#bye this took so long to write sorry

[marcelineuntitled]

fanart for This Is Not The End by @kings-highway

potentially my favourite fic ever!! <3

[sunfloweraro]

I am asking about your book!

I love your fic writing, so I’m very excited about the prospect of a book!

What’s the plot? Who are the main characters? Any fun lore details you’re bursting to share?

(Also November in Australia is evil, I’m dying, how are you holding up?)

YES okay so:

The plot:

Edwin, heir to the throne and very-soon-to-be king, is sent on a quest by his father to prove himself a worthy future king: he must journey far to the west of the kingdom and defeat a terrible evil threatening the kingdom. With the help of Meghan, a royal knight in training, Atla, a physician, and Soarn, an archer, he sets out on this quest, but the longer they travel together, the harder it becomes to keep secrets hidden. And when they finally reach the end of their journey, they discover this great evil isn’t all that it seems—and neither is the king.

The characters (AKA more detail of the above):

Edwin:

- my prince character! He’s 19, almost 20

- Speaks relatively ‘proper’ initially, until the others infect him with their speech patterns

- autistic

- Disabled, but no one except his immediate family know of it. There was an accident when he was 7 which wound up with his leg being crushed by a statue, and even though he’s healed now, it’s permanently weakened and causes him pain, either from flare ups or when he uses it too much (or both!) He blames himself for the accident.

- Best (and only) friend is Meghan. They’ve known each other since they were 4-5 and are extremely close. No romance between them, although Edwin had a little crush on her when they were very, very young, before he found out she doesn’t like men. They laugh about it now.

- Related to the above note: he also gets very jealous when Meghan is with her other friends. His father never allowed him to make other friends—Meghan pushed her way into his life anyway.

- Terrible at taking care of himself. Forgets to eat/sleep a lot

- Does not have a good relationship with either of his parents, but he is desperate to make his father proud, hence why he so readily accepted this quest.

- Used to have an older brother. When a prince from a neighbouring kingdom visited, he and Edwin hit it off quickly. Edwin snuck him into his rooms to keep playing, and when he fell asleep, the other prince stole his master keys, snuck into his brother’s room, and smothered him with a pillow. No one ever believed Edwin when he tried to share the truth. He very much blames himself for his brother’s death.

- Cannot fight for the life of him. Uses a dagger for self-preservation, but again, not good at wielding it

Meghan:

- My royal-knight-in-training character! 19 years old.

- Best friends with both Edwin and Atla

- Comes from a family of scholars. Her parents have aided the king many times and her mother is one of his trusted advisors. She was expected to follow in her parents footsteps, but she prefers to protect from the front lines, and pushed to get into knight training. Her parents do not approve of this

- A handful of months before the book starts, she ran away from home due to her parents attempting to tear her away from her training. They had a fight, and she never went home. She lives on the streets and can’t bring herself to tell Edwin when he’s already got so much on his plate

- Silly, smart and strong, she’s determined to enter into the royal guard and keep Edwin safe when he ascends. She worries about him a lot. She’s also very soft!

- Butch lesbian

- Determined to protect others to the point of self-sacrifice, and is not kind to herself when she fails (which comes from her parents never accepting this choice of hers)

- She tends to have trouble listening to others—once she sets her mind on something, that’s how they’re doing it. This causes issues between herself and Edwin later on, as well as with Atla.

- Miiiight get a teeny crush on Soarn, until she realises the other girl is aroace. (Edwin has the same issue, and they both laugh about it together)

- Fights with a sword primarily, but can use anything as a weapon in a pinch

Atla:

- My physician character! Their age is… ahem. Technically 18, but their body has been in the world for over 300 years. I will elaborate below.

- They’ve been training under the head physician since they were 13, and excelled to the point where they are now one of her assistants. Very useful on this quest.

- Nonbinary!

- They have godly heritage on their mother’s side, giving them golden eyes, hair, and two golden wings upon their back at birth. They were a cherished secret in their village, bringing good luck and always eager to help their community. They took to healing quickly, using magic granted to them from their godly wings to mend broken bones and nasty gashes. However, a terrible man found out about them and moved to the village, befriending them swiftly. They played together in the forest often, until one day, the man led them into the forest and tore their wings from their back. He then buried them alive to get rid of the evidence and used the magic from the wings to trick the kingdom into accepting him as their leader. He also uses the feathers from the wings to stay alive for far longer than any human should

- 300 years later, the gods bring Atla back to life, feeling their unfortunate ending was unjust, and Atla is deadset on revenge, but they have no way to get close to the man who killed them… until this quest is shared with them, five years after they were brought back to life

- Their wings were not brought back with them, and they now have chronic back pain where their wings used to be

- They were taken in by two loving mothers into a massive family, and they love their mamas, but… they miss their first family, and their village. But that’s all long gone now

- Best friends with Meghan, and would kill for her if need be (“I’m a healer, but—“)

- Can speak to animals. No one else knows this yet

- The cook of the group! They cook a lot of old family recipes to help themself feel close to the family they will never see again

- Fights with a hammer! A lot of rage piled up within them from their unjust death and then consequential revival.

- Has… ulterior motives for being on this quest.

Soarn:

- My archer character! She’s 17, almost 18

- Transfem! and aroace!

- She is a Desikah (a race of magical folks in my book who look similar to humans for the most part, but also… a little off. They each drift toward a certain type of magic at birth (fire, water, earth, shadow or light) and very few may wield two kinds of magic. Soarn herself is an earth- and light-type Desikah. The Desikah are very much hated due to a terrible reputation built up by the king (and maintained using magic) and hunted if they are ever caught. But they’re actually a very peaceful group, who care deeply for the world around them and everyone and everything in it.)

- No one but her father (human) knows she is a Desikah (from her mother’s side) and she will not tell anyone for fear of being slaughtered

- Has an animal friend! Her name is Maipa, and she is a Felivus (think, a cat with the back legs and wings of a raven), a magical race of creatures known for their healing abilities and intelligence. (She and Atla talk a lot). Soarn saved Maipa when she was just a kit, mending her broken wing, and Maipa imprinted on her and will stay with her through thick and thin, until death

- Her mother passed away when she was young, and her father is very cold towards her. He taught her how to hunt, however, and she wields her bow expertly, her connection to the earth aiding her in shooting true and striking her prey every time.

- She joins the quest later on, saving Edwin from a blow from a bandit that would have ended his life. She and Edwin do not hit it off well initially (entirely on Edwin’s part) but they both have terrible fathers, and they bond over that.

- She does not have a lot of self-worth initially, due to her father and the terrible community she grew up in. (the others will bash self-worth into her eventually).

Fun lore details:

OKAY SO. The king is clearly a terrible man, but it’s much worse than you think. Hundreds of different races of magical creatures used to roam the land, until the king used the magic in the feathers of Atla’s wings to cast a massive spell upon all humans in his land—one that imbued a deep hatred and distrust in any magic. The creatures were hunted nearly to extinction and banished from the lands. Why did the king do this? He felt magic of any kind was a threat to him and his rule, and he is very much a power-hungry, evil man.

Some magical creatures still live in the kingdom, one most humans don’t know of at all (Atla knew of Felivi as they were around when they were first alive). But most have been forced to other kingdoms, or into hiding—there is an underground community of thousands, hidden away beneath the desert, that the king has no idea of. And they would all love to get revenge on the man who forced them out of their homes :)

(And thank you for asking! November has been MISERABLE. We’ve been hopping between wet and freezing, and then scorching hot and humid T.T I, naturally, have come down with a cold because of the jump in temps. Hoping you’re handling it better!)

[dagaan]

The next chapter (10) of The Eel is done! You can give it a looksee over here if you want.

[dragooned-speaks]

A Little Yokudlala

Cw: Suicidal Thoughts, Jail, Death, Murdering on and off screen, idk, tell me the rest.

“Keke!”

“Lala? You good?”

“Yeah, but it’s time for lunch.”

A light chuckle came from the one dubbed “Keke”.

“You’re always hungry, aren’t you?”

“Yep!”

“All right, let’s go.”

As Keira and Eleanor walked towards the cafeteria, a guy blocked their way. Unknowingly, he set his fate in stone. Nobody stops Keira from letting her Yokudlala eat her lunch.

“Hey.”

“Hi?”

“You single?”

“Uhh- yes?”

“You owe me my lunch.”

“Pardon?”

“When I saw you, I dropped it.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, but I’ve got to go. Also, aren’t you in line for lunch?”

“Wait- do you have a name, or can I just call you mine?”

“Don’t call her at all, you creep.” Keira butts in.

He glares and all his muscles tensed- which was absolutely disgusting. Why he would do that, Eleanor doesn’t know, but she knows Keira’s right. She’s always right.

“Come on, Lala. Let’s go,” Keira waved.

“Ok, Keke!”

“Wait! Are you free tonight?”

“Sorry!” Keira calls back. “We’re hanging out! Girl time and all!”

“Then tomorrow!”

“We’re busy forever!”

“Don’t worry, Eleanor, I’ll wait for forever if I have to! Ask for Morsimmos- but call me Momo!”

“What a creep,” Keira whispered to Eleanor.

“A bit, I guess.” Eleanor whispered back. “Thank you for helping me.”

Keira asked, “Do I have to thank you for saving me?”

“I guess not..” Eleanor murmured as they sat at a table in the corner.

”Exactly,” Keira shrugged.

“Well, I should do it anyways.” Eleanor pointed out. “It’s polite.”

“K, let’s talk about this later than. How about we actually start lunch then, Yokudlala?” Keira joked.

She wasn’t joking. Keira never joked with Eleanor’s full nickname.

“K, Keke.” Eleanor said quietly.

“Alright then.” Keira clapped, as if her decision cemented it. “Let’s have lunch.”

They did indeed have lunch. Eleanor with a nice and simple peanut butter and jelly sandwich, or pb&j with a carton of strawberry milk. Keira, on the other hand, pulled out a small hare and a knife, and carefully began skinning it.

Eleanor didn’t bat an eye at the gory sight that other students gawked at, because you get used to these things if you’re friends with Keira for over a year. Carefully, Keira peeled the flesh off the bones, and brought a lighter to the bones in question, and the sparks caught on. Slowly, the bones blackened as tongues of fire licked at the smooth, ivory surface, gradually corroding it into an ashy gray.

Over the fire of burnt bones, Keira slowly turned the rabbit flesh to fully cook it.

As they finish up eating, Keira asks, “Lala, would you like me to dispose of your trash?”

Eleanor stops chewing her food and thinks about it slowly.

“Nah, it’s fine,” she replies after swallowing her food, “There’s a trash can nearby.”

“Your choice,” Keira shrugs, dropping the rest of her rabbit flesh into the smoldering fire. “Then I’ll see you in the spot in five minutes. Deal?”

“Deal,” Eleanor agrees.

“All right, then,” Keira says. “See you soon, Lala.”

“You too, Keke.”

As Keira walks away, Eleanor spots her talking to Morsimmos, the two having a very intense conversation by the looks of it. What with all the violent expressions and exaggerated hand gestures.

Under the tree, Lala waited. As she stretched along the shade of the yew, she saw Keke walking towards her. Quickly, Lala sat up and patted the spot next to her as a clear invitation to sit down.

“So, we’re spending the last three minutes of lunch under a tree?” Keke joked.

“Why not?” Lala shrugged. “It’s nice here.”

Keke rolled her eyes.

“You’ll get a sunburn, silly.”

“But I’m in the shade?”

“Sun’s everywhere. Like me.” Keke joked.

Lala laughed. “That’s true for sure.”

After that, everything was a peaceful silence as two friends sat side by side, happy and full. Especially because it was lunchtime and there were no classes to stress about. Alas, good things cannot last forever.

“So, Keke?” Lala starts. “What were you talking to Morsimmos about?”

“Oh, nothing,” Keke hummed. “Just told him to buzz off and leave you well enough alone.”

“But what about you?” Lala asks. “What if he bugs you instead?”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Keke laughed, “I can handle him.”

“Are you sure, though, Keke? I don’t want him to bug you,” Lala said.

“It’s fine, really,” Keke giggles. “Don’t worry yourself, my silly little Yokudlala.”

“Ok,” Lala agrees quietly.

A silence ensues, until a certain Eleanor broke it.

“Keke?”

“Hmm?”

“Will you always be there for me?”

“Depends. Will you have me?”

“Of course! Where would I be without you?”

“That’s nice to hear. Especially because if you said no, I’d become your first stalker.”

Both friends laughed as they talked in the shade of their favorite tree, the young, spry yew. If only they knew of what was approaching. If only.

“BREAKING NEWS.”

“Dad?” Eleanor asked.

“Yes, my little honeybun?”

Exasperated, Eleanor rolled her eyes, but her smile convinced her dad otherwise.

“Do you mind turning the volume down a little? It’s a little distracting.”

“Of course,” he cooed. “Anything for my special girl.”

Laughing, Eleanor turned back towards cooking the eggs and ensuring they wouldn’t eat burned eggs tonight.

“Today, a dead body has been found.”

Immediately, Eleanor snapped her neck towards the TV.

“Dad?” She asked once more.

“Yes, sunshine?” He asked, eyes transfixed to the screen.

“Mind if I watch after finishing dinner? It sounds… interesting.”

“Of course, baby girl.”

After checking the eggs were, in fact, unburnt, Eleanor flipped the sunny eggs onto a plate, but the yolk seemed to go splat against the hard porcelain.

“Dad?” Eleanor whispered.

“What is it, sweet pea?” He whispered back.

“You don’t mind the broken yolk, right?”

Her dad let out a small groan at this.

“I can- remake it if you’d like,” she murmured, eyes downcast.

“No, no,” he rushed. “It’s fine.”

So, together they sat down, and they ate their egg together watching news about what happened at Chestnutter. More specifically, Chestnutter Middle School, the very school Eleanor attended.

“Eleanor,” her dad mumbled, mouth full of egg. “Isn’t that your school?”

“Yeah,” she answered, eyes fixated on the pixelated woman’s face.

“Ladies and gentlemen, there has been a dead body found in a Chestnutter Middle School cafeteria trashcan. Not much is known about this crime, nor the murderer, but the victim seems to be a boy named Morsimmos Medali, known for his rizzing of people around the school. Strangely enough, he seems to have been stabbed with a charred bone of what appears to be a deceased rabbit. Even more stra-“

The TV cuts off as Eleanor’s trembling hand raised towards, it, confused whether the signal went out or not.

“You shouldn’t see things like this,” was all Eleanor’s dad stated, starting to stand up. “We’re moving schools. And, dear, can you do the dishes tonight?”

That wasn’t a question, Eleanor knew. It was a demand she should fulfill. She of all people should know this.

After all, she’s been doing this since her mom died.

“What do you mean I’m moving schools?” she inquired.

“It isn’t safe my little angel,” he stated once more. “Murderers are nothing to laugh at. I can’t lose someone else.”

With that, he left, leaving Eleanor alone for what seemed to be what had happened for as long as she could remember. Really, she missed being with Keke, after all, she’s more than Eleanor with her. Though, she must admit, new people are stupid.

She stands up, moving towards the sink with the now empty dish with the remnants of oozed, uncooked yolk stuck on the porcelain surface. Really, she must talk to Keke about this. After all, murdering humans are much worse than creeping them out with gored rabbits.

“This isn’t going to go well,” Eleanor sighed, and perhaps that was true.

Especially if you consider an outraged Keke bad.

“You’re what?!” She exploded, outraged at what happened. “One little murdering on the school and suddenly you’re leaving me? Why?!”

“It’s not me,” Lala tried to explain. “It’s my dad, he wants me to-“

“Well, I don’t care!” Keke snapped. “All I want is my little Yokudlala, and now you’re taking her away!”

Stinging pain pierced Lala’s heart at those words, and she stuttered, “I’m- I’m sorry, Keke, but I-“

“My little Yokudlala, what’s one less person on the face of the earth anyway?” She bargained.

“A lot, apparently, but I don’t really get it,” Lala shrugged.

“Exactly! Guilt is a mechanism used to control people. It’s an illusion, and it’s a social control mechanism and very unhealthy. It does terrible things to our body, and we should ignore it!”

“Keke, I don’t feel guilty,” Lala stared. “My dad just doesn’t want me to die. I’m all he has left after my mom-“

“Well I don’t care!” Keke exploded once more. “I just want my little Yokudlala to stay with me forever!”

Silence echoed after the explosive statement.

“I’m- I’m really sorry, Keke,” Lala apologized.

“No, it’s fine,” Keke reassured after taking many deep breaths.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Keke said, manic light in her eyes. “If you can’t stay, I’ll make sure you do.”

Rushing forward, she grabbed Lala, and pinned her struggling Yokudlala against the school lockers, and muffled her desperate cries by shoving her elbow into her squirming friend.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way, my little Yokudlala,” Keke whispered, pressing a switchblade against Lala’s throat as she went still with tears flowing down her face. “I’m really sorry.”

Suddenly, Eleanor bit Keke, and threw her off, successfully disarming her master, and pointed Keke’s switchblade at its master, her own master. Breathing heavily, she scooted closer.

“You know,” she whispered in her wide-eyed master’s ear. “I’ve never really been a nicknames person. After all, what’s one less person on the face of this earth anyway, right?”

Before she could think, the toy drove the blade into the master’s throat, and that’s the moment news reporters walked in.

“And here we will- oh! Who’s this? Been a little naughty girl, I see,” she said, waggling her finger in Eleanor’s direction. “Better call some people up. You, little girl, will be in the headlines.”

Eleanor stood shocked at the blood staining her hands- and soul. Maybe guilt really was just an social control illusion. Maybe Keke was right.

All she remembers are blurred flashes of police, shocked bystanders, and the betrayed face of her father.

“Is it true you murdered someone?” She vaguely remembers someone asking.

“Only my master, only that one,” she had answered.

She’d been placed in a high security cell nonetheless with a life sentence in the miserable place. The food was soggy, the shower cold and leaky, and the toilet an entirely different monster within itself. However, Eleanor didn’t seem to notice.

When she was gone, we found a small journal that had somehow bypassed our security, words blotchy and nearly ineligible. However, after some decoding, it was translated into a neater print, and it was kept in the government for some time. After all, how dangerous could it be if it was the diary of a killer.

However, with all the government’s security, there was a leak, and some paragraphs were printed in papers all around Chestnutter.

Hello, Diary.

My new friend. Or, at least, my only one now. I don’t know what to think anymore.

She isn’t who I thought she was. Oh, do I wish to put a label to these things swirling inside of me. I wish I didn’t know of the blood splattered on my soul.

I’m here for the wrong reason, but I still deserve to be locked up for what I did. I miss my master. Keke, you were right.

Life is so cruel, and Keke so kind. Guilt is unhealthy, isn’t it? Where are you, Keke?

You told me you would stay as long as I’d have you. I need you more than ever now. Even if I spend hours on this journal, it doesn’t matter.

After all, I have all the time in the world. I just wish I didn’t. Every day, I can feel myself be more and more tired of what humans say to love and treasure, life, and I dread each and every day, each being more of a hurdle than the last.

When my father named me, I was told my name means light. What if I shouldn’t be here? She was about to kill me.

One way or another, I’m here now, and I’m ready to leave. Light can give life, but without a source, it will drown in the darkness, and be snuffed out. I think that’s happening to me.

A few days later, another entry was written.

Diary,

I just- I don’t want to live anymore. It’s so terrible, this stabbing feeling of guilt. I could just die.

I don’t know what to think anymore. I miss my master, my owner, my- my friend. Or, at least, I think she was.

But she’s not my friend, is she? She was a liar, a snake, a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but she was mine. And I was her’s.

I miss her sheep’s clothing before she revealed her wolfishness. I have all the time in the world to tick away, doing nothing, something I have wished for years. Now, I don’t want it; just want to push it away and refuse this unwanted gift life has given to me so cruelly.

I can’t do anything about it, though. So, I just keep roaming around this room that’s my limbo. Soon, I hope, it’ll look different.

The next following day, Eleanor’s dead body was found, hole in her heart, gunpowder sprinkled on her hands. Her death was marked as suicide. When they burned her to cremate her, however, for her good behavior, it is sworn by onlookers they could practically hear a sigh vibrate through the air and a pale figure whisk into the air, free for the first time in years.

[todayisafridaynight]

To Be Abnormal for a second Every Frame A Painting If Jo Is In It right... an exquisite top pick... his attitude and body language are So Cunty when he's in control of a situation... he's just very fun to watch and the Context that the cap is part such a sequence and what comes before and after elevates it...

Plus the lighting and color grading in the office is very suited to Jo's design with the purple and pink undertones, and the general framing/negative space/value distribution in that particular shot is Just Good; the blinds also make for a nice backdrop and the way he casts this really soft shadow behind him does a lot to make him subtly stand out from the background... ALSO I love the detail of the blinds being Kind Of Fucked Up In Places like he put his hands on them with a little too much force at some point and [being dragged away to be institutionalized]

BUT YEAH NO I DELETED THE POST BUT I DEFINITELY. HAD SOME THOUGHTS. AS YOU CAN SEE.

It's not JUST that it's A Disservice To Mr. Tsutsumi it's that... as I was sort of talking about at the stream with young [i.e. eighties] Jo although I didn't elaborate... this and some other decisions age him so much. Like, when Tsutsumi was actually around that age, he looked like this. A Baby.

And I just think... NOT having that wide-eyed innocence isn't as fitting. It's like buying into Jo's Belief that he's all-grown-up when really he's still got the mentality and coping mechanisms of a child at fifteen and hangs onto a great deal of it well into adulthood... I think it was important to give him a face people'd instantly want to protect to place visual emphasis on the enormity of everything going on in Jo's monologue.

Would also apply to what you were talking about in the MineDai-AraSawa comparison ask, how Arakawa might feel extra-concerned for him because he's younger [I can't say much because my age gap with most of my friends is big anyway, but I frequently see my friends in their mid-twenties or later feel that way with their friends in their early-twenties]

Like it's THERE I just want it to be there visually... in a visual medium... in the ONLY visual medium where de-aging someone with 100% accuracy would be possible... is that so much to ask...

HIS CUNTINESS YEAH that's the way to put it (❁´◡`❁) tbf i color corrected the scene Just A Little since the cap i had was just Weirdly Dark BUT the colors ARE still there.... his suit and overall character does just Pop against how white/grey everything is around him

AND YEAYEA THE FACT HIS BLINDS ARE A LITTLE BENT IN SOME PLACES it's a tiny detail but it's one of my favorite things i noticed- i didnt think it was worth mentioning but im glad you noticed it too (╯▽╰ )

BUT BEHIND THE LORE REASONS™️ TO NERF TTM'S LIPS YEAH lowkey that's how ive forever chosen to interpret jo's flashbacks and why he seems so much older in them (Alongside with arakawa sounding older than he reasonably should at that point BUT ig you can make a case of The Yakuza Aging Someone idk not the main point). i think rgg just knew that if they kept ttm's natural lips i wasn't going to take sawashiro seriously for any longer than five seconds before being wholeheartedly distracted.. (￣人￣)

[fightwing]

❝ why don’t you get a real job? ❞ / @lightningstruck

nightwing gave that a look -- mostly amused with just a touch of good-hearted surprise. over the years he'd considered a uh--- career change many times, but rarely had it suggested towards him when not taking up space in some version of a med bay. ultimately, though, fair enough. it's not like this was a paid gig and certainly not like dick had any meaningful means of income other than the small acrobatics gym he ran when he wasn't licking his wounds from whatever his NIGHTTIME job gave him. " any suggestions? " considering they were in the middle of an active fight and he'd only tackled her to get her out of the way of the debris, the opportunity for chit-chatting was minimal but well, nightwing was nothing if not opportunistic. he uses the nearest pole to vault himself at the chest of an incoming assailant, breathy from exertion when he adds " i don't have a lot of transferable skills. "

[estrellami-1]

How Steve Harrington Gets a Family

The first time it happened, Steve didn’t remember. He had no idea why Hopper was acting so weird until Joyce took him aside, sighing softly.

“Oh, honey,” she murmurs. “You don’t remember, do you?”

He frowns at her. “Remember what?”

“You called him dad, Steve.”

“I-” he gapes. “What?”

It goes like this.

He’d been hospitalized, after the Russians; he doesn’t know all the details, won’t for years, but Hopper had escaped from the reactor, thrown his weight—and title—around until someone had put Steve in a room, in a bed, gotten an IV into him, run whatever tests doctors run.

He was delirious with the truth serum still in his system and the adrenaline wearing off, groaning in pain and mumbling nonsense.

Hopper had put a hand on his head, said, “I’ve got you, Steve. You’re safe. It’s okay.”

“Dad,” Steve had mumbled, shifting into Hopper’s hand, and promptly passed out.

“Oh,” Steve whispers after Joyce tells him. He runs a hand through his hair. “Well, no shit he’s been acting weird, I mean why would he want me as a kid- shit, I need to apologize-” 

“Whoa,” Joyce says seriously, hands on his shoulders. “Slow down, Steve. You know Hopper loves you, right?”

Steve bites his lip on the snark that wants to come out, instead choosing to just blink at her.

“Christ,” Joyce laments, “I’m going back to school, everyone need so much damn therapy.” She takes a breath and looks Steve in the eye. “Hopper loves you, Steve. He’s considered you his kid for a long time now.”

Steve gapes at her. “No he hasn’t!”

Joyce raises a brow. “Uh-huh. And how many parties has he busted, exactly? And how many marks do you have on your record?”

Steve snaps his mouth shut. “Oh, shit,” he whispers, looking up at Joyce. “He- he does? Really?”

“Really,” Joyce confirms, pulling him into a hug.

“Oh,” he mumbles, before letting himself enjoy the hug.

Later, when he’s about to head home, he stops in front of Hopper, glancing nervously over to Joyce, who nods encouragingly. “Can I, uh. Talk to you? For a second?”

Hopper narrows his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Steve’s eyes widen. “No, nothing! Just-” he sighs, runs a hand through his hair, gestures Hopper out the door and around the side of the house. “So, Joyce and I were talking, right? And I was wondering why you’d been acting weird around me, and I didn’t even remember what I said in the hospital, so Joyce told me, and- and I don’t expect anything from you! At all! And it- how I feel doesn’t have to change anything-”

“Christ,” Hopper says, but he’s smiling. “I think you’re worse at emotions than I am.”

“Well I’ve never had to tell anyone I think of them as more of a father figure than my own father before!” Steve blurts out, then freezes.

Hopper bursts out laughing. “Jesus, kid, do you think before you talk?”

Steve’s not hurt. Really. “Sorry,” he mumbles, looking anywhere but at Hopper. “I’ll leave.”

A hand on his wrist stops him. “C’mere, kid,” Hopper says, pulling him into a hug.

Steve stiffens. “What?”

“Boy, you’ve been my kid since the third time I didn’t write you up for one of those damn parties,” he grouses.

Steve relaxes into the hug. “So. If I, uh. Were to, maybe, call you dad again…”

“Just see what I’ll do if you don’t,” Hopper says gruffly, and it’s really not that funny but Steve’s just so relieved that he cracks up anyways.

They pull apart after a minute, and Steve has a giddy grin on his face as he backs up. “Bye, Dad,” he says, before turning and running to his car. Hopper’s laughter follows him.

He’s been close to Dustin for a while now, but still refuses to call his mom Claudia. The most he’ll do is Mrs. H, even though every time she sees him, she tries to get him to call her by her first name.

He can’t do it. He can’t make himself. Maybe it’s the manners instilled in him, maybe he’s just awkward as fuck, who knows. But he chickens out every time.

That’s why, when she answers the door, he smiles. “Hey, Mrs. H.”

“Steve,” she greets him warmly. “Come in, come in. Call me Claudia. Oh, what is this? I told you you don’t have to bring anything!”

“Just some cookies,” he promises her, putting them down where she directs and falling into the hug she gives him.

“Dear,” she asks him later, when they’re sitting at the table with Dustin, “call me Claudia, please?”

Steve can’t look at her; passes the butter Dustin’s silently asking for. “Sorry, Mrs. H.”

“Jesus,” Dustin groans, buttering his roll. “If you can’t even say her name then at least call her mom.”

Steve’s cheeks are on fire. “That’s not exactly up to me, Dust,” he grits out.

“Oh, dear,” Claudia sighs. “I would love for you to call me mom.”

“Then we’d be brothers,” Dustin adds, “which we basically are anyways.”

Steve snorts. “I don’t think that’s exactly how it works,” he tells Dustin, but takes a breath and smiles at Claudia. “Thanks, Mom,” he says quietly. Claudia beams back at him.

“I don’t give a damn!” Claudia yells at the hospital receptionist, who really just looks exceedingly bored.

Steve knows the look of someone who’s grabbing their pepper spray. “Mom?” He calls, wet and wobbly, and Claudia spins around, running to his side.

“Oh, Stevie,” she murmurs, gently cupping his hands. “Oh, goodness, your face- have you gotten looked at? Has someone come to see you? Where’s Dustin?”

Steve opens his mouth to answer and promptly bursts into tears. “He’s f-fine,” he manages. “Ankle. Getting- getting helped. But- Mom-”

She hushes him, pulling him down into a seat next to her. “Let it out, Steve, there you go. Mom’s here, I’ve got you.”

He finally composes himself enough to pull back and look at her. “It’s not good, Mom,” he whispers. “I tried, I really did, and I know CPR but he was losing so much blood-”

“Steve,” she stops him, “I thought you said Dustin was fine?”

“He is, it’s just his ankle, but Eddie, Mom… he’s back there, they’re doing surgery, but he- I felt-” he grabs at his own chest, and somehow Claudia knows what he means. “Oh, dear,” she murmurs, pulling him into another hug. “I’m so proud of you,” she whispers into his ear. “You did what you could, you kept him stable until the doctors could do their job, and now it’s their turn, okay? Let them take care of it. They’re gonna do everything they can.”

His eyes well up again. “He didn’t kill anyone, Mom.”

“Oh, I know that, sweetie. It’s okay. I never thought he did.”

“But they do!” He sniffs, wipes at his face. “And what- what if-”

She pulls his attention back to her with a hand on his face. “Did I tell you about the time a known serial killer came in?” She whispers. He shakes his head. “He’d been in an… altercation, with the police. Shots had been fired. We all knew who he was, but when he flatlined on the table, we got his heart beating again.” She grips his hand tightly. “Doctors take an oath, Steve. They’re going to do everything they can. Okay?”

“Okay,” he mumbles, letting her pull him into another hug.

“Y’wanna tell me about Eddie?”

“You know Eddie.”

“Mhm, from Dusty. I’ve never heard about him from your perspective before.”

“I didn’t really know him before today,” he admits. “I knew of him, in high school, a little bit, but then I graduated and he didn’t and then Dustin started raving about him and… I got jealous.”

“Oh, Steve.” She cards a hand through his hair. “You know Dustin will always love you. You’re brothers.”

Steve sighs. “I know, but… we’re also not. I love you more than I love the woman who birthed me, and I love Dust as much as I’d love any biological sibling I could ever have, but-”

“I know,” Claudia says. “It’s okay, dear. Keep going. Tell me about Eddie.”

“Right. So I got jealous, and then I really didn’t wanna meet him, ‘cause he actually sounded kinda cool and I’m just… me. And I know what you’re gonna say, but you’re biased as my mom.” Claudia just chuckles. “But then I met him, and… he’s really nice, Mom. He really loves the twerps. And he’s, like… kind? And I know nice and kind are synonyms but it’s different. Like he’s just… an inherently good person. That’s kind. Nice you can fake. But you can’t fake kind. Y’know?”

“I know what you mean,” she agrees.

“Okay, good. Well he’s kind. He-” Steve sniffs. “He called me a good dude.”

“Well,” Claudia says, smiling, “you are.”

Steve chuckles wetly. “I am now, maybe, but I wasn’t when we knew each other in high school, and I didn’t really expect him to say anything. And he’s so passionate, Mom, and he’s talented, and he’s selfless, but that backfired because it landed him here-”

Claudia hums, strokes a hand through his hair. “How long have you liked him?” He stiffens. “Oh, please, like I haven’t known this entire time. Honestly, Steve, I’m not an idiot. And I’m not some backwards idiot especially who thinks two boys who love each other are the greatest sin.”

“No, it- Mom, you love Robin, of course you’re fine with it, I just- I didn’t… I didn’t realize.”

“Oh, Stevie,” she sighs, running her hand through his hair again. “When he gets out, are you gonna do something about it?”

“I don’t know,” he says quietly. “Maybe. If- if he even wants to be friends-”

“Okay, now I know you’re talking crazy,” she teases him, grinning.

Just then Hopper walks in, looking around with wide eyes, stopping when he sees Steve. “Dad!” Steve yelps, standing and walking quickly towards him, stopping about three steps in. “Oh, fuck,” he mutters, because he knows the way the room is spinning and his vision is going out.

He’s out before he hits the ground.

He wakes up later to find he didn’t hit the ground, actually; Hopper had leapt forward and caught him the second he’d stopped walking and started swaying.

He blinks bleary eyes open and finds himself looking at a ceiling tile. “What-”

“Don’t move,” comes Hopper’s voice from beside him.

He turns his head to frown at him. “Dad? What happened?”

“You passed out. Jumped outta Claudia’s arms like she’d burned you when you saw me. Much as I love you, kid, the parent’s gotta go first this time, ‘kay? No more self-sacrificing bullshit and not getting medical attention when you need it.”

“M’kay,” Steve says. “Sorry, Dad.”

Hopper puts a hand on his head. It’s comforting. “Go to sleep, kid.”

When he wakes up again, he’s more lucid. He looks around, sees Claudia asleep in the chair next to him. Looks on his other side, and his breath catches when he sees Eddie. His eyes are closed, he’s still asleep, but he’s alive.

“Mom,” he whispers, tearing his eyes away from Eddie to look at her. He feels bad, a little, waking her, but only a little because he knows she’d tear him a new one if he didn’t. “Mom.”

She starts awake and tears up when she sees him. “Stevie,” she murmurs, cradling his face with her hand.

“Mom,” he says again. “He’s here.”

Claudia chuckles. “You can thank your father and I for that one. We raised hell.”

“I bet you did,” he says appreciatively.

“And you, young man,” she says, too full of love to really be mean, “next time you tell me when you’ve been half eaten, okay? Or have you forgotten I’m a nurse?”

“Didn’t forget,” he murmurs, nudging her hand with his face. “Just wanted to stay with you.”

“Oh, Steve,” she murmurs. “You beautiful boy.”

He falls asleep again.

He wakes up again later and looks over to see Eddie also awake, and also looking at him. “Eddie,” he breathes.

It’s hard to tell from where he is, but it looks like Eddie’s blushing. “Looks like I’ve got you to thank for saving my life.”

Now Steve’s blushing. “Ah,” he eloquently says. “No, I mean, just- what anyone else would do?”

“Are you asking me?”

Oh, god, is he teasing? Steve barely survived the flirting before, but now there’s nothing else to keep his attention off Eddie, nothing else he can blame the blush on. “…I just didn’t do much,” he belatedly says.

“Bullshit.” He shifts and hisses in pain. “Fuck, those bastards got me good. But that- that’s proof, y’know?”

Steve blinks. He doesn’t know. “What?”

Eddie grins at him. The stitches in his cheek pull, but don’t tear. “That you saved me.”

Abruptly, Steve tears up. He looks away, up at the ceiling, wills the tears to stay inside. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you-”

“No,” he answers quickly. Too quickly. There’s an awkward silence now. “Fuck,” he mutters. “I- I felt your heart stop, okay?” He looks over again, knows the tears are there, knowing they’re leaking into his hairline and across the bridge of his nose. “I wasn’t sure the doctors were even gonna try that hard to save you. And now you’re joking with me, and-” he takes a quick breath, holds it. Releases it slowly. “‘M just glad you’re okay,” he finally says.

“Oh,” Eddie says quietly. “I, uh. Didn’t think you really… cared. About me.”

“I think I care more than I should.”

Eddie takes a breath. “I’m about to say something way too brave, and I’m only saying it ‘cause we’re both in hospital beds and I’m assuming you can’t just, like, walk over and punch me.”

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. But, uh. Anyways. I don’t… people don’t care about me. My uncle Wayne does, sure, and the kids, but that’s different, and- well. I’ll take whatever care you wanna give me. It won’t be too much.”

“Okay,” Steve says, “well I definitely don’t want to punch you for that, what the hell, but I hope you know you’re gonna get hugged for that as soon as I figure out how to undo all this shit.” He gestures to the tubes in his arms, and Eddie starts to laugh, then stops just as quickly with a hiss.

“Okay, abs got eaten, no laughing,” he mutters, mostly to himself. “Shit, dude, stay in bed, you had like five people in here earlier who all told me specifically to not let you out of bed, though how I’m supposed to do that I dunno.”

Steve blinks over at him. “Five?”

“Well- four, now that I count. Dustin was here with his mom, he’s getting released later but was allowed out of bed for a minute and came to see us. Robin, and she looked angry, are you two, like, okay?”

Steve snorts. “Yeah, she’s just worried.”

“And then Chief Hopper, which- do you wanna explain why the actual Chief of Police was in here?”

“Ah,” Steve says, and blushes again. “He kinda, like… adopted me? Not officially, obviously, but he’s… well, I call him dad, so-”

“And Claudia?”

Steve hums. “‘S my mom. Dust’s my brother.”

Eddie snorts. “Jesus, Harrington, d’you just go around collecting people to call your parents? How many d’you have now, four?”

“Nah, just two. My parents fucked off pretty permanently by the time I was nine. And before that I had nannies when they were gone.”

Eddie blinks at him. “You- wait. Back up. You’ve been alone for the entirety of high school?”

Steve thinks. “I mean, I had Hopper, kinda, but that was before he became Dad, so… I guess?”

“Goddamn,” Eddie whispers wonderingly. “And you’re still sane?”

Steve snorts. “Jury’s out on that one, I mean I do willingly hang out with the twerps, so-”

“Fuck, don’t make me laugh, man.” He sighs. “I get it, though,” he says quietly. “Mom was an angel, but… Dad got to her, y’know? Tore her wings off, rubbed her halo in the dirt. Poured alcohol down her throat until she was dependent on it. And him. And when she-” he shakes his head. “Then it was just Dad, and he got sent away ‘cause apparently his new car wasn’t his, y’know? And I went to live with Wayne at twelve.”

“But now you’ve got Wayne.”

“Mhm.” He smiles a little. “Call ’im pops sometimes, ‘cause he’s my real dad now. Sometimes Wayne, sometimes Uncle Wayne. He doe’n’t care much.”

“What’s it like? Living with him?”

“It’s been a dream, honestly. He’s the nicest person I’ve ever met, and he’s got patience to rival a saint. Doesn’t care when I play my music loud, or forget to eat, or bring boy—uh, girls—over.”

Steve hums. “There’s still the house in Loch Nora, but I stay with the Hendersons most days. I tend to bring people I meet to Loch Nora, just ‘cause it’s empty, y’know? I mean, Dust’s a little shit, and he’d tease me regardless of who I brought home. Mom wouldn’t care. Hell, she’d probably give me a condom and lube,” he laughs. “And she’s teaching Dustin to be the same way. He’ll get there one day.”

“He’s a twerp,” Eddie agrees. “I didn’t know you, uh-”

“Mhm,” Steve answers. “Robin says I’m like Bowie.”

“Like Bowie- you’re bisexual?”

“That’s the one!” Steve says happily. “I can never remember the name.”

Eddie looks at him wonderingly. “Who are you, Steve Harrington?”

Eventually they get out of the hospital, and eventually they stop circling around each other. Eventually they kiss, and fall asleep on the couch, and make each other breakfast, and do certain things behind closed doors that Steve still can’t think about without blushing.

Eventually they’re outside the Munson’s trailer, working in the garden that Eddie, surprisingly, loved.

“Imma go in,” Steve says eventually. “Get a drink.”

“Alright,” Eddie says, not looking up from where he’s pulling weeds near his tomatoes. “I’ll be here.”

Steve has a bit of a headache already, and he knows drastic temperature changes don’t help. He didn’t think the trailer was that big of a difference, but it’s cool enough he’s got goosebumps breaking out along his arms almost immediately. Then he’s hit with a blast of freezing air when he opens the fridge, and his head begins to throb. “Fuck,” he mutters, shutting the door and grabbing for a glass, hoping the sink water isn’t too cold.

It’s cooler than he’d like, but it’s all he’s got right now, and he knows if he doesn’t hydrate it’s going to end up worse. He chugs two glasses, sets the cup down, and goes to sit at the table, rubbing his eyes.

It gets worse almost without him realizing: one second his relatively fine, the next he’s groaning in pain, trying to block out all the light by laying his head on his forearm.

A hand on his back startles him. “Dee?”

“Wayne,” comes the gruff voice. “Not Eddie. Y’got a migraine?”

“Mhm.”

“Y’take anything for it?”

Steve waves a hand. “Had water.”

Wayne leaves for a minute, comes back and presses two pills into Steve’s hand. A glass of water is placed in front of him.

He takes the pills, squinting, and lays his head back down.

“Nuh-uh,” Wayne says, “up you get, c’mon, you’re sleepin’ this off.” Hands at his shoulders guide him out of his seat, shuffle him slowly down the hall to Eddie’s cool, dark room. Lay him down and pull the blankets over him.

Steve sighs and relaxes into the bed, cracking an eye open to look at Wayne. “Thanks, Pops,” he murmurs, then winces when Wayne freezes. “S’rry. Wayne.”

Wayne pets a hand through Steve’s hair. “Pops works just fine,” he says. “I’ll tell Ed you’re in here.”

“M’kay,” Steve breathes, and lets himself fall asleep.

They’re at Hopper’s cabin, an annual We Saved the World semi-party that usually ends in at least one disagreement.

Eddie’s got most of the kids corralled away in the living room, with promises of an epic one-shot. The adults, Steve, Max, and El are in the kitchen.

He doesn’t know who started it, but someone teases him, and Hopper ruffles his hair with another jab. “Dad,” he complains good-naturedly, laughing.

“Steve?” El asks.

“Yeah?” He looks at her.

“Hopper is your dad.”

Steve glances at Hopper, who’s listening, but making no move to answer. “I mean… not, like, biologically, but yeah.”

“Me too,” El says. “Are you my brother, then?”

Steve flounders. “I- I guess if you want me to be?”

“You’re a good brother to Dustin,” she answers. “I haven’t had any good brothers besides Will, and we are the same age. I would like a good older brother.”

He smiles, tugs her into a hug. “I guess I’m your brother, then.”

She goes willingly. “Does that mean Joyce is your mom too?” She looks up at him, big eyes serious. “She is a good mom.”

“Uh,” Steve says, “that’s kinda up to Joyce.”

“Oh, honey,” Joyce says, because of course everyone had stopped talking the moment El had started. “Why don’t you call me Mama J?”

Steve smiles bashfully, accepting her hug. “Sounds good to me.”

When he tells Eddie later, his boyfriend laughs. “You really do collect parents!”

[rinffection]

୨ৎ Let me do your makeup, love!

when you’re too sleepy in the morning to do your makeup.. so your boyfriend helps you do it instead!

featuring! Itoshi Rin x female reader. Pure fluff!!

a/n : my first work.. I hope you guys enjoyy :3 sorry if it’s short I get bored of writing really fast ;(

notes : afab!reader, mxf, NOT PROOFREAD, rushed!

“Why’re you still in bed?” Rin narrowed his eyes at you as he examined your current situation, — messed up, still sprawled on the bed and hugging that stuffed bear he had won for you at the arcade last Saturday.

The alarm clock on your bedside table flashed 11:57am. You had overslept. You groaned, flipping over and slowly sitting up as if it was a pain to do so.

You knew that you and Rin always went out together on a Saturday, except today, your limbs were giving you a hard time, and you really didn’t want to get up at the moment.

“I’m too tired.” You whined, rubbing your eyes to focus on your vision. “Let’s stay home today,” you mumble after yawning.

“Too tired?” He scoffs, raising an eyebrow at you. But it didn’t take long before he sighed and sat on the edge of your bed, as if complying to you.

“Come on, I’ll help you get ready.” He mutters, reaching his hand over to your face to brush away a few strands of your hair messily framing your face. You grumbled and whined in mumbled complaints as he hooked you up into his embrace, carrying you to the bathroom.

—

“What are you doing?” You let out a sleepy chuckle as he applied foundation over your face with a makeup sponge. His phone was playing one of those makeup tutorials on YouTube as he followed the steps precisely.

“Doing your makeup.” He huffed, setting the sponge down and lifting your chin to observe how well he did.

When he let out a grunt of approval, he pressed play on his phone, watching intently once again. You smiled faintly at his determined expression.

“Awh, are you my personal makeup artist now, Rinnie?” You teased, poking at him for a reaction. His lips curved into a slight frown as he shot you a small glare, before pausing the video again.

“This is only a one-time thing.” He mutters, before scanning all your makeup items and eventually finding some concealer. As he dabs some over your blemishes, you give him a teasing grin.

You hum a playful tune, letting him follow the instructions on the YouTube video playing on his phone. He seemed too intent to make sure your makeup looks flawless, so you didn’t bother ruining his focus as he did your makeup.

Once he was done, he clawed the top of your head and turned your head to face the mirror. It was an hour later, which was longer than you usually took. But considering it was his first time, you shrugged it off. At least he didn’t create a monstrosity on your face.

Well, he was the Rin Itoshi. Your boyfriend who was precise and detail-oriented. You figured he would’ve probably freaked out if he messed something up anyways, — even if he didn’t show it on his face.

You beamed at your own reflection, before catching his nervous expression from the corner of your eyes.

“You did so well, Rinnie. You should do my makeup more. Maybe when I’m sleepy in the mornings, mhm?” You smile, turning around to give him a small peck on his lips.

“Whatever. It’s nothing.” He huffs. Though, you giggled at the light shade of pink dusting his cheeks as he turned his head to the side.

after notes! : HII! I hope you enjoyed this one. I got this idea from a instagram reel where the girl was letting her boyfriend do her makeup because she was too sleepy… and I was like, bye, this is literally me. (Except I have no boyfriend 😭)

[swanimagines]

Hola can i request a Morpheus x f!Reader fic where her son is running over all the palace because he doesn’t want to take a bath?

Sorry English is not my first language

A/N: Ahem ahem, excuse me... this may be the first time in a very long time I'm actually genuinely HAPPY with something I wrote?? If there's a writing deity or a saint, I will pray to them and hope for this kind of skill and motivation and inspiration and whatever hell I need to produce THIS kind of content in the future too, thanks bye!

"Aridus!" your voice echoed through the grand corridors as you chased after your son, who had decided today was not the day for a bath. He turned around slightly, his face scrunched up in anger.

“I don’t want to take a bath!” he declared for the hundredth time, before taking a turn to yet another maze of hallways. You let out a frustrated groan, even though you tried to keep it in.

“I know, sweetie, but after all that playing with Goldie, you’re all muddy, I can’t let you go to bed like that!” You stopped, as you took the turn to where he went. “Aridus, please just—”

“No! I don’t want to sleep either!” His voice echoed through the hallway, it was impossible to know which nook he took as a hiding place. “Daddy never sleeps either!”

It was true, the everlasting bickering with him. Why is daddy able to go around day and night, why can’t he stay up to play all night as well. But the thing was, Aridus was your offspring too, and you were originally from the Waking world — and you needed sleep, so Aridus needed sleep too. Your husband had told you that Aridus may need less sleep than a “regular” human as he grows up, but as a toddler he was just like regular children were. Getting tantrums out of being tired, while the tantrum is about not wanting to go to sleep. “I know sweetie, but he’s–”

“No!” he screamed, and you heard the patter of feet going further again.

You barely heard Morpheus coming to stand beside you, but you felt his presence and turned to look at him. “I can’t catch him. He’s persistent and knows how to tire me out.”

Morpheus's lips had a small hint of a smile. “He is much like you, then.”

You scoffed and crossed your arms. “Me? Are you sure? You’re the one who’s refusing to listen to any other opinions of change when you’ve already decided the ‘best’ way. I think he’s more like you than me.”

Morpheus smiled properly now, inclining his head forward. “True.”

A loud crash interrupted the sound of running, and you heard something rolling through the floor, followed by a soft thud and a whimper from Aridus. You walked forward with Morpheus following close behind, and discovered the source. Aridus had collided with one of the pedestals, which had sent a stack of dream scrolls all over the room. You moved to stand in front of him and brought your hands to your hips, sighing.

Suddenly your son, who had been so angry just a moment earlier, looked more remorseful as ever. “I… I didn’t mean to.”

Before you could answer, you felt Morpheus’s hand on your shoulder. “Allow me, my love.”

Aridus sat there frozen in place, looking at his father kneeling in front of him. Morpheus reached out, carefully tucking a curl of hair behind Aridus’s ear. “Do you know why we need to take baths, Aridus?”

Aridus’s shoulders slumped. “I know, father. Mother doesn’t want my bed to get dirty. But I don’t like to get wet.”

Morpheus shook his head. “It is not only because we get dirty. Every day, all living beings get dream dust on them. If there’s too much of it, it weighs us down. It affects our mood and eventually… it may make us fall asleep and never again wake up. Be stuck in nightmares forever, and not even I would be able to help.”

Aridus stared at his father, his mouth opening slightly before he whispered, “Stuck?”

Morpheus nodded. “Yes. Even the stars must cleanse themselves of the night sometimes.”

For a moment, Aridus stared at the floor, clearly trying to contemplate his options. But eventually, he looked up again and nodded. “Okay.”

You smiled slightly, ushering him towards the bathroom before you looked back at your husband, who was left cleaning the mess up.

—

Later, when you watched your son sleeping in his little bed from the doorway, you felt a slight gust of air as Morpheus appeared to your side again. You smiled at him and whispered, “You’re good at making up stories. I think he’ll be much more willing to take baths in the future.”

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on your son. “I merely spoke the truth.”

You frowned. “Really?”

He turned towards you slightly. “Yes. Well, maybe I dramatised it a little, but much of it was true. Even stars need to be born anew sometimes. They too resist, hang on, but ultimately they yield and give way to new stars. Just like our son did.”

You nodded and let yourself lean against him slightly. "I’ll admit, I was starting to lose hope there for a moment. I didn’t think anything could convince him to take a bath, let alone willingly. He certainly takes after both of us. I thought I'd never tire him out, but you…” you murmured and looked at him. “You have a way with him. Maybe I should let you handle all the tantrums from now on."

Morpheus pushed you away slightly, tracing his fingers against your bare arm. "I would handle them all, if you so wished," he whispered. "But I believe Aridus needs you as much as he needs me. You are his anchor to both worlds. Without you, he might wander too far in the night."

You smiled a little at that. Morpheus certainly knew his way through words, it was in his nature, in how he was created, sure, but you felt like he had learned a thing or two from love since he fell in love with you all those centuries ago.

You sighed, looking at your sleeping son. “He seems to like wandering. He has told me so many times he wants to be just like you, and I don’t know how to tell him that it isn’t possible.”

Morpheus was quiet for a moment, running his hand up and down your arm. “He must learn to walk in both worlds because when the time comes… Waking world may call out to him. In any case, balance is essential. And he must learn to control and thrive, whatever his place will end up being.”

You swallowed, remembering that once your son grows up, he may only be able to visit you at night. You’d watch him grow old year by year, and only get him back once he dies. Which will take centuries, if not even millennials with his Endless blood. And even then, he may choose the Land of the Dead if he has loved ones there. But Morpheus made it sound… like it was natural. Which it of course was, you reminded yourself. “You make it sound so simple. That it will be simple to accept it.”

"Simple, no. But necessary, yes." His hand stilled on your arm. "And you, my love, have always excelled at guiding him in ways I cannot."

You were quiet for a moment again. “I just don’t want him to grow up so fast.”

He was quiet for a moment too, taking in a deep breath. “I wish he did not grow so fast either. But moments like these, they will linger. Forever, if necessary. We need not fear losing him.”

You nodded, finally closing the door and following Morpheus towards the throne room. “I guess I should just remember he’s going to be a half-deity like you. And that hopefully he’s going to make the world a better place.”

Morpheus turned to look at you, taking your hands in his. “He will have both of us with him when he enters the Waking world, and be more than us. He will be a dream, but also a heartbeat. And that, my love, is his gift.”

You swallowed, but then closed your eyes and dropped your face towards the floor. “I know. As long as he has both of us in him, he’ll be alright.”

Morpheus cupped your cheek, tilting your head to look at him again. “He will thrive. He will flourish in ways we cannot yet even imagine.”

You nodded, glancing back towards Aridus’s room and then you turned back to Morpheus. “I love you.”

His smile appeared again, an expression only reserved for you before he kissed your forehead. “And I, you. Always.”

Requests are open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[froggiewrites]

Hii, I hope you're doing well, if not I'll hope things will go better!

I really liked your writing like it's so good!!

I have an sfw request about Ace.

So basically reader is feeling really sick recently so they spend a lot of time with Marco who gives them advices and all, and Ace gets jealous about this cause he thinks that reader is interested in Marco so one day when he's with the both of them he just says something like "oh I wouldn't want to be the third wheel" like something that clearly shows that he thought the two of them were now a couple and when he learns that they're not he immediately confess to reader?

I really hope it's not too precise, if you want to change things feel free to since you're the artist here, and I hope you understood (English isn't my first language) thank you so much for the other stories!

Take care, bye bye!

Hi, thank you so much for your well wishes and your request! Sorry this took so long, I burned myself out a little bit with the Halloween event and it took me a little time to get back into the swing of things. This one is short and sweet, and I hope you like it!

Third Wheeling It

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: You've been spending a lot of time down in the clinic with Marco recently, and Ace gets the wrong idea. Warnings: Fluff, Misunderstandings, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort, Idiots in Love Word Count: 1.6k

You’re convinced you’re never going to feel normal again. You have a headache you just can’t shake, and a fatigue down to your bones. You haven’t been able to shake whatever it is, no matter how much you rest.

“Are you really sure I just need to take it easy? It’s been weeks.”

Marco gives you a sympathetic look. “I know, but you really do just need time. You burned yourself out. Recovering from that takes a while.” He had been telling you that since you first started making regular visits to his office a couple weeks ago. You had spent a majority of the last week curled up in one of the beds in the clinic, pretending to rest but really just bothering Marco to entertain yourself. You suppose it was rest, in a way, but you liked to pretend you were somehow tricking him, getting away with something. It made you feel less helpless, and helped ease the ache of missing your normal routine.

You throw yourself down on the cot you had claimed for your own. “But I want to be better now.”

He laughs. “Don’t we all. If desire were all it took, I would be out of a job.”

“You could still fight. You don’t need to be a doctor to be a pirate.”

“True enough. But my point still stands: if our bodies listened to what we wanted there would be no need for doctors. Sometimes there really is no magic solution other than time.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah, it does.” He passes by your cot, ruffling your hair light as he walks past. “But you’ll pull through.”

“Will you sit with me? We can suffer together.”

“I have work to do,” he says, sitting on the edge of your cot with a slight smile anyway. “And I wouldn’t really call hanging out with you suffering.”

You smile sleepily. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

“You need to raise your standards.”

“My standards are sky high, thank you very much.”

“Oh yeah? What are they, then?”

“One, handsome. Two, nice to me. Three, end of list.”

He laughs. “God, the bar is in the ground for you, huh? Let me correct that for you: three, be Portgas D. Ace.”

You blush. “That–I–uh. Shut up!”

Marco is still laughing at you when you hear a throat clear in the doorway. You both look up to see the man you were just speaking of leaning against the doorframe, his eyes avoiding yours, a slight frown on his lips. “Sorry, I just–I heard you were down here again, and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You smile at him, bright and earnest. “I’m doing alright, I guess. As well as I can be.”

Marco stands, moving away from your bed and back to his desk, more than willing to let Ace take his place at your sickbed. “They’re fine, really. They just hate listening to me.”

“I’d like listening to you if you had better things to say.”

“Ouch!” He puts a hand over his chest. “I’m just doing my job here!”

As you both giggle with each other, Marco trying to distract you and you trying to let him, you both miss Ace shifting uncomfortably and biting his lip. However, once you’ve come back down, you don’t miss the way he’s looking at you, a look far too intense to dismiss. It’s strange, somewhere half between hurt and resignation. Something flashes in his eyes, something pained, but before you can ask him what’s wrong he’s already turned his back. “I’ll leave you two to hang out. I wouldn’t want to interrupt.”

“You’re leaving already?” You can’t leave the sorrow out of your voice or the pout off of your face. “But I’ve missed you.” And you had, really. Spending most of your time down here with Marco means you’ve barely spent any time at all with Ace these past few weeks. You had missed everything about him, from his smile to his laugh to his loud, obnoxious snores when he passed out halfway through dinner. 

His shoulders stiffen. His voice is tight when he speaks again. “You shouldn’t say things like that. You could give a guy the wrong idea.”

You sit up, wincing but forcing yourself through the discomfort. “What kind of wrong idea?”

“The idea that you might be…interested.”

“That sounds like the right idea, actually.”

He whips around, his face painted with hurt. “That isn’t funny.”

“Who’s joking?”

“I…really. This isn’t…this is cruel. Having to third wheel with you two is hard enough without…”

Marco finally speaks up, his voice filled with confusion. “Third wheel?”

“Yeah, watching you two get closer while I have to pretend I’m fine is hard enough, you guys don’t need to rub it in my face.” He doesn’t sound angry, really, just defeated and pained. “I’m trying to be happy for you, you don’t need to make it harder than it already is.”

You furrow your brow. “Happy for us?”

Marco can’t help the surprised bark of a laugh that leaves him. “You think we’re dating?”

Ace pauses. “You…aren’t?”

“Hell no!”

“Absolutely not!”

You and Marco both instantly refute the claim, perhaps a little more harshly than necessary.

Ace lights up like the sun. “You mean it?”

“Of course we mean it!” You cry.

“Why wouldn’t we mean it?” Marco chuckles, voice filled with the sort of weary but unwavering affection Ace tends to bring out in people. 

“Will you go out with me?” Ace stares at you with wide, pleading eyes, already moving to beg on his hands and knees, as though he expects rejection.

“You aren’t really my type,” Marco quips with a laugh, before closing the curtain to give you two some privacy.

It’s your turn to be shocked, heart beating out of your chest and cheeks flushing. “You–I–What?”

He grins, on his knees in front of you, taking a hand in his. “I like you, a lot. Will you go out with me?”

“This is so sudden.” You want to say yes, of course. Why wouldn’t you? But you weren’t expecting such a confession today, and your head is still pounding, and you can’t quite get over the thought that Marco is listening right behind the curtain. You know that Ace doesn’t care about any of those things, blind to anything but his goal in any situation, but you could never be so headstrong, so carefree. Could you?

“I’ve liked you from the moment I saw you.” His smile is growing ever wider, his eyes filling with hope. “I thought I had lost my chance, and I will absolutely never take that risk again. Will you be mine? Or, I guess, could I be yours?”

Your cheeks are on fire, and your brain is melting, but your mouth moves despite yourself. “Yes,” you hear yourself say.

You’re pinned to the bed as he throws himself at you, laughing joyously. “Yes? Oh my god, yes!” He tucks his face into your neck, and you can feel his smile. “I never thought it’d be a yes.”

“How could it be anything else?” Your voice is soft, more vulnerable than you’d like. But you would never understand how he could expect anything less than success. You don’t know how anyone could speak to Ace for longer than five minutes and not fall madly and deeply in love with everything about him: his smile, his humor, his confidence. He shines like the sun, and you don’t know how anyone could ever resist basking in his warmth for as long as they can.

“Well up until a couple minutes ago I thought you were in love with Marco.”

You laugh. “I’ve been sick, Ace. He’s a doctor.”

He doesn’t respond, and you can see a bit of pink at the tips of his ears. “How was I supposed to know?”

“You could have asked.”

“You should listen to them,” Marco calls from behind the curtain. “This was entirely self-inflicted.”

“Shut up!” He finally leaves your neck just to shout at Marco, cheeks hot. “Would you have asked?”

“Yes. I’m a grown man. I can handle a tough conversation.”

“Well–I–Shut up!”

Marco laughs, and you can hear the door slam shut behind him. Ace buries himself in your neck again, his strong arms pulling around you even tighter, and you can’t help but smile. He seems so delicate like this, so unlike his usual self, and you can’t help but admire him. He’s so charming even now, so vulnerable and small. “I would have been too nervous to ask too,” you quietly reassure him. “And it doesn’t matter anyway, because you said it.”

He smiles against your skin. “I did say it,” he mumbles. “And you accepted.”

“I did.”

“I really like you.”

“I really like you, too.”

You don’t have a moment to react before his lips are on yours, slightly chapped and hesitant. You imagine this is what sunlight tastes like, warm and inviting. His hand rests on your cheek, thumb brushing lightly against your skin. He’s smiling as he pulls away. “And now I can do that whenever I want.”

You grin. “You can. You’re encouraged, even.”

And so he kisses you again. Marco leaves you too alone for as long as he can justify to himself, and when he finally interrupts you two again you find yourself more than ready to leave the clinic again, a warm hand intertwined with yours and your headache nearly entirely gone.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley with a Pregnant!Wife!Reader

Headcanons and Scenarios

Am I back with baby fever? I mean yeah but this is less baby fever and more if Husband!Simon in honor of my first ever post that reached 1k likes in 4 days. Also you guys know Ghostie by now right? @connorsui mentioned that she wonders how Ghost and the reader met, guess who's writing about that?

Edit: SHIT, THIS POST HAS BEEN UP FOR SO LONG AND I FORGOT TO ADD CREDIT, I'M SO SORRY. The render above is by @ave661

Taglist: @puff0o0 @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @theredurzikdjinn @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb

Also @puff0o0, my most favorite moot has helped me come up with how they met, UGH ILYYY <333

My CoD Masterlist <3

Warnings/Disclaimers: Reader is pregnant, sick!Reader, mentions of vomiting (not detailed), pain of birth and all the other pregnancy warnings out there. (Extreme fluff)

❥ Husband!Simon who had no fucking clue how to react when you first told him you got pregnant, I mean he knew at some point it would happen but not this soon?!

❥ Husband!Simon who in your early stages of pregnancy was the one holding your hair up while you empty the contents of your stomach on the toilet most mornings. He was the one who had a warm hand gently rubbing up and down your back while mumbling light encouragements, careful not to agitate you from the sickening feeling.

❥ Husband!Simon who was gradually getting the hang of things, getting clingier the further into the pregnancy. Once the baby bump comes in, bye bye personal space, Dad!Simon needs to have his hand on the bump no less than 10 times a day.

❥ Husband!Simon who is a sucker for kissing the baby bump, especially your stretch marks. He will be more gentle if you ask him to because your ticklish, but don't expect none of his stuble.

❥ Husband!Simon whose breath hitches when you took his large calloused hand onto your baby bump and felt movement, he had to blink twice up at you and look down again. Only now it was two hands holding the bump, waiting for more kicks.

❥ Husband!Simon who lets you do all the shopping with baby stuff because he has no idea what looks cute, every once in a while showing you something he thinks looks good and asks for your approval.

❥ Husband!Simon who looks back up at you in concern as he hears you whimper, as much as he wants more movement and feel the little one kick, you were in pain and uncomfortable. Some soothing words might help..?

You let out a soft whimper as you felt the baby kick again, god did she have her father's strength..

Simon still had his warm and heavy hand on the bump, feeling the little one's movement.

"Pumpkin.. give your momma a rest, she needs some sleep" Simon sleepily mutters. Just like that the movement stops.

"I swear she only ever listens to your voice, it's obvious that she's already a daddy's girl"

❥ Husband!Simon who is more than obsessed with the baby bump, albeit his ear over the bump to hear the baby, big calloused hands always have to be some place on it. You'll just find your husband clinging onto your bump, his head on your chest while his arms are wrapped around the loves of his life.

❥ Husband!Simon who was far more panicked than you were during the birth, he literally cannot even pay attention to the pain of your hand almost breaking his from the gripping because his heart is pounding in his chest while you push out the baby.

❥ Husband!Dad!Simon who was trembling the moment you forced him to open up his arms so he could hold the baby. She's so tiny, her whole body almost fits in just one of his hands. The moment he held her, she stopped wailing, trying so hard to open her little eyes.

❥ Husband!Dad!Simon couldn't help but pull you up into his arms too because you couldn't move up from exhaustion. Your hand on the little one's body that was cradled by her dad, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders while he kissed your sweaty forehead, singing praises to you about how thankful he is that you brought life to your little girl together.

A/n: Hi guys, just to start off. I haven't been in a good space for a while now, I don't think I'm in the right headspace either. Not to say I'm taking a break, fuck no, I'd lose all my relevance if I did and I also think that taking a break from this won't be good for me or you guys because I don't want history to repeat itself.

If you guys don't know yet, I've been on the break in 2020 and didn't officially start writing again till 2023, finally entering a different fandom. I feel like taking a break would result into this whole thing again and I can't go through that all over again. I love writing so much and it hurt when I lost all my relevance on Wattpad.

My personal life outside of Tumblr is weird to explain, see things haven't been good regarding my situation with a friend. Neither do I feel good in school, everything in that place just sucks except for two other closer friends. There's still the dreadful 3 weeks left till Christmas vacation. Not only that but I get anxiety over so many things that may be little to most of you.

A mutual of mine so graciously has given me ideas for the next Ghostie posts, I love them, it's accurate and it's great and all however some part of me makes me feel so insignificant. Like why didn't I think of that? Why am I even writing if I'm just relying on other people's ideas? This is no shade to that mutual, thank you so much, hell I loved everything they told me. It's just always my anxiety and insecurities getting the better of me.

Apologies for the length of this. I'm quite busy and my clumsy fingers accidentally published something again 😭Anyway, more Ghostie content is on it's way :))

[verinarin]

𝐘𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞.

𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞.

cw // contains 2.2 penacony quest spoilers

Angst | years after he vanished, you found solace in the path of trailblaze. the day you departed from the astral express, however was the day another version of him greets you.

Traversing through the stars as a nameless was never something you see for yourself, but alas after years of escaping the pain of loosing you have found peace.

You boarded the express with a bleeding wound, yet departed with a new sense of self. Blazing the path of traiblaze has given you precious memories.

Memories that have become the solace you yearn for and now you reside on a planet far away from your hometown, Penacony.

Your heart still burns for the spirit of trailblazing, spreading the tales you’ve theard upon these past years was your way of keeping the spirit of trailblazing alive.

There’s hundreds of letters you have sent to the nameless who still traverse the sky full of stars, while you blaze paths for the younger generations to yearn to reach the glimmering stars above.

“Miss, is it true that the astral express has two conductors?,” a young boy that perched up to your lap asked.

“Well now we only have one conductor which is pom-pom and a navigator ! The astral express’ current navigator is Miss Himeko,” you smiled softly as you stroked the boy’s hair.

This is a glimpse of your life now, as the local’s beloved storyteller. You could be easily found reading a book or writing at a cafe near your house.

You heard a motherly voice searching for her son, “Now young man it seems that you mother is searching for you, better to go back to her alright,” you pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Alright ! Bye bye Miss Nameless,” he waved as he ran back towards his mother who offered you a thank you smile from afar.

Now you reside back at your table, a letter has found its way to you. Perhaps it was friends from the astral express, but there’s the ‘pom-pom’s signature’ stamp to be found after all.

With a smile you pressed the rim of your coffee filled cup to your lips, it’s been a while since you talked to them. As you place down your cup, a tinge of amberwood lingers in the air.

It was a scent that you found alluring years ago, it made you feel a little bit nostalgic. You close your eyes and let the tale of the past play inside your mind like a movie.

“Excuse me, Miss. Is this seat taken ?,” a voice greeted you, his voice has successfully awaken you from your daydream.

“The seat in front of me ?,” he asked as you flutter your eyes open, to reveal a man dressed in a white shirt.

The collar was unbuttoned slightly revealing a chest that harbours scars across the body, it took you seconds to tilt your head up.

You can’t really make out the man’s face, the sun that shines warmly behind him hinders you from doing so, “Yeah, the seat on your table” he chuckled, as he folded his arms.

His arms were proudly displayed against his chest, his sleeves were rolled up to display his strong arms, clean from any scars. In contrast with his chest.

“Well I’m not meeting anyone, so feel free,” you extend your hand towards the seat in front of you, letting him know that it’s alright for him to sit in front of you.

And so he did, now you could clearly study his face. He has kind eyes, rich brown in colour. His features were strong and rugged yet somehow gentle in nature. His face was decorated with salt and pepper stubble, signifying his old age.

His hair was parted in the middle, it was as long as his neck. You could tell that he cared a lot for his hair, it was well groomed, “Are you not going to ask who I am ?” he smiled as he saw you gazing through himself.

“Ah sorry for staring, you just feel familiar,” you stated honestly before brushing your hair back.

“How so ?” his eyes lingers at you, coaxing you to question more and more about him.

“Can’t tell really,” you’re not going to blabber upon the past that haunts you for so long now, would you ?

Not when you’ve grown this far.

“Heh, such a shame then,” the cadence of his voice, irks your mind. Scratches your heart in some way….

“A shame indeed,” you nodded, your fingers circling the rim of your cup as you await his reply.

“I heard you were once a nameless,” that’s a well known fact by now, at least in the area you live in.

“It was years ago but I'm glad my name still holds some fame, so do you need something from the astral express?” he will not be the first person who makes use of your past to contact the express.

“Nah, I’m just here for your audience,” he spoke, the tone was light yet somehow deep in context, shrouded in mystery.

“Who are you?” you asked the question he yearned the most, his face reflects it perfectly.

“Care to take an educated guess, Miss ?” he cocked his eyebrows as you ruminated through the possibilities.

“You still do the thing huh ?” he chuckled, his face now rested against his palm as he watches you picking apart the past and the future.

“What thing ?” you asked, he spoke those words like he knew you for years, which was odd. He’s a stranger after all.

“The thing where you’ll pout your lips slightly when you’re drowned by your thoughts,” he knew you, knew you well enough and long enough to notice these things.

“Let’s cut to the chase, don’t play games with me old man. Who are you ?” your eyes bore deep into his own, trying to pry the truth out of him.

“Funny, you used to call me that too,” he chuckles, his eyes bore no malice, just a sense of long and yearning.

You only called ‘old man' to a handful of people, but one strikes the most in this case, but it can’t be him.

You refuse it to be him.

You merely stared at him, not wanting to entertain his statement, “Fine, I’ll give out a little tip. I tend to amend things, which is why I am here now, sitting idly in front of you,”

“Amend things ? How could you amend things that are not broken ?” you questioned, the man before you was too relaxed and aloof to be talking in riddles.

“Well you’re not broken per say, but well I am,” the man merely chuckled as he looked down towards the concrete floor.

“So you want me to fix you ?” you ask, your endless pond of patience grew dry by the second.

“Close, but no,” you could see the evident smirk as he kept his gaze down.

“You’re speaking in riddles here sir, some might mistake you as a follower of the enigmata if you keep this up,” this time his eyes trained itself back to yours.

“Well aren’t you still sharp,” he mused, clearly happy that he didn’t need to elaborate on more.

“You’re not him, you can’t be him anymore,” this is a fact, even if this being was him, it is not him.

“Can’t be who ? I’ve been living countless lives before. Be specific would ya ?” the man now let his back rest against the chair, ain’t he comfortable now ?

“You know very well the life I’m talking about,” you sighed, he could be him or even a part of masked fools really.

The masked fools that’s notorious for transforming themselves into one’s beloved.

“Well say that name for old time’s sake, humour this ol’ hound,” never mind, it is him. A masked fool won’t replicate this current body that he made, he’s a stranger to you.

A foreign being.

“You’re not Gallagher, never will be him again as a matter of fact,” that type of wording was not your style to use, you felt bad for speaking those truths.

“Ouch that stings, I was him y’know,” he lips pouted, while his arms are folded against his chest. Yet his gaze still placed snugly into you.

“Past tense,” you quipped, well you felt bad about the cold demeanour, but still how would someone act in this situation ?

“Touché,” he laughed, now from his mannerisms. It reminds you of Gallagher, but he’s not him.

This man is well put, smells expensive, and it seems like he does not drink that much. When you think about it, the man before you resembles the qualities that you find attractive in a man.

As wouldn’t you know it, you told this list to Gallagher over a drink years ago.

“Let me ask you this once more, who are you ?” your stern voice was something he never listened to, but he welcomed it warmly.

“Whoever you want me to be,” he smiles, his voice sounds like he was teasing, but you know deep down that it is true.

“Why are you here ?” the question that has been clouding your mind since the reveal.

“To see through another fiction with you as my main muse,” his voice draws deeper than before.

The gravity of his statement was heavy, it made your heart stop for a mere second just to make sense of it all.

His eyes softened as he saw your shock ridden expression, your hands trembled, unsure with what to answer. He finds his way to hold them gently.

It felt nostalgic, even though the hand that held yours was not the same as before, it felt like home.

“To fabricate a new page in history, to make amends for the past, to see through another life. I’m here to live another life with you, to grow old by your side,” he continues, somehow the display of loyalty soothed your trembling hands.

“And even after death, I’ll wait for you to be reborn back into my arms, forever more,” his warmth left your hand as he stood up from his chair.

He walked towards your side, your hands now placed perfectly against your lap as he kneels before you.

“That is my reason,” he leaned down, bringing your fingertips towards his lips.

“Own my heart once more, dearest,” he begged.

The man begged for a chance once more.

[simpsdept]

Yandere Carmilla x Alastors! daughter reader (platonic)

Words: 2.1k

Requested: I_Love_Carmilla_Carmine

“Here to Stay”

A/n: sorry I haven’t posted for a while! I’m working on my school and have been busy! I’ll probably be writing more again on the weekend! Sorry the fight scene is bad!!!

Info: the reader gets left to Carmilla to take care of, Carmilla loved the reader like her own child, and doesn’t want her to leave. And Carmilla will go far to ensure she won’t

Sitting at her desk in her office, Carmilla writes and reads her documents. During this time she hears a knock on her door, she says a stern “enter” for whoever is out there. Turning around to face the door, she sees..Alastor? And a young child, you, near him. “Alastor? What is it that you need?” She asked stern, a little confused and polite.

“Hello Carmine! I have some business I need to attend to! And I came here asking for a favor!” He states in his usual radio and happy tone, a large smile planted on his face.

“Do tell..” Carmilla waits for what he wants, wondering why an overlord like himself would be asking for a favor in the first place.

“You see this little darling? This is my daughter [Name]! And I need you to keep her under your wing for a while.” He motioned to you, gently pushing you forward to see Carmilla. Shy and young, you look down and avert your eyes from Carmillas, she really was much more intimidating.

Carmillas gaze softened as she looked down at your shy form, then looked back at Alastor. “How long are you expected to be gone?”

“Oh, not that long..maybe a few days, but this little darling won’t cause you any trouble!” He said in his usual tone, smiling.

“I guess I can make some time for her..” Carmilla says looking down at you. She had a thing for children, she loved them, and when looking at you her heart softened.

“I give you my thanks” Alastor smiled and knelt down to you, a genuine grin on his face. “I will see you soon my dear, make sure you’re behaving for Carmilla here.” He said and gave your shoulder a pat.

“Okay..” you say and give him a quick hug, Alastor hugged back and stood up, saying his good byes and walking out the room. You turn to Carmilla, looking up at her.

“Come now little one..” she held her larger hand out to you, waiting for you to take it. You hesitated, but eventually took her hand, maybe you’d get use to Carmilla when your fathers out for the next couple of days.

…

…

…

Seven years. It’s been seven years since you’ve seen your father…that man that raised you in your earlier life..the man you wanted to see again. You got use to Carmilla after a few weeks when your father didn’t return like he promised. You were young and needed comfort, and study life and household, and lucky for you Carmilla was willing to give it to you, along with a caring mother figure, herself, and her daughters being your older sisters.

Though, she did act a lot more protective over you. You never had a mother so you just thought that mothers do this and it’s completely normal. It went from small things like telling her exactly where you’re going when you leave the house, and then started to get worse to the point she won’t even let you leave.

She grew possessive and overprotective. She was still kind, caring, and motherly, just more controlling. She loved you, like you were one of her daughters. You basically were, you spent seven years of your life at her house, being raised by her, she’s practically your mother.

Sighing softly, you stand up, looking around your room, which Carmilla had provided you a few years back. It was a medium room, larger than the one you had at your father’s place..and Carmilla made sure you had everything you needed. Clothes, a comfortable bed, and desk, food, everything. Right now, it was currently Saturday, so you headed to the kitchen, seeing Carmilla already making breakfast.

“Buenos Dias Hija, how are you?” She asked, serving you a plate of food. As always, the food smells and looks delicious, she really was the best cook you knew.

“Morning..I’m fine..” you say and start to eat. You’ve grown accustomed to her Spanish, she actually taught you how to speak it a few years ago. Odette and Clara woke up soon after, sitting in the living room and flipping the Tv on, like usual, this is how your older sisters started their Saturday mornings.

Turning your attention to the Tv in the living room, taking bites of your breakfast, you saw they were watching Vox’s channel. One of the VVV’s. Carmilla sighed and ignored the tv, she never liked the VVV’s, to her they were respect-less or inane, she never respected them as much as she did to the other overlords.

You watched it with your sisters, seeing he sounded like he was sorta singing? That was normal in hell so you weren’t surprised but…what he was saying caught your attention. “So, the Radio Demon is back in town”

…

…

…

…dad..?

He was back? You stopped eating and moved to the living room, sitting on the couch and watching…oh shit..he’s back..and you felt yourself grow excited that he’s back, wanting to see him, wanting to hug him, but also slight anger with how long he left you.

You stand up and rush to the door, but Carmilla grabbed your arm before you could. “[Name]? Where are you going?” She asked, worried.

“Didn’t you hear the tv! My dad’s back! I need to go see him!” You exclaim excitedly, thinking that Carmilla will be glad for you and let you.

Carmilla tensed and shook her head, eyes widening slightly at the thought of you returning to that man. “No..no my dear..it isn’t safe for you to go with him..”

You look at her, confused. “What..? Why not? He’s my father..” you asked, why was she keeping you from seeing him? She trusted him right? She trusted you right?

“That means nothing…he’s too dangerous and I will not allow him near you” Carmilla narrowed her eyes, and yanked you away from the front door. Carmilla sends a look at Clara and Odette, making them stand up and head to their rooms. “We will not discuss this any further. You are not going out to see him.” Carmilla demands.

You couldn’t believe it, your father finally came back and now Carmilla wasn’t letting you see him? You decided to fight back, not obeying her wishes. “No! He’s my dad! I want to see him! I miss him.” You say and tried to pull your arm out of her grip, but she’s stronger.

“I said we will not be discussing this! That man left you, he is the Radio demon! He is far too dangerous for you to be living with him!” She raised her voice more, usually when she did raise her voice, you’d back down..but not this time. You wanted to see him, you wanted to see your father.

“Let me go!” You yelled back at her, pulling and tugging at her arm, not letting your guard down, not going to give in.

“No! Listen to your mother!” She raised her voice even more, her pupils dilating at your stubborn form, she grits her teeth, her sharp fangs exposed.

“You’re not my mother!” You yell at her without a second thought. Carmilla froze, then she glared down at you. How dare you say that. She is practically your mother, the closest thing you had to one. And here you were, wanting to run back to the father who abandoned you.

Her grip tightens on your arm, she gave you a harsh tug and pulled you closer. “You will not see him. Do you understand?! He is not your father, he is not your parent and you will never see him again!” She snarled. You looked down, starting to tear up. You didn’t want to believe it, but it you knew it was true. “And for your disobedience…” she started, then dragged you upstairs to a room. She pushed you inside, slamming the door and locking it shut from the outside.

You panic and try opening the door, banging and banging on it, begging from the outside to make her let you out. But your cries fell silent on her, her heart hurt for your cries, but she knew you needed to be kept away, she knew you needed to be with her, your her family. And she will make sure it stays that way.

…

…

…

It’s been a few days. You ave been stuck in that room the whole time, crying. You knew Carmilla was protective but not this protective. She did come in and see you, offering you comfort and food. At first you didn’t take the comfort, mad at her still, but you gave in after the first 3 days, you felt so alone.

In her office, Carmilla was gathering and working on some paperwork, when she heard a knock on her front door, she demands one of her hellhounds to answer it, and then they come running back with their tail between their legs.

“Ma’am..it’s the radio demon” they inform. Carmillas eyes narrow. She stands up and thanked the hellhound, making her way to the door.

“Alastor?..Lovely to see you. I see you’ve returned after all that time..how are you?” She stated calmly with false politeness and welcome.

“Ah! Well I was quite busy you know! My business went a little longer than I wanted it to! “He continued to smile and speak in his usual upbeat tone. “Now for why I’m here…I haven’t forgotten about my precious girl, and I am thankful that you have been taking good care of her, but I can take her under my wings again” he said and held his hand out.

Carmilla narrowed her eyes. You were not his precious girl, not anymore. He abandoned you, and she wasn’t going to let that slide. “Actually..she is quite happy here now. She doesn’t wish to go back.” Carmilla stated, standing up tall and looking down at Alastor with a hard glare.

Alastors kept his smile, though a hint of malice was shown. “Oh I don’t think I was asking there Carmine. I want my daughter back.” He said a little more demanding.

“And I say no. You are no longer a guardian in her life. You left her in my hands to raise, and so I did. You are taking one of my children away, a mothers child. Do not come back here again” Carmilla sneered, trying to keep her cool. Alastors eyes narrowed at her.

“Now now, no need to get so pissy, just hand her over and I’ll be out on my way, don’t make me take her from you.” Alastor threats. He wanted to see you again. Sure he left you due to some…business, but he still loved you dearly.

“Leave. Respectfully. I do not want to force you either.” Carmilla placed her clenched hands behind her back, attempting to look more stern and calm. Alastor tried to walk into her house, but Carmilla blocked him, her sharp fangs bared and a glare on her face. “Leave us be.”

Alastor chuckled, angered and irritated. “I didn’t want to do this the hard way darling…” he grabbed his staff (???), and hit it on the ground, weird black tentacle looking things came out of the ground, headed towards Carmilla. Carmilla reacted fast, quick on her feet she dodged and jumped into the air, her angelic shoes sharp, she lands a kick on one of the tentacles, slicing it in half. Alastor sent another source of attack at Carmilla, some green gooish power. Dodging once again, Carmilla aims her attack At Alastor, kicking him harshly, Alastor grunts and gets thrown onto the ground, his mouth and head bleeding, smiling and growling softly he tries to get up, grabbing his staff(??). Bug before he could Carmilla stomped on it with her angelic shoes. Snapping it in half. She placed a leg over Alastors torso, inches away from sinking into it and stabbing him. “You have 10 seconds to leave before I end your pathetic life.” Carmilla sneered with pure venom.

Reluctantly, Alastor faded off, the black goo covering and disappearing while he leaves. “I’ll be back dear” he says before escaping to recover.

Carmilla led out a deep breath. Glaring at the small amount of black goo that was left behind. She looked up at the picture on the wall with you, her, and Clara and Odette.

“I will protect this family …no matter what.”

[motherismotheringggg]

scripted desire

part one

part two out now!!!

summary: based on this request linked here, essentially cooper gets to work his celebrity crush and has to navigate doing a sex scene together

type: cooper koch x fem! reader (i know cooper is gay, this is fiction pooks)

tags/warnings: masturbation (m!), strip tease, mentions is missionary, mentions of f! riding, back and forth between reader POV and Cooper so the reader’s POV is orange other than that i feel like it’s mainly world building

author’s note: im quite literally so sorry this took SO fucking long 😭 i’ve been so busy with work and other stuff!!! you know you’re too busy when you don’t even have time to shitpost like ???? anyway idk why i felt like this should be a two parter, maybe it’s bc im so into writing about the show and the story. anyway, i hope yall like it <3

word count: 5318

tag list: @purple-1995 , @blackynsupremacy , @hoffmansgirl , @sharonusworld , @violetidk

🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬🎬

“The script is incredible honestly, like it just feels electric,” Cooper held his cell phone between his shoulder and ear while slicing the avocado for his toast.

He gushed on and on to his brother Payton about his upcoming role in the new HBO series, set to air late next year - Hard Bodies.

Hard Bodies is a 1980s series set in Miami where small-town gym owner Lionel Vega joins forces with fiery nightclub owner Jade Monroe to dominate the city’s nightlife and fitness scene. As shady back-alley deals and drug-fueled ambitions drive their rise; passion and betrayal threaten to consume them in a whirlwind of love and crime.

“This is gonna be sick,” Payton met his brother’s energy and enthusiasm, “I’m so fucking proud of you Coop! First Monsters and now this - you’re on a fucking roll!”

Cooper’s face flushed with a light pink hue, and he couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “Thanks, man. I mean, it’s HBO! This could be huge for me.”

“And you’re finally working with your dream girl,” Payton added, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Cooper froze for a beat, the knife pausing mid-slice through the avocado. “What do you mean?” he asked, feigning nonchalance.

“What do I mean?” Payton scoffed. “Don’t act like you don’t know who your co-star is, Y/N! Honestly, this is how some of the most romantic couples met so this could be a love story for the ages -”

“Okay, relax,” Cooper cut his brother off, his tone dismissive but the pink on his cheeks deepening to a noticeable red. He resumed his food prep, focusing intently on his task. “It’s not like that. She’s a professional, I’m a professional—”

“Oh, please,” Payton interrupted with a laugh. “You’ve been obsessed with her since that indie movie where she played the violinist. What was it called again?”

“Strings Attached,” Cooper answered automatically, then winced when Payton barked out a laugh.

“Exactly! You’re so not over this.”

“Whatever,” Cooper muttered, spreading the avocado on his toast and avoiding the fact that he’d practically memorized her entire filmography. “The script is electric, and she’s perfect for Jade. It’s literally not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal,” Payton echoed mockingly. “Right. So you’re gonna be completely normal huh? You’re definitely not gonna do that nervous big smile thing when you guys meet at the Ryan’s tomorrow?”

Cooper rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress the flutter of nerves in his stomach. The truth was, he had already spent an embarrassing amount of time imagining their first interaction. Would she even remember his name after introductions, or would he just be the guy playing Lionel?

“I’ll be fine,” he said finally, though his voice wavered slightly.

“You’re gonna melt,” Payton teased. “Mark my words. And if you embarrass yourself, I fully expect you to call me immediately.”

Cooper sighed, pressing his palm to his forehead. “I thought I called you for support?”

“And I do support you - I’m proud of you, I love you and I know you’re gonna bomb meeting her -- bye Coop Coop!!”

As Cooper hung up the call, he stared at his toast, appetite momentarily forgotten. Payton wasn’t wrong. This role was a dream come true—but working with her? That was something else entirely.

He shook his head, trying to shove the thought away. He had a job to do, and he’d be damned if he let a schoolboy crush mess it up. Still, a small, secret smile crept onto his face. Maybe this would be the best year of his life.

----

Pulling into Ryan Murphy’s driveway felt like stepping into a cinematic dream. The sleekly paved path was framed by pristine banks of white pebbles and perfectly manicured shrubbery, each plant standing at attention like they’d been given stage directions. The house itself was a modern masterpiece—clean, sharp lines, vast panes of glass that reflected the sun just right, and an energy that screamed money, power, and taste.

But none of it threw you. If anything, it fueled you. This was exactly the kind of space you were meant to be in.

This wasn’t your first brush with industry bigwigs. You’d navigated enough industry parties and after-hours premieres to recognize the set dressing of wealth. And you’d met Ryan Murphy a handful of times already—enough to know he had a presence that filled a room, even when he wasn’t trying. This time, though, it was different. You weren’t just mingling at a party. You were here because *you belonged here.*

Your chest buzzed with excitement, but your walk to the front door was smooth, each step deliberate. Before you could even knock, the door swung open.

“You must be Y/N,” said a sharply dressed assistant with a smile that looked well-practiced but still warm. “Welcome! Ryan and Cooper are out back. Follow me.”

“Lead the way,” you said, flashing a quick grin. You weren’t about to play small—not here, not now.

The inside of the house was even more stunning than the outside. High ceilings that made every space feel twice as big, sleek furniture that looked like it belonged in a museum, and pops of color so perfectly placed it had to be planned. It was the kind of house people spend their whole lives dreaming of living in, but today it was just another set piece to you.

You followed the assistant, walking with an easy confidence, even letting out a quiet, impressed hum as you glanced up at a massive abstract painting hanging in the hallway.

“Nice art,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but the assistant chuckled.

“Custom piece,” she said, glancing back. “Ryan commissioned it.”

“Of course he did,” you replied, lips quirking into a grin.

The assistant led you through the house, out to the backyard where the sun hit just right, Ryan Murphy stood by the edge of a sleek infinity pool, mid-conversation with another figure, but his eyes flicked over to you as soon as you stepped out. A grin spread across his face like he’d been expecting you all day.

“Y/N!” Ryan beamed, arms outstretched. His energy was just as big and commanding as you remembered, but it still felt personal. “I’m so glad you’re here. Welcome, welcome!”

You stepped in without hesitation, letting him pull you into a light hug. “Thank you for having me,” you said, your voice steady and full of gratitude. “I’m so excited to be here. I’ve been looking forward to this since I got the call.”

“Believe me, we have too,” Ryan said, holding your shoulders for a moment like he was sizing you up, but in a way that felt more approval than judgment. “You’re exactly what we need for Jade. You’ve got the fire.”

You grinned, letting that bit of praise soak in.

Ryan’s eyes shifted to the person standing next to him.

“Have you met Cooper Koch yet?” he asked, motioning to the man just to his right.

Cooper stood tall, his hands in his pockets, gaze flicking between you and Ryan. If the word leading man had a picture next to it, it would be him. Sharp jaw, tousled hair that looked just the right amount of undone, and a frame that made him look like he’d just stepped off the set of a 90s Calvin Klein campaign. But there was something else—a softness to him, a hesitancy that you immediately clocked.

“Hey,” he said, stepping forward to offer his hand, his eyes darting briefly to Ryan like he was double-checking he was doing this right. “Nice to meet you.”

You took his hand, but instead of a simple shake, you tugged him into a quick hug. Not too tight, not too long—just enough to make him feel welcome. He froze for half a second, clearly not expecting it, but he relaxed the moment you patted his back.

“Nice to meet you too, Cooper,” you said, pulling back just in time to catch the faint blush creeping up his neck. Cute.

“Uh—” He cleared his throat, his eyes briefly meeting yours before darting down to his sneakers. “Yeah, I’m—uh, I’m really excited to work with you. I’ve seen some of your films and, uh, they’re amazing.”

“I really appreciate that,” you said, tilting your head slightly, watching the way he shifted on his feet like he wasn’t sure what to do with his hands. Charming in a puppyish way. “I’ve seen some of yours too. You’ve got some serious range. I’m so excited to see what we cook up together.”

Cooper’s lips quirked up into a smile, but he still rubbed the back of his neck like he wasn’t sure how to hold a compliment. “Thanks,” he muttered. “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it too.”

Ryan clapped his hands once, pulling both of your attention back to him. “Alright, alright. Enough love-fest. Let’s sit, get into it, and talk about the show.”

He led you both to a sleek, shaded seating area under a pergola. A pitcher of lemon water and crystal glasses were already waiting, because of course they were. Ryan sat with the air of a king at court, gesturing for you and Cooper to take seats across from him.

“Okay, let’s get into it,” Ryan said, resting his arms on his knees as he leaned forward. “I’m going to walk you through what I’m envisioning for Jade and Lionel. These two are the heart of Hard Bodies, and you’re going to love them. Trust me.”

You leaned forward, eager, every part of you locked in on Ryan’s words.

“Jade is power,” Ryan said, tapping his fingers against his knee. “She’s tough, she’s smart, and she’s relentless. Lionel—” Ryan glanced at Cooper, who sat a little straighter under his gaze. “—Lionel is her foil. He’s calm, thoughtful, but he’s got a lot going on beneath the surface. He’s a slow burn, but when he cracks, he cracks. And that dynamic between the two of them?” Ryan’s eyes flicked between you and Cooper, his gaze as sharp as a spotlight. “That’s where the magic happens.”

You nodded, the fire in your chest burning hotter with every word. You glanced at Cooper, catching the way he was looking down at his hands, nodding to himself like he was already running scenes in his head. He’s got that quiet focus, you thought. This’ll be fun.

“Got it,” you said, locking eyes with Ryan. “I’m ready.”

Ryan grinned. “I like that. You’re gonna be delicious as Jade.”

You smirked, eyes cutting to Cooper as you leaned back in your seat. He smiled, small but steady. His shoulders had relaxed a little, and this time, when your eyes met, he didn’t look away.

Yeah, you thought, this’ll be fun.

----

Since the meeting at Ryan’s house, you and Cooper really found your rhythm. By week three of filming the nerves that had hummed beneath your skin on day one had quieted, replaced with something steadier — confidence, excitement, and maybe a little something extra you hadn’t anticipated.

That extra was Cooper.

You hadn’t expected to click with him as easily as you did. He’d been quiet at first, reserved in a way that read more thoughtful than standoffish. But it didn’t take long for him to open up. It was in the small moments — how he’d quietly offer you his jacket between takes if it got too cold on set, how he’d wait for you at the catering line even if you were behind, or how he'd listen — really listen — whenever you shared an idea about your characters.

It made you feel seen. Really seen.

What you appreciated most, though, was his presence. On days when your nerves got the best of you — when you fumbled a line or felt the pressure of carrying a scene — Cooper was a grounding force. He had this way of calming you with just a look, like he could see right through your facade and was silently telling you, “You’re fine. You’re more than fine.”

On-screen, the two of you were electric. Every scene between Lionel and Jade crackled with energy — love, conflict, tenderness — all of it felt so real that sometimes you’d walk off set still feeling the aftershocks. Off-screen, it was a different kind of magic. The two of you joked constantly, falling into an easy back-and-forth that felt like you’d been friends for years. It wasn’t forced, and it wasn’t something you’d experienced with every co-star. With Cooper, it was effortless.

You loved that.

For you, it felt like a friendship blooming in real time — a friendship that made long days on set feel lighter, and easier. But for Cooper, it was something else entirely.

Where you saw camaraderie, he saw *everything.*

Every time you looked him in the eyes to deliver a line, his chest would tighten just a little more. He swore you looked at him differently when you were in character, like Jade saw all of Lionel, even the parts he didn’t show anyone else. It was devastating in a good way.

Then there was the physical contact. A simple touch, nothing out of the ordinary for actors playing love interests, but every time it happened, it was like the world narrowed to just the two of you. During one scene, you’d cupped his face with both hands, a quiet moment of reconciliation for your characters. The scene called for intimacy, but the way your thumbs had softly brushed against his cheekbones — that wasn’t in the script. And it wrecked him.

His heart swelled, chest tight with an ache he hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just that you were stunning — though, God, you were stunning.

You were sharp and quick-witted, always ready with a comeback. You were thoughtful, checking in on the crew like you’d known them for years. You carried yourself with an effortless kind of grace — not in a “perfect” way, but in a real way, like you knew who you were and didn’t feel the need to prove it.

And Cooper? Cooper was in trouble.

Every scene, every shared glance, every brush of your hands had him falling further. He’d never admit it out loud — not yet, at least. But when you laughed at something he said during a break, your head tilting back, eyes crinkled in a way that made him forget every single one of his lines, he knew he was already gone.

----

It was Saturday night, and filming was running late. You were down to the final seconds of a solo scene where Jade, in full command of her space, moved with precision, power, and grace. The dim glow of neon lights splashed blues and purples across the glossy floor, shadows playing tricks on every surface. Music thumped low in the background — a sultry, hypnotic beat that seemed to sync perfectly with every roll of your hips and grip of your hands on the pole.

This scene had loomed over you since the table read. The words “Jade performs a solo pole routine” stared back at you from the page like a challenge. You’d never done anything like it before, and you knew how easily a scene like this could be reduced to spectacle rather than storytelling. But you were determined to get it right.

Weeks of training had led to this moment. The production hired pole-dancing experts to work with you one-on-one. At first, you’d struggled to even lift yourself off the ground, your muscles burning in protest. But after enough bruises, missteps, and “let’s try that again” moments, you finally felt it — that shift from trying to doing.

And now, you were doing it.

Take one was rough. A missed beat here, a loss of balance there. Ryan called "cut" before you'd made it halfway through. But take two? Take two, you were untouchable.

Your breathing was steady, eyes locked with the camera lens as if it were Jade’s greatest rival. Every movement was deliberate — slow drags of your hand down the pole, a spin that left your hair floating behind you, and a perfectly timed back arch that made you look weightless. You didn’t just look like you knew what you were doing. You looked like you’d done it a thousand times before.

Own the room. That’s what the pole instructors had told you. And you did. God, you did.

On the sidelines, Cooper sat in his labeled actor’s chair by the monitors completely consumed by you and your scene. At first, he was watching for the sake of it — just a castmate supporting you like you always supported him. But somewhere between your first spin and the moment you gripped the pole, leaned back, and flipped your hair over your shoulder, his chest tightened.

His eyes tracked your every step, every subtle shift of your weight, completely captivated. His lips parted unconsciously, breath caught in his chest as you delivered the moment you’d been directed to — a sultry, deliberate gaze straight into the camera. But it was when you reached the edge of the stage, your back to the lens, flipping your hair over your shoulder with a slow, precise motion, and hinging at the hips to elongate your legs, that he felt his restraint slipping. Heat pooled low in his stomach, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't will away the growing tension in his sweatpants.

He tried to convince himself it was just admiration for your craft — appreciation for the sheer dedication you poured into the role. And it was. You were brilliant, commanding every inch of the stage like it had always belonged to you. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the thought creeping in the back of his mind.

He wished it was his character in that chair. The one lucky enough to be the focus of your gaze, the slow drag of your fingertips down his expansive chest, the weight of you settling on his lap like a claim had been staked. His hands gliding down your sides, firmly settling on your hips before gripping your ass with a possessive squeeze. He pulled back just long enough to deliver a sharp slap, only to seize another handful with equal intensity. The thought struck him hard and fast, leaving a dull ache in his chest that spread lower. Every roll of your hips had him gripping the edge of his chair, trying to keep his breathing steady. It wasn't just the choreography — it was you. Your presence filled the room, magnetic and impossible to look away from.

His jaw tensed as you leaned forward on the stage, your eyes flickering to the camera like it was a lover you had under your thumb. But Cooper didn’t see the camera. He saw himself, head tipped back, breath caught in his throat as you loomed over him. The image hit him so vividly he had to shift in his seat, hoping no one noticed the heat crawling up the back of his neck.

He knew it was unprofessional, he knew he should be focused on the craft, the art, the performance. But it wasn’t just the role anymore. It was you — the way you embodied every inch of Jade like a second skin, a perfect blend of power and seduction. He wanted to know what it felt like to be on the receiving end of it. To be the one under your spell, just for a moment.

His fingers twitched on his thigh, pressing down hard as if to ground himself. It didn’t work. His mind was already gone, caught in the spiral of what-ifs and could-bes. What if you touched him like that — not as Jade, not as an act, but as yourself? What if you leaned in just a little closer, lips at his ear, fingers curled into his collar to pull him forward?

He shifted again, glancing around like the guilt might be written all over his face. No one was looking his way. But even if they had been, it wouldn’t have mattered. His gaze was locked on you, completely and utterly trapped.

Every slow turn of your body, every flash of your eyes, every deliberate move of your hips — it was torture, plain and simple. The kind of torture he’d willingly endure if it meant you’d look at him just once the way you did the camera.

God, he needed to get a grip.

“Cut! Beautiful, that’s a wrap on Y/N!” Ryan called, his voice jolting Cooper like a splash of cold water.

He blinked hard, shaking himself out of it. Around him, crew members applauded, grips already moving to adjust the set for the next shoot. But Cooper’s eyes didn’t leave you. You stepped away from the pole, beaming from ear to ear from the adoration of everyone. A production assistant met you as you were walking off-set with a parka coat and a bottle of water as you headed toward the monitors to look over the scene with Ryan.

You were approaching Cooper, still ecstatic, he wanted to stand to give you a hug but all the blood, currently still rushing to his throbbing self was preventing him from doing so.

“Holy shit,” you said, walking toward him with an excited grin still lingering on your face. “That was incredible.”

Cooper fumbled with his words, his tongue suddenly too big for his mouth. He could feel a sheen of sweat forming on his forehead, and it wasn’t from the studio lights. For the love of God, Cooper, get it together, he scolded himself, swallowing hard. After a beat, he found his voice again.

“You were incredible, Y/N,” he said with more conviction, leaning forward a bit. “Like, truly amazing. I mean it.”

His sincerity made your heart swell with appreciation. Without a second thought, you leaned in to hug him. You knew he was still sitting down, but it didn’t matter. His praise hit differently—partly because it came from a castmate, but also because it came from Cooper. Someone whose work you genuinely admired.

“Thank you,” you said softly, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you pressed in close.

Cooper did that thing he always hated—where a hug catches him off guard, and he freezes like a deer in headlights. But this time, he was quick to recover. His arms circled your waist with more certainty, holding you close. Warmth spread through his chest, and for a moment, everything around him fell away. No cameras. No set. Just you.

He let himself sink into it, arms tightening a little more like he could hold on forever if he had the chance. His fingers brushed against the small of your back, and he felt you breathe, steadily and calmly. He took a slow inhale, and you smelled like cherries—sweet and fresh, as you'd just bitten into the fruit. Cherries. How was he supposed to forget that now?

His mind drifted. For one dangerous second, he wondered what it would feel like to press his face into the curve of your neck. To stay here a little longer. He was so caught up in you that he almost missed it—the sharp realization of just how close you were. His breath hitched. His entire body went taut like a wire pulled too tight.

His heart dropped as he realized the problem. Oh, no. No, no, no.

If you shifted even an inch— just an inch —you’d feel it. His body’s very inconvenient, very undeniable reaction to you.

Panic started to set in. He thought about pulling back, but how? Hug too long, and it’s weird. Pull away too fast, and it’s suspicious. His heart was beating so hard now he was sure you could hear it. His arms stiffened around your waist, a dead giveaway. She’s gonna notice. She’s definitely gonna notice.

His brain went into overdrive, mapping out a hundred ways to escape, none of them good. He couldn’t move without making it worse. His fingers twitched against your back as he tried to think of a solution. Don’t freak out. If you freak out, she’s definitely gonna know. Just breathe.

But before his spiral could hit rock bottom, a voice rang out from across the set.

“Alright, guys, let’s bring it in!” Ryan called, clapping his hands for attention. “We’re wrapping for the night but I wanna chat with everyone.”

You pulled away, completely unaware of the war going on in Cooper’s head. You smiled at him, bright and grateful. “Come on, partner,” you said, giving him a playful tug on his arm.

He blinked at you, still half-stuck in his haze of panic, but he followed your lead. His body was still tense, still buzzing from the aftershock of it all, but he managed to give you a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, partner,” he echoed, dragging himself out of his head. Get it together, man. Seriously.

Ryan gathered everyone around, his voice cutting through the low hum of crew chatter. “Alright, great work today, everyone. Things are moving along smoothly, and I appreciate all of you for that,” he said, his eyes scanning the group with a satisfied grin. “Tomorrow, we’re shooting the shop scenes in the morning, so check your call times. Also…” He glanced at his clipboard, tapping it with his pen. “Our intimacy coordinator, Anna Hansen, will be on set to work with Y/N and Cooper for the bedroom scene.”

You nodded enthusiastically, unbothered, already mentally preparing yourself. This was part of the job—no big deal. But Cooper’s nod was slower, stiffer. He was mirroring you, or at least trying to, but his heart had dropped straight into his stomach. Oh, right. The sex scene.

He hadn't forgotten about it—he couldn't forget—but hearing it announced like that made it feel more real. No longer a far-off, abstract idea on the call sheet. No, this was happening. Tomorrow. With you. Close to you. Closer than he’d ever been. Closer than he’d ever allowed himself to imagine. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. He had imagined it—but not like this. Not with cameras, choreography, and a whole crew watching.

And now, that quiet yearning he’d always managed to keep on a leash had slipped free, leaving him raw and unsteady. He could fake it. He had to. It’s just acting. But no amount of rehearsal could have prepared him for the storm brewing in his chest.

----

Later that night, Cooper was sprawled on his bed, the script spread out in front of him like it was the key to his survival. His gaze was glued to the page, his fingers absently running over the edges as he read and reread every line. He was meticulous, trying to memorize every movement, every word, because he had to get it right. He couldn’t afford to mess this up. He had done nudity and sex scenes before, but this time felt different. This time, it was you.

He couldn't quite put his finger on why, but everything about you had him tangled in knots. The way you moved so effortlessly, the quiet confidence you exuded without even trying—it was magnetic. He had seen you on screen, but being in the same room as you, sharing the same space had only made his admiration for you grow deeper. And now, the thought of being so close to you in such an intimate scene… it had his pulse racing and his stomach churning.

His body felt conflicted—he wanted to be professional, to focus on the art, but the thought of the scene tomorrow, of the moment when his body would be so close to yours, was making it impossible to think straight. He needed to know what to expect, to have every detail mapped out, so he could control his reactions, avoid any embarrassment. If the script said "Jade straddles Lionel in a kiss," he'd know how to prepare for it, anticipate the movement, and adjust himself. If it said "Jade nibbles at Lionel’s ear," he'd be ready—not to react with a breathy moan, or worse, to let his body betray him in front of you.

He kept reading, his heart hammering in his chest as he came across a line he hadn't fully processed before: "In missionary, Jade’s breasts pressed against Lionel’s face." His breath caught in his throat. HOLY SHIT. He’d forgotten that detail, or maybe he had blocked it out. Now that it was right there on the page, staring him in the face, the weight of it hit him hard. His cheeks burned, his body suddenly stiff, as the reality of what was about to happen sank in. He leaned back against the headboard, a sigh of frustration escaping him. His mind raced. How could he focus on professionalism when all he could think about was being in that moment, in that scene, with you?

Cooper took a shaky breath, trying to will his thoughts back into control, but his mind wandered. He couldn't stop thinking about how you looked in today’s last scene —how stunning you were in that glittery lingerie, the way the heels elongated your legs, the way your hair cascaded around your shoulders in sexy curls.

The image of you in that moment haunted him, the desire for you building in his chest until it felt suffocating. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to push the thoughts aside, but it was no use. The more he tried to focus on the script, the more he imagined how it would feel to be that close to you.

His mind started to wander into dangerous territory—what if he could imagine it? If he pictured it, maybe he could control his body’s reaction during the actual shoot. His thoughts spiraled, his breathing shallow.

Before he realized what was happening, his hand had slipped below the covers, instinctively rubbing over the fabric of his boxers. His breath hitched as he thought of you—your voice, your scent, the way you looked in that scene earlier today, your glittery lingerie, the heels that elongated your legs, your big, sexy curls. It drove him wild.

His body reacted before his mind could catch up, and he felt his breath quicken. His hand, almost of its own accord, sliding into his boxers. As he imagined what it would be like to plant hot wet kisses on your neck while he’s on top of you, thrusting into you as you moaned his name.

His mind became consumed with the desire to feel you, feel your hips rock on top of him when you rode him, your breast with perky nipples bouncing up and down. His hand moved over himself, slowly at first, his breaths growing shallow as the image of you continued to play in his head. The thought of being with you overwhelmed him.

Cooper squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to pull himself together, but his body wasn’t listening. The pressure was building, and with a quiet, desperate moan mixed with the faint utterance of your name, he let go. His warm cum spilling from his tip and cascading down his hand.

He lingered in the aftermath, trying to catch his breath, but all he could think about was tomorrow. How the hell was he going to make it through that scene without his body betraying him? He sat up, wiping the sweat from his brow, his heart still racing. His mind was a whirlwind, full of you—how you moved, how you smelled, how you made him feel. It was going to be a long day tomorrow. A very long day.

Cooper sighed, getting up to wash his hands, brush his teeth, and try to settle himself for the night. Tomorrow was going to be difficult, to say the least.

[haveyouanytime]

Rick Grimes age gap smut plz?

rick grimes smut | minors + ageless blogs dni! cw: age gap (rick is in his early 40s, reader is 20), cunnilingus, penetrative sex, a bit of plot!

bye i was so nervous writing this i've never written smut before !! it’s so jarring to just say certain words but it’s embarrassing to use wattpad words ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡ and i'm so so sorry this took so long anon!!!

౨ৎ daily click to help palestine 🍉

Ever since you had found yourself in the prison after being saved from Woodbury, your eyes have always been finding themselves on Rick Grimes. You always admired him from afar as he was always busy with something-- farming with his son, balancing his daughter on his hip, talking with his friends, etc. 

The community wasn’t as visually appealing and vibrant as before in Woodbury, but the difference was noticeable with how friendly everyone truly was. Before, it was a taste of suburban life with the amount of gossip and cliques, but now it wasn’t foreign for everyone to sit at the picnic benches and eat the dinner Carol served. Tonight you sat with Tyreese and his sister, Sasha, since they had become good friends of yours. With just your luck, a few others came to join, including Rick. 

You let the others lead the conversation, falling into a timid position with her gaze on your bowl and a flutter in your heart. But as you listened to the active conversation, your eyes wandered over to Rick. You admired his dark brown hair that fell into waves down past his ears, his scruff that fell below his cheekbone and framed his jawline, and his eyes that matched the sky on a clear, sunny day. He picks at his plate as he listens from his spot down and across the table, his eyes flickering due to the itching feeling he felt of being watched. 

His baby blue eyes caught your observations, meeting yours and making your breath stop and heart race. Your eyes widen and you pretend that your bowl is of much more interest, but his eyes stay on you for a few more seconds. Not long after, you excused yourself and your half-eaten bowl, deciding to call it a night before anyone noticed your and Rick’s interaction or how your cheeks burned afterward. 

After dinner, you went up to one of the empty watch towers. It was always empty and had become one of your favorite spots for peace and quiet. You always left a few blankets up here for the nights you wanted to sleep looking at the stars, and tonight you a few of them out with the same intentions. You sighed while looking up at the dark sky, trying to wash away any nerves you felt during the dinner, but baby blue eyes always seemed to pop back into your memory. 

Suddenly, there was the sound of the door creaking open and boots clicking against the cold concrete floor. You turned, seeing the man that consumed your thoughts. You swallowed the lump in your throat, giving him a soft smile. “Hi.” 

He gives a small grin back, slowly walking towards you with his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Hey. I, uh… I always see you up here. I was wonderin’ if you wouldn’t mind some company.” 

“I don’t mind.” You take a step over, letting him stand beside you. He mimics your position, leaning forward and resting his forearms against the flat surface of the open window. A silence falls over you two, only the sounds of trees brustling in the distance, faint chatter of people still having dinner, and the faint groans of walkers that you push aside internally. 

“If you don’t mind me askin’,” He slowly starts, interrupting the serene silence with his deep Southern drawl, “Why were you starin’ at me durin’ dinner?” 

You tense up, hesitating. You can’t seem to look at him, but a wave of confidence washes over you as you answer with a soft voice, “Well… I guess… because I like you.” 

He seems just as caught off guard as you were before, and you can feel his gaze turn to you and trace along your profile. He clicks his tongue, shaking his head as his gaze falls to his forearms that lean against the open window. “I dunno. Ain’t you a bit… young for me?” 

“I don’t think so.” You softly respond, turning to face him and watching his reaction with a gentle gaze. A part of you was hoping he wouldn’t have brought it up-- you weren’t dumb, you knew you were barely 20 while he was in his 40s. “Does it matter?” 

He raised an eyebrow, a scoff passing his lips like an airy laugh, “Well, of course, it matters. You’re not mature enough. What would people say about me with a girl that’s young enough to be with my daughter? How would they know you’re the one who made the first move if they see me walking around with a girl half my age?” “Don’t say that. I’m not a baby. I’m an adult. I’m mature.” Your brows furrow, your hands moving to toy with the hem of your shirt, “And it doesn’t matter what they think. People talk and gossip, but if they’re honest, they’ll ask for the truth.” 

He stares into your eyes, a sigh laced with frustration huffing from his nose. “Look. This ain’t right. It ain’t normal. And I can’t be seen as one of those old men who chase after girls like you.” 

Your lips press together as his words echo in your mind. Rick can’t tear his eyes away from yours, especially as your sadness was evident in the way they twinkled with the moonlight. “You… you really don’t see anything with me?” 

His frown deepens, shaking his head as his gaze turns back to his hands. “No. Not like that. Look, I’m not gonna lie-- sometimes, I think you’re attractive. But… it’s just… I’m so much older than you. How could this ever work out?” 

You think, your eyes flickering back out towards the tree-covered horizon as you pull your bottom lip between your teeth. When you do finally speak, you turn your gaze back towards him with your voice soft, barely above a whisper, “If you can’t give in and see anything with me, then just give in one night. That’s all I’m asking for.” 

He hesitates, his eyes slowly wandering back to you and down to your lips. You were persistent, that was for sure. "What if I agree to it? What then? Where would this one night lead to?

“I don’t know.” You softly answer, your brows furrowed slightly. “If you still don’t want anything with me after, I’ll leave you alone. Please, just… give me one chance.” 

He sighs, running a hand through his dark hair. The offer was tempting, he could admit that, especially as he searched for gaze for any sign of malice behind your offer. Instead, he got lost in your beauty, reminding himself of every reason he fell for you in the first place. “Alright. You get your one night. That’s it. Deal?” 

You only nod in response, your words caught in your throat as your confidence from before disappears at his agreement. Rick suddenly takes a step closer, pulling you into his arms. Your lips parted in surprise as you softly gasped, your hands pressed against his chest. “If we’re doing this, it has to be special. That’s all I’m saying. It can’t be some ordinary fling. I ain’t your average 40-year-old dad, you know me. I’ll make sure you never forget me.”

His hand travels down to your hip, his hand slipping under the hem of your shirt so his fingers lightly brush against your skin. His voice is low, a smirk pulling the corner of his lips as he continues, “How does that sound, sweetheart?  A night to remember?” 

You nod again, your eyes flickering back and forth from his eyes to his lips. You whisper, “Please…” Rick leans in, closing the gap between you two. As your lips finally connected, he couldn’t help but admit to himself how much he enjoyed it. Your soft lips, your gentle touch, the way you leaned into him; he felt something stirring within him, an itching feeling he couldn’t give you up after one night. 

You felt yourself melt into the kiss, his lips against yours being just as you had imagined it so many times before. His hands wander to the curve of your waist, his palms against your skin as the fabric bunches up at his wrists. Just as you feel yourself beginning to get lost in the touch of his lips and hands, his mouth slowly trailed down to your jawline, placing warm kisses down to your neck. His breath is hot against your skin, each kiss sending a shiver down your spine. 

You can’t stop yourself from letting out a soft, airy moan, your brows furrowing as you grip his biceps. His hand moves to your back, the other moving to the back of your thighs. He helps you down so you lie on your back atop the blankets you had left before, a small shiver running down your spine as the blankets were cold against the concrete floor. He brushes his fingers along your arms to feel the goosebumps that formed, moving so he knelt between your legs. 

“Relax, darlin’. Let me take care of you.” He lowly spoke, his blue eyes twinkling with the moonlight that peeked in through the window. He helps you slide your boots off, then your jeans. He groans at the sight of just the thin fabric covering your center, his hands slowly sliding up from your calf to your knee. He kneels before you, slowly spreading your legs apart with his large hands on your kneecaps. 

You whimper as the cold air nips at your exposed skin, his hands warm against your legs. He leans down, placing soft kisses on the inside of both your knees before slowly trailing them down your thighs, his stubble brushing against your soft skin. He kissed your mound through your panties, getting a small taste of your wetness and making you softly moan. Your hand moved to rest in his dark hair as he made out with your pussy, sending vibrations as he groaned into the thin cloth separating his mouth and your folds. 

His hands crept up as he continued, sliding under the hem on either side of your hips to slowly work the white fabric down your legs. He groaned lowly at the sight of your wet pussy, discarding your panties haphazardly as he leaned in to kiss along the crevices of your thighs. You whimpered in response, your legs tightening slightly as he purposefully avoided your aching cunt. It quickly turned into a loud moan and a tug at his roots, however, as he finally leaned in, tracing a line with his tongue up your folds. 

He began to suck on your clit, his nose pressing against your abdomen as he kneaded his fingers into your soft thighs to keep them spread. His blue eyes kept their burning gaze on yours, watching and enjoying every reaction you gave. You had had boyfriends in the past, a few in college who showed you a good time-- but God, they hardly were boys compared to the man between your legs. 

You whined, covering your mouth with your hand as he wrapped his arms around your legs, keeping them spread and preventing any writhing. You were slowly reaching your orgasm, your back arching and your chest rising and falling in staccatos with your shallow breathing as the muscles in your thighs tensed under your grasp. Just as you feel the band snap within your abdomen and your head falls back against the blankets as you moan, lewd slurping noises fill the room as Rick devoured like a man starved. 

You panted, catching your breath as you came down from your high, as you felt Rick begin to kiss up your stomach. He pushed up your shirt, helping you slip it off over your head. You sat up, your hands working on undoing the buttons on his shirt from the bottom up. Your hands brushed against his chest as you did, and as he pushed the beige fabric off his shoulders, you sighed at the sight. He had soft muscles, the fair skin covered in a bit of hair, especially his upper chest. 

But the one thing that pulled your attention away from his body or looking up to admire his face again was the strain you saw in his dark jeans. Your hands moved to undo his belt, the clinking sound adding to the tension and excitement between the two of you. With your bottom lip between your teeth, you undid his button and zipper, helping him push his pants and boxers off, exposing him to you. You take him in your hand and stroke, making him groan as he felt heavy and warm in your hand. Just as you move down to take him into your mouth, his hand moves to cup the side of your face. 

“No, no, can’t wait any longer, darlin’.” He grunts, leading you again so you lie on your back. Now he laid atop you, allowing him to connect your lips again. You moved to unclip your bra, slipping it off and tossing it somewhere in the room. Now, as you wrapped your arms around his neck to kiss him back with just as much fervor, you whimpered as you felt your sensitive buds press against his chest. He couldn’t help but move his hips as you made out, pushing his cock between your folds and against your clit. 

You whined against his lips, tugging lightly on the dark hairs at the nape of his neck, “Please, Rick, stop teasing…” 

He quickly gave in, placing one kiss on your cheek before leaning onto his elbow, using his free hand to adjust himself so he pressed against your entrance. He slowly pushed in, watching your reaction. You whimpered and softly moaned, grabbing onto his back as you adjusted to the feeling of him inside you. Your soft noises mixed with his panting, echoing in the empty watchtower as he slowly began to move his hips back. 

He groaned as he found a slow rhythm, his hands moving to the back of your knees to hold your legs spread apart. He felt your nails scratch along his biceps, your head thrown back to expose your neck to him. Taking advantage of that, he leaned in, placing warm kisses and small bites along your neck. You both were intoxicated by the feeling of one another, not caring about a single thing other than being together and moving in a slow rhythm. 

As you felt your orgasm begin to approach again, your whimpers turned into moans as you clung to Rick. He grunted at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, one of his hands moving so his thumb rubbed against your clit. You gasped and moaned at the added stimulation, quickly becoming undone around Rick. As you moaned and clawed at his back, your back arching off the blankets as the band in your abdomen snapped again. 

“Fuck, darlin’,” Rick moaned, watching as you came under him. Just the sight alone pushed him closer to his orgasm, making him pick up the pace of his hips slightly as he chased the feeling. The quickening pace mixed with the feeling of your passing orgasm made you whimper, overstimulation making you feel fuzzy around Rick’s cock moving in and out of your passage. 

He grunted as he quickly pulled himself out, finishing on your abdomen. He panted, his blue eyes stuck on the image before him-- you lying in a dazed, angelic state. He grabbed one of the unused blankets, wiping your abdomen before tossing it away. He sighed, moving so he lay down beside you on his back. 

As you both softly panted, staring up at the plain gray ceiling of the watchtower. It was silent again, save for the sound of nature and gravel underfoot in the distance. You turned over, looking into his blue eyes again, whispering, “Stay the night?” He nodded, giving a small smile while not moving as you grabbed a blanket, pulling over you two. He pulled you into his side, letting you tuck your head against his chest. Just as you lay beside him, soft and warm, he knew he couldn’t give you up after one night.

[harringtonstilinski]

Armageddon It - Eddie Munson (Smut)

Author: @harringtonstilinski​ Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader Word Count: 6,537 Warnings: fluff, squint super hard for angst, mentions of a jealous chrissy, Requested: no | yes; i'm gonna say yes on this. it's really a challenge i'm doing with @stevesxyellowxsweater! Smut (Minors DNI): no | yes, 18+; oral (f receiving), protected m+f, let me know if i missed anything A/N: Hi, friends! After about 4 or so months of writing, SHE'S FINALLY HERE!! Also, The Upside Down doesn't exist in this, bye! If you like this, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox. As always, read at your own risk and enjoy 😊

eddie munson masterlist

eddie munson playlist

“Edward Wayne!!”

A smirk crossed your friend's face, his eyes never leaving the neck of his Sweetheart, his guitar. “Yes?”

Your body stood in the doorway of his room, a boisterous laughter coming from the living room. “You’re in fucking trouble.”

“Why is Wayne laughing?” He won’t lie, it was nice hearing his uncle laughing like he was. Eddie hadn’t heard him laugh like that in a long time.

“Because you’re in fucking trouble.”

Chuckling, he set his guitar down. “Okay, sweets. What’s up?”

“Can you please tell me why the hell everyone at that godforsaken video store has asked me about your hips?” Crossing your arms, you gave him the most seriously stern face you could muster, leaning your weight on one of your legs, an eyebrow raised.

Wayne laughed harder, which made Eddie cackle, his head thrown back. “And how were my hips?”

“Eddie!” you chastised. “What the fuck?” Holding your arms out to the side, you scoffed. “Do you realize what people are insinuating?”

“That we’ve had sex?”

“Hey now!” Wayne said. “Let’s not talk like that.” You heard a small squeak before the front door opened. “I’ll sit on the porch if you wanna have that talk.” He chuckled on his way out.

Sitting on his bed with your back facing Eddie, you sighed and dropped your head into your hands. “Eddie! We can’t have people thinking we’re fucking. It’s not right.”

A sort of sad look crossed Eddie’s features, his eyes casting downward, looking at a random spot on the back of your shirt. “I’m sorry, sweets.”

Sighing again, you removed your hands, turning to bring your leg up on the bed, bending it at the knee. Looking at Eddie with a somber look, you took his features. Bringing up a hand, you cupped his cheek, his eyes casting up to look into yours. “It’s okay. I wasn’t expecting it. It literally took me by surprise.”

“Just so you know,” Eddie said, seriousness in his eyes. “I didn’t start that rumor. It had to have been someone else.”

Thinking it over for a moment, you wracked your brain about who could’ve started the rumor, coming to the conclusion with a sigh, dropping your hand to a hard but soft surface as you closed your eyes. “Fucking Cunningham.”

“Chrissy started that rumor?”

Standing from his bed, you started pacing the length of the mattress, hands in your hair. “Jealous fucking ex is what she is. God, I can’t stand her. We’ve been out of school for, what? Two years?”

“You’ve been out for two, I’ve been out for one.”

“Whatever! Gah- I can’t believe she’d want to spread a rumor like that! Who does she think she is?! Miss fucking Priss, is what she is!” You were ranting so fast and almost way too loud that you didn’t notice Eddie standing in front of you until you felt hands on your shoulders, stopping your pacing.

“Hey. Sweets. Calm down. She’s just jealous. She broke up with me because I was apparently spending more time with you than her, remember?” Eddie said, bringing up his hand to brush some hair behind your ear. “No need to freak out.”

“I’m trying,” you sighed. “It’s just hard because I’ve done nothing to her and she’s just… her.”

“Jealous.”

“Hey, kids!” Wayne called out. “You two hungry? It’s almost dinner time.”

Looking off to the side, you thought about it for a moment, realizing that you haven’t eaten in a while. “Yeah, I could eat.” You looked at Eddie, shrugging before turning to walk back down the hallway to the kitchen where Wayne was now standing. “What’cha cooking up, Wayne?”

“Oh, I was thinking of either some burgers or some tacos,” Wayne answered, looking into the refrigerator.

Lightly gasping, your eyes went wide. “Can I help make whatever? I mean, I can actually make whichever one for you.”

“Oh, darlin-”

“Nope,” you said, stepping up to him, placing a hand on his back. “You do a lot for Eddie.”

Wayne grabbed the pack of ground meat from the fridge, placing it on the counter. “You too, darlin’. Don’t forget that.”

“When I’m here. Let me help. Please? You can kick your feet up, watch some tv, drink a beer or two. Just relax, Wayne, please. For me?” You gave him your best puppy dog eyes, bottom lip poking out.

The older Munson man just chuckled, reopening the fridge to grab a beer, tilting it at you with that Munson smirk. “You got it. Make whichever one you want. I’m good with either one of them.” Smiling, you said, “Okay,” as your eyes watched him walk to his chair, kicking the foot rest up and deeply sighing. “Eddie!”

“Yes?”

Jumping at how close his voice was, you turned to face him, hand up at your sternum. “Don’t do that.”

“Sorry,” he quietly laughed. “What’s up, sweets?”

“Hamburgers or tacos?” Not waiting for him to answer, you turned on your heel to the cabinet where you knew the spices were kept, humming when you didn’t see any taco seasoning. “Shit. We need taco seasoning.”

“I was gonna say hamburgers, but tacos works, too,” Eddie said, Wayne holding up his beer to add, “I was gonna say the same thing!”

Grabbing your keys from the small kitchen table, you sighed, “You Munson men. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll go with you. Wayne, care if I go with her?”

“Nope. Just don’t get into trouble,” Wayne replied, eyes glued to the tv that was already on when you had arrived.

“Awesome,” Eddie smiled, turning his head to watch your retreating form move to your car. “Thanks, Wayne.” He quickly walked out of the trailer, calling out your name, your head turning at the sound of his voice. “Let’s take the van. I feel like a giant in your tiny ass car.”

Shaking your head, you snickered, moving around both your car and his van to reach the passenger side door, finding it already open for you, Eddie standing there with his hand out to help you in.

“M’lady.”

“You’re such a dork,” you softly laughed. Once he closed the door and moved around the vehicle, you buckled yourself in, looking at his collection of metal tapes lying everywhere on the van’s floor. When you found one you knew he bought for you, you picked it up and held it up.

“I’m not listening to Pyromania again.”

“It’s not that one. It is Def Leppard, though.”

Eddie sighed, taking the tape from your hand to read the title of the album, looking at you with small distaste. 

“Oh, come on! It has like three of my favorite songs on it!”

“Name them,” he said, turning the case over to look at the track listing on the back.

“Love Bites, Hysteria, and Pour Some Sugar On Me.”

He looked at you for a moment before sighing, “Fuck,” and putting the tape in after ejecting the Dio album he was listening to. Once the songs started to play and you were happy, he backed out of the small front yard to the small bit of road the trailer park provided to drive toward town. “So, I was thinking about something.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shut up,” he chuckled. “About this rumor. Maybe we should… I don’t know, put it to bed and make it true?”

If you were drinking something, you’d for sure either choke on it or spit it out all over your part of the dashboard. “What?”

“Let’s do it! Let’s make the rumor true.”

“Well, damn, Munson, now every time we hang out, I’m gonna anticipate it.”

“Good,” he said, smirking to himself. He pulled into the parking lot of the local grocery store, the both of you getting out and walking side by side into the store.

As you walked through the aisles, you picked up what you thought you’d need for your meal; taco shells, sour cream, tomatoes to dice up, green onion to chop for garnish and cheese. Once everything was in your arms, you both dropped them onto the conveyor belt at the checkout counter to pay.

Eddie insisted on paying for everything with his ‘business money’, but you told you got it and for him to not worry about it, that it was your treat. When you paid and got your paper bags from the cashier, you both loaded back up in the van and drove back to the Munson trailer.

“Wayne! We’re… back,” you said, looking at Wayne’s sleeping form. You felt Eddie’s chest crash into your back, a hand on your shoulder.

“Sweets, wha–” Eddie started.

“Shut up, Wayne fell asleep.”

Eddie looked at his uncle, seeing that he was indeed sleeping. He walked into the kitchen as quietly as he could, setting the bags down on the counter to take the items out of the bag. Just as you set the bag from your hands on the counter, Eddie had turned toward the fridge, taking the pack of protein from its spot on the cold shelf to set it on the counter.

“If you’re gonna be in here with me while I cook, I need your hair up and out of your face,” you said, taking half of your own hair to secure it with a hair tie you always had on your wrist. After tightening the hair tie, you gave Eddie a stern look as he perched himself onto the counter.

“Alright. Do you have an extra hair tie?” he asked, lacing his fingers together to rest them in between his knees.

“Eddie, you have a million floating around here.”

“Yeah, but none of them are yours.” He gave you a cheeky grin with a wink.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, turning on your heel to walk into the shared bathroom. Right there on the counter was the hair tie you had left a couple of days prior. Sighing exasperatedly, you grabbed it and exited the bathroom, only to be met with Eddie’s hair being tied into a low bun at the nape of his neck, the younger Munson man moving around the stove. “Wha– I was gonna do that!”

“Quiet, love,” he murmured. “Don’t wanna wake Wayne up.” At the mention of his uncle, you both heard a small snore coming from the living room, quiet snickers coming from both of you once you looked at each other.

“Okay,” you said, quietly. “We need to try and be quiet. Which is gonna be… a challenge considering that when you cook ground meat– Eddie!”

As you were trying to explain to him about being quiet, he went ahead and started cooking, the sizzle from the meat growing louder with every passing second.

“It’s okay, sweets. I do this all the time. He’ll wake up when one of two things happen; I wake him up by simply saying it’s ready, or he’ll wake up on his own accord when the noises die out.”

“So, you’ve done this before?” you asked, generously curious.

Eddie looked at you, his eyes softer than what you’ve ever seen. “Every night.”

“Wow,” you whispered. “I never knew that.”

“You always dip out before when I ask about you staying.”

Following your instincts, you walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his middle, your cheek pressed to his back. “That’s amazing of you, Eds. But I like this side of you.”

He turned his head over his shoulder, letting you know that he was still engaged in the conversation. “What side?”

“Domestic,” you replied, slightly smiling. “Super kind, even though I knew that. Always thinking of others, putting them before yourself.”

“And how do you figure that last one?”

“Putting others before yourself?”

“Yeah.”

“You just… put their needs before your own. I can’t describe it. You’re just… not what people say you are.”

“A freak?”

“Well,” you said, moving to stand beside him, your arms still around his waist as his own arm went around your shoulders. “You are a freak, but… they say you’re mean and scary, but you’re just… not. You’re kind and thoughtful. You’re always willing to help those who need it, even if other people can’t see that. You have an amazing heart. You’re helping Wayne out with money, even if I don’t totally agree with it.”

Eddie snickered, neither of you realizing that your soft voices roused Wayne from his small sleep, the man unmoving as he listened in. “Yeah, well, I’ve had help in that department.”

“No, no. You’ve always done that, even before I came along.”

Hugging you tighter to his side, he slightly smiled at you, looking into your beautiful eyes that he always got lost in. “You’ve made me want to be a better person.”

You smiled and looked at the cooking meat in the pan, taking the spatula from his hand, breaking the meat up a little more while flipping and stirring it to make sure all the pink was gone from it. “Tell me more, Eds. This soft side of you is one of my favorite sides you show.”

“What’s the other?” He was more than curious about this turn of conversation.

“Your Dungeon Master side.” You reluctantly removed yourself from his hold to grab the strainer from the lower cabinet, placing it inside the sink before taking the pan from the stove to pour the meat into it. Waiting just a couple of minutes before putting it back into the pan, you gathered the other ingredients for the meal, mixing the seasoning packet with the amount of water it needed.

Eddie leaned against the corner of the counter, crossing his arms, watching you work this time. “You like it when I play Dungeon Master?”

Nodding in response, you placed the meat and seasoning mixture back into the pan, the sizzle sounding through the trailer once more. “Yup. That’s part of your element and I love seeing that. I love seeing–”

“Go to Benny’s with me.”

Looking at him with furrowed brows, you were utterly confused. “Now? Eddie, we’re cook–”

“No, no, not tonight,” he said, shaking his hands. “Saturday. Let me take you–”

“On a date?” you asked, your eyebrows shooting into your hairline. “You wanna take me on a date?”

“Yeah, why not? Let’s start putting that rumor to bed on Saturday.”

Thinking about what he said previously about putting the rumor to bed, your brows softened, a mischievous smile crossing your lips. “Alright. Let’s do it.”

The both of you finished cooking the tacos, as well as cutting the toppings up in sync with each other. It amazed you how well you both danced around each other, almost as if you choreographed it yourself.

Once it was done, you told Wayne it was time to chow down, which he gladly but slowly got up from his chair to sit at the table with Eddie. You opted to perch yourself up on the counter that was closest to the table, being able to engage in their conversation, laughing when they said or did something that you thought was hilarious.

When the three of you were finished eating with absolutely no food left over, you told the Munson men to sit back and relax so that you could clean up, which wasn’t much. Eddie tried to help you dry the dishes, but you just smacked his hand away, telling him to sit his ass down.

Eddie had grabbed himself a beer, as well as another one for Wayne, handing it to him before going into his room, laying down on his bed, his back resting against the wall behind him, watching as you walked in.

Trying to figure out where to sit, you looked around his room, seeing it was a little askew.

“Don’t you think about it,” he said. “It’s organized chaos.”

“But can you find the heavy stuff?” you asked, raising a brow at his silence. “That’s what I thought.” You busied yourself by tidying his room, putting his dirty laundry in a pile to be washed, folding the clean clothes and putting them in his drawers… after folding them up. “Am I gonna have to come over once a week and tidy up for you?”

Eddie chuckled, setting his beer down on the table beside his bed, the contents almost gone before he moved to the edge of his mattress, mimicking your position from earlier. “Come here,” he quietly said, holding a hand out for you.

Taking it, you couldn’t help but feel the sparks shoot through your arm, but you elected to ignore them as he guided you to sit in from him. 

“I just wanted to say thanks,” he said, softly. “For helping make dinner, cleaning up the dishes as well as my room.” He chuckled at his own statement, your own chuckle mingling with his. “You’re really the best person I could’ve ever asked to be a friend.”

“A best friend?” you asked, smiling wide with your brows raised.

“Yeah,” he lightly laughed. “A best friend.”

After that conversation, you and Eddie cuddled on his bed, something you always did after you stayed for dinner, the two of you talking about anything and everything for a couple of hours. At the sound of the shower running, you sighed. 

“I guess that’s my cue,” you whispered, subconsciously drawing random circles on his shirt.

Eddie held you tighter, groaning in protest. “Noooooooooo! Don’t go.”

Laughing, you balled his shirt in your fist, your cheek squishing on his clothed chest.  “I have to! I have to work in the morning.”

“Tell everyone that comes in tomorrow that you're putting the rumor to bed.”

You chuckled a little, trying your best to sit up. “Will do, boss.”

It was Eddie’s turn to reluctantly let you go, the both of you sitting up and getting off the bed. Like a true gentleman, he walked you out of the trailer and to your car. “Thanks for staying for dinner, sweets.”

“I enjoyed it,” you replied, looking at him with a soft smile. You could feel the tension between the two of you, wanting to just plant your lips on his, but knowing you couldn’t. “Well, I, uhh, I guess I should go.”

Eddie groaned in protest, making you giggle.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back tomorrow after my shift for a little while like always.”

“It’s like you live here.”

“I might as well. We all know that my home life isn’t what I enjoy.” 

You grew up like your other best friend, Steve Harrington. Rich parents, big house, always by yourself. On those days or weeks that your parents were off with Steve’s, you’d both switch off between staying at each other’s houses.

Just like with Steve and Robin, you and him were strictly platonic, if not just as platonic as they were. You liked the relationship you and Steve held. No expectations held between the two of you, other than… being best friends.

“I know, sweets,” Eddie whispered, bringing a hand up to your cheek, holding it in his palm. “Call me and let me know you made it home safe?”

“Eddie–”

“Wayne’ll be fine,” he interrupted. “He’s working nights at the moment, remember?”

Closing your eyes with a squint, you remembered what his shifts were like; a few weeks on day shift, a few weeks on night shift. You felt bad for Wayne’s sleep schedule, the man getting sleep where he could.

As if he sensed his name being mentioned, Wayne walked out of the trailer, lunchbox in hand. “Well, kids, looks like I’m heading off for the night. You two stay out of trouble.”

“Eddie? Getting into trouble? Never,” you joked.

All Eddie could do was give you a deadpan expression. “Oh, ha ha ha. Very funny.” He looked at his uncle, softness in his eyes. “Don’t worry, Wayne. I’ll be fine.”

“Same words, different day,” the older Munson chuckled. “I’ll see ya in the morning, boy.”

Eddie just smiled and patted his uncle on the shoulder, watching as he got into his rundown car and drove off to work. He was always worried about his uncle and that shitbox he drove, but at least it got him from Point A to Point B. Sighing, Eddie looked back down at you, seeing the somber look on your face.

“He’s gonna be okay,” you softly said. “He’ll get there fine.”

“I know,” he sighed, again, wrapping his arms around you. “I just worry.”

Releasing a deep breath as you wrapped your arms around his middle and pressed your face into his chest, you responded, “It’s okay to worry, Eds,” before moving your head to the side, your cheek pressing where your nose just was. “But you’re gonna worry yourself to death. He’s a grown man, he can take care of himself.”

Perching your chin on his sternum, you looked up at him as he looked down at you. “I know. Thanks.”

“For what?”

“Being here for us. He’s not very good with words, but I know he appreciates it.”

“Who knows, maybe one day I’ll move in and cook dinner for you two all the time, and make sure your laundry is kept up.” You were joking, but something in Eddie’s mind told him that didn’t sound like a bad idea. “Listen, I would love to stay and keep you company, but unfortunately, my parents are home for the next few days. They’d be pissed if I wasn’t home to greet them.”

Eddie raised a brow at you. “Can I level with you?”

“Sure.”

“They wouldn’t be pissed, and I think… you’re just telling yourself that… to try and make yourself feel better.”

He had a good point. Steve had said the same thing about his own parents at one point when you all were at a party together.

“Okay, fine,” you groaned. “I really don’t wanna go home.”

“Then don’t. Come back inside. Let’s put–”

“I swear, if you say let’s put the rumor to bed one more time, I’m gonna pluck every single strand of hair from your hair.”

Eddie chuckled, rubbing his hands up and down your back. “I was gonna say, rude ass, let’s put on a movie… and if we happen to put the rumor to bed, we put the rumor to bed.”

“Edward Wayne, you might just be a genius,” you smiled. You couldn’t deny that you had a small crush on him. I mean, who wouldn’t! Everyone in town sees him as a freak, but to you… he’s just Eddie. Sweet, fun-loving, guitar playing Eddie who adores his uncle and Hellfire friends more than anything.

You were already feeling a little tired, so agreeing to Eddie’s offer of watching a movie seemed like the next best thing. As you walked back into the trailer, you set your stuff back down on the small kitchen table before walking to the couch, plopping yourself down while releasing a deep breath before yawning, “What did you want to watch?”

“None of that rom-com shit you like to watch,” he chuckled.

“Well, none of that horror shit you like to watch,” you retorted, smiling at the end to show him that you were joking.

He chuckled, sitting down next to you after he popped a movie into the player, the remote in his hand. Putting his arm around the back of the couch, he smirked, the trailers playing on the screen, the brightness of the screen lighting up his features.

Looking from him back to the tv, you groaned, a small bit of fear crossing your features. “Eddie. I hate this movie. Why would you pick this movie?”

“What’s wrong with this movie?” he asked, tapping his heels on the floor, his legs having been spread since he sat down.

“It’s fucking creepy!” you whined. “And I feel bad for the little piggie!”

“Well, I, for one, like the Horned King.”

“Of course you would. The Black Cauldron is right up your freaking alley.” Crossing your arms, you scrunch your brows, wallowing in your discomfort causing Eddie to lightly chuckle to himself.

Not ten minutes into the film, and you were burying your face into Eddie’s shoulder, your hands up by your cheek. “Oh, fuck!” you exclaimed. This made Eddie chuckle, his arm wrapping around your shoulders, making your face go from his shoulder to his chest, your eyes peeking out from between your fingers. 

“Turn it off, turn it off,” you whimpered as the Horned King spoke on screen.

“How I’ve thirsted to be a god,” the Horned King said.

“You’re fucking creepy as shit, man! You’re no god! You’re just a devil with horns!”

Laughing, Eddie tightened his grip on your shoulders. “That’s the point, babe.” He didn’t mean to use the nickname, it just slipped out. Not that it didn’t feel good rolling off of his tongue.

You looked at him, the movie long forgotten in your mind as you looked at his profile. Bringing your hand up to cup his cheek, you moved his head to cast his eyes down at you, which he did after seeing the screen from the corner of his eyes. “Call me that again,” you whispered.

“What? Babe?” he asked just as quietly.

Nodding, you sat up a little straighter. “I think I’d rather put that rumor to bed now.”

“It’s like you read my mind, sweets.” Without missing a beat, Eddie leaned his head down just as you were sitting up a little more, your lips connecting in a searing kiss that had fireworks and butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

The kiss was everything you had dreamed it would be as you moved to straddle his hips, your hands cupping his cheeks as Eddie’s hands went to your hips. Capturing his bottom lip between yours, you let out  a soft breath before pulling back.

At the same time you moved your hands to his neck, Eddie’s hands moved from your hips to your cheeks, his big palms cupping your face as your foreheads pressed together. “Damn, sweets,” Eddie breathed. “You know how long I’ve been thinking about that?”

“Forever?” you asked, softly. Lightly rubbing your thumbs on his neck, you pulled back just a little to look into his chocolate brown eyes. “Because I’ve been dreaming about this for a long time.”

“Dreaming about what?”

Well, you can’t turn back now as you decided to just lay it all out on the table. “About you being slotted between my legs, your cock buried so deep inside of me that I could cum just from that alone. I’ve dreamt about your face between my thighs–” 

You felt yourself being lifted from the couch, your legs going around Eddie’s waist as the man in question walked towards his bedroom, making sure the door was locked beforehand as you continued, “- as your tongue and fingers work on my wet, aching core to the point where I have push your face away from how sensitive you made me.”

Eddie groaned as he kicked his bedroom door shut, laying you down on the bed to hover over you. “Keep going, princess.”

“I’ve dreamt of you fucking me from behind, me riding you, us laying on our sides facing each other, you buried to the hilt inside of me. Even me laying on my stomach with you hovering over me, making me feel so fucking good.”

“Shit,” Eddie whispered, working on the buttons of your jeans while his lips worked on your neck.

Quietly gasping at the feeling of his hand working its way down the front of your jeans, you kept up with your words. “I’ve dreamt about making you feel good, Eddie. My mouth around your tip, hollowing my cheeks as I take all that I can into my mouth, wrapping my hand around what I can’t fit - shit.”

Your words were cut off by the feel of Eddie’s finger sliding through your already wet folds, teasing your entrance. “So wet for me,” he muttered against your neck. “You always this wet when you think about me, princess?”

Moaning, you answered, “Yes. Always.” Burying your head into the mattress beneath your head, you moaned again, feeling a rush of pleasure surging through you at the feel of his slender digit finally making contact with your aching bud. Needing something to hold on to for the moment, you reached your hand up, lightly grasping Eddie’s curly brown tendrils. 

“Eddie,” you breathed. “Need you.”

“Need me where, princess?”

“Mouth. Core. Now.”

A light chuckle sounded from Eddie before a sad whimper through the air from you at the removal of his touch. Before you could protest, he placed a kiss to your lips, working on the button and zipper of your jeans. “Oh, don’t worry, princess. I’m getting there.”

Feeling his body being removed from your own, you looked at him, a pout on your lips as he sat up straight, taking your jeans with him. Eddie looked at you, a smirk on his face. “Don’t worry, m’lady. I’m getting there.”

A sigh fell from your lips as you watched him remove your panties from your hips, dropping them to the floor with your jeans with a soft thud. Gliding his hands up your calves to your knees, you closed your eyes, softly moaning with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

The next sensation had you gasping and looking down, seeing nothing but the top of Eddie’s glorious hair as he started his feast on your core. “Fuck, Eddie,” you whispered.

He leaned back just a tad to look up at you as he worked his magical tongue over your sensitive bud. Pulling off of your core for just a second, he brought his fingers to where his mouth was, softly working his fingers over your core to continue the sensation his tongue had brought. “You like that, babe?”

Nodding, you hummed your agreement, bringing a hand to his hair to thread your fingers through them softly. “Yes,” you whispered. 

Eddie leaned his head against your inner thigh, smiling up at you softly as he inserted one finger into your entrance. “Ready for your fantasy to be brought to life?”

“Fuck yes, Eddie, please,” you groaned before he chuckled. 

Without saying another word, he brought his mouth down on your clit, gently sucking on the bud as he worked his finger in and out of you at a delicious pace. Halting his sucking for just a moment, he watched himself as he brought another finger to your entrance, inserting that finger into you as well, your moans like music to his ears.

No words were exchanged as he worked his fingers in and out of your core and his tongue and mouth on your clit, groans coming from both of you; your groans and moans of pleasure, his groans at your sounds.

“Fuck, Eddie, I’m gonna cum,” you said, using your free hand to grab at his pillow. He saw that and didn’t like it, so instead, he adjusted himself before reaching for your hand that was on his head and laced your fingers with his as you brought your free hand down to his head.

Your breaths quickened as Eddie worked his absolute magic, working you to your release. With your head digging into the pillows, you let out a loud moan as your climax hit. While it felt glorious, you wanted to see Eddie’s face and the smug grin that you were sure he was wearing.

When you looked down, you smiled and chuckled, seeing that exact look on his face. “Enjoy that, babe?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumbled. “I think you’ve got me tongue drunk.”

Chuckling, he placed a kiss to the top of your clit before moving his lips back up your body, taking your shirt with him. As he brought it up over your head, Eddie lifted your arms, holding your wrists in place as he looked down at your breasts, reaching behind your back to unhook your bra.

“Take it off,” you whispered, watching him push it up to reveal your skin to him, his eyes having landed on your perky nipples. Before you could say or even think of any other words to say, a moan escaped your throat, your head digging back into the pillows at the feeling of Eddie’s mouth around your nipple. “Eddie!”

With a soft pop, he released your perky bud, looking you dead in the eyes. “How do you want me?” he asked, reaching towards his jeans button and zipper, the latter sounding as he unzipped his pants, pushing them down his legs the best he could.

“Inside. Now. I can’t wait any longer. I need you, Eds.”

“Shit, babe,” he muttered, standing to rid himself of his clothes and to retrieve a condom. He started to climb back up his bed to hover over you at the same time you rid yourself of your shirt. Lining himself up after rolling the condom down his shaft, he looked at you. “Ready?”

“More than ready.”

He nodded slightly, looking back down at your entrance to guide himself to your aching core. As soon as the tip of his cock touched your pussy, it was game over. You both moaned at the feeling of him inserting himself.

You gasped and looked down at where the two of you were connected as soon as he buried to the hilt as he groaned in pure pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” he muttered. “I’m not even sure I’ll last that long.”

“I don’t care if you last the next four milliseconds,” you said. “I love the way you feel me up.”

With that, Eddie slowly pulled out before all but slamming back into you before doing it again… and again and again and again and again causing you to be a writhing mess under him. Eddie did all he could to hold himself above you, his arm muscles growing the tiniest bit weak.

“Fuck,” he whispered. “You feel so good, I might cum in the next three pumps.”

“Fuuu–” Your words were cut off with a small yelp at Eddie’s fingers rubbing your clit, your walls starting to flutter around him. “Eddie, I’m gonna cum! Don’t stop!”

And he didn’t. He didn’t stop rubbing at your clit until you came around his cock, and he in the condom. Eddie didn’t move for a good minute or two, panting above you. “Shit, babe.”

When he pulled out to dispose of the condom, the both of you hissed, your core feeling like he fucked you absolutely raw. “Don’t move,” Eddie whispered. “I���ll be right back.”

Nodding, you watched as his form retreated from the room, calling out Wayne’s name just to be sure he didn’t come back home early. When neither of you heard his voice, Eddie looked at you and gave you a curt nod before exiting his bedroom, a small laugh playing on your lips.

As you heard the water in the bathroom running, you sighed and closed your eyes, content with how things were playing when an overwhelming thought crossed your mind; what did this mean for the two of you? Were you two together; like boyfriend and girlfriend, or were you two just now friends with benefits?

Those thoughts scared you, as did Eddie when he came into the room, a warm wash cloth in hand. “Spread ‘em,” he said, softly. You did as he asked, gasping at the feeling of him cleaning you up.

Once the cloth was discarded, he crawled up the bed to lay beside you with a smile on his face, but when he looked at the expression on your face, his smile immediately died. “babe, what’s wrong?”

“Just–” you sighed. “What are we now?” Looking at him, you couldn’t help but feel bad at bringing this up right after he fucked you into oblivion. “I just– I wanna be with you, Eddie, but that stupid, annoying voice in the back of my head is saying that you don’t want to be with me, too, which I know wouldn’t be the case if you just fucked me like a damn god.”

Eddie chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “babe, I’ve wanted you since the moment I laid eyes on you.” Cupping your cheek, he continued his words. “When I saw you, I said to myself, ‘damn, I want this girl. She’s perfect, even with her nose stuck in a book.’”

Laughing, you covered his hand with yours, looking into his eyes with all the adoration in the world. “You still want me even though I still have my nose books?”

With a soft smile, he replied, “Always.”

~~~

As you walked into Family Video with Eddie a few weeks later, you spotted Chrissy in the rom-com section of the store, her head tilting up from looking at the second shelf. When her eyes locked with yours, she rolled hers and looked back down for a moment before casting her eyes upward, looking at you and Eddie once more.

Eddie saw this and wrapped an arm around your shoulder, kissing your temple before walking over to the horror section, which just so happened to be right behind the rom-com section.

As Chrissy turned to look at the shelves behind her, what she saw made her let out a deep, annoyed breath; you and Eddie were locking lips, not in a high school makeout session, but more of a sweet kiss.

The two of you only broke apart once you heard a throat being cleared. “Can you two please move this somewhere else?” Robin whispered. “You’re going to scare away our customers.”

“Remember that rumor from a few weeks ago about Eddie and I hooking up?” you asked, to which Robin nodded. “Well, Chrissy started that rumor, so Eddie and I put it to bed and… well, now we’re together!”

“Nice, but please, keep it to a minimum,” she asked, turning to walk back to the front counter.

Smiling, you shook your head and turned to look at the selection of tapes in front of you.

“Listen, I know horror isn’t your thing, but I brought you over here to just kiss you in front of Chrissy,” Eddie said, softly.

“So, does this mean I get to go look at comedies now?” you asked, looking up at your boyfriend with a smile on your face. 

Chuckling, he said, “Sure thing, babe.”

Walking away, you groaned, “God, I love it when you call me that.”

As Eddie walked behind you to the comedy section, he started humming one of your newest favorites songs off of Def Leppard’s Hysteria album. “Gimme all of you lovin’, Gimme all that you got, Ev’ry bit of you lovin’, Never want it to stop, Yeah but are you gettin’ it? Armageddon it! Ooh, really gettin’ it? Yes, Armageddon it!”

Hearing Eddie humming that song had you bursting out in laughter, head tilted back. The second, third, and even fourth time the two of you had rolled around in the sheets, that particular song played. Every. Single. Time.

So, Eddie being Eddie, hummed or sang it every time he wanted take in that particular activity, and you would always respond with a lyric from the song, just like you did now.

“Yes, Armageddon it!”

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

A/N 2:  hi, friends! let me know what you thought! again, please do not hesitate to reblog and give some feedback, whether it be in the reblogs, comments, or my inbox.

Additional Notes: idk how i feel about writing for a non-henderson!reader, lol. i'm so used to writing henderson!reader, lol

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Forever / Everything Taglist: @stiles-o-dylan24 @stixnstripesworld @fandom-princess-forevermore @quanticobae @mischiefandi @kellyashcroft @lauren-novak​

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~~~

*Please don’t post my writing anywhere else without my consent. The author of this work will always and forever be @harringtonstilinski​.

All characters, story lines, and plot aside from y/n and her storyline & plot, are all of the work of The Duffer Brothers.

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Posted on August 23, 2024