#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 ♡

[chelseaknoo]

90s Eminem x Victoria secrets model! Reader

Request: Hi, can I ask for a longer story (it can be short too if you prefer)? How about Marshal in the 90s with a Victoria Secret model, paparazzi catches a cute moment between them and Em's friends make fun of them and the fans and media are crazy to see a cute side of him, and then he reminds everyone at an awards show that his cute side is only with his girl...

Note:Sorry I couldn’t make it longer enough I hade to rush it

Marshall Mathers—better known as Eminem—had been your boyfriend for a few months now. The two of you meeting was nothing short of surreal, thanks to Dr. Dre’s matchmaking. Dre had noticed Marshall’s little obsession with you when he caught him flipping through magazines featuring your modeling work—Victoria’s Secret, Playboy, and others. At first, Dre didn’t say much, but when he saw how tongue-tied Marshall got every time your name came up, he decided to take matters into his own hands.

It all started the night Dre surprised Marshall backstage at one of his concerts. You had no idea you were about to meet the man himself, but Dre had convinced you to fly out, promising it’d be worth your while.

---

The room was dimly lit, a sharp contrast to the blinding stage lights that had been in Marshall's face all night. He had just stepped offstage after performing in Detroit, his home turf, with adrenaline still coursing through his veins. Dr. Dre was leaning against the wall of the dressing room, scrolling through his phone casually like he didn’t have a surprise up his sleeve.

“Yo, good set tonight, man,” Dre said, looking up.

“Yeah, thanks,” Marshall replied, wiping his face with a towel and grabbing a water bottle. “Crowd was hype. Detroit never disappoints.”

Dre smirked, tucking his phone away. “So, you remember how you keep talking about that one Victoria’s Secret model you like?”

Marshall froze mid-drink, side-eyeing his mentor. “What are you talkin’ about?”

Dre raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “Don’t play dumb, Em. I’ve seen your magazines. You’re always like, ‘Man, she’s so fine,’ every time her ad comes on TV. What’s her name? (Y/N)?”

Marshall turned red, scowling. “Yo, why you gotta put me on blast like that? I ain’t sayin’ nothin’.”

“Relax,” Dre chuckled, pushing himself off the wall. “I ain’t clownin’ you… much. Anyway, I might’ve done somethin’.”

“What the hell did you do?” Marshall asked, suspicion lacing his voice as Dre made his way to the door.

Dre opened it slightly and leaned into the hallway, waving someone in. “Yo, come on in!”

Marshall watched in confusion, his brows furrowing. The door swung open wider, and there you were—dressed casually but effortlessly stunning. It was a stark contrast to the glamorous shoots he’d seen you in, but somehow, it made you even more breathtaking.

“Hi,” you greeted with a warm smile, your voice soft but confident.

Marshall’s jaw nearly hit the floor. He blinked several times, convinced this had to be some elaborate prank. “Yo, what—” he stammered, looking between you and Dre. “What is this? Are you serious right now?”

Dre clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Dead serious. Thought I’d help you shoot your shot, man.”

“Wait… what?” Marshall was still processing, running a hand over his buzzed blonde hair.

You stepped closer, extending your hand. “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to finally meet you, Marshall.”

“Uh… yeah, yeah. Nice to meet you, too,” he said, shaking your hand like he’d forgotten how to function.

Dre leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, grinning like a proud matchmaker. “Told her you were a fan, Em. Turns out, she thinks you’re pretty dope, too.”

Marshall’s head snapped toward Dre. “You told her? Man, what the hell is wrong with you?”

“Relax, man. She’s here, ain’t she?” Dre shrugged, unbothered by the flustered rapper’s reaction.

You laughed softly, the sound instantly easing Marshall’s nerves. “He’s right. I wouldn’t have come if I didn’t want to meet you. I’ve been a fan of your music for a while now.”

“You… have?” Marshall asked, the disbelief evident in his tone.

You nodded. “Absolutely. ‘My Name Is’ is iconic. And your flow? Insane.”

Marshall chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. “Damn, that’s crazy. I mean… thanks. I don’t even know what to say right now.”

Dre pushed off the doorframe. “Well, y’all have fun. I’ll leave you to it.” He shot Marshall a knowing look before disappearing into the hallway.

As the door closed behind him, silence settled between you and Marshall. He shifted awkwardly, trying to think of something clever to say but coming up blank.

“So, this is your hometown, huh?” you said, breaking the ice.

“Yeah. Detroit. Born and raised,” he replied, finally managing to meet your eyes.

“It’s cool to see where you’re from,” you said. “You must love performing here.”

“Yeah, it’s different here. The crowd’s wild, but it’s home, y’know?”

You smiled. “That’s awesome. I can tell you’re really passionate about what you do.”

Marshall felt himself relax a little, the initial shock fading. “Yeah, I mean… music’s everything to me. Keeps me sane, y’know?”

You nodded. “I get that. Modeling can be pretty intense, too. It’s nice to have something that keeps you grounded.”

He tilted his head, curiosity piqued. “How’d you get into all that? Modeling and stuff?”

You chuckled. “Kind of by accident, honestly. I got scouted when I was younger, and it just took off from there. But I love it. It’s given me opportunities I never dreamed of.”

Marshall grinned. “Yeah, like meetin’ me, right?”

You laughed, and he felt a surge of confidence.

“Exactly,” you teased.

The two of you spent the next hour talking like old friends, the initial awkwardness replaced by an easy connection. Marshall couldn’t believe Dre had actually pulled this off, but he wasn’t about to question it.

---

Months had passed since that unforgettable night when Dr. Dre introduced you to Marshall. What started as a whirlwind of nerves and uncertainty quickly blossomed into something neither of you could have anticipated. Now, you and Marshall were inseparable—a happy, albeit unconventional, couple.

Tonight, you found yourself seated in a cozy corner of a trendy Detroit restaurant. It was one of Marshall's favorite spots, lowkey and unpretentious. He had invited some of his closest friends, including Proof and Denaun, for dinner. The table was filled with laughter and conversation, everyone relaxed as plates of food were passed around.

Marshall sat beside you, his arm casually draped across the back of your chair, while his other hand toyed absentmindedly with the edge of his napkin.

“Yo, this mac and cheese is fire,” Denaun said, holding up a forkful. “Y’all need to try this.”

Proof leaned forward, squinting at Denaun’s plate. “That ain’t better than my grandma’s recipe, though. Don’t even start.”

Marshall chuckled. “Man, Proof, you’re always hypin’ up your grandma’s cooking. I’m starting to think she don’t even exist.”

“Say that again, and I’ll have her make a plate just so you can eat your words,” Proof shot back, laughing.

While the guys bantered, you were focused on your own plate, cutting a piece of the steak you had ordered. You noticed Marshall glance at your plate, his eyes lingering.

“You want some?” you asked, lifting the fork toward him.

“Nah, I’m good,” he said, but his gaze didn’t leave the steak.

You smirked, leaning closer. “C’mon, try it. It’s good.”

Marshall hesitated, then leaned in and took a bite. “Damn,” he muttered, chewing thoughtfully. “That’s better than mine.”

You giggled, cutting another piece. “Want another bite?”

“Hell yeah,” he said, and you fed him again, much to the amusement of the guys at the table.

“Yo, look at this dude,” Denaun said, pointing his fork at Marshall. “Marshall out here bein’ all soft with his girl. Feeding each other and shit.”

Proof snickered. “Man, I ain’t seen him act like this ever. You got him whipped, (Y/N).”

Marshall rolled his eyes but smirked. “Y’all just mad ‘cause you don’t have someone feedin’ you.”

You laughed, deciding to tease him a little. “Aw, don’t listen to them, babe. They’re just jealous.”

“Damn right,” Proof said with a grin. “But seriously, Marshall, I never thought I’d see the day. You’re out here lookin’ like a Hallmark commercial.”

“Shut up,” Marshall muttered, his cheeks tinged pink.

As the evening went on, the teasing continued. But you didn’t mind—if anything, you found it endearing how Marshall was willing to show a softer side around you, even with his friends present.

After dessert was served, you leaned back in your seat, feeling content. Marshall shifted closer to you, wrapping an arm around your waist. Without warning, he buried his face against your chest, sighing dramatically.

“Oh my god, Marshall,” you said, laughing as you glanced down at him. “What are you doing?”

“Damn, this is comfortable,” he mumbled, his voice muffled against your skin.

The table erupted in laughter.

“Yo, what the hell am I seeing right now?” Denaun said, nearly choking on his drink.

Proof slapped the table, wheezing with laughter. “I can’t! Em, what are you doin’? You look like a baby tryin’ to nap.”

“Man, let me live,” Marshall shot back, though he made no move to lift his head. Instead, he tightened his hold on you, clearly enjoying the position.

You shook your head, your hand instinctively brushing over his short hair. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he said smugly, glancing up at you with a smirk before resting his head back down.

“Bro, you really just gon’ let him do that?” Proof asked you, shaking his head.

You laughed, shrugging. “What can I say? He’s comfortable.”

Marshall grinned triumphantly. “See? My girl’s cool with it. Y’all just mad.”

“Man, this is gonna be all over the tabloids if someone sees,” Denaun joked. “Eminem: Rap Legend or Cuddle King?”

Marshall finally lifted his head, flipping him off. “Keep talkin’, and I’ll show y’all who the king is.”

The table dissolved into laughter again, and you couldn’t help but smile. Despite the teasing, the moment felt perfect—a rare glimpse of normalcy and joy in the chaotic life you shared with Marshall.

As the night wound down, Marshall leaned in close, his voice low so only you could hear. “Thanks for puttin’ up with my dumb ass.”

You smiled, brushing your lips against his cheek. “Always.”

And in that moment, surrounded by laughter and love, you realized there was no place you’d rather be.

The next morning, the smell of coffee brewing in the kitchen filled the small house you and Marshall had been calling home for the past few weeks. You were scrolling through a magazine at the kitchen table while he stood at the counter, his back to you as he buttered a piece of toast.

“Man, last night was wild,” Marshall said, his voice groggy from just waking up. “I can’t believe Proof was clownin’ on me the whole time.”

You smirked. “To be fair, you did use me as a pillow in front of everyone. You were asking for it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, waving a hand dismissively as he turned to face you. “It’s whatever. It ain’t like anyone else saw it.”

Just as he sat down at the table, your phone rang. You glanced at it, frowning. “It’s Dre. You want me to pick it up?”

Marshall shrugged. “Yeah, go ahead.”

You answered. “Hey, Dre. What’s up?”

“Man, tell your boyfriend to check the news,” Dre’s voice came through, half-laughing, half-serious.

Marshall raised an eyebrow, leaning closer to the phone. “What? Why? What’s goin’ on?”

“You tell me, Mr. Loverboy,” Dre shot back. “Turn on your TV.”

Marshall groaned, pushing back his chair to grab the remote. “What the hell is he talkin’ about now?”

You followed him into the living room as he switched on the TV. Almost immediately, a morning entertainment show flashed on screen, and there it was—photos of the two of you from the night before, clear as day.

One image showed you feeding Marshall, both of you smiling like you didn’t have a care in the world. Another showed him resting his head on your chest, looking completely at ease. The segment’s headline read: "Eminem Shows a Softer Side with a Victoria secrets model!"

“Aw, hell no,” Marshall muttered, running a hand down his face.

You tried to stifle a laugh. “It’s kinda cute, though…”

“Cute? Yo, they’re makin’ me look like a damn puppy out here!” Marshall exclaimed, pacing the room.

Dre’s voice crackled through the phone still in your hand. “A puppy? Nah, Em, they’re callin’ you a teddy bear. I’ve been gettin’ calls all morning askin’ if you’re droppin’ a love song next.”

“Yo, Dre, this ain’t funny, man!” Marshall yelled, though his tone betrayed his embarrassment more than anger.

“Oh, it’s hilarious,” Dre said, laughing. “I already know Proof and Denaun are gonna have a field day with this. You better brace yourself.”

Marshall sighed, flopping down on the couch and burying his face in his hands. “Man, this is gonna ruin me. My whole image is shot!”

You sat beside him, patting his shoulder. “Relax, it’s not that bad. People love seeing this side of you. Besides,” you added with a teasing grin, “I think you look adorable in the pictures.”

Marshall groaned. “Not you, too.”

Later that day, Marshall reluctantly went to the studio to work on a new track. As soon as he walked through the door, he was greeted by Proof and Denaun, both holding newspapers with the same pictures plastered on the front.

“Yo! Loverboy’s here!” Proof called out, waving the paper like a trophy.

Marshall scowled. “Man, shut the hell up.”

“You see these, though?” Denaun said, holding up his own copy. “Look at this one right here, Proof. My man’s got his head all up on her chest like it’s a damn hotel pillow.”

“Comfort Suites by Victoria’s Secret,” Proof added, laughing so hard he had to hold his stomach.

Marshall snatched one of the papers from Denaun, glaring at the images. “Y’all are mad annoying, you know that?”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” Proof teased, slinging an arm around Marshall’s shoulder. “We’re just happy to see you happy. Even if it’s funny as hell.”

“Man, y’all act like you’ve never seen someone chill with their girl before,” Marshall shot back, shaking him off.

Dre walked into the room, grinning from ear to ear. “What’s up, Romeo? You finishin’ that ballad yet?”

Marshall groaned loudly. “Not you, too, Dre!”

“Hey, don’t get mad at me,” Dre said, holding up his hands in mock defense. “You brought this on yourself. But for real, Em, the pictures are blowin’ up. Fans love ‘em. They’re sayin’ you’re finally showin’ you’re human.”

“Man, I don’t care what they’re sayin’,” Marshall muttered, slumping into a chair. “This is just dumb.”

Proof sat across from him, shaking his head with a smirk. “You can act all mad about it, but we all know the truth.”

“And what’s that?” Marshall asked, narrowing his eyes.

“That you’re head over heels for (Y/N),” Proof said simply.

Marshall hesitated, his tough exterior softening for just a moment. “Yeah, so what if I am?”

The room went silent for a beat before Denaun laughed. “Man, I knew it! You really are a teddy bear.”

Marshall rolled his eyes, though he couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Whatever, man. Y’all just mad you ain’t got what I got.”

“True,” Proof said, raising his hands. “I can’t even argue with that.”

“Damn right,” Marshall said, leaning back in his chair. “Now, can we stop talkin’ about this and get back to work?”

The teasing continued on and off for the rest of the day, but deep down, Marshall didn’t mind. He had you by his side, and even if the world saw his softer side, he knew it was all worth it.

-

Today, Marshall was being nominated for best rap album.You couldn’t be more proud of him.

The night was electric. The atmosphere at the awards show was electric, filled with flashing cameras and glimmering lights. You and Marshall were seated side by side in the front row, both dressed casually but still looking as stylish as ever. Marshall wore his usual attire: a plain white T-shirt, baggy jeans, and a hoodie, with a signature pair of sneakers completing the look. Even without a suit, he exuded a kind of effortless cool, the same way he did when he first made a name for himself. His confidence, though unspoken, was undeniable.

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride every time you looked at him. This was his moment—the culmination of years of hard work, struggles, and sacrifice. You had been by his side through all of it, and seeing him nominated for an award only made your heart swell.

The ceremony was dragging on, filled with different categories and performers, but you were content to just be there with him. You leaned against him slightly, your hand resting on his leg under the table, giving him a reassuring squeeze every now and then. Marshall kept his cool, never showing any signs of nerves, but you knew how much this meant to him.

Finally, they announced the nominees for Best Rap Album, and the room fell into a hush as they prepared to call the winner. Your grip tightened on his hand as the name of the winner was read aloud.

“And the award goes to... Eminem!”

A collective cheer erupted from the audience, and Marshall stood up, the loudest cheer coming from his friends who were seated across the room. He gave a slight nod, his usual smirk playing on his lips as he walked toward the stage. You stayed in your seat for a moment, watching him, your heart racing. This was it.

Marshall accepted the award, his eyes scanning the crowd as he took the microphone, his face flashing that signature mischievous grin.

“Damn, I don’t even know what to say,” he began, his voice casual but carrying through the auditorium. “First of all, I gotta thank the fans. Without y’all, I wouldn’t be standing up here today. You guys keep me going when I feel like giving up, and for that, I’ll always be grateful.”

The audience erupted into applause. You could hear the whispers of excitement from the crowd, the cameras flashing, the whole room hanging on his every word.

Marshall paused, looking down at the award in his hands for a moment, as though soaking it all in.

“I wanna thank my team—Dre and everyone who had my back from the jump,” he continued. “Without you guys, I wouldn’t be here. This is all for you.”

More applause. He had the audience in the palm of his hand, as usual. But then, he glanced toward you, his eyes softening as he caught your gaze from the front row.

“And lastly,” he said, his tone shifting ever so slightly, but you noticed it, “I gotta thank someone special. (Y/N), you’ve been there for me through everything. You’re the one who’s been by my side, even when I didn’t deserve it.”

You blushed at his words, feeling the heat of the moment. The entire room fell silent as Marshall’s gaze never left you. You could see the sincerity in his eyes, the love in his expression, and it made your heart swell.

He cleared his throat, the corners of his mouth quirking up in that playful way of his. “But… I gotta say one thing to everyone out here—my cute side… that’s only for (Y/N),” he said sternly, and for a moment, you thought he was about to drop a punchline.

The room burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but smile at his playful delivery. But then, there was a moment of silence, and all eyes were on him. The crowd had no idea what to expect next.

“You heard me,” Marshall continued, his tone still light but tinged with the confidence you loved so much. “That soft, cuddly, teddy bear side of me? It only comes out when I’m with her. So, don’t get it twisted, okay?”

The crowd roared with laughter and applause. Some of Marshall’s friends from across the room stood up, cheering loudly. Dre, who had been sitting behind you, raised his glass in your direction with a smirk. “Yo, that’s my boy right there!” he shouted, eliciting even more cheers from the audience.

You couldn’t help but laugh, your heart racing with pride. Marshall was a force of nature, and here he was, in front of thousands of people, being unapologetically himself. The crowd loved it. They loved him.

Marshall flashed a grin, his usual cocky attitude shining through as he held up the award. “But seriously, thanks to everyone who believed in me. This one’s for you, (Y/N),” he said, his eyes softening once more as he looked at you.

You smiled back at him, holding his gaze, feeling your heart swell with affection. He always knew how to make you feel special, even when the spotlight was on him.

The applause continued, but this time, it felt different—more genuine. Marshall had managed to not only win an award but also to share a moment of vulnerability with his fans. They had seen the tough, no-nonsense side of him for years, but tonight, they got a glimpse of the man who was also deeply in love and unapologetically devoted to the one person who understood him.

He stepped away from the mic, raising the trophy in one hand. “Alright, that’s enough outta me,” he said with a smile. “Now let’s get outta here before they start handing out the ‘Best Couple’ award.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his words, and the audience chuckled with you. Marshall had a way of turning even the most sincere moments into something playful.

As he walked off the stage, the audience still clapping and laughing, Marshall turned toward you, his eyes glinting with mischief.

“You good?” he asked, grinning like he hadn’t just turned an awards ceremony into a personal love fest.

“I’m more than good,” you replied, reaching up to pull him down into a kiss.

“Yeah, I’m lucky as hell,” he murmured against your lips, and you could feel the warmth of his words in the way he held you.

your lips curling into a flirtatious smile. "There’s gonna be a second award for you tonight… but it won’t be for your music."

Marshall raised an eyebrow, the playful tension between you two palpable. He leaned in closer, his lips curling into a smirk as he matched your tone. "Oh yeah?" he replied, his voice low and teasing. "What kind of award are we talkin' about here?"

You kept your eyes locked on his, letting the anticipation build. "Well, let’s just say it’ll be more personal," you said with a wink, your hand subtly brushing against his arm. "I think you’ve earned it."

He chuckled softly, a mischievous glint dancing in his eyes. "Damn, you’re bold," he muttered, his lips grazing your ear as he whispered, "I like it."

You could feel his breath on your skin, and the way his body instinctively leaned toward you sent a thrill down your spine. "Just wait, Marshall. Tonight, you’re gonna get a taste of a real reward."

His lips curved into a satisfied grin. "I’m definitely looking forward to it," he murmured, his voice husky with that unmistakable mix of confidence and desire. "You always know how to keep me on my toes."

With that, the two of you shared a quick kiss before heading back to your seat. But you could feel the heat between you both, knowing the night was far from over. As the awards show continued, all you could think about was the "second award" you’d be giving him later.

[gf2bellamy]

okay but headcanons of spencer x richgirl!reader 🙏🏼 i mean blair waldorf, cher, regina george that loves to spoil spence and has the craziest take cause she does not realize how rich she is haha OH season 7 spencer would be cute for this i think 🩷

spencer nearly chokes on his coffee when you casually say;

“Oh, I’ll just buy us a vacation home in the Hamptons. The summers here are just so humid.” 

meanwhile, he’s still using the same messenger bag he’s had since college.

he also nearly dies when you casually mention that you forgot about a whole apartment in paris.

“Wait, you… own property in France?”

“Oh, yeah. But I haven’t been there in, like, forever.”

spencer is recalculating his entire existence.

spencer, the man who used to live off of vending machine snacks, is now wearing a $3,000 coat because you saw it and went “that would look cute on you” and just bought it.

“You really didn’t have to do that.”

“Spencer. It’s literally just a coat.”

“It's worth a month of my rent.”

(you roll your eyes because it’s just a small gift.)

spencer loves you, but my god, your view of money is so skewed.

“You don’t own a summer house? But where do you go in the summer??”

spencer just stares at you blankly.

“Oh, you wanted this book?”

the next day, spencer comes home to a first edition, signed copy on his desk.

“How did you—”

“Oh, it wasn’t that hard! I just called a guy.”

spencer has spent his entire life searching for rare books, and you just casually acquire them like it’s nothing.

“This cost—”

“Shh.” kiss on the cheek. “Let me spoil you, genius.”

morgan loses it every time spencer walks in with another expensive gift from you.

“Damn, Reid, what designer suit is that?”

“I—I don’t know, she just put it in my closet.”

emily is cackling.

garcia has fully embraced this. she’s so invested in your love story.

“Baby genius is living in a romance novel and doesn’t even realize it.”

spencer is used to budgeting. you are not.

“Spence, do you want coffee?”

“No, I’m okay—”

“Great, I’ll get you one anyway.”

“I don’t—”

you already tapped your card. spencer has given up.

you also get him the nicest watches even though he insists he doesn’t need one. 

at first, he’s overwhelmed. he’s never been with someone so openly generous. but then he realizes…it’s just how you love.

and honestly? it’s kind of nice to be taken care of for once.

he still tries to do little thoughtful things for you in return—like writing you love notes or planning super detailed date nights.

you literally melt every time you get a love letter. it’s the first thing you tuck into your designer purse before heading out for the day.

you're used to people buying you gifts, but spencer remembers the little things.

one time, you jokingly sprayed your perfume on his scarf before he left for a case, and now he does it on purpose because it reminds him of you. ( when you find out you nearly faint from how sweet it is. )

[mysteryshoptls]

SSR Ruggie Bucchi - Room Relaxation Vignette

"Happy Birthday"

[Exterior Hallway 2F]

Ruggie: Oh hey, Floyd-kun! Perfect timing. I've been lookin' for ya.

Floyd: Hm? You need me for something, Sharksucker-chan?

Ruggie: Remember how I told ya the other day that my birthday's tomorrow?

Floyd: Mmmm… Now that'cha mention it, kinda sounds familiar, but I'd completely forgotten 'bout that.

Ruggie: I thought so. I'm glad I came to remind you, then.

Ruggie: Sooooo I'M COUNTIN' ON YA TO GIVE ME A PRESENT TOMORROW!!

Floyd: Your birthday's got nothin' to do with me, though?

Ruggie: IT DEFINITELY DOES! I DID SO MANY OF YOUR CHORES FOR YOUR BIRTHDAY!!

Ruggie: Although, I bet you forgot that, too… ANYWAY, SERIOUSLY, DON'T FORGET MY PRESENT!!

Floyd: Ahah, you're really wantin' one, huh.

[Classroom]

Ruggie: Might've been a bust to try'n get somethin' outta Floyd-kun. But who knows, he might come in clutch.

Ruggie: I gotta find a buncha other people to remind, I guess～ Hm? What's that bag of candy that guy's holdin' over there…?

Ruggie: Hey, you, that snack looks pretty tasty. Can ya give me one?

[Diasomnia student speaks]

Ruggie: Ehhhh～ Then, what about the sticker on the bag? Oh, I can have that? Thanks!

Ruggie: Nice, that went well. The sticker's the thing I wanted from the start, anyway.

Ruggie: If I scan the code on this sticker with my phone, I could win a prize worth 30,000 Madol [300 Thaumarks] in their giveaway!!

Ruggie: Then, if I win something, that's a profit at no cost. I'll hafta thank that guy if that happens… in spirit, that is!

Ruggie: Next is… That guy that's about to leave the classroom with his wallet out!

Ruggie: Hey, y'know, tomorrow's my birthday～! I hope you'll be givin' me a gift in return for the one I gave you.

Ruggie: But anyway, putting that aside, you're up next in history class, right? You got everything prepped already?

[Scarabia student speaks]

Ruggie: Not yet, but you're wantin' to head to the Mystery Shop first? Oh hey, then I can go shopping for ya, then. Not sayin' I'm payin', though.

Ruggie: You want the new soda that just dropped, and a cheese-flavored snack? You're good with whatever I pick for that? Okay, gotcha.

Ruggie: He gave me 500 Madol [5 Thaumarks] for that… This should be enough plus a little tip for me, sheeheehee!

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Walkway]

Ruggie: Did some shoppin', helped with some chores, cleaned up the clubroom… Sheeheehee, I made a bit of spare change today, too.

Ruggie: Guess that's enough workin' for now. I'll go hop in the shower now.

Ruggie: Who'd've ever thunk there'd come a time where I'd get to shower every day like it's nothin'～

Ruggie: There's no way I'd've ever been able to splash around in the shower like this back home.

Ruggie: I love living in a dorm at school! Can't believe there's guys complainin' about there not bein' a bathtub, or havin' to share a shower room.

Ruggie: Whew, that was refreshing. I've toweled off good enough, and my hair'll be fine like this.

Ruggie: Oookay, it's study time. I ain't got the time to be failing my classes!!

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Ruggie's Room]

Ruggie: Ancient Incantations homework starts on this page of the textbook, huh. Uhhhhh… Yup, I don't get it at all.

Ruggie: What's even the point of learnin' 'bout these dead languages, anyway? Can't really get excited to learn 'bout somethin' I can't find a use for.

Ruggie: Hey, you're pretty good at ancient incantations, right? Can you translate this sentence from the textbook for me?

Ruggie: Of course, I'm not askin' for it for free! I'll help you with your Animal Linguistics assignment in return.

[Roommate speaks]

Ruggie: …All right, deal! Wheew, it's nice havin' a roommate I can count on.

Ruggie: Man, why do uppity schools hand out so much stuff to do? There's no way one person could do all this homework and classwork review all on their own…

Ruggie: …Right, ancient incantations is doneee!! I should hurry and get my other assignments outta the way too.

Ruggie: Whew, finally, I'm done～ That's seriously waaay too much work, man.

Ruggie: Now, then… Guess I'll get this done too, while I'm still at my desk.

「Survey on Quality of Life Improvements for the Student Body」

Ruggie: I'd be more thrilled to fill it out if they'd give us some money or a prize for answering it～

Ruggie: Not like we'd even know if or when they'd do anything. I'll just quickly throw somethin' together.

Ruggie: I only have one thing I want. "GIVE ME TIME TO WORK SOME GIGS!!"

Ruggie: There's waaay too much homework, and most of the classes are hard to get through without reviewing and prepping for the next class…

Ruggie: Plus, joinin' a club's mandatory, so we got practice or matches on weekends which cuts into what little time I got to try to find a job!!

Ruggie: It's not hard findin' temp jobs, but this basically means that I can't really make money unless it's a long break.

Ruggie: …Oh, you're heading to bed? Yeah, I'm pretty much done with this survey, so I'm gonna sleep too. ''Kay then, night～

Ruggie: Sheeheehee, I can hear his soft sleep breathing. Alright… Now it's my "fun" time.

Ruggie: I'll pull the cover all the way around me, then turn on my phone light…

[flips through banknotes]

Ruggie: Sheeheehee! Ever since I came to Night Raven College, my savings've been slowly goin' up.

Ruggie: I got a ton of coins now too, so I should go deposit these soon. It's scary just having cash lay around unprotected.

Ruggie: Even if I can't really find part-time gigs, thanks to living in the dorm, I don't gotta spend stuff on food or other small things here and there!

Ruggie: Plus, there's times people'll split stuff with me, or give me things they don't need anymore. There's so many ways to build up more cash.

Ruggie: I should be able to pick up another job over the next break, too. What if my savings hits another digit…!!

Ruggie: Haaaaah～ …I get such a good feelin' when I can just gaze at my bankbook like this. I gotta keep on workin' hard tomorrow, too.

Ruggie: Ah, I should sleep soon. I should do my usual thing.

Ruggie: Y'never know what can happen on campus at any time. Gotta stash my bankbook and wallet under my pillow and wrap it all with a towel…

Ruggie: After that, pull the cover allll the way over my head and I'm ready to conk out! Now I can sleep soundly.

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Ruggie's Room]

[alarm rings]

Ruggie: Yaaaaawn～～～

Ruggie: Yay, it's morning! First things first, gotta wash my face and get ready!!

Ruggie: I need ta quickly finish all the stuff I gotta get done, then go gather up all my birthday gifts. I ain't got time to dawdle!

[Savanaclaw Dorm – Washroom]

Ruggie: …Ooh, hey! Someone left behind some face soap. Mine now.

Ruggie: Wheeew～ that was a nice find. I gotta thank whichever dummy left that in a shared room!

[splash, splash…!]

Ruggie: That's washing done. Usually I just use water, so it feels super refreshing to use soap once in a while.

Ruggie: After wipin' all the water off with a towel, next I gotta moisturize. Just gotta spread this wildebeest brand oil on my hands…

Ruggie: Then I gotta rub it all over my face, rub it into my ears, and comb it through my hair with my fingers… Nice, all done.

Ruggie: Man, this oil is the best! I can use the just one thing on my skin, hair, hands, and even my ears.

Ruggie: Honestly, I find all this upkeep a pain, but it's cheaper in the long run to take care of myself now, instead of waiting until somethin' happens and I gotta go to the hospital or somethin'.

Ruggie: For 300 Madol, one bottle of this stuff can be used anywhere on my body, the effectiveness-to-price ratio is way in my favor. I wanna use these guys forever.

Ruggie: All right then… It's my birthday, so I guess I'll throw on a bit of makeup. I'll just consider it an investment to help get more lively responses from all the well-wishers.

Ruggie: I'll use some of the free sunscreen samples first… And as for eyeshadow, I think I'll use some of my special stuff.

Ruggie: Ta-da, the super high brand-name stuff that Leona-san gave me! Or, more like, the stuff I got to keep after I dropped it on the floor and all the powder went everywhere.

Ruggie: I couldn't sell it anywhere, since it looked like this, so I guess all I can do is use it myself.

Ruggie: Mm, but I'm starting to see the bottom of the container 'cause I've been using it too much… No, wait, I can still get some up if I rub my finger in the corner like this…!

Ruggie: Just gotta rub it neatly on my eyelid without wasting a speck… Ooh, lookin' good. All that's left is…

Ruggie: Oh yeah, I can use the eyeliner that I got from a classmate for my birthday last year.

Ruggie: Couldn't sell this either, 'cause it was an old version, or something like that. I should use it before it goes bad, I guess.

Ruggie: Nice, now I'm ready to get goin'! Now I just gotta go wake up Leona-san, and maybe I can wring somethin' outta him while I'm at it!

[Main Street]

Floyd: Hey, Sharksucker-chan. Happy Birthday～ I brought you a present.

Ruggie: You did!? Awesome, Floyd-kun! I knew I could count on ya to come in clutch.

Floyd: I just suddenly felt like clearing out all the stuff in my room I didn't need anymore, sooo～

Floyd: Here ya go, I'll give you this fashion magazine. It's way old now, so there ain't really a point to readin' it anymore.

Ruggie: An old magazine, huh. Eh, I guess it's better than getting noth… Hm? WAIT, THIS ISSUE…!!

Ruggie: FLOYD-KUN…! THANK YOU! THIS IS THE BEST!!!

Floyd: You're that happy to get trash as a gift, huh. Don't really get it, but good for you.

Ruggie: I guess you didn't know what this magazine is really worth.

Ruggie: It's been the talk of the town how this issue's got some photos of an idol that's been super hot right now from a photoshoot before their debut!

Ruggie: If I sell this, I should get at least 10,000 Madol! [100 Thaumarks] Or, maybe more…!? Sheeheehee, this is a dream come true!

Ruggie: I gotta get it out there 'fore their popularity wanes. Plus, I gotta go 'round and get more birthday stuff from everyone else, too…

Ruggie: Wheeew～ Today's lookin' out to be a busy one. THIS IS AN AWESOME START TO THE DAY!!

Requested by Anonymous.

[vampiresbloodx]

Arcane Imagine;

pairings; Vi/reader

Imagine you and Vi moving in together for the first time.

warnings; fluff, established relationship, love sick!vi, more fluff & comfort, arcane au, implied smut reference, teasing, s*xual jokes

a/n; I recently moved <33 so I wanted to write a lil something for vi I can now get back to writing and making silly lil posts because moving is exhausting as fuck lmao

You and Vi have been thinking about moving in together for the longest time, Vi first thought about it when she laid eyes on you when she saw you at the bar

You were with your friends, hanging out, drinks in hand, laughing along with them, she couldn't stop staring at you, how gorgeous you looked that night, how effortlessly beautiful you are to her

She really was a moth that was drawn to the flame

Because randomly, after meeting you, talking to you for a few hours in some bathroom, she was already attached to you, she didn't say it out loud then, it took her ages to actually tell you she has feelings for you

When she did though, it was the best decision she's made, and the one that didn't go to shit

Vi is always by your side, clinging to you, like a lost puppy, it's adorable, you think, as you do the same to her

But when it's just you two, she really let's down her walls and is just completely herself

When there's others around, she puts on that tough act, your very own scary dog privilege

No one can touch you or talk to you in a wrong way, and if someone upsets you, makes you uncomfortable, well they're in for a beating

Vi does not mind getting her knuckles bloody for you

When you brought up the idea of living together in an apartment, even if it wasn't that big and the rent was high, Vi immediately jumped on board

You found it really fucking cute, watching her ramble excitedly about how you two should decorate your room, apartment, she says how you can have your plants in different places, a nice coffee table, a tv, games, you just really liked listening to her talk

Now when you two did the apartment hunting, that was long and slightly boring, having to meet up with strangers to potentially set a deal on your new home, yes, you were both still very excited, and finally, after trying to find the right one, you both found your home

You got what you could afford, and after signing the lease and getting the keys, you were able to officially move in

The moving was stressful, getting everything together, making sure nothing was lost or broken, Vi kept on worrying about her CDs and DVD collection, same with her other collections she has that she didn't want to lose, stuff that she's kept from her childhood, rare items she's found that people have thrown away for some reason and it's actually worth a lot, Vi likes those stuff, she likes finding good things

You like to add to the collections to, when you find things that remind you of Vi

Vi wouldn't show much of her "nerdy" side to anyone else but you had that special spot

There definitely would be Vi making sex jokes, how the new couch would be perfect to try new positions on, or how the bed might not last that long, for that you slapped her playfully on the shoulder, and she laughed hard

She loved teasing you

And will not stop

Vi never really knew she was ever gonna experience this, just that domestic life filled with good moments that will play a huge part in your life for years, and here she was with you, she did not want to let go

Vi was excited about turning this place into a home that shows the both of you, so when they invited people over they would know immediately

She was crazy for you, in the best way possible and you wouldn't have it anyway else

[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.

[mybelovedsylus]

Play Stupid Games, Win Stupid Prizes

I have no excuse for this one. I don’t know why this is where my brain went- well I know why, because I have a dirty mind and Sylus always tells MC at the claw machine that he will buy her a machine of her own, and then pair that with the line about putting her hands on his waist if they’re free… and well. This was born. 18+ please, minors keep it moving even though it starts as fluff.

My warnings for this are that it’s just smut when you get right down to it, and that there may be misuse of a claw machine, okay he uses the claw machine to fuck her… I probably need help. Anyways enjoy as always. You know the drill it’s not proofread or edited. 2200+ words

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You can be such a softie sometimes,” there’s a soft smile pulling on my lips causing the accusation to come out more playful than anything. I’m being led blind through the base, Sylus’ monster hands covering my eyes and most of my face as he maneuvers me through the halls. He hums in what I can only assume is agreement. Afterall, who would have thought the feared leader of Onychinus would be waiting for me to get back from my mission, waiting to cover my eyes, and waiting to present a surprise he had acquired while I was gone.

“Can I get a hint at least?”

“You don’t need a hint, the base isn’t that big, we’re here,” he leaned down at some point so I feel his warm breath caress my ear with the answer. I smuggle down the shudder that wants to run through my body at the sensation.

“So, are you going to remove your hands, or do I get the pleasure?” I tease, reaching my hands up to softly trace from his fingertips to his wrist. Without further preamble he drops them away from my eyes and I’m rapidly blinking trying to adjust to the sudden change in light. When I can finally focus I let out a gasp whirling around to face him.

“Sylus!”

“What? I told you that I would buy you your own. I mean you look so defeated the other day when we left empty handed,” his reply is soft and his eyes are warm as he looks down at me. This big oaf of a man really spent his free time while I was gone precuring a claw machine of all things. In fact…

“Wait- is this the one we always play?” I ask as I turn back, walking over to get a closer look. I let out a small laugh though when I realize all the plushies inside are the little crows I became so fond of- after all I had grown rather fond of Mephisto and it was nice to have a little reminder of him even when I was back in Linkon. (Although to be fair, he was usually trailing me. Nonetheless.) My first statement to him this evening was in fact correct, this man was softer than these silly plushies.

“Let me tell you, it was highway robbery what he made me pay, but now you can play whenever you want,” he shrugged. Nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t gone to our regular arcade and paid probably at least double what the machine was actually worth – because we played it together, and because it was something I enjoyed. I think I finally had physical proof that it was a fond memory for him too. I look back over at my shoulder at him with a cheesy grin that only spreads wider when I see him holding out a quarter for me.

After a few turns I essentially had my face pressed up against the glass, breath fogging my view, because the stupid crow wouldn’t stay in the claw. It kept getting to the point where it looked like it was going to make it to the chute, and then at the last second it slipped right out. Sylus laughing broke me out of my pseudo trance. I spun on my heel, poking him in the chest with my finger.

“Alright, you think it’s so funny, you get it.”

“While I can say watching you is more fun, I’ll show you how it’s done,” is his cocky response as he steps up to the machine. I stand on my tip toes trying to see over his shoulder as he drops the quarter in. I can’t help myself as he starts to move the joystick, tapping his shoulder just like I would do when we were out at the arcade and I was trying to tell him which one I wanted.

“I don’t think your usual antics are entirely necessary, I filled the machine entirely with the same plushie because I know it’s your favorite. However, if you need somewhere to put your hands, my waist is free.”

I don’t know how or why the idea forms, but once it begins to take shape in my mind it’s all I can think of. So I start with complying. I thread my arms around his waist, resting my cheek on the side of his arm, enjoying the feel of his muscles flexing and bunching with the small movements. When his turn resets and he gears up to aim again, my hands sneak down to his belt, deftly undoing it before moving to the button.

“Kitten,” is the growl I get in warning and I have to bite my lip to hide my smile as I flick the button open and pull his zipper down before shoving my hands straight down his boxers. He jumps and accidently presses the button, getting no where close to any of the plushies. I shake my head dramatically, smiling as he looks at me with a heated gaze.

“I thought you were going to show me how it’s done, but it looks like you can't even get close,” I repeat his words back at him with an overly innocent smile, even going so far as to flutter my lashes at him.

“You don’t know what game you’re starting,” he warns with gritted teeth as he turns back to the game.

“I’m pretty sure we’re playing the claw machine,” I mutter as I push down his boxers just enough to free his dick. It’s already well on the way to fully erect, the tip already leaking a bit of precum. I pull one of my hands back so I could lift it to my mouth and lick the entire length of my palm getting it nice and wet for easier movements. With the new lubrication, I shift my hand back and tug once playfully.

“Well don’t stop, I still want a crow,” I say sweetly, twisting my hand at the end of the pull, twisting on the head and eliciting a grunt from him and another pulse of precum. I loosen my grip on his cock, tracing the vein instead lightly with a fingertip as a challenging tease for him to keep working at the game while I play my own. I continued on with my languid pumps, enjoying listening to the way his breathing picked up in succession but deepened in tone. Soon he looked like me at the start of the game with his head propped up on the glass, his breath fogging the glass to the point that I was pretty positive he couldn’t see anything he was doing. It didn’t deter me, rather it motivated me as I tightened my grip a bit and made a quick jerk upwards.

"Fu-uck kitten just like that," he groaned thrusting up into my hand. I picked up the pace amd tightened my grip to a point that might be punishing. Sylus hit his fist against the glass as he moaned and jerked in my grip. It was around the same time that the familiar winning bells went off while the machine lit up.

“Time to show you how it’s done,” was the only warning I was issued as he took control at the speed of lightning, spinning in my hold as he switched our position, pressing me hard against the machine. The joystick dug in my back and I couldn’t even be bothered to care as he crowded into my space, bending down to take my lips in a punishing kiss. His hands were quick to work, pushing my pants over my hips and I gasped as I felt his hands pulling the fabric of my underwear until they ripped with a harsh snap. I tore my mouth from his, looking up at him in shock.

“Those were my favorite.”

“I will buy you 5 more pairs, I thought that would be obvious,” he muttered, bending to bite down on the skin of my shoulder since I had pulled back from him. I tilted my head to give him more access, tangling my hand in his hair and using the purchase to hold him against me. His fingers also moved deftly up my leg until they hit my center. He grunted curse words, finding the wetness that had flooded my panties as I worked myself up teasing him. He pulls back to stare me down as his hands glide through the wetness. I whimper as his hand leaves as quickly as it came, leaving me worked up and frustrated.

He gives me a devilish smile as he moves me slightly, dragging the hand with my slick down the joystick of the machine.

“Sylus!”

I’m shocked by the action, but more shocked as he lifts me with ease. There’s a wild look in his eyes, and suddenly I feel him moving me, until the round red plastic of the joystick is pushing against my entrance. He hesitates, watching me, giving me a chance to protest but I just stare back, working my bottom lip over with my teeth. He groans then, bending down for another kiss as he pushes me down slightly, letting the ball work it’s way in. He watches intently, and once the red is gone, he drops me and lets gravity take control. I throw my head back, banging it on the glass at the intrusion and the assault on my insides. It’s the oddest sensation and I can’t help but shift my hips. Sylus’ wild eyes flicker behind me, and I can hear the crane moving.

“Think we can catch a plushie like this?” he asks me in a deep sultry tone, his hands drifting up my legs, one stopping at my clit while the other grabs the back of my neck, helping him to angle my head up so he can plunder my mouth. He pulls his fingers away from my center and my hips automatically push forward, trying to follow the sensation. I’m rewarded with his hands returning, tracing tight circles on my clit. I’m writhing in his hold, desperate for more, needing more. You grasp for purchase as you shift your hips, trying to get some friction from the ball buried inside you. Once I find a maneuver that has it hitting that perfect spot inside me, I work my hips over and over again chasing that peak. Sylus has his gaze transfixed on my cunt, from his fingers teasing my clit, to the lewd picture of the claw machine mechanism inside me, to the wanton way I grind against it needing release.

“Oh- fuck – right - shit, almost there,” I mutter mostly incoherently working to use the machine and his hand to get you there. I am struggling to keep your eyes open, Sylus now using his hand more forcefully to work my clit and also assist in my grinding movements.

“That’s it, what a welcome to my gift. I think if this is how we use it every time I could be really into this whole plushie thing,” he says breathlessly, looking at me with the gaze of a wild predator, pupils blown wide. I can feel my wetness dripping down from the part of the joystick not inside me, down onto the machine.

“Look at you making a mess, it’s going to be all sticky, we may even have to buy another one because your slick may stop the mechanisms from functioning,” Sylus halfheartedly reprimands while also pulling my legs farther apart so he can get a better view. His words, partnered with the ministrations, finally push me over the edge. I grasp the edge of the controls and clench my eyes shut, calling out Sylus’ name as I crest over the wave. My chest is heaving, and my vision blacks a little. As I come back to myself, I realize he is smoothing my hair and rubbing his thumb over my cheek, his gaze watching me closely.

“You okay there, kitten?” he asks with a gentle grin. All I can do is nod, leaning back against the glass, enjoying the cooling feeling of it through my top. I can’t believe I just defiled the machine like this with him still wearing half your clothes no less – we were no better than horny teenagers sometimes. How long has he been cooking this idea up? I had a good feeling that was one of the motivators to the machine actually coming home.

“Alright, we’re going to relocate this to the bedroom now,” he warns me gently and I smile up at him, putting my hands around his neck as he helps lift me off the joystick. I moan, clutching him to me tightly at the pull. A desperate groan rips from my throat as it pops free and I suddenly feel empty. Sylus lets out a guttural noise of his own as he looks at the way the plastic glistens.

“I almost don’t want to clean it.”

“Gross, Sy,” I hit his chest halfheartedly. It’s interesting I feel somewhat worn out, but also still worked up, and I've definitely noted that Sylus’ cock is an angry shade of red with precum steadily leaking. “Take me to bed.”

“Oh wait – can’t leave without our prizes,” he mutters, setting you down before he bends to collect the crow from the slot. However, I was only expecting the one he caught and instead he’s holding two proudly.

“This one is staying here forever as my trophy, the first of I hope many caught by your pussy,” he says with what feels like reverence, and despite the fact that I was just an active participant, I can feel my cheeks heating at the memory. This man. Although, I do find myself clenching down at the idea – I wouldn’t be that upset for a repeat performance, or for whatever scenario he’s probably already got cooking up.

[cherrrydragon]

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

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: BACK TO OUR REGULARLY SCHEDULED PROGRAMMING

← back to chapter list

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.

[spiderfunkz]

MEET ME IN GWANGMYEONG

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. inspired heavily by the movie "eternal sunshine of the spotless mind", memory-erasing procedure, established relationship, the use of 'y/n', angst, bittersweet ending.

author's note: eternal sunshine of the spotless mind is my favorite movie ever. reblogs and likes help a lot! the hyun-ju fandom is dying as we speak.. i have a few requests i need to get done, so it might take some time.

it's been a week and three days since hyun-ju's disappearance.

you're worried sick, you've filed a missing persons report, but shortly after, the case was shut cold. she disappeared without a trace, no letter, no text on where she might've went, no call, no nothing. it was like she was never with you to begin with, she was like a blurry dream that was too good to be true.

you couldn't endure anymore of this sadness, the memories were driving you crazy— she cared about you, you knew that. she's spent so much time with you, the dates with her don't feel real anymore, you wondered if she was still even out there. the chances are slim, and day by day, you lose hope.

lacuna inc. was just around the corner, as deep as you are in debts, you had some change. this procedure was worth it.

it's simple, and yes, it does technically count as brain damage, but it couldn't be worse than the sleepless nights you've spent, with bottles of soju, and hyun-ju's picture nearby.

you would come in wednesday, come again thursday, and the procedure should be done by thursday night. you've booked the first briefing appointment, they told you to gather all the items you have that resemble hyun-ju— even in the slightest, it needs to be gotten rid of.

does it hurt? absolutely. you stared blankly at the two huge boxes in front of you, it was filled with everything hyun-ju has ever given to you, every single letter she has written from the depths of her heart, all the clothes you've shared together— even the first skirt she bought with you. it seems impossible, but you keep reminding yourself that it would be for the better, is this what people call gaslighting?

it took you a moment to erase her texts. there was one text before she left. it was from you, telling her to come home early because you cooked her favorite meal. aw, how sad, you hit the delete button.

thursday felt suffocating. you felt like you were stuck in the corner of your tiny bathroom, huddled up, knees bent and hugged by your chest. it didn't matter how big the room for the appointment was, you felt like you couldn't breathe.

you came home and slept like a baby. you thought to yourself, you'll wake up a new person. for the better, definitely. at this point, no, you didn't consider any other negatives of this. it was too late anyways, it's been paid, and it's far too late to go back.

the birds chirp, signaling the sun rising.

you wake up according to your alarm, it reads, "7 am, go to work."

you do. you get ready, put on your best clothes, simple makeup, hair done like you've always done it— at least from what you remember, for some reason, you forgot how to braid your hair. even though you swore, it was braided every morning.

whatever, you probably had a weird dream. that's all.

left corner, turn, straight, go right. why couldn't you recall your steps to work correctly? you felt cold, you had your coat on. there was a sort of absence lingering in your chest. you can't pinpoint what it was exactly. maybe you just forgot something at home.

at least the day went by fast. you were excited to go back home and take a nice bath. it felt oddly empty, did you sell your furniture? you shrugged it off, but then you heard a knock. sounded familiar, like a wave of déjà vu just hit you.

you peeped through the peep-hole before opening.

"hello? may i help you?" what a poor sight you were seeing. a woman was standing, rather helplessly, at your front door. she was holding a card, you don't know what it is exactly. there were two of them. one had shapes on them, and one had a tiny 'lacuna inc.' writing.

did you go to work with her? maybe she was another passerby you see often, or someone you went to school with. either way, she looked at you with pure fright and confusion. what a strange combination for a.. stranger.

"what?" her voice rasps, "y/n?"

"how do you know my name? sorry, do i know you?"

[inosukijiro]

✮⋆˙ happy birthday sammy .ᐟ

𝘀𝘆𝗻. ━ you make sam a little something for his birthday.

𖤐 𝗮𝗻𝗻𝘀 𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 .ᐟ no, bc you didn’t think i forgot about my sweet sammy’s bday did u? ignoring the fact that i didn't know his birthday was in may until a week ago 👀 anyways i thought this would be cute to make bc i would love to make him stuff for his bday (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) <3

𖤐 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 .ᐟ fluffy fluff. it’s sammys birthday! sam-centric. reader-centric. gender-neutral reader. briefly mentioned, modern reader in spn. isn’t really season specific, but written with earlier-ish seasons in mind. a little self-indulgent. mentions of crochet. probably ooc (as always). this is probably a mess, i wrote this in four days with no clear direction, im so sorry.  3.9k words.

   ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───  ─── ⋆⋅𖦹⋅⋆ ───

It wasn’t a secret that Sam’s birthday was in May. It wasn’t something he was trying to hide. It wasn’t something the brothers were trying to keep from you, either. It was just... a birthday and Sam had stopped wanting to celebrate it a long time ago. 

Being on the road constantly, hunt after hunt, stuck in stuffy rundown motels and surviving when maybe he shouldn’t have—all chipped away at whatever importance a day like that might've once held. At some point, it became something he really didn’t focus on anymore. Sure, Dean tried. But all his past attempts tended to fall flat, given that Dean's idea of a good time usually involved a stripper, or a random hook up, or spending the night in a bar hustling pool. 

But to Sam, another year older didn’t feel like something worth celebrating when most of those years were steeped in guilt and blood. Maybe, deep down, he didn’t think he deserved the attention. Maybe he didn’t think he deserved to be celebrated at all. Dean would definitely argue with him about that, and Sam knew without a doubt that you would too—because you were kind, and amazing, and believed in good things. You probably still believed in him more than he ever could himself. But none of that stopped the feeling that sat heavy in his chest: that he would never be pure enough, never be truly worthy. His birthday wasn’t a big deal. To him, it was just another reminder of how out of place he sometimes felt in the world.

But hearing his birthday was coming up soon left you with a hollow feeling in your heart and a rush of unrelenting determination. All you wanted was to find some way, to show him that he mattered. Because Sam deserved nice things; deserved to have a day all to himself to be shown that he was appreciated, seen, and valued for everything he was, not judged for everything he thought he wasn’t. You didn’t care about the mistakes he carried, how he felt all of them were flooding through his veins and how every good thing slipped through his fingers, not when you knew the kind of heart Sam Winchester had. Despite it all—even the worst of it—you knew Sam just wanted to help, to make the world a little less grim, even if he didn't think he deserved forgiveness or anything in return. You just wanted him to know, even for a little while, that none of the darkness he blamed himself for could erase the good he put into the world every single day.

The topic of birthdays never really crossed your mind when things had stayed fictional, that much was true. Though, it wouldn’t surprise you if you just hadn’t noticed at the time anyway. Still, you couldn’t help but feel like you should’ve known, like it was something you should’ve picked up on, even in passing. But you hadn’t. And it made you feel this certain type of bad that you knew you didn’t need to feel, but felt anyway even after things became real. That tiny, itty bitty, twinge of guilt lingered. And not because you thought Sam would be upset. Whether it was because he was genuinely the sweetest man you’ve ever met or because he didn’t think he deserved to be celebrated at all—you weren’t sure. Either way, you know he’d never hold it against you and that somehow made everything worse.

But, you knew about it now, though. It took up more space in your mind than the case you three were currently working. All you could think about was how to show Sam how important he was to everyone—to you. You knew he wouldn’t want anything over-the-top. He’d probably shy away or insist it wasn’t necessary, and the last thing you ever wanted was to make him uncomfortable. But you just couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how nice it would be to do something, even something small, just to celebrate the existence of his that you loved so much. To let the day pass like any other would be a crime. Though, if you had asked Sam, he’d tell you that all the love and attention that you give him day in and day out was plenty; that you were his present, literally sent to him from out of his universe, and he wouldn’t want anything else. It’s cute, truly, but no amount of self loathing on his part was going to change your mind. Sam Winchester deserved to be celebrated and you planned on making his birthday a good one.

The idea of getting Sam a book comes to you briefly. It was something that first crossed your mind. He was always reading, always buried in lore or research or flipping through some unrelated story in his downtime. But the longer you sat with the idea, the more it didn’t sit right—that it wasn’t a very thoughtful gift at all. Sure, he might like it. He might even thank you and give that small, soft smile that never fails to make you swoon. But would he love it? Would it mean anything? What if you picked the wrong book—maybe something he already read, or worse, one that he wouldn’t have ever picked up? You didn’t want to give him something that felt like homework, or a filler gift that he’d shove to the side thinking you didn’t care enough.

You wanted him to have something that proved he was worth more than the effort most people, and the world, extended towards him.  That there was more to him than just reading and being smart. His identity wasn’t just researching and scanning books for lore. You wanted to give him something that showed you saw him—Sam—someone who mattered. So you turned to the one thing you knew you were good at, something that always came from the heart: you decided to make him something handmade. Because handmade meant time and care, and it meant love—and that’s what you wanted to give him. You wanted to give him a gift that was useful and he could enjoy without having to do anything. One that he could look at and know that someone thought of him. Something that he could hold onto and know, without any question or doubt, that he means something. 

You probably should’ve thought more about it at the time, but the minute the idea popped into your head, you were set on it. Wrist cramps and lost sleep—none of that mattered if it meant making something for Sam. So, you decided that you wanted to crochet him a laptop sleeve. It was cute and practical, and honestly, to you it was kind of perfect. Sam loved that laptop. It was practically an extension of him. It was always glued to his side for research or case notes, and very rarely have you seen him part with it besides hunting purposes. Though sometimes, he’d let you use it for silly things, like watching videos or playing music, even if you had your own little fancy device that could do much more. But maybe that’s just because Sam was like that with you, where sometimes actually meant whenever you wanted because Sam was entirely that smitten with you. 

You considered how much he relied on it, and knowing how gutted he’d be if anything ever happened to it again. You remembered how bad things got after the car crash, and came to the decision that he needed something soft, and safe, and made just for him. You weren’t sure if he ever replaced the case he used to have, or if he even had one at all. But that didn’t matter. What mattered was how excited you were just thinking about it. You hadn’t crocheted in months, but your fingers were laced with an itch that wanted to and needed to start right away. It didn’t matter how tired you got or how sore your hands might feel—this was for Sam. And doing something for him, anything for him, always made it worth it.

Your crochet hook had been tucked away and untouched for so long, you were half-convinced you’d forgotten how to use it. Or maybe that was just you being a little dramatic. But either way, it all came back the moment you found the perfect pattern. It was like muscle memory, you really didn’t need to think about it too much. And it would never cease to amaze you how you had managed to sneak the project into the motel room without either of the brothers noticing. It felt like a small miracle in itself, and just slightly did you let yourself beam a little in pride. The design you chose was made up of six neatly stitched heart granny-squares with these two green and brown yarns that somehow fit your perception of what you wanted to do. They were nice colors, perfectly aligning on the color scale that did not muddy in a way that would have been considered ugly. No, the green yarn was the fluffy kind—moss-like, not too dark or bright either—and it felt both wild and comforting beneath your fingers. And the brown, while not as soft or plush or even the same type of yarn, was still nice and sturdy; used to form the heart at the center of each square and the border that held them together.

It didn’t necessarily strike you until it all started to form. It was a little cottagecore-y and at the same time, reminded you of a forest; how it was deep, and quiet, and grounding. And just a little bit, it reminded you of Sam. It's the kind of aesthetic that was rooted in simplicity, and comfort, and gentle care, all things you’d come to associate with Sam in the quietest parts of knowing him. He carried that same warmth, that same stillness that felt like home, and you wanted him to look at this and know someone thought about him; deeply, intricately, intentionally. That someone saw how much heart he poured into everything he does, and how deserving he was of having something done the same just for him. Every stitch was time and care you were more than willing to give—because Sam was worth it. Worth the effort. Worth being thought of. Worth being loved.

You spent the next few days determined to get every detail perfect. Even though the gift was for Sam, you still found yourself dodging Dean too—just in case. To you, there was no room for any type of oversight. Especially when you were constantly stuck at the hips of the Winchesters. You weren’t about to risk either of them catching on to what you were doing. So you took to working on it during the silent hours of the night; fingers working and moving meticulously in near tandem, with the light of the dull motel lamp casting over your stitches just enough to see, but not enough to reach the sleeping eyes of the unconscious men on the other side of the room. 

Working on it so late hadn’t bothered you. It reminded you of where you came from, if anything. How you used to stay up late all the time working on things like this. It felt nice, homely. And even if it seemed that you were just a bit more tired than usual because of it—so be it. A few sleepless nights meant nothing in the face of those soft, dimpled features and big, earnest eyes.

Though, by the time you finished it was technically already his birthday. You’d tied off the final stitch sometime after two a.m., making sure everything was secure before tucking the handmade case and the small card you found into your bag. The problem was, now you had to wait and you were too wound up with anticipation. You were completely wide awake, which was funny, considering your eyes had started to droop not too long ago. But your heart, body and mind were buzzing. You couldn’t just go back to sleep, even as you curled back into the covers to get away from the cool air that had been nipping at your skin for hours. The feeling was pulling at you, excitement melding itself to your bones. You couldn’t wait to see his face. To see that sweet smile and those pretty eyes. The thought of his reaction made your stomach twist with butterflies—so much so that you almost considered shaking him awake right then and there. Because of course, today of all days Sam decided to sleep in, instead of getting up right at four like he usually did.

But, by the time Sam finally rose out of his slumber, you’d already been waiting for hours—quietly staring up at the ceiling, pretending like you hadn’t stayed up all night. You didn’t want to rush him, that would have been inconsiderate and rude. Sam had only just started to stir, rubbing sleep from his eyes and slowly easing into the day as he and Dean moved around the motel room in that leisurely, familiar rhythm—duffel bags unzipped, clothes swapped, vague plans murmured between them. You stayed back, gift tucked away, keeping up the act that nothing was out of the ordinary. You were just waiting. Waiting for him to be awake enough, conscious enough, to take it all in. And then, as if the moment had been handed to you, Dean tossed out a breezy “Oh, and happy birthday, man” over his shoulder. 

It was casual, almost forgettable. But it broke through the air like a tiny little spark, making you let out the faintest sound, almost like you’d just remembered something—even though the truth was you hadn’t stopped thinking about it. You shifted on your feet, bouncing slightly in front of Sam, catching his eye. His attention landed on you instantly—sharp but gentle. It was like he could already sense something was coming. His gaze was soft, though, swimming with something that you couldn’t quite place, but it made your breath hitch. It gained the attention of Dean too—because what the hell was that—but it seemed like you barely registered him.

“I know what you’re going to say,” you started, voice lower than expected. Your hands moving in front of you, animated, which was the only thing that was able to stop your bundle of nerves from getting to you. “And I know you guys don’t do big grand celebrations but… I still wanted to get you something. Um…” Your words trailed off as you shifted again, something thick and warm settling in the air between you. The quiet kind that held all the affection that didn’t need to be said.

And just for a brief moment, you catch Dean’s eye just as he’s slinging his jacket over his shoulder. He gives you a look—one of those smug, knowing ones that makes your stomach twist. It's not in a bad way, but it makes it feel like he’s in on something you aren’t. You raise an eyebrow, but before you can say anything, he’s already grabbing the keys to the Impala and casually tossing out a, “You know what, don’t even worry about today,” followed by a pointed and teasing, “You two have fun,” with a wink before he slips out the door. For him, he doesn’t need to know exactly what you’ve planned; he sees it in your eyes though—how much you care about Sam, how badly you want to give him something good. Dean’s spent his whole life trying to protect him, trying to give him scraps of happiness whenever he could, and now, seeing you want to do the same means a whole lot more than you think. He respects that. So yeah, he’ll kill time, circle back later, maybe speak to a witness or two. The hunt can wait for as long as you two needed.

Sam stares at the door for a moment, blinking in the quiet Dean left behind, his eyes flicking from the entrance back to you. It’s not that he’s protesting—at least not in any real way—just caught a little off guard, a bit bashful even in the way that tightens his throat and makes his ears warm. The thought that maybe this was some kind of setup crosses his mind, but the look on your face tells him otherwise. You didn’t entrap him; he knows that. And even if Dean had orchestrated a quick escape on his part, Sam should really stop being surprised by the things Dean does by now. But, it’s not that Sam would’ve been upset about it anyway if you had—of course not. You only ever had the best intentions in mind and besides, how could he ever complain about being alone with you?

But Sam has this look now—the one with that cute disbelieving little smile that tugs at one side of his mouth more than the other, all crooked and genuine. His dimples sink in as his eyes crinkle just slightly. And then he shakes his head, hair swaying with the motion, and he just looks so pretty like this—sweet and humble, all of his attention fully settled on you. “You didn’t have to get me anything—” he starts, voice low and sincere, but you cut him off gently, not sharply, just enough to stop the words you knew were coming. 

“No, I know,” you say quickly, breath catching a little as your nerves tangle with your excitement. Your voice is soft, almost delicate in a way as you look up at him—a little shy but most definitely full of hope. “I just… wanted to. Like I said. Please?”

And before Sam can respond, you’re already reaching into your bag, fingers curling around the gift you’ve kept tucked away. His attention sharpens immediately, a brief curiosity flickering across his face as he watches you pull it out. He’s clearly not expecting anything—it shows in the way his brows lift, eyes softening as that same bashful smile tugs at his mouth again. He’s overwhelmed, but not in a bad way—never bad when it comes to you. It’s more like flattered, deeply touched in a way he doesn’t quite know how to express yet. “You really didn’t have to—” he starts, but the words falter on his tongue the second he sees what you’re holding out to him.

It’s folded a bit, but the colors catch the light just enough—the soft green and brown, stitched together into something warm and lovely. His heart does this quiet little lurch. He doesn’t even fully understand what it is yet, but when your voice—sweet, careful, a little excited—starts explaining, it makes everything inside him still. He could listen to you forever like that. And when you mention it’s for his laptop, his brows lift again in surprise, realization clicking everything into place. 

“Did you make this?” he asks, eyes flicking back to yours, voice low and almost disbelieving. You nod, a bit shy, and he can barely hear the soft little “Yeah” tumbling from your mouth. For a moment he focuses on your smile that blooms when you see the way he’s looking at it—like it’s something precious. 

Sam turns it over in his hands, his brows drawing together in that gentle, thoughtful way he always gets when he's focused. He takes his time, eyes scanning every stitch, every corner of it. It’s adorable. Charming in a way that makes his chest ache, but it’s also incredibly well-made. His lips part slightly, and he breathes out a quiet, loving sigh. He brushes his thumb along the edge, marveling at the texture—soft, yes, but also sturdy. Sam’s pretty sure this thing could survive whatever rough treatment it was going to get. The more he looks, though, the more it hits him—how smart you were with the color choices. They were beautiful, intentional, and practical in a way that only you could manage. And it wasn’t just cute or endearing—it was you. Thoughtful, clever, kind. You made something that would last. Something just for him.

And the fact that it’s handmade—by you—strikes him somewhere deeper than he expected. It’s not just a gift. It’s a piece of you, something tangible he can touch and hold and use to remember you. The care, the time, the effort—it all floods him in an instant, and it makes his heart flutter in a way that he can’t quite explain. Sam’s not new to feeling loved around you, but this was different. More raw. More intense. Like something in him just… clicked. And he’s not sure he’ll ever look at this without thinking of how deeply, and sincerely seen he felt in this exact moment.

“Is it okay? You like it?” you ask quietly, hesitantly, and Sam’s head snaps up immediately to meet your gaze. He looks at you like you’ve just asked him something absolutely absurd. “I love it, are you kidding?” he says, and there’s an almost breathless laugh in his voice, fond and a little stunned. “When did you even have time for this? I didn’t even know you had yarn.” And despite the teasing edge in his words, his eyes are so soft, so full of something he can’t name.

The rest of the morning continues smoothly, lazily, after that. Sam, dazed with emotion, carefully slipping his laptop into the sleeve you made. Quick to do so, too, wanting to start using it immediately. It fits perfectly, like he knows it would, and the sight of it tucked into something so personal—something crafted just for him—makes his heart do this unsteady little clench. He runs his fingers along the yarn one more time, lingering, before glancing at you. You’re beaming still, eyes soft and full of accomplishment, and it only makes his cheeks flush deeper. He doesn’t say anything else right then, but the look he gives you says plenty.

And the world outside seemed to pause for a while. The two of you end up curled in his bed. Tangled in sheets and warmth, and Sam lets himself be wrapped up in you—your arms, your presence, your love. He feels dizzy, and it’s the kind of dizzy that comes with knowing he’s cared for so deeply. You pepper kisses across his cheeks, his jaw, the side of his neck, each one paired with a faint, breathless wish of “happy birthday.” It makes him laugh softly, muffling against your lips that latch onto his again. His heart feels so full it could burst, and he pulls you closer, hoping this moment stretches just a little longer.

And for a little while it does, and Sam forgets why he ever thought he didn’t deserve to be celebrated in the first place. The voice in his head—the one that always tries to pull at the past mistakes he’s made—goes silent under the weight of your affection. He knows those thoughts will come back tomorrow, and maybe you’re aware of that, too. But it’s hard to hold onto them when you look at him like that—like he’s good and worthy of being loved. You treat him so gently, deliberately, and he starts to believe that maybe he deserves the softness that you give to him so freely. 

The both of you might not spend his birthday doing much. Maybe the two of you leave the motel just to get some air, go out to eat at that tiny diner down the road. You’ll insist on paying with one of their frauded credit cards, grinning as you’re treating him. Sam just shakes his head but lets you—because you want to, and that makes Sam feel something. And later, when Dean meets back up with them, his eyes land on the crocheted case. He gives it a once over, raises his brow, teases that “It’s cute. Girly, but cute.” in usual Dean fashion. And Sam, smiling, just rolls his eyes.

𖤐 .ᐟ happy birthday, sammy!! love u ( ˶˘ ³˘)♡

[starberry-cupcake]

I started reading and writing this recap, then I got sick, so now that I'm able I want to pick it back up before I forget where I even was

previously in nonita del 9:

this is the first part and chapter

this is the general tag, for those who stumble upon this in the wild and, for some reason, want to read all the rest

CHAPTER 2

nonita is talking about how she's actually one of potentially two people

and describes herself in the following terms

"skin the color of the egg carton, and eyes the color of the egg mixture, and hair the color of the burnt-out bottom of the pan...a thin, complicated face...nice white teeth in a smile that looked sad no matter how happy she was"

she thinks she's gorgeous

ok cyrus the lyctor with the nudes whose last name I don't remember and I was about to google when autocomplete scared me and I closed the tab

I'm not allowed to google things for these recaps, I should know better

anyway, gideon eyes

so is this harrow's body but gideon's soul while harrow's soul is in the river with the emperor???? or what's happening???

did gideon's soul get scrambled upon returning from the river somewhere???

if it's gideon's soul in harrow's body, it'd make sense with her thinking she's gorgeous and kissing the mirror tbqh

unfiltered gideon behavior

but the memories of the pool were harrow's??? because she remembered gideon's arms????

gideon's arms are very memorable, I've heard

which reminds me, where's gideon's body????

also, is this new personality who lives in a cumple gonna switch back to who it used to be or merge together?

is this happy-go-lucky attitude gonna disappear or combine?

I remember back when I didn't know anything about these books (and all I saw was the covers and knew that gideon and harrow were a ship), I thought nona was their child in like a distant future

I don't know why I thought that, I just filled in the gaps with that

those were simpler times

so nona is kinda vain about her looks, apparently??

I posted this before but, this was her at a queue when someone was hitting on her

she's nonchalant about people wanting to sleep with her and camilla says "sex things were right out. She said there were enough problems in the world"

I'd love a tshirt like this, actually

so am I to understand that gideon and harrow got blended somewhere in the river and reborn as a "born sexy yesterday" lovechild??

I don't know, man, I'm just gonna continue

pyrrha, palmolive and camilla are trying to teach nona things but also not teach her things, because they don't wanna skew the results on who she is

in case it comes back to her that she can wield a sword or do playdoh stuff with bones

what she can do, apparently, is pick up any language by watching people speak it

which, in a planet of refugees, comes up very frequently

palmolive (and me, also me) is like "where tf did this come from?????"

I mean, I guess either harrow or gideon could have that from before, since I don't think they were exposed to anything other than the one language, did they?

I can't remember??? I don't think gideon did??

or is it new???

she downloaded a star trek universal translator on the way down from the river, as a treat??

also, out of the two of them, if this is just one of them, I think harrow would be the one more mortified by everything that's going on during this time, just putting it out there

CHAPTER 3 (we have an apple tree rather than the tomb at the start of this one)

nona says she "doesn't just want to be good-looking and dumb", so she got herself a job

which says a lot about the value of productivity in self worth, even in situations of dire stress and danger, but I digress

if this is harrow, she's gonna hate all this so much

the body maybe is harrow's? because the school lady think's she's 14, and that gave me mercygirl vibes of saying she's less years every time she looked at her

and she wants to send nona to school

the lady also has suspicions of pyrrha being camilla's and nona's pimp, so pyrrha has to flirt with her to distract her from that line of thought

and says she'd be luckier being a pimp for augustine and alfred

so, nona insists on going to school and is allowed because palmolive is combeferre-coded and loves education

I mean, I agree, but also, at what cost, in this case?????

so, nona goes to school and befriends a bunch of kids who ask her for drugs but then relent and let her join their clique anyway

because she takes care of the teacher's dog, which always gives people points socially

kevin is really adorable btw we love kevin

one of the kids, the leader, is called hot sauce and I think she's been through a lot

like, more than the rest of the kids

one has like 5 fathers, but still

she's the only one not ready and willing to go attempting to kill necromancers, which the other kids want to do

nona can also read people's body language very well, to the point in which she can tell when people are lying, uncomfortable or hiding something

another thing that may or may not be from Before

anyway, nice kids, I'm sure nothing bad is gonna happen to any of them

right?

right????

we'll leave it there for now! next chapter starts with a seventh house skull so idk what we're in for at all, as long as not!dulcinea isn't back...

[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

[sweetbottletops]

Mitsuki is going to YOLO her way into a girlfriend if she doesn't watch out. I really thought we'd have another planned grand gesture out of her, but it seems like spontaneous Mitsuki is fully at the wheel.

Ch. 112

Darling, you got to let me know / Should I stay or should I go? / If you say that you are mine / I'll be here 'til the end of time ...

Clarity on the flower's chain of custody! Joe is going into battle fully equipped.

Telling Joe off wasn't part of the plan nor was jumping out of the car. The bouquet only made sense if she was going to give it to Aya, but maybe she had been going to stop at the party first so as not to completely ghost them (and to keep Joe out of her business)?

Now that she doesn't have a ride directly there it'll take more time to get there by train...or she could just go to Prom directly.

How they use their phones in this series between texting, sm, and maps somehow makes it more realistic to me. Hard to put that into words but hopefully you get it.

"Did I think carefully about them? Oosawa-san's feelings."

Those car sounds are Koga's brain trying to fire up. I'm beginning to think Aya makes her feel so safe she hasn't had to analyze Aya's feelings as much. Or she had been buried so much in her own psyche that now she is somewhat stable and grown up she can extend herself out to Joe, Kanna, and Aya more.

It's a summery of Koga's thoughts for those who weren't following closely as these moments were spread out and mostly from Aya's POV.

Aya is alone and on her phone. Turns out getting the dress and going anyway isn't going to make it a good time. Can only imagine Kanna's YEARS spent in LA alone. Even as she made a successful career there it wasn't enough she would pass on going back to Joe one more time when Koga was going to be old enough he might consider the situation again.

Kanna hooked her up with a really nice dress. That's an LA stylist for you. Aya is still locked in on her phone. There is exactly one person she'd be interested in hearing from. It's reminding me of what they did over Christmas a year ago. When they both left their Christmas events to be together. Ah, simpler times.

Took a mirrorball right to the eyeball. Hopefully you-know-who showed up.

Mirrorball lights? Leaf tornado? You better have turned towards the school. Everything you've done to this point musically has been with Aya. Lock in your muse for life and the rest will be worth it no matter what happens.

[awkwardgtace]

Stuck and Maybe Stupid

Doubt!! Rhys secret shifter again! Woo

The day after Rhys's foster parents found out about his size shifting he's stuck small enough to fit in their fist. He convinces them to leave, but his foster brother's come home… he's hoping they won't find him.

Stuck and Maybe Stupid

Rhys still couldn’t believe that his foster parents had accepted what he was. Especially the next morning when he’d gotten small enough to fit in their fists again. It helped when one gently picked him up off a pillow and reassured him he was safe. They both talked about skipping work, but he begged them to go. They agreed once he reminded them his foster brothers would be home soon. Rhys swore he’d go to them if there was any trouble; of course he kept the fact it was a lie to himself.

His mom, it didn’t feel real that he could think that, but his mom carried him to the living room. Her hands were soft, holding him firmly against her heart. She set her palm down next to the couch; a place he had hidden more than once. There were plenty of times he’d gotten stuck small before; not while living with this family though. It wasn’t hard to deal with anymore, at least he liked to say it wasn’t. It was kind of nice to have people who wanted to keep him safe until he could get big again. 

They did a lot to make sure he’d have everything he could need. His mom cut up some fruit for him. His dad put a small cap alongside a bowl of water. Even looked for things he could use to stay entertained until he could grow… Having a mom and dad who cared was nice.

Just as he thought that, his dad’s hand surrounded him. Long, massive fingers covered any escape. Panic set in as they pressed him into the massive digits. Then the hand was gone. An echo of the warmth sat on Rhys’s skin. He liked it… He still felt stupid, but they made it feel worth it. Even when their steps made the world shake, bounced him a little off the ground, and reminded him how small he was. It was the first time he could remember a safe feeling while small ever.

Rhys wandered out from under the couch a few times over the next few hours. Each was an attempt to grow, but it filled his body with pain. Eventually he curled up on a cloth his mother had left so he wasn’t stuck on the wood floor. Stuck small usually meant he had to hope he didn’t starve before he could grow. The memories of the last time he was stuck small filled his mind. He’d been so cold and hungry by the time he grew again…

“Rhys you here?” Ryder’s voice jolted him from his thoughts. He curled in on himself, afraid to be found. 

The steps that neared him made Rhys bounce. He clutched the cloth, terrified of what would happen. Horrified that the people he started to trust immediately betrayed him. Tears burned his eyes when Ryder’s steps stopped right at the couch. Right where the people who claimed to care left him. 

“Guess not,” Ryder’s sigh made Rhys’s body go limp. Until heavier steps started. It had to be Felix. Rhys shook as his body was flung in the air by the steps with all of his stout foster brother’s weight. “Was he upstairs?”

“No,” Felix said. The couch creaked in time with the steps stopping. At this size he could hear how normal people affected everything. “We can stay down here and see if he comes home, like mom and dad asked.”

“I guess… They sounded worried. Do you think something happened?”

“Does it matter?” Rhys swallowed. Felix sounded angry. He’d never seen Felix angry. “Kid’s been avoiding us for weeks anyway.”

“Oh so that’s why you’re in a bad mood.” 

Another shiver as Ryder’s steps started up again. Felix’s feet slammed on the ground in front of him. Rhys bit his hand to keep from screaming. 

“I’m not in a bad mood. He doesn’t want to be here, what do I care?” Felix growled. Rhys’s cheeks grew damp as he listened. “Besides I won’t have to fix clothes all the time if he leaves… or worry about the way he flinches from our hands sometimes…”

“Ok, what’s actually on your mind?” Ryder’s voice held the concern Rhys was used to. It was usually sent his way. The steps came back. They stopped and Rhys risked crawling a bit forward to see at least Ryder. He was a lot more intimidating from his current position.

“Nothing!”

Felix’s voice was loud. It made Rhys’s ears ring. He slid back, away from the two. It started to look like a good idea to run. Get out of this place before Vitus and Dabria came back. Before he had to admit that he couldn’t have parents when the rest of the family hated him.

“Is it what Del said? That he’s like her?” Ryder’s voice was soft. The couch creaked as his weight joined Felix’s above him. He inched closer to the feet of his foster brothers. Delphia never mentioned they were similar. If she could change too maybe that was why he had a chance at a mom and dad. 

“He’s not like her. It would have been obvious by now if he was,” Felix’s voice was more how Rhys knew it. Tired, a bit snobby, but a hint of kindness in the words. The anger at least passed. “He’d already have said something off that we could pick up on.”

“Then what is it, I thought you liked our new brother. Mom and dad said you were ok with them adopting him down the line if things worked out.” Another time Rhys had to bite his hand. He’d been hiding so much, but they still wanted him. Even before they saw what he was… Maybe it would change now. They still didn’t know everything…

“His clothes…”

Rhys looked down at his clothes. They were a bit baggy right now. They didn’t fully shrink with him, better than some of the other times at least. Maybe he should ask for some doll clothes. It would make things easier in the future, kind of embarrassing though.

“What? You don’t like his style?” Ryder laughed.

“Of course not,” Felix snapped. “They get torn all the time. A lot of the time after he’s disappeared for the day or just gets home from being out.”

“So… you think someone forgot what happened when they tried to bully Del?”

“Nothing happened back then!” Felix’s voice squeaked. Rhys had to hold back his laugh.

“Oh really? I remember a certain call to dad about someone getting in a fight at school. That a certain brother of mine broke someone else’s nose. If I recall the reasoning was they made his sister cry.” 

Rhys could picture Ryder’s face. A small grin, eyebrows raised, eyes glowing with an emotion he barely understood. Felix’s sigh replaced the image with his face. Eyebrows pulled together, index and thumb on his forehead, eyes closed, a frown that had the smallest hint of smile in it.

“They shouldn’t have made fun of her for warning them about the ticks on their camping trip,” Felix mumbled.

“And no one’s forgotten since. Do you really think someone is bullying Rhys?” Ryder asked. The couch creaked again, Felix’s feet disappeared. Rhys crawled forward, almost out of the shadows. Just in time to watch his foster brother put his feet on the coffee table, they weren’t supposed to do that.

“I don’t know, but how else do you explain all the ripped clothes? The way he flinches from us just tapping his shoulder?! He’s gotta be getting into fights… He could just talk to us,” Felix said. Voice small and so unlike the person Rhys had always seen. Stoic, prepared, confident. This time Felix sounded as scared as Rhys was to be seen.

“You could try asking, he might say it.” 

“You didn’t see his face the one time I did ask…”

Rhys scrambled back just in time to avoid his foster brother slamming his feet back on the ground. He’d gone too far out. That was close and reminded him how stupid it was to listen to the part of him that wanted to call out. 

“It was as bad as Del’s face the first time she told us something before it happened I’m guessing,” Ryder sighed. The couch creaked as he stood up. Rhys closed his eyes, unwilling to see the steps moving around after his close call. That didn’t stop them from bouncing him.

Ryder’s steps got far enough Rhys was left still. The pop of a can opening came from above him. Probably what Ryder went to get at first, a drink for each of them. The silence weighed heavily in the room. Rhys thought it would suffocate him. He tried to think about what they said. That Delphia knew things before they happened. 

It would explain a lot. How she sometimes showed up and left things right where he needed them when he was small. The front door always left unlocked after he’d snuck out when he needed to grow. It never made sense. If she knew…

“It was worse than that Ryder,” Felix’s voice was cold. It froze Rhys in the broken silence. “Like he’d die if I knew what was going on.”

The sound of aluminum crumpling filled the air. Whatever Felix was drinking spilled all over the floor. Rhys told his body to move. Run. If he didn’t they’d see him when they cleaned it up. His legs refused, the cold tone from Felix had locked his limbs down.

“Shit! Ryder bring me some paper towels!” Felix shouted. 

Another bout of ringing in Rhys’s ears. It didn’t make him move. Neither did the fast, heavy steps that approached. The creak of the couch as Felix stood. The slam of his knee on the ground. The hands too close for comfort. None of it broke the spell that cold tone set on Rhys’s small body.

“Don’t forget under the couch.” Ryder’s voice felt far away. As if this was a dream he was about to wake up from. 

Numbly Rhys realized the ground around his feet was wet. He waited. As the shadow covered the light. As massive paper towels slipped in and out. His pulse pounded in his ears. It nearly muted the call to ‘shine some light under here.’

Light blinded him. Usually he adjusted quickly, but not this time. It didn’t matter, he was caught. So he waited. As the paper towels pulled away. As golden eyes filled the space in front of him. As a deep breath was sucked in, it smelled kind of sweet. As a hand with thick fingers replaced those eyes and approached him.

He waited. For the pain as the fingers closed around him. For the regret or anger at his body’s betrayal. The way it wouldn’t listen when he wanted to run. He was terrified. That cold voice filled his mind. Cold aimed at him or the invisible attackers Felix pictured. He couldn’t be sure anymore…

“Rhys?” Felix’s voice was soft. The fingers around him didn’t grab. They surrounded him, but didn’t close. There was no escape.

“Felix, did you hit your head? Ryder’s voice was loud, jovial. “Rhys is small but not that small.”

“Get down here, and turn the flashlight off.”

“Don’t have to sound so mad.”

Another crash as Ryder’s knees hit the ground. Rhys’s heart hadn’t stopped pounding. He was pretty sure his body started shaking. Stupid legs still wouldn’t move. This would be what ended that dream from the day before. He couldn’t have a family when some of them hated him. Mom and dad had to stay Vitus and Dabria because he’d be leaving soon. If they didn’t kill him.

Silver eyes joined golden in staring at him. The blinding light was gone. Thin fingers reached forward. They touched his side, just where the tips of Felix’s ended. It made him jump. He couldn’t tell what would happen next. Either way his secret was out. 

“Did we both hit our heads?” Ryder’s voice was almost inaudible. Even for Rhys. That made it a bit easier.

“...no,” Rhys said. If his dream was ending he was going to be a part of it. He wouldn’t watch it happen.

Felix’s fingers moved. Rhys stiffened, but they actually pulled away. Ryder’s fingers started to fill the empty space, but a noise from Felix stopped him. Rhys watched the two share a look before both hands were completely gone. Then the golden eyes were gone. The silver followed. Legs stayed visible, but there was a spot left in between the two normal people.

“Do… you want to come out?” Felix asked. It was awkward. Not something Rhys was used to.

“N-not really,” Rhys said. There was some shuffling. Both Ryder and Felix moved further from the couch.

“Is this better?” Ryder whispered. 

Rhys wanted to say no again. To curl up on the cloth, away from the gigantic people. The ones he wanted to be his real brothers. When he managed to make his body move, it went forward. Towards them. Step by step he moved farther from the safety of the couch. Closer to the open area where two people would stare down at him. Two people who might not want him around anyway.

As soon as he was in the open, he heard them both suck in a breath. He felt stupid again. It would be a miracle if stupid managed to work out a second time. He felt even smaller than he was as Felix and Ryder loomed closer. It wouldn’t be long before they grabbed him. Squeezed him. Bruised him. It happened once. Though that was a younger kid who thought he was a toy… It would be worse this time.

“So… uh… do you want to talk to us?” Ryder asked. Felix leaned closer. Golden eyes narrowed as they studied Rhys. It made him shiver.

Rhys opened his mouth, but the words died as Felix stood up. The oldest of his foster siblings walked off. The steps, still heavy, made him lose his footing as he left. Ryder made a noise, a cough almost. The steps paused, but continued after a second barely any softer. It was enough he could climb to his feet at least.

“I guess you heard us talking,” Ryder let out an awkward laugh. Rhys nodded. It took a solid minute of silence before he realized Ryder hadn’t noticed his nod. Rhys looked up and saw Ryder looking completely away from him.

“I-I did,” Rhys said hoarsely. Ryder turned to look at him, moved closer. It was terrifying. Somehow more terrifying than Vitus. Rhys stumbled back, but managed to stay out from under the couch. “I-I said I did.”

Ryder looked sad. Before he could speak, Rhys was knocked off his feet again. Ryder looked up to stare at Felix as he approached. Thin fingers surrounded Rhys, it wasn’t reassuring. He wanted his parents. He wanted to get bigger. To stop wondering if this would get worse. When they’d be mean.

Ryder wrapped Rhys in his fingers. Rhys nearly screamed. Felix sat down, the weight would have thrown him without Ryder’s fingers. Right after they were gone. Rhys was left back on his own. No hands crowding him. Both of his foster brothers staring down at him.

“Felix, take it easy,” Ryder tried to laugh. Rhys could tell it was forced. Felix kept his eyes narrowed. 

A shrug. Then hands were heading towards Rhys again. He wanted to back away. Wanted to run. Escape. Hide. His body wouldn’t listen. The hands stopped in front of him. Not touching him. Slowly opened and revealed clothes that looked a lot more comfortable than what he had on. Admittedly his current clothes were stiff from the night before.

“Here, it should fit. I always make something small first,” Felix whispered. 

Rhys reached forward, grabbed the clothes and scrambled back under the couch. He changed quickly. These were a lot softer than what he had on. Warmer too. He felt more in control. Especially out of sight again. Easier than standing there, being stared at.

“So… is this why your clothes always get torn?” Felix asked. Rhys bit his lip. 

“Do we scare you?” Ryder said. Rhys started to shake. They did, everyone did. Except… he kind of trusted Vitus and Dabria. They were so kind, maybe he could trust Felix and Ryder. “Is… this why you flinch all the time?”

Nothing. Rhys couldn’t make his voice work. How could he explain that their hands reminded him of pain? That even now his body ached from all the times people found him. Times people didn’t know where he was and did something by accident. He… he wanted his mom and dad.

“...you know, there’s something like a game we could play.”

“Felix what are you-” Rhys walked forward during the silence, Ryder started to nod under Felix’s gaze “Right… that game.”

Slowly Ryder and Felix lied down. Their heads side to side. Rhys inched closer as the two got comfortable. This didn’t seem like a game to him. His curiosity spurred him closer. He wound up close enough he could touch Felix’s skin.

“Rhys,” Felix started, it made him stumble back, “the game is easy. You can ask us anything or tell us to do anything. We can’t lie and we have to do what you say.”

“Of course you could walk away, we’re not allowed to do anything without an order. Consider us your dedicated knights,” Ryder laughed.

“So… if I say you can’t look at me?” Rhys asked.

“We can’t look at you.”

Felix turned his head to show his eyes were closed. That was… kind of nice. He started to feel stupid again. It felt like it could be fun. As if he could have the chance to see what normal people were like when he was this small.

“Th-then stay still.”

Rhys waited for a few seconds. Neither one moved. So, he walked over to Felix’s side. He tugged at the cloth of the massive shirt. No movement, not even a reaction. He pulled himself up, it was a little hard. Kind of fun too. Felix twitched and Rhys slid. Still he managed to start climbing up his brother… Were they brothers?

After a few minutes Rhys sat on Felix’s stomach, panting. He’d never done something like that before it was harder than he expected. He looked up towards Felix’s face. Eyes were still closed. He could sort of see Ryder’s too. He started walking again.

“Aren’t you mad at me?” he asked.

“Why would I be?” Felix said.

“I lied… about me. The clothes too.” Felix stayed still. Rhys kept walking towards his face. His feet sunk in a bit with each step. Felix was soft, it was kind of nice being up on top of him. Like the few times he got to stay in bed when he was small. “I ripped them… when I got bigger.”

“You can-” Ryder started. He cut himself off. That wasn’t part of the game. It made Rhys smile.

“I’m relieved. I thought it was something else.”

Rhys kept walking forward. Didn’t stop until his hands were on Felix’s chin. He was a bit scared this close, but pressed on. He climbed right onto Felix’s face. Crawled over his cheek to sit near his eyes. They stayed closed even then.

“Isn’t this worse? What if I get big and hurt you?” Rhys mumbled. That made Ryder shift, but he didn’t talk. Didn’t sit up.

Felix didn’t say anything either. Rhys took it as a reason to move. He stood on Felix’s cheek. Stared at the closed eyes. He was tempted to tell him to open them. Instead he walked to where Ryder’s head was pressed against Felix’s. Carefully Rhys stepped onto his other maybe brother. Both Felix and Ryder stiffened when he did.

“Ryder, are you mad at me?” he asked. 

“Furious,” Ryder had a smile as he spoke. “You never told me you could do this. Imagine how much fun we could have with our games now.”

Rhys shivered at the idea. He knew it was meant in good fun, but that didn’t change what he knew it could mean. Ryder’s smile fell. He could feel the way his almost brother stiffened. The way the normal person held back from moving to probably grab Rhys. He found himself worried less about if any hands found him.

“What do you mean more fun?” Rhys asked. He couldn’t hide the fear in his voice.

“You could be the king yourself in chess. The adventurer fighting monsters, be the monsters even. Much more fun for us both.” Felix cleared his throat. “Of course, if you wanted to. Only if you wanted to.”

Rhys nodded to himself. Then walked over Ryder’s face. Ryder couldn’t stay still. He kept scrunching his nose. Rhys stumbled a few times. Fell to his knees just after passing Ryder’s nose. He slammed his hands on Ryder’s face with a smile.

“Stop moving, you're making it hard to walk,” Rhys said.

“Sorry, you’re tickling me. Maybe Felix should have brought you shorter pants,” Ryder laughed. Rhys climbed to his feet as Felix grumbled. Both stuck to the rules of this ‘game’.

After a few more attempts Rhys managed to reach Ryder’s chin. He jumped off to Ryder’s chest. It wasn’t as soft as Felix’s. Easier to walk on. He rushed down past where Ryder’s hands sat. A few stumbles as the chest rose and fell, but he made it. Looking down off the side it became a lot scarier to climb down. It wasn’t high enough he’d get hurt… At least he thought it wasn’t.

Rhys had to stay in control. He wanted this to work. For them to actually treat him like normal even now. So he had to climb down on his own. He started by lying flat on his stomach and crawling backwards towards Ryder’s side. As he did, he looked around and found Ryder’s hands curled into fists. Like he was forcing himself not to reach out…

That gave him the confidence for his next decision. He finished climbing down; more so he fell nearly there, but didn’t make enough of a grunt for Felix and Ryder to notice. He didn’t move at first. Took time to stare at the two giants. He could be big enough they’d look small to him. Another attempt to grow, but again it filled him with pain. He was about to be stupid.

A run back put distance between himself and Ryder before he said, “Sit up.”

Neither moved. He was too quiet. Another try.

“You both can sit up!” He shouted, hands cupped around his mouth. “J-just like before you were lying down!”

Felix moved first, probably confident Rhys wasn’t near. Ryder was a lot more careful. He placed his hands further out than normal, telegraphing where he’d go. It did start to look like they could have fun. Maybe he could have fun at any size.

Those thoughts fell away as Ryder started moving. Watching someone so close and so huge turn around. It made it easier to understand why others had so many issues with him. Usually they saw him bigger and waited until he got small to hurt him. Scared he’d hurt them instead. It made sense with how easy he was to hurt like this, but he’d never do that. He wasn’t going to be like the people he’d met all his life.

Once both Felix and Ryder were facing each other Rhys got moving. He ran right to the space between them he’d avoided earlier. A shiver ran down his spine as he looked up. Eyes closed, faces angled down. They were honest about this game. He… didn’t want to keep playing anymore.

“We… we can stop the game!” he said. There was a strange amount of relief that overtook him as golden and silver eyes looked down on him.

“Are you sure?” Felix asked. Rhys nodded. It was noticed this time. Another relief.

“Feeling better?” Ryder asked. Another nod. Ryder leaned back on his arms, away from Rhys.

“So… now what?”

“Now we maybe get you off the floor?” 

“H-how?”

“You tell us.”

The idea was terrifying. They hadn’t hurt him yet. He stared at Felix’s eyes. It was like when he fixed the ripped clothes. Worry, but nothing cruel. No judgment or anger. 

“Put your hand down and I, uhm, I can try to climb on,” Rhys said.

Felix nodded. The hand came down fast. Too fast. Rhys stumbled back. It didn’t make the hand disappear. The thick fingers towered nearby. It was hard to even consider moving towards them. His body responded though. Shaky steps forward until the heat of the skin was enough to make Rhys sweat.

He put his hands on the palm. He felt small, too small. Another attempt to grow, another bout of pain. One bad enough he almost screamed. If this stupid size thing of his made sense it would be easier. Better. He could be normal, he could have a family. He could be happy.

“Rhys, it’s ok. Let me help,” Felix’s voice made him shake. Warmth surrounded him. Immediately Rhys fought back, pushed against the skin and fingers. Against the things that could kill him in a moment. Against the things that always hurt him. At least until the night before.

“Felix stop you’re freaking him out. It didn’t work,” Ryder said. The warmth stayed close, but less suffocating.

“W-what do you mean it didn’t work?!” Rhys screamed. Now the terror was real. They were tricking him. He’d get hurt, bruised, trapped. Maybe Vitus and Dabria didn’t want to be his parents. Maybe they were tricking him too. Even if they were nice… Even if they said he could call them his mom and dad.

Rhys was left standing on the ground. The fingers were gone. Slowly the palm in front of him pulled away too. He fell right to his knees. It was easy to feel the burn on his skin of the eyes on him. It reminded him of too many things in the past. Times with his first family. Right after he learned he could change his size. Right after he got stuck too big and then too small…

“That was something we did with Delphia a long time ago,” Felix said. His voice was soft, warm. Easier to believe. “When she told us how she knew things she shouldn’t. It made her feel better.”

“We thought it might help. She only asked if we hated her. We should have known it was harder for you. We haven’t been your brothers your whole life like her,” Ryder said. 

“We’re… brothers?” Rhys asked. He managed to look up. Gold and silver, wide as dinner plates stared down at him. Full of pure shock.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Ryder’s fingers came down fast. Surrounded him. Closed in enough that Rhys started to struggle. He tried to grow, his body was wracked with pain, he was scared.

“Ryder!” The hand was gone. Rhys looked up, Felix held Ryder’s wrist in a tight grip. “Rhys, you’re just small. Nothing else changed.”

“But what if I was big?”

“Then you’d be like normal?”

Rhys shook his head. His whole body followed. That wasn’t it. They didn’t understand yet. None of them understood yet. He was so scared to admit it.  Mom and dad… Dabria and Vitus… they’d change their minds too.

“No, not that big,” Rhys said. He felt as the two leaned closer. He couldn’t make his voice get any louder. “Bigger. Bigger than you two. Bigger than mom and dad. Bigger than the house.”

Echoing silence. He remembered all the tight grips. The bruises. The times he was made to stay in a jar, terrified he’d grow and get hurt. It would happen. His body ached as if the hands had already grabbed him. He wanted to get bigger. To be safe. Two fingers touched him and he screamed.

“Rhys!” Ryder and Felix said. He kept shaking, the fingers stayed against him. Tears fell from his eyes.

“Please don’t hurt me,” Rhys begged. 

This time the fingers didn’t go away. Instead they increased. An entire fist wrapped around him. He couldn’t bring himself to fight this time. The warm, leathery skin was too much. More tears fell. The second they saw him he was at their mercy. Nothing would change. He’d just need to wait until he could grow again. Then he could run.

The warmth disappeared. Rhys fell, a scream caught in his throat. The freefall ended in a second. He met the soft cushion from the couch he honestly never thought he’d experience again. The two faces were right next to him. Metallic eyes staring at him. Still filled with worry.

“There, now we can’t hurt you even by accident,” Felix said. The smile on his face did help to calm Rhys down at least.

“Rhys, is that why you didn’t tell us?” Ryder asked. Rhys managed a nod. “We decided after you came here to be your brothers. Mom and dad didn’t ask us to, so we’re going to keep being your brothers even if you get placed with another family.”

“It’ll just be our turn to play the game if you get that big,” Felix said. Rhys tilted his head to the side. 

“Which game?” Rhys asked. Felix had a big smile.

“You do what we say, answer our questions without lying, until we end the game. Makes it fair, right?”

Rhys nodded. The two smiled at him. It didn’t feel as stupid to trust them. They didn’t really care. This could work. Maybe… maybe he had a family now. Felix and Ryder shifted to look away from him. Towards the tv. He was curious. Smiled widely as it flashed to life with a movie the two told him about.

“Movie night sound good?” Ryder asked.

“Yeah, yeah I think so,” Rhys said. He tried again to get a bit bigger. It didn’t work, his body hurt, but he was ok with it now. As the movie intro started Rhys felt the doubt eating at him starting to ebb. He was even looking forward to seeing Delphia.