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ultralightpoe · 9 months

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The Freak and The Princess -Eddie Munson

Authors Note: I think I wrote this one back when the new season first came out? Cleaning out drafts and for a couple months I was on an Eddie track fr fr

Word Count: 13,441

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT - Eddie and reader are mean to each other for a bit.

(Thank you for the gif @johnclaytonmayer)

Enjoy!

It was amazing to think how much things change.

There had once been a time where you considered Eddie Munson to be your best friend, that and your brother Gareth. There had been a time where you thought Eddie Munson was one of the most perfect people in the world, where you had craved to spend any possible second you could with him.

Now, sitting in the back of his van soaked to the bone as you sob, you find that you’re somehow sitting across a stranger. He watches you closely, eyes stern as he wraps a blanket around you to try and help the shivering.

It was weird to recognize every single detail of him and still feel like you didn’t all at once.

“Do you want to smoke? Will that help?” He asks, already reaching for the lunch box hidden in the back so he could grab one of the joints you had seen him roll earlier in the day.

“I want to go home.” You cry, a shiver going down your spine. “But I don’t want them to see me like this.”

“Okay.” He nods, and you can see him try to come up with a plan. “I can take you to my trailer for a bit, you can shower and sleep some of this off. Okay?”

“Okay.” You nod, hands still shaking. “Thank you….. thank you Eds.”

He stills at the nickname, eyes catching yours for a moment before he is shuffling to get into the driver seat without another word.

You felt silly, calling him his nickname after everything that’s happened, shuffling to lay on your side to help ease some of the pain built up. You hear him shuffle around with the music, debating if he should have it up or down.

“Do you want music, bugs?” He asks, your chest warming at the nickname as you close your eyes, inhaling the scent from his sweater and blanket as you fall asleep.

You had met Eddie your freshman year of highschool, before that he had always been Gareths mysterious friend that you had never seen before.

But now that you went to school with them it seemed that Eddie was everywhere, not that you minded.

You had quickly become a main member of their group, sitting with them at lunch and going to their band practices. You and your brother had always been close, so it wasn’t anything different than how it used to be. You were just hanging out with your brother…… and his extremely hot friend that you sometimes imagined kissing. No biggie.

But being completely honest everything about Eddie to you was a huge biggie.

Like right now, as he glared at you while angrily breaking pretzels with his teeth, and all you could do was smile at him.

“What is wrong with you?” He snaps and you preen under the attention.

“I said what I said.” You simply reply, flipping your hair over your shoulder with confidence.

“How can you hate Texas Chainsaw?! It’s such a classic movie! First of its kind!” He whines, snatching a fry from your plate.

“You say that about every slasher movie, Eds.” You grumble, snatching a pretzel from his bag. “They’re all new and amazing to you.

“Because they are!” He sighs, obviously frustrated that you wouldn’t agree. “You’re just upset that we didn’t watch that new goonies bullshit.”

“What’s going on?” Gareth asks, sitting beside you with his own lunch tray and snatching one of your fries even though he had some of his own.

“We were just talking about movies.” You mumble, a blush rising across your skin. Wednesday nights Gareth had to work at the gas stations over night shift, so you had begun hanging out with Eddie when your brother was busy. That had turned into spending the night at Eddie’s and telling your older brother that you were spending the night at your friend Abigail’s since you knew he would get butt hurt that you hung out with Eddie without him.

“Bugs here thinks Texas chainsaw sucked.” Eddie grunts, throwing a pretzel at you.

“Oh no way! It’s so good!” Your brother gasps as Jeff joins the table and soon Paul joined. Suddenly the table was packed and chaos filled the once normal conversation.

You allowed them all to talk over you, choosing to look around the cafeteria as they do so. Everyone today seemed to be in a flurry of excitement, laughing and dashing across the cafeteria.

You make eye contact with Adam Hanson, one of the schools popular basketball players and he gives you a wide smile, winking as all his friends talk around him.

At first you pass by it, not really thinking he was looking at you until he waves his hand to get your attention again, smiling like a goof as he wiggles his fingers right before he winks again.

A small touch at your wrist pulls you back to the table, where Eddie is peering at you with wide brown eyes as the boys yell at each other about something. His thumb is rubbing your wrist softly as you try and smile.

“You okay?” He asks, looking past you to where Hanson sits before looking back to your eyes.

“I’m fine. Hanson has always been a clown.” You mumble back shrugging.

“Okay well I was asking you if you want to retry.” Eddie mumbles, thumb still rubbing your wrist.

“Retry?”

“Movie night.”

“I’m not watching texas chainsaw again.” You laugh which makes him smile.

“I meant we need to make up for it. Get a movie you might actually like.” He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Gareth works tonight and Wayne is going to be doing an all nighter at work so we can get another movie.”

“That sounds like fun.” You smile at him, watching his shoulders relax a bit.

“What sounds like fun?” Gareth asks turning to you.

“Burning the government down.” You reply, smiling innocently.

“That sounds like fun, count me in.” A new voice emerges from behind you, making the rest of the table blink slowly as you turn to see Adam Hanson standing there smiling wide. “What time should we meet up? I’ll bring the gasoline.”

“I think our rebel van is already full this time. Maybe you can catch the next round.” You smile.

“Burning down more than one government are we?” He laughs with raised eyebrows.

“Mmm. Maybe a monarchy next.” You offer, shrugging a bit as he laughs like it’s the funniest thing in the world. “I like to keep my options open.”

“Can we help you?” Gareth scoffs, glaring at Adam like he was being a huge issue.

“Hey, take it easy. Just trying to join a revolution.” Adam teases, hands held up in a surrender way and winking at you once more before walking off to join his friends at the door while your brother glares at you like you had done something wrong.

“What?”

“That was gross!” He scoffs. “Dude was ogling at my baby sister.”

“No he wasn’t.” You scoff back, blushing a bit as your brother rolls his eyes. Risking a quick look to Eddie, nervous about his reaction, you find him wide eyed looking between your brother and yourself.

“Wasn’t that disgusting, Eddie?” Gareth snaps, pulling the poor dungeon master into it. “The kid barely notices you then you hit puberty and suddenly he’s all over you? Fucking perve.”

“Why are you making such a big deal about this? He was just being nice.”

“You’re a child. And he was not just being nice.” Gareth scoffs again, smacking the back of your head. “It’s called being a pedophile.”

“Doesn’t count. They are both minors.” Jeff reminds through a mouthful of pizza.

“Yeah well it’s still gross.” Gareth snaps.

Now, completely embarrassed by this whole ordeal, you risk one more look at Eddie only to realize that he was avoiding eye contact and pretending to read the textbook in front of him.

“I’m gonna go to my locker.” You mumble, the embarrassment eating you. You grab your stuff quickly, dropping off the tray into the trash before exiting all together.

Eddie’s trailer had once made you nervous, the idea of being where Eddie lived and slept.

But now? You were very used to it, excitement fills you whenever you come over.

Knocking, just as you always do, after parking your bike by the side so it doesn’t get stolen. Soon enough the door was cracking open and Eddie’s face came into view, a smile breaking out on his face when he sees you, opening the door wider to reveal he is only in sweats with his torso of tattoos that has your eyes widening.

“You’re early.” He mumbles out, rubbing his eyes to try and wake up, pulling you in so he can shut the door from the cold. “Jesus. Why is it so chilly?”

Within moments he is pulling you in for a hug, rubbing your back in an attempt to warm you up. You’re body is immediately ablaze, cheeks warm from blushing and skin hot.

“It’s this funny thing called fall.” You joke, hugging him back tightly before he tries to shuffle you both back to his room without breaking it. A giggle escapes you when he trips slightly before you let go so he can walk normally and moves to his room with you close on his heels.

It’s a routine that you both follow easily when you arrive, going to his room to change out of everyday clothes and into something more comfortable.

He lets you wear one of his band tees and sweats, snatching the pillows from his bed as you change, and then he leads you back out to the living room.

“I went ahead and got the goonies for you, because you’re a nerd.” He grunts out, moving to put the tape in. “Why are you so early today?”

“I didn’t go home, I had a meeting after school and came straight here.” You answer, watching his interest peak as he raises an eyebrow.

“What meeting?” You wait for him to sit on the couch, laying down before extending his arms to grab you so that you both could lay down, pressed to each other as you fixed the blanket.

“Cheer. They have an opening so I signed up for the auditions.” You mumble, using his chest as a pillow while he looks down at you.

“You want to cheer?”

“Yeah. I always have. I used to do it all the time, cheer camp and everything but when I first came to Hawkins someone told me I shouldn’t.” You answer, adjusting the blanket so it covered you both as his hands move to play with your hair.

Something about Eddie? He was ALWAYS touching you. Found every excuse in the book to do so. And it annoyed you to no end because he was so casual about it and it always left you flustered and a mess.

“Is that why that kid came up to talk to you today?” He asks, something off about his tone. “Seemed like you knew him.”

“I have math class with him.” You yawn, closing your eyes and keeping your nose pressed into his chest as you fall asleep.

Sometime later he wakes you up, half asleep himself to get you both to his room, falling into the mattress and pulling you in to fall back asleep.

“You’re being so weird today.” Gareth snaps through a mouthful of cereal, leaning against the locker next to yours.

“Shut up.” You mumble out, not daring to look him in the eyes as he draws attention to you both.

“Why me shut up? Dude this isn’t a good idea.”

“Gareth. Take it down a notch.” You warn.

“You want to be on the cheer team? Really?” He scoffs. “That lame group that shares maybe one brain cell between them?”

“With me there might be more” you try to tease, watching him roll his eyes before another figure emerges.

“Dude. Where were you last night? I called like 6 times.” Gareth sighs, and you’re just thankful that the conversation moved on from you for a moment.

“I went to bed. Take it down a notch.” Eddie shrugs, looking at you the same time you looked at him.

Technically he wasn’t lying. He had gone to bed. “What’s the problem?”

“My sister wants to join the world of bimbos and stds.” Gareth snaps, and you feel Eddie move forward to avoid being pushed in the crowded hallway, his chest hitting your shoulder with warmth.

“You want to date Steve Harrington?” He laughs, making you smile back.

“She wants to be a cheer slut.”

“Who does?” This time it’s Paul that asks, with Jeff right on his tail. And once again you’re thrown in the center of their arguing.

“Seriously?” Paul laughs when he is told, blatantly laughing in your face. “That’d be so hilarious!”

“Hey, come on.” Eddie warns.

“I mean she’s….” Paul trails off a bit and you find yourself filling in on the words he didn’t say. You’re what? Lame? Ugly? Unlikable?

“It’s not gonna work.” Gareth shrugs.”I just don’t want you to get hurt buggie.”

“She’s not gonna make it. And even if she does it’s not like she’ll be on long.” Paul giggles to himself. “You’d have to put out to the-“

Eddie and Gareth both punch his shoulders on either side, as hard as they can.

“See you at cheer practice, ……” a soft voice rings out, drawing your attention to Chrissy Cunningham, a girl in your class.

She held a small smile, one that said “I got your back.” And you realized what she must have seen, you surrounded by a bunch of guys making fun of you.

So you give a tiny wave, which makes her smile widen and suddenly you were smiling too, a little happier when she walks off.

Something light fills your chest until you look back to Gareth who glares at you. “You’re not even in yet and you’re already acting like one of them.”

“I don’t get why you’re so mad. Paul, you said last band practice that I annoy you guys.” You remind, snatching one of your books as Eddie stands straight suddenly. “Being a cheerleader means I don’t sit in on practices anymore.”

“Wait; you said that?” Eddie asks, chest still pressed into your shoulder as he holds out his hand to Paul in a shocked way. “Why?”

“Cause she always-“

“Can we get back to the problem at hand? You’re gonna be all cool and popular and lose all your personality.” Gareth snaps. “Just another girl with a pretty smile that the jocks use and abuse.”

“I’d still hang out with you guys?” You laugh, closing your locker. “What are the chances that we all stop being friends? I live with you, remember Gary?”

“Whatever bugs.” He huffs, a small smile playing at his lips.

He waltzes off after that, bowl of cereal in hand as Paul and Jeff follow him to class. Eddie remains, watching you.

“I don’t know why Paul said that but-“

“Eds, it’s fine. He’s a little right at the end of the day. I mean there’s only so much I can talk to you guys about so maybe it’s time I make a couple more friends.” You shrug.

“You can talk to me about anything though.” Not about the huge crush you have, or the way every time he touches you your heart beats fast.

“Not about periods or bra sizes.” You joke, moving to walk away, surprised when he follows you. “Aren’t you supposed to be on the other side of school?”

“You can talk to me about anything.” He states again, this time more serious. “Periods. Bra sizes. Anything and everything. I just want you to know that.”

You smile at him, shrugging and walking away to class.

Two days later you’re rushing home with excited news, a smile splitting across your face as you run to tell everyone.

Tonight was band practice, which meant all the boys would be in the garage so you’d probably tell them first, your new cheer uniform clutched tightly in your hands as you make your way up.

You see Eddie’s van parked in the driveway and excitement fills you at the thought of telling him, so you cut across the lawn, just at the point where they can almost hear you when you hear them talking.

“-I think it’s great that she’s going for the cheer team.” Jeff’s voice rings out, catching your attention “she used to cheer when she was younger right?”

“Yeah. She stopped when she got to high school. I don’t know man, I just think it’s going to ruin her you know?”

“At least she won’t be following us around all the time.” Paul grunts out, and your heart clenches. “She’s always there!”

“That is a good point.” Gareth sighs. “Maybe go and make her own friends.”

“She’s so annoying. Always talking our ear off about everything and always asking us if she can play DND.”

“She doesn’t ask us if she can play. She asks how we play and if she can watch.” Jeff corrects.

“For what though? So she can start coming to those hangouts?! She ruins everything!” Paul snaps and you suddenly feel really stupid.

“I think you’re right.” Eddie laughs, which makes Jeff and Gareth laugh too and you completely shatter there.

What happened to you talking to him about anything?

“I’m just saying man-“

“Yeah yeah, we know what you’re saying Paul.” Eddie interrupts him, still laughing. You can’t hear anymore, you turn to head through the front door rather than the garage, storming up to your room and slamming your door.

Eddie was anxious, had been all day since he found out the cheer tryouts were today.

He didn’t know what he was so worried about in general, and no matter what he tried to talk himself out of he always found something else to worry about.

What if you got in and stopped hanging out with all of them? No more secret movie nights at his trailer or sneaking you into the hideout so you can watch their shows.

No more of you coming to band practices and cheering them on. He wouldn’t get to be near you as much. You wouldn’t sit at the table with them and he wouldn’t get to talk to you everyday.

Or worse, you become one of them and you end up hating him just like they do.

But then he tells himself that neither of those would happen, you would still be their friends and you loved movie night as much as he did. Or.,….. well he hoped you did.

Besides, he would be upset if they turned you down. He knew you would be upset and he just wouldn’t be able to handle how sad you would look.

They would be idiots to turn you away, he’s seen you dance at the hideout….. well more so like he watched you intently like a perv, scared your brother might finally notice just how much Eddie liked you.

That had been his biggest concern as of late, Gareth. Watching your brother freak out everytime someone tried talking to you or everytime Paul hinted about you, well it made him feel like a shit friend.

Not to mention it made him feel bad for you. You just wanted to hang out with your brother and his friends, you didn’t need him being all weird about it.

You especially didn’t need him trailing after you like a lost puppy all the time.

Which was why he was getting so anxious at band practice, listening to Gareth get into it with Paul over you.

“This is such bullshit man, I already got you drooling over my sister at every turn-“

“I do not!” Paul snaps.

“-and not the rest of the school will be too!” Gareth yells, frustrated.

“Just wait until she starts dyeing her hair and sucking faces with all the boys on the team!” Paul gags, which makes Jeff roll his eyes.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve been head over heels in love with her since middle school dumbass. We all see it. And personally I think it’s great that she’s going for the cheer team.” Jeff adds, always the calm one. “she used to cheer when she was younger right?”

“Yeah. She stopped when she got to high school. I don’t know man, I just think it’s going to ruin her you know?” Gareth sighs, and Eddie finally recognizes what the biggest problem here was. He was afraid he wouldn’t have your back anymore.

“At least she won’t be following us around all the time.” Paul grunts out, and Eddie finds himself clenching his fists and trying not to lose his cool. “She’s always there!”

“That is a good point.” Gareth sighs. “Maybe go and make her own friends.”

“She’s so annoying. Always talking our ear off about everything and always asking us if she can play DND.”

“She doesn’t ask us if she can play. She asks how we play and if she can watch.” Jeff corrects which makes Eddie nod. He had countless nights planning the campaigns with you and always offered to teach you, but you never wanted to actually play, instead you gave him ideas on his campaigns.

“For what though? So she can start coming to those hangouts?! She ruins everything!” Paul snaps.

“I think you’re right.” Eddie laughs loudly, turning to Jeff in reference to Paul’s crush on you as they all laugh at Paul, who gets completely red in the face at the way they are all calling him out.

“I’m just saying man-“

“Yeah yeah, we know what you’re saying Paul.” Eddie interrupts him, still laughing even though he feels like pummeling his face in. “You’re madly in love with Gareths little sister and she doesn’t like you back so you have to be angry at her for it.”

“Back off my little sister you freak.” Gareth laughs at paul. “She’s too good for you.”

She’s too good for everyone, Eddie thinks, turning towards the open garage door waiting to see you. “What time was that shit supposed to end anyways?”

“All I know is she said she’d be home for dinner.” Gareth shrugs and Eddie still can’t decide if he wants you to make it on the team or not.

All he hopes for is that they are nice too you.

So he waits, and waits. Even when they are playing their songs he keeps his eyes on the door for you to emerge.

Finally Gareths mom comes out smiling to call them in for dinner.

“What about sis?” Gareth asks as everyone helps his mom set the table.

“She’s upstairs.” This catches Eddie’s attention, heart thundering as he tries to play it cool.

“I didn’t see her come in?” Gareth asks, moving to the stairs in an attempt to call you down but your mom is quick to stop him.

“Don’t. She’s upset and trying to lay down.”

“She’s upset?” Eddie asks, chest aching. “What happened?”

“I don’t know. I went to check on her and she was crying. Said she didn’t feel well.” Your mom answers and Eddie’s fist clenched.

They probably made fun of you, they probably made you cry at the try outs. Jeff taps his shoulder, mouthing a ‘chill out.’ That makes Eddie worried.

Did Jeff know he had a crush on you too?

Did Gareth know?

“Eat up boys.” Your mom orders.

The next morning was rocky at best.

You got up and got dressed into your cheer uniform, and then at the last second decided that since you were wearing the uniform why not do your makeup? You wanted to look cute for your first day on the team.

You hadn’t thought about what you overheard until your brother barged in your room, giving you a confused look as you finish up the final touches on your face, suddenly embarrassed as it all comes rushing back.

“You made it?!” He asks, which makes you roll your eyes.

“Yes. Shut up.” You grunt, pushing him out of the way to grab your shoes.

“Mom said you were upset yesterday, so I figured you didn’t make it.” He shrugs, admiring himself in your mirror before throwing your own brush at you.

“I just had a migraine.” You lie, trying to play it off. Don’t cry. Don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry.

“Damn. Sorry bugs. I’ll grab time Tylenol before we leave in case it comes back.” And with that he is gone, you hot on his heels to catch up as you dash to pack your lunch.

“Eddie is swinging by to pick us up.” Gareth informs, snatching an apple and the bottle of Tylenol before moving to count the money in his wallet for lunch.

“Why?” The only times eddie took you to school were after your movie nights when you were at his house anyways.

“He offered last night. Let’s go.” Your brother sighs, ushering you to the door.

“We’ll I don’t wanna intrude and I have something after school so I can just ride my bike.” You’re quick, moving away from your brother in attempt to make it look like you forgot something. “Go on without me.”

“Bugs, I’m sure Eddie or Paul will give you a ride after your meeting thing. Let’s gooooo.” He groans, pulling you by your hair and out the door.

When he manages to drag you to the van Eddie leans over to open the door and Gareth waits for you to hop in.

“I should just ride my bike. I’ve got something after school later and you guys won’t want to wait around-“

“We have DnD tonight.” Eddie shrugs. “We’ll be at the school late anyways.”

There was no winning with these two, so you nod and hop in, trying not to take up too much space as Eddie stares at the uniform.

“You got in?”

“Why is everyone so shocked?” You snap, embarrassed and upset. They thought you were annoying and always there and apparently no one believed you would get in the squad.

“It’s just-“

“Is that a donut?” Gareth asks, snatching it from the console.

“I got it for bugs to cheer her up-“ Eddie starts right as Gareth shoves half of it in his mouth. “Nevermind.”

“Can we just go?” You snap, attempting to avoid eye contact with both.

“Are you okay?” Eddie asks, walking with you on your way to your locker after 3rd period, his eyebrows pinched in worry and his eyes wide.

“I’m fine.” You lie, trying to smile. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Maybe because I overheard people I thought were my friends making fun of me, or maybe because the guy I’ve been madly in love with since I met him thinks I’m clingy and annoying.

“I just wanted to make sure because-“ he grunts out as Steve Harrington elbows him to get past, accidentally shoving him into you and sending you both into the lockers. “God damnit.”

Eddie is quick to give you space, reaching for the arm that hit the lockers to make sure you’re not hurt as he blinks.

“I’m fine.” You smile, enjoying the feeling of his hand on your skin. “Did you pack lunch today?”

“No. But since I stopped to get you breakfast, sorry about that by the way, I picked something up.” He explains, walking with you and dropping his hand. The way he’s staring at you makes you nervous, In the best way. And you try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach as he attempts a smile, until you remember what was said yesterday and those butterflies find themselves in a blender. “Might you be interested in sharing a store made sandwich and sun chips milady?”

“Oh how thoughtful-“ you begin, joining him in the lunchroom before you see Paul and Jeff already sitting there, panic rising. “But I realized I forgot my lunch. I’ll go get something.”

“Okay, I can walk up with you-“ Eddie starts, but you stop him.

“I’m fine! I’ll be good.” You mumble out. “Besides, Paul’s already calling you over.”

Eddie gives you a worried look, but nods and heads over to the table anyways, all the boys matching in their hellfire shirts as Paul starts loudly complaining about something.

You realize halfway to the line that your excuse didn’t make sense since you did pack lunch, and you hadn’t grabbed your wallet since this outfit didn’t have pockets so you had no money to buy anything.

And while you stood there, debating what you should do, you see Chrissy walking towards you in her uniform as well.

“Hey!” She smiles, moving in to hug you. “I’m so happy you made it! I was worried when there was only two spots and you were soooo good!”

A small burst of pride settles through you as she compliments you, linking your arms together as she heads to the cheer table. “I was also worried I'd be left alone. But you’re here and we’re gonna be so awesome!”

She leads you to the table, and takes a seat like it was the most natural thing in the world, meanwhile you were panicking. What would the boys think? Would these girls want you to sit with them?

You risk a look over to the hellfire table, seeing all of them staring at you with wide eyes, especially Eddie, who had saved the seat next to himself.

“Girl; come on! We want to do your hair!” Sarah, the captain, giggles and pulls you to sit.

It was for the better, all the boys thought you were annoying anyways. Maybe they would get a break from you.

One lunch wouldn’t hurt and you wouldn’t be so annoying. Right?

“Too cool to eat with us now?” Gareth teases, waiting for you after practice. The sun had gone down in Hawkins, and the sweat from practice clung to you making the night air twice as chilly.

He had a red mark on his cheek, which told you that he probably was being overdramatic during the campaign and smacked himself again.

“No. I…” you start to explain, right as Eddie comes out of the doors and spots you. “I was going to get lunch, but Chrissy pulled me to the table.”

“How was it?” Eddie smiles. “You got to see how the other side lived? Any exciting news to report back?”

“Nothing much,” you smile, walking with them both as they head to Eddie’s car. “I got to know them a little better and they all talked to me about my routine because they like-“

Your brother does an overdramatic yawn, tossing the back door to Eddie’s van open and throwing himself in. “Boring already.”

You roll your eyes, shutting the door on him before moving to hop into the passenger seat. Eddie gets into the driver side, looking to where your brother is already lighting a cigarette.

“So they liked your routine?” He asks, looking at you as he starts the van.

“They did!” You smile, excitement bubbling in you as you move to start talking again.

“Oh my god. No one cares. Are any of them single?” Gareth smiles, and you lean to smack his head before sitting in silence the rest of the ride.

When you get home you’re the first to hop out, turning to grab your bag as Gareth crawls out.

“I can get you guys tomorrow? If you’d like.” Eddie offers, face red for some reason. Gareth narrows his eyes at his friend, while you shrug.

“Actually the girls are gonna come get me early. Thanks though Eds.” You smile, walking away as Gareth says he’ll be ready by 8.

One lunch turned to another, then another. Then that turned to going and getting a milkshake with the girls after practice and rides from them in the mornings.

You went from always being around to never in sight, which absolutely shredded Eddie to pieces.

It’s not like he wasn’t happy for you, you seemed to be always smiling and giggling with them. You went to the mall with them on weekends and always came back ecstatic about everything you got because the girls all said it looked great on you.

You definitely grew into the feminine side, and his heart exploded everytime he did manage to see you….. and he was ashamed to admit his pants always got tighter whenever he saw you in uniform.

You messed around with makeup and you always had a style for you hair.

Eddie loved it for you, he loved that you seemed to go from stunningly beautiful to so stunningly gorgeous any guy at school wanted you. You seemed to enjoy your new look and he was happy for you. He wasn’t happy about the fact that he never saw you anymore.

So, on a Wednesday afternoon, when he was dropping off a new cover for Gareths guitar while his friend was at work he was excited to see your shoes in the doorway.

He waltzed up the stairs and knocked on your door, heart hammering through his ribcage as he heard you jump to answer it.

Then there you were, as beautiful as can be, with nothing on but a tank and shorts. Excitement courses through him, a smile spreading across his face, it has been weeks since he last saw you and now he could ask about movie night.

“Hey I-“ he stopped short when he saw Adam Hanson sitting on your bedroom floor, staring at him like he was crazy. Of course he was staring at him like he was crazy, Adam was probably wondering why the school freak was at your door. “I was just dropping off this new cover for your brother. Make sure he gets it, yeah?”

He practically shoves it into your hands, heart thundering and desperate to get out of here.

“Okay!” You smile at him and he feels his heart clench through his chest. “Actually Adam and I were finishing up homework if you wanted to watch a movie-“

Hanging out with you? Dream come true. Hanging out with you and your boyfriend? Fuck. No. So he finds himself lashing out, a mix of embarrassment and jealousy made for a bad situation. “No thanks. I have better things to do than hang out with Gareths baby sister. Or should I say better girls to do.”

He pairs it with a bullshit wink in adams direction, not daring to look at you as he moves to walk away while you slam the door.

“Does the freak always talk to you like that?” Adam asks, and Eddie can only hear ringing at the blood rushes to his ears. Freak.

He doesn’t bother waiting around, instesd he marches straight out of your house and leaves.

You’re in shock when you close the door, eyes welling with tears.

“Does the freak always talk to you like that?” Adam asks, pulling your attention to him. “Woah, hey don’t cry.”

“He’s not a freak.” You defend, as you had been doing the past two months. “And he’s never….”

What? Talked like that before? You didn’t know that, and you knew he had talked about how annoying you were behind your back? So maybe he’s said more things too.

“Never to my face.” You shrug, wiping away the tears that kept coming.

Adam sighs, moving to hug you and let you cry.

“I’m so telling my boyfriend about this.” He sneers and you laugh lightly.

“I don’t really know what you’re long distance boyfriend will do to help.”

“Send me treats that I can share with you obviously.” Adam laughs. “Hey, I can stay and watch that movie with you-“

“No it’s fine.” You sniffle. “You have a curfew.”

And he soon enough leaves, worried about you but you keep telling him it’s fine, anger coiling in your gut at every pity look your friend gives you.

How dare Eddie. How dare he embarrass you and say that. What had you ever done to him?

Sure you were the annoying little sister but it’s not like he had ever told you to back off or anything. He had always made it seem like he wanted to hang out.

You couldn’t shake the anger as you went to bed, and suddenly you found yourself in a weird spot.

The line that had originally been drawn in the sand, on whether you remained their friend or not, had quickly dispersed after that.

In fact the sand had been kicked through and suddenly, without warning, you and eddie had been thrown to war.

Gone were the cute nicknames of Eds and bugs, now when you addressed each other you referred to him as freak and he referred to you as wannabe.

You let the basketball players push him in the halls and he threw food at you and your friends in the cafeteria.

When the winter formal rolled around Adam took you, and you had been so excited for it until Eddie made some snide comment when you came down the stairs which sent you into a sour mood the rest of the night.

When winter break rolled around Gareth had let them come over nearly everyday for stupid band practice and whenever you came home you made sure to enter through the garage just to piss them off, making sure to unplug the amps each time.

Like today, hands filled with shopping bags as you came home, saying bye to Chrissy as she drove off with a wide smile, and then turning to the garage.

“Hey bugs.” Gareth greets, which you simply glare to, making sure to hit Eddie’s shoulder with your own as you pass which makes his curse out and spill his drink.

“Freaks.” You snap, unplugging their amp and hitting the light switch as you head inside. You hear them all groan, and then you take it one step further and turn off the lights in the garage completely by the power box in the kitchen.

“Damn it!” Gareth snaps when he realizes and you pick up the phone, dialing adams number since you promised to call him earlier.

He picks up right as the boys all dash inside, Gareth glaring as you pretend like you don’t even see them.

“Hey handsome, thought I’d call to check in.” You smile through the phone, hearing him laugh.

“Hello back beautiful.” Adam says, matching your tone. “You bothering the boys again?”

“Oh. My favorite thing to do-“ you giggle, slapping Gareth's shoulder when he reaches to hang up the phone. “Back off.”

“I’m getting mom.” He snaps out while Paul and Jeff disappear to the garage again. He dashes to go find your mom which leaves just Eddie in the kitchen, glaring at you.

“I miss you too.” You coo into the phone, enjoying the way Eddie’s jaw ticks as Adam laughs and plays long, enjoying the game himself.

“What’s your problem lately, brat?” Eddie snaps, his eyes angry and set.

“Hold on baby-“ you say into the phone, covering the mouth piece and giving Eddie your best uncaring face. “Can I help you, freak?”

He reaches forward, cursing under his breath as he reaches around you to hang up the phone.

“What the fuck-“ you start before he is snatching the handle from your hands and slamming it into the receiver, turning to you fully.

“Why are you being this way? What the fuck did we do to you?”

“I’d love to stay and chat, but I have better things to do. Or should I say better men to do.” You smile, moving to stand quickly as his eyes widen. When you move to walk away he goes to grab one of the bags in attempt to keep you in the room, the paper of the bag rips and suddenly everything you bought at that store falls to the kitchen floor.

Your mouth falls open as Eddie’s eyes widen at the sheer amount of lingerie sets that fall out.

Not really lingerie, but close to. All lace panties and bras that Chrissy said would look great on you.

“I’m-“ Eddie begins, moving to help you grab them at the same time you bend to grab them so your heads hit each other.

“Damn it-“ you gasp out, rushing to grab all the underwear as he helps you to try and shove them all in the bag.

“I didn’t realize you were so into Adam.” He sneers.

“Oh shut up.” You sneer back, snatching everything into your hands. “Not everything is about sex-“

“Of course it is”. He laughs bitterly. “You’re their new play toy.”

“I swear to god freak-“

“What you gonna do brat?” He seethes, getting into your personal space.

“Everything okay here?” Gareth asks, making you and Eddie jump back.

“Whatever Gareth.” You push past him, ignoring the excited buzz you feel from Eddie.

“Are….are you guys good?” Gareth asks eddie the next morning, making Eddie turn to glare at him. “Don’t bite my head off, okay? I just….”

Eddie stays silent, starting the car as he watches you waltz across the lawn in the cheer uniform.

“It’s just that she’s been so different lately and for the past couple weeks you have been too. Did you guys break up?”

Eddie, who had started driving, immediately hits the brakes and whips to look at Gareth. “What?”

“Did you and my sister break up?”

“I’m not- what- we never- Gareth-“ Eddie panics, trying to find the right words. “Listen-“

“Dude it’s fine. I always knew okay?”

“Wait wait wait. We never- she and I never-“ what the hell was happening. “Okay let’s back up. You thought we were dating?”

“Oh come on. All your secret sleepovers? You really thought I didn’t know about those? You know how many times I pretended to call her friends house for you guys so mom didn’t catch her? And all the small little touches you always had or the way you looked at her. Not to mention all the paragraphs about you in her diary-“

“We never dated.” Eddie cuts him off. “She didn’t like me like that.”

“No man. She did.” Gareth laughs. “She has always liked you like that.”

He ignores the feeljng bubbling in his chest at the thought, shaking his head. “Why haven’t you tried to kill me if you thought we were dating?”

“What?”

“You’re always freaking out about her and guys, and you always threaten Paul whenever he-“

“Guys are gross and I don’t want them hurting my baby sister. Paul is a lame excuse for a human beings.” Gareth shrugs. “And I always figured if my sister was going to date someone it should be you. You are…..semi decent.”

“We never dated. And she hates me now so I hate her.” Eddie starts driving again, shrugging like it didn’t matter.

“Why does she hate you now?”

“Not a clue.” He had a slight clue after the other night.

“Okay well, do you think you can like… fix whatever it is?” Gareth sighs. “I miss my sister.”

Eddie missed you too.

He didn’t try to talk to you, he had debated it for all of 4 hours before you had to go and ruin it.

Just when he was starting to talk himself into apologizing he turned the corner to find you, giggling and blushing with none other than Steve Harrington.

Upon hearing his footsteps you turn, face falling when you see his glare before that bitch look you’ve perfected the past couple weeks falls in its place, making his heart thump wildly as he walks closer.

“Your brother asked me to apologize.” He bites out, hands catching themselves behind his back as he glares. “Sorry.”

“Wow. What a great apology.” Harrington smiles making you slap his shoulder with wide eyes until he laughs and nods. “I’ll see you later okay?” He smiles, tapping your nose before walking off with a simple “Bye Munson.”

Eddie watches him leave before turning back to you with a raised eyebrow, and suddenly he was desperate to piss you off. Desperate to get under your skin the way you got under his.

“Oh I see. You didn’t get all the panties for one guy, you got them for the whole school.” He smiles, watching your face fall into one of shock. “What’s the deal? Tap you and then get to keep the panties? Having a buy one get one free sale?”

“Calling me a slut?” You seethed .

“If the shoe fits baby.” He coos, smiling from ear to ear as you slam your locker and move forward.

“I hate you!”

“I hate you back!” He snaps back, matching your tone as you get closer and closer until your chest are pressed against each other.

“What did I ever do wrong?” You snap, eyebrows pinching in anger and confusion. “I thought you all liked me and-“

He’s confused now, racking his brain for what you mean before he settles on an answer. “You thought the guys you’ve slept with liked you?”

The second the words come out he hears how bad it sounds, watching as your face falls and he rushes to explain that he was just trying to understand what you meant. But it’s too late and you reach a hand up to twist his nipple.

“OW! Holy Jesus-“ he gasps in pain, moving his body to try and pull away but you follow easily, pushing him into the nearest supply closet you can.

By the time you actually let go he is red in the face, using his hand to rub the sore spot and trying to glare. “Do I wanna know where you -NO OW!”

“Take it back!” You order, already twisting his second nipple which makes him gasp and move to twist your ear.

A gasp of pain slips from you and you let go of him to pull back, both of you glaring at eachother.

He’s panting, and so are you, adrenaline coating your nerves.

“What’s going on lately?” He snaps, still rubbing the sore spot as you glare back.

“You tell me.”

“No you tell me! What did I do? Do I embarrass you? Or maybe I just annoy you-“

“Bold of you to say! All you and your friends can talk about is how much I annoyed you!” You snap back.

“Who said that? Tell me and I-“

“You said it!”

“When would I ever say that?! Is it that night at your house, because sorry if I didn’t want to hang out with you and your boyfriend!” You shove his shoulder lightly and he gasps before doing it back. Acting like literal children.

You keep shoving each other, back and forth over and over until a laugh slowly starts leaching from both of you. And suddenly it was normal again, not that angry yelling that’s been between you guys for months.

“Freak.” You giggle.

“Princess.” He laughs back, but then he is peering at you, hands on his hips as he tries to figure out how to fix this.

But then, without really thinking, you are on him. Your arms wrapping around his neck as you shove your lips to his, his hands immediately flying to your hips as he lets out a surprised grunt while he catches you.

He’s still as a board for the first second, his brain taking a moment to catch up before he is diving into the kiss himself, grip on your hips tightening as he devours you in the kiss.

A small moan slips past his lips into yours, pulling you in as tight as he can, making sure to wrap his arms around your waist to make sure you stay close.

When you manage to pull back you smile, seeing his eyes closed and eyebrows pinched as he takes a breath in. “Gareth was-“

“OH YOU UTTER-“ in an instant his blissful daze is broken as you tear yourself from him, snatching the handle of the closet and storming out leaving him confused and breathless.

His brain registers finally, managing to pull himself together the slightest bit so he can chase after you, reaching for the handle and giving it a pull as he thinks about what he will say.

You just kissed him, you just did what he has been dying to do for years and then you ran.

“What the fuck?” He snaps when the door won’t open by the third pull, the handle stuck. “YOU GOTTA BE KIDDING ME!”

It’s another 30 minutes before someone is there to help him out, the janitor giving him a confused look as Eddie hauls out of there.

Un-freaking-believable.

You kiss that man child, give it your all and the first thing he says once you’re done is your brothers name. What a freaking imbecile. What a dumb ass. What a-

“Hey girl, you okay?” Someone asks, pulling your attention to where Maria is standing, wearing her cutest party outfit with a small smile playing off her lips. “You were mumbling angrily about a man child.”

“I….. ugh.” You groan, dropping the brush as all the girls turn to you with excitement.

“Tell us everything.” Chrissy smiles.

“How did he feel? Were there fireworks?” Maria asks.

“Oh my god, he definitely seems like he knows what he is doing.” Abigail giggles and you watch them all in shock as they stare back.

“What?”

“Your first kiss! How was it?” Chrissy explains, eager to know.

“I….. I didn’t kiss Steve Har-“

“Ew, of course not you have standards.” Maria laughs. “But you’re obviously frustrated about a boy and I’m betting you finally kissed Munson.”

“You….. you guys know I-?” You can’t find the words, embarrassment clawing at you as they all giggle and cheer at having caught you.

“Oh my god, were his lips soft?” Abigail squeals.

“Was he gentle? Or like possessive? I love possessive guys.” Maria groans.

“Did he treat you like heaven? Oh he’s always got this love sick look when you walk by!” Chrissy kicks her feet, all three really excited.

“Yes. Yes and yes. And no, he actually- ugh- he only sees me as Gareths little sister.” You whine, falling into the bed. “I kiss him and for a second it’s just like, amazing, and when we stopped kissing I was expecting this romantic thing. Maybe he would be all like ‘wow’ or tell me I’m beautiful. You know what the first word he said was?”

“What?”

“Gareth.” You explain, and they all gasp like it’s the worst thing in the world. So, ever the amazing friend, you sit up and start telling them everything.

“I kind of like the way your brother protects you,” Maria blushes. “I mean the boys at Hawkins are all so…. “

“Sex crazed?” Abigail finishes the thought.

“Yes. And Gareth has always been respectful to me.” Maria smiles.

“Do you have a crush on my brother?” You giggle, staring at her.

“No!” She blurts, then smiles a bit. “Okay maybe.”

And just like that all 4 of your are laughing and planning for the party.

The party at Jason Carvers house was the last place Eddie Munson wanted to be, truthfully he wasn’t even sure he was allowed. The good news is he hadn’t been kicked out because he was the dealer.

So he pretended like he was there to sell, really he was looking around for you. This was a last minute plan to talk to you, figure out where he had went wrong and try to fix it.

Figure out how to kiss you again but he’d take anything at this point, even a friendship. He’d keep his feelings in check.

30 minutes in to the party and he was beginning to think it was a bust, but then there you were, surrounded by 3 other girls he was sure were on the team, as they all passed by glaring at everyone like they were the queens of the universe.

And they were, all of them beautiful and untouchable. Especially you.

It’s like the earth stopped spinning whenever you walked in the room, Eddie’s lungs expanding as he stared at the way you greeted everyone, or rather everyone lunged to greet you.

Eddie went to greet you, then thought vetter of it and moved to the back of the room and started to talk to the kid that had money waiting for him.

He keeps along the sidelines of the party, letting you do your thing as he tries to come up with what to say.

Remember when you rocked my world less than 7 hours ago? Yeah that was amazing and I miss you.

“You okay there bud?” Someone asks, pulling his attention to where Maria, co captain of the cheer team, is smiling at him over her cup.

“Yeah, just came in for a refill.” He nods to the keg, an obvious lie since he would never drink that piss water.

“Right. Okay.” She smiles, and he moves to grab a cup and fill it up so it looks like the truth. “It’s cute, the way they all crowd around her.”

He, without needing to ask, looks for you immediately . Spotting you by the pool surrounded by a bunch of guys, all desperate to talk to you.

“Yeah I guess.” He shrugs, spine tense and doing his best not to clench the cup in his fist.

“Well the guys surrounding her aren't what’s cute. It’s the way she keeps looking for you.” Maria giggles, obviously too drunk to keep her eyes open. “Look, right there.”

Sure enough he sees you look around, bored of the conversation at hand as one of the guys snakes his arm around your waist.

He doesn’t know what he’s doing, feet already moving as Maria giggles out while he dashed outside right at the moment the tool throws you both in the booth as you scream.

His breath stops and he waits a moment for you to emerge, your eyes immediately meeting as you struggle to get to the edge of the pool, the strap of the dress you wore broken.

The girls are all there to help you as the tool, Tommy something, reaches to pull you back in. Eddie makes quick work of pushing him in with his foot, and snatching you from the water while doing his best to make sure you’re not too exposed.

“You okay?” He whispers, hand sliding up your body to cover your breast as you try to fix the strap quickly.

“Y-yeah.” You sniffle, obviously holding back tears. “I’m fine.”

The girls, your friends, are all yelling at Tommy and the other cheerleaders soon join and start throwing stuff at him in the water, Harrington pushing him back in whenever he tries to crawl out.

“He was just being silly.” You try to ease yourself, struggling with the strap of the dress. “I don’t know why I’m upset.”

“You were just thrown into water. It’s okay to be upset.” He smiles, shrugging off his jacket and moving to place it around you so you’re covered. “You wanna leave?”

“Yes please.” You nod, and he gets to moving, pulling you with him as your 3 friends all wave and smile like they know something, cooing out a “bye eddie.” At the same time.

He gives them a tight wave, helping you out since you seemed to have lost a heel in the pool.

“Is this even considered a dress?” He scoffs, leading you to his van.

“It’s very popular in france.” You answer, letting him pull you down the street where his van is hidden, helping you into the back of it.

By the time he pulls into the trailer park he can’t hear you, which means you're definitely passed out back there, and he feels guilty over every pothole and bump he hits before he is pulling into his regular parking spot.

Wayne’s car is gone so he assumes his uncle is already at work, hopping out of the van and going along the back to open the door you’re closest to. The blanket had moved around a bit, exposing your legs to him and the smallest sight of your panties that has him feeling guilty and quickly readjusting the blanket as he rubs circles on your back to wake you up.

“Let’s go princess.” He hums, helping you crawl out and get into the house.

“It smells like….”

“Sorry.” He blushes, embarrassed. “I didn’t really clean like I normally did whenever you came over.”

“It’s fine. I was gonna say it smells like you.” You mumble, waiting for his cue to go further into the trailer. It was odd for him, watching you wait, and he’s suddenly reminded about all the time you’ve been separated. This wasn’t a regular movie night, you hadn’t had one of those in months. You probably didn’t feel comfortable being here.

“I c-can go turn on the shower so it’s hot for you. Give you a moment to relax.” He offers, smiling when you nod before moving to the bathroom to start the shower. He knocks on Wayne’s bedroom door just in case before waltzing into the bathroom and starting the water, making sure the shampoo and body wash are both ready for you and setting up a towel for you to use.

When the bathroom starts steaming he moves to go get you, jumping a little when he runs into you at the door.

“Sorry!” He blurts, trying to step out of your way. You shrug, moving past him and into the bathroom, not waiting for him to leave before you shuck his sweater off and move to take the dress off.

“Help…” you mumble, struggling to roll the fabric off since it was soaking wet and unable to reach the zipper.

So he moves forward, ready to help you, until you stop him. “Shut the door Eds, you’re letting all the warm air out.”

He rushes to shut the door for you, tripping over his feet and accidently falling into the door which makes it slam shut and you gasp out. “Are you okay?”

“Yep. Yeah. Fine.” He mumbles, standing straight and trying to play it off like it was smooth. “Y-you still want help?”

“Yes.” You nod, watching him closely to make sure he is okay before turning back around and fixing your hair so he can see the zipper.

With shaky hands he slides it down, enjoying the way your skin shivers at the feel of his fingers down your back, before he helps you slide the fabric off your hips for it to land on the floor.

Your skin is cold from the fabric, and it reminds him of coming in after a snowball fight and having to fight to get the jeans off leaving him in the damp but not yet wet skin.

Without meaning to his eyes trail across your exposed back, heart stopping when he realizes you had forgone a bra and only had a pair of panties on.

“I….” He tries to find words, watching you turn your head to peer at him over your shoulder. “I’ll go.”

“You’re gonna leave me to shower in silence?” You scoff, slipping the panties off, obviously unaware of the torture you are inflicting when you toss them with the dress and move to step into the shower.

Your legs are shaky, and he’s panicked. You might slip so he moves to help you step into the tub, his hand wrapped around your elbow gently as he makes sure to keep his eyes on your face.

“Stay and talk to me?” You ask, and he’s sure you’re just messing with him. Torturing him as payback as you close the curtain and step into the water.

He sits on the toilet, using the towel he had gotten you as a cover on his lap just in case you peaked your head out, he didn’t need you seeing his massive boner like the freak he was.

“Why were you at the party?” You ask after a moment. “You hate Jason Carver.”

“I needed to sell.” He answers a little too quickly.

“Did I ruin your sell’s since you had to help me leave?” You ask, guilt in your voice. “I’m sorry I-“

“I made enough.” He interrupts you, struggling to breathe in the shirt with the steam. “Why were you at the party? You used to hate Jason Carver too.”

“I still do. Ugh he’s the worst and he’s always following Chrissy around like a little puppy. And he’s so mean to everyone.”

“He’s friends with Adam isn't he?” He finds himself asking, and never in his wildest dreams did he ever think he would be gossiping about the jocks. Especially with you.

“Not really, Jason said some really messed up things when Adam told everyone he’s gay.” You explain and Eddie snaps his head towards the direction of the curtain.

“He’s gay?!”

“You can’t tell anyone okay? It’s a secret and he wants to come out himself.” You answer back, and Eddie finds himself standing up.

You must see his figure get up through the curtain, because you open the curtain and peak your upper body out. “You’re not leaving are you?”

“N-no. I’m just shocked. I thought you and Adam were…”

“Absolutely not. Mom would never allow Adam in my room if he we were.” You laugh.

“So that night you invited me for the movie, you weren’t dating him?” He was stupid, so entirely stupid.

“No? Why would I invite your for a movie in front of my boyfriend?” You laugh, and he can’t seem to process anything. Stepping forward so he was within arms length of you.

“So you weren’t inviting me to hang out with you and your boyfriend. You were actually wanting to hang out with me?”

“Yes?” You roll your eyes. “And I know it’s lame. I’m just Gareths little sister and all that-“

You disappear from his view once more, pulling both the curtains into the middle to close off the shower again as you keep going. “But I actually thought you liked hanging out with me. You know? And maybe if I gave you guys space I wouldn’t be the annoying little sister all the time but then that day rolled around and you…. It was silly. I shouldn’t have asked you-“

A small shriek falls from your lips as he whips the right curtain open, glaring at you.

“What the fuck do you mean give us space? Who said what?” He’s angry now, jaw set as he glared. “What’s all this about being annoying and suddenly giving us space. Is that why you don’t sit with us?”

“Yes! You guys just think I’m Gareths annoying little sister!” You snap, and Eddie realizes that you’re completely naked right now, so he quickly shuts his eyes with a groan and pulls the curtain back sharply, keeping it clenched in his fist as he tries to relax.

“We don’t think that.” He snaps, eyes still squeezed shut. Truth was he always tried not to think of you as Gareths little sister, with the amount of times he’s imagined you-

You snap the other curtain to the side, letting some of the water hit his jeans and making his snap his eyes open right as you push your face close to his. “I heard you guys!”

“You heard us? When was this, Princess? Cause I’ve never-“

“The day of my tryouts! I came home and you guys were talking about how annoying I was and-“ he realizes then what you had heard, his eyes widening as he stares at you before he leans forward to catch his lips onto yours, a small gasp falling from you as he lets go of the shower curtain to wrap around you. Only problem was he was leaning into you and you didn’t have a proper stance so you slipped, and he fell forward into the tub, cursing out to try and catch you both as you accidently bit down on his lip.

He keeps one arm around your shoulders, his other catching the tub floor just in time as his body lands on yours.

The water is hitting his back, soaking his clothes as his boner pressed into your naked form, blood leaking from his lip where you bit.

“Are you okay-“ he begins to panic, but you’re already pushing up to pull him into another kiss, moaning at the taste of iron as your hands slide up his hips until they manage to crawl beneath his shirt and feel at his back, trying to inch the shirt off.

He pulls back to lean up, whipping the shirt off and flinging it out of the tub, panting as you try to move so the water doesn’t hit you in the face while he moves to help you.

“It was Paul that day.” He explains. “I don’t know what you think you heard but it was only Paul saying that. Jeff was making fun of him because the tool has a massive crush on you and- shit I’m no better am I? I’ve been dreaming about you every fucking night since I met you.”

And once again, like two magnets, you find yourself kissing him again and he is obsessed with his. Obsessed with your taste and the way your body melds into his own as you press your chest into his. When you reach for his belt buckle he moves a hand down to stop you, shaking his head through the kiss and moving to stand with you.

You follow, clumsy and confused, especially when his hands slide to your hips to turn you around so your back is to his chest.

“What are you-“ your question is met with his hand sliding across your stomach and further down until his fingers find purchase in your folds, a soft moan slipping past your lips that has his blood thrumming.

“Is this okay?” He whispers, feeling the water hit both you as you nod quickly, his name slipping past your lips. “I need to hear it, please.”

“Yes!” You snap, your hand moving to push his wrist to apply pressure. “Eds please!”

So he lets himself, pressing his thumb into your clit as he leans to kiss at your neck, his lip stinging against your skin as you mean out when he moves to slowly press a finger into you.

“You’re not just the annoying little sister.” He whispers into your skin, fully pushing his finger in and wiggling it until he was ready for another, pulling it out to press both in. “I’ve never seen you like that.”

“Eds.” You gasp out, keeping one hand on his arm as the other flies to his hair, clenching and pulling it into your fists.

“If anything princess, I’ve tried talking myself into believing it.” He grunts out, pushing his fingers in quicker than last time. “But you’re not. You’re my girl. Right?”

“Yes.” You blurt quickly, tugging at his hair and tilting your head to try and kiss him. He doesn’t let you, keeping his own lips pressed into your neck.

“You’re my girl?” He asks again, voice deeper as his fingers speed up, his thumb circling your clit. The feeling of your body pressed to his, the way your hips rotate ever so slightly to try and match his movements and accidently rub your ass against his crotch.

His jeans are now soaked, even if they weren’t from the water he is sure he’d have a wet patch from all the pre cum leaking out as he grunts out at the friction.

“Yes. Always.” You answer, gasping at the pleasure.

“Promise?” He grunts, nipping a bit as you try once more to kiss him.

“Eds please!” You cry, hips moving faster as you chase your high on his fingers.

“Promise me princess.” He growls and your eyes squeeze shut, eyebrows pinching together as your face contorts into one of pure pleasure. You barely manage to yell out a quick “swear it.” as you shake against him, making a smile spread across his lips.

“Atta girl.” He coos, finally allowing you to tug him into a kiss, biting down on your lip as you kiss him like your life depended on it. “You wanna go to bed?”

“Yes please.” You sniffle, swiping the bangs from his forehead as he leans to turn off the water; keeping a hand on you at all times while he manages to get you both out of the shower.

Wrapping a towel around you and snatching both your clothes quickly before leading you to his room.

The second he shuts the door behind him he sees you drop the towel and crawl across the bed to fall into the pillows, not even giving him a moment to grab you a shirt.

“Wait. Lemme grab you-“ he starts, struggling to shuck off the soaked jeans and boxers before you are moving to help, helping him step out of them and dragging your hands up his thighs until they reach his hips and you’re pulling him into the bed with you.

“I thought you wanted to sleep?” He chuckles, pressing a kiss to your collarbone as you both crawl up the bed.

You fall into the pillows, hair splayed out as you smile at him, wrapping your legs around his hips while he covers you both with his comforter, trying to warm up.

“I said go to bed. Not to sleep.” You mumble with a small attitude, canting your hips up into his own which makes him moan loudly. “This is bed, isn’t it?”

“Oh, smarty pants are we?” He laughs, pressing a kiss to your temple as he melts into you. His forearms slid under the pillow as he let his body weight lay against yours, kissing you ever so slowly as you tried to wiggle around and make it work. He lifts his hips for a moment to help you out, and once you’re settled he presses into you, beginning to grind himself against your folds as you hug each other close.

“Jesus Christ.” He gasps, eyes squeezed shut as he presses his forehead to your own.

“Who knew the satanist was so religious ?” You tease, pushing your hips forward trying to gain more friction.

“Gotta be right now. It’s not everyday a freak like me has a cheerleader in his bed.” He smiles, kissing the corner of your lips softly.

“I mean it could be.” You offer, making him freeze for a moment. “Or maybe in the drama room. I’ve had tons of ideas about the locker room too.”

“Princess-“ he grunts, reaching a hand to cover your lips. “Please. You’re ruining me.”

You lick his lips and laugh when he pulls away to reach for his nightstands, moving your hips against his and kissing at his chest as he searches, getting more and more frustrated.

“Come on- shit baby- I- please- I gotta find a condom just give me a moment please.” He gasps out, and you smile at him.

“Forget it. I want you. Come on.” You coo and watch him physically shutter, hips pressing into yours tightly as his hands roll into fists and his eyes shut tightly.

“Eds?”

“Stop. Give me - fuck- a moment princess.” He grunts, shaking a bit. “I’m gonna bust before I even start.”

So, being the brat you are, you push your hips up until he is entering you, moaning a bit as he gasps loudly.

“No no no no.” He gasps out, which makes you freeze.

“Is it wrong? I’m sorry?” You panic, moving to pull your hips back quickly which makes his hand snap out to stop you.

“It’s not wrong. I just- I refuse to cum.” He blurts, keeping you in the spot with a tight hold. “I can’t cum so soon.”

“You can.” You whisper, kissing at his neck and nipping at the skin here and there. “I wanna feel it.”

“I hate you.”

“I hate you too.” You giggle. “And I need you to move.”

He takes a deep breath in, giving himself one more moment to try not to cum and then begins moving his hips. Slowly at first, moaning softly as you wrap around him perfectly, moving himself so he was laying on top of you and hugging your body to his before he begins a brutal pace of snapping his hips into yours.

You stay close, both hugging each other as he moves, the bed thumping against the wall with each thrust.

Your moans quiet the closer you get to finishing, turning into strangled grunts and mewls as both of you focus in. The sounds of skin slapping just adding to the pleasure of it all as you come undone around him, making him gasp out as he lets go, filling you easily.

“Oh my god.” He breathes out, shoving his nose into your neck as you try to breathe.

“There’s that religion again.” You tease, eyes closing as your body finally relaxes. You don’t hear his response, numbing out a bit, snuggling close until his warmth is ripped from you and you have no choice but to open your eyes.

“No no. You’re not sleeping yet.” He grunts, slapping your thigh lightly before helping you shuffle. “I’ll help you to the bathroom.”

So he puts on a pair of boxers, putting you in one of his band tees and helping you shuffle to the bathroom to pee, and grab a warm washcloth so he can clean you up while kissing all over your face and whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

“My good girl.” He murmurs, leaving a kiss on your ear before leading you back to the room and shoving the towels and dirty clothes in his hamper with the washcloth.

You tuck yourself into his bed, waiting for him before you close your eyes and get comfortable.

“Freak.” You whisper out, face pressed into his chest.

“Wannabe.” He murmurs back, playing with your hair as you finally fall asleep.

You’re woken up by the shrill ringing in Eddie’s trailer, snapping awake as he lunges up and blinks.

The ringing stops after a minute, and then Wayne’s voice breaks out calling for Eddie.

“The phone!” He calls, making Eddie roll over you to pick up the phone.

You giggle when his body collapses on top of you as he answers, catching the smile he sends your way.

“It’s Eddie.” He grunts, eyebrows shooting up when the person on the other side yells.

“You know where my sister is?! She was supposed to be home last night and-“

“She’s here, calm down. She slept in the couch.”

‘Liar’ you mouth as he rolls his eyes, pinching your side.

“Okay. I’m coming to get her.” You hear Gareth snap before Eddie shakes his head.

“No. I’ll drop her off when she wakes up. I’ll be by for band practice anyways.”

You hear Gareth mumble something out before the receiver clicks and Eddie hangs up on his end.

“How’d he know to call here?” You ask, reaching a hand up to play with his hair.

“He thought we were dating already.”

“Oh?” You laugh before he bites on your collarbone. “Freak.”

“Wannabe.” He grunts out, and before you know it you both are stripping once more, being quiet since Wayne is in the other room.

The cafeteria is a mess Monday morning, everyone yelling as some music plays over the speakers to get everyone excited for the game later.

You took a moment to look across the room, not really being able to see much due to how crowded it was, but you made it to the cheer table, saying hi to the girls as they all giggled over the mark on your neck.

“You wanna go sit over there?” You ask your three closest friends, wiggling your eyebrows.

“You’re out of uniform aren’t you?” Jason asks, eyes narrowing at your shirt. Today you had chosen to wear a hellfire shirt over your cheer uniform.

“Technically not.” Steve adds from the next table over, glaring at Jason.

“What happened to your face?” You ask, eyes wide at how bad he looked.

“Byers.” Steve grunts, and you laugh before the girls get up to follow you to the table.

All four of you, (Chrissy, Maria and Abigail) walk up slowly, making all the guys stop and look up.

“Can we sit?” You ask, watching Eddie’s face burst into an excited grin as Gareth quickly snatches a chair for Maria. Abigail and Chrissy take the last two open spots and there was no more room.

“I can grab a chair-“ Eddie starts, already standing to grab one before you shake your head, moving to sit on his lap.

“I’m good here.” You smile, making him smile back and kiss your shoulder through the shirt.

“Are you coming to DnD?” Paul asks as Gareth pretends to gag at you and Eddie.

“No, we have a game tonight that I have to cheer at. But I figured I can wear this until then.” You shrug.

“Where’s yours Eddie?” Paul asks, glaring at the dungeon master.

Eddie raises a brow, and the entire table seems to freeze as they slowly realize that Paul hasn’t figured it out yet, even with you in Eddie’s lap.

“What?” He asks, looking around.

“This is mine.” Eddie mumbles, pinching some of the fabric of your shirt between his fingers.

“You’re wearing his shirt? Gareth, you’re gonna allow that?!”

Another moment of silence passes before the entire table is laughing in his face, Eddie pressing his nose into your back with his hands on your hips as he cackles.

“What’s so funny?! Gareth said none of us could date his sister!”

“No, I said you couldn’t date my sister, nerd bomber.” Gareth laughs.

“What does it matter?” Eddie laughs. “I thought she was Sooooo annoying!”

He imitates Pauls voice for the last part which sends the table into another fit of laughter.

“Don’t you have a girlfriend in canada?” Chrissy asks, turning to you. “That was him right, the one dating the model in canada?”

“W-we broke up. I dumped her.” Paul corrects which makes the girls laugh harder. “You guys suck.”

“And you swallow!” You snatch one of Eddie’s pretzels to throw it at his forehead, hitting him perfectly as he glares.

“Not funny.” He mumbles, and the table absolutely loses it.

You’re surprised when you see Eddie leaning against the bleachers that night, now in his hellfire shirt and leather jacket as you get ready to perform with the girls.

When he spots you looking he sends a wink, crossing his arms as he watches the routine. When you’re done you dash over as the game starts, giving him a quick kiss.

“Aren’t you supposed to be-?”

“I had a couple minutes. Thought I’d come see what all the excitement was about.” He smiles, surveying the game going on from your spot in the corner.

“What do you think?”

“Well seems pretty boring to watch Harrington and Carver fumble around, but there was this really smoking cheerleader.” He chuckles making you roll your eyes.

“Freak.”

“Wannabe.”

“Brute.”

“Brat.”

“Airhead.”

“Princess.” He smiles, kissing you one more time. “You wanna come watch the campaign?”

“I have to dance at halftime and cheer them on. You’ll tell me about it later though?” You ask, giving him your best doe eyes.

“You got it.” He smiles, bringing your hand up to kiss your knuckles before shaking it so the Pom Pom shakes. “Decide on what movie for tonight?”

“I might be willing to give Texas Chainsaw one more shot.” You smile. “I think you deserve it.”

You already know he won’t make it 10 minutes into the movie without jumping your bones anyways.

“I was thinking breakfast club.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why not?”

“Cause I might actually want to watch the movie.” You tease before Chrissy calls you.

Giving him one more kiss before dashing to cheer with the girls, Eddie watches you for a moment before leaving to go play DND.

The second you both are done you meet by the drama room doors so that you can go to his place for movie night, a new routine you had built up.

Weekends were for your friends; these nights were for just you two.

TAGLIST :: (Lmk if you want removed or added for more Eddie fics.)

@h-ness1944

#eddie #munson #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanart #eddie stranger things #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fan #stranger things fanart #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger thiings

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catcze · 10 months

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While you were both dancing around... whatever kind of relationship you have, you had become intimately familiar with the fact that Wriothesley loved to call you terms of endearment. From anyone else, you'd gag and cringe at the cheesiness of the pet names, but somehow Wriothesley just made them work. Even some of the most cliche ones ever— My Heart. Love. Amour.

You had just been getting used to it, had just been getting used to fighting down the unbidden curl of your lips whenever he calls you by these names, when he decided to change things up a little.

"Hey, mon cœur, come take a look at this for a sec," Wriothesley says easily, barely even looking up from the newspaper in his hand. You, however, stop in your tracks.

Mon cœur. My love. Mine.

You're not entirely sure when Wriothesley started adding 'my' to the beginning of each of his cheesy little pet names, but you can't deny that every time you hear it, it sends you into a flustered little tizzy. You try to beat back the flutter of the butterflies in your stomach, try to fight down the heat that finds itself at your neck and the tips of your ears. Goodness, you have to will yourself not to hide your face in your hands, if only because that would make your predicament that much more obvious to him.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the very object of your embarrassment stands before you, his hand light on your shoulder. His brows are furrowed in concern, the back of his hand already raised to your forehead in a soft touch as if to check for a fever.

"Are you alright?" he asks, other arm holding you steady. You need the support, but not for the reasons he might think.

“Yeah— yeah,” you say, trying to shake yourself out of it. Trying to banish the thought of him calling you my love for the sake of your own sanity. “Yeah, I’m fine, no need to worry.”

“You sure? You’ve been kind of out of it recently.”

You gulp, gaze unsubtly trying to drift away. For a second you debate between being honest and merely shelving the topic for another time, but... something about his concern makes you want to dissuade his worries, even at the cost of your own pride.

Painstakingly, you try to clear your throat. “Yeah, I just…the… the pet names, they…”

Wriothesley raises a brow, blinking for just a second before a smug, pleased little grin finds its way onto his lips. “Oh? You mean, the little additions I added to them?” And when you only nod once, unable to look him in the eye despite how physically close you both are, his grin widens.

For the sake of your dignity, your racing heart and the steady heat crawling up your face, you wish that he’d give the teasing a break, but instead Wriothesley comes closer half a step, wraps both arms around you and leans down close enough that you can see the way the blue in his eyes shifts with the light.

“Does it get you all flustered when I call you mine, mon cœur?” He practically purrs, just to prove a point. It makes you swallow heavily, makes you want to smack him out of sheer embarrassment.

You do, in fact, try to slap him on the chest but he just laughs like it was nothing— curse him and his muscles.

But he manages to catch your hand by the wrist before you can draw it back, placing a sweet kiss on the back of your hand, and you come undone.

He holds your hand tenderly, his arm still wrapped around you, keeping you cradled against his chest

"You know," Wriothesley admits softly, leaning close and keeping his voice low, like it's a secret he wants to share only with you. His smile is boyish. Cute. Filled to the brim with affection and honey. "I'm actually really happy that you like it, because I really like thinking that I'm yours, too."

[ #Taglist registration here !! ]

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #astronetwrk #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley x reader #cw gn reader #genshin impact #wriothesley

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honoura · 27 days

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Shaaloani: The Land of Enchantment Part One

Hello again! It's another lore-adjacent post from me about a niche special interest of mine. This time it's Shaaloani, the American Southwest/Northern Mexico inspired zone in FFXIV's Dawntrail.

I want to disclose a few things right at the start just to temper people's expectations: I will not be definitively ID'ing any of the indigenous-inspired structures or visuals as inspired by any specific tribe. That's not my lane! I'm going to link to things that they remind me of, for sure. But otherwise my hyperfocus is going to be on the physical environment, some animals, and the ceruleum as petroleum industry. It's what I recognize best! And what I know best, truthfully.

"Hon why are you doing this?" A variety of reasons honestly. After DT dropped I saw a lot of folks who did at least one of the following:

Commented on the Old West theme park aspect

Called it "miqo'te Texas"

Generally just called the whole map "Texas"

And if I'm honest... it bugged me! Not because I thought anyone was being malicious about it (it's mostly pop culture saturation I'd suspect), but to me it stung a bit that this zone, which I grew up on the fringe of, was... kind of flattened by a lot of people?

I don't know, the response to me just felt like people assumed they knew everything about it because they'd seen it already in movies or TV or Red Dead Redemption rather than the same open-mindedness about what was presented in places like Urqopacha.

This zone isn't just Texas -- yes there are some bits and pieces here (because it's pulling from the Chihuahuan Desert and the Sonoran Desert), but so much of it reminds me of New Mexico, Mexico, and Arizona. There's some Colorado, Utah, and Nevada there too! And the background story going on there is something that still happens in a lot of those states, by both the government and corporations alike.

That variety deserves to be celebrated! So come learn with me about the inspiration for Shaaloani!

Shaaloani Geography

Shaaloani has three major regions in the zone -- Eshceyaani Wilds, Pyariyoanaan Plain, and Yawtanane Grasslands. To get this out of the way, I'm going to tell you the one that reminds me most of Texas.

Ready?

Lake Taori of the Pyariyoanaan Plain.

It's river-fed, with canyons on both ends of the Niikwerepi. The trees crowding around it are cypress trees, as you can tell by the little nubby off-shoots called knees. To compare, here is a photo of cypress trees along the Frio River:

This is also reminiscent of places along the Rio Grande and Pecos Rivers, two significant water sources in West Texas. I also would not call them bayous! Bayous typically have brackish water, are slow-moving, and are way too far east.

However, it could be partly considered a ciénega -- which according to its wikipedia article:

"Ciénagas are usually associated with seeps or springs, found in canyon headwaters or along margins of streams. Ciénagas often occur because the geomorphology forces water to the surface, over large areas, not merely through a single pool or channel."

As a caveat, ciénegas generally don't have trees around them, but I also know that you can't really drown a cypress and they love sunshine. Regardless -- if you see trees in the desert they are typically growing along a water source. Balmorhea State Park has some cottonwood trees native to the area that are going strong.

Yawtanane Grasslands reads as a mix of the Chihuahuan Desert and the Eastern Plains of Colorado. Both are rather arid and home to a variety of grasses that can thrive in such a climate -- which has historically made both areas home to large cattle industries (whether or not this was ever a good idea is debatable, since cattle are very thirsty animals).

Meanwhile the Eshceyaani Wilds looks similar to the Sonoran Desert -- the red-hued soil and rocks, the abundance of cacti with the scrub brush and some drought-tolerant grasses. Here's a shot of the Sonoran within Saguaro National Park in Arizona:

Saguaros also only grow in Arizona in the States! As well as the organ-pipe cactus, which you see in Tender Valley. And prickly pears grow just about anywhere they can get a chance -- as well as barrel cacti, both of which we see in Tender Valley (along with what could be agave!).

You could probably make a case for it being a piñon-juniper scrubland -- everything's very short compared to those cypress trees, including the juniper trees! Piñon-juniper scrubland's found throughout the Southwest. There are also piñon-juniper savannahs and persistent woodlands intermixed in the same places. The difference lay in what plants you find with the piñon pines and junipers.

Visually, aside from the Sonoran Desert, I can also see a lot of New Mexico, like the Ghost Ranch in Rio Arriba:

It matches up with the mountains you can see, and both Yowekwa Canyon and Tender Valley. And of course, Tender Valley is likely a Grand Canyon reference, going by the sheer height of the cliffs. But you could also make a case for Canyonlands National Park in Utah.

There's a shot from Grand View Point Overlook within the park -- the closeness of the canyon walls and the warm earth tones also evoke Tender Valley!

There's also a lot of these sandstone formations in Utah that better fit Shaaloani -- like here in the Valley of the Gods:

Shaaloani Structures

I also at this point want to call attention to one of the two sites with cliff dwellings & adobe structures. We just saw Tender Valley above, which is confirmed to be old Yok Huy structures. But check out these Tonawawta buildings below.

As I stated before, I don't want to state which tribe these two styles remind me of. But I do want to say this again strikes me as another New Mexico and Arizona callback; both the Gila Cliff Dwellings and the Puye Cliff Dwellings are found in two different areas of New Mexico. And the Gíusewa Pueblo, also in New Mexico! Montezuma Castle is found in Arizona, and is pictured below! Look at that rich reddish earth color.

I also want to call attention to the place of worship for the Tonawawta in Yowekwa Canyon:

When I saw it my kneejerk response was to call it an ofrenda. But that's ultimately an incomplete response -- that was just the vibe I felt after seeing them during my life! What it also reminds me of are pictographs and petroglyphs. You find these all over the Southwest (the climate helps preserve them!), but I'm going to link some really great examples. I won't provide images to all though!

Crow Canyon Petroglyphs:

Piedras Madras Canyon at Petroglyph National Monument (New Mexico) Petroglyph Point Trail at Mesa Verde National Park (Colorado) Petroglyph Panel at Canyon Reef National Park (Utah) Nampaweap at Grand Canyon-Parashant National Monument (Arizona) Horseshoe Canyon at Canyonlands National Park (Utah) and the Hueco Tanks State Park (Texas)

In contrast, I don't want to spend a ton of time on the boom town structures in this zone; they are pretty straightforward references to mining towns during the different resource booms (gold, silver, copper, oil).

Similar blocky shapes, built out of wood. One thing I noticed as a neat addition are the decorative patterns painted on it -- again, I don't want to presume if there's a specific tribe tied to this. But I do think it's a neat touch and I want to think that's a design choice to convey the underlying theme that this is a zone at odds with advancing technology and wanting to keep hold of important traditions.

I WILL talk about the ceruleum wells and pumping though. Mostly because I'm impressed that they went with structures that so closely resemble early 20th century oil derricks. Those were also predominately made of wood (including the barrels, yikes!). The pump part of what's called a pumpjack were covered in the old days -- the ones we're most used to seeing now are made of metal and are thus left uncovered.

However, as you can see from this century old rig, even the wheel's made of wood:

I don't think ceruleum gushes the same way oil did -- it seems to behave more like natural gas. However, most natural gas pipelines do burn off excess, which can be seen as a little spout of flame atop.

Oil's occupied an awkward spot in the Southwest, and still does. Aside from the heinous crimes committed in Killers of the Flower Moon (where members of the Osage tribe were murdered for their oil shares in Oklahoma) and the Teapot Dome Scandal, oil is just... well.

Bear with me, I'm about to rag on Koana a moment.

The people who make the most money and have the most power over the average roughneck's life never live in the Southwest. They work in the c-suite and have more money than sense.

I find it very fascinating that DT chose to recreate this dynamic, this uncomfortable push-pull of a region rich in a resource, and it's being harvested at the suggestion and behest of a power that is physically removed from the area. And to some NPCs it's with a certain level of disregard to traditions and practices in place before, with the focus on the nebulous quantifier of 'progress'. Progress how? It depends!

But the folks at the highest seat of power never have to grapple with those questions, because to them it's a fairly cut and dry answer. This is the way to proceed, and if they want to take this nation into the "future", then this is the clear way to do it. It speaks to Koana's fixation on foreign technology to the point he de-values his own (partly due to his childhood trauma, which kind of prepped him to be susceptible to it).

Meanwhile the locals are the ones grappling the most with this change -- how it affects their plants and animals. Sometimes pits open up in the earth and ceruleum burns (which, Santa Rita New Mexico sank multiple times into the earth thanks to copper mining). On the map there's even discolored plants -- and they only occur in the vicinity OF the bulk of the ceruleum pumps.

This is at odds with core beliefs, keeping up with traditional practices. It puts people in the place of 'do I participate in this system, which promises work and the means to take care of my family, even as it pits me against my cultural heritage?'.

Growing up in West Texas, one of the weirdest things to me (to this day) is how many people will claim they love the land. They do! They love the outdoors, they worry over how certain species of animals have become scarcer. But they also work in the single most damaging industry because it pays the most money. It lets them cover bills and give their kids what they never had.

That same push-pull is in Shaaloani narratively; when progress has been thrust upon you, how do you survive it? How do you make sure what's dearest to you comes along with you?

In Conclusion

I want to call it here for Part One -- Part Two after this will cover more observations I had regarding flora and fauna in the Shaaloani zone, and how that also shows the attention to detail given this zone! It's a good time! There will be dinosaurs!

#FFXIV #ffxiv dawntrail #dawntrail spoilers #zone spoilers #shaaloani #ffxiv lore #lore speculation #long post

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vagabond-umlaut · 6 days

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summer collapsed into fall

summary: gojo satoru has no favourite colour. he feels no need nor interest to have one, either. pairing: gojo satoru x reader [unspecified gender] tags: slight undertones of teacher-student relationship BUT there is NO ACTUAL romance between them; can this be called pining? idk; character study like fic of our sweetest satoru *cries* he deserves sm better; fluff but with a mild serving of angst; wc 0.8k notes: fic title inspired by a quote by oscar wilde; fic inspired by this lovely post i saw on pinterest; jjk isn't mine; loosely related to 'you make my heart flutter and fibrillate'; tumblr hates me using dividers hence the new fic format ^_^

satoru doesn't really have a favourite colour.

it's never quite crossed his mind. and even if it has, he has never seen it to be important enough to allow it be anything more than a passing thought, a meaningless thought---it is not like his life will be impeded should he not have a favourite colour, nor is anyone ever going to ask him what it is, so why bother?

but now, as you peer up at him expectantly, having already listed your top five favourite colours and why you love them so, satoru wishes he did bother back then.

he decides to feign confusion.

"what?"

"what what?" you shoot back, eager gaze not wavering one bit, "i just told you my favourite colours; aren't you gonna tell me yours? it's fine even if you have just one, sensei."

but is it fine if he has none?

throwing his watch a quick glance, he turns back to you. then exhales a quiet sigh, tired but the farthest from annoyed, when he sees you're still waiting for his reply... shutting the bus window beside, he turns to lean against it, shifting to face you properly.

and sighs, decidedly noisier this time, "this isn't the type of questions one asks their teacher, y'know? they are too casual, meant more for a friend than for a teacher."

"you got to be the last guy to lecture me about etiquette, sensei," you retort without missing a beat, huffing a quiet, amused laugh.

"and after the time i had to bring you to ieiri-san after you passed out from drinking a bit too much: i guess we're a bit more than a teacher and a student, aren't we, sensei?"

not really... no.

while satoru believes your first point to be a debatable topic, he does not think the two of you are anything but a teacher and a student, no matter how much help you extended to him or will in the future---it's not like he isn't grateful, though. he is; he really, really is---it's just his belief that few acts of kindness do not necessarily cause a friendship between people, and he intends to tell you this very clearly---

but finds he cannot. he simply cannot.

not when you say, still so eager but with an undercurrent so achingly soft that even the strongest wonders if he can handle its weight: "i'm not that bad a friend, y'know---you can ask others if you want; they'll tell you i'm a good friend, not the best but a decent one---"

"why don't you guess what's my favourite colour?"

rude, yes, horribly so. satoru knows, he knows this very, very well. but what can a man do but divert when he's being unsettled by words like the ones you addressed to him, by the tenor you employed for him---

although now that he observes you consider his suggestion, the man wonders if diversion was the right tactic or not.

he could have just lied and told you any random color. he could have chosen to be honest and told you he has no favourite colour like you and probably the rest of the world have.

but no, he doesn't.

satoru does not opt either of the above two painfully simple, painfully easy options. choosing instead to ask you to guess what his favourite colour is... satoru never really anticipates he'll end up being this much more unsettled, thanks to his decision of diversion:

if there was a subtext of a haunting softness in your manners before, the sorcerer reckons it is the text now, typed out in bold letters then underlined and highlighted in neon---you too shift to face him, even moving the bag kept in between to your lap and shifting a bit closer, but still a respectable distance away---only to punctuate your effort with a keen stare, much too gentle, at him.

it's scary, he thinks. yeah, undoubtedly scary. but somewhere in the back of his mind, something says it's also comforting.

many eyes look at satoru throughout the day. they gape, they gawk, they study the man and every small aspect of his person with many different kinds of reasons behind them. but before today, there has never been anyone who has regarded him with this much care, that too for a nonsensical cause like yours...

he wonders, just what are you seeing in him?

just who are you seeing in him?

"it's orange, isn't it?" you exclaim abruptly, leaning a touch forwards with a snap of your pointer and thumb. voice too loud. smile too big. eyes too bright, way too bright---

satoru takes not even one whole second to decide:

he now has one favourite colour.

#gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #gojo x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #kit posts 📝

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wordsinhaled · 1 year

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“I need you” isn’t “I love you,” and it isn’t “Yes, let’s go off together,” but the thing is, it might as well be. And it might be one of the more honest things Aziraphale has ever said.

He has never said it aloud before now. Not like this, with eons worth of raucous indignant feeling crawling up into his throat. He had not wanted, not expected to say it like this, mocked by his own stricken reflection in Crowley's sunglasses, each lens a dark mirror.

"I—I need you," says Aziraphale, and his voice breaks down the middle. It might as well, for he's confessed too late. Crowley is shut to him, recedes from him like a wave broken on the terrible bedrock of Aziraphale's futile stubbornness.

And still, even like this, Aziraphale needs him.

His presence, his constancy. His unfailing, tenacious friendship.

Crowley’s kindness, his softness, his solicitousness under the prickly façade Aziraphale sees is just that—a layer that can be so easily peeled away to reveal the deep core of caring beneath, too entrenched to be deserved by any world they could live in. He needs Crowley’s unguarded gaze, needs the way Crowley’s forever looking at him across distances when he thinks Aziraphale doesn’t notice: chin tilted up, eyes soft as marigold petals.

A phone call away whenever anything or nothing at all happens is Crowley’s dear voice; his lovely dry humor; his sauntering, slithering, improbable walk despite which he somehow flawlessly falls into step alongside Aziraphale anywhere and all the time. His hip knocking against Aziraphale’s, casual as anything and yet so much more than. Flashes of black and wisps of red flitting in and out of Aziraphale’s periphery for thousands of years.

He needs their circuitous arguments, their winding ethical debates—after most of which they somehow end up on the same side, that is, their own side, terrifying and exhilarating in its Promethean familiarity—and Crowley’s chaotically-sure moral compass. The times Crowley is braver than Aziraphale could ever be; and the times Crowley reminds him of how brave he actually always has been.

And Aziraphale needs even the great big awful rows, the ones that end in their standing on opposite verges of another chasm of their own making. Because the culmination of such a fight is always the meeting again in the middle. It’s the low sweeping bow of their apology, a ritual not half earnest for all its facetiousness, which says so much without either of them having to utter a word. Crowley holds a whole conversation in the dip of his fiery head and the exaggerated flutter of his elegant wrists, when it’s his turn; and, when it’s Aziraphale’s, the hashing-out of differences is there in the way he executes each familiar movement with the practiced ease of a faithful courtier, though it’s been ages since he stood in any king’s court.

He needs the knowledge that they always forgive each other. Because, well, they do. They must. They will. What’s a spat or a quarrel or even a proper falling-out to two beings like them, to him and Crowley?

Aziraphale needs Crowley’s happiness. His truest happiness. If that isn't the crux of it all, what is?

He remembers the ancient light of Crowley's joy, how it had shone once about both of them like an aura through the blackness of undeveloped space. It never left, all that bright, barely reined-in giddiness, all that frenetic energy, but he's transmuted it, magpie-like, into something else. Aziraphale can sense it whenever Crowley brings him a new vintage record to add to his collection. Whenever Crowley pulls out Aziraphale’s chair for him outside Marguerite's, or orders just what he likes for him at the Ritz. Whenever he drops into the shop unannounced with a little box tucked under his arm, full of gorgeous petits fours from the new bakery Aziraphale hasn’t yet tried, and says, gleeful, Ohhh, you wouldn’t believe all the wiling I had to do to get my hands on these, angel. You’ll have to thwart me for this, I know. But first—no, no, no, first! The only sensible thing for you to do would be to try them… you’ll like the pear macaron...

And of course Crowley is right. He's right about most things, isn't he, after all? Because Crowley knows him, and he needs to be known, but it simply wouldn't do for anyone else to be the one doing the knowing.

Aziraphale likes the pear macaron, just as Crowley knew he would.

He likes all the things that come along with Crowley, really. The fast car, oh yes, sleek and stylishly classic and so very Crowley through and through, though Aziraphale has committed staunchly to grousing about it. The way no companionable silence held in Crowley's company is ever truly silent. The jaunts to the park on seasonable days: Crowley's touch lingering where he pours frozen peas for the ducks into Aziraphale's cupped palm; the fondness in Crowley's tone poorly disguised as he points out his favorite mated pair trawling placidly across the pond. The drinking together long past the small hours of the morning in the back room of the bookshop, where the walls are the same warm ochre shade as Crowley’s eyes.

It isn't ever so much about the drinking as it is about the together bit. How the space between them dwindles with the syrupy passage of time. How Crowley softens and melts into the settee. How he becomes Aziraphale's to watch, for once. How he grows so wondrously relaxed and gloriously at home there in Aziraphale's space that Aziraphale begins to wonder if this will at last be the night Crowley does not, eventually, get up and retreat back to his Bentley to take himself away again...

There is always that fragile little moment, right after sobering up, when everything in their universe seems at the same time to be entirely too set in stone and entirely too much as though it all hangs by one delicate, dissembling thread. Always the split second in which Aziraphale looks into Crowley's guileless face and remembers he could unravel everything with a single tug.

Yes, one sharp tug on the lapels of Crowley's jacket would do it, he knows. How easily it could be done... Tumble the two of them into one another, just then, and they would never be parted again. And his deft-tongued Crowley would lick the heat and the aftertaste of Talisker into Aziraphale's mouth, then, before it had the chance to dissipate completely.

He could. He could.

It's in those stretched milliseconds, brimming with a tender longing so acute it tips right over into an agony, that Aziraphale realizes: I do need all of you, darling, don't I? So terribly much it might unmake me one day. Never mind Aziraphale's most fickle and blustering attempts at denial, he knows this to be true as he knows the truth of little else in the cosmos.

And perhaps today is that day—the day Aziraphale will dissolve and be remade in the permanent shape of lack.

#good omens #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #don't mind me just thinking about aziraphale all alone up in heaven without any distractions missing crowley

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memymay · 5 months

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~ Mychael ~ Mushroom Oasis Oneshot ~

Reader who’s legally blind / has really poor eyesight

fluff, comfort - NB reader - No TW’s

Reader Insert Masterlist ⭐️

(For those of you who don’t know, you can still have sight while being legally blind, for this MC is going to have glasses. I’m legally blind without my glasses, and I’ve had this idea in my head for a good long while, enjoy!)

“Mychael… is that yours…?” You asked, staring at the tail now tightly gripping your cup. Your eyes slowly gazed up to look at Mychael, head now hanging low in his hands. It hurt to seem him like this, he was so cheery just a few moments ago.

“I… I’m sorry (y/n)” he spoke softly, “I-“ he paused, debating his next words, “I should be honest…” he slowly tilted his head up, pulling his hair back to reveal his two sets of eyes.

You stared in shook, looking from one set to the other, and taking in his expression. His brows were knit, and a small frown adorned his face… he was scared. He looked away from you, avoiding your gaze and looking around the room. His dark eyes were downcast, and his eyes were teary.

“Please…” his voice was low, almost a whisper, “I know… I…” he stopped and took a deep breath to steady himself, before closing his eyes and speaking again, “I know its a lot… but… this is what i really look like. Who I really am…”

“I know what I look like, just please,” he finally turned his gaze back up to you, eyes pleading, “Please don’t be scared…” he begged.

Finally gathering your senses, you turn your gaze to flick between his eyes, tail, ears, and horns. You weren’t scared, as much as fascinated. He was like the fae your grandmother would warn you about, like the fairies, elves, and dragons in your story books.

However, this did not reach Mychael. His perception clouded by fear, he took your silence as a bad sign. he dropped his head on the table, quietly muttering out a sentence that was barely audible, being muffled by the table. “I can hide my face, if that’s what you want, just… I…” he let out a staggered breath, not knowing what else he could say. Slowly he peaked up through his hair to see your face.

You were smiling

A soft reassuring smile, one that slightly eased his growing anxiety.

“There’s nothing wrong with how you look.” You said plainly, meeting his eyes as he picked his head off the table. He was preparing for the worst, and hopping for the best. But even so, your reaction was the farthest from what he expected. Not even in the “good ending” he had hoped for.

“R-Really!?” He asked, face lifting from disparate to a slight hopeful look, “even though I look like this?”

You reached up to grab your glasses, taking them off and setting them on the table.

“There,” you said, smiling fondly, “now I can’t see you, problem solved.”

“That’s not-“

“Mychael.” You interrupted, “You have treated me better than most of the people I know would have. And im a stranger. Your kindness means more to me than what you look like.”

You reached out to put your glasses back on, and laid your hand on his, “I’ve spent most of my life with eyesight so bad, im considered legally blind. Only recently did I finally get the right prescription. I know there are mean people, and there are nice people” You gave his hand a small reassuring squeeze, “I’d much rather spend my time with someone as thoughtful, kind, caring, and sweet as you over most.”

Mychael stared at you in disbelief as a few small tears streamed down his face. He couldn’t have hopped this would happen, not even in his dreams, yet here he is.

“And besides,” you continued, “you’re pretty in your own way. Like the mystic, natural beauty of nature infused into a person. Unnatural yes, but ugly…?” you paused, staring deeply into his eyes,

“That’s the farthest thing from what you are.”

And that was it, he decided then and there, that you had to stay. Those words, he could feel the meaning behind them. He could see the warmth in your eyes, and the honesty in your voice.

You were perfect.

And hopefully, you’d forgive him for being selfish, just this once.

notes~

Damn…. I kinda got carried away 😅. Started to feel more like I was talking to my past self rather than writing a fanfic, but I hope that emotion just made it better 🥰

#mushroom oasis van #mushroom oasis #mushroom oasis Mychael #mushroom oasis mychael x reader #mychael x reader #mushroom oasis mychael x y/n #mychael x y/n #mushroom oasis x reader

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crguang · 5 months

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somethin’ bout those tears of yours… how does it feel to be adored?

Shrieks or symphony? They’re all the same to her. However, your cries will always sound better than any orchestra.

warnings: smut, finger fucking, kafka eating pussy like i know she can, afab!reader, dom!kafka (duh), dacryphilia (thats the whole point of this if im honest)

wc: 3,2K

A/N: wow guys um. this didn’t go as planned but im not really complaining, i never write smut so i dont know whats going on but enjoy nonetheless

As eloquent as Kafka is, she can’t seem to be able to put into words why the sight of your shiny eyes and pouty lips moves her so.

It’s not so much a feeling of pity they rouse as a sort of pleasure that courses through her like rain seeping into clothes. It’s a soft delight, the kind she recognizes as when she closes her eyes and lets the high notes of a violin fill her senses. Emotion twisting your features is like a carefully building crescendo— first come the furrowed brows, then the scrunch of your pretty nose and the tremble in your lips, and finally, big, fat glassy tears running along your full cheeks. The melody reaches its climax as your eyes meet hers, the dulcet tones of your poorly contained cries bringing forth something Kafka’s never found in another person. It’s a sadistic sort of pleasure to experience, perhaps, not that she’d ever care about the gaps in her morality.

She particularly enjoys the gloss in your gaze when she’s between your slick thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh, tongue swirling around your pulsing clit. Kafka sometimes rolls her eyes at how easily you are taken by emotion—she’s almost certain it’s a facade, it has to be— and thinks you’re working in the wrong business, but she can’t complain when you’re such a pretty crier. Like a loyal dog, she makes your wants happen regardless of whether you find the courage to utter them. Your jaw clenches in anger after a rude interaction with a stranger, and Kafka threatens him in an alley. Her finger’s always been loose on the trigger. Your hand trails down her bicep in that purposeful way that lets her know you want her, and Kafka buries her nose in your cunt until tears cloud your vision and you’re firmly pulling her mouth away with a hand in her hair. She takes in a breath, lips parted and coated in arousal, as she revels in the way your chest stutters and your wet eyelashes flutter. You’re at your prettiest like this; bare, sweaty, pliable under her steady hands. What a sight it makes.

Kafka sighs lustfully, a palm against her cheek as she lets the thoughts dissipate. You haven’t noticed her stare yet, too preoccupied by your argument with Silver Wolf to spare her a glance. She doesn’t care to listen in and instead waits until the heated debate inevitably has you stomping towards her with an irritated pout. Your arms cross over your chest and the crease between your brows deepens when you plant yourself in front of her.

“This girl will argue over anything.”

Kafka’s usual smile doesn’t faze you, nor does the way her fingertips linger on your skin when she pushes strands of hair out of your face. She only hums in acknowledgment. Your nose bridge is crinkled in frustration, as is the corner of your eyes, and it’s almost enough to hear the familiar symphony that sounds between her ears. If Kafka were to psychoanalyze her every thought, she’d have wondered if witnessing strong emotional responses fascinates her because she doesn’t have any. People attract what they lack, do they not? It would explain the shiver that caresses her spine when she’s face to face with a pleading victim. Her pupils grow twice in size to take in as much of the scene as possible, and she lets violins and cellos reach their crescendo in her mind until death descends and everything stops. The following silence brings satisfaction, a fitting end to a beautiful symphony.

Silver Wolf passes by the two of you with her eyes glued to her phone screen and mutters a mocking comment she intends for you to hear. You grit your teeth. The whole thing’s pretty childish and certainly unserious, but you both have strong opinions on what constitutes a good video game, apparently.

“She likes to rile you up,” Kafka grips your chin with three fingers and turns you back toward her. “Don’t mind her.”

“I’m not letting myself be bullied by a girl who can’t reach the highest cupboard without a chair,” you say the last part loud enough for Silver Wolf to give you the middle finger as she walks away.

With the source of your frustration gone, your muscles relax bit by bit until you’re sighing and running a hand down your face.

“I need some air.”

Kafka fetches your coat.

You’ve forgotten the entire ordeal when you and Kafka step outside of a clothing store, a spring in your step that appeared after the two of you spent half an hour looking at leather jackets. You ended up buying one for yourself after Kafka’s extensive comments and suggestions. The paper bag sways as you walk through the busy streets of an unfamiliar city. You’ve never been to this planet before, everything was a sight you wished you could stop and admire for more than a few minutes but being a Stellaron Hunter didn’t come with vacations. You were here on a job and would be leaving in two days, according to Elio’s script. The first part is done, the second takes place tomorrow, which allows you a moment of reprieve to simply wander around this strange city. Your sense of orientation and perception is excellent but you let Kafka lead you through bustling markets and tight alleys to get back to the base. She doesn’t say it but you know this wide detour is a way for you to take in as much of the city as you can, so you pretend not to see the man hurriedly making his way towards you and let him push you closer to her in order to grab her hand, effectively steadying you. Neither of you lets go the whole walk home.

The place is quiet when you make it back two hours later. Silver Wolf is probably curled up in a corner with a game and the others are nowhere to be seen. You waste no time in pulling out the jacket and discarding the bag once in the living area, taking off your current coat to shrug the new one on. Kafka takes a seat on a couch, one leg over the other, her chin in the palm of her hand as she watches you.

You carefully adjust the collar and tug on the jacket so it fits perfectly, then turn towards her.

“So? Does it look as good on me as you said it would?”

The corner of Kafka’s mouth lifts as she replies, “Hm… Swirl a little for me.”

You turn a few times, allowing her to see every angle. You zip it all the way up but decide you like the look better when the jacket is open. You even take some steps to and fro, delighting in the way Kafka’s usually blank gaze diligently follows your movements.

“Yes,” she finally says after a moment, “you definitely make it work.”

“Yeah? You’d pick me up from a bar?”

There’s a playful tilt to your voice when the question leaves your lips. Kafka’s smile widens. Her eyes lazily trail down your figure, then back up to your face. She leans back into the couch and tilts her head slightly to the side, fixing you with a level stare.

“I would.”

You hum in thought as you step close enough to settle on her lap, knees on each side of her hips. Kafka doesn’t move when your hands clasp around her neck. You see the amused twitch of her lips, though.

“Do you think I’d look super mysterious so you’d approach me to see what my deal is?”

“No. You’re too expressive to be mysterious.”

That answer makes your brows furrow and your nostrils flare.

“Just like that,” Kafka teases.

You roll your eyes. “So you’d only approach me for my looks? How romantic of you.”

“I’m not trying to be romantic. But,” a gloved hand sneaks under your shirt, fingers splayed out over the expanse of your back as they trace the bones of your spinal cord, “I could show you a very good time.”

“Oh, really?” You watch her peach lips when she speaks, absentmindedly leaning closer.

She hums in agreement. Her free hand comes to rest on your waist while the other leisurely wanders up and down your back. Her gloves are thin and the fabric feels expensive against your bare skin. You don’t notice how close you’ve gotten until you look up to see Kafka’s lidded eyes fixed on yours. A shiver runs through you when the pad of her fingers reaches your nape.

“You’d leave with me, wouldn’t you?” She asks with a low drawl to her words.

Kafka’s pleasure in asking questions she already knows the answers to is lost on you. She revels in making you admit things you’d otherwise keep to yourself in an attempt to fluster you, and loves watching you fight with yourself while thinking of a response. Surprising her is no easy feat but is always a treat.

“Maybe.” You say simply.

“Maybe? I’m offended.”

“You’ll live.”

“Hm. Perhaps I should be more convincing, then.”

Her chin tilts upwards and your eyes close to await a kiss that never comes. You feel Kafka’s steady breath on your lips for a moment before she leans back and raises an amused eyebrow at you. There’s a crease between your brows when you meet her teasing gaze.

“What? Were you expecting something?”

You decide to play her game and jut out your bottom lip in a petulant pout. Her lenses don’t hide the way her eyes catch the movement.

“Are you saying you’re not going to kiss me?” You whine a little, pulling her closer by the back of her neck.

The hand that was on your waist lifts to take hold of your chin. Kafka swipes her thumb over your bottom lip.

“Is that what you want?”

The cocky smile painting her face annoys you, but you know that she’ll give you what you want. She always gives you what you want. You nod, and as your lashes flutter you can tell the exact moment she realizes your submission is an act. A low chuckle leaves her, the hand on your back trails up to close around your nape in a forceful grip, and she harshly pulls you to her until your mouth crashes on hers. It’s a rough and hurried kiss; you feel her tongue push past your lips as you try to match her pace. Kafka keeps you where you are with only a hand and forces you to follow her lead, a clear reminder of who’s in charge between the two of you. Your guts tighten as she kisses you long enough that you have to exhale sharply through your nose to avoid getting dizzy. Her tongue explores your mouth like it already knows where everything is and swirls around yours in a way that has you arching against her.

You recognize the look in Kafka’s eyes when she suddenly pulls away, bottom lip shining with saliva. You’re sure she can feel your heartbeat sending ripples through your chest with how close it is to hers. An unapologetic smile makes its way onto your face. You take great pleasure in knowing she’ll make you regret your blatant manipulation.

Frustration builds inside you at the same unhurried pace as Kafka’s single digit plunging into your cunt. Her lips ignore your clit as they plant wet kisses to your slick folds, her tongue occasionally dipping between them with strokes far too light for your liking. It’s been half an hour and Kafka’s still between your thighs, savoring the taste of your arousal with no care for your release. Her gloved finger feels good against your walls and the wet sounds it makes as she thrusts it inside you only turns you on more, but it’s not nearly enough to make you come. Your wrists tug on their restraints— the glowing pink silk keeps them above your head on the mattress, unable to move. You tilt your head to the ceiling and groan for the hundredth time.

“Kafka, come on…” Your whine is real this time as you look down at her figure between your legs.

Kafka only hums over your twitching clit, then deserts it completely and raises her head to meet your eyes. Arousal stains her mouth, giving it a pretty sheen like the one on her favorite coat. Her finger opts for a massage and rubs your clenching walls as your lips part to let out another pained whine. Kafka watches the way your hips greedily chase your release, bucking towards her appreciative mouth.

A breathy moan breaks your pout when her tongue licks a long stripe up your slit. It’s warm and wet against you, and it sends pleasant shivers down your spine every time it makes contact with your needy cunt. Kafka takes her time tasting you and it’s in moments like these where you curse her patience. She has no issue working you up for hours because she knows the end results will be satisfactory, so she turns a deaf ear to your complaints and pleas. There’s a coil in your belly begging to burst and you can’t do anything but try to get Kafka to care.

“Please? Give me more…”

Kafka’s lips abandon your folds with a wet sound. She sighs exaggeratingly and adjusts herself between your thighs so she’s kneeling, then holds you down with a hand on your hip.

“So noisy,” she says, a glint in the depths of her eyes that you’re not sure you like. “Don’t make me shut you up.”

“Don’t be mean.” You groan in frustration when her finger completely stops moving inside you. “Come on.”

“Mean?” Kafka repeats, a slow smile spreading across her lips. “Fine.”

She plunges three fingers inside your waiting cunt at once, hard and fast, and the sudden intrusion has you choking out a surprised moan.

“W—Wait—“

You don’t have time to adjust to the stretch, she doesn’t let you. The next breath gets caught in your throat as her fingers drive inside you with a speed you’re not accustomed to, effectively shutting you up. She brings her other hand to press rough circles on your clit, forcing the sensations to overwhelm you completely. Your hips stutter. It feels good beyond the initial shock, great, and you’re still huffing out short gasps while you eagerly take in her digits. Your vision blurs at the edges. You can still make out Kafka’s intense gaze on your face, drinking in your expression like the sight alone could make her come.

Once you get used to the rhythm, moving against her hand and sighing in relief, Kafka stops entirely. You struggle to let out a pained noise as her fingers leave your cunt at once before you even have time to beg.

“No,” you whine, “please…”

You’re getting irritated and desperate, the feeling curls around your throat and threatens to spill in an embarrassing sob. You swallow it as Kafka slips two fingers past her lips. She suckles on them while you try to control your breathing, taking longer breaths and willing your heart to slow down lest it bursts. The digits come out wet with a mix of saliva and arousal. She spreads them apart to see the sticky string that connects them, before bringing them down to smear it over your sex in a teasing manner.

You exhale sharply when her thumb swipes over your clit a few times, not enough to build your orgasm back up despite the pleasure it brings. You tug on your restraints a second time and feel humiliated when Kafka only watches you with lidded eyes and a happy smile. You know what she’s after, what she wants from you. It’s the only way you can get her to fuck you like she means it, so you take another deep, shaky breath and keep quiet.

“Oh…?” Kafka’s middle finger circles your entrance when she witnesses your resolve. She doesn’t say another word, simply pushes it inside in slow thrusts.

You bite into the flesh of your cheek as her thumb massages the base of your clit then teases the tip. Your chest heaves but you’re determined not to make a sound. She masturbates you the way she wants to; circles your pulsing clit, slides a forefinger between your slick folds, watches the way her middle one disappears inside your cunt as if swallowed. You take it like she wants you to, also, because she’s the only one who can push you over the edge. When you least expect it, Kafka thrusts three fingers inside you at the same pace as earlier, knocking the wind out of you until you’re a moaning mess. With every sharp thrust and the pressure on your clit, you get closer to your release. Then she stops, drastically slows down to a mere massage that has your nose scrunching up and your lips trembling. A lump forms in your throat after she denies you for the third time.

She plays you like a string instrument, denies you relief she knows you crave, until your brows twist in that pretty, familiar way and she hears the bright, crisp tones of a melody meant for her ears only. Her lips part and the pupils beneath her lenses swallow the pink of her irises. She stills, muscles taut, senses attuned to every crease of your skin and quiver of your features. You take in a shuddering breath through your mouth, your eyes screwed shut in frustration and need and finally, you cry. Fat tears spill from the corner of your eyes and slide down your skin into your ears. Kafka’s reaction is instant. Her fingers drill into you, fast, rough, unrelenting. She moves to hover over you as your orgasm builds in your belly and reverently kisses your tears as they escape your eyes. Her mouth is gentle while her fingers are not; there’s a distinct ringing inside her head when the sound of your whimpers hits her ears and the salt of your tears coats her lips. It’s as she feels your cunt squeeze tight around her fingers while she softly shushes you that Kafka realizes something else.

You come with a broken cry, pleasure coursing through your body like a sudden shock as the coil in your stomach finally bursts. Kafka tears herself away from your glistening face to watch how you gush over her fingers and ruin the sheets under you. The sticky mess makes her own cunt clench, she particularly enjoys how messy things can get during sex. Her silk glove is positively dirty, the material gleams in the light and is thick with your arousal when she takes her fingers out of you.

You’re coming down from your high with your nose buried in Kafka’s neck, and occasional sniffles can be heard as her cleanest hand strokes your hair. This feeling she’s become familiar with suddenly has a name, it swirls around her ribs and snakes under the sturdy walls of her heart. Kafka doesn’t need to be eloquent to know that she adores you. She adores you especially when she makes you cry because she can soothe it all away afterwards.

#honkai star rail #hsr kafka #kafka smut #kafka x reader #kafka x you #hsr x reader #hsr smut #dom!hsr #honkai star rail smut #fem!reader #dom!kafka #hsr fanfic #hsr x you

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olderthannetfic · 8 months

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Until I read the comments on that one post I had no idea the Bechdel Test was a joke and wasn't supposed to be a serious measuring stick by which you gauged if something was feminist or not. Everywhere I'd ever heard it brought up, it was brought up as a very serious thing, and it was a failure of media if it didn't pass it. I remember the debate about Mako Mori from Pacific Rim and if she was a character you were "allowed" to like as a progressive person despite the fact that Pacific Rim doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, the discourse, the discussion of if the director was sexist for not writing in another woman for her to chat with about non-men related stuff, the camp of people trying to insist that having a fully realized character arc and being as developed as any of the male leads = good writing even if she doesn't talk to another girl...

And I've also had the remark about my writing not passing the test, just not to my face. I searched my fanfic's name once, curious to see if anyone was discussing it outside of tumblr and AO3, and found a Tiktok complaining about it not passing the Bechdel Test. The top comment was "motherfucker YOU don't pass the test but we still watch your ass". I cackled and moved on, but neither the commenter, poster, nor I had any awareness this wasn't Feminist Media Critique 101 theory and was, in fact, a goof.

Right now there's a segment of fandom debating if Blue Eye Samurai is feminist since when Mizu and Akemi talk, they do bring up men, since, y'know. Women aren't considered people with rights in their era in Japan and thus it's something they mention instead of only talking about being cool girlboss badasses who never bring up gender. If something doesn't pass the Bechdel Test, a smug segment of the internet high-fives itself and congratulates one another on being More Feminist Than Thou.

They then get really angry if you disagree, even though by this metric, Sleeping Beauty (the original animated one, where Aurora has only 16 lines of dialogue) is more feminist than Blue Eye Samurai.

*DYING*

Okay, so, nonnie....

Dykes to Watch Out For (1983-2008) was a long-running comic and major piece of lesbian media. I grew up buying compiled volumes at the bookstore. To be honest, that kind of 90s-ish lesbian culture isn't really my scene despite me being bi, but it was very nice to have this slice of life-y somewhat realistic, occasionally somewhat parody, look at the queer communities around me. It's up there with Tales of the City for me in terms of being a window into a particular culture and time and place.

If anybody is interested in queer history, in addition to looking up factual info, I think a read of the complete Dykes would give a really good overview of how people were thinking about things and what issues came up a lot. You'll see things like Barnes & Noble increasingly putting feminist bookstores out of business in the 90s, attitudes towards porn in lesbian circles—all kinds of cultural issues of the day.

I drifted away as I got later in my teens and found more genre fiction I cared about, but at one point, this comic was a very welcome antidote to the glurgey coming out stories that made up a lot of the more realistic media.

Anyway, here's the comic itself, reproduced in its entirety because I think it's important to actually understand the context.

This is from 1985, so the era of Rambo, Conan, and Death Wish, each of which you can see being made fun of here. It's based on Bechdel's friend Liz Wallace's actual rule for seeing movies.

That's it. That's the origin of this whole stupid test.

"LOL, fuck 80s action movies". That's it. That's the joke.

The fact that blockbusters still routinely fail to pass in the 2020s is shameful, but that was never the point of the strip.

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holllandtrash · 2 years

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may the best man win | lando norris, pierre gasly

pairing: lando norris x reader, pierre gasly x reader part 7 (final part) to better left unsaid (the better series)

time passes, feelings changes and sometimes they grow stronger. do you attempt to return to the history you know, to what once made you feel comfortable? is it even possible for you to love again, but more importantly, are you ready to be loved?

word count: 6.6k tags: heartbreak lmao but its not all heartbreak, or is it idk all i know is im team max

Two Months Later

Pierre should have been ecstatic as he crossed the finish line in Abu Dhabi. It was his last lap, his last race of the year. He finished in the top ten in the driver standings, ahead of his team mate, which was something he should have been proud of, and he was.

He was also proud of the fight he put in this season, especially when the points became close, specifically with Lando. The two of them spent the better part of these last two months battling it out for the same finishing positions.

But competition with the British driver had been tense ever since Monza. While it was unspoken, they both took their frustrations out on the track. Both of them blamed the other for why you weren’t there.

Fans had picked up on it. Noticing that the two of them didn’t interact as much as they used to. There were no inside jokes shared in the paddock. They barely glanced at each other if they had press conferences lined up. There was a clear line drawn between them and that line was you.

Pierre told himself that you were at home watching the races, that you were still cheering him on, but there was no way of telling if that was true or not.

He had thought about inviting you to the last race of the season, just out of kindness, but he didn’t want to push you further away. You needed time.

So there was no one to congratulate him at the end of his last race. No one to drive back to the hotel with and reminisce about the season's highlights and no one to accompany him to the club where everyone was celebrating. It didn’t help that the girlfriends of other drivers were all there as well and Pierre just had to smile and greet them, pretending he wasn’t jealous even though all he wanted was you at his side.

Pierre stepped up to the bar. He’d be blind not to notice the tall blonde girl sitting on the stool wearing a tight black dress that made her legs look even longer. She eyed Pierre up as he approached, a coy smile on her face.

Pierre was polite, he smiled and nodded. She could have been a fan of motorsport for all he knew, he wasn’t going to be a prick. He rested his forearms against the surface of the bar and when the bartender approached, Pierre ordered a rum and coke. He didn’t need anything fancy tonight, he just wanted to get drunk.

The girl next to him adjusted herself on the seat, nearly slipping off. Pierre glanced in her direction, strictly out of concern, “You alright?”

She let out a breath of a chuckle, “Yeah, all good. Just-” she glanced around, but Pierre knew these tactics, he was familiar with them. “-just waiting for a friend, but I think I may have been ditched.”

Pierre hummed, turning his attention to the bar again, tapping his fingers against the counter as he waited. It was rum and coke. How long did it take?

He froze when he felt a freshly manicured hand rest on his arm. He glanced at the contact, trying not to let the distaste show, but why was this girl touching him?

Since you left him in Monza, Pierre hadn’t even bothered looking at another girl. He’d go out with his friends and other drivers, but he’d always end up back at his hotel room alone. He no longer cared about the chase, he didn’t care about getting in a quick fuck.

If he was being honest, there were dozens of nights where Pierre hovered his thumb over your contact name, debating calling you after a long day. He wanted to hear your voice, even if it was just for a second, even if you didn’t answer and he was left with your voicemail, he just wanted to hear you.

But he never called. He didn’t text. Didn’t even like any of your photos on instagram, giving you the space that he knew you needed. Granted, you made it clear it was Lando you were trying to distance yourself from, but Pierre knew that trying to interfere while you were in the process of moving on wouldn’t be beneficial.

So he waited, in the hopes that you would call. Or text. Or like one of his fucking tweets, literally anything. Anything to show that you still cared. That you weren’t done because he certainly wasn’t.

No one compared to you, and Pierre had known that for a while, long before that night in the club.

Ever since Lando joined F1 and you showed up at his side, Pierre took an interest in you. In the beginning, he didn’t know what sort of relationship you and Lando had, so he kept things respectful so as to not cross a line.

But he could hear your laugh from halfway across the paddock and instantly recognize it. Your smile lit up whatever room you walked into and it wasn’t long before Pierre came to realise that he wanted to be the reason for it.

So he tried talking to you, but at that point, he already had a reputation. You were polite, sure, but you didn’t give him the time of day that he wanted and your attention always went back to Lando.

Pierre noticed it pretty quickly, how in love with him you were. He could never figure out why, he still couldn’t. You deserved someone better than Lando, someone who put you first in their life.

And even when you started to see that someone else could love you, that Pierre could possibly love you, you still went back to Lando.

Pierre should have accepted this as something that would always happen. He should have gotten over you and flirted with the girl next to him in an attempt to forget you ever existed.

But that just wasn’t possible. You had made too much of an impact on his life and left too large of a gap when you left.

“You seem lovely, but I’m really not looking for anything,” Pierre let this girl down gently, slowly peeling her fingers off of his arm. He turned his head forward before she could say anything else and it was only a second later when she hopped off the seat and walked away.

The bartender came and placed the drink in front of him, apologising for the wait. Pierre brushed it off, it was a busy night in this club. He reached for his wallet to pull out his card and start a tab, knowing he’d be here for the next little while.

But the bartender shook his head. He wasn’t about to take the payment.

Pierre chalked it up to him being recognized. Not that it happened often, but every now and then he’d get a meal comped or his drinks paid for if the employee or manager of the establishment was a fan.

“Thanks mate,” Pierre put his wallet away and grabbed the rum and coke.

The bartender only nodded his head towards the opposite end of the bar, “Don’t thank me. Thank her.”

Pierre’s smile dropped. If it was that blonde girl again trying another move he would feel bad because he’d just have to let her down a second time. Pierre took a sip of his drink before working up the courage to look towards the end of the bar.

But that blonde girl wasn’t there. In fact, no one on that side was even remotely paying him attention, all focused on their own drinks and conversations or trying to shout their orders to the bartenders.

Pierre didn’t let himself think too much about it.

Until he felt a tap on the back of his shoulder.

He sighed, “I already said I’m not looking for anything.”

Pierre turned around, fully expecting to come face to face with the girl from earlier. He was bracing himself for the tight dress, shy smile and long blonde hair.

What he didn’t expect was you.

Standing there wearing a baby pink long sleeve shirt with a neckline that showed off more cleavage than normal and a white skirt that sat high on your hips, giving you a very barbie-esque sort of feel, especially with the coloured heels to match. The lights from the club were flickering, highlighting the features that Pierre had burned into his mind. Your full lips, the small birthmarks you tried to hide with make up and your eyes that weren’t as important in colour as they were in the way that completely absorbed him.

You were standing right in front of him.

You glanced at the rum in coke in his hand, that familiar charming smile appearing on your lips as you darted your line of sight upwards to meet his own eyes.

“I owed you a drink,” you said, then you swallowed, eyebrows pinched together. “Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember.”

It was a cute call back to that night in the club, the first time you had given him more than just a friendly smile. He charmed his way in that night, and the rejection from Lando made it all the much easier to agree to leave with him, but you were thankful the night didn’t end with the two of you tangled between the sheets.

A relationship started that night. It started the second Pierre bought the drink for you, knowing he’d have an excuse to approach you later. Neither of you could have predicted how the next few weeks would follow.

Now here you were, after avoiding him for two months. And Pierre wasn’t one who often found himself speechless, but there were no words in any language that could describe how he was feeling.

He wanted to be happy to see you. He wanted to pick you up and spin you around and kiss you like no one was watching.

But the fact that you were in Abu Dhabi and he wasn’t the one who invited you, the door creaked opened for more insecurities to slide in.

If you weren’t there because of Pierre, you were there because of Lando.

Two Weeks Earlier

You flipped through a manila folder, slowly spinning back and forth in your chair. Recently you’ve been dedicating more time to your job and it was a helpful distraction. Most of your coworkers knew you had connections in the F1 world, but none of them knew what was going on behind the scenes.

And because this motorsport series was so popular, you found yourself walking in on various conversations. Someone asked for your input on the Circuit of the Americas and you said about five words before changing the topic. Someone else asked what your thoughts were on the unexpected Alpine podium and you just shrugged and smiled, saying something along the lines of it was well deserved. When another coworker asked about an incident Lando faced during the qualifying session in Mexico, you said that it probably wouldn’t affect his race and then you pulled out your phone to tune out the rest of what was being said.

You couldn’t escape these drivers, you couldn’t run from this sport. The most you could do was at least try and avoid the conversations about them.

But when your coworker, Sam, walked by your desk at the end of a work day, he did a double take and knocked on your cubicle wall.

“Hi,” you glanced up from the documents in your hand. “Heading out?”

“Yeah, but I meant to ask-” Sam looked over your head at the row of windows on the opposite side of your work station. “Since when does Lando Norris let you borrow his cars?”

You scoffed, “What the hell are you talking about?”

“There’s a McLaren 720S outside,” Sam pointed out. “Isn’t that what he drives?”

“I don’t know what Lando drives but I can assure you, that man wouldn’t let me behind the wheel of any of his cars,” you spun to face your computer, wanting this conversation to be over. You wished no one knew you were friends with him.

Sam didn’t leave though. Instead, he pulled his phone out of his back pocket. You could hear the keyboard sound effects as he furiously typed away before shoving his phone in your face. It took you a second to understand what you were looking at, but on the small screen was an image of Lando next to a blue McLaren 720s, a huge smile on his face.

“What am I supposed to do with this information?” you looked up at Sam.

“It’s the exact same car that’s outside.”

“Well I didn’t drive it.”

Sam’s eyes widened, “Is he here? Is he picking you up from work? Do you think I could-”

“Okay slow down,” you laughed, trying to make light of this situation but internally you were panicking. Was Lando here? In London? “I’m sure he’s not the only one who owns-”

You couldn’t finish your sentence. Not when the man of the hour himself came walking around the corner, being escorted by two other employees who were undoubtedly fans. Why else would they have let him into the employees only area? Lando wore a baggy jumper, his hands tucked into his pockets as he looked around with wide eyes until he finally spotted you.

Sam’s jaw dropped and you understood why. You never tried to hide your friendship with the driver, but him showing up at your place of work was not something that ever happened. And you couldn’t understand why it was happening now.

Lando’s feet shuffled against the floor. He thanked the two employees for showing them where you sat, but they didn’t return to their work, they just hovered a few feet away, curiosity getting the better of them.

He nodded at Sam, offering him a smile as well and when Sam glanced your way you nodded your head for him to get the hint, hoping he’d give you at least a bit of privacy. Sam cleared his throat, still starstruck, but he walked away, joining the other employees who stood near the corner.

Lando stepped into your cubicle and leaned against the desk. You weren’t a fan of the height difference and you didn’t want to feel as though he was talking down to you, so you stood up from your chair. You leaned against the wall opposite of him, making sure to keep as much room between you as possible.

“This part of the gallery usually isn’t open to visitors,” you pointed out, not even bothering with an actual greeting. You didn’t like that he used his status to enter this side of the building.

“Look I said I was fine waiting for you to get off work and they just-” Lando glanced over his shoulder and at once, the three coworkers of yours all scurried off in their own directions. Lando sighed and looked at you again, “I needed to talk to you.”

It had been just over two months since you last spoke. Since you left Monza without giving him an explanation. Since you stood in his driver's room and said ‘this ends here’. You were firm with that statement.

Lando respected that, for the most part. He gave you space. He didn’t call or text, even though Max told you that there were a handful of times when he almost did and he had to physically force the phone out of Lando’s hands.

But he should have waited until you decided you were ready to reach out again. He had no reason for showing up at your place of work.

Now that he was here, you felt so unprepared. You didn’t know what to say to him, you didn’t know what he was going to say. Usually you worked your way up to any difficult conversations but Lando showing up out of the blue completely blindsided you.

I needed to talk to you, he said. You hated that. The word need. Lando always needed something from you. He took so much. Your energy, your time, your love, and never gave any of it back and you put up with it for way too long. He didn’t have the right to need anything from you anymore.

“This couldn’t have waited?” You asked, gesturing to the work space around you. “Better yet, you couldn’t have waited until I wanted to talk?”

“No, because I was starting to get the feeling that time would never come.”

“So instead of respecting the space I asked for, you decided that what you wanted took priority?” You crossed your arms over your chest, “Do you sort of see how that’s not fair? How it’s selfish? Or have you just not learned anything in my absence?”

“I learned you don’t need me,” he shrugged his shoulders, as if that conclusion was one he could just brush off, like it still hasn’t fully resonated with him.

But it was a true statement. Your silence said it all.

Lando nodded slowly, “So you don’t- you don’t miss me at all?”

That’s where you still conflicted.

You did miss Lando, there was no denying that. He was your best friend, you shared hundreds of memories with him and it did feel like something was missing in your life these last few months.

But you needed him gone to get over him.

Being in love with him took so much out of you. Knowing that he didn’t, and never would, love you back was something you needed to accept and grow from. Taking this step back, you realised just how much of yourself you dedicated to Lando and to his life.

So you kept taking those steps back until he was no longer within reach. You needed to keep putting the distance between yourself and him. You needed to be your own person. You couldn’t just be Lando’s best friend anymore. As much as he wanted that, it wasn’t doing you any favours.

“Of course I missed you,” you dropped your head, jaw tightening for a second. “But I don’t love you anymore, Lando.”

Again, Lando nodded. If you were looking up, you would have seen the way his features softened, making him look so much younger than he actually was. He always had a boyish charm to him and when he was hurt or unsettled, those young mannerisms in him jumped out.

“Sort of feels like a break up,” Lando forced a smile on his face, as if it made this any easier.

But he was right. This was, in a sense, your relationship coming to an end. There was a dull ache in your chest as it hit, but deep down you had known this was coming for a while. The conversation, the confrontation and eventually, the conclusion.

You once loved Lando. How could you not?

You once loved everything about him. From his different types of laughs to the way you could tell his smiles apart better than he could. You supported him for years, you were his rock and one point, you thought that he was yours.

But he was a crutch. Something you could learn to live without. Something you didn’t need, but was too scared to give up.

He would always be someone you cared about, but his place in your life meant something different now. More importantly, you took away his ability to crush your heart in his hands without so much as a second thought.

You both noticed a few employees sliding on their jackets and heading for the door. Lando ran a hand through his hair before glancing at his watch, “Did you want a ride home?”

“No, I’m meeting a friend for dinner,” you denied his offer, but you noticed the way his eyebrows momentarily raised. You rolled your eyes, “It’s not a date if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“No I-” Lando stammered over his words. “I mean, it’s natural to be curious. But you’re allowed- obviously you can date whoever-”

“Lando,” you cut him off before he could say something stupid. He instantly closed his mouth and let you speak. “I’m going to walk you out, okay?”

And that was that. You grabbed your jacket and turned off your monitor. Lando grabbed your bag for you and waited until your coat was on before handing it over. The two of you walked side by side towards the doors of the gallery, elbows brushing occasionally.

As you stepped outside, you were thankful that the silence wasn’t heavy. There was nothing left for you to say and Lando knew he couldn’t change your mind. Your friendship, while not completely destroyed, was certainly tainted. The space between you might become less distant over time, but it was permanent.

You could still watch the races and support him, but on your own accord, the way you decided to. There would be no more McLaren paddock passes. There would be no more hanging out in his motorhome, you would just be a friend who could cheer him on from afar.

Sure enough, Lando’s McLaren was parked outside. You walked with him towards the driver's side door, but you weren’t surprised in the slightest when he made no effort to get in or say goodbye.

He inhaled a heavy breath and you just knew whatever words were to follow weren’t going to be good.

“What if things were different?”

You had spent so much wondering about the what if’s that hearing Lando ask it now was almost humorous.

“That’s a dangerous game, Lando.”

He leaned against the side of his car, “What is?”

“Asking what if.”

Lando chuckled, dipping his head momentarily. “It’s a genuine question, though. What if things were different?”

“But they’re not,” that was all you could say. It was the truth you accepted and now it was his turn to accept it as well. “Things will never be different. You don’t love me, you never loved me and that’s all I wanted from you. I can’t hold that against you and in return I need you to be okay with me taking a step back from your life.”

There were so many thoughts travelling behind those bright eyes of his, you could tell he was trying to figure out which one to land on.

You made it easier for him, “Why did you come here?”

That seemed to catch him off guard, “What do you mean?”

“Well I know you didn’t come here to ask me what if things were different so why are you here? I mean, you have two races left. You’ve gone this far without me. If you’re trying to pull some sort of grand gesture, could you not have at least waited until the end of the season?”

Lando hesitated before answering you, thinking of the right words first before just opening his mouth, “I won’t lie, Y/N, I wanted to see how you were doing. I think part of me expected you to come back or reach out and when you didn’t-” he shrugged, he always shrugged. “I just wanted to check in. No grand gesture, don’t worry. I know where you stand, but I’m allowed to still care about you.”

A gust of wind hit your back, blowing a few strands of hair in front of your face. It was early November, not an ideal time of the year to be standing outside and having a conversation, but this might be the last opportunity you two had to air things out.

So you sucked it up and dealt with the cold, shoving your hands in your pockets and watching as Lando licked his lips. He also avoided your eye contact, something he only did when he was nervous.

“I also want to apologise.”

Your eyebrow twitched, “For what?”

This man definitely owed you a few apologies, but you didn’t know what was going to come out of his mouth next.

“Everything, really,” Lando laughed softly and it almost made you smile in response. You were only human, you could miss his laugh.

You nudged your foot against his, “I’m going to need a little more than that.”

He finally looked at you. There was a time when his grey eyes would have floored you, but not anymore. You were still standing.

“Everything,” Lando repeated, quieter this time. “For taking you for granted. Your friendship, your support, everything you gave me. For not appreciating you how I should have. For leading you on. For getting in the way of you and Pierre. For not loving you the way you wanted me to- I could go on, Y/N, but I need you to know I’m truly sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed.”

Maybe he did learn something in your absence.

You didn’t know what to say. There were no words that could show your appreciation for his growth, for his ability to take responsibility and acknowledge what went wrong.

So instead of trying to rely on words, you stepped forward and wrapped your arms around him. Lando hesitated, unsure if he was even allowed to hug you back before slowly raising his arms and snaking them around your waist.

He knew this would be the last time he’d get to hold you like this.

You knew this would be the last time you’d ever allow yourself to be this close to him.

So there was no hurry to pull away. You could feel Lando’s heartbeat against his chest, his body heat pulling you in like a moth to a flame, his heavy breath as his face dipped right next to yours.

You held each other for a minute, maybe two. No more words were exchanged, but you and Lando had a bond that couldn't be described by anything the English dictionary had to offer.

Even in these uncertain times, you could count on his embrace to make the world around you freeze. You both had your own problems, your own reasons for needing space from each other but in his arms, they didn’t matter. You felt safe, comforted, this was the Lando that you had loved and it was hard to believe you weren’t going to have this anymore.

And then it was like Lando knew he had to be the one to let go. He had to be the one to release you, to stop giving you a reason to hold on.

He dropped his arms, both of you deciding not to speak about how painful this was, but your staggered inhale of a breath said it all. The way he sniffed and rubbed the back of his neck told you that this wasn’t any easier for him than it was for you.

For a brief second, you were almost crazy enough to apologise. It always hurt you to see Lando struggling, but your absence was something he was going to have to learn to live with. You didn’t need to apologise for it, for trying to better yourself.

“There is, actually, one more thing,” Lando suddenly said, reaching for the handle of the door, propping it open. You watched as the door to his luxury car swung upwards instead of out as Lando reached inside and grabbed an envelope. When he turned back around and handed it over, it was impossible to tell what it was.

Lando didn’t say anything as you opened it. His lips curled upwards when the realisation of what was inside slowly hit you.

“A Paddock pass,” you swallowed, recognising the lanyard.

“And plane tickets,” he added. “And a hotel booking. For Abu Dhabi.”

“The last race.”

“You should be there,” he said, taking in a sharp breath. His shoulders tensed, like he was suddenly debating if this was the best idea.

“Lando I can’t hang out in McLaren,” you sighed, wondering if the last five minutes of your conversation had already escaped him.

“No, you should be there for you,” Lando clarified. “You love the sport, Y/N, you’ve always attended the last race of the season. That shouldn’t change.”

You pulled the pass out of the envelope and twirled it around your fingers. The bright font of Abu Dhabi Grand Prix stood out along the black and you had to admit, it was a kind gesture, a selfless one for a change.

“You should be there,” Lando repeated. “And I’m not the only one who thinks that.”

Your eyebrows pinched together as you looked up at him again, dropping the pass into the envelope. “What do you mean?”

This man actually had the audacity to look at you like you were stupid.

“Oh come on Y/N,” a chuckle passed through his lips. “Pierre?”

You hesitated, “What about him?”

“He wants you there.”

“We haven’t spoken in weeks.”

“He still wants you there.” Lando shook his head, putting a stop to your doubts before they could creep up. “He’s just got more restraint than me and isn’t about to reach out or make you feel like you have to be there.”

You shrugged your shoulders. There was no question about it, you missed Pierre, but you were the one who ended things with him. You weren’t sure if you had the right to go back to him now and ask for a fresh start.

“Think about it, okay?” Lando extended his hand to give your arm an encouraging pat. He then made the move to get into his car and you took a step back to give him space. His eyes raked over you once more, probably wondering if this was the last time he would see you in the next little while, but he didn’t comment on it. He chose not to acknowledge it either, instead saying a quiet, “See you later,” and hoping those words would come true.

You had a few weeks to decide if you wanted to attend the last race of the season. You wanted to be strong and stay home. You nearly ripped the tickets up at one point, thinking it would make the decision easier, but everything was digital nowadays so it wasn't like that gesture mattered.

You wanted to watch the race. You wanted to cheer on your favourite drivers. You wanted to see Pierre.

And eventually it was your desire for all of those things that overpowered the distance you knew was better for you.

So you found yourself in Abu Dhabi that last weekend in November. You walked into the paddock when you knew the drivers would be busy with their teams and headed straight for the Paddock Club, choosing to watch the race from there. You kept your sunglasses on and made yourself as unapproachable as possible as you silently watched and rooted for the French driver.

When word got out of a few drivers heading to a specific nightclub, you knew that would be your chance to talk to Pierre. After the race and before he got drunk.

You weren’t even sure what you were going to say. Lando said he would want you to be there, but you still had your fears. You had called things off and there was no guarantee that he would want to pick things back up, that he would be so open to letting you back into his life.

When he ordered a drink, you saw it as an opportunity. When the bartender was near you, you quickly paid for Pierre’s rum and coke. He didn’t question it and neither did Pierre.

You walked around the side of the bartop, behind all of the other patrons and watched as Pierre tried to look for who had paid for his drink. You thought about saying his name to get his attention, you even thought about just walking away because was this really a good idea? But when his back was towards you, something in you pulled you forward, just enough so you could tap on his shoulder.

He turned around, wearing an expression you couldn't quite read. Maybe this was a bad idea.

“I owed you a drink,” you blurted out, thinking of the first night you finally decided to give him more than thirty seconds of your time.

Pierre had approached you in the bar and bought your drink, telling him that you could thank him later. His words were laced with dirty intent, and while you were nowhere near as charming as Pierre was, you still tried.

“Or maybe I just owed you a thank you, I couldn’t remember,” you quickly added.

Pierre was silent for a few seconds, mouth slightly agape. He certainly hadn’t expected you to show up and now he was speechless. There had been hundreds of things he wanted to say to you over the course of the last few weeks but for the life of him, none of them came to mind.

You had no choice but to take control of the conversation for a change, “It was a good race. Good job. A top ten finish, and you beat the McLarens that must-

“You watched?” Pierre asked. He hadn’t meant to cut you off but he was still trying to process that you were actually right there and now to find out you were also in the audience watching? He was about to implode.

“Of course,” you nodded. Someone tried to step past you so you moved closer to Pierre to make room. And it was like nothing had changed, Pierre raised his hand to rest on your waist, automatically feeling that urge to reach for you, to be touching you.

He quickly put the drink down on the bartop, he had no desire for it anymore. The absolute last thing he wanted to do right now was get drunk.

With his other hand free, Pierre raised it to cup the side of your face. He tucked a few strands of hair behind your ear, his thumb tracing over your cheek. You were really there.

“Chérie,” he spoke so quietly, his voice almost drowned out by the music playing from the speakers around you. But you watched his lips as he spoke, taking in every word, every breath. “You don’t know how bad I missed you.”

That was a weight lifted off your shoulders. Lando was right, Pierre did want you there.

And you could have said you missed him too. You could have laughed it off and teased him for it. You could have rolled your eyes, something he was all too familiar with seeing.

But instead of doing any of that, you grabbed hold of the collar of his shirt and closed the last bit of space between you. You kissed him like you were making up for lost time, you basically were. Pierre’s hand slid to rest where your neck met your jaw and there was a desire to rush, to taste every bit of his tongue against yours, to let him intoxicate all of your senses, but Pierre’s moves were slow. He wanted to take his time, relish in this moment and to keep you in his grasp for as long as he could, until you were both desperate for a breath.

Pierre pressed another kiss to your lips, and then another, and another and then to your cheeks and your forehead and every visible spot on your face that he thought needed some attention. You giggled like a schoolgirl as his arm slipped around your neck, pulling you tight into his chest to hold you, hug you, feel you in his arms.

“I missed you,” Pierre said again, still quiet but there was no underlying ache in his tone. He missed you, but he didn’t have to anymore. You weren’t going anywhere.

Neither of you cared that you were sharing this embrace in the middle of the club, but other people certainly didn’t like it. When someone made a playful 'get a room' comment, Pierre laughed into your ear. God you never wanted to go two months without hearing his laughter ever again.

“Let’s get out of here,” Pierre suggested, placing his forefinger under your chin to tilt your face up. He kissed you again, his hand slipping into yours before turning around, his eyes set on the door. You happily followed.

The club was crowded. You recognized a few paddock employees and members from various teams and of course the drivers who were out partying, but everyone was in their own little world as the two of you walked past.

Well…

Not everyone.

It happened so fast. You turned your head at the right second and caught Lando’s eyes from where he sat in a booth. Not only was he watching you, he was watching you leave with Pierre.

Someone walked in front of you, cutting off your line of sight for a brief moment. You felt Pierre’s grip on your hand tighten. Looking up, and saw that Pierre was staring straight ahead. If he noticed Lando, he didn’t hint towards it.

Glancing back at Lando one last time, you watched as he lifted the drink in his hand and nodded once, a toast-like gesture, but in this case it was so much more than a little congratulatory one-sided cheers.

He released his final hold over you. There were no more strings tying you to Lando. He wasn’t going to get in between you and Pierre. He was going to let you be happy with the French driver.

Lando would still continue to want what was best for you, but that wasn’t him anymore. That was Pierre.

So he watched as a sliver of a smile appeared on your lips, so quick he almost missed it, before following Pierre outside. You were gone.

Feeling a nudge on his arm, Lando turned his head and met the concerned eyes of Max. Max, someone who had been a witness to everything these last few months, was definitely happy to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

“You alright?” Max asked him and Lando just nodded, glancing at the spot you just abandoned.

“Yeah,” he didn’t sound very convincing, but Max knew that eventually he’d say it and mean it.

He brought his drink up to his lips, “I guess the best man won.”

Lando rolled his eyes, shoving Max with his elbow. Not hard enough to hurt him but enough that he spilled his beer over the front of his shirt.

“It was never a competition you numbskull.”

Max plastered his best dumbfounded look on his face, “Oh, you mean Y/N? I’m not talking about her. I’m talking about the driver standings.”

Lando snorted, knowing that Max was most definitely not talking about the driver standings, but it was a good retort to fall back on. Pierre had beat him in the last two races, putting him ahead of the two McLaren drivers in the championship.

Lando put up a good fight throughout the season but towards the end he managed to come to the realisation that no matter what, he wouldn’t pull ahead. Beating Pierre wasn’t in his cards.

Neither was keeping you.

But not all hope was lost. Lando would fight even harder next year. This year’s competition made him a better driver. And motorsport aside, he knew he’d still see you around. At a distance, only in passing, and most likely with Pierre, but you’d be there.

Losing you forced him to grow up. He had no choice but to better himself, and he would.

The what if’s would continue to haunt him, they would haunt all of you. The ghosts of what could have been. The paths you never took. What if Pierre hadn’t hit on you that night in the club? What if Lando spoke to you the morning after? What if you spent the summer break alone? What if what if what if.

The thing was, though, none of it mattered.

You were happy. Lando would learn to live without you. Pierre played the long game and it worked out in his favour. The lingering questions didn’t matter. The only thing left to do was look ahead. The past held nothing, whereas your future, all of your futures, were brighter and better than they had ever been before.

why am i crying lmao

and with that, the better series comes to an end :') thank you everyone for reading and for sharing your thoughts and being so invested in their silly little lives.

i will most definitely be writing another mini series, and if you have ideas or see something on my prompt list, pls send me a request here! i can't promise it'll turn into a 7-part fic but i do love getting requests and who knows?? maybe i'll write a lando fic and turn u all back into lando girlies??

love u all so much and for the record, i was always team pierre

#pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly x y/n #pierre gasly #lando norris one shot #lando norris social media au #lando norris au #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 one shot #f1 requests #f1 au #formula 1 #holllandtrash

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