn’t had time to sit down and tell Dylan in person. “Sorry, bud. Kind of just happened all at once.”

Dylan thinks of his new girlfriend’s apartment, the night he had just spent wrapped up in her sheets. “I-I get that.”

Eddie blinks, expecting more of a push-back. “So, dad. I met this girl.” Oh, that explains it. “She’s…” the smile that lands on Dylan’s face is peaceful, and Eddie feels both curious and reassured. “Anyway. I wanted to bring her over for dinner to introduce her. Is that okay?”

A firm hand lands on Dylan’s shoulder, bringing him for a hug. “Of course, bud. When did you want to bring her over?”

“Friday at 6?”

It’s Wednesday, so that gives you both ample time to unpack and get the house ready for a dinner guest. “Friday works. Bring her over.”

“Hey, do you guys need any more help with the boxes?” He asks, running into the house.

Eddie doesn’t answer as he stands, stunned at the change in his son over the last, what, week?

The next two days make Dylan realize although he was in a much forgiving mood, he’s going to need to move out and fast. Just when he thought the two of you were bad, he didn’t realize how much worse you’d be when you moved in. In hindsight, he wasn’t sure how he didn’t see it coming.

Soon, he texted a friend he knew who was looking for another apartment about maybe moving in together after realizing your moans were not coming from your bedroom as he grabbed his keys and booked it for the front door.

You were on Eddie’s laundry room floor, wrapped in his arms, with only your shirt around your torso and his hair halfway out of its ponytail. You were still in the middle of recovering; Eddie edged you twice before finally letting you finish. “Did you hear the front door close?” Eddie asks, still breathing heavily as he does.

“N-no.” You gasp, moving your head up to face him, his chest hair tickling your chin. “Were we that loud?”

Eddie laughs, letting a thumb pet your face lightly. “Have you ever tried to be quiet, sweetheart?”

You shut him up with a kiss, slippery, but filled to the brim with everything you had. “Shut up.”

“I love you.” He mutters as you wrap yourself in his arms, and you whisper it back into his chest. “We do have company coming over, so we should probably finish unpacking.”

You groan lightly, but Eddie takes your hands and forces the two of you onto your feet, your knees lightly buckling. “I have so much stuff! There’s so much left to unpack.”

“Oh, I’m sure unpacking yourself into the second half of the walk-in is so hard, baby. C’mon, I’ll help you out.”

Again, Eddie’s house looks humble from the outside, but it was nothing to snark at. As he made more money, he slowly upgraded and renovated instead of just moving into a bigger house. The one upgrade that wasn’t really for him, but a constant reminder of what he lost, was the his-and-hers closet he had made for his ex, something she only enjoyed for six months before leaving him. He was excited to see your dresses, skirts, pants, and underwear in his closet, and especially your smell. Basically, he was excited for your invasion of the house.

You walk over to his–your–room where there are still boxes sitting, waiting to be unpacked. You start unpacking the one labeled dresses/skirts. As you start laying out a pile, separating the skirts you knew you weren’t gonna wear from the ones you would, Eddie sidled up beside you, pulling one you knew looked good on you up from the pile you weren’t gonna wear. “Hey, hey. Why haven’t I seen you in this one?”

You hesitate in your answer, pulling two more dresses out before answering. “Dylan fucked me while I wore that.” You admit, and he drops it immediately. He pulls another one up, hands moving over the silky blue fabric. Damn that one looked great on you. “That one, too.”

He drops it unceremoniously, hands moving to his hips. “Which ones hasn’t he touched you in?”

You put your hands on the much smaller, less appealing pile. “These.”

Eddie sighs, scratching his head. “Alright. We’re going shopping.” He announces, placing the pile of your old ‘rejects’ onto the floor.

“Huh?” You ask him, not sure you heard him correctly.

“Yep. Just leave all the clothes in a pile right there, and on Saturday I’m taking you shopping.”

“Baby, I work Saturday.”

“So call in.”

After Eddie helps you settle in for the next day and a half, you spend a good portion of your Friday in the kitchen, working in tandem to make supper together. You place plates at the dining room table Eddie and Dylan barely used, straighten up the napkins and the utensils when Eddie comes from behind you, and you feel his cock press right up against your ass. You grind back into it, closing your eyes and whimpering.

“Ed, they’ll be here in like,” you let out a sigh, “half an hour.”

He turns you, giving you a dirty kiss and gripping your hips harshly. “Then we better get moving.” He slips your dress up your hips and your underwear down.

“Hmm…take off your pants.”

He slips his cock in, bending you over the table, making you gasp. “Already off, baby.”

-

Dylan pulls up in his truck, now having to park in the same spot you did in the street since you took over his spot on the driveway. “So, this is my house.”

“For three more weeks?” Maya asks, teasing him.

He lets their hands intertwine, leading her to the door. “I did grow up here.”

“Yet your dad is kicking you out.” She says, eyes narrowed.

“No, not kicking me out…” He drifts off, when Maya’s green eyes silently ask him, he dismisses it. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.” He unlocks the front door, and as soon as it’s open, a very peculiar, very annoying sound is heard echoing in the house.

“Fuck, Ed, oh shit.”

Maya’s eyes go wide, it takes her a second longer to understand what they were listening to than it did for Dylan. Dylan shuts the front door, shoving his hand into his pocket for his phone. He dials his dad right away. “…Hello?” Eddie asks after three rings.

Dylan puts him on speaker. “Dad, wrap it up, we’re here.”

“Shit, sorry. Give us five—” the sound of your giggles interrupts him, “sorry, ten minutes. W-we’ll call you.”

He hangs up.

Maya’s face is the picture-perfect expression of what the fuck. “Dyl, when you said your family dynamic is odd…”

“I meant it. C’mon, let’s go for a walk to the corner store.”

Maya is taken aback, but she easily falls in line as Dylan holds his hand out for her. “Can’t believe the first thing I heard from your dad was that.”

“Darling, I have never meant it more than I have right now.” Dylan assures her, and she can see how much he means it in his brown eyes. “My dad has met my girlfriends in worse situations. Just be glad we didn’t see anything…’cause that was not coming from their bedroom.”

-

Eventually, you had to go upstairs to find a new dress to wear, Eddie having completely soiled it during your tryst as he phoned Dylan to let them know they were in the clear. Turns out, the two of you had time blindness when it came to one another, because neither of you were even close to done when Dylan had called.

As you climb down the stairs, there’s a knock on the door, and Eddie meets you there in time to open it to face Dylan and his new girlfriend. It was an intriguing feeling, opening the door to Dylan while Eddie’s arm was behind your back. Like a couple welcoming their son home. It was…bizarre to say the least. “Hey, sorry about—”

“It’s fine, dad. Rather not talk about it.” Dylan insists, his arm around a pretty redhead.

“Sure. Come on in.”

They step in, Maya taking a look around at the place as she does. “Maya, this is my dad and his girlfriend, Y/N. Guys, this is Maya.”

You weren’t used to Dylan being suddenly so cool with you and Eddie being together. He’s never out loud said that you were his dad’s girlfriend before without rolling his eyes or gagging. Whatever he had with Maya seemed to bring him some peace.

Thank god, you didn’t know if you could handle more eye rolls from Eddie’s 25-year-old teenage son. “Maya! Nice to meet you.” You hold your hand out to her, which she accepts graciously.

You remember meeting Eddie as a father to Dylan, and while your thoughts were occupied, whatever you were expecting for Dylan’s dad, it certainly wasn’t Eddie. You could see it clear in her face she wasn’t expecting this metalhead, either.

“Hi, Mr. Munson, nice to meet you.” She extends her hand to Eddie, and Eddie just about loses his mind.

“Ew. Don’t. Call me Eddie. Please.” Eddie gags, the same reaction he had when you addressed him that way when you first met.

“Oh. Sorry. Nice to meet you, Eddie.”

Eddie smiles back, purposefully dressing himself down as a parental figure. You could tell he was poising himself differently for them. Whether it was self consciousness over the last time he met a girlfriend, or making it clear to Dylan he had no plans for a second contender, it did the job.

“Alright, the dining room is this way.” You extend your hand out down the hall, leading the way out of a somewhat awkward situation.

The four of you sit at the table, both men at the heads of the table while you and Maya sit across from one another. Eddie picks up the salad bowl, plating himself quickly and handing it over to you. “So, Dylan. Tell us how you and Maya met.”

They both start the story, eager to share. “Oh, can I tell, Dyl? You always get to.”

“Fine by me.”

Maya giggles softly before facing you and Eddie. “Well, my best friend sort of ditched me to tag along to guys’ night, and I refused to be ditched, so I got myself ready and ended up being fashionably late. When she invited me, I was already done for the night, pajamas and all but I got dressed up out of pure spite.” You chuckle, that’s something Bethany would do. “I got to the club, and suddenly I saw Dylan, and I didn’t want to talk to anyone else for the rest of the night.” She looks over to him, her eyes soft and her pink lips in a sweet smile. “He just drew me right in. We talked for so long we didn’t even realize it was time for last call.”

“Wow.” You comment, taking the last bowl in rotation from Eddie’s hands, the stir-fry vegetables. “Sounds like you guys have a great connection.” You look at Dylan at the last word, hoping he receives your message.

“Oh, we truly do.” Maya grins, Dylan shooting a wink at her in response.

Eddie grabs your hand under the table, and you hold it, petting at the tough skin and colliding with his rings.

“Our first date was incredible.” Maya mentions off-hand but doesn’t elaborate. If it was anything like your first date with Eddie, you knew better than to pry further. “So Dylan told me how you guys met, tell me about that.”

You and Eddie share a look of surprise at how casually she mentions it. You weren’t expecting her to know yet, in fact you were wondering if Dylan was going to tell her at all. Eddie lets out a chuckle. “A shitshow, let’s just say. When Dylan found us, it just became real messy in here.”

Unfortunately, Eddie missed the continuous waving Dylan was doing across the table to stop, please!

“How would meeting online make things messy?” Maya asks, the story Eddie had just told her and the story Dylan explained not exactly lining up.

“What?” Eddie asks, now unsure himself.

Your hand meets your mouth in understanding, facing Dylan with his head in his own hands. “Baby, I don’t think he told her, yet.”

“Nope.” Dylan musters out, annoyed.

“Oh.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on?” Maya asks, watching everyone’s facial expressions one by one.

Dylan sighs, not ready to explain this part. “They didn’t meet online. Remember, my ex? The one who cheated on me?”

Maya rolls her eyes. “Of course I remember that bitch.” She says, giving you a look that says, ‘am I right’.

Dylan sighs, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Uh, Maya?”

“Hmm?”

“That’s her.” He says, pointing to you. “She cheated with my dad.”

Maya looks at you, dumbfounded, as you wave with a tight smile on your face. Being called that cheating bitch behind your back was certainly a new development from him. Not the…greatest feeling in the world. She looks to Eddie, who isn’t smiling, somewhat insulted on your behalf, but gives a friendly wave nonetheless.

“O-oh.”

“I said my family dynamic is different, didn’t I?”

“I thought you meant with how young she is…”

“There’s that…and there’s this. It used to hurt me a lot more, but honestly, since I met you, I don’t really feel that pain anymore.” He says to her. “I wish we could’ve had this conversation in private, but I guess I didn’t warn them.” A new hardness reaches Maya’s eyes as she looks at you, and you’re slightly taken aback by it. “Don’t be mad at them, because I’m not anymore. Well, mostly anyway. My dad said when he met her that he had to know everything about her or he was going to lose his mind.” You look to Eddie, and he winks at you slyly as you mouth the words I love you to him. “I used to think that was bullshit… But when I met you, Maya, I felt the same way, and I realized I couldn’t blame them for pursuing it if it was half as strong as what I felt when I saw you.”

The ice in Maya’s stare all melts the gloss in her eyes. “That’s still super messed up.”

“One hundred percent.” Dylan looks over to you and Eddie, and you’re wondering if the two of you were supposed to leave the table and give them privacy. “But now…they look good together. They’re good for one another. She puts this smile on his face that I never get to see anymore, and she seems more happy with him than she ever was with me.”

Your phone buzzes in your chair under your thigh. A text from Eddie. For the record, no one feels as strongly for anyone as I do for you. No one ever will.

You look at him and he nods once, his lips in a firm line. Your hands reach for his, interlocking with his. “Maya, I know you didn’t mean to but I would appreciate you not calling her a bitch.” Eddie tells her, parent voice on. “Now that we have all that out of the way, Maya, tell us what you do for work.”

-

Maya was a peach, and she seemed great for Dylan. As she helped clear the table she asked Dylan a question and it led to him announcing he was moving out. Out loud, Eddie gave him a proud hug, telling him it was a great idea.

To you, Eddie pumped his fist in celebration. As you washed the dishes that night, insisting Dylan and Maya go enjoy a movie on the couch, Eddie comes up behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “When Dylan finally moves out, I’m fucking you on every surface in this house. I might just tell you to stay naked for easier access.” He leaves a wet kiss on your neck, and you’re left to imagine the possibilities as he adjusts himself while clearing the rest of the table.

True to his word, as Saturday dawns, Eddie wakes you up two hours before you start work and tosses your phone to call in sick for it. You text your manager at his request, and as soon as you hit send, Eddie sends you to his bathroom to get ready for a shopping day. In your first outfit, a pair of shorts and an oversized sweater, Eddie looks up and down at you exasperated and tells you to go get all dressed up and put some makeup on.

When your hands land on your hips at this he backtracks hard. “Of course you can wear what you want, baby! I just know that you love to get all dressed up, and I thought it would be fun for you. That’s all. We’re going to be trying on lots of clothes and I want my girl feeling her best.”

Okay, he has a point. An hour passes by, Eddie moving around you as he gets dressed up himself, less dramatic than his date night outfit, but dressed up all the same. As you finish, a wing on your eye, he comes behind you, looking over your shoulder for something. “You know I used to wear eyeliner all the time?”

“I…no?” You stutter, turning to face him.

“Might put some on today.” He mutters, slightly teasing you.

“If you don’t want to scare the general public, maybe we’ll save it for a date night, Ed.” You yank the pencil away from him, terrified that if you look away for one second, he’ll go overboard.

“Not even a little on my water line?” He asks, and you suddenly realize that yes, he does want some makeup for the day.

“I don’t see why not.” You shrug.

Now you walk hand in hand in the largest mall in town, starting the journey down the large aisle, leading Eddie. But eventually, Eddie ends up leading you, knowing exactly which stores he wants to go to. In the first store he takes you to, you look around the racks timidly, putting away anything you see over 20 bucks. In less than five minutes, Eddie comes by with a pile of clothes in his arms. “I’m gonna get a dressing room started, ok?” He pauses, noticing the 45 dollar dress you just put back. “Ooh, can you hand me that?”

“No, it’s too much.” You insist, looking at the large pile of clothes he has. You thought he meant like, three or four items at the most.

“I didn’t ask how much it was, sweetheart. Hand it over.” He tells you, to which you do. Only five minutes later, as you have only picked out two or three more dresses yourself, does he swing by and tug you to the biggest dressing room, the walls decorated with clothing.

“I-I’m not trying all of this on, am I?” You look around, it would take you at least an hour, and that’s if you hurried.

“Yep. And you’re showing me every piece.” He says, before closing the door on your stunned face.

“Eddie, this is way too much.”

“No complaining, just show me the first one!” he yells to you, no real bark behind his command.

The first dress you wear was a bit revealing, an open back, up to your thighs with a cowl neckline that shows cleavage. He smiles at you, leaning his elbows onto his knees in the seat offered in the dressing room. “Nice… Do a spin.” You roll your eyes, spinning for him slowly and timidly. He whistles lowly. “Man, I’m good. Next!”

He asked for a spin in everything you modeled for him until he didn’t need to, you did it for him. With each new piece, you were learning to not care if you were in a store with him, posing for him as he assessed each piece. Some you thought looked decent on you, he put in the no pile, while others you thought were a sure no, he put in the yes. He told you ultimately, it was your decision and if you felt uncomfortable, you could put one in the no pile, but he knew your body better than anyone. If he insisted it looked good, it must’ve looked good.

At the last piece you put on, he can’t seem to decide, asking an attendant for her opinion. She says she thinks the shirt looks amazing on you but isn’t sure about the style of pants. “Yeah, I chose them just to see if you’d wear it.” You shook your head no, feeling uncomfortable in the business type pants. “Cool. Get dressed in your clothes, we have more stores to hit up.” You toss the shirt to him after yanking it off, and by the time you make your way to the register, the attendant is already handing over two oversized bags to him.

“Eddie, this is enough clothes, I really don’t need anymore!” You insist as he directs you to a store only three spaces over.

As soon as you walk in, they see the big bags Eddie’s carrying and immediately offer their assistance. Eddie rolls his eyes, knowing he only ever gets the star treatment if he’s walking around with the occasional designer bag. (He likes their underwear). “Well, I don’t know if you noticed, but the women’s side of our closet is huge, and you didn’t have nearly enough clothes to fill it anyway.”

Our closet. You’re so fixated on the use of the word our that you don’t realize he’s waiting for you to talk. “Doesn’t mean I need more.”

“Oh, that’s exactly what it means!” He turns to the employee who’s been following him around and hands her the bags. “Be a dear and hold on to these, will ya?” He turns back to you, resting one hand on the rack beside him and staring down at you intensely. “Baby. I want to spoil you. Let me. Please! Pick out some clothes you want, I’ll pick some out, too, and you can try them on.”

“You’ve spoiled me so much already!” You insist, gulping at the sincerity in his eyes. “You’re all I could ever ask for.”

“That’s exactly why I have to spoil you.” He retorts, placing a gentle kiss on your lips. “I love you. Let me show you how much. I have a stupid amount in savings. I kind of want to chuck some out just to keep me humble.”

You giggle at this, finally, fully giving in to his madness.

Madness, it is. As you go from store to store, he gets about two more bags full from each one, and you’re sure some of these outfits will never see the light of day after you see how he looks at you in them. About ten percent will just be something you put on for about two seconds before he takes it off you. He’s buying dresses he knows he’ll be the only person to ever take them off or see you in them.

At one point, he runs back to his truck to put the eight bags he got tired of carrying around away, coming back to meet you in the store he left you in. It wasn’t much of a clothing store, but you had a basket of things you were planning to buy for yourself. Earrings, a knick knack for your desk, a cute notebook and the like. (There was a shirt you found for Eddie that you got just for the hell of it.) You're waiting in line, and you’re digging through your purse for your wallet when Eddie comes behind you, wallet out, card in the machine. “I—”

“Baby. Your money is useless today. Let me.”

You roll your eyes, and the cashier’s wide eyes at his pet-name for you catches your eye, a laugh escaping you. “Yeah, sorry. Guess I forgot to mention my boyfriend is also in his 40s.” You giggle, having just gushed about how Eddie was spoiling you to him.

“What? 40s? I’m clearly in my 20s.” Eddie asks, acting offended.

The poor cashier looks genuinely frightened, holding up his hands in surrender. “He’s joking. He is. Likes to make people squirm.”

“Oh I love to make you squirm—”

“Eddie!” You berate him, yanking him out of the store as he lets out a bout of laughter. He catches his breath, still laughing as you cross your arms, waiting impatiently for him to stop.

“Sorry, sweetheart, you made it too easy! C’mon, two more stores, then we can grab food.”

“Can I pay for food?” You ask, holding his hand.

Eddie smiles, petting your hand with his thumb. “Of course.”

The second to last store he brings you to is an underwear store. Eddie lets you do all the picking, following closely behind and offering any commentary when you ask for it. For once, he doesn’t insist that you model for him, claiming that just seeing you go through the lacier drawers of panties was torture enough. You walk out with a wardrobe’s worth of new underwear, bras, and a little bit of lingerie. It was the first time you were there to see the total, your eyes widening as Eddie takes out his card.

He smirks at your stunned expression. “Oh, this isn’t even the highest bill, sweetheart.” The transaction goes through and the kind lady behind the desks offers the bags to him. “This isn’t even half of it.”

The bill was at about 700 dollars, so the very idea drove you insane that he had already collected every receipt and refused to let you see them.

He brings you to one last store, wall to wall, covered in clothes. He goes a little ham this time, and you notice he focuses on basics. Sweatpants, sweaters, shorts, and under shirts. There’s one thing he chooses that has you struggling to get the zipper up, and eventually you call out for him for help after a good five minutes of fumbling .

He opens the curtain delicately so as to not reveal anything, and you look at him helplessly as your hand can’t reach the zipper sitting low on your ass. His fingers are light to the touch, as one hand rests on your shoulder, one on the zipper as it goes up to your neck, your hair held by your hands. You can’t help the shiver that runs through you as your hair curtains down around your neck, and you turn to face him, holding your hands out to silently ask him what he thought.

What does he think? He thinks that this fucking dress looks so good on you that it would be a crime to get you to start trying on those shorts and sweaters. Hell, you knew your size, you were probably good to go. It was much less revealing than any dress you tried on, a number he’ll probably get you to wear on your next date. He couldn’t help himself, surrounded by the privacy of the small room, he leans in to kiss you sweetly, one hand going up to frame your neck. “Baby.” He mutters, his voice sounding desperate. “You look…fucking gorgeous.”

You smile into it, your hand tracing the seam of his shirt along his torso. “Thanks. Help me out of it? I still need to try on all these clothes.”

His tongue swipes across your bottom lip, surprising you. A slight whimper escapes you as he backs you into the wall against a few clothing articles hanging there. “I will absolutely help you out of this dress.” He says, his voice husky and a touch of arousal lands in your underwear as you realize why. “But then I’m going to get my cock in you.”

“In-in here?” You ask, highly aware you’re in a public space.

“Mmhmm. Be quiet and no one will suspect a thing.” he says, hand slipping under the skirt of the dress to start palming at your folds over your panties. You whimper at the touch into his mouth, focusing all your energy on not alerting the kind sales lady that you were hooking up in her dressing room. “Oh, good girl, keeping herself quiet.”

“It’s…it’s hard.” You whimper, the light touches over your panties not enough, but still causing more arousal.

“So am I.” Eddie chuckles, watching your face as he teases you. He slips the hand into your panties, letting them drop on the floor. “Oh, so wet, huh?” He asks you, eyebrows furrowed as he plays with the slick on your folds.

“Mmhmm.”

“Does daddy buying all the pretty clothes make you all hot, baby?” He asks, voice in your ear and fingers rubbing at your clit gentle, but enough to start you to your destination. You nod your head, because on some level, this was a big turn on for you. “Oh, you horny little slut.”

“Good girl…” You whimper, and Eddie leans back from your shoulder. “Good girl. Please?” You ask him, the slut shaming wasn’t doing it for you.

“Oh, you wanna be called a good girl, huh? Daddy’s good girl?” You nod, your eyes closing as he starts to rub at your clit faster.

“Feels…feels good, Daddy…”

“Daddy’s gonna make you cum, and since you’re a good girl you’re not gonna make a fucking sound. Okay?” You nod, holding a whimper in your throat from the finger he slides into your heat. “Oh she’s close.” He mutters to himself, placing gentle kisses on your neck. “Fall apart on my fingers so I can fuck you, my good girl.”

Your mouth is open in a silent scream, an orgasm shaking through you as you wither against the dressing room wall.  

“Oh, that’s my good girl, such a good listener. Now, turn around and hold on to those hooks.” You do as he says, and as you brace yourself with your hands awkwardly against the hooks decorated with hangers, he zips the dress off you, lifting it over your head and nearly forgetting to muffle his own moan when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. He lets his pants fall around his calves, and as his cock pushes you, you let your jaw open and eyes close, doing everything you could not to moan out loud.

He slowly bucks into you, and you close your eyes and lean against the wall headfirst while the scent of store clothes invades your senses. Soon, Eddie leans forward, forcing your torso up against his back as he places his ringed hand around you like a necklace. He kisses at the skin he can reach sweetly, eyes open as he watches your reaction to everything he does to you.

While the prospect of being caught by someone was hot, Eddie found himself watching for your visual reactions than listening for your audible ones. Hmm. He didn’t realize he had begun to rely on them. “How’s Daddy’s cock?”

“G-good.” You whisper, leaning into his chest with your head back against his shoulder.

“Gonna cum in you.” He mutters. He starts fucking into you a little harder, and it has to be perfectly timed because if he went all the way in, the sound of his balls against your pussy would be a dead giveaway.

“How’s everything in there?”

“Speak.” Eddie commands you, and you have to tear yourself from outer space for a moment.

“Great, thank you!”

“Just a reminder we try not to encourage two people in one dressing room.”

“She was just needing help with a zipper. Almost done.” Eddie pipes out, sounding relatively normal for someone seconds away from cumming.

“If you need any help or sizes, let us know.”

 “Thanks…” Shit, that sounded out of breath.

“Cum in me.” You whisper, and Eddie does just that, slowly fucking his way through his orgasm, his cheeks flushed, shirt clinging onto the sweat.

You nearly protest as he takes himself out and tucks himself back into his pants. At this point, you were so turned on you kind of wanted to blow him while you had him in the room. You hold his face in your hands and connect your foreheads. “Is it bad I still want more?” You mutter under your breath.

Eddie swears softly, his boner fighting harshly against his slacks. “Fuck. No, I do, too.” He tugs your naked self into his arms, kissing your hair softly. “But…she was suspicious. Unless we want to get kicked out, we should quit while we’re ahead.”

“Can I blow you when we get home?” You ask him, turning to grab your own clothes off the floor.

Eddie chuckles, shaking his head as he grabs the clothes scattered around the dressing room. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

It took multiple trips from Eddie’s truck to bring in all the bags. You truly didn’t realize how many pieces of clothing he had bought you until you saw it all scattered on the closet floor, all ready to be reorganized. Eddie starts hanging them, and you notice the outline of his cock in his slacks. He was still throbbing.

“Can I?” You ask, sitting pretty on your knees and looking up at him.

“Fuck, I’m never gonna say no to that.” Eddie answers, placing a hand under your chin.

You undo his pants, giving him a hungry look as his cock springs free. “You’re still hard?” You ask, knowing you’ve gotten food at the food court and walked around the mall a bit more before coming home.

“Mmhm.” You smile, jerking him lazily as you eye the length hungrily. You have the idea to tease him more, but the need to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue is too much. Eddie swears loudly as you take him in your mouth, gripping onto the center console for accessories and underwear. “Fuck”

You slowly bob your head up and down, staring up at him through your eyelashes as you relax your throat and allow your nose to meet his stomach. His hands skim through your hair, moving your head lightly, and again, you find it ridiculously easy to submit to him.

Eddie is uncharacteristically quiet, head thrown back in bliss as he feels the spit gather at his base. His stomach starts to tighten up a little bit and under your hands, his thighs are tense. Somehow it spells out to you he’s close.

You prepare yourself, moving your head faster on your own accord, opening your eyes at him again to watch for his reaction as you double down. A goddamn whimper escapes his throat as you continue, and suddenly it’s your goddamn mission to make him make that sound again. “Fuck, baby. Fuck…” Without any warning, the warm salty taste of his cum hits your tongue and you moan around him as he rides through his orgasm.

For once, as you wipe your mouth, you can tell he’s the one that needs recovery. You move to your feet, waiting for him to catch his breath. “Need some water?” You ask him, somewhat joking.

“The fuck was that?” He asks, his face in awe as he looks at you.

You give a cheeky and quick little kiss to the hand on your cheek. “Wanted to make you feel good.”

“Jesus Christ—” he tugs you into a hug, habitually kissing your hair. “How did I get so lucky?”

“Uh Ed.” You push lightly on his chest to get out of the hug, giving him a look of disbelief. You look gesture around the closet to the half of the clothes still not put away. “How are you the lucky one?”

Eddie’s face breaks into a wide smile, his dimples prominent, his smile lines deep. “You keep thinking that, darling.” He laughs, tugging you back into his arms.

As you stand there against his chest, relaxing into him with your eyes closed, the doorbell rings. “I’ll get it. You put away my clothes since you know where everything goes.”

“I did design this closet.” He retorts, pointing a finger at you.

You walk down the stairs to the front door, seeing a tall figure facing away through the smart glass. You open the door to a gorgeous set of brown locks, perfectly coiffed. The figure turns around, and clearly doesn’t expect to see you standing there. “Hey, Ed- whoa.” You recognize his face, but you aren’t sure where from. You subtly fix your hair; suddenly aware you had just given head to your boyfriend. “Uh, sorry, little lady. Is Eddie here?”

“He’s upstairs in the closet. Can I help you?”

The stranger smiles kindly, and you notice the freckles on his face are like constellations. “Oh sorry! I told him I’d be coming through town, but I forgot to say when. I’m Steve, Steve Harrington.”

-

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

Taglist: @pinkcowracing @yourthebrokengirl @skrzydlak @thirddeadlysin @sammararaven @bebe07011 @prettylovley @josephquinncore @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you

Taglist for Really Drives Me Mad: @yunnie-f1 @hollster88 @corrodedcoffincumslut @daisyridleyyyy @daniellabrandt @lail1010 @alicentswife @names-were-taken @bl4ckt00thgr1n

[advisorykitty]

Idk if I asked this already but can you do Randal x extremely nice/pushover! reader headcanons

Randal X Pushover Reader

Headcannons!!

You were Randal’s only friend, drawn to his strange but lonely vibe. You started dating because you were too nice to say no.

You agree to everything Randal wants, even his weird hobbies like collecting creepy dolls or exploring abandoned places and playing video games.

Randal will casually say things like “You’re mine forever,” but he says it with a weirdly sweet (yet unsettling) smile.

Unlike everyone else, Randal never tries to scare you. Instead, he just creepily watches you until you notice him. Something like "Oh hey! about time you notice me~"

If someone is rude to you, Randal will offer to make them “disappear,” though you always decline with a nervous laugh.

He gifts you a doll that looks eerily like you. You accept it even though it makes you uncomfortable.

Randal has no concept of personal space. He’ll randomly appear while you’re brushing your teeth or reading, just wanting your attention.

You can’t say no to Randal’s odd requests, like exploring creepy buildings or helping him name his dolls. Sometimes even straight up trespassing .

Randal constantly reminds others that “she’s mine,” in a way that makes people unsure if he’s joking.

Probably explains why no-one longer talks to you in class

Which is great for him since you have more time to spend together!

Sebastian thinks you’re too nice for your own good and encourages you to stand up for yourself, but you never do.

Luther offers you vague, slightly creepy advice like “You can always leave if he gets too much,” which leaves you unsure if you should laugh or worry.

And you find yourself contemplating what facial expressions to make when he says something (like is he trying to be funny or serious?)

Nyen teases you about putting up with Randal, while Nyon avoids being around when the two of you are together, clearly uncomfortable.

You’ll sit through hours of some wierd anime or eat Randal’s questionable cooking, just because you don’t want to hurt his feelings.

Onetime he tried making shitake soup probably saw it in an anime

He used poisonous mushrooms that he found, and you were sick for a week

If you’re stressed, Randal insists, “I’ll handle it, don’t worry,” though you’re never entirely sure what that means.

Another time while you were at school and unbeknownst to you had been getting bullied.

The next day the bullies magically didn't show up to class. Who could of thought 🙀🙀

MINI-INTERVIEWS!!

Nyen: "She’s soft, too soft. I don’t get why she sticks around Randal like that. He’s weird, but she’s worse for putting up with it. If it were me? I’d leave. No one’s worth that much patience. Maybe she likes being treated like one of his dolls. I don’t care. She’s just... there. Nothing special." Shrugs."Whatever." Nyen doesn't really care for you. As long as you stay out his way, he'll stay out of yours. However, he is interested in seeing what it takes to break your facade.

Luther:

"Sie ist... nett. Too nice. I’ve told her—several times—that she can leave Randal whenever she wants, but she stays. Warum? No idea." He shrugs slightly, voice monotone. "Maybe she likes suffering. Patience like hers is rare but fragil. We’ll see how long it lasts. But she’s... not terrible. Just... too kind." Luther enjoys your company. If he can even enjoy it, you're helpful and don't complain?? 5 stars already. He's still confused about how patient you, but humans like your are his favourite!

Randal:

"She’s mine, forever. No take-backs. I love how she never says no, like she’s meant for me. She’s kind of like a doll, you know? Only real, and much better. I won’t let her leave. She’s perfect the way she is, even if she doesn’t know it yet." Loves you alot, maybe to much. You spend majority of your time with him and he makes sure of that! Not like you can say no anyway.

Sebastian:

"She's uh.. okay?? I don't know how she has so much patients with Randal though... atleast it keeps thing off me for a while when she's around."

Similarly to Nyen, he doesn't care much for you, but he is thankful that you keep the heat of him when Randal is busy talking to you.

Nyon:

"She's..... nice.. too nice. Strange, too, not like Randal. Good. Strange.." He's not much of an extrovert, but he does see you as somewhat extraordinary. It's not often you meet someone who isn't cynical. However, he does sometimes feel bad for you when you have to endure Randal daily; you don't see him much, so you can't exactly regulate an opinion.

[velarisnightsky444]

Scorched Shadows: Part 10

Eris x AzrielsSister!Reader

Summary: Y/N is the younger sister of Azriel. She has shadows just like him, and is also a spymaster for Rhys. When she meets Eris, she initially hates him, but after a bargain is made between them, things begin heating up.

cw: mentions of child abuse

a/n: ik, ik, main character who plays piano and loved the symphony, how original. but i genuinely didn't put the pieces together until after i thought this up.

Series Masterlist

Part 9 || Part 11(upcoming)

»»————-　♔　————-««

Year: 19 since fic began Year: 15 Under the Mountain

Attending a ball was the last thing on your mind. Especially after what had happened at the last one you'd attended.

There was one tonight, and you'd decided you wouldn't go. Rhys wouldn't be there, anyway. Seeing Rhys was the only reason you ever attended Amarantha's festivities. Even if you couldn't always speak with him, just a glimpse of him made it worth it.

Things had been tense between you and Eris in the last five years. Of course, fights were something you were both used to. You were always fighting.

But no matter how intense the fights got, it never ended the fling between the two of you.

So, of course, you were currently on your way to his bedroom. He was a nice distraction; that was all he was. Why you couldn't find a nice distraction with any other male, you weren't sure. You and Eris had nearly two decades of history. That made things easier. Knowing that neither of you owed the other anything.

When you arrived, you found his bedroom empty. You huffed, checking the clock on the wall. He said he'd be back by now.

So you plopped down on his bed, breathing in the scent of him, then scolding yourself when you realized you were savoring it.

The door opened, and you sat up to greet him, freezing only when your eyes met those of a female.

The Lady of Autumn stood in the doorway, her russet eyes wide. Her red hair was almost lifeless as it fell down her shoulders. She was much too thin, her face gaunt.

You flushed a deep red, scrambling from Eris's bed.

"Oh, dear, I apologize," she said quietly, her voice meeker than you expected. "I was looking for my son."

"No, my Lady, I'm sorry," you stammered, bowing your head to her. "This . . . this isn't what it looks like, I was just looking for him, I'm so sorry--"

"No need for that," she assured you, a slight smile on her lips. It looked out of place for her. "I will come back later."

Just as she was making to leave, Eris came strolling into the room. He seemed almost carefree; that is, until he took in the view before him. His amber eyes flitted from you to his mother, then back.

He cleared his throat awkwardly, shooting you a look before turning to his mother.

"Mother, I--"

"I don't want to know, Eris," she said to her son. "We'll talk about it later."

"Don't tell--"

"I won't." With that, she was gone.

You loosed a breath of relief, collapsing headfirst onto his bed. He closed the door behind him, making a point to lock it.

"That was humiliating," you grumbled into his pillow.

"Agreed," he said, sitting beside you. "But she won't tell anybody."

"Does she know that we're--" you trailed off, usually not speaking the word 'mate' out loud.

"No," he admitted. "Nobody knows."

"I haven't told anybody, either," you said.

"I figured," he scoffed. "Your brothers would've strung me up by now if they knew." You couldn't quite disagree.

"Well, I think the mood has officially been ruined," you declared, sitting up and making to leave.

"Wait," he said. You froze, turning your attention to him. "The ball tonight. Come with me."

"No," you scoffed.

"Why not?" he mused. "I have nobody to go with. Might as well be you."

"I'm flattered," you glared.

"Besides, Amarantha is hosting a meeting with the High Lords during the ball," he reminded you. "Your brother and my father won't be there."

"Your brothers."

"Will be too drunk to see straight," he assured you. "The ballroom beside it will be empty. We would still be able to hear the music. Then, we'd be alone."

"Why do you want to go with me so badly?" you demanded.

"Old times sake," he shrugged. "Who knows, maybe dancing together again will reverse the mating bond." You snorted.

"Fine," you sighed. "But only because I miss music and dance."

"We'll meet at 8."

»»————-　♔　————-««

You couldn't believe how nervous you were as you got ready. Rhys had supplied you with some money, so you bought a new ballgown from the seamstress that lived in the room beside yours.

Night Court colors. A deep violet gown with a flowing skirt and a tight, strapless, bodice. One that showed off your breasts in a way you knew would drive Eris mad.

Mostly, you were looking forward to hearing the orchestra. You loved music. You always had.

When you were very little, you'd once broken away from Azriel during your time out of the cell.

You had run amuck around the house until you found yourself in a room. It looked unused, white sheets covering the furniture. But on a side table, there was a symphonia.

You hadn't known what it was at the time, so you'd messed with it until it began playing music. You had gasped, sitting beside it and listening.

By the time your hour was up, Azriel had found you. He'd scolded you for going upstairs as he dragged you back to the cell. The upstairs was strictly forbidden for the both of you.

But you did it again. Nearly every day for months, you found yourself in that room, listening to the music.

Until the day your stepmother had found you. The lashings she had bestowed upon you, plus the beating you had gotten from your father, had been severe enough to keep you from going upstairs ever again.

Azriel saw how upset you were to have lost the music. He began singing to you to calm you down, and it helped.

After you both moved to Windhaven, your new family had a hard time connecting with you. You were shy, and you didn't speak. So they all went to Azriel for advice. He had told them you loved music, jokes, and stories.

Selene told you stories, and you loved them. Especially the ones about her and your mother, from when they were girls together.

Cassian made it his mission to make you laugh everyday after his training. He told you jokes, and delighted in hearing your laughter.

Selene also taught you to play the piano. There was a small one in the sitting room. And you loved listening to her play, as well.

Over the years, you became a very skilled pianist. Your brothers always said you should've made a career out of it, but you didn't want it to become a job. You loved it simply for the art.

And every time you went to Velaris, Selene took all of you to the symphony. From the first time, when you were seven, you fell in love. It became your favorite thing to do.

But after she had died, all of you struggled to go back. It wasn't until decades after her death that you all decided she would've wanted you to attend, to enjoy it for her.

So now, every year on the day she died, you would all attend the symphony in her memory. And the orchestra always dedicated the music to her on that specific night.

You stared at yourself in the mirror. You had lost weight, just as everyone had under here. We were kept from starvation, but Amarantha made sure none of us were well fed. She only supplied food at her parties.

Your skin was paler, though still dark due to your Illyrian heritage. You hadn't felt the sun in ages.

Despite that, you looked beautiful in your dress. Your hair was curled, your makeup simple.

You looked just like your mother when your hair was curled. You missed her so dearly. You hoped Azriel was visiting her regularly, and you hoped she wasn't too worried about you.

Thoughts of your mother kept you distracted from the nerves as you strolled through the corridors, to the ballroom.

You fidgeted with your scarred hands, trying not to chew on your lower lip and ruin your red lipstick.

You carefully snuck over to the empty ballroom, beside the one that was buzzing with life and music. You were good at blending into the shadows, so nobody noticed when you slipped into the other room.

Eris was already there, looking fine in his maroon suit. He turned, his amber eyes meeting yours. The breath loosed from your throat at the sight of him. He was so incredibly handsome. It still shocked you.

You could hear the music playing from the other room. You closed your eyes for a moment, indulging in the notes. The beauty of music was always enough to relax you.

Eris had his hand out to you when opened your eyes. You curtsied, taking it.

"You clean up nice," he commented.

You rolled your eyes, placing you other hand on his shoulder as his went to your waist. And you began to dance.

"Wish I could say the same of you," you lied.

"Is that why your heart skipped a beat when you saw me?" he taunted you. "Interesting."

"You're a prick," you mumbled. He only grinned, spinning you.

Eris was a excellent dancer. You were able to keep up with him, but your skill paled in comparison.

"Where did you learn to dance properly?" he asked you.

"What?" you demanded, making a sour face.

"I wouldn't think a bastard would be taught to dance," you explained. You only glared.

"Rhysand taught me," you admitted. "When I was ten."

Selene had gotten you a symphonia of your own, and with it, Rhys taught you to dance. He saw how jealous you were of him going off to important High Lord balls. So he taught you.

He had been thirteen, but tall for his age. And you had been ten, and small for yours. So you stood on his feet, reaching up to hold onto him.

As you got older, he began taking you as his date to every ball. It was one of the reasons he had taken you to the masquerade with him.

He knew you thought badly of yourself, being so low born. So he did his best to make you feel special.

He was never embarrassed about bringing his little sister as his date, even after he became High Lord. He said he loved seeing your face light up, and it always did when you walked into the ball on his arm.

"He taught you well," he complimented. "You dance just fine for a bastard."

"You don't need to follow up a compliment with a insult every time," you said to him, exasperated.

"I'm a cruel bastard, remember?" he scoffed. "What else would you expect?"

"Despite what I may have said five years ago," you began. "I do not believe you are as cruel as you pretend to be."

"You don't?" he hummed.

"Rhysand wears a mask," you said. "Everyone think him cruel. But he isn't. I think it's the same with you."

"Why would you possibly think that?"

"You invited me here tonight," you shrugged. "You've been a prick, but never cruel to me. You respect my boundaries in bed. You treat your mother well. You didn't turn me in when you found me spying in your court."

"We made a bargain," he reminded you.

"Even without the bargain, looking back, I doubt you would've turned me in," you mused. "I didn't know it back then, but now . . . "

"You think you know me now," he scoffed.

"Yes, I do," you confirmed. "Don't think this means anything. I still despise you, Vanserra."

"I would be concerned if you didn't," he stated, dipping you.

This time, no bond snapped as you stared up in his eyes. But that bond in your chest sang.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Scorched Shadows Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @hnyclover @lilyevansstudygroup @esposadomd @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @a-court-of-mischief-and-madness @sourapplex @when-you-cant-think-of-anything @i-know-i-can @mp-littlebit @paintedbyshadows @kristijenner19 @kitsunetori @lorosette @bookwormysblog

Eris Taglist:

Comment to be added to the Scorched Shadows or Eris taglists!

»»————-　♔　————-««

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | wolfstar x reader

Series Masterlist | Previous episode (backstory)

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.7 K Warnings: none Prompt: Of the unopened letters and your first day at Hogwarts. This IS a wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it.

Rainy days and Mondays

July 10th, 1974

Dear Sirius, 

My mom gave me your address. She feels really bad about the whole situation, but that does not justify her actions. She and Dad were awful by keeping their mouths shut, awful, and I’m terribly sorry about it. If only they’d said something, maybe then they would’ve changed the outcome of the situation. 

I tried asking her to write a letter to your parents, with the truth behind the trip, you know, that it was MY IDEA, but she refused to do it. I’m sorry I can’t do anything to help you avoid the wrath of your parents. Our families are a bunch of cowards. 

Thanks for the necklace, It’s beautiful. I put it on when I got home, it’s got a strange weight to it, but I like it, it reminds me of you. I’m writing a copy of the instructions of you know what on a letter and I’ll send it to you once we’re back in school. I’m really upset our trip was cut short. It would’ve been nice to stay in the moment a bit longer. Anyway, I really wish you’re well. Hope to hear from you soon. 

Love,

(Y/N)

July 15th, 1974

Dear Sirius, 

I hope my letter finds you alright. I’m writing again since perhaps my last letter got lost in flight, my owl Reese can be very clumsy sometimes.

 I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened. I’m sorry for having the idea to go to Xplore (not for what happened inside the park, but yes what happened after), I’m sorry your parents found out, and I’m sorry we trusted Regulus to have our backs. I’m sorry my parents were cowards and didn’t back me up when I said the truth. And I’m really sorry for whatever your parents do to you. 

It was really fun spending our break together. I get the chances of it ever happening again are zero, but it’s nice thinking we got to meet. 

Also, I wanted to thank you for the necklace. I've been wearing it every day since I returned home, I really enjoy having it around my neck, it reminds me of our adventure. 

Hope to hear back from you soon, 

(Y/N)

July 25th, 1974

Dear Sirius Black, 

I’d like to be able to assume my letter was lost in the mail again, but since the lack of response from the previous two, I can only imagine you have decided to ignore my letters. 

Which, to be honest, I don’t understand. YOU were the one that decided to take the blame for yourself. If you HAD backed me up, and told your parents it had been me, then you wouldn’t have gotten in so much trouble. 

Last night I received a letter from Regulus, I did not care to read it and threw it straight to the fire. I do not want to hear his apologies, mom told me it was him that spilled the soup. Traitor, like you’d call Slytherins in the past. I guess once a snake, always a snake.  

I don’t want to sound like I’m begging, but please talk to me, if anything just tell me you’re alright. I just want to know you’re ok. 

(Y/N)

August 3rd, 1974

Sirius, 

This is the last letter I write. I’m sorry for bothering you with my insistence, I will not write any more letters. I’m sorry we met, and I’m sorry I caused you so much pain that you decided to completely cut me out of your life, or whatever, I don’t even know what happened. 

I really thought we could stay friends, even after everything that happened. But I guess we can’t always get what we hope for. Either way, a promise is a promise, and I will send you the instructions for you know what once we’re back in school. I don’t want your parents to accidentally find them by opening your mail. 

I really hope you’re alright. 

Goodbye Sirius, 

(Y/N)

After writing that letter you cried like a baby and considered burning it instead of sending it several times. But you knew writing more letters was useless –and that it would be worse if you went on without any closure– still waiting for an answer from him that you would never receive. So you tied the letter to Reese and sent him off. Once the school year started, and after you made a copy for yourself, you bent the old piece of parchment and put it inside an envelope alongside a note. 

August 14th, 1974

Sirius Black  Dear James Potter,

This is something I promised to give Sirius. He is currently very angry at me and will ignore all my attempts to contact him. But this contains something that will be very useful for him, I know he really wanted it. So I appeal to you instead, his best friend, to knock some sense into him. 

Please receive this letter and give him the parchment. He’ll recognize it. If you must, lie to him, tell him you found it in a restricted area of the school library or whatever (Hogwarts has one of those too, right?). 

Yours truly,

Someone who disappointed your best friend. -and was disappointed by him too.

You closed the envelope, waving your wand with a small spell to make sure it was properly sealed and wrote in thick black ink:

TO: James Potter

Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry

2 years later

September 1976

You walked to Kings Cross with your cart in between your hands. Your dad had left you just outside the station. The idea of moving to a new country had been fascinating in theory, but once you arrived there, alone and with no one to talk to, you’d felt incredibly lonely. 

Your mom told you about your dad getting the position in the British ministry on your last day of school, you didn’t even have enough time to say goodbye to all of your friends before going back home to find all your stuff had already been neatly packed in boxes. 

Just two days after that you were in London, lonely as ever. You spend your entire break exploring the muggle part of the city. The muggle museums were pretty interesting, but you felt alone non the less. You kept in touch with your friends through owl mail but it wasn’t the same as being able to actually hang out with someone. 

In the middle of the summer break, your mom took you to Diagon Alley, and nothing made you feel more isolated than Hogwarts students hugging their peers as they saw each other for the first time in a while. The only thing that somewhat cheered you up was the stunning Dark Nimbus your dad had bought as an apology for making the move so sudden. They did care about you, a lot, they just had different priorities than yours.

As you walked through the large corridors of the station you spotted a couple of younger kids walking beside their mother, while carrying trunks similar to your own, one of them had a huge cage with an owl in it, which was a dead giveaway that they were actually wizards, even in their attempts at a muggle outfits.  

You discreetly followed behind them and saw them walk in right through a wall in between platforms nine and ten. You imitated them shortly after and found yourself in a very wizarding-looking space. A huge scarlet train with the words “Hogwarts Express” painted gold on its side pumped smoke through its chimney. As you stared at it, someone bumped against you from behind and pushed you forward a bit. 

“I’m sorry,” He said, turning towards you apologetically “I didn’t see you there.” 

You looked at the boy, he was tall and lean and had a fair share of scars all over his body. Made you think of a pirate from those spicy romance novels your mom had on her bookshelves.

“No problem,” You answered honestly. 

He then gave you a strange look, he was wondering whether he’d seen you before and was about to ask you about it when a girl called for him from the far distance “Remus! We’ve got to go, we gotta care for the first years!”. 

“Coming!” He shouted back at her and turned to look at you one last time before giving you an apologetic smile and leaving. 

You stared at him for a minute, Remus, the girl said. The name was oddly familiar but you couldn’t pinpoint why. Perhaps it was the name of a book character you read a while ago or something. 

Then you continued to push your bags to the baggage administration system, keeping with you only a small trunk with your uniform. 

As you walked inside the train you realised most of the carts were full, and sighted when you realised how awkward it would be to invade some already-made friend group by showing up uninvited, even if the curiosity of meeting the new kid was in your favour. 

You decided to open one of the doors where you’d seen kids that looked about your age walk in earlier but regretted it the moment the door was fully opened. 

Most of them had given you scornful looks. Especially an unhinged-looking boy, but that wasn’t even the worst part. Right there, in the middle of all of them was Regulus Black. The traitor, Regulus Black. 

He stood up the moment he saw you, letting some candy fall from his lap as he stared at you in disbelief. “What are you…? How–“ 

You took a deep breath and decided the world had been a better place when you didn’t even remember his existence. So you simply closed the door and left to find a different place. 

As you continued walking through the train you saw many groups of people hanging out in the different sections of it. Laughing students that talked to their friends, a small little brunette girl, who must have been a first year since she was crying about missing his parents while another girl, that looked just like her but older, comforted her. There was no one else in their cart so you gently knocked on the door. 

The two girls turned towards you and the smallest quickly wiped the tears from her face. “I’m sorry to disturb you,” you said as you closed the door behind you “I’m trying to disappear before someone I really don’t want to see finds me.” You sat down in front of them “I cried too when my parents first put me on a carriage to school.”

“I wasn’t crying,” the little girl said defensively. 

“A carriage?” Asked the older girl, clearly curious now that she started paying attention to you “You weren’t at Hogwarts,” she said as she took your appearance in.

You denied with your head “I’m a transfer student, this will be my first year here,” you said and then turned to the smaller girl “like yours.”

“Does that mean she doesn’t have a house?” The smallest girl asked as she looked up at her sister “But she’s old.”

“Old?” You asked, diverted.

The little girl covered her mouth “I didn’t mean…”

“It’s all right, I was just teasing. But I’m not that old either. Only 16.”

“Oh, like Marlene,” she said pointing at her sister “maybe your guys will end up taking classes together.”

“Year 6?” Marlene asked you.

You nodded and held your hand towards her “ (Y/N)(Y/LN).”

“Marlene McKinnon,” she said while shaking your hands, she was strong and had slightly rough palms, which indicated she flew a lot “And this rude little girl is my baby sis, Margo.”

“Nice to meet you.” You said with a smile.

“I’m not rude,” mumbled Margo as she crossed her arms and started munching on some candy Marlene had handed over to her. 

“You fly a lot?” You asked, when she looked puzzled you showed her your palms “I felt the broom marks when we shook hands, I have them too.”

She smiled and nodded, “I’m on my house’s quidditch team, I’m the best beater they have,” she said with a smile and then whispered, “Just don’t let the other guy know.”

At that, the two of you laughed, at that moment you figured perhaps life at Hogwarts wouldn’t be so bad, as long as you got to meet more people like Marlene. You talked about quidditch for most of the trip back, she told you about the new broom her parents had bought her last year and you told her about your new Dark Nimbus, which she made you promise you’ll let her take a ride on. Margo seemed rather bored with your conversation and grabbed a book from her backpack, something about care for magical creatures. 

Once the train was close to the destination a tall brunette boy knocked on your doors “Are you (Y/N)(Y/LN)?” You nodded to answer and he smiled “Great! My name is Alexander Wood, Head Boy in Hufflepuff, I was asked by Professor McGonagall to escort you to Dumbledore’s office as soon as the train arrived.”

“Oh, all right,” you said as you stood up and grabbed your small trunk, “Hope to see you around,” you said to Marlene with a quick wave before following behind Alexander. 

“You can call me Alex,” he said as he continued walking towards the doors “Professor McGonagall said it was immensely important you arrived before everyone else, apparently they want to get you sorted before the feast,” he explained. 

“Sorted?” You asked confused.

“Into your Hogwarts house,” he explained “There’s four of them, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor-“

“-and Slytherin.” You concluded. 

“Yes! Exactly!” he said without noticing the bitter tone which you had used to say the latter “you’ve done your research.”

“More like I met someone once,” you said as you continued to follow him. “There’s a sorting cap, right?”

“Sorting hat,” he corrected. “Don’t dare call him a cap, or he’ll be offended.”

“The hat?! He’s sentient…”

“Very much so,” he said with a nod “and very touchy too.”

“How do you know in which house he’ll sort you?”

“You don’t,” he said as the two of you stood next to the doors “Sometimes you get sorted the same way as your parents, kind of like a family line sort of thing, other times, like in my case, your family gets sorted into all different kinds of houses, my mom’s a Gryffindor, dad’s a Ravenclaw and my sister was a Slytherin. But then again, your parents didn’t attend Hogwarts, did they?”

You responded by shaking your head “Mom studied in Ilvermorny, Dad in Beauxbatons.”

He nodded, and then the train came to a halt, you grabbed the railing to stop yourself from crashing against him and then the door opened swiftly right in front of you. He quickly got down and motioned for you to follow. On the train, everyone else was starting to grab their things to prepare to get off. You followed behind him towards a couple of carriages without any horses. 

You got in and then started to move towards the castle at a relatively fast pace. "Do you normally take new students to the director's office?" You asked Alex.

He shook his head "We don’t get many new students unless they’re first years, and their sorting is public."

"Why won’t mine be?" You asked, genuinely curious. 

"Haven’t a clue," he said honestly and pulled a transparent bag from his robe "You want some?" He asked as he offered the bag to you.

"Are those Fizzing Whizbees?" You asked as you grabbed one of them, he nodded "They’re my favourites!"

"Mine too!" He said with a smile before popping one into his mouth. 

Soon enough the two of you were already entering the huge castle. As you looked around he drove you towards the famous moving staircases. You had heard of them in some of your history classes, but you never expected you’d see them in person, they were as magnificent as the books described. 

"Come on, they won’t wait for you to stop admiring them before they change," he said motioning for you to follow, "you’ll have plenty of time to look at them later on." 

You nodded and followed right behind him. Soon enough you were just outside of an office, a giant golden eagle stood there. A very elegant-looking lady in a green gown walked from the hall towards you "Thank you very much, Alex, for bringing (Y/N) here, I’ll take it from here, you should go to the banquet, help the first years that get sorted into your house." Alex nodded and left, then the lady turned towards you "My name is Minerva McGonagall," you said, you were surprised, up until then you had thought the professor McGonagall they kept referring to was a man. "Follow me please."

You nodded and followed her, as she stood right in front of the eagle it started twirling and unveiling a set of stairs. The two of you walked up the staircase and you found yourselves in front of a large office, filled with magical gadgets, and astronomy tools. An old wizard with a very large white beard stood in the centre "This must be (Y/N)," he said. 

"Nice to meet you, sir," you said to the old man. 

He smiled kindly "My name is Albus Dumbledore, you may call me Professor Dumbledore, I am the director of Hogwarts." You nodded in response "We brought you here to sort you, after talking about it we decided it would be a lot easier to sort you here instead of the banquet hall, we thought you could perhaps feel uncomfortable being the only 16-year-old student being sorted along the first years."

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore," you responded. 

"And we also wanted you to have enough time to get your uniforms ready before walking to your classes tomorrow." Then he motioned for you to sit on a chair in the middle of the room. Professor McGonagall picked a hat from a pillow and placed it over your head.

"Interesting…" you heard the hat speak, in a rather low tone. Your breath hitched "You’re old to be sorted… it won’t be easy to decide where you’ll fit in best."

"It’s… speaking to me…" you said as you looked at McGonagall. 

"It does that often, just let him ramble."

You took a deep breath and continued to listen "ambitious, clever, brave." He said "Many qualities from many houses in one person…" 

"Ambitious no…" you whispered back "Not cunning, not a traitor."

"You’ve got preferences," He responded to your words "You don’t want to be a Slytherin."

"I’m no snake." You responded. 

"Slytherin are not all traitors, besides, other houses can harbour them too."

"I… I don’t want to see him every day." You admitted, thinking of Regulus. 

"There might be things you don’t know about him… or the other boy."

"I just–" you started.

"–Gryffindor!" The hat roared before you even had time to elaborate. 

Professor McGonagall smiled as Dumbledore told her "She’s one of yours."

She walked towards you, took the hat off your head and set it on the pillow again "I had a good feeling about you," she said with a smile. 

"Nimbletwist," called the old man, soon enough a house elf appeared, "Please take (Y/N)’s robes to the laundry elves, that way they’ll have her house colours before her classes in the morning." The house elf nodded. 

"Please follow us," said McGonagall as they guided you out of the office and towards the great hall. In the middle of the way, the same boy you’d seen on the platform walked towards her. 

"I was told you were looking for me or Lily, she stayed with the first years, and sent me here."

She nodded "This is (Y/N), she’s new, the hat just sorted her in Gryffindor, and she’s in your year. I was hoping you could introduce her to your classmates and keep her out of trouble until the end of the day." The last remark seemed to be directed towards him specifically. 

Remus, as you remembered, just gave her a flashy smile and nodded "I’m always out of trouble." He responded before turning towards you and offering his hand "Remus Lupin, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you." You shook his hand and smiled back. McGonagall and Dumbledore were gone in an instant, and you were left alone with yet a new Hogwarts student. 

"I saw you at the station."

"You ran into me at the station," you corrected teasingly. 

"You’re right," he said with an apologetic smile "I wasn’t looking where I was going."

"It’s ok, I can tell you’ve got very many responsibilities around here."

"I’m a prefect, that’s why I’ve been so busy today," He explained and changed the subject "I didn’t see you on the train."

"I stayed in a cart most of the way there, met a girl called Marlene, she’s lovely."

"You met Marlene?" He asked, surprised. "She’s also in Gryffindor."

“Our year too, right?” He nodded in response. “Where are we going?” You asked as you walked alongside him. 

“Great hall, I just need to meet with some of my friends first.” You nodded and followed him all the way to a hallway, two boys waited there for him. 

“Moony!” Said the tallest of the two as soon as he saw Remus, he was wearing a pair of round spectacles and had relatively long messy hair “Took you long enough.”

“And you brought company,” said the blond boy, he’d been the first one of the two to notice you. 

“Yeah, guys this is (Y/N), she just transferred here, McGonagall asked me to take her to the great hall and introduce her to everyone.”

You waved awkwardly from behind Remus and the shorter boy walked towards you “Peter Pettigrew, nice to meet you.”

“(Y/N) (Y/LN),” you responded with a smile as he shook your hand. 

“Hold up,” said Remus turning towards you “Your last name’s (Y/LN)? Same (Y/N) (Y/LN) Pads couldn’t shut up about on 5th year?” 

Pads? You wondered in your head as the only boy who hadn’t introduced himself spoke “She fits the description,” he said as he looked at you with curiosity “Hair, eyes, complexion, has to be her.”

“Do you by chance speak Spanish and French too?” Peter asked. 

Still slightly confused, you nodded. “It is her! Pas will go crazy when we tell him,” said Remus with a smile. 

“Right, I was forgetting,” said the boy with messy hair “I’m James Potter, nice to meet you,” he said with a flashy smile as he offered his hand for you to shake. 

You took his hand, and that’s when it downed you. These boys, they were all Sirius’ friends. “It’s nice to finally meet you, James,” you told him with a smile.

“Finally?” He asked, confused. 

You quickly remembered the letter you sent him hadn’t been signed with your name and decided perhaps it would be better to leave things as they were “Ah… Sirius told me a lot about you.”

“He’ll be thrilled when he sees you,” said Peter excitedly, to that you wondered which kind of thrilled? “That may not be today tho, if he’s in position.”

You shrugged “In position?”

James smiled mischievously and handed you a small umbrella “Can you take care of this for me? Until we see each other again?”

You grabbed the umbrella and nodded. He winked at you and turned to Remus who spoke to them “So, everything’s ready right?”

“Yes, Pads’ll do the heavy magic, we just need to make sure the lasting jinxes are not countered too fast,” responded James. 

“Fantastic!”

“Off to your prefect duties then,” Said Peter almost shoo-ing Remus “You have to be in position, too.”

Remus nodded and turned around to walk to the other side, turning back to you shortly “Come on,” he motioned for you to follow “I gotta introduce you to some more people,” he said with a smile.

When you arrived at the great hall it was almost already full of people. You saw Regulus staring at you from a table with kids all wearing green, he looked like he wanted to approach you but when Remus guided you to the Gryffindor table he sat back down “Hey everyone!” He said with a smile “This is (Y/N), she’s new.”

Marlene smiled and waved towards you “Here, sit with us.” She said as she and the red hair girl that had called Remus at the station both opened some space for you. 

“Mind taking care of her while I focus on some other prefect duties?” He said looking at the redhead. 

“Of course,” she said with a smile and turned towards you “Lily Evans,” she then pointed at a girl, “You’ve met Marlene, yeah?” She asked to which you nodded, “this is Mary,” she said pointing at a girl with the most beautiful curls you’d seen in your life. “That over there is Tom”, she said pointing at a boy with brown hair “And that’s Beth,” she said pointing at another redhead. She continued naming other students and then she started talking to you about the teachers, who all sat on a table right in front of the four tables with students that wore different coloured robes. 

“Do we always sit colour coded?” You asked as you stared at the other tables.

“Oh… yeah, we sit at our house’s table at meal times.”

“So houses don’t really mix?” 

“On classes we do.”

“But never on meal times?” She shook her head “So you only make friends in your house.”

“Not at all, I used to have a Slytherin friend, but sometimes the values of the people in their houses can become stronger than their original self.”

“I’m sorry,” you said when you noticed that the falling out had clearly hurt her. 

“Don’t be,” she said with a smile, slightly forced. “But you can make friends with other houses, it’s just a bit harder to get close to them.” She explained and then her face lit up with an idea, “You know, Remus and I, we started a study group last year, you could join us if you wanted to, that way you could meet more people.”

“That’d be lovely, thank you Lily,” you told her with a smile. 

By then the sorting ceremony had ended and Dumbledore stood up from his seat in the centre of the teacher’s table. 

“Hogwarts has always been a place of wonder, where magic comes alive and friendships are forged. Whether you are starting your magical journey,” he said glancing towards the first years “or returning to continue your studies, this is a place where dreams are nurtured and knowledge is expanded. We know we’re living in dark ages, the magical community is filled with hate and discrimination at the moment, but the school will not tolerate any instances of said hate or discrimination to be brought inside these walls. We are all witches and wizards, our precedence does not change that fact. We must remember the core values that make Hogwarts shine. Respect, compassion, and loyalty shall be the guiding principles that shape our interactions. We are a community, a single organism, and we must understand that an organism at war with itself is doomed.”

“Embrace the thrill of discovering new spells, uncovering ancient mysteries, and weaving your own story in the tapestry of magic, but remember to be kind, and loving towards your fellow classmates.” He paused and clapped his hands with a smile “May your time at Hogwarts be filled with magical moments, lifelong friendships, and unforgettable experiences. I have no doubt that each and every one of you holds within you great potential, waiting to be unlocked. Welcome to Hogwarts!”

At that moment plates started appearing right in the middle of all the tables and students started to indulge in them. It was truly a feast. “Is Muggle-born prejudice as bad in the UK as the media claims?” You asked Lily who cringed slightly. 

“Worse,” responded Mary instead “Some pure-blood kids’ parents are death eaters,” she explained “They follow in their parents' steps and spread hate among the school. Last year a muggle-born boy was tortured so badly he ended up in St. Mungo’s, they never discovered who had done it.” She explained. 

“We always make sure to walk in groups,” Marlene explained “That way no one's ever completely alone, you don’t want to become a target of their hate.”

“But she’s a (Y/LN)? Your family’s pure blood right?” Asked Beth from the other side “I read about the history of Pure Blood wizards for a project last year,” she explained when everyone gave her a look.

“Uhh.. yeah.” You said with an awkward smile, remembering how your parents had made such an effort to hide your non-wizarding great-grandmother origins from all the records. 

“Still, she’s new, we’re better off if we stick to each other.”

You nodded “You girls know best,” you said with a smile and looked around, you wondered what would happen when you eventually saw Sirius. Would he even want to speak to you? He ignored your letters so I’d seem he wouldn’t, and you had gotten over him, or you hope you had, it’d been over two years. 

By then you looked around. Wondering where Remus and the boys he’d introduced you to had gone too, maybe they were going to skip dinner together or something. And then you felt it, a small drop of water falling on top of your right hand as you were taking a bite of mashed potatoes. 

You stared at it for a second before looking up and feeling another one fall right on your cheek. On the ceiling, the clouds were quickly turning grey, and more droplets of rain started to fall. Eventually, you heard the rumbling of some far-away thunder and saw some of the clouds shine with lighting. In the span of a minute, rain started pouring. Some students got under the tables, others walked in panic towards the doors of the hall. 

You took out the umbrella James had given you and opened it, covering yourself and Lily under it. 

“Why do you have an umbrella?” She asked you,  suspicion evident on her face.

“I… came from Wales, before taking the Hogwarts Express,” you lied “You know how it’s always pouring there.”

She nodded and huddled closer to you, and the two of you both stood in front of the table as you saw the rest of the chaos ensue. Some teachers were trying to use a spell to avoid getting wet but it did not seem to be working. McGonagall was desperately trying to stop the rain while Dumbledore stood there with somewhat of a diverted smile. He stood up and with a wave of his wand said “Finite Incantatem.” The rain stopped, you pulled the umbrella down and shook it to get rid of the small droplets still coating it, but only minutes later it started pouring again, even stronger this time. 

Dumbledore seemed puzzled, but that satisfied smile wasn’t gone, almost as if he was proud of the elaborate spell his students had created. 

Lily looked around suspiciously “I knew they were up to something. That’s why James didn’t even try to sit with me on the train!”

“James Potter?” You asked.

“You’ve met him?” She asked, puzzled.

“Remus introduced me to him and Peter before bringing me here,” you explained.

“Did they look suspicious?” She asked.

“I… wouldn’t know.” You responded. While you were pretty sure it had been them who caused the ruckus you were going through at the moment, you didn’t know how close Lily was to them, and you didn’t want to give her more reasons to think it had been them, which she already did. Who knows? She could’ve been the kinda person who would tell a teacher. And you certainly did not need to add any more reasons for Sirius to intensify his animosity towards you any further. 

“Witches and Wizards, this marks the end of our feast, please retire to your dorms,” Dumbledore’s voice boomed through the hall when he placed his wand on his throat to amplify it. 

Seraphina Nightshade, who Lily had identified as the head of Hufflepuff, walked towards her table "Alex, find the other prefects and take the first years to their dorms."

Alex nodded and went off to tell the rest. "I have to go find the first years,” Lily told you urgently. You nodded and walked alongside her. 

Out of nowhere, Remus caught up with the two of you "Hey again," he said with that dashing smile of his. Lily gave him a look and continued calling the first years. Once outside of the great hall, you closed the umbrella, bending it back to its small state while Lily and Remus made sure all the first years were ready. The Gryffindor head boy, Teddy Hawthorn, had given the prefects the new password to enter their house common room and sent them all but Remus and Lily, who would take the first years, to find the rest of the Gryffindors. Lily was at the front, guiding everyone while Remus and you stayed at the back, making sure none of the new kids were left behind. 

"I get it this isn’t what normal dinners look like?" You said, motioning to the chaos all around you. 

He laughed, "Let’s say it’s a bit of a special one."

As the entire group approached the grand staircases, you spotted Marlene and Mary, who walked along a couple of stairs above you. They were soaked, like most people around you, leaving the stairs very wet behind them. 

"Mind your step," Lily told everyone from the top of her stairs "The stairs are quite slippery, we don’t want anyone to trip."

Just as she said that a small girl that walked just in front of you tripped, her ring falling back a couple of steps. Remus quickly held her up, but the moment she realised her ring was gone she panicked. "It’s a family heirloom!” She said distressed. 

"It’s ok, I’ll get it," you told her as you walked back to find it. 

"(Y/N) wait!” You heard Remus warn but it was too late, the stairs were already moving. Remus jumped before the gap between the stairs was too big but by the time Lily saw what was happening it was too late. It would be impossible for you and Remus to catch up with them unless the stairs aligned themselves again. 

"It’s ok," Remus shouted at Lily, who stood a couple of metres away "We’ll catch up with you in the tower.”

She nodded and motioned for the children to follow her, but the little girl was still distressed looking towards you. You finally found the ring between a crevice and showed it to her. She seemed relieved, you then made a small spell and the ring started levitating, sooner than later it was swiftly landing on her palm. 

"Thank you," she said before running behind Lily and the rest of the first years. 

"That was really nice,” Remus said as he saw the little girl go "and reckless, you could’ve gotten lost"

You turned towards him "and here I thought recklessness was a particular Gryffindor trait."

He laughed lightly as he shook his head "Come on, we should arrive at the dorm room before curfew."

You nodded and followed behind him to another set of stairs, eventually, you found yourselves in front of a dead end. The stairs had also changed on Remus’ planned path “damn it,” he whispered under his breath.

"Plan B is not gonna work, aye?" You asked, leaning against a wall. 

He exhaled, "You don’t seem particularly preoccupied by being lost and not getting to the common room on time."

 "I’m new, I got lost, they’re not gonna punish me."You shrugged “Besides, it’s not as if I had planned the entire prank that got us here in the first place," you said that last bit with a knowing smile. 

"Are you trying to imply something?”

"Me? Whatever could I be implying?" You responded innocently “So… what’s plan C?”

“There’s a way to get there. But you mustn’t tell anyone about it.” You nodded and he guided you through a door a couple of steps behind, then he turned towards you again “Would you allow me to blindfold you?” 

You raised your eyebrows at that, with a little smile on your face “Buy me dinner first?” 

“Not like that!” He responded, surprised. “We’re gonna take a shortcut, it’s a secret passage.” 

“Mm… and if I know where it is, it won’t be so much of a secret…” 

“So…?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Of course you’re not gonna blindfold me Remus!” You retorted “A girl’s gotta know how to sneak around the castle too.” He stared at you for a second, as if trying to decide whether to trust you with the location of his secret passage. “Hey, if it makes you feel better, I solemnly swear I’m telling no one about your passage.” That line convinced him on the spot, but you didn’t know it yet, so you kept talking, presenting your hand in front of him, with your smallest finger raised and an innocent smile “Pinky promise?” 

He laughed at that. “This isn’t the Japanese Mafia,” he nodded towards your finger. 

“Why? You wouldn’t want to cut it off?” You said as you raised your finger to look at it up close, then swiftly brought it back down and turned to look at him “Anyway… Am I gonna have to excuse myself for getting lost, or are we going to take your secret passage?”  

He smiled at that, he kind of started to understand why Sirius was absolutely obsessed with you when he came back from that summer in 5th year. “All right, let’s go.” You smiled at that and followed behind him. He took you all the way to the end of the hallway where a giant painting stood. Besides it, a shield with two swords crossed in the middle, like a coat of arms. 

“Sneaking about again, Mr. Lupin?” Asked the old wizard staring at us from the painting “And you bring company,” he added suggestively.

“Not today Oliver,” Remus complained as he pressed a button on the hilt of one of the swords, causing the shield to separate from the wall, opening a relatively small hole. 

“That’s the secret passage?” You asked, looking at the dark passageway that seemed to extend from the other side of the window-like hole. 

Remus nodded “Is either that or we go wait until the stairs decide to change for us.” 

“Fine then,” You said as you climbed through the wall and pulled your wand from your pocket, whispering “Lumos.” Remus was just behind you and once he was inside, the shield closed the hole in the wall. 

“So…” you said, scooting out of the way to let him take the lead “Which way to go?”

“It’s easy, we’ll have to go up some stairs tho,” he explained before he started walking, with his wand raised high to show you the way. He took a couple of lefts and then you went up a rather long spiral staircase. “We’re almost there,” he said. “We need to get out of this passage and take another one before we get there.” 

“Do I have to swear I won’t tell anyone again?” You teased, he gave you a look and then shook his head with a small smile forming on his lips. “Just wanted to make sure.” 

By then you had reached a dead end, he whispered something onto the wall and it moved, letting the two of you out. But just as you got out of the passage and onto the hall, you crashed into something. But there was nothing really there. Until there was. Somehow you had stepped on Jame’s cloak and it had slipped off of him and Peter. 

You were very surprised when you saw them appear out of nowhere until you noticed the cloak on the floor. Picking it up, giving it a look and handing it over to the two of them. James took it. “You’ve got an invisibility cloak?! Where did you get it? I’ve been trying to get my hands on one for ages, but the spells on them are rarely any good, I’ve never seen one as good as yours.” 

“Uh… it’s a family heirloom…” 

“Oh, you’re so lucky!” You said and then, you realised how the rain prank had lasted so long “It all makes sense now! That’s how you managed to counter Dumbledore’s spell. You were close to him! You used your cloak to hide from the people and did a close-range counter spell, Dumbledore’s magic didn’t even reach all the way to your spell caster.” 

“You told her it was US?!” Peter asked Remus, looking completely betrayed. 

“Remus? No! I assumed it was you when James’ umbrella became useful!” You told them, and then looked at Peter “You confirmed my theory now, tho.” 

James punched him lightly on the arm in reproach “Ouch.” Peter complained and rubbed his arm as Remus walked closer to you. 

“You cannot tell anyone about it,” he said seriously. 

“Why would I? It was a great prank! You could’ve added chaos by having toads raining too but I guess the spell would’ve been a bit more complicated.” 

“That would’ve actually been great!” Peter agreed, forgetting all together he had been the one to out them. 

Then you heard steps from the end of the hallway “Someone’s coming,” you warned.

“Quick, let’s get out of here.” Said James as he pulled a tapestry from the side and motioned for you to get in. 

Once deep in the small aisle, you decided to ask the question you’d been thinking about since Remus guided you through the first passage “So… How do you guys know so many ways to sneak about? Are you in some kind of secret club?” 

“We’re making a map, so we explore the castle a lot,” Peter said casually which earned him another punch, this time from Remus. 

“Might as well tell the new girl all of our secrets, right mate?” James complained.

“I guess I’m trustworthy like that.” You said with a smile, even if the dark passage wouldn’t really let any of them see “Besides, it was you who gave me the umbrella.” 

“Yeah James, you gave the girl the umbrella,” Peter retorted. 

“I was trying to be nice,” he explained, “she’s new.” 

“It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone, about your prank, or about the fact that I was sneaking about with the… What? Hogwarts gang of pranksters?” 

“That’s a terrible name for a gang,” Remus said. 

“Says the guy with MOONY as a nickname.” 

“I swear she’s been here for like 3 hours and she picked up on half the things we’ve done,” James said, pinching his nose. 

“Also Sirius mentioned his friends and he liked making pranks in the school at some point,” you said remembering how he’d told you about a particular prank a few days before you sneaked onto the zip line park “When we were on talking terms.” 

“On talking terms?” Asked Peter, but by then you had already arrived at the end of the hallway and Remus got ahead of him, shushing him before looking around and motioning for the three of you to follow behind. 

“Mystic whispers,” he said to the portrait of a fat lady who opened up to let the three of you into the Gryffindor common room. 

Regulus’ letter, 

Burned by (Y/N) without opening. 

July 23th, 1974 Dear (Y/N),  I know you may not want to hear a word from me, but beseech of you to do so, for it is imperative that you lend me your ear. First and foremost, it was never my intention for my progenitors to discover our clandestine affair. I had resolved to provide a cloak of secrecy to shield you and Sirius from their prying eyes. However, an owl arrived to my father, telling him his offspring had been seen in a witchcraft emporium within the city limits, it enraged him. With righteous indignation, my father directed his scrutiny towards me, inquiring as to your whereabouts. I resorted to our story, how you’d gone to a broomstick race with Sirius, as we had plotted. Yet, to my great chagrin, he had already acquired knowledge of the falsehood, detecting the mendacity inherent in my words. Compelled against my volition, I found myself partaking of a draught, undoubtedly Veritaserum, rendering me incapable of withholding the truth. At that moment, the weight of guilt settled upon my conscience, eclipsing any previous instances of remorse in my life. Providentially, I managed to refrain from implicating your involvement, particularly as the collective assumption posited the culpability of dear Sirius.  Despite your impassioned plea, reverberating across the wooden deck, beseeching their cognizance of your agency, I, alas, found myself bereft of the fortitude to voice your pivotal role. The notion of subjecting you, dear (Y/N), to the punitive machinations my progenitors habitually employ proved an insurmountable ordeal. I could not bear the prospect of witnessing my parents inflict their customary retributions upon your personage. I know their punishments. I do not want you to know them too.  Perchance I observed my mother consigning some of your letters to Sirius to the scorching fire, ensuring that he refrained from indulging in the forbidden act of writing you back. They harbour an unwavering resolve to preclude him from "exerting undue influence" upon your vulnerable disposition. "For as long as you dwell within this house, the act of inscribing correspondence to her shall be verboten," Mother uttered with resolute conviction. Devoid of alternative recourse, Sirius succumbed, he was forced, a spell was cast on him. Ah, Mother, she can be wicked if you do not abide by her volition.   I beseech your clemency, dear (Y/N), for the manifold grievances that have befallen us. I fervently pray that you shall not harbour enmity towards Sirius and myself, for the prospect of such estrangement would be anathema to my very soul. I hope this letter finds you in good spirits and the finest of health. With utmost sincerity, Regulus Arcturus Black

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A/N: Most Poly!Marauders fics are oneshots, where the relationship between characters is already established, and they're all happy and pleased with it. No issues, no drama, but I WANTED the drama. Couldn't find it, so I set myself up to write the story behind the stablished relationship. I wanted to know how they started dating each other, the jealousy, the will they won't they, because getting into a poly relationship can't be an easy task, and I wanted to explore that story. If you're interested: Welcome to Gilded Constellations!

[transmascaraa]

!lyney and lynette bday special!

since it was your bf's and his sister's bday, you decided to surprise them with something...

bf!lyney x gn!reader (ft. lynette and freminet)

author's note: HAVE YOU SEEN HIS BDAY ARTTT?? BABYGIRL IS ADORABLEEEEE😭💗 anyways i hope you guys like this cuz i tried my best to do something special for his(and lynette's) bday and yeah👍

"happy birthday, magic man!"

-it was finally that day.

-the 2nd of february.

-your boyfriend's birthday, lyney, and his twin sister's, lynette.

-you and freminet, their younger brother, had been planning this surprise for weeks now, you needed it to be perfect

-they really deserve it, even more than that

-so, as for what you and freminet got lynette...

-you got her a fancy dress, some cute hair clips, and a cat plushie, that looked like her!

-you were confident that she'd like it.

-and as for lyney...

-a bouquet of flowers. roses. all kinds, all types, roses.

-lynette and freminet told you that his favorite flowers are roses but told you to blame it on the little birdie.

-you, separately, also bought him a fuzzy warm red blanket, but sprayed your perfume/cologne on it, so it reminded him of you.

-while the both of you bought him his favorite candy, to which you were sure he would love!

-and finally, you and lynette planned out a perfect date for you and him.

-this is how it went...

-"hey, lynette, so i thought about bringing him to an expensive date with me, what do you say?" you asked her while sipping your tea.

-"how expensive are we talking? $100-$200 or like you eat money for lunch?" she asked, glancing at you from behind the teacup.

-"hmm... like... we eat money for lunch." you replied, smiling innocently.

-"alright... i recommend "gâteaux de coeur". it's very expensive, and that's why there's not much people there. it'll be worth it, i think." she suggested. (help i used google translate for "heart cakes" is it correct???)

-"i'm on it!" so you were already reserving the seats...

-a bit later, you decirated your whole entire house.

-gifts everywhere.

-with the help of freminet, of course.

-the two of you set up everything, and then freminet called them to come tomorrow.

-anytime.

-and so, tomorrow came soon.

-lyney and lynette rang the doorbell, but nobody opened it.

-you and freminet hid behind the couch, with confetti ready in your hands.

-"hellooo?" lyney said as he opened the door. it was unlocked.

-"happy birthday!" you and freminet jumped out when they came in, blasting the confetti everywhere.

-"o-oh... wow... thank you..." lyney could barely speak, he was left flabbergasted by this.

-he was so caught off guard that he had no mask on anymore. pure shock.

-"woah... thank you, you two." lynette added. she's usually there with a neutral expression on her face, but she was surely surprised this time.

-so, after talking a bit and eating some cake...

-freminet and you gave them the gifts. they opened them, all 4 of you sitting on the floor in a circle.

-first, lynette opened her presents.

-"i love these... the plushie... it's cute. and the dress is nice too. and these hair clips will come in handy." she said, thanking you both.

-and then, lyney opened his.

-he saw the gifts, and just buried his head in your thighs. he was blushing hard.(most normal lyney behavior)

-"thank you..." was all he muttered, inhaling your scent from the blanket that he put close to his chest, and your scent itself...

-it was the best birthday he could ever ask for...

~~~~~

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS

IT'S SO CUTE

HELP I LOVE LYNEY

[irkimatsu]

Can you do a husk x fem reader where she’s also a cat demon (no wings, just cat) yet she’s the epitome of “golden retriever” As if her personality was golden, she’s extroverted and caring and so so bubbly (even more so than Charlie). But then one night, crying is heard from her room and husk hears it and she’s insecure of her body because of how skinny she is?? She has curves yes but that doesn’t make her feel better at all and she’s always comparing herself to others and how she could be better!! It’s just overall angst with fluff please :( 🙏

(Live laugh love you sm !!)

Okay, so, first off, a confession - I am, uh. Not skinny. I am far from skinny, and not only that, I'm in the business of taking skinny characters and chunking them up. Have you seen some of my posts about Overlord Husk?

All that to say that I'm not used to writing skinny characters, and "skinny character insecure about their body" is an absolutely foreign concept to me. I tried my best, though, and I hope I hit the notes with this that you needed!

About 1.5 words. Primarily SFW but Husk gets a little handsy toward the end. One-sided Husk/Angel from Angel's side, but Angel's graceful about it, there's no ship bashing here, I still love Angel and he's still one of Husk's best friends.

---

“Husky!”

Husk has barely made it into the hotel lobby, and you’re already clinging to him, your tail wagging furiously.

The tail wagging is strange for your species; you’d reincarnated in hell as a gray tabby cat, a creature known for being moody, standoffish, even a little prissy. But that wasn’t who you were in life, and it’s not how you are in death, either. Husk realized it immediately upon meeting you, and at first he wasn’t a fan of your wild energy, but you managed to grow on the old man’s heart soon enough. He appreciated how young you could make him feel, and how much you reminded him that the best years of his life weren’t as far gone as he thought.

“Hey, hey!” he says, laughing, a far cry from the Husk who would have snapped at you to get off of him a few months ago. “I missed you too, babe!” He gently hugs you back, giving you a couple pats on the back before stepping away. At first you would have been hurt by the lack of enthusiasm, but now you realize that he’s simply not comfortable with too much PDA. He’s perfectly affectionate behind closed doors, and that’s what really matters.

“Damn, I need to find someone who pounces me like that when I get home!” Angel says with a laugh. Shopping bags dangle from all four of his arms, and he’s wearing a pair of sunglasses you don’t think you’ve seen on him before.

“Did you guys enjoy your boys’ day out?” you ask.

“Sure did!” Husk says as he holds up his own, much smaller shopping bag. “Had as much fun as you can when you’re clothes shopping with Angel for three hours, anyway.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t like me showing off outfits for ya,” Angel teases as he sways his hips. “I know you were staring at my ass in every pair of shorts I tried on.”

“What ass?” Husk shoots back with a smile. “Don’t lie to me, you’re flat as the fuckin’ bartop.”

“Hm? I’m sorry, and whose flat ass has been on the cover of every adult magazine in hell, again?” Angel says, swaying his hips further.

“Hey, if the people want flat twinks, then good for them.” Husk returns his attention to you, and sticks his hand in the paper shopping bag. “That shop was real nice, though. I found a couple things for myself, and got you a little somethin’, too.” He digs around for a bit, before pulling out a small jewelry box and handing it to you. “Here. For my golden girl.”

You open the box and gasp at the sight of a golden choker encrusted with diamonds. “Husk! How much was this?!”

“Enough to be worth it,” is all the information he’ll give. “Mind if I put it on you?”

“Go ahead!”

He takes the box back and walks behind you. His claws graze your skin as he fastens the choker around your neck, and your skin prickles.

While he’s behind you, you’re still facing Angel. You bear no ill-will toward the porn star; you admire his confidence, and you know he’s been a good friend to Husk since long before you got here. For as much as they tease each other, Husk does genuinely seem to care about Angel and enjoy his outings with him; he wouldn’t have gone on that shopping trip if he didn’t enjoy the company at least a little, you’re sure. He hasn’t been subtle about his crush on Husk, but he’s also conceded his loss to you with grace, which only makes you appreciate him further. It’s not like Angel can’t provide any competition. Who would turn down the opportunity to date a famous porn star? You’re not even into his works, but even you admit that he’s gorgeous, with his slender build and strong legs.

You’re not built like him at all. He’s skinny in a way he works hard for, making sure every part of his body is proportioned just right for his admirers. He’s not just skinny, he’s healthy, and he glows from it.

Meanwhile, Husk is gently rubbing your bony shoulders, and you can’t help but wonder how he feels about the hard lumps beneath his palms.

“Turn around so I can see it?” he asks. You comply, and he responds with wide eyes and a whistle. “Beautiful.”

You’re not sure if you’re in the right headspace to accept the compliment. “Thanks,” you say anyway.

You spend the rest of the afternoon talking to Husk and Angel about their outing, and trying not to look at Angel too much.

—

Why are you crying about this? This is so stupid. Husk chose you, didn’t he? He met Angel first; if that was what he really wanted, they would have gotten together before you even showed up, wouldn’t they?

So why are you hiding under your blanket, sobbing and clutching your shoulders and wishing you looked like him?

A gentle rapping noise interrupts your self-pity. “Babe? You okay in there?”

“I’m fine!” you call back, despite the tears streaming down your face.

“That didn’t sound fine.” Damn him and his ability to read people. That’s what you get for dating someone who doesn’t like backing down from someone who’s clearly in denial about their own feelings. How dare he care about you like this?

(You’re glad he cares about you. You just wish he’d let you have that denial.)

“I’ll be right there,” you say, knowing he won’t leave now that he’s heard you crying. You untangle yourself from the blanket cocoon you’ve been hiding in, and you go to open the door for him.

“You look like shit,” Husk says as he closes the door behind him. Not the most romantic greeting, but he’s not wrong; your fur is stained with tears, and your makeup is running. Not a good look. “Come here.” He takes your hand, leads you to the bed, and sits you both on the edge of it. “Talk to me.”

You take a few deep breaths to make sure you won’t start sobbing mid-sentence. “Husk? Am I too skinny?”

Husk stares at you, dumbfounded. “Babe. Everyone in this hotel is built like a fucking twig.”

“Yeah, on purpose!” you say. “They don’t have bones sticking out, or sunken faces… they don’t look fucking starved.”

Husk still seems dumbfounded. “Have you looked at me recently?”

You don’t mind giving him a look. His soft fur, unintentionally tousled in such a perfect way, with tufts on his shoulders and chest that are so wonderful to tug. His yellow eyes that currently burn with sarcasm, but that can gaze at you so softly when the mood is right. His generous heart; it’s not something you can see, but you always feel it when you look at him. Whether it’s the choker you still feel around your neck or the time he always gives you no matter the hour of the day, you know he could never feel like he’s given you enough.

“You don’t think I look awful, do you?” Husk says. “You could tell me if you did. I ain’t under any delusion that I’m winning any beauty contests.”

“You look great, Husk!” you insist. “I’ve thought you were handsome ever since I got here.”

“Yeah? You don’t think I look like a withered corpse because I’m regularly too drunk to remember to eat?”

“No!” you say, horrified. “Why would I ever think that?”

“Because it’s true,” he says with a shrug. “I take shitty care of myself, I ain’t denying it. At least you’re tryin’. That’s just what your body looks like. That ain’t your problem.”

“But still…” You pull your legs up to the bed and hug them. “I wish I looked like Angel sometimes… he really likes you, you know.”

Husk snorts. “Yeah. I kinda guessed.”

“You could have been with him before I even got here. Why would you choose me over a gorgeous celebrity like him?”

“You’ve got a certain charm that he doesn’t have. I still like the guy a lot, but we’re just friends. He’s not as kind hearted as you, and he doesn’t appreciate quiet nights in like you do. He needs someone who can keep up with him… and I need someone who can slow down with me. Someone like you.”

At least he loves your personality…

“Plus…” Husk wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip. “I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said he had a flat ass.”

“Husk!” you squeal, his touch tickling your skin.

“Can I be a gross old man for a second?” he says with a smirk. “Because I love curves. Hips and ass are the best. Gives me something to squeeze.” Both of his arms are around you now, and he’s holding you close. “Sure, he’s perfect by some standards, but he ain’t my type. You, on the other hand…” He kisses your forehead and gently strokes your hair. “Don’t change based on what you think I want, okay, doll? I love you just like this.

Comparin’ yourself to others won’t get you anywhere. Just trust that I’m with you because I wanna be.”

[moonrisecoeur]

soothing - leon kennedy

a/n: (PLEASE READ) hey! this is moon! this post would not show up in the tags with the long and detailed warning i put on it, so i made that a separate post. please read this post first before you even look at this one (that post will have the normal info like what content is it and word count along with more notes).

—

leon knows you’re… obsessive. he’s noticed your harsh glares and you possessively holding his waist when you’re both out together. he doesn’t miss the way you talk to other people, especially other people you know would theoretically be leon’s type. he assures you that he’s yours, he belongs to you, that no one will never get to have him the way you do, but it doesn’t make those feelings go away for you; it only mellows them for a short while.

he can’t say he planned for his partner to be so insanely obsessed with him, but it does make him feel better sometimes. especially when he’s having really rough days. when he feels worthless, like the only purpose of his existence is to be a weapon for the government to apathetically throw at problems, you’re there. you remind him, in your own twisted little way, that he’s valuable to someone. even if it’s in a “i need you like i need oxygen so no one else can ever have you and no one else deserves to lay a finger on you i will cut their hands off if they try” kinda way.

the world is fucked up anyway, who’s to say he gets to judge moral character? you make him feel desired and wanted, so what if you’re not a good person?

he’s rather introverted anyway, so it’s not like he’s going out every night and meeting new people. combine that with low self esteem and trauma from, well, being leon, he’s drained and can’t be bothered to care if you’re a little too obsessed.

hell, his last ‘relationship’, if you could call it that, was with a girl who tricked and betrayed him time after time and yet he loved her despite it all. maybe he has a type for the bad ones.

he loves you now. he knows he loves you. he knew he loved you when you once risked everything to save him, and he knew you loved him when you got very brutal revenge on his behalf. he kinda likes your violent side when it works in his favor.

but he still tries to keep you from doing the worst that he knows you’re capable of. he knows if he said more than a few words, or god forbid smiled at any of his friends who you thought ‘wanted him’ (because why does literally everyone want to fuck him?) you’d lose it. he tries to keep your temper contained, so he plays nice, though it’s worth it to him.

to have someone want him so badly that they’d kill for him and do anything to keep him… the idea makes leon’s knees weak. he’d do anything to feel wanted and needed for you. the more you claim him as yours, marking your territory, the more butterflies he feels in his stomach.

you tell someone, “he’s mine, so either back off or i swear that i will fucking rip out your teeth one by one.” he watches them run away pitifully, before turning his attention back to you. you’re smiling at him, and bring your hand up to play with his hair.

“sorry you had to see that, know you don’t like it,” you say softly.

he brushes it off, because he always does. he knows you mean well (even if you don’t). he knows you only threaten others or act violently because you love him and he needs that love. besides, you’re so thoughtful for apologizing because you know he doesn’t like seeing this side of you (which is not entirely true but he did feel bad for that person).

one day, you stumble upon him in your shared room while he’s crying. he tells you it’s okay, it happens, he’s learned how to get through it by himself. you shake your head, noting that this obviously isn’t okay. you sit next to him on the bed, wrapping your arms around him, and you two sit like that for just a moment.

“you’re okay,” your voice stills the air, brings him back to reality, “you’re not in danger, and i’m gonna be here to protect you, okay? i’m here because i care about you, so let me care for you, baby.”

he nods with tears in his eyes, resting his head on your shoulder. he’s forgotten what it feels like for someone to really care, to hold him and tell him he was going to be alright.

after a moment, he’s able to get his breathing under control.

“thank you…” he whispers.

“of course, baby, i’m here for you. i’m always gonna be here for you, i care about you so, so much, leon. no one else will ever care for you the way i do, as much as i do,” you murmur, and he doesn’t seem to notice something glaringly wrong with what you just said.

he doesn’t notice the thoughts swirling around in your head, adoring how fragile he is right now, wanting him to always be like this so he’s always this vulnerable, this dependent on you. he can’t notice any of it. he just lets you hold him, and holds you back in return.

you hold each other until he starts to pull away first, rubbing his teary eyes with the back of his hand, “god, i- i’m sorry. jeez, nothing even set it off. one minute i- i was fine! and the next…” he trails off, and you tell him he’s okay. he’s allowed to be vulnerable and emotional with you. you like him like this anyway. or maybe you just like the way his blue eyes shine when he cries.

and you’re wayyy too overpowering just as a person for him to ever be in charge, especially in bed. sometimes it’ll be soft, just two lovers touching and fondling each other, gasping and moaning and kissing wherever possible. but sometimes your possessive side comes out. it happens the most when he does something you don’t like, i.e. ‘flirting’ with someone else (he was just talking and joking around).

he does like your possessive side though. he likes being pinned down, and if you think you’re not strong enough, trust me, you can put yourself in the right position to make it so he can’t get out from under you. or you could just handcuff him or tie him up, that always works, but there is just something about being physically held down and kissed until his brain shuts off that makes him into a perfect fucktoy.

he likes when you pull out a marker and write stuff like ‘mine <3’ or ‘property of y/n’ on him. especially if it’s with a permanent marker and in a place that people can easily see, on his wrist or neck. he feels claimed, owned, a sense of being property belonging to someone else, not himself.

despite loving your darkness, leon appreciates that you’re rather… soft on him. you take it slow so he has time to adjust, make his heart jump with love and affection every single time you praise him (which you do often bc how could you not? it’s leon, c’mon now) he knows you have it in you to be harder, to fully degrade and humiliate him if you really wanted to. you choose not to.

one day you come home, covered in what he can assume is not your blood. his stomach drops at the thought of what you did, and he goes through every possible interaction he had that day that could have made you do something so drastic, so terrible and cruel. he comes up with nothing.

“what… happened?” he asks, nervously. he tries to keep distance between his body and yours, but you’re closing in on him.

“killed two birds with one stone… literally…” you smirked as he takes a cautious step back, feeling what used to be butterflies in his stomach turn to this heavy sense of dread, “that girl that told you your eyes were ‘so pretty’ and… that guy that touched your arm like he wanted to fucking bite it. don’t worry, sweetheart. i took care of them.”

were you expecting him to thank you? for… committing murder? he’s… at best he’s disappointed and at worst he’s literally horrified.

and it’s terribly timed, but on a separate note? you look insanely hot covered in blood. maybe the feeling in his stomach is only half fear and half something else, or maybe one of his kinks is being afraid for his life. who knows?

you come closer to him, and he can’t find it in himself to ask you to stop approaching him, closing in on him like a predator does it’s prey, “baby,” you murmur to him, softly like you do when you’re soothing him when he’s crying, your hands both coming up to cup his face, getting blood all over his cheeks. your thumb brushes against his bottom lip and he swears you’re intentionally smearing blood on it, “it’s okay,” you say.

it’s not okay, dude. you just killed two people.

maybe you’ve killed more that leon doesn’t know about, and tonight was the night you felt like having him see you like this. you could have gotten away with it if you wanted to, and he would never have known, but you chose to let him find you like this, clothes ruined from how much blood splattered on them, that sadistic ass smile on your face.

you wanted this. you wanted him to see you like this. you wanted to take him like this.

you lean in, pressing a bloody kiss to his forehead (imagine whatever kinda scenario necessary that fits this height wise for u i’m sorry >.<) before leaning in to kiss his lips, both tasting the iron and feeling the wetness of the blood dripping down your chins as he touches you back gently, his hands caressing your arms as you hold him and landing softly on your hips, like he’s saying it’s okay, i accept you for the monster you are.

he knows it’s wrong, he knows he’s a good person and you’re not and there’s a clear line that you’ve brazenly crossed, but he can’t help the butterflies he gets when you’re the darkest, cruelest version of you. covered in blood and all, you want him. despite all his flaws, you want him. he can’t deny you, not when you’ve only ever soothed him when he has traumatized breakdowns and assured him that he’s more than just a weapon or a tool, that he’s loved and needed and wanted.

you press one of your legs between his thighs, forcing his legs open and he lets you, whining as you continue to kiss him, and your hand palms him over his jeans. he feels weak, cornered, and you know you’ve got him right where you want him when you lean to whisper in his ear, “mine.” and he whimpers pathetically, nodding fast as you kiss his neck just a couple times, gently and bloodily.

despite everything, you’re just so endlessly gentle with him that he can’t help but let you get away with this. maybe if he could just get the image of their faces out of his head, he could get over it. once you’ve made him cum three times in a row, his body on the brink of giving out on him, safe to say that’s when he finally forgets. he can’t really think much of anything.

“oh, sweet little thing, don’t you understand? i had to get rid of her, she wanted to get in the way of our love,” you say. and he’d just nod dazedly.

“o-okay,” he mumbles. his brain is foggy and your touch makes it hard to think, but if you say it’s true, then he’s inclined to believe you. clearly, you were doing the right thing by getting rid of her. obviously.

“and that poor boy, it’s too bad that he was a whore, wanted to grope your muscles so fucking bad, hm?” you smirk, “did you like it when he did that? when he touched you?”

“n-no, i-i only like when you do stuff like that to me,” he says he exactly what you want to hear, grasping onto you for support, knowing without you he’d fall apart, “please, i don’t care what you do or… or who you hurt because you love me! just please love me!”

“of course i’ll love you,” your tone softens, you take the victory with a smirk turned soft smile, brushing his hair out of his eyes behind his ear, “you’re so pretty when you’re obedient.”

conditional praise; truly the best way to manipulate him for example: “you’re such a good boy when you only look at me.” that’s his kryptonite, because leon thrives off of praise. being told he’s a good boy makes him giddy on the inside, even if he tries to control his reaction. praise is how you control him.

and after you’re done with him, you put your clothes in the washing machine, take a shower, and walk out like your normal self. he makes you both dinner and you cuddle him to sleep just like usual. though while you’re fast asleep, he lays awake, thinking about what just happened.

he’s always known this could happen, and maybe this isn’t even the first time you’ve killed someone because of him. he’s known for a while now that you’ve become cruel and violent when it came to his relationships with other people, but he can’t shake the feeling of fear deep inside his soul when he physically saw what you’re capable of.

even in your sleep, you touch is soothing to him, and he remembers that he doesn’t really have any better options. he’s convinced no one will ever love him as strongly as you do (not just because you’ve told him that but because again, he’s got low self esteem and you’re way nicer to him than he feels like he deserves).

does he just let you be? no, that wouldn’t sit right on his conscious. does he continue to try and curb your violent tendencies against his better judgement and morals?

or does he try to leave you? he thinks he knows you wouldn’t ever truly hurt him, and he wonders whether or not you’d let him leave if he tried. (he’s not going to, but he wonders...) he just… doesn’t see what else he would do. find someone else? they won’t love him like you do. be single? sure, and be miserable every day because all he can think about is your love, your touch, you.

“what do i do with you…” he mumbles to your sleeping form, resting his head against your chest, feeling the slow heartbeat pumping inside. he likes how it shows your humanity, your normalcy. the one thing about you that doesn’t feel so far away from him.

leon loves you. truly. he doesn’t want that fact to be overshadowed by how disproportionately and insanely you love him. he loves you, still cares about you, still wants to see you happy. you make him happy, in some ways, even if you really terrify him in others. you comfort him and soothe him, you assure him that he’s safe with he wakes up with nightmares from the horrors he’s seen.

he wants to care for you, wants to be the one to hold you when you’re sad and you’re having a bad day. somewhere deep inside his heart, he wants to protect you and keep you safe. even if he knows that’s absurd (because you’re a killer… god he can’t get over that..) he can’t help that his nature is to care for people. maybe that’s what drove you to such insanity in your love for him: in his heart, he never stopped caring about other people. he is the same selfless hero he always was. his softness and care for everyone around him is what made you fall for him… and what made you insane when it comes to your love for him.

despite how terrible you are, he remembers all that you’ve done for him, the moments where your softness and gentleness really showed. he loves that side of you the most. that’s the one he fell for, after all. but he’d be amiss to think that’s the only side of you, or to not acknowledge the other. your cruelty towards people other than him is a side of you just like your kindness towards him is a side of you. they coexist whether he likes it or not.

he comes to the conclusion that there is no sweet you without cruel you, and he must learn to love both or to love neither. he decides he’ll love both, but still maybe try to keep the evilness contained. maybe he can try to talk you out of killing more people.

and when he begs so pretty for you to focus on him and not on the girl trying to flirt with him at the coffee shop, how could you refuse him? if you pulling him away to suck dark, tender hickeys into his neck is the alternative to you killing that poor girl, then he’d say that’s a win-win.

[cherrrydragon]

➤ find something worth saving (it's all for the taking)

CHAPTER TWO: SPIDEY LUCK (GOOD OR BAD? YOU'LL NEVER KNOW)

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SUMMARY ↳ You're adjusting well, comfortable with your new life. Too bad your spidey luck came with you to this universe. He offers his arm to you, but you hold out palm. “You’re nice and all, but I’m not letting you know where I live just yet.” He gives you confused puppy eyes. “You’re cute, but not that cute,” you pat his cheek as you walk past him. He watches you walk past him, before remembering himself and calls out. “What’s your name?” “Not that cute!” You remind him. pairing: jon kent x gn!reader x damian wayne warnings: cursing, mentions of discrimination based on financial situation, a vague-ish sex joke wc: 2.7k

Setting up an identity for yourself is remarkably easy. Natasha taught you just about everything you need to know. To the world, you are now [Name] Stark. Tony Stark is an eccentric recluse from Queens, with a mysterious inheritance allowing for travel around the world. And you, his curious child are now old enough to find her own way in the world, starting in Gotham. It’s messy, but hopefully it can keep people off your ass for a while.

Hacking into the wealth of Gotham’s elite is easy enough, stealing little by little every day so that they don’t notice (they probably wouldn’t, anyway). You steer clear of anything and everything Wayne related. For now, at least, it wouldn’t hurt to get ahold of some of his tech down the line.

Walking down the streets of Gotham is something your sense may never get used to. It’s easy to hide feeling threatened by everything, but it’s not easy to stop feeling threatened by everything. While you are certain you can handle a few common thugs or muggers, you are not excited to face your first round of fear gas. If it comes down to it, you’ll rely on your suit to protect you from it… hopefully it can.

Getting to East End is easy enough despite all the leers you get. Selina Kyle’s territory is riddled with crime and misdemeanor as much as the rest of the city, but it’s one of the cheaper areas. You’re legally old enough to get your own place, and with the money you take and a job you can hopefully find, you’ll be able to get by alright. As a hero, you should probably feel bad about stealing, but it’s not like millionaire’s and billionaire’s need a couple hundred dollars.

You walk into the rundown building, surveying the interior. It’s certainly seen better days, if the ripped up wallpaper and stains in the carpet are anything to go by. There’s no one at the front desk, so you ring the little bell and wait. Tapping your foot, your thoughts wonder.

You’ve been thinking about enrolling into Gotham Academy. It’s risky, since Robin goes there (you looked it up earlier, he’s around the same age as you), but you know that school has damn good funding, and good funding means a good lab. A lab or workshop is essential to you as a Spider.

A hobbling old lady stumbles out towards the front desk, her smile is sweet. “How can I help you, dear?”

You put on your best unassuming smile. “I’d like to sign a lease to rent out an apartment here.”

“Sure, hun. Just give me the deposit and it’s yours.”

You’re taken aback. “Surely it’s not that easy, miss…?” You prompt.

“May. Listen kid,” she leans in. “We don’t ask too many questions ‘round here. I can spot a troubled kid from a mile away.”

Of course her name is May. You smile, awkward. “I’m eighteen.”

“Eighteen is nothing on my years, girl.”

You inhale and grasp your hands together. “Well, I know better than to look a gift horse in the mouth. When can I move in?”

May grabs your arm and leads you up the stairs. “First door on the right, third floor.”

The apartment is in one piece, only some cracks in the walls. There’s a distinct smell in the air, but you’ll make yourself used to it. There’s some furniture left behind by the previous owner (a bed too, but you’re definitely replacing the mattress). It’s quaint, for Gotham.

“I should warn you, a lot of stray cats come and go. Don’t be afraid to feed ‘em, they’re already coming back anyway,” May huffs.

You smile discreetly. “I got it.

“I would’ve thought you’d lose interest in those things by now.”

Growing up you dabbled in one thing to the next. Gymnastics, volleyball, cheerleading. At one point you wanted to go to space camp, but didn’t want to be away from your aunt and uncle. Your interests come and go, never staying long, but your love for comics has always been constant.

“I’ve been fighting for my freedom since day one,” you jest.

Aunt May sits down next to you. “You know how rich I’d probably be if I got all the money back from buying you those things over the years?” She leans in, whispering, “richer than Tony Stark.”

You snort. “No one’s richer than him.” You pause, thinking. “Actually, Bruce Wayne might be.”

“Is that the Manbat guy you’re reading about?”

“ Batman , May.”

She kisses your head, grabbing the comic out of your hands. “Well, you know what they say. Bad kids who don’t go to sleep at bedtime get snatched up by Batman and his bird sidekick.”

You lean back against your pillows, wrapping yourself up in your blanket. “No one says that.”

“I do. Goodnight, tiger.”

The past week you’ve been making moves. You land a job as a waitress in a nice little cafe around the corner, and you’ve settled in nicely into your apartment. You find out May likes her coffee 2 cream no sugar and she religiously watches telenovelas. On top of that, you’ve made friends with a black cat you’ve affectionately named Nari.

“Alright K, show me past entrance exams for Gotham Academy.”

Uploading Karen into the laptop you bought allowed for you to multitask much more efficiently. You’re trying to emulate an environment you’re familiar with, like FRIDAY back at the Tower, but you have nowhere near the same budget as Tony does. You sigh. The entrance exams for GA are in a week, but you’re not too stressed. You started taking online classes when you moved into the Tower, and breezed past them like it was nothing. You graduated high school 2 years earlier than normal (you could’ve done it in one, but Tony insisted on human interaction (even if you only got it at dances and other school events)).

Looking over the options pulled up, you scoff. “This is shockingly easy for such a prestigious school,” you murmur.

“Perhaps you are just more gifted than them, [Name].”

You coo, “always my biggest fan, K.” You close the laptop, not before transferring Karen into an earbud formed from your suits nanites. “I think I got this in the bag.”

The bells on the cafe’s door ring as you enter. “Hey, cutie,” you flirt at your manager, a woman with 3 kids and a husband (but damn if she isn’t fine).

[Name],” they greet dryly. They put the spoon they’re cleaning down. “Sam’s gonna be late, some lunatic died on the tracks and their ride’s been delayed.”

You hum, having gotten used to Gothamites and their disregard for the weird shit that happens in their city. “What an asshole.”

The morning passes slowly. You spot some stressed folks hunched over their laptops and an old red-head guy reading through the morning paper. The door chimes, signaling somebody’s entrance.

“Welcome to Carrie’s, what can I get you?” You drone, not looking up from the game of Crossy Road you’re definitely not supposed to be playing while on shift.

“Just a small vanilla latte, please.”

You hum, typing it up. “And a name for that?” you question, grabbing the small cup. The young man has wind-swept black hair. He’s got big ole blue eyes, the type that remind you of childhood innocence. His stature is casual and unassuming, but you can see the strength he hides under that big sweater he wears. He almost reminds you of–

“Jon,” he smiles kindly.

Jonathan motherfucking Kent goddammit.

You muster every ounce of will you have to prevent your heart from speeding up, lest he hear it. You scribble his name with tactically careful hands. “It’ll be right out, sir.”

Jon huffs goodnaturedly, waving his hand. “Please, you don’t gotta call me sir. Jon is fine, if you’re comfortable.”

You smile, “sure thing, Jon,” and let your eyes widen when you turn around to pass the order to Sam. They look at you odd when you hand them the cup, but make it without a fuss. They’re weirdly good at seeing through people. “Is he real cute or something?” They ask.

You’re not sure if Jon always uses his super hearing. You imagine he doesn’t out of respect and not wanting to intrude, but you know he’s probably always got an ear out for trouble. Even so, you’ll be caught dead before he has the chance to hear you geek over him.

“Mid,” you scoff, like a liar.

Stupid spidey luck, you swear. Maybe this universe is sentient and is out to get you for real. Jon Kent is, by all means, a cute nerd, but he’s also Superboy . With super strength and laser eyes. Maybe you should, like, break into LexCorp or something. Having kryptonite on hand doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

But maybe you’re just getting ahead of yourself. You take a deep breath, relax , you. You’ve got training from the goddamn Avengers . You got this in the bag! No need to jump the gun. 

Sam takes the order to the front and calls out, “Small vanilla latte for Jon?” Said Jon walks up to the counter, taking the cup and his eyebrows slightly quirk up. Your super hearing picks up his mutter of, “spelled it right…” as he walks off.

“Nervous for the exam?” Sam hums, messing with your earlobe.

“Nah,” you scoff. “It looks like real easy stuff.” You’re more worried about the kind of kids that go there. You’re not foolish enough to think that everybody will be welcoming to a scholarship kid. You’re just thankful you can afford to not look like you’re living on the streets, ‘cause you’re sure at that point you’ll get bullied relentlessly. Nevertheless, your feelings aren’t so easily hurt.

Sam points a finger at you. “Don’t let nobody bully you, those good-for-nothing rich kids wouldn’t last a day out there in the real world. They probably wouldn’t have gotten in without their parents' money anyway.” They grab your shoulders, looking you in the eye. You raise your brows. “I’ll never forget that you did my college level algebra work for me. Seriously, I’ll start paying you to do my work.”

You take their hands. “It’s not a good idea to cheat through college when you’re trying to be a Vet. Probably.”

“I’m saying that you’re way smarter than those losers. They got nothing on you, babes.”

You smile, winking. “I know.” Their smile is sharp. “What’s your beef with the rich anyway? Besides the fact that they’re cheating at life.” You ignore the fact that you technically were rich, in this life and the last.

“Until Bruce Wayne pays my tuition, rich people are useless. All of ‘em.”

Carrie lets you off early to take your exam, and you’re sent off with encouragement all around. Karen guides you along the way, speaking into your ear. Humming a song under your breath, you almost miss the hand reaching out to grab you. You grip the offender’s wrist and whirl around to face them.

It’s Jon. He’s looking at you with wide-eyes.

You furrow your brows. “The fuck, man? Don’t go grabbing people in Gotham.”

His eyes widen even further, hastily removing his grip around your arm. “I’m sorry! I’m really sorry. I just heard you talking about the entrance exams. For GA right? I know the way, I can show you.”

You look him up and down. “You were listening to my conversation? How? You were, like, across the cafe.”

He sputters. “I didn’t mean to, I swear! I just thought I could…” he hesitates, now realizing how weird this is, “...help. And I have really good hearing. Normally good, anyway.”

You stare at him. How is this absolute loser (loving) Superboy? You chuckle. “You’re definitely not from Gotham, are you?”

He relaxes at your smile. “No, is it obvious?”

“Very.” You hook your arm around his. “Lead the way, hero.”

His face flushes, but ever the gentlemen, he doesn’t shove you off. He actually seems to lean into your touch. “So,” you tut as the two of you begin walking, “where are you from, then?”

“Metropolis. I grew up in Smallville for a while though, know it?”

“Kansas, right?” He nods.

“So, was it my dashing good looks that called your name or a biological need to mate?”

He chokes on nothing. “I mean, normal people don’t approach like you did. I know you’ve never seen a beauty like me, but seriously, this whole thing is kinda creepy,” you hum.

He kind of just stares at you. You stare back, and he breaks and chuckles breathily. “I mean, you are pretty cute,” he flirts. Your brows raise in surprise, smiling pleasantly in surprise. “I don’t know, I just like helping people. I’ve always felt the need to do so.” He trails off in thought. “It’s just… who I am.”

It’s fascinating to see the very essence of Superboy in the flesh. You cough and turn your head away. “Pretty corny, if you ask me. But…” you turn back and look at him. “I get it. I like helping the little guys myself.”

“Little guys?”

“Little guys.”

You stop upon the gates of the school, looming above you dauntingly. You turn to face Jon. “How do I look?” He gives you a scrutinizing look before motioning for you to do a spin. You’re wearing a simple hoodie and sweats with slightly beat-up sneakers. Your clothes don’t have to impress anyone, just your score. He thinks seriously, before nodding.

“Looks good to me.”

You chuckle, walking towards the entrance. “See you around, hero.”

“Your heart is racing, [Name].”

“How about we stop talking for a while.”

He watches you walk off. His eyes watch the sway of your hips before he shakes himself out of it. Then, he groans.

“I forgot to get their name.”

The room is cold and only filled with a few students. Their faces are nervous, and if they aren’t, their demeanor is. They’re obviously middle or lower-class kids. You root for them in your head. They’re also in nicer clothes than you are, whoops.

Like you thought, the test is super easy. You finish it far before anyone else, and sit in silence as the clock ticks. You flick the pencil in your hand around, twirling it. Sooner or later, you’ll have to start finding a way back home. You regret not paying attention when Miguel explained things to you. There’s also that whole particle accelerator thing. You sincerely doubt you’ll be able to build something like that yourself. You don’t have access to that kind of money or material, so you’ll find a way to build a watch. Hobie did it, why can’t you?

“Time’s up.”

You blink. The test proctor makes her way around the room, picking up tests as she goes. She gives you a subtle stink-eye when she makes her way to you, and you look her head on. She huffs and makes her way to the front of the room when she’s done.

“You’ll receive a letter of acceptance or denial in a week’s time.” She emphasizes denial and looks straight at you when she does. What a hater.

You walk out the school feeling light. The sky is still cloudy, as it always is. Then, you’re eyes spot a figure waving at you from outside the gate. It’s Jon. What the fu–

You pause in your tracks as he walks up to you.

“So? How’d it go?”

He meets your incredulous stare. “...what?”

“Were you waiting here the whole time?” The test was 2 hours long!

His eyes widened. “No! I went and did some errands. I just came back like five minutes ago.”

You huff in disbelief. “How’d you know when it would be over?”

“My friend has taken it before.” He probably means Damian.

He offers his arm to you, but you hold out palm. “You’re nice and all, but I’m not letting you know where I live just yet.” He gives you confused puppy eyes. “You’re cute, but not that cute,” you pat his cheek as you walk past him.

He watches you walk past him, before remembering himself and calls out. “What’s your name?”

“Not that cute!” You remind him.

He chuckles in disbelief. He’ll find it out.

notes: i didn't plan for jon to kinda be whipped with reader but i couldnt stop my hands. apologies if he's ooc bc i have not read a single dc comic and all my characterization of him comes through fanfics ive read LOL. i imagine he'd be a little flirty once he get's comfortable with his Superboy mantle.

also he's not like immediately in love with reader or anything, he's just being a teenage boy. he'll get a grip eventually. probably.

karen: why does superboy call you babygirl

reader: how about we stop talking for a little while - jon: how did you know who to spell my name without the h? most people spell it 'john'.

reader: *nervous sweating*

[girlreblogger]

also to add to my previous post, when i say blk yn go through crazy situations im exaggerating but i mean (“cause me personally!!!!!!!!!!!”) allowing the character to be treated in certain manner and be put in “awkward” positions. i also want to say that the “situations” seem unfulfilling like i wanted to say in the first place.

because of the unsavory situations she is put in she legit has to have characteristics that are straight up unnecessary if the wellbeing of her character was prevalent. and i have to say that because of blk yn stories that it applies to. (and no ian talking abt how ppl be complaining abt yn being “ghetto” 😒)

drama, comfort, or for fun, is cool and dandy but it’s the same type of thing and i’m not tryna come for the plug stories like don’t nbgaf like omg i’m so tired of hearing bout them freaking stories.

to the ppl who still decide to ignore how damaging fr CERTAIN! blk yn fics y’all remind me of the ppl who support tyler perry movies simply because it’s for entertainment and “he’s telling a story” (that not everyone has)

yep. those things are true but an impact worse than good is being produced. like bffr.

and i feel conflicted by even saying that because some ppl obviously genuinely relate or find comfort in those stories but at what cost. like is comfort worth change and progression?

me rn:

some ppl just really don’t gaf and don’t care to want better. please don’t let the ppl who don’t gaf sway you. for the ppl who do, reblog nice fics or write. blow them up so other blk girls can find them. we deserve it.

there are so many blk fics where yn is not going through those things and if there is “drama” is solved or there’s a healthy resolve. (there’s so many blk writers who need to be publishing books fuck tumblr or ao3 and tryna get reblogs. with all that talent girl MAKE SOME MONEYYYY! YALL STUFF BE GOOD.)

i’m dead serious. why haven’t you thought abt it.

but yeah. it is what it is we have to put more work in to change as people in general. but i really just want my ppl to grow. ppl find comfort in fics for a reason. i really think a good balance of what everyone is looking for and needs should be found. i know ppl gonna feel like ppl telling them what to do but they prolly the ones who don’t want the change for wtv.. reason… ahem..

ppl feeling hit by what i said:

there’s obviously a problem and as a ppl! why can’t we just fix it. like at least try.

side note:

there’s so many ways to get drama. also the smut after arguing piss me off this is off topic cause it applies to a lot of ppl who make fics but like damn. y’all ain’t gon talk it out. and it be the most weird arguments and stuff and you wanna squeeze lemons after that???

idk that annoys me like everyyyy time? and i think smut after arguments can be well written but ….

anyways the blk ff community to damn big for us to be sitting here starving acting like we don’t have food in the refrigerator to make something.

get it together yall. youn want what’s in the refrigerator go get your keys and buy something.

i’m tired of this shit that’s why so many blk writers stop writing or ppl stop reading because it’s too much going on all for some damn fake characters we wanna imagine ourselves with.

and i know for some ppl it’s abt the followers and all that which i mean to each is own i mean

sigh i was tryna be proper and cordial but i really want better for us but it’s so many ppl who go too far or do too little. and some are so sheep that they go with someone else’s opinion too. you know you tired of all the toxic fics say sumn. you know you tired of ppl constantly bringing up yn being ghetto for no reason (that shit piss me off so bad i can’t. they be so close but so farr) say sumn.

me after thinking someone finna bring up how unnecessary struggle love/toxic/extra smutty blk fics are but they end up just complaining abt yn using aave:

anyways i’m ranting. i wanted to say what i felt.

muah

[oshinohoshi]

Oshi no Ko Chapter 162 thoughts

Putting aside my issues with the story and characterization, I like this chapter. It makes me feel things which is a strong suit of Oshi no Ko.

Sorrow, horror, and sweetness... it has a little of everything.

As an avid Ai stan, the parts with Ai hit me right where it hurts

Ai's smile below is everything. She loved those kids so much

I'm reminded of the bottom right art. Ai never did get to see their red backpacks but at least the little Hoshino family made happy memories together

Aqua looking after his sister is so sweet. It would hit harder if we had more of the twins interacting past vol 1 but it's still nice

I'm not sure how I feel about Aqua deciding he was reincarnated to protect Ruby. I can't quite put my finger on what's bothering me. Perhaps it's that he's once again making his life's worth revolve around someone else

Or that this disregards one of my favorite lines in the manga: "[God] brought two people who never had a mother in a real sense and a mother who gave birth to soulless children together"

There is a crucial element missing to Aqua's apparent life's purpose and her name is Ai

@aihoshiino's post explains this better than I ever could (thanks @insertusername99 for pointing this out to me)

LMAO I just read Claire's thoughts on the chapter after typing this and she brought this up too. Bc it's so true!

The art is so good. Mengo is amazing

HIKARU

He gets his own damn section because he's just so... AUGH

I'm baffled as to how killing Ruby would bring him closer to Ai

How does "the weight of his sin" help him manifest Ai's presence? Maybe his guilt over his involvement in Ai's death brings her into sharp relief through suffering and embracing his dark side amplifies that? I'm grasping at straws here

I still think his reaction to the DVD was genuine but if so, it feels like he should have had a change of heart

After learning Ai wanted to love him, why would he turn around and try to off their daughter?

Of course his logic is twisted, but it should work with what we know about him!

If you have thoughts, please share

Anyway, I want to compare Aqua's memory of Ai (left) to Hikaru's vision of her (right)

She looks ethereal in both. A fragile being. Ai looks over her shoulder smiling gently in Aqua's mind. She might turn away at any second but she's not gone yet. However, she has her back to Hikaru, beyond his grasp

In both panels Ai is not dressed as an idol. Those who love her remember her as she was when she wasn't on stage (or uhh that's what I want to say but I don't know what to make of Hikaru's view of her anymore)

Moving on...

Shadow Gorou. Until now he's been a manifestation of Aqua's guilt and self-hatred yet now he's dragging Hikaru to the bottom of the sea. Sure, I guess?

I'm probably wildly off the mark here, but it almost shows how harmful Aqua's attempt to kill Hikaru is. Shadow Gorou is scary

And despite Aqua's white stars, he looks horrified and in pain choking his dad. It doesn't look like a triumphant finishing blow

Given the giant moon behind Crow Girl, I guess we should stop calling her that as it seems that Tsukuyomi is not a stage name. But she'll always be Crow Girl to me

Next chapter (3 week break!!): Miyako is not having any of this dying to save Ruby bullshit. She will roll up on a motorcycle and pluck Aqua out of the sea using Ichigo's fishing pole. I have been predicting the fishing pole being a major player in the Hikaru/Aqua conflict for dozens of chapters and I know I cannot be wrong.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

DAMNN!!!! It makes me sad how Yves probably doesn’t celebrate his birthday because it probably reminds him of how old he has become 😭 But after rereading the birthday ask, I wanna do something for his birthday, like I’d honestly try to throw a little something for him, even if it’s just the two of us. How would he react to that? But then again I doubt he would tell us his birth date and would NEVER tell us the year so celebrating his birthday would probably be next to impossible. But dang I’d feel bad like being with this man a whole year and realizing like Omg I never got Yves anything for his birthday ☹️

Yves may not like to be reminded of his age, but he does love spending time with you. He knew that you would want to do something nice for him on his birthday. In that case, he would drop hints about his very special day.

Valentines Day; would be the day he chose to represent the day he was born. You would perhaps accidentally take a peep at his passport, Identity card or any seemingly valid documents that contained his alleged birthdate.

14th February, and he will be 34 this year.

He loves roses, jewellery, makeup, handbags, heels, heart-shaped novelty gifts and all things romantic. Yves is sure you would find an easier time to obtain them during heartbreak season.

You might be insecure because everything that's at least touching his standards is out of your budget. So you have to rely on creativity.

Of course, nothing is a surprise for Yves. He knows your works in progress, the trips to the photo printing store, the paper basket filled with rejected, crumpled love poem drafts, hours upon hours of perusing through the internet for cute birthday date ideas... your effort in preparing for it was already more than enough to please him.

Yves definitely loves seeing you try for him. To push past your worries and do it anyway, even if you are shaking out of fear from the thought of him being disappointed.

He would subliminally send you a message that it's not material items Yves is after; it's your company. Gifts and romantic gestures are nice bonuses, but not necessary.

But you're so adamant about doing something nice for his special day, and that warms his heart. So he lets you have your fun and healthy stresses on organizing a nice little dinner for him. Although, he will step in if you're pressuring yourself to the point of deterioration.

Comes the day of 'his' birthday, it's 12 in the morning. He's still awake in his office, typing away at his computer. Yves would appreciate it very much if you greeted him with a hug and a kiss, lightly scolding you for staying up so late but thanking you for your attentiveness nonetheless. If you live separately, you can give him a call or a text wishing him a happy birthday, and he will answer or reply immediately without fail. With some nagging that you should have adequate sleep at night. He doesn't hide the delight in his voice or face, though.

If you've been paying attention, the ideal birthday present for him is... you. Yves would very much rather pamper you instead as if it's celebrating yours, cooking up all your favorite meals, bringing you to your favorite places... but alas, it is your turn to spoil him with whatever you have in store.

You spent the last few days practicing how to cook something that you think is 'fancy' and 'expensive'. You emptied your pockets for that week but it was all worth it, you mastered making a dish that you thought Yves would like, you think. A cake you attempted to make from scratch, is obviously not made by a professional, but the love and care are evident.

Assuming you live with him, a perfect window of opportunity presents itself when Yves is suddenly extremely busy with work, so he has to hide himself in the office. You hurried to set up everything, the presents, the dining table, the candles, the food, and the plates. It was such a coincidence, that he's done as soon as you put your final touches on your dishes.

He would appear pleasantly surprised, tilting his head to the side and gracefully concealing the widest smile on his face with his manicured fingers. You can see his eyes glimmering out of joy, which in turn makes you feel proud and giddy as well. For the presentation alone, Yves is already sure to reward you handsomely.

You pulled the chair out for him, and he thanked you as Yves elegantly took a seat.

You sat down opposite of him, face and neck already covered in lipstick prints before even picking up the sleek champagne bottle. He found it adorable, you can barely afford the lower-end ones, yet you still try. He was monitoring your spending behavior and noticed that you're saving excessively for something, he is happy to know that you used it to get something luxurious for him.

His gaze never left yours as he clinked glasses with you.

Yves made sure to praise you for all your hard work, and he is exceptionally giggly today. Not because he thinks your efforts are funny, but because it's quite difficult to contain his admiration and fondness for you. And it is also because of the sight of you being decorated in his lipstick. He genuinely thinks your cooking is delicious, perhaps a tad bit too oily, salty, sweet, or burnt for his taste, or he simply didn't like that particular food. You wouldn't know, because it seems like Yves ate something that was meant for the gods. It was exquisite because it was made by you with loving intent.

Perhaps you're shy, a bit skittish, and blushing. You somehow thought writing romantic poems and reading them out loud for him to hear would be something he would be keen on. And you were absolutely correct. You could cringe at your own voice and work as much as you want, but Yves is cherishing it deeply.

He knows you would stutter when he sensually caressed you on your thigh, he did it anyway to see such a cute reaction from you. Yves would hold onto every word, listening intently and staring at you with such devotion.

Please don't take his peals of laughter at the end as mockery, it was purely out of glee and love for you, the ticklish feeling in his chest needed to escape somehow. Yves would pull you in a tight, but comforting hug, showering you with so much praise and affection, that you would think you're the world's greatest poet.

He would sit on his chair, crossing his legs, and adoringly watched you scramble to show him all your gifts. Predictably, they're all Valentine's Day-themed, rouge and hearts all around, his favorite.

You truly knew how to make him feel like a queen. Bouquets of fragrant roses, chocolates, even handmade crafts that you slaved over for him... they're all priceless and worth much more than anything in the world. He was slow and careful in unwrapping them, Yves everything, down to the strip of tape you used to keep the wrapping paper together, as intact as possible as they're going to be preserved in his compendium.

You gifted him an expensive lipstick in a shade that he would like. Such a wonderfully attentive partner you are, how could you have possibly known that he loves all things lip pigments? He must simply try it, so he did on the spot, using you as his little canvas.

Oh, he loves that hue on you. Yves made sure to test it out a couple more times, on your forehead, cheek, and lips. Yves would twist it back into its container, cap it, and keep it away before finally permitting you to leave his lap.

There's more, you scampered off into the kitchen. Leaving him alone to deal with his high for a while.

You emerged again with a crooked cake. The piping is uneven, it says "Hapy BDay Yves!!!" in crude frosting- you didn't think the spacing through, and hence it was horribly off-centered, and a singular, lit candle is stuck in the eye of the cake. It was perfection.

You watched him quizzingly as his emerald eyes began tearing up, droplets rolling down his cheek as he smiled wide. He daintily patted the tears away with his trembling fingertips, Yves was speechless and incapacitated by his extreme urge to squeeze you, his cuteness and aggression reaching debilitating levels.

He had to expel all that extra energy somehow, so he resorted to crying out of joy. Yves knew what you were about to do, he knew all that was going to happen, but he could never account for the overwhelm he would feel when you do something special like this. It's embarrassing to Yves, but he pushed that feeling aside and thought about how grateful he is to have you instead.

It would take him a couple minutes to compose himself, a handful of deep breaths before he is confident that he wouldn't bite you like a rabid dog.

You invited him to make a wish, and he did so silently, clasping his hands together and closing his eyes. Yves was so earnest and fervent that you would think he was saying a sincere prayer. Whatever he wished for, you notice there is that desperation in him for it to come true.

He cuts it with you, your back pressing against his front as he holds both your hands in his. Guiding the blade through the baked goods.

He asked if you and he could share a slice, and Yves would spoon-feed you and himself using the same utensils. It's much more intimate and romantic that way. And, maybe it would invoke some nostalgia too.

Yves is saving the best parts for you, be it the cherries, chocolate barks, sprinkles, strawberries... it's yours.

You wonder if he is having a fever because the hand that is holding your chin is unusually warm and his face is pink. He watched you with half-lidded eyes which you mistook as sleepiness and not lovesickness.

You beguiled him enough to earn yourself a night of heavenly sex. It's definitely not your first time, so you knew how fucking difficult it is to convince Yves to do that with you. And you knew how damn good he is in the bedroom.

Naturally, you're shaking in excitement as Yves gives you a nod as he sensually caresses you under your chin. Opportunities like this are rare, of course, you're frothing at the mouth thinking about what awaits you later.

He told you to unwind in the bedroom first while he cleans up. Yves didn't have to say a word more before you took off running.

Yves laughed to himself as he gathered the empty dishes, thinking about the vase he would be putting the fresh roses in.

This may not be everyone's ideal way of spending their birthday; ending the day by doing chores. But that's the way Yves likes it and he wouldn't change his mind for the world, he's stubborn in his ways and loves predictability. Taking care of you is his greatest joy in life. Which isn't all that surprising, Yves is a Taurus, after all.

[bloodsadx]

thanks to everyone who has sent me asks and such saying i understand how to draw for being nice and stuff. i'm going to ramble about some influence/process stuff below if you want to read abt it

this might read as some kind of artistic statement or defense or something but i like to talk about this kind of thing just in case anybody can ever get anything meaningful out of my own thoughts and practices. i got to where i am after a lot of careful consideration and spending time thinking about what i like in other people's art, just like anybody else that makes art to any serious degree.

my "style" is very much a deliberate series of decisions that i have honed into being very fast for my own pleasure and enjoyment because i am very inspired by people like king terry/garo magazine/the heta-uma style, keiichi arawi, inio asano, hiroyuki imaishi, toru nakayama, phil elverum (as a cartoonist), gary panter (who was a friend of matt groening and wrote an essay about selling out that is worth reading and did a lot of stuff with RAW magazine which is one of my favorite things to think about), DIY/skatewear brand t shirt cartoons, early MSPA hussie stuff, etc. a lot of my favorite artists walk a line between constant high effort and low time investment art; often contrasting elaborately planned perspective grids or high resolution rendering with simple cartooning. asano and arawi i think are very clear and famous examples of artists that use 3d rendering and photography for backgrounds while drawing very deliberate and expressive characters on top of them. toru nakayama is really inspiring to me because he, like toriyama, has a very deep understanding of form AND cartooning and has a way of making extremely densely crafted cartoons which feel visceral and almost like plastic toys you can pick up and play with on the page. also just one of my favorite colorists. and i think hussie and arawi and imaishi are all fantastic character designers with very strong understandings of designing art styles that convey information very quickly and deliberately; i think bryan lee omalley and jamie hewlett were also big early influences on me for the same thing- they all have art styles with very clear line/negative space proportions, strong shape language, etc, and for a long time in my life i have sought to grasp a similar understanding of these things. and then i think phil elverum's fancy people adventures cartoons and just like skate brands and "shitty" DIY drawings and stuff (the album art for nana grizol's love it love it is like burned into my brain forever; seeing basquiat paintings and poems in a museum when i was 15 made me feel whatever and crazy and etc) are just something that serve as a constant reminder to me that some of the most effective art is art that is simply fun to look at, especially when it comes to making comic and cartoon art. simplicity and joie de vivre are very important to me as artistic concepts.

and i mean, i do fuck with crazy painter dudes and shit too; i was huge into goya when i was 14 and had a print of the witches sabbath taped to my wall until i was like 22, i fw waterhouse & bruegel the elder insanely. i am like a sponge for most kinds of art and i do a lot of art research all the time. most of my first book was heavily influenced by compositional techniques from pre-raphaelite painters and the iconography of egyptian & greek wall art and especially especially extremely crowded gothic art and the concept of horror vacui.

but anyway, im not really insecure about my art, i know how much effort and time and practice and research i've put in, i definitely know my strengths regarding cartooning and stuff, and i'm even more aware of where my work needs "improvement" in order to be "commercially viable." i've been in multiple positions in the past several years of taking art seriously where other people have been dismissive of my art and i've seen other people fail to capture the energy & simplicity that i am able to get in my own art, etc.

for people interested in my Process and the things that i work on to draw the way that i do, the way i have gotten whatever skills i have has been mostly through drawing the same things over and over and over (toenail, cavity, pimple, gunk, making different expressions and doing different poses); i draw in pen MOST of the time, and i have for a very long time, and i make few edits, and i focus on keeping energy and confidence in my lines; i do perspective studies, i've spent a lot of time doing gesture drawings and environmental studies inside and outside. i draw a lot of movie frames and do color studies of youtube videos and stuff like that. i remember reading some kind of criticism of post-KAWS/street art infiltration of commercial art that artists now are most rewarded for drawing literally the same thing over and over and over like their hands are printers and that the main thing artists are then allowed to do within that context is express themselves through minor variations within that key theme; i don't think im THAT rote but it has definitely informed my perpsective on what i do and what i am interested in doing. on some level i have designed my art to be easily reproducible by myself because i want to make comics and sometimes even to animate my characters and that requires me to be able to draw a lot of drawings relatively quickly. this is another reason why character designers and video game key artists are such massive influences on me, takehito harada and akiman and toshiyuki kusakihara being some huge ones i've spent a lot of time doing studies of i didn't mention previously.

and because the main way i make money at this point in my life is through screen printing & reproducing my drawings as items for sale, i spend a lot of time making my art Distinct, Eye Catching, and Iconic, to the degree of instant recognizability even on a t shirt or a sticker from far away, and i try to make my drawings strictly legible and generally focus on communicating ideas and emotions through big thematic and emotional gestures and strong colors that can be easily separated. this is one of the main reasons i havent developed as strong of a rendering/coloring habit; that kind of stuff is difficult to color separate for the purpose of solo DIY screen printing. but i've spent a pretty decent amount of time doing that stuff, and i spend time studying forms regardless, with the lines that i do use. a lot of my sketchbooks are me drawing literally the same thing over and over slightly differently until i have something that i feel is a strong enough cartoon to make into a shirt or patch or sticker design that satisfies a litany of criteria i have for what i consider strong cartooning.

anyway that was a very rambling post but i hope at least people get something out of it even if its just slight entertainment from me blowing hot air out of my mouth for 20 minutes.