#but in my defense she can’t talk so I can’t really include her in the generator

[incorrect-upon-a-witchlight]

Gricko: I had to pick up Hootsie early.

Frost: That’s alright. Has she been sick?

Gricko: No, not sick, she’s just very upset because she’s had a hard day.

Frost: Wait, why did she have a hard day?

Gricko: she took her two pet snails to school with her today, and she had the snails in her book bag. She let out the snails by the sink in the back of the classroom for some exercise, and Torbek, who was visiting the class that day, thought they were snails that had come inside from the playground, so he threw Hootsie’s snails out the window.

Frost: Oh my god.

Gricko: I know you are laughing, Frosty, but please act sad about it when we get home today.

Frost: I’ll try but that is hilarious.

Gricko: Yeah, I know. Stupid pet snails.

Gricko: I’m trying not to let Hootsie see me laugh.

[pucksandpower]

Fairytale

Charles Leclerc x Princess of Monaco!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc has everything he could ask for (off the track, at least) including a fairytale romance … except no one actually believes that his girlfriend is really his girlfriend

Charles sighs as he walks into the drivers’ lounge, bracing himself for the inevitable teasing. Ever since he had casually mentioned having a girlfriend, and more specifically who the girlfriend in question is, his friends have been merciless.

“Wow, if it isn’t Prince Charles in the flesh! Back from another romantic getaway with his imaginary princess,” Max laughs as he enters.

“Come on mates, lay off,” Charles pleads half-heartedly. He knows it is useless.

“I just don’t get it,” Lando chimes in. “There’s no shame in admitting that you’re single. We’re racing drivers, we don’t exactly always have time for relationships.”

“Maybe his standards are too high,” Pierre suggests. “He’s actually holding out for real royalty or something.”

The others laugh as Charles feels his face grow warm. If only they believed him.

“You know what you need?” Carlos grins. “A nice Spanish girl to set you up with. My sister’s friend Elena is single, I could give you her number.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “I told you, I have a girlfriend. Why is that so hard to believe?”

“Because we’ve never seen her!” Max exclaims. “You talk about her all the time but she never comes to races or appears in photos. She might as well be a unicorn.”

“Maybe she’s just embarrassed to be seen with Charles,” Lando teases.

Charles frowns, stung by Lando’s words. If only they knew the truth. The reality is that his girlfriend is extremely famous in her own right and values the little privacy she has left too much to be seen at races. Her life is already public enough without adding the scrutiny that anyone connected to a Formula 1 driver inevitably receives on top of it. Besides, she has her own royal duties to attend to.

“Come on guys, that’s unfair,” Pierre says gently, noticing Charles’ discomfort. “If Charles says he has a girlfriend, we should believe him.”

“Thank yo—” Charles starts to say with relief. At least someone is on his side.

“Even if she is imaginary,” Pierre adds with a smirk.

Charles groans and puts his head in his hands as the laughter starts up again. He can’t really blame them for not believing him.

You are basically a fairytale princess — beautiful, elegant, and kind. Not to mention an actual member of the royal family. Her Serene Highness Princess Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline of Monaco is the type of girl people write epic poems and songs about. Charles can hardly believe his luck that you had chosen him.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Daniel interrupts, taking pity on Charles. “Leave the poor man alone.”

“We’re just joking,” Max says defensively. “Charles knows we don’t mean anything by it.”

Charles gives Max a tight smile. “Sure.”

“Tell you what,” Daniel says, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “Bring your mystery girl to a race soon. We’ll all get to meet her and then you can finally prove these jokers wrong.”

Charles sighs. If only it were that simple. You have been tempted to attend races in the past but the scrutiny both of them would come under is just too much. You treasure the privacy your relationship allows. But maybe Daniel is right. Maybe it is time for you to finally meet his friends. After all, you are the love of his life. There is nothing to hide.

“Alright, deal,” Charles says finally. “I’ll ask her.”

The others exchange surprised looks, not expecting him to agree.

“Can’t wait to meet her,” Carlos says with a wink.

Charles rolls his eyes again but smiles. One way or another, he is going to prove to them that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination.

***

Charles is still thinking about you when he is suddenly accosted by Silvia, Ferrari’s Head of Communications, after practice.

“Charles! Just who I was looking for,” she says briskly. “I need to discuss something rather important with you.”

Charles suppresses a groan. Conversations with Silvia are never fun. “What’s up?” He asks with forced cheerfulness.

Silvia lowers her voice. “It’s about your relationship status. We feel it would be beneficial if you were seen dating someone … compatible.”

Charles’ eyebrows shoot up. “Compatible?”

“Yes. A model. Or perhaps an actress. Someone who would look good on your arm and boost your image.”

Charles folds his arms defensively. “What’s wrong with my girlfriend?”

Silvia waves a hand impatiently. “Yes yes, this alleged princess you keep mentioning. The problem, Charles, is that no one has seen her. No one knows if she is actually connected to you in any way. So, as far as we are concerned, for all intents and purposes, you are single.”

Charles frowns. This again. “I keep telling you that she’s really my girlfriend. Y/N is just very private.”

“Private women don’t date Formula 1 drivers,” Silvia says bluntly. “If she really was in a relationship with you, she would be here. But since that is clearly a figment of your imagination, we need to take steps.”

Charles feels his blood boil. How dare Silvia insult his relationship with Y/N? Question their connection?

“Here are profiles of suitable options,” Silvia continues, shoving a surprisingly heavy folder at him. Charles doesn’t open it.

“No.”

Silvia blinks. “No?”

“My relationship with Y/N is off limits,” Charles says firmly. “My personal life is exactly that — personal. Not to be exploited for PR.”

“Don’t be foolish,” Silvia snaps. “This is bigger than you. Your image reflects on Ferrari. We need to be able to control it.”

“No. What you need to do is back off,” Charles shoots back.

Silvia’s nostrils flare. Clearly she isn’t used to such defiance. “Charles, be reasonable—”

“I am being reasonable,” Charles interrupts. “I won’t pretend to date someone just because the team wants me to. I’m with Y/N. I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Silvia shakes her head in disgust. “You’re making a big mistake. Don’t come crying to me when this blows up in your face.”

She storms off, heels clicking angrily against the floor.

Charles takes a deep breath, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He can’t remember the last time he stood up to Silvia like that. It felt good but also nerve-wracking. He knows she won’t let this go easily.

His phone buzzes and his heart leaps when he sees it’s a text from you.

Heard you had a rough day. Wish I could be there to make it better. I love you 💋

Charles smiles, the tension in his shoulders easing. You always knew just what to say and when to say it.

He quickly types back.

I wish you were here too. No matter what anyone says, they can’t change my feelings for you. I love you so much ❤️

He hits send, imagining your smile as you read his text. It doesn’t matter what his team, the media, or even his fellow drivers think. His relationship with you is real and authentic. Someday he’ll find a way for you to be by his side. But for now, your private moments together are enough.

Charles knows staying with you is the right decision, PR be damned. You are his soulmate — the fairytale princess he never expected to find but thanks God every single day that he did. Your love is worth fighting for. And someday, when the time is right, he’ll finally be able to show the world that what you have together is very real.

***

Charles groans as he notices multiple missed calls from his brothers. He has been avoiding their calls lately, knowing they would just tease him mercilessly about his girlfriend. But he knows he can’t dodge them forever.

Taking a deep breath, he calls Arthur back.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t Prince Charles himself, taking time away from his busy schedule of dating princesses to spare a chat with us commoners,” Arthur says slyly upon answering.

Charles rolls his eyes. “Very funny. What do you want?”

“We just wanted to check in on our brother and see how life with Monegasque royalty is treating you,” Lorenzo chimes in. Charles realizes he must be on speaker.

“Oh yes, Princess Y/N,” Arthur says in an exaggerated swoony voice. “Our brother’s one true love since he was 15 years old and had that giant poster of her plastered on his wall.”

Charles feels his face flush. He knows exactly what poster Arthur is referencing — a stunning photo of you in a ballgown from a high society event years ago. Teenage Charles has ripped it out of a magazine and hung it up reverently in his room, gazing at it longingly.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he sputters. “I never had a poster.”

“Oh really?” Lorenzo laughs. “I seem to recall you cutting out every picture you could find of her and keeping a little scrapbook.”

Charles cringes internally. Okay, maybe his teenage obsession had been a bit … enthusiastic. But he can’t help that he had recognized you as his dream girl even then.

“Alright, so maybe I had a tiny crush on her,” Charles admits. “But it is not crazy that we ended up together.”

Arthur cackles. “You used to kiss her photos goodnight before going to bed! You were completely obsessed!”

“Remember how he tried to sneak into that royal gala at Salle des Etoiles to see her?” Lorenzo adds. “He was totally insane.”

Charles grimaces at the memory. Okay, not his finest moment.

“Face it Charles, you’ve been in love with the imaginary idea of Princess Y/N since you were in nappies,” Arthur teases. “No shame in admitting she wouldn't even give you the time of day now.”

Charles feels his frustration rising. Why does no one believe him?

“Because your so-called relationship makes no sense!” Lorenzo says, accurately reading his silence. “She’s a literal princess and you’re … you.”

“Gee, thanks,” Charles grumbles. He knows his brothers are just teasing but it still stings.

“Come on, just admit you made the whole thing up to get everyone off your back,” Arthur prods.

Charles sighs loudly. “For the millionth time, what we have is 100 percent real! Just because it seems unlikely doesn’t mean it didn’t happen. I don’t care if none of you believe me, I love her and she loves me.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“You alright there?” Arthur asks, his voice softening.

“Yes, I just wish everyone would stop questioning my relationship all the time,” Charles admits. “It hurts.”

“We’re only joking Charles, we don’t mean any harm,” Lorenzo says gently.

“I know,” Charles replies. “Doesn’t make it any easier to hear constantly though.”

“You’re right, we took the teasing too far,” Arthur says. “We’ll lay off from now on.”

Charles smiles slightly. “Thanks. And someday soon I will prove to you that it is real.”

His brothers are silent for a moment.

“Keep telling yourself that,” Arthur finally laughs.

Charles groans and runs a hand through his hair in frustration. Clearly nothing he says would convince his stubborn brothers that his relationship with you was real and not merely a childhood fantasy.

“Alright, well, I should get going,” Charles mumbles, eager to get off the phone.

“Chin up, we’re only teasing,” Lorenzo says lightly. “Have fun with your imaginary princess!”

Arthur and Lorenzo explode into more laughter as Charles quickly hangs up, his face burning. Someday, he will prove to them and everyone else that his amazing girlfriend isn’t just a figment of his imagination. No matter how long it takes.

***

Charles sinks into the familiar couch in his sports psychologist’s office, exhausted after a long day on the simulator and endless teasing from his team.

“Rough day out there?” Dr. Anderson asks kindly, noticing the strain on Charles’ face.

“That’s an understatement,” Charles sighs. “The car is just so slow this year. We keep trying new setups and tweaks but nothing helps. And the strategy is somehow even worse than the pace. It’s like the team wants me to fail.”

Dr. Anderson nods sympathetically. “That must be very frustrating. Tell me more about how it’s impacting you.”

Charles launches into a tirade about the endless issues with the car, the incompetent strategists, and the lack of proper communication from his engineers. Dr. Anderson listens patiently, letting him vent his pent-up anger and disappointment.

After a lengthy rant, Charles finally runs out of steam. “Anyway, it’s just been a terrible season,” he concludes glumly.

“I can certainly understand why you feel that way,” Dr. Anderson says. “It sounds like the team is letting you down in many ways.”

Charles nods, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders after unloading. It helps to talk about it with someone whose job is not to judge.

“Is there anything else bothering you lately?” Dr. Anderson asks gently. “Any other sources of stress?”

Charles hesitates. He and Dr. Anderson have been working together for years, ever since he joined Ferrari. He knows he can open up to her.

“It’s just … well, besides the team stuff, no one believes me about my girlfriend,” he admits.

Dr. Anderson raises her eyebrows. “I see. Tell me more about that.”

Charles explains the endless teasing from his fellow drivers, the manipulation attempts by the PR team, and the doubtful reactions from his own family. How despite his best efforts, no one seems willing to accept that he is really dating Princess Y/N of Monaco.

“It’s so frustrating!" He bursts out at the end. “I don’t know what else I can do to convince them that we are actually together.”

Dr. Anderson purses her lips, jotting down notes. “I can understand why their doubt would upset you. It must be painful to have your relationship questioned.”

“Exactly!" Charles exclaims, throwing his hands up. “You get it. I knew I could talk to you.”

Dr. Anderson gives him a sympathetic smile.

Charles leaves the appointment feeling much better, confident that his psychologist believes him and is on his side.

As he is exiting, Charles notices Dr. Anderson’s notebook left open on her desk. Before he can stop himself, his eyes scan the page and focus on his name.

He feels his heart sink as he reads.

Charles Leclerc: deflecting from pain of difficult season by creating elaborate fantasy relationship. Fixation on celebrity crush indicates deeper self-esteem issues. Recommend to confront delusion directly in next session.

Charles reels, shock and anger swirling through him. Not even his own psychologist believes him! She thinks he is living in some weird fantasy.

Swallowing the bitter taste in his mouth, Charles straightens his shoulders and walks out. He has never felt more alone and frustrated in his conviction. But he refuses to give up. No matter what anyone says, his love for you is real. And one day, somehow, he will prove it to the world.

***

Charles is back at his family home in Monaco during a rare few days off. He is puttering around the kitchen while his mother cooks dinner.

“Oh, by the way, Y/N is coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles mentions casually. “I want you all to finally meet her.”

Pascale laughs lightly without looking up from the stove. “Of course, sweetie.”

Charles frowns. “I’m serious, maman. She’ll be here in an hour.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure she will,” Pascale replies indulgently. Charles huffs in annoyance.

Just then, his brothers come into the kitchen, freshly showered after playing football outside.

“Hey Charles, how’s life with your imaginary girlfriend?” Lorenzo immediately teases.

“She’s actually coming over for dinner tonight,” Charles says tersely.

Arthur lets out a loud laugh. “Yeah right! Good one.” He grabs a piece of bread from the counter, still chuckling.

Charles throws his hands up in exasperation. “Why does no one ever believe me about her?”

“Boys, that’s enough,” Pascale chides gently. “Let your brother dream.”

Charles opens his mouth to retort but just then, the doorbell rings. His eyes widen.

“I’ll get it!" He yells, dashing for the door. He takes a deep breath before swinging it open to reveal you standing there casually in jeans and a sweater, looking effortlessly gorgeous.

“Surprise!" You laugh, pulling him into a tight hug. Charles melts into your embrace, all his stress and frustration fading away.

“You have no idea how happy I am to see you right now,” he murmurs into your hair.

You pull back to smile at him tenderly. “I’ve been looking forward to this for ages. I want your family to know how much I love you.”

Charles grins and takes your hand, leading your into the kitchen where his stunned family waits.

Pascale’s mouth is hanging open in shock. The piece of bread Arthur is holding falls to the floor with a dull thump.

“Y-your Serene Highness,” Pascale finally manages to stammer out, hastily wiping her hands on a towel. “What an honor, we weren’t expecting you ...”

She shoots an accusatory look at Charles, who throws up his hands defensively. “I told you she was coming!”

Pascale flushes. “Yes, well, I didn’t think … that is … we would have prepared ...”

You step forward gracefully, immediately putting Pascale at ease. “Please, just call me Y/N. I’ve been dying to meet Charles’ family.”

As you effortlessly charm his mother and brothers, Charles stands back watching with a satisfied smile. The shock and sheepishness on his family’s faces is vindicating after so many months of teasing and disbelief.

Charles has never been one to say “I told you so” but … I told you so.

***

The cheers of the crowd are deafening as the chequered flag waves for Charles at the Monaco Grand Prix. He can hardly believe it — finally, a win at his home race!

As he pulls into parc fermé and jumps out of the car, the emotions hit him. Pure elation at ending the long wait for a home victory. Relief at overcoming the team’s doubts. But most of all, excitement for what comes next.

The podium ceremony.

And with the Monegasque royal family presenting the trophies as usual, Charles knows exactly who will be handing him the winner’s trophy.

He can barely stand still through the anthems, eager for his moment with you. The weekend has been agony, so close to you yet having to pretend that there is nothing between the two of you.

But not anymore.

At last, the royal family walks onto the podium led by none other than Princess Y/N. Charles’ heart skips a beat at the sight of you gliding towards him in a figure-hugging red midi dress, sunlight glinting off your carefully styled hair. You somehow manage to become more and more beautiful every time he sees you.

Stopping in front of him, you give him a subtle wink before launching into the customary congratulatory speech. Charles nods along, not hearing a word as he zones out while admiring the stunning woman he gets to call his own.

At last, you turn to pick up the trophy. “It is my honor to present this trophy to our victor, who represents Monaco with pride in everything he does, Charles Leclerc,” you announce, holding it out to him with a brilliant smile.

In that moment, Charles throws all caution to the wind. As he accepts the trophy, he reaches out and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

The crowd below erupts in shocked cheers and screams. You melt into the kiss for a blissful moment before gently pulling back, your eyes sparkling. Charles grins at you breathlessly.

“Worth the wait?” He murmurs.

“Absolutely,” you whisper back, squeezing his hand. “I’m so proud of you, mon amour.”

Turning back to the roaring crowd, Charles wraps an arm around your waist and thrusts your linked hands into the air in triumph.

Looking out at the paddock, Charles sees the priceless dumbfounded looks on his fellow drivers’ faces. The Ferrari PR team looks ready to pass out in horror. Reporters are screaming questions and snapping photos frantically.

But Charles only has eyes for the radiant princess at his side. At long last, he has made your love public for the whole world to see.

Later, after celebrations around the circuit have started winding down in favor of moving to lounges and clubs for the night, Charles and you escape for a private moment together.

“That was quite the reveal,” you say with an amused quirk of your eyebrow.

Charles laughs. “I know, subtlety has never been my strong suit. I hope you don’t mind.”

You caress his face tenderly. “Of course not. I’m happy to finally be by your side. No more hiding.”

Charles kisses you deeply, all the love and longing of the past months pouring into it.

When you finally break apart, foreheads touching, he murmurs, “No more doubts. No more teasing. They all know now that you’re real and all mine.”

“Forever yours,” you whisper back. And seal it with another perfect kiss.

***

“I can’t believe it. I just … actually can’t believe it,” Max mutters, staring at the large screens around the paddock that are showing you and Charles gazing adoringly into each other’s eyes during the post-race interviews.

“Lord Perceval … dating an actual princess,” Carlos muses in disbelief.

“And not just any princess, his teenage celebrity crush!" Lando exclaims.

“I guess we owe him an apology,” Pierre says sheepishly.

“Big time,” Daniel agrees. “We gave him so much crap for making her up.”

“Speak of the devil,” Max mutters as Charles strides into the room, hand-in-hand with you.

An awkward silence descends on the group. Charles clears his throat, enjoying their obvious discomfort.

“I believe you all know my girlfriend, Her Serene Highness Y/N Grace Stephanie Caroline, Hereditary Princess of Monaco and Marquise of Baux. But you can just call her Your Serene Highness or Princess Y/N,” he says politely.

The guys mumble greetings, not quite meeting your eyes. You smile graciously. “You can just call me Y/N. Any friend of Charles is a friend of mine and there’s no need for titles around friends.”

Charles narrows his eyes. “Actually I don’t think that will be necessary. I believe they should maintain protocol and address you properly.”

You shoots him a look. “Darling, it’s fine, really. I want your friends to feel comfortable around me.”

But Charles crosses his arms, not budging. “No, it’s not fine. I must insist that they observe the formal mode of address for royalty.”

The drivers shift awkwardly again. You pull Charles aside with a soothing smile.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. “I’m trying to put them at ease.”

“I know but they deserve to squirm for a bit after how much they mocked us,” Charles whispers back petulantly.

You bite back a smile. “Don’t be silly. I know their teasing hurt but let’s move past it. Can you really blame them for thinking it sounds like a made up fairytale? Put yourself in their shoes.”

Charles sighs. “I guess you’re right ... I just want them to respect you.”

“They will, in time,” you say gently. “But forcing them to be overly formal won’t accomplish that. I’m still just me.”

Charles nods reluctantly. “Okay fine, we’ll do it your way.”

You turn back to the drivers who are trying to act natural and pretending that they didn’t just listen in on your conversation with a bright smile. “I’ve heard so much about all of you,” you say. “Charles speaks very highly of his fellow drivers.”

“We’re, uh, happy to finally meet you too,” Max manages to get out.

“Yeah, congrats mate,” Daniel offers weakly.

More awkward silence follows. Charles smirks, deciding to twist the knife a bit more.

“I know you all had your doubts about me landing a catch like Y/N,” he says casually. “But I can’t blame you. Even I can hardly believe someone so incredible would fall for me.”

He gazes at you adoringly as you blush prettily while the drivers fidget uneasily.

“Anyway, as you can now see, she’s real and we are happier than ever!" Charles concludes brightly.

“We’re really sorry for not believing you,” Lando bursts out sincerely. “And all the teasing.”

The others chime in with apologies and congratulations. Charles graciously accepts, reassuring them no hard feelings.

After you have throughly charmed them all and departed, the group surrounds Charles excitedly.

“Alright, you have to give us all the details,” Max demands. “How did you meet? How did you get her to go out with you? When did it get serious?”

Charles just laughs. “It’s a long story. But the important thing is that she’s the only one for me. Despite everyone doubting us, our love was real from the start.”

“Pretty epic to have a real life princess as your soulmate,” Pierre says dreamily.

“Just remember you knew me back when you all thought she was imaginary,” Charles jokes.

“We’ll never live it down,” Carlos groans goodnaturedly.

Charles smiles, feeling lighter and happier than he has in ages. The long struggle to prove himself has been worth it. Now he has everything — the win, the girl, and the utter shock and joy of proving to the world that even his wildest dreams can come true.

And this is only the beginning for him and his beloved princess.

[eddiethebrave]

secret admirer part fourteen

442 words

one two three four five six seven eight nine ten eleven twelve thirteen

On Saturday, Steve invites Carol over. He would usually hang out with Tommy (which has included Carol more often than not recently, anyway) but he’s visiting family over the weekend. Steve didn’t want to sit around the house or go out alone and he figured there’s no reason he and Carol can’t hang out without Tommy there, too. 

He’d never admit it to either of them, but he’s honestly liking her better lately, and would prefer her company to his, anyway. 

Tommy’s always been an asshole, but he’s growing more and more, like, genuinely mean as the days go on. For no reason, too. It’s kinda scary to see the kid he used to climb trees and learn how to swim with so filled with anger that he’s willing to hurt people to get temporary relief. Anger that he likes to take out on kids at school who do nothing to him. 

Carol isn’t angry. She’s kinda entertaining, actually. 

“Then she started talking about some guy who cut off his own ear and killed himself! Like, what?! What does that have to do with anything? All I said was that I don’t see why we have to make stupid drawings of ourselves!”

Steve nods along as he shuffles through his fridge trying to decide on something to make for lunch.  

“And she- Oh my god,” Carol cuts herself off. “Did you see what she was wearing?”

Steve pulls out sandwich supplies and shakes his head. “Nope. What was she wearing?” he asks, knowing damn well what she was wearing. 

“A sweater vest. With a tie!” 

Steve snorts. “Oh, the horror.”

“And she had these rings- Well, actually, the rings were kind of cute, but her shoes were all marked up with pen. Pen!”

“You kinda sound like-” Steve cuts himself off when he realizes where he was going with that sentence. 

You kinda sound like me when I think about Eddie.

When he looks over to Carol to see if she noticed his slip up, he finds her looking at him with her eyes narrowed from where she’s sat on his counter even though he’d protested (No, no, no, come on! I eat there!). He clamps his teeth down on his cheek. 

“Sound like what?” she asks. The question by itself would be innocent, but combined with her crossed arms and glare, it comes off as defensive. 

“Like you really don't like her,” he deflects and turns back to the sandwiches. 

From the corner of his eye, he sees Carol slump. She scoffs. “Yeah, ‘cause I don’t.”

Steve can practically see her pout. 

It’s quiet for a moment. Then, “Ham or Turkey?”

fifteen

tag list (closed)

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sorry if i missed anyone!!

[vampireimiko]

i loved your most recent steve work! i was wondering if i could request an eddie work similar to that where the hellfire club just doesn’t believe that he could have a gf

Full of Surprises

warnings, none! note, this was fun to write !! also i didn't include the whole hellfire club i didn't feel like writing the extras in💔

"Eddie, you expecting a call or something? You keep staring at the phone like a maniac." Mike pointed out.

"You noticed too?! I didn't wanna say anything but holy shit, every few seconds he stares at it." Dustin agrees.

Eddie rolled his eyes, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. "Yeah I'm uh, just waiting on my girlfriend to call." he muttered, his tone nonchalant, but the room instantly fell into a stunned silence.

Mike’s eyes widened. “Girlfriend?”

Dustin snorted, crossing his arms. “Sure, Eddie. And I’m dating Madonna.”

Eddie shot them both an annoyed glance. “I’m serious.”

The skepticism in the air was palpable. Lucas raised an eyebrow from across the room, tossing a pencil onto the table. “Eddie Munson... with a girlfriend? That’s rich.”

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eddie asked, defensively, leaning forward.

Dustin shrugged, an innocent grin on his face. "C'mon, man. If you had a girlfriend, we would’ve heard about it by now."

"And met her," Lucas added.

Eddie groaned, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. "Not everything revolves around you guys, y’know. Some relationships are private."

Dustin, Lucas, and Mike exchanged skeptical glances before bursting into laughter. "Yeah, right! What, does she go to another school or something?" Mike teased.

"Yeah there's no way in hell Eddie Munson gets bitches." Dustin laughed.

"Well news flash, Dusty boy! I do infact gets bitches. Not that my girlfriends a bitch or anything." He said adding that last part very quickly. Even though you weren't there, he'd never disrespect you like that or in any way for that matter.

Dustin raised his hands in mock surrender, still grinning. "Okay, okay, so you get bitches. Prove it."

"Yeah, let’s see some evidence," Lucas added with a smirk. "I mean, it’s kinda hard to believe when we’ve never even seen her. Is she invisible or something?"

Eddie huffed, tapping his fingers on the table, clearly annoyed but trying to keep his cool. "She’s not some trophy I need to parade around, alright? She’s busy. She’s got... a job! School stuff too."

"Uh-huh, and I’m guessing she also lives in Canada and only writes letters?" Mike quipped, earning a round of chuckles from the others.

Eddie sighed dramatically, throwing his hands in the air. "Fine! You wanna meet her so bad? She’ll come by Hellfire next week."

Dustin raised an eyebrow, his grin widening. "Oh, really? Can’t wait."

"Yeah yeah, I'll believe it when I see it. Now enough about his imaginary girlfriend, I'm hungry." Mike interrupted.

The next week couldn’t have come fast enough for the Hellfire boys. The anticipation was thick in the air as they sat around the table, pretending to focus on the campaign, but their eyes constantly darted to the door. Even Eddie, who usually basked in his Dungeon Master role with enthusiasm, seemed a little distracted, checking his watch more than usual.

Dustin nudged Lucas under the table. “You think he’s actually gonna pull through? Or are we about to witness the most embarrassing bluff in Hellfire history?”

Lucas smirked. “I dunno, man. He’s been pretty confident. It’s either the truth, or he’s about to go down in flames.”

The whole week leading up to this very moment, Eddie talked about you to the guys. They obviously did not believe him one bit. Eddie had told them about some of your hobbies, favorite movies, he was even close to telling them where you worked but quickly decided against that.

They always asked him to just give out your name, but then they'd know who you were obviously. Eddie wanted to keep a little bit of mystery surrounding your identity. News flash, you were a quite known person at Hawkins High.

"Can't wait to see him squirm either way," Mike added with a grin.

Eddie, sensing their whispers, glared across the table. “You know, you guys are real supportive friends.”

“We’re just preparing for disappointment, Eddie,” Dustin shot back, hands raised. “Don’t take it personally.”

Eddie opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, there was a knock on the door. The room fell silent, and all eyes shot toward the entrance. Eddie’s cocky grin returned as he stood up, walking over to the door with a confidence that even had Dustin second-guessing his skepticism.

He swung the door open, and there she was—you. Dressed casually, you gave Eddie a warm smile before stepping into the room, completely unaware of the stunned expressions plastered across the faces of his friends.

“Hey, babe,” Eddie greeted you, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. “Told you I wasn’t making her up.”

The room was deathly quiet, the boys blinking in disbelief as you walked further into the room.

Mike was the first to break the silence. “Holy shit. Y/N Y/LN?

You laughed softly, glancing at Eddie before turning back to the group. “I take it he’s been bragging about me?”

“More like we didn’t believe you existed,” Lucas admitted, still wide-eyed. "Much less did we expect the girlfriend to be you?!"

Dustin was still frozen, mouth hanging open in shock. “Eddie... how?”

Eddie grinned smugly, draping an arm around your shoulders. “Told you, Dustin. I get bitches. Not that I'm calling you a bitch." He quickly clarified, knowing you didn't tolerate any type of getting called out of your name.

You playfully elbowed him in the side. “I know you'd never do anything like that."

Eddie chuckled, raising his hands in mock surrender. “Noted.”

"Anyway, nice to meet you guys! I've seen you around and Eddie talks about you guys all the time." You exclaimed cheerfully, extending a hand to the nearest person to you, which happened to be Mike.

Mike, still in shock, shook your hand cautiously, like he couldn’t quite believe you were real. “Uh, nice to meet you too…”

Lucas stood up, still blinking. “Okay, I have to ask—how the hell did Eddie Munson land a girlfriend like you?”

You laughed, glancing over at Eddie with a playful smile. “What can I say? He’s full of surprises.”

Eddie grinned proudly, leaning against you. “See? Told you guys. I’m not just some lonely metalhead.”

Dustin finally regained his composure, shaking his head. “This has to be some kind of cosmic glitch. I mean, Y/N Y/LN... and Eddie Munson? Something isn't right."

Lucas nodded in agreement, still processing. “Seriously, I gotta know—what did he say to win you over?”

You smirked, crossing your arms. “Well, he didn’t try too hard, if that’s what you’re thinking. Eddie’s actually... kind of sweet once you get past all the theatrics.”

Eddie gave a mock bow. “Thank you, thank you. Theatrics are part of the charm.”

You giggled and gave him a loving look.

Mike snorted. “Yeah, we’re still trying to figure out what charm you’re talking about.”

Eddie shot Mike a look, then turned back to you, clearly soaking in the validation. “See what I deal with?”

You shook your head, laughing. “They’re not so bad, Eddie. Just a little... doubtful.” You glanced at the group, your expression softening.

Dustin nodded. “You’re like, Hawkins royalty compared to... well, Eddie.”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Eddie a curious look. “Royalty, huh?”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but you could tell he secretly liked the sound of it. “They exaggerate. A lot.”

You smiled warmly at him. “Well, royalty or not, he’s good to me. And that’s what matters.”

Mike finally cracked a grin. “Alright, alright. Maybe you’re not completely full of shit, Eddie.”

Dustin laughed, pointing a finger. “Still can’t believe it though. You lucked out, Munson.”

Eddie smirked, wrapping his arm around your waist. “Told you, man. I’m full of surprises.”

additional note ! my requests are open if you wanna have me write something<3

𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Wicked Games 4

Warnings: non/dubcon, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Steve Rogers

Summary: you had a one night stand. Or did you?

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You wait. And wait. And wait. 

Each day, each week, your hope dwindles. Barrett doesn’t change. He’s not going to change. You know for sure as you watch him storm out. 

That’s why you didn’t talk to him sooner. It always ends like this. He gets defensive, you get emotional, and it all erupts. If he would just listen! 

You sigh and hold your chin in your hand. You look around at your small apartment. Even when you’ve just cleaned, it feels cluttered. You hate this place. You feel trapped. Or maybe that’s your relationship. Probably, both. 

You don’t think it was that bad to ask for a bit of understanding. All you want is for him to communicate. Instead, he sits on all his gripes until the bubble over in another rant about the squeaky bathroom faucet or the way you fold his shirts. It’s always on you. You’re the one who has to make him happy. Never the other way around. 

This time, it wasn’t the dishes or the mopping or the recycling. Nope. You’re not attentive enough. You’re depriving him. You’re punishing him by not having sex with him after working overtime four nights out of five. It can’t be that you’re tired or hurt. No, it’s an attack on him. 

That’s where it all fell apart.

You tried. Once you got past the frustration and tried to just let the waters calm. When you started talking to him again and fell back into your routine. You were both too busy to keep the fight going. And a few nights, you let him initiate but something would keep you from going all the way. 

Something... 

You saw Wendy last week. She didn’t mention anything about the night you went out. Didn’t mention a guy. She said she had fun and you should do it again. You told her you can’t afford it. Besides, you’re too tired. She called you boring. She’s not wrong. 

You get up and distract yourself. Well, it’s not really for you, is it? You’ll clean everything from corner to corner so he has nothing to complain about. You don’t need him to nitpick another reason to hound you. 

So much for time off. Once more you’re spending it in misery. You finish vacuuming then spray the couch with some freshener. Feeling accomplished but not less addled, you go to the bedroom and pull out some clothes for tomorrow. You’ll go to bed early and get a head start. If you’re lucky, you’ll be asleep before he drags his sorry ass home. 

You yawn as you stare at the time. It’s barely five o’clock and you could keel over. These days, you’re beat to the bone. You can’t remember the last time when you didn’t feel like a sack of dirt. You put your work clothes on the dresser then grab a fresh towel for the shower. 

You wash up, soothed by the warm water, and emerge in a hazy cloud. You go through the motions of applying the discount bin toner and moisturizer. You feel a little fresher. 

You tuck into bed and scroll on your phone for a while. Six-thirty. You black the screen and close your eyes. It takes as much to put you to sleep. 

You dream about flashing lights and the clink of glass. You’re swaying to a drone of music, spinning and swirling. The place is painted in streaks of colours as you keep moving. And when you manage to stop, the room turns on an axis, keeping you dizzy. 

Arms wrap around you from behind and pull you back into a thick body. You can’t escape. You look down and know those aren’t your husband’s hands. Where are you? Who is holding onto you? 

You try to turn around but it’s impossible. You’re stuck in the strange embrace as the neon lights melt and the air pulses with shadows. You push on the arms around you and wriggle desperately.

“Let me go,” you beg, “let me go.” 

Your words rise to a shriek and you wake up with a start. There’s a figure in the room watching you, as if waiting for you to wake up. You almost scream for real as Barrett stares at you. He doesn’t ask if you’re okay before he turns away. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he grumbles. 

You don’t argue as you catch your breath and lower yourself back to the pillows. You can smell the tinge of beer left behind. He’s been drinking. You can’t begrudge him that, not really. Last time it got bad, you did the same thing. At least he came home. 

You cringe. No. Stop. Nothing happened. No one can prove it happened. Not even you. So, it didn’t. 

Your stomach mulches and you turn onto your side. The nausea roils in your stomach. You must be hungry. You didn’t eat. Yet the thought of doing so makes you even sicker. You burp and swallow down the mouthful of acid that sears your throat. 

Stress. It’s stress. And it’s not going to get any better. Not with everything you’re running away from. 

[baelabong]

ᴛᴀᴍɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴏʀᴍ - rooftop calm

(ʜᴏᴛʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ ᴍɪɴᴊᴇᴏɴɢ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ)

Plot: minjeong doesnt like getting told off, y/n likes telling minjeong off

Notes: just a little part in mj and y/n’s story

masterlist || next

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As Minjeong sat in class, trying to focus on the lesson, she could feel the irritation building inside her. The teacher was droning on, completely oblivious to the fact that half the class had already checked out, including her. She could barely concentrate as it was, and the teacher's monotonous voice wasn't helping.

But then, the teacher called on her. "Minjeong, care to answer the question?"

She blinked, not having a clue what the question was. She hadn't been paying attention. "I... I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

The teacher sighed, exasperation clear in their tone. "This is exactly what I'm talking about, Minjeong. You need to start taking your education seriously. Your grades have been slipping, and it’s like you’re not even trying."

Minjeong's jaw clenched. It wasn’t like she didn’t care, but the way the teacher was speaking to her, as if she was some lost cause, hit a nerve. "I do try," she retorted, her voice cold. "But maybe if your lessons were more engaging, I'd actually care about what you're saying."

The teacher’s eyes narrowed. "Excuse me? You think this is my fault? You’re the one who needs to put in the effort. If you can’t keep up, maybe you should consider whether you belong in this class at all."

The words felt like a slap in the face, and Minjeong could feel her temper flaring, her control slipping. "Maybe if you weren’t so focused on belittling students, they'd actually want to learn from you!" she shot back, her voice rising.

The classroom fell silent, every eye now on her, but she didn’t care. The teacher's face turned a deep shade of red, their composure cracking. "That’s enough, Minjeong. If you don’t change your attitude, you’ll be looking at detention. I suggest you watch your mouth before you dig yourself into a hole you can’t get out of."

Minjeong could feel the heat rising in her cheeks, her anger reaching its peak. She wanted to say something more, to really let loose, but she knew that if she didn’t leave now, she’d end up in even bigger trouble. So instead, she pushed herself up from her seat, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. "I’m done here," she muttered, turning on her heel and storming out of the classroom without waiting for permission.

The door slammed behind her, and she heard the murmurs start up as soon as she was gone, but she didn’t care. All she could focus on was the fire in her chest, the frustration boiling over as she stormed down the hall, her fists clenched and her mind racing with all the things she wished she’d said.

She storms up to the school rooftop, her fists clenched and her mind racing with anger. The door to the rooftop slams open, and she strides to the ledge, barely noticing the city sprawling out beneath her. Her chest heaves with each breath as she replays the argument in her head, thinking of all the comebacks she wished she’d thrown at the teacher.

A few minutes later, Y/N quietly follows her up to the rooftop. Despite being the shorter and meeker-looking one between the two, Y/N steps forward with confidence, knowing exactly how to handle her fiery girlfriend. When Minjeong hears the door open again, she turns sharply, her glare immediately falling on Y/N.

“What do you want?” Minjeong snaps, her voice still laced with anger. “You’re not going to lecture me too, are you? Because I’m not in the mood for any of that right now.”

Y/N raises an eyebrow, completely unfazed. “What, so now you’re taking your anger out on me? Real mature, Minjeong.”

Minjeong scoffs, crossing her arms defensively. “Maybe I am. You don’t get it, Y/N. You weren’t there. That teacher—”

“Enough,” Y/N interrupts, her voice calm but firm. Despite her smaller stature, there’s an undeniable authority in her tone that makes Minjeong pause. “You’re upset, I get it. But don’t take it out on me. I’m not your punching bag.”

Minjeong opens her mouth to argue but then closes it, the heat in her glare faltering under Y/N’s steady gaze. Y/N steps closer, not backing down even as Minjeong towers over her.

“Now, are you going to keep acting tough, or are you actually going to talk to me?” Y/N asks, her tone softer now but still carrying that unyielding edge.

Minjeong clenches her jaw, feeling a mix of frustration and something else—something that makes her heart beat a little faster. She looks away, unable to hold Y/N’s gaze any longer. “Fine. Just… fine.”

Satisfied, Y/N plops down beside her on the ledge, their height difference making the contrast between them even more apparent. Without saying anything, Y/N pulls out a cold drink from her bag and hands it to Minjeong.

"Here," Y/N says, her teasing tone returning. "Maybe this’ll cool you down."

Minjeong hesitates, then takes the drink with a huff, though she avoids looking directly at Y/N. “Still mad, huh?” Y/N continues, leaning back on her palms. “Stop being such a baby.”

Minjeong shoots Y/N a sharp look. “I’m not being a baby! You didn’t hear what he said to me! He was completely unfair—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Y/N interrupts again, waving her hand dismissively. “I get it. But seriously, you need to stop sulking.”

Minjeong groans, taking a long sip of the drink to keep from snapping back. They sit in silence for a few moments, with only the sounds of the city below filling the air. Slowly, Minjeong’s anger starts to ebb away, leaving her feeling tired and drained.

She sighs, leaning her head against Y/N’s shoulder. “Let’s just leave school early,” she murmurs, her voice losing its edge. “I can’t go back in there. Not today.”

Y/N glances at her, seeing the tough exterior that Minjeong usually wears so well starting to crack. For a moment, Y/N feels a pang of sympathy, but she quickly pushes it aside. Shaking her head, she tightens her grip on Minjeong’s hand.

“Nope,” Y/N says firmly. “We’re not skipping. You’re going to face this head-on.”

Minjeong whines, burying her face in Y/N’s shoulder. “But Y/N, please… I really don’t want to go back in there.”

Y/N sighs but doesn’t budge. “Stop whining. I’m not letting you run away just because you’re upset. Plus I have class too silly. We’ll go back together after you’ve calmed down.”

Minjeong pouts, her tough exterior fully crumbling as she snuggles closer to Y/N. “You’re so mean,” she mumbles, her voice muffled.

Y/N chuckles, wrapping an arm around her. “Yeah, but you love me anyway.”

They sit in comfortable silence for a while longer, with Y/N’s steady presence helping Minjeong calm down completely. Finally, Minjeong lets out a long, resigned sigh.

“Fine, you win,” she concedes, though there’s a hint of a smile in her voice now. “But if that teacher says anything else, I’m not holding back.”

Y/N grins, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of Minjeong’s head. “Deal. But no more running away, okay?”

“Okay,” Minjeong agrees softly, feeling a sense of relief wash over her. “One more lecture though and he’ll actually-“

“Nuh uh baby, just hush”, y/n cuts her off

[nivisdreaming]

4 words

Hard dick

Grey Sweatpants

exactly. you get me.

Summary: Eddie’s thrilled to finally have his own place. Or at least, mostly his, since he does have a new roommate. A roommate that’s starting to give him some troubles, since she can’t seem to keep it down, and the walls aren’t all that thick. But, maybe she doesn’t actually mind all that much?

WC: ~1.8k

Tags: Roommates to lovers, mutual pining, a touch of emotional angst, fem!reader, 2nd POV, surprisingly un-smutty, cliffhanger, but still, exhibitionism, voyuerism, daddy kink, f!masturbation, vibrator use, mentioned m!masturbation, dry humping, bondage, heavy dom/sub undertones, implied oral (m!receiving)

“I’m gonna have to fucking move out. That’s my only option.” Eddie rests his forehead against the cool metal of the table in front of him with a thump.

“Don’t be so dramatic, I’m sure there’s something else you two can work out!”

“He has plenty of options, Stevie, however he is incapable of all of them because they include talking to pretty girls, something Edward Munson clearly has a chronic phobia of,” Robin chimes in as she lifts a french fry to her mouth. Eddie rolls his eyes despite knowing she can’t see them and lets out a long groan.

“What would I even say to her?? ‘Hey by the way, our apartment has the thinnest fucking walls in existence and I can hear every time you get off and it keeps getting me fucking hard so I would appreciate if you could not!’”

Steve makes an indigent sound. “Wait, hold your horses, you never mentioned this was a mutual thing Munson! This isn’t just a noise complaint, this is you dragging your roommate into your kink escapades, handcuffs on the wall guy!-“ He’s cut off by Robin bursting into laughter and throwing a playful punch to his arm.

Eddie grumbles a complaint and looks upwards just to fold his arms across his chest in annoyance. A pout crosses his face as Steve chuckles with Robin. “In my defense, it’s not like she didn’t get there on her own just fine,” he mutters, giving another roll of his eyes.

Robins jaw drops, “Wait, hold on, what?” Steve’s eyes fly between Eddie and Robin as he tries to puzzle out Eddie’s statement, his hand frozen over the basket of fries he was reaching into.

Now it’s Eddie turn to laugh, just glad he can finally find some humor out of this interaction with his friends. “I know I told you guys she was the total innocent type when I moved in, but, based on what I’ve been hearing… I assumed wrong,” he says with a smirk. He looks between Steve and Robin, both of them stunned into silence for a moment while Eddie takes another sip of his drink. “It would be easier if she was like, a vanilla girl or something, but god help me, I’m not allowed a bit of that Munson luck for once in my life. I just get to listen to her practically begging to be taken while knowing she’s not actually mine to be taken.”

Robin’s thoughts finally seem to reboot as she gives a clearing shake to her head. Steve shoots a nervous glance around them, trying to make sure there’s no children in range who could possibly overhear this, while she takes a long slurp from her milkshake. “Okay, but consider, could she be?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. “Could she be what?”

“Yours for the taking, dummy. If you’re really.. overhearing as often as you say you are, there’s no way someone else has a claim on her, right? I fail to see the blockage here. Besides the you part of the equation, but that’s fixable bud!”

“Hey! First of all, ouch, my ego! Second of all, I’m not gonna fuck my roommate. I’m not even going to ask to fuck my roommate, because that’s weird and like you said I’m me!” Eddie scoffs and downs the rest of his soda. “Neither of you are helpful, and I’m not spending the last 13 minutes of my lunch break being made fun of,” he climbs out of his seat and pulls on his jacket, “Sayonara, suckers!” He turns to leave, but Steve grabs him by the sleeve.

“Eddie. Look, I know Robin and I joke, but seriously. I’ve seen how you look at her and how she looks at you. You’re not as bad as you think, you know that? This isn’t Hawkins High anymore, you’re not ‘The Freak’, you’re Eddie Munson, the cool metal-rocker she shares an apartment with.” Eddie shoots him an unimpressed stare. “I’m not saying do anything you don’t want to, okay? Just… keep your options open, okay?” Steve pulls away from Eddie to scratch the nape of his neck nervously. Eddie nods and sidesteps around him, leaving Steve to depart back to Robin while he briskly makes the 10 minute walk back to the garage.

—

By the time Eddie makes it home from work his roommate is already holed up in their room, but when Eddie enters his shared-wall bedroom, he is met with silence on her end.

He tosses his jacket off and flops onto the bed, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he reflects on his day. Work was the usual, a few bitchy customers but nothing out of the ordinary. It’s his lunch with Robin and Steve that’s really eating at him, running circles around his mind and planting ideas in his head that previously he would have only entertained as fantasies. He hates it, how dirty it makes him feel, to imagine his innocent, introverted roommate pinned underneath him and making those sweet mewling sounds at his touch instead of her own, but he can only suppress his urges for so long, especially when he hears the mechanical buzzing start sounding through the wall.

They didn’t necessarily start as dirty thoughts. At first, he was imagining making dinner for you, stirring a big pot of mac and cheese while you sat next to him atop the counter, legs swinging back and forth while he let you ramble your day just to enjoy the sound of your voice in his ears. Then it shifted to eating the dinner in front of TV, you curled up into his side while you ate and giggled at one of the cheesy rom-coms you roped him into watching. Then he was placing a kiss on your cheek just to watch you get flustered, and you were getting brave and leaning in for a full kiss, and if he squeezed his eyes shut he could imagine the sighs coming from the other room were his to inhale. His breath to steal from your lips as he trailed down your neck, marking you with red and purple fireworks until there was no covering up how he was corrupting your innocence. His.

A high-pitched whimper snapped him out of his daydreams, followed by a harsh huff. He barely had time to register that the whirring sound had ceased when a knock came from his door as it was nudged open.

“Hey Eddie? Do you have any batteries I can borrow?” Eddie flies up to a sitting position, making eye contact with the meek figure standing in his doorway. You’ve got a blanket wrapped around your body, held together with a tight grip in the front to keep yourself completely covered. Or, almost completely covered, because the blanket bunches behind you as you shuffle, revealing your bare legs up to the tops of your knees. Eddie can’t seem to keep his eyes on yours anymore.

You shift uncomfortably under his gaze, but take a step into the room, not away. “Eddie, you’re… staring,” you take another step forward, “This.. might seem a bit weird, but I really like those pants on you. Especially like this.”

Eddie lets out a high pitched squeak as he takes in his own grey sweatpants, and the outline of his erection that clearly showing through them. He lurches to grab a nearby pillow to cover himself, but a hand around his wrist stops him. In front of him, you’ve allowed the blanket to fall away in favor of halting his movement, revealing yourself to be nothing but a pair a white cotton panties with a very visible wet splotch. “Just wait a second,” you release his hand and lean over to shut his door and lock it. When you turn back around, Eddie is wide-eyed and disheveled, as if starstruck by you. “I was gonna let you make the first move with all of this, but I think the endorphin rush has got me all confident, so I’m just gonna go for it,” You return to Eddie’s bedside and place one hand on each of his shoulders before swinging your leg across his lap and sitting directly atop him, laying your crotch right on his.

Eddie gasps and involuntarily bucks his hips upwards at the sudden pressure, further encouraging you. “I know you’ve been listening to me. The thin walls thing goes both ways, I can hear when you get off with me. Was hoping you wouldn’t make me ask for it, but I can’t wait anymore,” you whisper in his ear as you begin to grind, rutting your hips against his to stimulate your clit. You sigh happily at the feeling of his hands trailing up your back, glad to finally receive his warm touch, but his grip on your waist is quick to turn harsh as he forces your movement to stop. You’re ripped away from him as he flips you over, pushing you to your back so he can place his weight on your own.

“You wanted me to ask? All this time, all I had to do was ask?” He gathers both your wrists in one hand and pins them above your head while the other finds purchase pinching and pulling at your exposed nipple, triggering you to whine and squirm under him. His eyes meet yours again, and the uncharacteristically dark look in them sends a shiver through you. “God, darling, I am going to make you beg. Trust me, when I’m done with you, there will be no asking, just you pleading for mercy.” He releases your hands and pulls away from your breasts to unbuckle his belt and tug it off, fastening it into a set a restraints that you willingly slip your wrists through. “Safeword is Metallica. You can’t talk, you slap me twice anywhere. Either way, that’s the only way this stops. Am I clear?” You nod as a response, but a soft palm cradles your cheek and lifts your chin upwards.

“Words, princess. While you still have them.” His thumb strokes a soothing pattern along your jaw.

You can feel your heartbeat racing, and the fuzzy feeling in your head makes a full sentence hard to put together, but the gentle touch lures you to a moment of grounding. “Yes, I understand Eddie. Metallica or two slaps if I can’t take anymore.”

He snickers and gives a gentle pat to your cheek before pulling back. “Make that a ‘sir’ or a ‘daddy’ next time, sweet girl.” He climbs off from on top of you to tug off his t-shirt and sweats, leaving his inked skin and hairy chest for you to ogle at. You tug on your restraints with a slight whine, disappointed by your inability to reach out and touch him.

“On your knees, baby. Your hands may be indisposed, but I can still put that useful little mouth of yours to work.” Eddie pulls his boxers off from around his ankles and tosses them behind him as he stands at the edge of the bed. You shuffle towards him eagerly.

“Yes daddy.”

[isak-dot-gov]

Balancing Act

Pairing: Rhea Ripley x Reader

Word count: 1018

My masterlist :)

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In the world of WWE, Rhea was a powerhouse. Her presence in the ring was commanding, and her dedication to her career was unwavering. It was one of the things you admire most about her. However, lately, her focus on her work has begun to overshadow your relationship. The late nights, the constant travel, and the endless commitments were starting to take their toll, and you felt like you were being left behind.

It had been weeks since you had had a meaningful conversation with her. Every evening was spent waiting for her to come home from a gruelling schedule, only for her to arrive exhausted and barely able to stay awake. The time you did spend together was often cut short by urgent phone calls or unexpected obligations. You tried to be understanding, to support her through the demanding nature of her job, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the growing distance between you.

One evening, after Rhea had come home later than usual, you found yourself at your wit’s end. She walked through the door, her face drawn with fatigue, and you could see the frustration simmering just below the surface. You had been trying to keep the peace, but it was clear that you needed to address the issue before it spiralled further out of control.

“Baby, we need to talk,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady despite the tension in your chest.

Rhea looked up from where she had been shedding her gear. “Baby, can it wait? I’m really tired.”

“No, it can’t,” you replied, frustration edging into your voice. “This has been building up for a while. I feel like you’re never around anymore. You’re always working, and when you are here, you’re too exhausted to be present. It’s like I’m invisible.”

Rhea’s expression hardened, a mixture of guilt and defensiveness crossing her features. “I’m doing this for us, you know. I’m trying to build a future, make sure we have everything we need.”

“I get that, Rhea,” you said, your voice softening but still firm. “But right now, it feels like your work is coming before everything else. Including me. I’m not asking for everything, just some time. I feel neglected, and it’s really starting to hurt.”

Rhea’s shoulders slumped, her eyes clouded with frustration and exhaustion. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realise it had gotten this bad.”

“Yeah, well, it has,” you said, your emotions catching up with you. “I think we need to take a break.”

The words hung heavy in the air, and Rhea’s eyes widened in shock. “A break? Are you serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady even as your heart ached. “I need some space to figure out what’s going on with us. It’s not just about you being busy—it’s about priorities. I feel like I’m always on the back burner.”

Rhea’s face fell, and she took a step towards you, her eyes pleading. “Please, don’t say that. I know I’ve been distant, but I didn’t mean to push you away. I’m just so caught up in everything, and I didn’t realise how it was affecting you.”

“I know you didn’t mean to,” you said softly, your resolve wavering slightly. “But it’s been really hard for me. I need to know that our relationship matters as much as your career does. Otherwise, I don’t know how we can keep going like this.”

Rhea looked down, her shoulders trembling as she tried to hold back her tears. “I don’t want to lose you. You’re the most important thing in my life. I just didn’t know how to balance everything.”

“Maybe we need to figure that out,” you said, your voice trembling with the weight of your words. “Maybe some time apart will help us both see things more clearly.”

Rhea reached out, taking your hand in hers, her touch almost desperate. “Please, don’t make this decision right now. Give me a chance to show you that I can make this work. I’ll find a way to balance things better. I promise.”

You looked at her, seeing the raw emotion in her eyes. “I want to believe that. I really do. But I need to see it, too. We can take some time apart, and if we can work through this, then maybe we can find our way back to each other.”

Rhea’s grip tightened on your hand, her voice breaking as she spoke. “I’m begging you. I need you to trust me. I’ll do whatever it takes to fix this. I don’t want us to end like this.”

The pain in her voice mirrored the ache in your chest. “It’s not about ending things,” you said softly, struggling to hold back your own tears. “It’s about figuring out how we can both be happy. We can’t keep going like this. I need to see that you’re willing to make changes, just as much as I need to find out what’s best for me.”

Rhea nodded, her face flushed with a mix of sadness and determination. “Okay. I understand. Just know that I’m going to work on this. I don’t want to lose you.”

With a heavy heart, you nodded and gave her a final, lingering look before turning to leave. As you walked away, you felt a pang of sadness, but also a glimmer of hope. Sometimes, space was needed to rediscover what truly mattered, and you hoped that this break would give you both the clarity you needed.

Rhea watched you go, her mind racing with thoughts of how to make things right. She knew she had to reevaluate her priorities and make a real effort to balance her career and her relationship. The house felt emptier as the door closed behind you, the silence a stark reminder of the distance that had grown between you. As the quiet settled around her, Rhea vowed to herself that she would do whatever it took to prove that her love for you was worth fighting for, even if it meant confronting the parts of herself she had been avoiding.

...........................................................

[chaotic-starlight24]

Dallas Winston Backstory Headcanons Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, General Headcanons

Here is my last part of his backstory headcanons :)

Warnings: None I think

Making it to Tulsa

Eventually he made it to Tulsa, OK at the age of 13 ¾. He had no plan to stay there very long. He had made it to the south so now he just planned to travel around. That was until he went to swipe something from a corner store. Suddenly the manager was right behind him.

“Hey buddy, ya can’t be doin that here.”

Dally just gave him a look, “I was, uh, going to pay Mr…Curtis?”

Did Darrel Curtis Sr. believe him? Nope. Not at all. But he could tell this kid was not from here. With that new yorker accent he was out of place. He saw that this kid hadn’t just moved here. He was alone and afraid no matter how tough he pretended to be. So he let him go and told his wife to look out for him in case she saw him.

Mrs. Curtis did eventually see him when he wandered into the diner and offered him a free meal. He hadn’t eaten in a couple days so he accepted, but was still very skeptical. She tried to ask him what he was doing in Tulsa, where he was from, yada yada. But he was of course very defensive. 

Eventually one of her kids named Sodapop came in with some of his friends. These guys named Two-Bit and Steve. Dally tried to steer himself away from them. But they welcomed him over and soon enough Dally found himself cracking a grin at their stupid jokes. He was still very untrusting, he expected that he would have to disappear soon anyways. But he found himself meeting more people.

Soon enough he met the rest of their “gang”. It was very different from any gang he had ever been in. Not that he included himself in their group. He found himself becoming very drawn to one of the younger boys. Johnny Cade. He saw himself in him, a young and more sensitive version. Dally found himself worried about him. If he was as sensitive as Johnny was he wouldn’t have survived. Johnny also took a shine to him and Dally found himself being followed around. He learned more about him and found out just how tough he really was.

He met Buck through rodeos and became sorta friends with him. He found out Buck had an extra room and bullied him into giving it to him. A 14 year old bullying a 21 year old is quite the sight.

He also met Tim Shephard, in a fight. They beat each other to a pulp after one pickpocketed the other. Afterwards they were like “Hey! I like your style!” They've been frenemies ever since.

He very quickly learned the greaser way from the gang and grew out his hair. But he never cared to grease it. He thought it made it off-color.

He was very close to the Mrs. Curtis and would help her out no matter what the task was. Her and her husband were what made Dally believe that maybe he could stay there. Though he would occasionally have mood swings and not want to talk to her or look at her because he saw his bio mom in her. He truly wished that his bio mom had stood up for herself and not fallen to addiction. 

He was close to Mr. Curtis as well. Not as close but he still trusted him. Mr. Curtis was also a big fan of movies and everything, especially James Dean. So sometimes they would sit on the porch and ramble a bit about him and his movies.

He sort of scared Pony and also just had some dislike for him. He would be rude to him or just flat out ignore him. Usually the gang would get onto him for it but the main reason was that he would be reminded of his own younger siblings. The ones he left behind and now didn’t even know if they were alive. One of his sisters was the exact same age as Pony as well. So Pony grew up believing Dally really was just this delinquent who hated little kids and showed little care. Which was somewhat true…

He was influenced by Shephard’s gang and other more “hood-like” greasers and though the gang didn’t like it, definitely returned to his illegal pastimes. 

[misc-obeyme]

You know what time it is.

Lesson 33 spoilers, including the hard lesson, here we go!

I am pleased. And I am not pleased.

I had so many great moments with all my faves. Solomon being there for me, Levi being a lil cutie, THIRTEEN DATE, Barbatos giving me lil Ds. What glorious moments. I shall share some screenshots momentarily.

BUT FIRST.

Belphie. What the fuck.

Technically, this is Mammon’s fault. He was the one who was like it’s not wrong to feel upset about it and like yeah he’s right, but Belphie is clearly taking that statement to an EXTREME.

We are dealing with YANDERE BELPHIE, my friends.

If I remember correctly, he was always supposed to be yandere. So now we’re really leaning into that, huh? Like straight up, I am going to keep you here forever because you’ll be happier with me than if you leave. Our boy’s gone a little off the deep end lol. I kinda love it.

Though I was really surprised by his final line of “I don’t want you to see what’s inside my head.” He seemed really concerned about it. Considering all we’ve seen already, it can’t be that bad, right? Then again, I wouldn’t want anyone I know to get inside my head, either. Please stay out, you don’t need to see the horrors, thanks.

Also, we still haven’t made a pact with Levi. Just like we didn’t actually make a pact with Beel. Is it because now they’re not sure they want to have pacts with us because of the whole needing magic to get back to the human world thing? I swear I have a memory of Solomon telling us that we could make pacts with all of the brothers at the same time. But we already have pacts with three of them? So why would we only make pacts with three or four of them at the same time? I’m so confused. Someone please share your thoughts with me on this because I don’t get it???

I really feel like they directly addressed some of the concerns we’ve all been having in this lesson, too. I mean Solomon straight up talks about wondering what the brothers we left behind are doing. Or if time is still going there or if we’ll end up exactly where we left etc etc. HOWEVER all that soup talk makes me think they are just going to mesh it all together. ‘Cause Solomon also said this:

What does that mean? How can the future brothers influence what’s happening in the past? Unless their memories are changing in real time… ugh why did they have to go with time travel shenanigans?? Don’t they know this junk hurts my brain??

Anyway, now it’s time for some of my favorite moments, enough about time travel and feelings and pacts!

Because my favorite sorcerer also said this. And I know there are some questions about his motives and blah blah but I don’t care. I love him. He’ll be all serious, then say something sweet and reassuring, then do something crazy or try to cook again… he’s got so many sides to him lol.

STOP MAKING ME LIKE YOU MEPHISTOPHELES. (Please you were like the last character I was neutral about I can’t afford to get obsessed with anyone else.)

Honestly, I laughed so hard when he said this. Mammon just called him out directly and he LAUGHED. He laughed and was like yeah duh of course, idiots. And look how pleased he is about it, too.

May I bring your attention to my baby Levi? Look at this silly guy. I was so happy I got to hug him. And the group hug was adorable, too. Satan protesting the whole time lol. Lucifer coming in and being like… I regret asking.

I swear sometimes I wanna kiss this guy JUST to watch him blush. It’s so freakin’ cute.

Smitten. I am smitten.

The way she’s like I don’t get why you like these weirdos, but I know they matter to you. Don’t worry, it’s going to work out. How she gets all defensive of MC. Her cute little smile. The way she suggests coming to visit MC in the human world & saying that Solomon can come too?! LIKE. I love her so much.

HE KNOWS.

Listen I was thrilled about this whole part - Barbatos being mysterious and giving me a weird piece of paper and a Little D? Yes forever. But also I think we’ve all suspected him of knowing the truth and this part right here just solidifies that for me. He definitely knows. He knows everything about what’s going on. I don’t think that means he’s Nightbringer or even that he’s working with Nightbringer. He could just know because he’s got access to all of time and what not. But either way, he knows.

Honestly I love Barbatos so much. Just the small parts we had with him were enough to get me in my feels. I also really enjoyed the hard lesson because even if Luke doesn’t know what’s going on, I think Simeon does. And their discussion was interesting.

So I’m gonna leave you with one last Barb moment.

I’m so impatient is it the end of the season yet?? I wanna know how it ends right NOW.

[hannahssimblr]

I spend three hours wandering around the estate looking for Goose. I've checked every front garden, every hedge and flower bed and under every car, looked inside bins and up trees by the time I'm forced to contend with the fact that I haven't confronted the railroad tracks yet. I don't. I never pluck up the courage.

I can’t fathom it, being the one to find him there, sweet Goose with his little kitten paws and soft pewter fur. This thought that I hadn’t even considered until Michelle spat it at me is tormenting me now as I forlornly wander the evening streets, calling out the name that I’m not even sure he knows to answer to yet. 

I stumble upon Jen in a little park we used to drink in when we were fourteen. She’s been out looking too, evidently, but has had enough and is sitting on the ground gazing out over the last russet streaks of sunset over Dublin Bay. 

“Have you given up?” I ask her. Her eyes are clouded with sadness 

“I have a feeling he’s gone, Jude,” she says. I feel a lump forming in my throat. “He mightn’t be. He might come back, you know, cats are known to show up after being away for days, weeks, months even,” this is the sort of bargaining a person who refuses to accept the obvious truth gets too involved with, and the kind I’ve been doing with myself the whole afternoon, thinking that maybe if I imagine Goose’s return with enough conviction I will magic him home again, but Jen, for once does not match my idealism.

“He probably doesn’t know where his home is yet, he’s too new.”

“Yeah,” I shift some loose gravel with the toe of my shoe. “Jen, I feel so awful.”

“I know,” she says, and holds her arms out to me to pull me to the ground and wrap them around me, “It isn’t your fault, it could have happened to any of us.”

“I ruined the entire day with my stupidity.”

“Shh, stop,” gently fingers stroke my hair at the nape of my neck, “you just made a mistake, it’s human.”

“Did I ruin your date?”

She pauses, “It’s okay, I don’t think she realised it was a date, and it's probably for the best.” 

The wind rustles through the trees around the park, and I feel chilled with the knowledge that change is coming. The school year is ending soon and now the future lies unavoidably ahead of me, a path completely untrodden. 

“You’ll find someone else to take to the debs,” I tell Jen, peering at the side of her face as her short crop of chestnut hair is backlit by the sunset. “You should have been the first person to get a date anyway.”

She gives me a half smile, unconvinced, “there are like, four lesbians in our year including me.”

“Out lesbians,” I point out, “You never know.”

“When I go to college it will be better,” she says firmly, “school is just destined to be shit, romantically, I mean.”

“In all ways, I think.”

She just laughs. 

“This stuff is bullshit anyway.”

“What is? Love?”

I rub my arms where goosebumps are rising with the cold. I should have worn a jumper. “Yeah, you’re not missing out on much.”

A silence follows, one that feels deliberate, but I venture into it anyway, “Michelle and I had a bad fight earlier.”

“I heard.”

“Us shouting?”

“Mm.”

“Sorry.” I wipe my nose which is running from the cold with the back of my arm. “It was terrible, we both said awful things.”

She just circles her hand on my knee in a vague gesture of comfort.  

“Sometimes it feels like she’s trying to hurt me, you know what I mean? It’s like she has all of this bad stuff stored up that she wants to, like, unleash. It’s so vicious. It seems like she really wants to dig her nails in and leave a mark on me, and then I get so defensive, like, because talking it out doesn’t work, I have to shout, and I have to be horrible too so that she’ll even react to me.”

“We all say things we regret when we’re upset.”

“Yeah, but it’s so destructive. I come away from it all feeling like shit. Like, this isn't who I am, I’m not a person who fights. At least I don’t want to be. I don’t want to be up there saying these things to her, but I can’t stand there and let her say them to me either.”

“Yeah.”

“And I worry a lot about what things are going to look like after this year is over, like, with college and stuff,” even mentioning it makes my stomach feel tight, “like, um, how she wants us to live together and all.”

“And you’re nervous about that?”

I sigh, “Well, I don’t know, it makes sense to do it, right? She thought we could get a little place near NCAD, and we’ve been looking at houses online, and… I don’t know. The idea of being around her all of the time, like, twenty-four-seven, sharing a bed, eating every meal together, walking to college, it makes me feel claustrophobic, and then I worry that if I feel that way now, how am I going to feel when I’m actually doing it? Surely it’s not supposed to feel so terrible, right?” I prompt her when she doesn’t respond, “Jen? What do you think?”

She pauses for a long moment, toying with the aglets on the end of her boot laces. “I think that you’re asking me for an opinion I’m not prepared to give you.”

“...right.”

“We agreed, I agreed with you both that I’d never talk to one about the other. It’s not fair on me and I don’t want to feel stuck in the middle of it.”

“But-”

“You’re both nice people and I love you both so much, but when you are together you are absolutely horrible. That’s all I want to say.”

I don't know how to respond to that, so I don't, I just sit in bad feelings and wish for the millionth time that my brain was normal enough to make good choices on its own and not beg them from other people.

I sniff again, though this time I’m not sure if it’s just because of the cold. “So, um, the acceptance deadline for those other colleges is coming up.” 

“The foreign ones?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you still going to turn them down?”

“I promised Michelle that I would.” 

Jen’s shoulders slump, all of her does, like someone has let the air out of her, but she just says, “Alright.”

I feel the teeth of my genuine desperation for her opinion, her approval gnawing at me. I just want the sage words of advice she’s withholding from me, “Is it a mistake? Like, if I reject their offers? Would that be the stupidest thing I ever did?”

“I don’t know.”

“I worked hard, you know? I really put everything I had into those applications, I gave them the best that I had and they loved it, they said really nice things about me in the letters, and sometimes, like, I think I’ll die, or something, if I don’t leave Dublin. But then there’s Michelle,” I fist the front of my hair in my hand, “and the things at home, and I don’t know what the right thing is, whether it’s hurting myself or hurting everyone else…”

“Jude,” Jen suddenly grabs hold of my face and forces me to look into her eyes, “you have to do what feels right, okay? I’m not going to tell you what to do. Like, just… you need to fucking search within or whatever.”

“Uh huh. What does that entail?” 

“I dunno!” She lets me go and stands up, brushing dirt from the back of her jeans, “C’mon, it’s cold, we should go home.”

“Uh, I was kind of hoping you’d be able to solve me, actually.”

“No, this time you can solve yourself. C’mon, up!” She presents her hand to me and I let her haul me onto my feet. 

“Ugh, Jen,” I say, feeling myself sinking back into a melancholy hole again, but she links my arms and brusquely walks me toward the playground gates with all the pep of a middle aged Sunday morning power walker. “You know what? I think we could both do with something nice to make us feel better.”

“What do you mean ‘something nice’?

“Like, I dunno, an ice cream or something.”

“What time is it? It must be after nine.”

“Yeah, so? I was thinking of that place with all the weird flavours, do you remember that?”

“Yeah, but it’s all the way in town. Effort.”

“You can drive, can’t you?”

“You want me to drive? Jen I hate driving.”

“I think you’ll do it for me.”

“Why’d you think that?”

She eyes me sideways, “After what you put me through today, hm?”

“That's manipulation.”

“No, it's payback.”

“Fine. I’ll go get the car.”

“Really?”

“Yes! Come on, before I change my mind.”

Beginning // Prev // Next

[hxney-lemcn]

Oopsie — Peter Maximoff x gn! reader

summary: Peter found your fanfic (idk how else to summarize this 💀)

tw: descriptions of panic (possibly panic attack?)

a/n: idk how I feel about this one.

wc: 1.1k

Master List

“Give that back, Peter!” I shouted, standing on my tippy toes trying to reach the notebook he held over his head.

“Why do ya want it back so badly, huh?” Peter asked with a smirk. “What are you writing about?”

I don’t think my heart has ever beat as fast as it is now. I could feel my blood rush as panic coursed through me. No, I didn’t use it as a diary or anything…or maybe I was in a convoluted way? When I felt down or needed to vent, I would write scenarios with my favorite characters. The thought of anyone, especially Peter finding out made me want to change my identity and leave the country. He would never let me live it down and some of those stories were extremely personal to me. 

Panic continued to clench at my heart as Peter opened the notebook, still holding it above his head. Pure desperation took hold of me as I jumped, using his shoulders to propel me higher. 

“Whoa there,” Peter laughed, zipping away to the other side of the room. “You really don’t want me reading this. It can’t be that bad.”

“Peter, please,” I begged, trying to stop my voice cracking from the tears that threatened to fall. His smile fell and he looked at me with furrowed brows. Either he read some of it using his super powers to give him more time or he felt guilty due to how desperate I seemed, but I didn’t want to find out. So as a last ditch attempt, I shot a beam of darkness at the notebook, disappearing into the shadows only to reappear in my hands. Before Peter could utter a word I disappeared into the shadows, only to reappear in Jean's room. 

Jean gasped in surprise. I typically didn’t use my powers that often. I wasn’t a part of the X-Men, but I was friends with Jean ever since I first attended the school, which meant I was basically a part of their group. Having the powers of umbrakinesis, at the beginning wasn’t so special. I could manipulate shadows. Didn’t seem like much. Until Professor Xaviar taught me about my true potential. I could travel through shadows, and even manifest the dark particles into a physical form. It was a good defense, creating weapons made out of dark particles, but I wasn’t the fighting type. So I never really used my powers. There was no need to.

So when I not only traveled to Jean through shadows, but also had the most panic stricken face, she led me to her bed. Her work was left forgotten on her desk. 

“Hey, hey it's okay,” She cooed. “You’re safe here.” Jean rubbed my back as she sat next to me. 

I took deep breaths, trying to calm down. I felt so silly getting worked up over such things, but at the same time it was something deeply personal…and embarrassing. 

“You wanna talk about it?” Jean asked. I bit my lip, contemplating if I could stomach saying it out loud or letting her just read my thoughts.

“Could you just…look?” I asked, hoping it wasn’t rude too. 

She nodded, a gentle look in her eyes. I trusted her with the knowledge of the contents of my notebook. Especially when she’ll see how important it is to me. A scowl took over her face after a minute.

“That idiot,” She huffed.

Even after what just happened, I couldn’t help but vouch for Peter, “He didn’t know…”

“You’re letting your crush on him talk,” She rolled her eyes. 

I felt myself warm at such a blatant accusation of my feelings. She wasn’t completely wrong. I was smitten over the silver haired mutant. I found his dorkiness charming, and he just had the cutest smile. He made it so easy to be friends with him, including me in everything, and not to mention his casual affection. An arm around my shoulders here, ruffling my hair there. It was something I wasn’t used to. Yeah Jean would include me in stuff as well, but her affection was more reserved. 

And yes, Peter can be annoying. Prime example would be his incessant talking. He could talk about anything and everything, yet not say a thing of substance. Which I personally didn’t mind, but Jean and Scott found it grating from time to time. 

“I’m just scared he’s gonna think I’m weird now,” I finally confessed. “I mean…it is weird, but…”

“It's not weird,” Jean consoled. “We all have our hobbies, and yours helps you emotionally.”

I fiddled with the notebook pages, “I guess.”

Suddenly, an urgent knocking sounded through the room, followed by Peter’s voice, “Jean! I think I seriously messed up!”

Once more, a frown found its way onto Jean's lips before she sent me a concerned look. She shuffled me into her bathroom, ‘I think you should hear what he’s gonna say.’ I nodded anxiously, staring at the white tiles as she closed the bathroom door. I sat on the toilet seat as I heard Jean open her door.

“What’d you do this time, Maximoff?” She asked.

I could practically hear the nerves in Peter’s voice as he replied, “I-I swear I didn’t know it was such a big deal. I thought we were messin’ around like usual, but then they started to really freak out. I thought it was just some work stuff…but I read some of it, and I won’t say what it was, but I realized I definitely shouldn’t have read it and now I can’t find ‘em.”

“Slow down Peter,” Jean sighed. 

“I can’t!” Peter’s voice broke. “The look they gave me before they left…I can’t get it outta my head. I gotta apologize, but I’m no good at those.” He let out a frustrated groan before finishing, “I always ruin stuff.”

It was silent for a few seconds before Jean finally spoke, “I’ll give you guys some time to talk it out.”

“Wha?” 

The bathroom door opened on its own and I slowly peaked my head out. Peter stared at me with those big puppy dog eyes that melted my heart and I watched as Jean left her own room. I felt a bit bad that our drama made her leave her own room, but was side tracked as Peter started apologizing rapidly.

“I’m so sorry (y/n),” He said. “I-I didn’t know. I shouldn’t have done that. I’m such an idiot.” He brushed his hand through his hair tensely. 

I let out a quiet sigh, “It's okay.”

“It’s not!” Peter refuted. “That was your personal info!”

I bit my lip, “I mean yeah…but I forgive you. As long as you never speak to another soul of what you read.”

“Read what?” He asked with fake cluelessness. “I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”

A bright grin fell onto my face, happy that he didn’t seem to be judging me.

“But…y’know, just for the record, if you wanna cuddle…” He opened his arms like he was gonna go in for a hug. “I’m always open.”

I rolled my eyes, but failed to hide my amused grin, “Whatever Quickie.”

[thevioletcaptain]

🩲😳🫦

Dean’s not staring. He’s definitely not staring.

He’s so consciously and deliberately not staring that he sinks down a little lower in the driver’s seat of the Impala, just in case Cas happens to glance over and see him from where he’s standing like some kind of calendar model on the opposite side of the Smith Center Public Swimming Pool.

Not because he thinks he’s doing anything wrong, though. Cas is hot, and Dean knows that Cas is hot. He's long past having a crisis about the fact that he wants the guy. But he's off limits. He can't quite remember why he'd decided that he was off limits, but he's sure he had a good reason for it.

So he's not staring. And he's not hiding, either.

It's just that Dean doesn’t want Cas to see his face through the windshield, all distorted by the glare of the summer sun, and mistakenly think that he is staring.

Because he’s not.

But. Well. It’s kind of hard not to look, is the thing.

And looking isn’t staring. It’s just — seeing. With his eyes. Which he kind of can’t help but do. And is that a crime? Is it a crime to see?

Anyway, Cas is the one who decided to buy himself a neon green Speedo for the adult swimming lessons he’s insisted on taking now that he’s human again, and it’s hardly Dean’s fault if his eye is naturally drawn to bright colors.

That’s just… evolution. He thinks he read that somewhere, once. Survival instincts, ingrained over countless generations and hardwired into his monkey brain, so that he won’t accidentally put poisonous tree frogs in his mouth or whatever.

Not that he's letting his monkey brain take control right now. Not that he’s thinking of putting his mouth anywhere near Cas’ —

“You can’t park here.”

He jumps, his forearm pressing hard into the horn, and half a dozen people — Cas included — all turn to stare at him from the poolside.

Now they're staring. Not just looking. Definitely staring. Dean knows the difference.

Cas lifts his hand and waves.

It’s probably Dean’s imagination, given the distance, but he’s pretty sure he can see a bead of water — maybe sweat — trickling down his side. It starts near his armpit. Trails down over his ribs.

As Dean watches — looks, really, just happens to see — Cas pushes his fingers through his hair, and shakes his head, and an arc of droplets sparkles through the air around him before he drops his hand back down and wipes it off on his thigh. And now his thigh is wet again.

Who gave him the right to fucking glisten like that? Who the hell does he think he is?

“Sir?”

Dragging his eyes away from Cas, Dean glances up at the woman ducking down to peer in at him through his open window. She’s wearing a navy blue polo with the pool’s logo, and she’s missed a spot with her sunscreen, so there’s an oddly shaped patch of red in the middle of her forehead. The pinched-mouth expression on her face suggests that perhaps she's spoken to him more times than he’d noticed. He shakes his head a little.

“Huh, sorry, what?”

“You can’t park here,” she says, tone harsher than before, and points up at the staff only sign he’d missed when he arrived.

In his defense, the sign is kind of dull, and decidedly not brightly colored, and by the time he’d been pulling into the space, he’d already been kind of distracted by Cas and his glow-in-the-dark-and-the-daytime-too crotch.

Some part of him — the monkey brain, probably — desperately wants his eyes to flick back over toward the pool to see if Cas has decided to do any more post-swim stretching. He valiantly fights it. The effort uses enough brain power that he barely remembers that he's probably supposed to respond to the woman talking to him.

“Oh,” he says, finally.

She waits. Raises her brow. He figures he should say more.

“I’m not actually— I’m not staying. I’m just here to pick someone up. I mean, heh, that sounded wrong. I’m not trying to pick someone up, like, trying to score. I’m just here to pick up a guy. My friend. In my car. To drive him home.”

The woman’s eyes narrow a little, and she half opens her mouth like she’s not quite sure how to respond to his rambling but fully intends to, but before she can get a word out Cas is there, pulling open the passenger door. The hinges creak.

The scent of chlorine and sunscreen and Cas floods Dean's senses.

He glances over, no longer able to force himself not to, and has to bite down on his own lip to keep from letting out a deeply embarrassing noise when he finds him spreading his towel out on the seat so he can sit down, still wearing his Speedo. He drops the string bag with his change of clothes into the footwell and grins at Dean as he climbs inside.

"Don't worry, I won't get your car wet," he says.

Dean's brain is making a strange buzzing sound.

"Uhuh," he says.

“Sir,” the woman cuts in again.

Dean doesn’t even look at her, this time. Just waves a hand in the air and starts the engine as Cas buckles in. Pulls the seatbelt taut across his lap.

"You need to move."

"Yeah, we're going," Dean says.

“See you next week, Doreen,” Cas tells her cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Dean says, but his eyes don’t leave Cas. Maybe he is staring, just a little. “Maybe I’ll come, too.” [written for this prompt game] [find me on ao3 as imogenbynight 💚]

[daddynattt]

omg im so happy i found your blog, you’ve quickly become one of my new favourite writers !! 😭😭

the pussyjob and dirty talk in your latest nat fic was literally so perfect I s(creamed)🫣

Can you please write a fic with Nat that includes tribbing/scissoring? (only if you’re comfortable with it ofc) I think i’ve only seen like two tribbing fics with Nat in the entirety of tumblr so i’d love to see how you do with it! <33

you and me both! lol. thank you so much<3 i hope you enjoy this

You’re Mine

Summary: When Natasha sees you and Wanda dancing at one of Tony’s famous parties, she does what she can to steal you away and show you who you really belong to.

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader , Brief Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings: Possesive Nat, Jealous Nat, Smut, Scissoring, Fluff, Tony being Tony.

Word Count: 2.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked in the mirror for the final time as you put on your jewelry and walked out of your room at the compound. Tony is having another one of his parties and said everyone has to attend that they can’t get out of it. You hated his parties as all anyone did was get black out drunk and sleazy men would always try to hit on you. If you were being honest, you only wanted one person to hit on you and that was a certain red head. Your relationship with Natasha was a weird one. At times she would appear stone cold, only interacting when you went on missions together or had team gatherings. Other times the two of you would flirt and play this game of cat and mouse. Lately, she has been around you more and has made flirtatious jokes along with lingering touches here and there. Your crush on the assassin was one that you can’t get rid of no matter how many times you told yourself she didn’t want you in a romantic way.

You sigh as you enter through the doors and look around you. Tony was at the bar taking shots with Bucky and Sam, already looking like he couldn’t stand on his own two feet for much longer. Steve was chatting with Wanda and Clint in the corner by the bar and Natasha was talking to some guy you’ve not once seen in your entire time of being an Avenger and living in the compound. You roll your eyes as you make your way towards the bar, already desperately needing a drink to get some alcohol in your system. You’re just going to stay at the party for one hour tops and make your way back to your room so you can lay in bed and watch the show that you’re currently watching. 

“Y/n! so nice of you to finally join us” you hear Tony slur from beside you, a cup in his hand of God knows what. You stare at him as he stumbles and almost falls. “How are you already this drunk at your own party?” you ask him bewilderingly. He taps you on the back quite harshly, the sudden force catching you off guard as you almost spill your drink on yourself as you stumble forward in your seat. “Watch it Stark, I am not afraid to kick your ass” you glare at him as you put your drink back on the bar countertop. He raises his hands in defense and smirks at you. “Now now no need to get so aggressive, leave that for a certain red head” You roll your eyes and glare at him again but the light tint of pink on your cheeks gives you away. 

“How about you shut your mouth because I have no clue what you’re talking about” you take a sip of your drink and turn away from him as you look around you once more. You smile as you see Wanda approaching you, inviting her with a wave of your hand to sit beside you. She smiles at you as she takes the seat next to you. “Is Tony bothering you?” she laughs at your annoyed expression when he quickly denies it. You ignore him as you smile at her. “When isn’t he? he’s so annoying” you say the last part loud enough so he could hear you. Wanda giggles and smiles brightly at you, and you can’t deny that she looks absolutely gorgeous when she does so.

“That’s Tony for you, i’m surprised you even showed up to the party” You smile at her and take another sip of your drink. “Well, he basically forced us and I didn’t want to face his wrath if I didn’t show up tonight, you know how he is. Besides, my company at the moment is very lovely” you slide your hand up her arm flirtatiously and you relish in the way she smiles shyly at you, a light blush accompanying her cheeks. You smile at her and get up, putting your hand out for her to grab. 

“Would you like to dance with me?” she smiles and grabs your hand, walking the two of you towards the dance floor. “I would love to, cmon” The two of you dance together, her arms around your neck as yours go around her waist, her body so close to you that you feel her breath on your face. You have a feeling that someone is watching you so you look to the side and notice Natasha looking

in your direction, a hard glare fixated towards the back of Wanda’s head. You smirk as you pull Wanda closer, if that is even possible, as you whisper something in her ear. You see Natasha walking towards you guys from the corner of your eye, her eyes not once leaving yours. 

“Hi ladies, so Y/n, I thought you said you were going to come find me so we could dance” you smile at her as you look into her eyes. “Hmm did I? I don’t recall, I was actually enjoying my dance with Wanda” her gaze is hard as she looks at you, her jaw clenched as she grabs onto your arm. “Well I guess it’s my turn now, sorry Wanda but i’m going to steal Y/n for a moment” before Wanda has a chance to speak, you’re being dragged away and out of the party. “What the hell Nat? what are you doing?” the wind gets knocked out of you as you’re slammed into the wall somewhere away from the party.

“Shut up. Did you enjoy your dance with the little witch? Tell me, or did you wish it was me instead?” she has that stupid smirk on her face that always makes you feel some type of way, her face is so close to yours you could almost taste the lipgloss on her lips. 

Before you can say anything, her lips are on yours in a bruising kiss that makes your stomach swoop, the butterflies in your stomach going haywire as your brain finally catches up and you kiss her back with the same intensity. When you feel the need to catch air in your lungs so you don’t pass out, she pulls back first and cups your jaw in her hand as she stares into your eyes. “You’re mine Y/n, and i’m going to show you who you belong to” you two make your way to your shared room and stumble through the door, her lips on yours the second you close it shut. Your head feels fuzzy as all you feel and taste is her. You have been waiting for this moment for so long and you are going to enjoy every second of it. 

You feel her hot breath on your neck as she kisses you there, leaving love bites wherever her mouth reaches, her hands on your butt as she squeezes you there. You run your hands through her hair and moan in her ear. “Nat please, I need you” you pant out as you feel her tongue licking your earlobe, biting it right after. You feel her sucking on your neck again, no doubt leaving many marks that will for sure be hard to cover up. You think she is trying to claim her mark, and the thought of it leaves you even more wet then you already are. She rids you from your dress leaving you in only your panties, pushing you towards the bed and laying you on your back. 

She kisses you hard and shoves her tongue in your mouth, the feeling of her tongue against yours making the ache in your core start to feel uncomfortable . You need her now as the overwhelming feeling of her has become too much for you to handle. She kisses down your chest, taking your nipple in her mouth as she sucks on it. You can feel your slick running down your thigh as you are unbelievably wet for her. “Fuck nat, just like that, feels so good” she bites your nipple and kisses down your body, she lays down as she gets in between your legs. She slides off your panties and spreads your legs wide as she admires her view, breathing in your scent as her mouth waters.

“God you are so wet for me baby, you’re absolutely dripping. I can’t wait to taste your sweet pussy” she licks your juices from your inner thighs, your breathing picking up at the overwhelming feeling of her mouth on you. You run your hand through her hair and tug her closer to where you need her most.

“Please Natty, stop teasing me, need your mouth so bad” you mewl out breathlessly as you look down at her. She gives you a long lick from the bottom to the top of your clit, gathering your taste on her tongue. She starts to lick your folds, looking up at you as she sucks your clit into her mouth. “You taste so fucking good baby, the best pussy i’ve ever had” you moan loudly as her tongue hits you in all the right places, feeling her stick her finger inside you as she sucks on your clit again. “Shit you’re so tight, you feel so warm around me” she fucks you with one finger then slowly adds another one, moving them in and out of you expertly. You are dripping wet that once you adjust, you swallow her fingers as she fucks you deep. “F-fuck don’t stop, that feels so fucking good” she moans against your clit as your nails scratch at her scalp as she fucks you faster, the vibration making your eyes roll to the back of your head. Her mouth and fingers feel so good that you can’t think of anything else. You’re close and she knows it as you clench around her fingers.

She moves up your body and sucks on your earlobe as she fucks you deep and hard, as she whispers in your ear, her voice hot and raspy. “You gonna cum for me baby? Cum all over my fingers, that’s it baby, such a good girl for me” after a few more thrusts you cum hard on her fingers as a strong orgasm washes over you, your breathing is heavy as she rides out your high. You lay there panting as you try to catch your breath. 

She slides her fingers out and you whimper from the loss of feeling, she brings her fingers to your mouth and looks into your eyes. “Open” you instantly obey and suck on her fingers, moaning at your taste. She bites her lip and gets up from the bed and takes off her clothes, joining you in finally getting naked. You bite your lip as you admire her, you’ve never seen someone more beautiful then her. You don’t know if your mind is just hazy from your orgasm but you think you see a hint of a blush on her cheeks and the thought makes your heart swell in your chest. “God Nat, you’re so beautiful” she smiles at you and joins you back on the bed as she kisses you. 

You feel her slick against your thigh and the fact that she is so wet from only pleasing you makes you feel immense pride. She pulls back from the kiss as she bites your bottom lip. “Fuck I wanna feel you, i’m gonna grind on you baby. Wanna feel your pussy against mine” she spreads your legs as she hovers over you, grinding herself on you, the feeling of her wet folds against yours igniting a feeling inside you that you’ve never felt before. “Fuck your pussy feels so good, it’s like it was made for me” she grinds on you faster, her clit hitting yours perfectly as she glides back and forth. You’ve never scissored with anyone before, the feeling of her pussy against yours makes you feel so unbelievably dirty, you’ve never felt something as good as this.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as she grinds faster, your legs slightly shaking as her pussy feels so good against yours. “God i’m gonna fucking cum, gonna cum on your pussy. Fuck you feel amazing, oh fuck i’m coming!” she sloppily grinds on you as both your orgasms wash over you, your body twitching as she rides out both of your highs, you are so sensitive that you can’t handle anymore. She breathes heavily as she looks down at you, your hair sticking to your forehead and your chest heaving, you’ve never looked more beautiful. She looks at you through hooded eyes and starts grinding on you again. You try to push her off as you’re unbelievably sensitive. “I can’t anymore Nat, ‘m too sensitive” she keeps grinding as she’s not far off from another orgasm. “Just one more princess, your pussy feels so fucking good against mine, fuck” both your clits were so swollen that the feeling of them hitting each other once more had you both so close to your release. “Yes yes yes, don’t stop Nat, i’m gonna cum” you were both so wet that squishing sounds could be heard in the air of the room as both your cunts rubbed together. “Oh fuck, Nat!” you scream her name as an even more powerful orgasm washes over you then the last one, your body shaking and twitching as she slumps against you, the both of you trying to catch your breath. 

“That was amazing” she kisses you sloppily as she continues to lay on top of you, relishing in the warmth your body provides. You lazily run your hand up and down her back as you smile. “So not that i’m complaining, because i’m definitely not, but what brought this on?” her raspy laugh makes you shiver and she looks up at you from your chest. “I got jealous seeing you and Wanda all over each other. I know i’m not an easy person to understand but I have feelings for you and want to be with you. I didn’t want to lose my chance before it was too late” you can see the insecurity in her eyes as she gazes up at you, you know she isn’t always in touch with her feelings so for her to be vulnerable with you in this moment, means more to you then she will ever know. You smile softly at her and stroke her cheek. “I’m yours Natty, I always have been. I want to be with you and only you”

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Mary L. Trump at The Good in Us:

Like most Americans, I too want the national temperature to be lowered. I want to see the violent rhetoric to stop. And I want to see our nation unified. But the other side seems to be saying that, in order for that to happen, we’re not allowed to talk about Donal'd’s record of lawlessness, cruelty, and incompetence and we must make concessions to the would-be dictator. On Monday, while Republicans tried to shame their critics into silence by making false and increasingly incendiary claims that it was Democrats who are responsible for creating the context in which Saturday’s shooting took place, we were reminded just how dangerous things will get if Donald wins this election. Today, Aileen Cannon, Donald’s personal pocket judge, took the shocking (but not surprising) and illogical step of dismissing the charges against my uncle. Her behavior since acquiring this case has been abysmal and partisan; she has frequently skated across the line of malpractice. Her repeatedly putting her thumb on the scale in favor of the defense (who am I kidding?—she acted like she was lead counsel for the defense) felt even worse, because we know Donald is guilty. We know he stole our national security documents; we know held them in non-secure locations; and we know he refused to return them. We know these things because we witnessed Donald commit the crimes—and he confessed to them over and over again.

There is no way to interpret Cannon’s decision other than as a political favor from a corrupt judge who, along with the illegitimate super-majority of the Supreme Court (especially Clarence Thomas) is determined to put Donald above the law.

[...]

What happened at Donald’s rally in Pennsylvania on Saturday was deeply wrong and un-American. The same can be said of his plans for this country if he’s put in the Oval Office again. We can’t be quiet. We can’t let the side that continues to traffic in violent political rhetoric blame us shame us or scare us into silence. We must continue to sound the warnings—there will be no pivoting to unity and peace. There will only be Donald and his sycophants and enablers being exactly what we have known them to be. This morning, while pundits and columnists were, once again, falling for the promise to pivot to unity, Donald simply couldn’t help himself. In response to Cannon’s horrifying ruling, he called for the “dismissal of ALL the Witch Hunts—the January 6th Hoax in Washington, D.C., the Manhattan D.A.’s Zombie Case, the New York A.G. Scam, Fake Claims about a woman I never met (a decades old photo in a line with her then husband does not count), and the Georgia ‘Perfect’ Phone Call charges.” 

[...] Not long after Cannon’s corrupt gift to him, Donald announced the selection of Ohio Senator J.D. Vance as his running mate. If his goal was to pick a hypocritical bully and revanchist sycophant, he could not have made a better choice. Clearly, Vance thinks he’s immune to the kind of consequences suffered by Donald’s former Vice President—you know, the guy who almost got hanged by Donald’s mob—but I’d still suggest that Vance watch his back. Vance is stronger than Pence when it comes to pursuing his own interests, but he’s as transactional as Donald. Pence has very few principles, but on one important days, he had least one when it really counted. Despite the enormous amount of pressure that was brought to bear on him, he showed up to do his job on January 6th. Vance will have no such compunction. If you have any doubts about that, consider his comments to George Stephanopoulos:

“If I had been vice president, I would have told the states, like Pennsylvania, Georgia and so many others, that we needed to have multiple slates of electors, and I think the U.S. Congress should have fought over it from there. That is the legitimate way to deal with an election that a lot of folks, including me, think had a lot of problems in 2020.” Of course, Donald gave this fellow-insurrectionist a promotion.  Jen O’Malley Dillon of the Biden-Harris campaign, put it this way, “[Donald] picked J.D. Vance as his running mate because Vance will do what Mike Pence wouldn’t on January 6: bend over backwards to enable Trump and his extreme MAGA agenda, even if it means breaking the law and no matter the harm to the American people. In other words, Donald didn’t want to take a chance that his new running mate would ever put the country first like Pence did. That’s one more guardrail that no longer exists. 

Mary L. Trump nails it in that we cannot unite around the fascistic and divisive Trump/Vance agenda.

[magioftheseas]

The Concept Of Self

Written for @sayakazine Please check out the fundraiser!!! Summary: Sayaka needs a change in direction when it comes to her image. Who better to ask but the Ultimate Fashionista? It's strange, then, that Enoshima Junko doesn't act like expected at all. Rating: PG Warnings: None really. Notes: This is one of my two fics posted for the Sayaka Zine! It's Ikuzono-focused but you can read it platonically. I've always been super interested in the idea of Sayaka interacting with Mukuro while she's disguised because, uh, Mukuro's not the best at acting and Sayaka would definitely notice. I love writing Sayaka as more shrewd and inquisitive while Mukuro is floundering. I think they're cute. Currently, the Sayaka Zine is running a fundraiser, so please show them support! Special thanks also to @softausterity for the illustrations, which are included in both the zine and the Ao3 version. Go check them out, too! ***Alternative Ao3 Link*** Commission? Donate?

She didn’t look at many fashion magazines growing up, even after she debuted.

She loved fashion and pretty dresses as much as the next person, but it had never been her passion. Just something she appreciated and respected from a distance with little understanding beyond if she thought an outfit was cute.

At the beginning of her career, she was told it was okay to not concern herself with such things.

“You’re cute enough without trying!”

Except now it’s become,

“You can’t keep coasting on your natural charm forever.”

She supposed she had expected this to a degree. As distant as she was from the normal teenage girl, she would’ve been a fool to not notice the rising star of the fashion world.

One Enoshima Junko.

–

There were other girls with noticeable style, of course. The Black Cherry girls were a strong example with the guitarist especially standing out. That guitarist, Mioda Ibuki, had a personal style that was as bold and brazen as her music.

Sayaka admired that commitment to individuality, but when she looked at herself, the difference between her and Mioda-senpai was as stark as peacocks and sparrows. No, Mioda-senpai knew herself better than anyone, but Sayaka didn’t think that she’d be understood at all.

But someone like Enoshima-san might be different. Enoshima was similarly bold and outspoken, but her interviews also depicted her as someone with a keen perception and a knack for understanding not just people but people at their deepest and basest.

When she finally met Enoshima, she had been on edge.

…but Enoshima-san wasn’t what she expected.

–

“Enoshima-san, can I speak to you for a moment?”

“Uh, why?”

What caught Sayaka’s attention first was that Enoshima was always on edge around her.

“It’s nothing serious! I just want to talk!”

“O-Oh, that’s, fine, I-I guess?”

Enoshima would cross her arms defensively and not at all like the powerful young woman who was predicted to take Japan by storm. Almost as if that person had been nothing more than an illusion.

But the Enoshima-san in the magazines absolutely isn’t a person that the press could fake.

There must be something that Sayaka is missing.

“Have I done something to offend you in some way?” she asked innocently, taking in the twitch in Enoshima’s eye. How Enoshima just barely manages to disguise her grimace as a grin. “I’ve actually come to you for advice, Enoshima-san.”

“Oh. Oh!” Enoshima does perk up at that, but she still seemed strangely flustered. “L-Like about…boys?”

Oh. Oh.

“It’s not about Naegi-kun at all.”

“I-I didn’t say–!” Enoshima balked, face a now brighter shade that rivaled her red nails. “W-What even gave you the impression?!”

“It’s a joke,” Sayaka chirped with a laugh. “I know there are rumors about Naegi-kun and me, but an idol is nothing without her fans. I’d never do anything to break so many hearts.” She does pause, switching to a more serious mode. “It actually is about my fans. More specifically, the image I present for them.”

The sky was unbearably bright. A more blinding blue than the shade of Enoshima’s widening eyes. Enoshima was no doubt taken aback.

“How am I supposed to…?” Enoshima stopped herself, flushing again. “Wait, so you’re looking to change…your look?”

Sayaka felt her smile strain. A shameful slip that had her want to dig in her nails and heels.

“In a manner of speaking, Enoshima-san. I’m glad you understand.”

It’s supposed to be Enoshima’s talent. Enoshima should understand fashion and image better than anything, from the matter of boys to the matter of her own heart.

Enoshima’s shoulders hunch in the most pitiful way. She worries on her lower lip extensively. Her bright blue eyes go downcast. Her mouth works to speak, but hardly a sound comes out. The bright red of her cheeks really does bring out those homely freckles.

“If you don’t have the time,” Sayaka said, with a pang of sympathy overriding any disappointment. “That’s fi…”

“It’s fine!” Enoshima exclaimed, finally bursting. “I-It’s absolutely fine, Maizono!” Tilting her head back, she forces a hearty laugh. “I’m just surprised! Didn’t think you’d go out of your way to ask me about something like that!”

She’s being honest.

Enoshima clears her throat.

“S-Say,” she says, quirking an eyebrow in a way that only slightly distracted from the sweat dripping down her cheek and the clamminess of her clenched hands. “How about a shopping trip? J-Just us two girly girls.”

She’s uncertain, but she’s earnest.

Sayaka doesn’t have to force her smile in the slightest.

“I would love that, Enoshima-san.”

–

There’s a shopping district nearby Hope’s Peak Academy. Since a lot of Ultimates flock there, it’s always bustling especially in the afternoon. To call it a cornerstone of trends would be an exaggeration. It’s a perfectly ordinary distinct, it’s just in a convenient spot.

Not that Sayaka would know for sure. Enoshima was wetting her lips in a clear sign of nerves rather than offering any judgment on the matter. When Enoshima noticed her curious stare, she forced a grin and snatched up her arm.

“Let’s do this, Maizono!”

Her voice cracked at the honorific. Likely also nerves.

Sayaka had already put on her best-disarming smile, but Enoshima was already tugging her into the first clothing store, closest to the entrance.

Was it convenience, or…?

It wasn’t her place to assume.

–

“This is cute, isn’t it?”

She had picked out a soft blue dress. Rather plain but the kind of thing worn in movies going for a rural charm. It’s the kind of unassuming but lovely thing that Sayaka would usually go for.

She can’t help but think that the Ultimate Fashionista would call it drab, but Enoshima is terribly tense as her gaze flickers from Sayaka’s innocent face to the cloth.

“It’s, uh, fine, yeah.” Enoshima finally forced a grin and a thumbs-up. “Is it what you’re looking for?”

…so that you can hurry up and leave?

“I’m not sure,” Sayaka said, and it was a nugget of truth despite everything. “Can we keep looking?”

Enoshima looked like she might be sick, but kept up that grin.

“S-Sure!”

The next outfit that Sayaka entertains is a poofy blouse. Enoshima simply nods along, agreeing that it’s cute. She even points out that the mannequin was wearing it so it must be popular.

Shouldn’t she know based on her own intuition?

She did notice. Enoshima looked over clothes as well, but idly like she had never been clothes shopping before. Enoshima did seem partial to some colors and designs, but they largely seemed more suited for blending in with the bushes over dazzling a crowd.

Just to test her, Sayaka did pick up a dress that was patterned with earthy tones of green and brown. She knew who it’d remind Enoshima of, and she saw how Enoshima’s eyes brightened when she brought it over.

“How about this, Enoshima-san?”

It’s a dress that even Sayaka knows she wouldn’t be able to wear, regardless of how charming it was. It’s too unassuming. Even her plainest clothes needed to have some level of flashiness. The Ultimate Fashionista would also say as much.

“Uh…” Enoshima-san hesitates, cheeks pink. “Is that…what you’re into?”

Sayaka just smiled as she always did. Smiled, smiled, smiled.

“Why? Do you think it’d look good on me?”

“Well,” Enoshima stutters. “I don’t want to recommend something you don’t want to wear. And I’ll be real, I don’t even know what you want to wear.”

“I’m not picky.” Her smile wouldn’t twitch. “This is for the fans as much as it’s for myself.”

Enoshima just frowned at her.

“Are you sure? Are you sure it’s for yourself as much as it’s for your fans?”

Ah. Enoshima-san is making herself into a problem now.

“Sure I’m sure!” A cute laugh here. Smile, smile, smile. Turn up the CHARM! “Why wouldn’t I be sure?”

Rather than at her, Enoshima looked up at the store lights.

It smarts a little.

“Do you like the dress or not?” She finally cut straight to the point. “Do you think it’s cute? Unassuming but so very charming? Because I’ll trust your opinion on anything, Enoshima-san. You’re the Ultimate Fashionista, so this is your talent, right?”

Enoshima looked at her shoes next. Her cheeks are flushed, and it’s likely not because of the dress.

I feel like I’m bullying her. That’s not how an idol is supposed to act at all. What’s wrong with me?

Enoshima doesn’t even assert herself. She just shrugs before sullenly nodding. Sayaka had once thought that the Enoshima-san she read about would tear someone apart if they dared to cross her. She had envied that idea to an almost sickening degree.

I’m already twisted, but…

“Do you think I should just forget about my fans?”

Still, I…

“That I shouldn’t consider them at all?”

Enoshima’s shoulders hunch.

“...m-maybe?”

She sounded so unsure.

“I-I mean.” She’s stuttering. “Isn’t this about you and what image you want to put out?”

“In a sense.” Sayaka is calm. “But idols aren’t anything without their fans. Not considering them at all would be cruel. I exist for their sake, so…”

“So you’re going to restrict yourself based on what you think they want?” Enoshima’s frown deepened. “I don’t think that’s what self-expression is about. It, uh, sounds like the opposite, actually.”

The thing is that Enoshima’s sentiment was sincere. She still wasn’t confident at all, but it was still a belief from her heart.

And it was ridiculous. Cliché and cheesy, but Sayaka had begun to suspect…

Maybe Enoshima-san has a secret twin or something.

That should’ve been the end of it. If this Enoshima wasn’t actually the Enoshima-san that she read about, then what actual good was she? This trip was a waste of time. A total waste, but she supposed it made for a pleasant enough detour.

And this Enoshima-san isn’t a bad person. She’s cute much the same way that Naegi-kun is. But my fans always come first.

“It can’t be helped,” Sayaka found herself saying. “I’m an idol, so that’s the way that things need to be. I can’t be like Enoshima-san.”

Enoshima warily regards her. That’s her first cue.

“I had a great time.” She made a move to put the dress back on the rack. “And I really do appreciate your help. I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

“You’re just going to cut things off here?” Enoshima’s voice rose. “Seriously?! You haven’t even tried on any of the clothes you showed me!”

Just like how unassuming Naegi could be full of surprises, it was a shock when Enoshima reached out and grabbed her wrist.

“So what if it’s not what the fans want? The fans aren’t even here, Maizono-san! If you want to wear these outfits, you should! I won’t judge!”

“A-Ah…”

Enoshima’s grip was stronger than she could’ve imagined. Enoshima realized that too when she winced, hurriedly retracting her hand.

“S-Sorry, I just…” Enoshima scratched the back of her neck. She dug in her nails like it itched terribly.  “I’ve just been thinking… I want to see what you want to wear. Even if it’s not what others want; if it’s what you want… What’s the harm in dressing up? That’s…what I wanted to say.”

Her wrist wasn’t swollen, and she really should leave. She really should.

Instead, she says. “It might be underwhelming or disappointing. I’m…afraid I’m not as sparkly on my own as I am on the stage.”

“That’s fine,” Enoshima almost replied too quickly. “I still want to know more about you. Despite our, uh, differences, I think we could get along.” Then, quieter, she mumbled. “You kind of remind me of someone I really like and admire, so I do want to help you…”

“Ah. Hm.” Sayaka tilted her head, genuinely curious because that person couldn’t be Naegi. “Who?”

“N-Not important!” Enoshima squealed. “Do you have to try and distract me instead of just answering the question?!” She’s whining, too. It’s so childish. “You always do that!”

She’s the one that’s like Naegi-kun. I can’t help but tease her.

She can’t help but laugh.

I can’t help but like her.

She takes the dress back and holds it close.

“Alright!” She exclaims like it’s easy. Like it’s simple. Like her heart really is light. “I’ve actually always wanted to wear green. I like green more than pink if you can believe it.”

“I don’t,” Enoshima said bluntly. “But I understand it.”

Sayaka smiles wide, and it doesn’t even hurt in a bad way.