#i need to listen to the trailer in all languages later

[theetherealbloom]

IT COULD HAPPEN TO YOU - CH.4

Chapter Four: Everybody Wonders What It Would Be Like To Love You

Summary: You find yourself sharing a hotel suite with Pedro Pascal while working on the set of Fantastic Four: First Steps. Despite your different roles—he’s the star, and you’re behind the scenes. Nothing could ever happen between you two… right?

Paring: Pedro Pascal x F!Reader

Warnings: Age-Gap Romance (Not Specified), Eventual SMUT, Crush, FLUFF, Slight Angst, Trope(s), Swearing, Anxiety, Lots of Cliches, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Real People Fiction, Cameras, Paparazzi, Social Media, Swoonworthy, One-Room Trope, They were roommates, Strangers-to-Lovers, Actors, Hallmark Tropes, the reader can sing and play guitar, the reader is shorter than Pedro, the reader has hair, Alternate Universe, Awkward!Reader, Shy!Reader, Fan Girl!Reader, Cringe, Embarrassment, Starstruck, Bullying, Physicological Bullying, Mean Girls,

Word Count: 6.4k

A/N: Heads up, there’s a bully in this chapter but dw, you got Pedro on your side hehe. Again, this is all fictional. To any Cecilia’s out there irl, no hate to you girl, I don’t even know you LOL.

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: gold rush by Taylor Swift

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PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING  

The hum of set life surrounded you like a familiar melody—the rhythmic chatter of crew members, the distant clatter of equipment being adjusted, the occasional burst of laughter from someone off-camera. You moved through it all with ease, exchanging quick words with a fellow PA as you double-checked the last-minute details before call time.  

You didn’t notice him watching you.  

Pedro sat in the makeup chair, already in costume, his eyes drifting away from the mirror as Coco worked her hands through his hair. His body was still, but his mind was somewhere else. Or rather—on someone else.  

It was the way you tilted your head as someone from production rattled off instructions, your brows furrowing slightly in concentration. The way you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, nodding once before offering a soft, assured smile. You weren’t just hearing what they were saying—you were listening, absorbing every detail like you belonged here. Like you had always belonged.  

He felt something tighten in his chest.  

God, you made him feel strange.  

It was the words that stuck in his throat when you were near, the way his pulse stuttered for no damn reason. The way his thoughts—usually so steady, so controlled—felt unruly around you. It was dizzying. Unsettling.  

It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. Since he’d been caught so completely off guard by someone.  

And yet, he couldn’t stop himself from looking for you.  

In the crowd. In the moments between takes. In the quiet spaces where he thought maybe—just maybe—you were looking for him, too.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

Lunch break rolled around, bringing a much-needed lull in the day’s chaos. The crew scattered—some retreating to their trailers, others grabbing quick bites from catering, the energy shifting into something looser, more relaxed.  

Your phone buzzed just as you were sitting down at one of the outdoor tables, the screen lighting up with a message.  

Pedro: Wanna grab a bite later?  

You smiled to yourself, thumbs already moving across the screen.  

You: I do, but I kinda wanna hang with my friends for a bit too.  

His response came almost immediately.  

Pedro: Oh yeah, of course. Mind if I tag along?

You hesitated for half a second. Not because you didn’t want him there—but because you weren’t sure if he really wanted to be there.  

You: Are you sure? 

Pedro: Obviously.  

So that’s how Pedro Pascal ended up at lunch with you and your friends, settling into the group like he had always belonged there.  

He was easy to talk to, of course. He charmed his way through introductions, seamlessly jumping into conversations, laughing in all the right places, making everyone feel like they were the most interesting person in the room. But his attention always had a way of drifting back to you.  

The way you scrunched your nose as you tried to pick apart a joke someone had made. The way your eyes lit up as you talked about some old inside story with your friends. The way you were currently demolishing a cookie like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.  

Pedro noticed.  

He didn’t say anything, but he noticed.  

His lips twitched as you took another enthusiastic bite, completely unaware of his amusement.  

There were other things, too—subtle things. The brush of his knee against yours under the table, lingering just a second longer than necessary. The way his fingers would graze your wrist when he leaned in to say something, as if testing the waters. The way his eyes would flick to your lips when you spoke before quickly darting away, as if he hadn’t meant to.  

And then, of course, there was the teasing.  

"Did you even taste that cookie, or did you just inhale it?" Pedro mused, finally breaking his silence, amusement lacing his voice.  

You swallowed the last bite, leveling him with a mock glare. "It’s really good."  

He smirked. "Clearly."  

"Don’t judge me."  

"Never." The word came softer than expected, a little too sincere for just teasing. His gaze held yours for a beat longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.  

Your heart stuttered.  

He looked away first, but not before you caught the slightest hint of pink creeping up the tips of his ears. It was such a small thing—barely there, really—but you noticed. And it made something warm unfurl in your chest.  

The conversation around the table carried on, your friends swapping stories and teasing each other between bites of food. Pedro chimed in here and there, laughing along, but every now and then, you felt his gaze flick back to you.  

You were hyper-aware of him now. The way his arm rested casually on the back of your chair, not quite touching but close enough that you could feel his warmth. The way his fingers absentmindedly drummed against the table, his other hand occasionally brushing against yours as he reached for his drink.  

Then, he sighed, pulling his phone from his pocket, frowning slightly at the screen.  

"Ugh, my phone’s about to die."  

Without hesitation, you reached into your bag, pulling out your power bank and a charging cord. "Oh, no worries, here—use this."  

Pedro blinked, momentarily caught off guard.  

You handed it over without a second thought, already turning back to your food. But he didn’t move to plug his phone in right away. Instead, he just looked at you, something unreadable in his expression.  

His fingers brushed against yours as he took the charger, his touch lingering just a fraction longer than necessary.  

“You just carry this around with you?” he asked, his voice quieter now, something softer beneath the teasing edge.  

You shrugged, popping another bite of food into your mouth. “Yeah, of course. Never know when you might need it.”  

His lips quirked, but he didn’t say anything right away.  

Instead, he plugged in his phone, then glanced back at you, shaking his head slightly like he couldn’t quite believe you.  

"What?" you asked, raising an eyebrow.  

Pedro exhaled a small laugh, tucking the power bank into his lap like it was something precious. "Nothing. You’re just—" He paused, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, "—thoughtful."  

Something about the way he said it made your stomach flip.  

You swallowed, suddenly feeling self-conscious under his gaze. "It’s just a charger, Pedro."  

"Yeah," he murmured, still watching you. "I know."  

But his expression said something else entirely.

You weren’t sure what to do with that look—the quiet weight of his gaze, the way he seemed to be memorizing you like you were something worth studying. So, instead of dwelling on it, you reached into your bag and pulled out your notepad and pen.

Doodling had always been second nature to you. Something to keep your hands busy while your mind wandered. While your friends continued chatting, their voices washing over you in waves, you let your pen glide over the paper in absentminded strokes.

Pedro, however, wasn’t nearly as distracted.

From the corner of his eye, he watched, his attention flicking between you and the small spirals and shapes forming beneath your fingers. It was mesmerizing in a way he didn’t expect. The way your brow furrowed ever so slightly when you concentrated. The way your pen tapped softly against the pad before committing to a new line.

He shifted in his seat, subtly angling himself so he could get a better look.

It wasn’t just mindless scribbles.

You were sketching. Really sketching.

A rough outline of the restaurant table, the glasses, the crumpled napkins. And just beside that, the faint beginnings of a face—strong jaw, slightly furrowed brows, lips curved at the edges as if they were on the verge of a smirk.

His lips.

Pedro’s throat tightened.

"That me?" he asked, voice pitched just low enough for only you to hear.

Your pen paused mid-stroke, and you glanced up at him, caught. He wasn’t teasing, not really. If anything, there was something almost—fond—about the way he was looking at you.

You shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. "Maybe."

Pedro huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. "I didn’t know you could draw."

"It’s just something I do when I’m listening," you admitted, flipping the page like it was nothing.

But he didn’t think it was nothing.

He wanted to say something else, something lighthearted to keep you from looking so shy about it, but before he could, one of your friends called your name, pulling your attention away.

Pedro exhaled, leaning back in his seat, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer.

Thoughtful. Talented.

Yeah. He was absolutely in trouble.

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — AFTERNOON

The shift in the air was subtle at first, almost imperceptible.

But you felt it.

It was the way certain conversations would quiet just as you approached. The way people who had once been warm and welcoming now exchanged knowing glances when they thought you weren’t looking. The way whispers followed in your wake, hushed giggles that felt anything but good-natured.

And at the center of it all was Cecilia.

She was the kind of woman people noticed when she walked into a room—stunning, sharp-witted, and utterly ruthless when it came to getting what she wanted.

And for whatever reason, she had decided that you were a problem.

At first, it was small things. A pointed look. A lingering smirk. A brush of her shoulder against yours as she passed by.

But then, it escalated.

"Did you hear?" one of her friends whispered just loud enough as you walked by. "She totally forced her way onto this project. Some kind of nepotism thing, I bet."

"Ugh, so cringe," another voice giggled. "She acts all sweet, but like, we know the truth."

You gritted your teeth, kept your head down, and moved along.

You weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what this was. Psychological warfare disguised as petty gossip. You’d seen it before, and you'd see it again.

The worst part?

You refused to let it get to you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Pedro noticed.

It started with the way you brushed things off too quickly, like you were trying not to care. The way your usual smiles didn’t quite reach your eyes. The way your laugh—one of his new favorite sounds—had dulled just a fraction, too forced, too polite.

And Pedro wasn’t an idiot.

He saw the way Cecilia and her group slinked around set like vipers, the way their eyes always seemed to flick toward you before whispering behind manicured hands.

It pissed him off.

But when he asked about it, you just waved it away.

“Nothing’s wrong.” You shrugged, reaching for a prop clipboard. “Just tired. Long day.”

Pedro arched a brow. “Really? That’s it?”

“Yep.”

He studied you for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’re a terrible liar.”

That made you scoff. “I am fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. “So, you’re totally cool with the whole… weird vibe around here lately?”

You hesitated. Just for a second.

It was enough.

“Pedro,” you sighed, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal. I don’t care what they think, okay? It’s just… you know how some people are. They get bored.”

“They get mean,” he corrected.

You frowned, looking away.

He softened, tilting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t have to pretend it doesn’t suck.”

You swallowed, fingers tightening around the clipboard.

“It doesn’t suck,” you insisted. “Because I don’t care.”

Pedro’s stare was unwavering, but you held your ground.

Because if you admitted it did hurt—if you let yourself feel it—you weren’t sure you’d be able to stop.

And you weren’t going to let them win.

Pedro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Fine. You don’t care," he murmured. "But if you ever do care… you’ll tell me, right?"

Something in your chest tightened at that.

You forced a small, teasing smile. “Wow, Pedro. That almost sounded like a serious conversation.”

He rolled his eyes but smirked. "Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it."

And just like that, the tension cracked, relief flickering behind his gaze.

For now, he’d let you pretend you were fine.

But he’d also be watching.

TWO DAYS BEFORE THE WEEKEND…

PINEWOOD STUDIOS — MORNING

The next two days were a slow, grating kind of miserable.

It started with small things—so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you might have convinced yourself they were nothing. The way conversations would quiet just as you walked past, the barely-concealed laughter from across the room, the occasional, suspiciously misplaced item that had definitely been right where you left it.

It was the kind of thing that chipped away at you in small, insidious ways.

Like the way Cecilia and her friends would conveniently stand right where you needed to go, their backs turned but their voices just loud enough.

“I swear, some people just don’t belong here.”

You’d walk past without reacting, even as the words burrowed under your skin.

Or the way your neatly organized stack of call sheets had been mysteriously scattered all over the breakroom counter when you came back from a coffee run. No one claimed responsibility, but Cecilia had walked by, tossing you a slow, syrupy-sweet, “Oops, was that important?” before sauntering off.

You clenched your jaw. Breathed through it.

Not worth it.

But then there were the more deliberate moments.

Like the wardrobe rack incident.

You had been helping move costumes between trailers when Cecilia and one of her friends conveniently brushed past, sending a precariously hung dress tumbling to the ground.

“Oh no,” Cecilia pouted, pressing a hand to her chest with mock concern. “You should really be more careful.”

You bent to pick it up, biting back the sharp retort on the tip of your tongue. The last thing you needed was to give her the satisfaction of a reaction.

Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you smoothed out the fabric and rehung it.

Then, there was lunch.

You had been balancing a plate of food in one hand, your phone in the other, when one of Cecilia’s friends accidentally knocked your elbow in passing.

It was a tiny movement. Just enough to send your fork clattering to the floor, just enough to make you hesitate—because was it intentional? Or were you just being paranoid?

“Careful,” the girl sing-songed over her shoulder, giggling as she caught up with Cecilia.

You let out a slow breath. Swallowed back the lump in your throat.

Not worth it.

So you kept your head up, kept moving, kept going. You told yourself that if you didn’t acknowledge it, if you pretended it didn’t exist, then it couldn’t touch you.

Right?

But it did.

Because by the time you got back to your trailer that night, you had to sit on the edge of your bed and press the heels of your hands into your eyes, breathing slow, measured breaths to keep yourself from crying.

Because it was working.

Because no matter how much you told yourself you were fine, no matter how much you smiled and laughed and acted unbothered, the cracks were starting to show.

You barely had a moment to yourself.  

Between running last-minute errands for production, keeping up with the crew’s rapid-fire instructions, and dodging the subtle but constant hostility radiating from Cecilia and her group, you were stretched thin.  

The exhaustion was creeping in—settling in the space between your ribs, behind your eyes, in the way your shoulders sat just a little tighter than usual.  

But you wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.  

So you pushed through, past the carefully calculated inconveniences. The way they always seemed to cut in front of you when you were in a hurry, the stolen side-eyes and smirks exchanged whenever you spoke in a group, the way your things somehow always ended up in different places than you’d left them.  

You pretended not to notice when Cecilia’s voice turned just a little too loud whenever she spoke to someone near you.  

"Oh my god, you know what I hate? When people think just anyone can belong in this industry. Like… babe, you’re only here because they needed extra hands. It’s cute, though."  

You told yourself not to react.  

Even when Daisy—who had been standing beside you, her grip tightening on her clipboard—made a noise that sounded a lot like she was about to launch herself across the room.  

“It’s whatever,” you had muttered, tugging her back before she could make a scene.  

Daisy had narrowed her eyes. “It’s not whatever. She’s being a bitch.”  

You had only sighed. “I know.”  

Omar wasn’t as easily convinced.  

The next morning, when you found him loitering near Cecilia’s usual coffee spot, arms crossed and expression unreadable, you had to physically drag him away before he did something stupid.  

“Do not get yourself in trouble over this.”  

“She’s messing with you,” he seethed. “I hate people like her.”  

“She’s not worth it,” you said, but even to your own ears, your voice sounded too thin, too tight.  

Omar wasn’t buying it. “Okay, but are you okay?”  

You hesitated. The truth was, you weren’t sure anymore.  

The worst part wasn’t the pettiness or the whispered insults—it was the fact that it was working. That somehow, in all the noise and nonsense, they had managed to make you feel small.  

But admitting that felt too much like defeat.  

So you forced a smile. “I’m fine.”  

Omar gave you a long, knowing look before muttering something under his breath and stalking off.  

That afternoon, as you sat on a bench outside the studio, your notebook balanced on your lap, you felt a shadow fall over you.  

“Hey,” Pedro’s voice was soft.  

You glanced up, startled. “Oh. Hey.”  

His brows knit together. “You okay?”  

You blinked. “What?”  

“You’ve been… different.” His voice was measured, careful. “Quieter.”  

You tried to play it off, shaking your head with a small laugh. “I’m just tired. Long shoot days, you know how it is.”  

Pedro didn’t look convinced.  

For a moment, he just stood there, watching you with that steady, unreadable gaze of his. Like he was sifting through the words you weren’t saying, trying to make sense of them.  

Then, without another word, he sat down beside you.  

Close enough that his arm brushed against yours.  

You tensed, just slightly, before exhaling.  

Neither of you spoke for a moment.  

Then—  

“Can I see?” he asked, nodding toward your notebook.  

You hesitated.  

It was just mindless doodles—tiny flowers curling around the corners of the pages, half-finished sketches of set pieces, a rough outline of something that might have been Pedro’s profile if you hadn’t abandoned it halfway through.  

You felt a little embarrassed, but you handed it to him anyway.  

Pedro flipped through the pages, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “These are really good.”  

You rolled your eyes. “They’re just sketches.”  

“Still,” he murmured, fingers skimming over the paper. “They’re yours.”  

There was something about the way he said it—soft, sincere—that made your stomach tighten.  

For the first time in two days, something in you eased.  

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.  

And when Pedro leaned in, just slightly, warmth radiating from his shoulder where it rested against yours, you didn’t move away.

Pedro was still flipping through your sketches when a sharp, saccharine voice cut through the air.  

“Oh wow, there you are, Pedro. I was wondering when you’d finally come up for air.”  

Cecilia.  

You felt your whole body go rigid.  

Pedro barely glanced up, his fingers still tracing one of your sketches absentmindedly. “Hey.” His voice was flat, distracted.  

She took a step closer, her presence invasive in a way that made your skin prickle. “I was just telling the others how dedicated you are to your work. You know, always finding ways to get into character.” Her gaze flicked toward you, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. “Even off set.”  

You swallowed hard.  

Your chest felt tight, exhaustion pressing against your ribs, making it harder to keep your expression neutral. You were already hanging by a thread, stretched too thin over the last two days, and Cecilia knew it.  

Pedro, still looking down at your notebook, gave a vague hum of acknowledgment, barely engaging. It wasn’t the reaction Cecilia had been hoping for, and you could see it. The way her expression twitched for half a second before smoothing over again.  

She tilted her head, the corners of her mouth curling. “It’s sweet, though. That you take the time to entertain people. I mean, it’s not like everyone gets that kind of attention from you.” She let out a light, airy laugh that made your stomach turn. “Guess it pays to be in the right place at the right time, huh?”  

The implication was clear.  

You clenched your jaw, willing yourself not to react.  

But then—  

“Cecilia,” Pedro’s voice was calm, but there was an edge to it now. His fingers tapped against the notebook, his expression unreadable. “What are you doing?”  

Cecilia blinked, all faux innocence. “What do you mean?”  

Pedro finally lifted his head, and when he met her gaze, something in his expression shifted—something sharp, something distinctly unimpressed.  

“I mean, what are you doing?” His voice was just as smooth as before, but there was weight behind it now. “Because if you’re here to talk about the shoot, you should probably be talking to the crew.”  

Cecilia’s smile faltered.  

It was subtle, but you caught it.  

She opened her mouth, probably to smooth things over, but Pedro was already looking back at you, tilting the notebook toward you slightly, as if she weren’t even standing there.  

“You should finish this one,” he murmured, tapping his finger against the half-finished sketch of his profile. “It’s really good.”  

You could feel Cecilia’s eyes burning into you, but Pedro wasn’t giving her anything to work with.  

Her lips parted, like she might try again, but then she seemed to think better of it. Instead, she let out a small, sharp exhale through her nose, rolling her eyes as she turned on her heel and stalked off.  

The moment she was gone, you let out a slow, shaky breath, your hands gripping your notebook a little tighter.  

Pedro glanced over, brow furrowed. “You okay?”  

You nodded, even though your throat was tight. “I just…” A deep inhale. “I think I need a break.”  

Pedro studied you for a long moment. Then, without a word, he reached out, resting his hand over yours where it lay against the bench.  

Warm. Steady.  

Grounding.  

“Let’s take one, then,” he murmured.  

And for the first time in days, you let yourself lean into it.

The evening air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of rain on the pavement as the last of the crew wrapped up for the day. You were exhausted, your body aching from hours on set, but when Pedro leaned in—voice low and warm—you felt something in you unwind.  

“Wanna grab dinner before heading back?”  

You blinked up at him, a little caught off guard. “Like… out-out?”  

His lips quirked into a small smile, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans. “Yeah. Out-out.”  

You hesitated, glancing around as crew members bustled past, some already heading toward the shuttle van waiting to take everyone back to the hotel. “But, like… what if people see me with you?”  

Pedro gave you a look. “So?”  

“So… you’re you,” you gestured vaguely at him, “and I’m just—”  

He cut you off with a quiet scoff, shaking his head. “Nope. We’re not doing that again. You’re you. And I wanna have dinner with you. End of discussion.”  

The finality in his tone made your stomach flip.  

You bit your lip, then nodded. “…Okay.”  

Pedro’s face softened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he bumped your shoulder lightly. “Good.”  

By the time you both made it to the shuttle van, most of the cast and crew were already piling in.  

Vanessa was the first to notice. She raised an eyebrow, a slow grin spreading across her face. “Ohhh, where are you two off to?”  

Before you could answer, Joseph leaned forward from his seat. “Are we witnessing a secret rendezvous?”  

Ebon chuckled, shaking his head. “A little late-night dinner date?”  

Coco, already buckled in, smirked knowingly. “Have funnnn,” she teased, dragging out the last syllable.  

You rolled your eyes, heat creeping up your neck. Pedro, for his part, was completely unfazed, flashing them an easy smile as he opened the door for you. “Don’t wait up,” he called, earning a chorus of laughter and whistles from the others as he shut it behind you.  

The restaurant wasn’t far—a quiet little spot tucked away from the main streets. The walk there was peaceful, the city buzzing around you but never pressing in too close.  

Pedro, dressed down in a hoodie, jeans, a baseball cap, and his glasses, was trying his best to blend in. But even like this, effortlessly casual, he still had a presence. He still walked like he took up space, like the world had to move around him.  

The height difference was almost comical. You felt it every time he turned his head down to look at you, every time his arm brushed against yours.  

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked suddenly, breaking the comfortable silence.  

You glanced up at him, caught off guard. “What?”  

Pedro gave you a look, one that made it clear he wasn’t buying whatever act you thought you were pulling. “Cecilia.”  

Your stomach twisted.  

You exhaled slowly, shaking your head. “It’s not a big deal.”  

Pedro stopped walking.  

You took two more steps before realizing, turning back to find him standing there, arms crossed, brows drawn together in frustration.  

He looked at you, really looked at you. “Of course, it’s a big deal,” he said, voice quieter now but firm. “If it’s hurting you, it’s a big deal.”  

You swallowed.  

The weight of his concern settled over you, warm and heavy. No one had ever really said that before. That what you were feeling mattered. That you weren’t just overreacting.  

Something in your chest cracked open, just a little.  

“…I just don’t want to make a thing out of it,” you admitted, voice small.  

Pedro’s features softened. He stepped closer, dipping his head slightly to meet your eyes. “You don’t have to,” he murmured. “But you don’t have to pretend it doesn’t bother you, either.”  

A lump formed in your throat.  

And then, just as easily as he had turned serious, he pulled back, tilting his head toward the restaurant. “C’mon. Food first, then we plot Cecilia’s demise.”  

A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.  

Pedro grinned, pleased with himself, before nudging your shoulder with his own.  

And as you walked the rest of the way, some of the weight on your chest didn’t feel quite so heavy anymore.

The restaurant was dimly lit, warm and intimate in a way that made the rest of the world feel far away. Soft jazz hummed through the air, mixing with the quiet murmur of conversation and the occasional clinking of glasses. The hostess greeted you both with a polite smile, barely sparing a glance at Pedro—either because she didn’t recognize him or, more likely, was being professional about it.  

Pedro let you choose the table, and you picked one near the window, a cozy little booth that felt tucked away from the rest of the diners. As you slid into your seat, Pedro pulled off his cap, running a hand through his messy curls before setting it down on the table.  

He looked… comfortable. Relaxed. And yet, there was still something unreadable in his expression as he watched you settle in.  

“You know,” he started, leaning forward on his elbows, “I’m kind of mad at you.”  

You blinked, caught off guard. “What? Why?”  

“Because,” he huffed, “I’ve been trying to get you alone for days, and the first time it actually happens, it’s because some Mean Girls knockoff has been making your life miserable.”  

You snorted. “So dramatic.”  

“I am dramatic,” he agreed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “But seriously. I don’t like that it took this for me to get to steal you away.”  

There was something in the way he said it—lighthearted, sure, but laced with something else. Something quieter. More honest.  

Your stomach flipped.  

Before you could figure out how to respond, the waiter appeared, handing over menus. Pedro thanked him with a charming smile before glancing back at you. “What are you in the mood for?”  

You shrugged, scanning the options. “Something warm.”  

Pedro hummed. “Soup?”  

“Maybe.”  

“Or,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “we get a huge plate of pasta and reenact Lady and the Tramp.”  

You rolled your eyes, laughing. “Absolutely not.”  

Pedro placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Wow. That was a little too fast. Like you’ve thought about rejecting me before.”  

You bit your lip, trying to fight the smile threatening to break free. He made it so easy to forget the exhaustion pressing down on you, the weight of the last few days.  

The waiter came back, and you both placed your orders—him getting some kind of hearty stew, you settling on a creamy pasta dish. The conversation flowed as effortlessly as ever, touching on everything and nothing all at once.  

At some point, Pedro leaned back in his seat, stretching his legs out beneath the table. His knee brushed against yours, but he didn’t move away. Neither did you.  

“So.” His voice was softer now, less teasing. “Cecilia.”  

You sighed, slumping slightly. “Can we not?”  

“We can,” Pedro allowed. “But I still hate it.”  

You fiddled with the hem of your sleeve, tracing the fabric between your fingers. “It’s not like she’s saying anything outright cruel. Just little things. Looks. Comments. Stuff that doesn’t sound like much but still…”  

Pedro’s jaw ticked. His fingers drummed absently against the table. “That’s how people like her work. They know how to make you feel like you’re imagining it.”  

You swallowed, looking down. “Yeah.”  

A beat of silence stretched between you. Then—  

“Do you want me to talk to her?”  

Your head snapped up. “What? No.”  

Pedro tilted his head, eyeing you. “Why not?”  

“Because,” you exhaled sharply, “I don’t need you to fight my battles.”  

His gaze softened, a flicker of something fond in his eyes. “I know you don’t. But I also know that you’re tired. And I hate seeing you like this.”  

Something in you wavered.  

Pedro sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “I just—God, I don’t get it. How could anyone not adore you?”  

Your breath hitched.  

The words were so sincere, so effortless, like he wasn’t even trying to be charming—just saying what was in his heart.  

Heat crept up your neck. You looked away, focusing on the flickering candle in the middle of the table. “You’re biased.”  

“Maybe,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”  

You let out a breathy laugh, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”  

Pedro grinned. “And yet, here you are. Having dinner with me.”  

“Unfortunately.”  

He clutched his chest in mock agony. “You wound me.”  

The waiter arrived with your food, and Pedro’s dramatic antics were temporarily forgotten as the delicious aroma filled the air. As you picked up your fork, he reached across the table, his fingers brushing against the back of your hand—just for a second, just long enough to send a small shiver up your spine.  

“Hey,” he murmured.  

You glanced up, and for the first time all day, you felt seen.  

“Don’t let her get to you,” Pedro said, voice gentle but firm. “You’re worth so much more than whatever bullshit she’s trying to pull.”  

Something tightened in your chest.  

You swallowed, nodding. “Okay.”  

Pedro studied you for a moment, then smiled. “Good.”  

The weight on your shoulders didn’t disappear entirely, but it softened, melted into something manageable under the glow of candlelight and Pedro’s unwavering attention. You let yourself relax, let yourself exist in this small, intimate moment where it was just the two of you, where the laughter was easy and the warmth between you was something real, something steady.  

Pedro caught your gaze mid-conversation, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he leaned in just slightly. “There she is.”  

You blinked, tilting your head. “What?”  

“That smile,” he said simply. “Haven’t seen it in a while.”  

Heat bloomed in your chest, warm and unfamiliar, something delicate but deep. You rolled your eyes, but it lacked any real bite. “You’re ridiculous.”  

“And yet,” Pedro teased, mirroring your words from earlier, “here you are.”  

You shook your head, lips twitching. “Unfortunate, really.”  

Pedro pressed a dramatic hand to his chest. “Wow. First, I get turned down for Lady and the Tramp, and now this? My ego is in shambles.”  

You laughed, a real, unguarded sound, and he grinned like that was exactly what he was hoping for.  

The conversation stretched long into the night, ebbing and flowing between playful teasing and quiet sincerity. The kind of talk that felt effortless, that felt safe.  

Somewhere between the last bites of food and the soft hum of the restaurant around you, Pedro reached across the table, his fingers skimming yours. The touch was featherlight, a quiet question rather than a demand. You could have pulled away.  

But you didn’t.  

Instead, you let your fingers curl around his, grounding, steady.  

Pedro didn’t say anything—he just squeezed your hand, a silent promise, and you squeezed back.  

Outside, the night air was crisp, carrying the distant sounds of the city with it. The restaurant door shut softly behind you, leaving you and Pedro standing beneath the glow of streetlights, his cap pulled low, his glasses perched on his nose.  

It should have felt different—stepping back into reality after the small bubble of warmth inside the restaurant. But somehow, it didn’t.  

Pedro rocked back on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “Still okay?”  

You exhaled, watching as your breath curled into the night air. “Yeah,” you admitted, surprising yourself. “I think I am.”  

Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied.

It turns out Vanessa, Coco, Joseph and Ebon got dinner somewhere else in town away from the two of you and they were waiting already in the shuttle and as soon as you both stepped inside, the teasing started. “Ohhh, look who finally decided to show up,” Vanessa sang, kicking her feet up on the seat in front of her, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Joseph smirked from his spot by the window, arms crossed over his chest. “How romantic was it, really? Scale of one to ten?”

Coco grinned. “I’m betting solid eight.” Ebon scoffed. “Nah, Pedro’s smooth—at least a nine.” Pedro sighed dramatically, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You guys seriously have nothing better to do?” Vanessa waved a hand. “Nope. Now spill.” You rolled your eyes, buckling your seatbelt as the van pulled away from the curb. “We ate dinner. Like normal people. And then we walked outside. Like normal people.” Coco squinted. “That’s exactly what someone who did kiss would say.” Pedro groaned, leaning his head back against the seat, while you fought the smile tugging at your lips. Joseph held out his hands. “Okay, okay, let’s be serious for a second. Was it cute at least?” You blinked at him. “Was what cute?” “The date—” “It wasn’t a date,” you and Pedro said at the same time. A pause.

Then Vanessa gasped, clutching her chest. “You’re already finishing each other’s sentences?” “Oh my God,” Pedro mumbled under his breath. The laughter rolled through the van, easy and infectious, and despite the relentless teasing, despite the way your face burned under their knowing looks, you couldn’t help but feel… good.

The knot in your chest—the one that had been coiled so tight these past few days—had loosened. Maybe not completely, but enough that breathing didn’t feel so hard. Pedro shifted beside you, turning his head so only you could hear him. “They’re never gonna let this go.” You sighed. “Yeah. I figured.” His shoulder brushed yours, a quiet reassurance, and when he spoke again, there was something soft in his voice. “You sure you’re okay?” You hesitated. Because truthfully, the weight of the past few days still sat heavy on your shoulders. Cecilia had made sure of that. The quiet digs, the passive-aggressive comments, the knowing smirks—it was a kind of exhaustion that seeped into your bones. But right now, in the warmth of this moment, with Pedro looking at you like he actually cared about the answer, you found yourself saying— “I think I will be.” Pedro studied you for a beat, then nodded, satisfied. It was a small thing—just a simple gesture, barely more than a shift of his head. But somehow, it carried more weight than it should have, like he was silently saying I see you. I hear you. You swallowed. It was nice to have a friend. But then—was that all this was? You glanced at him again, at the way he was sat with you so easily, like he’d always been meant to be there. At the way he felt beside you, like a quiet anchor in the storm of the last few days.

End Notes:

I told you there would be drama O_O

Again, no hate to any girlie named Cecilia, everyone calm.

Don’t worry girlies… it will turn out fine, mostly… I think… ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

YA'LL SEEN THE TEASER TRAILER!?!?!? IM UNWELL AND DYING AND SO EXCITED AND I WANT TO MELT AND DIE VANESSA KIRBY YOU LUCKY WOMAN I WANNA KISS HIM TOO T^T

TAGLIST: @comfortzonequeen @christinamadsen @liciafonseca @greenwitchfromthewoods @iqr-x @southernbe @maryfanson @brittmb115 @klajmekk @taytay0403 @whimsiwitchy @zymiii @sarahhxx03 @leilanixx @lilasskicker-23 @https-murdock @barnescamboy

[icarus-suraki]

Bleep bloop, bleep bloop!! [Not Really] New Conspiracy Theory Alert!!

A number of TikTok kids have decided that the AG/GATE (Academically GIfted/Gifted and Talented Education) program in elementary school was aaaaactually a government screening program for viable MKULTRA candidates.

Questions/speculations from believers include:

"Do you remember much about what you did in the GATE program? Was the classroom in a separate trailer with the windows all covered? Did you go on these weird field trips to, like, government offices? Did you do things with these weird computer programs? Were you given tests and puzzles to solve? Did you have to put on these big over-ear headphones and listen to these weird tones and say what you heard in them???"

I suspect this will tie (or already has tied) into the "targeted individuals" conspiracy theories and the "Monarch Project" conspiracy theories (that one involves reincarnation, time travel, and fighting aliens on Mars!).

Gang, I was in the AG program in elementary school in the early-mid 90s and, believe me, I remember it. It was in a trailer classroom, sure, but that was because all the "regular" classrooms were taken up by, you know, regular classes.

And the whole idea behind the program was to keep the kids who tested out of their grade level in certain subjects occupied while the rest of the class proceeded at the typical pace. So the handful of us who tested out went to the AG trailer and mostly played Legos and Othello or did lateral thinking puzzles. We did some introduction to algebra (which I recall frustrated the hell out of me because language was definitely more my strength). We did some computer programming with the Logo language (the turtle program), as I recall, and once we each created an imaginary country with a government, culture, map... And the teacher had a bunch of these absolutely hideous puppet toys called Boglins that we absolutely loved and we'd sit there, doing whatever activity, with these monstrous things on our lap, like latex rubber pets. (Their eyes would bling with these switches inside their heads, which was the best ever. Wink, wink, wink. I linked to a picture of the blue one because that was my favorite.)

As for the "big over-ear headphones" and "weird tones," my dudes, that was a hearing test with an audiometer. Source: my mother is an audiologist (and speech-language pathologist) and she'd get my brother and me to check her audiometer from time to time. I am very familiar with those tones and, bonus, I have really sensitive hearing. Hearing tests are administered to children in public schools the same way vision tests are administered: once a year for the first few years of school to check for physical issues that may impact learning. There's zero suspicious stuff going on there.

There's no MKULTRA screening, no weird stuff, no suspicious actions, no "targeting," none of it. The program was intended as enrichment for students who would very likely be at loose ends in class otherwise.

Anyway, tl;dr: the "gifted kids" were already regarded as special; there's no need to super special yourselves. Just accept the "gifted kid burnout" and try to live with it.

[lacydollette]

⋆˙⟡ BLESSING IN DISGUISE ⋆˙⟡

CHAPTER EIGHT

PAIRING rafe cameron x lovely kook!reader

WARNING(S) explicit language, barry, arguing, kissing, smut, praise, p in v, unprotected sex, riding, creampie, long chapter this time whopsi

SUMMARY when barry calls you up out of nowhere you surely didn’t expect the day to end the way it did, but you at least got your answer now.

For days, your mind was a war zone. Sarah’s words still haunting you every day, her advice to make a choice and stop dragging everyone, including yourself, through the chaos lingering deep. But the chaos wasn’t just around you—it was inside you, a raging storm of thoughts and feelings that wouldn’t settle even when you tried.

Rafe or JJ?

Your heart already knew the answer, a truth you didn’t want to admit just yet. But your head was stubborn and terrified of the future, spinning uncontrollably. You didn’t want to hurt anyone, least of all yourself, but no matter what you chose, someone would get burned. It was in the middle of one of these endless, messy thoughts that your phone rang. The name on the screen made your brows furrow. Barry.

“Hello?” you answered hesitantly. “Hey princess, need ya’ help,” Barry said, his voice low but urgent. “Uh…what? Since when do you need my help?” you asked, startled. “Since now,” he snapped, sounding impatient. “Just get over here. I’ll explain when ya’ get here.” You rolled your eyes, “Barry, I swear to—”

“Stop complainin’ and c’mere!” he cut you off, hanging up before you could argue further. Barry wasn’t the type to ask for help, let alone from you. And despite your suspicion, you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him again. Barry had always been a chaotic constant in your life, and sometimes his ridiculous antics were the perfect distraction.

A short drive later, you pulled up to Barry’s trailer. You stepped out of the car, brushing off any doubt as you approached the door. “Barry, you better have a damn good reason for this,” you called out, pushing the door open. But the moment you stepped inside, your smile faltered, fading completely when your eyes landed on the figure sitting next to Barry.

Rafe.

He sat slouched in a chair, his arms crossed over his chest, his piercing blue eyes locking onto yours the second you walked in, his stomach twisting at the sight of you. You stopped in your tracks, your gaze darting between him and Barry.

“What the hell is he doing here?” you asked, sounding more than irritated. Barry, looking more amused than anything, leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigarette. Rafe wanted to say something, anything, but Barry jumped in first with that smug grin Rafe hated so much. “What’s he doing here?” He repeated in a high pitched voice, mocking you, leaving you speechless.

Barry exhaled a puff of smoke and looked between the two of you, shaking his head. “I’m sick of this shit. The both of you, acting like you’re in some tragic shit show. Country Club here has been bitchin’ about you nonstop, and honestly, jus’ can’t listen to it anymore.”

Rafe glared at Barry. “You didn’t have to call her,” he muttered. Barry ignored him though, focusing on you instead. “You two need to figure this out. Right now. Fix it, fight it out, make out, I don’t give a shit. Just get it over with so I can have some peace.”

Your jaw dropped, but before you could say anything, Barry stood up and headed for the door. “And for the record,” he added, looking over his shoulder, “if y’all don’t fix it, I swear to God, I’m gonna put a bullet in both of yall’s head.” With that, he walked out of the trailer, leaving you alone with Rafe..

The silence in the trailer was unbearable, a gaping void neither of you was willing to fill. He sat on the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, while you stood near the door, arms crossed tightly over your chest. Neither of you spoke, the tension growing tighter and tighter with each passing second.

You were sick of this. Sick of the games, the push and pull, the endless cycle of him chasing you just to shove you away again. The frustration bubbling in your chest was threatening to spill over when Rafe finally broke the silence. “So…” he huffed out, nodding nonchalantly.

That was it. One word. A quiet, hesitant, and utterly infuriating word. You rolled your eyes, “Seriously, Rafe? That’s all you’ve got? So?” He looked up at you, his jaw tightening. “What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know,” you snapped, throwing your hands in the air. “Maybe start by explaining why you’ve been acting like a complete asshole? Especially at the bonfire. Do you even realize how out of line that was?” Rafe leaned back slightly while you tore into him, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Every time I think we’ve made progress, you pull something like that. You don’t get to act like you care one second and then push me away the next. You’re a goddamn mess, Rafe, and I’m tired of pretending it’s not affecting me!”

Your words came fast and heated, all the anger and hurt spilling out before you could stop yourself. “You don’t know what you want, and instead of dealing with your own shit, you make me your punching bag. And for what? Because you’re too scared to feel anything real?”

Rafe flinched slightly, your accusations hitting him hard. His hands curled into fists on his knees, but he didn’t fight back. He couldn’t. You were right, and he knew it.

Finally, he exhaled sharply, “I don’t know what to do, okay? I don’t know how to fix this—fix me.” his voice was low and strained. “That’s not good enough!” you yelled, your voice cracking. “You don’t get to destroy everything around you and then act like you’re the victim.”

Rafe’s head snapped up, his blue eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and desperation. “I’m not the victim. You think I don’t know what I’m doing? That I don’t hate myself for it?”

His voice rose, getting up abruptly and pacing around, “I know, alright? And seeing you with JJ makes me actually physically sick. I can’t fucking help that I’m still in love with you!” The confession hit you like a stroke, the words hanging in the air between you. For a moment, you were stunned into silence, staring at him as your heart pounded in your chest.

“You should be with me,” Rafe continued, his voice breaking. “Not him. Not anyone else. Me.” The rawness in his voice cracked something inside you. You’d seen Rafe angry, cruel, and broken—but this was different. This was vulnerability, his raw feelings laid right at your feet.

Your voice softened, trembling slightly. “If you love me so much, then why do you keep pushing me away?” He shook his head, his hands running through his hair as his body trembled. “I don’t know!” he shouted, his voice loud and ragged. “I don’t fucking know how to stop! I’m so screwed up, and every time I think I’m getting better, I just—” He cut himself off, his shoulders slumping as he buried his face in his hands.

The sight of him broke something in you, something you had tried so hard to get rid of. Rafe breathed out heavily, wiping over his face in frustration before he looked up again, his ocean blue eyes finding yours, and both of you stopped breathing for a second.

Suddenly there wasn’t any hatred or anger between you two, just a raw connection, a pull that had been always lingering underneath the surface since you’d returned, just like the one night in your room after you had patched him up.

But now couldn’t take it anymore. And before you could think it through you rushed toward him, closing the distance between you. You cupped his face, pulling his tall figure down to you and pressing your lips to his. Rafe froze for a heartbeat, his breath hitching against your lips. But then he kissed you back, hard and desperate, his hands gripping your waist like you were the only thing keeping him steady.

The kiss was overwhelming, all teeth and tongue and barely contained emotion. It wasn’t sweet or soft—it was raw, built on frustration and longing and every unspoken word between you. His hands moved up your back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging as the kiss deepened, your body pressing against his.

It was too much, and yet not enough. Every ounce of hurt and desire poured out in that moment, leaving both of you breathless. The kiss grew more frantic, more urgent, as if every pent-up emotion you'd both been holding back was pouring out at once. Your hands held onto his neck, your nails lightly grazing his skin, while his hands rested on your curves.

Without breaking the kiss, you pressed forward, pushing him back onto the worn-out couch. He let out a soft grunt as his back hit the cushions, his hands immediately settling on your round ass as you straddled him. The trailer's cramped space seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you and the heat building between you.

"Are you sure about this?" Rafe whispered through the kiss, his voice rough and low, scared that you might regret this, leaving him again. "Stop talking, Rafe." You muttered out, not getting enough of him.

His eyes darkened at your words, his grip on your ass tightening as you leaned down, capturing his lips in another kiss. It wasn't gentle or careful—neither of you wanted that right now. It was messy and intense. Your hands roamed over his chest, pushing aside the fabric of his black shirt to feel the warmth of his skin. Rafe groaned softly against your mouth, his own hands sliding under your top, fingers trailing up your spine and leaving your skin tingling.

"You're gonna drive me insane," he murmured against your lips, his voice full of both frustration and awe. "You already drive me insane," you shot back breathlessly, tugging his shirt up and over his head.

The air in the room felt heavier as the kiss deepened, your movements becoming more urgent. Rafe's hands gripped your thighs as you rolled your hips against him, earning a low growl from deep in his chest. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. The tension between you had been building for far too long, and neither of you had any intention of stopping it now. Clothes were shed piece by piece, falling to the floor.

Rafe's hands roamed over your bare skin, his touch slow and deliberate, savoring every inch of you. His lips trailed down the curve of your neck, leaving soft, lingering kisses that made your breath hitch. When his mouth found its way to your tits, you gasped, his warm lips wrapping around the sensitive bud as his hands caressed your sides, holding you close.

"Rafe," you whimpered out, your voice shaky, a mix of anticipation and need as you felt your arousal pooling between your thighs. His name on your lips only spurted him on, his mouth sucking harder, teeth grazing lightly in a way that made your back arch. Your hips began to move on their own, trying to get as much friction as possible, your slick folds grazing over his hard cock.

"You’re so beautiful," he murmured against your skin, inhaling sharply as he felt your eager cunt rub over him. Your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging lightly as he continued to worship you, his hands never staying still, exploring every curve of your body. But you needed more.

“please..need more.” You breathed out. He looked up at you then, eyes full of lust and need, still not believing that he finally had you again. You smiled as you lifted yourself up a little, reaching underneath you and lining his tip up with your entrance, letting it brush through your wet folds to lube it up. Rafe watched as you slowly sunk down on his cock, and he swore he could’ve cum right then and there.

“Shit—“ he cursed as he felt your plush walls embrace him, filling you up to the brim. You whimpered at the sudden fullness, looping your arms around his neck before slowly starting to roll your hips. That’s when you realized just how much you had actually been aching for this.

You started bouncing on his cock faster, making both of you moan out, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, placing soft and wet kisses there. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fucking missed you.” He breathed against your skin, his hands finding your hips as he noticed your movements growing sloppier.

“I’ve got you.” Rafe whispered through gritted teeth, holding you firm as he thrusted upwards, slamming into you at a rough pace so you could relax. “oh my god—“ you moaned out as his cock continuously hit your cervix, bringing you closer and closer to your release.

And Rafe could tell you were almost there from the way you were clenching around his cock, the noises of skin slapping and your dripping cunt filling the small room of the trailer. At this point you were a moaning mess, arching into him as you felt the wave of your orgasm rush over you, leaving your cunt fluttering around him.

“So fucking pretty when you cum.” He thrusted up into you relentlessly, eyes locked on your beautiful face, fucking you through your orgasm as he was still chasing his own. After a few more hard thrusts you felt him twitch inside of you, hips bucking up and painting you white from the inside, letting out one last groan, “shit.”

The quietness right after was heavy, only your exhausted breaths being heard, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Both of you were worn-out, little droplets of sweat plastered over Rafe’s forehead which you wiped away gently, brushing back his messy hair. Your touch was so tender it made something in his chest ache, a warmth he hadn’t let himself feel in far too long. He smiled at you, his hazy gaze making your tummy flutter in the best way possible.

Meanwhile Rafe’s breathing had slowed, his arms still draped securely around you as if he was afraid you might slip away. The heat of his body calming you. “I’m sorry,” he finally said, his voice breaking the silence. It was soft, almost hesitant while the words still felt heavy on his tongue.

He hated himself for every tear he’d caused you, every ounce of doubt he’d planted in your heart. “I mean it,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “For everything. For how I’ve treated you, for pushing you away when all I wanted was to keep you close… for hurting you when I swore I never would.”

You felt your chest tighten at his words, the raw sincerity in them cutting through the walls you’d built up. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he admitted, his voice trembling. “I get so caught up in my head, and this coke bullshit, it… it makes me feel like I’m in control. But I’m not. I’m spiraling, and I hate myself for dragging you into it.”

Tears welled in his eyes, and he looked away, his jaw clenching as he couldn’t bear to let you see him like this—weak, broken, a mess of a man who didn’t deserve your forgiveness. “But I don’t want to do it anymore. The emptiness, the anger, the self-sabotage. I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I can’t. Not again.”

You reached up, cupping his face in your hands and turning him back to face you. “Rafe,” you said softly, voice steady despite the emotions rushing through your chest. “It’s okay. I forgive you.” His breath hitched, his eyes searching yours as he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

“I mean it,” you continued, brushing your thumbs gently over his cheekbones. “I know you’re struggling, but you don’t have to do this alone. I’ll be here. I’ll stay by your side, no matter what. We’ll figure it out together, ray.”

His heart jumped a little at the nickname, as he hadn’t heard it leaving your lips in a long time. He closed his eyes for a moment, his jaw trembling as he processed your words, your forgiveness meaning everything to him, giving him a new chance to make it right this time. “I’ll stop,” he promised, “this coke shit—it ends now. I swear, I’m going to do better. For you. For us.”

You smiled softly, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to his lips. It wasn’t like the desperate, heated kisses from earlier. This one was soft, reassuring, a promise to the both of you. “I know,” you murmured against his lips before placing another kiss on his jaw, then his temple. “And I’ll be here to help you. You don’t have to do it alone.”

He pulled you closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck as his arms tightened around you. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered, his voice muffled. “Yes, you do,” you replied firmly, running your fingers through his hair. “I love you, Rafe.”

When the words left your lips, Rafe stilled completely, his mind struggling to catch up. You loved him. The three words echoed in his head, almost too good to be true. For a second, he thought he might have imagined it, but the way you looked at him, so full of hope and awe, left no room for doubt. He let out a shaky breath, his lips parting as he wanted to say something. Anything. But no words came out.

lnstead, he reached for you, his big hands cupping your face as he kissed you like he was pouring every ounce of his love and gratitude into you. He held you like you were his lifeline, and in that moment, you knew he meant every word he’d said. This time, he was serious. And you were ready to stand by his side as he found his way back. You had made your decision.

But then the peaceful silence between you and Rafe was suddenly interrupted by the sound of the trailer door creaking open. “Alright, lovebirds, you better have—” Barry stopped mid-sentence, his eyes widening as he took in the scene before him. You and Rafe froze, your legs still straddling him on the couch, Rafe’s shirt you’d hastily grabbed barely doing its job of covering you both.

“Aw, c’mon man!” Barry exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air dramatically. “You seriously fucked? On my couch?!” Rafe groaned, dragging a hand over his face while you tried to stifle a laugh, burying your head in his chest. “Barry, it’s not—”

“Don’t you dare say it’s not what it looks like,” Barry cut him off, glaring. “Because it’s exactly what it looks like! Jesus, Rafe, I said to fix things, not ruin my damn furniture!” You couldn’t hold back your laughter anymore, and Rafe shot you a look, though the corner of his mouth twitched as if he was trying not to smile.

Barry pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself while turning away so you two could get dressed. “I’m gonna have to burn this thing. Or sell it to some crackhead on Craigslist. Rafe, you owe me a new couch. Top-of-the-line, none of that secondhand bullshit.”

“Barry, relax,” Rafe said, trying and failing to keep a straight face. “We’ll clean it.” Barry retorted, “Oh, hell nah,” backing away from the couch like it was radioactive. “You think a bottle of Lysol’s gonna fix this? This couch is dead to me.”

“Barry, we’re sorry. Really.” Tears of laughter streaming down your face as you put on the last piece of clothing. “You can save the apology,” Barry huffed, pointing at the door. “Just get out. Both of you.”

Rafe smirked, standing and buckling up his jeans. “Thanks for the hospitality, Barry.” Barry shook his head, muttering under his breath as he opened the door for you both. “Unbelievable. Next time you two need to ‘talk,’ do it somewhere that doesn’t involve my shit.”

As you and Rafe stepped out into the cool night air, you glanced back at Barry, who was still grumbling to himself. “We owe you,” you called out, still grinning. “Damn right, you do!” Barry shouted back, pointing at Rafe. “I want that new couch by the weekend!”

As the door slammed behind you, Rafe grinned, slipping an arm around your waist, his heart feeling lighter for the first time in ages, like he could actually breathe without having to worry about anything. “I think that went well.” He chuckled. You shook your head, still laughing as you leaned into him. “Oh, definitely.”

LINKS .ᐟ series masterlist

TAGS .ᐟ @gibson-g1rl @beausling @rafesheaven @rafescokewhore @rafeysbunny @rafesangelita @drewspinkbunny @whinyangel @starzify @glitterybombshell @rafesweetie @rafey-baby @nativegirltapes @littlelamy @lizziesangel @maybankslover @cherrygirlfriend @httpsdrewstarkey @lilithblackkk

[geotjwrs]

Could you maybe do one where Jenna and Reader are working on Wednesday season 1 (They’re just friends but both like each other and haven’t told the other yet) and Percy (or literally anyone else) flirts with Jenna a bit, which makes Reader jealous. Jenna doesn’t notice at all how jealous Reader gets but their friends notice and eventually when Jenna is talking about Reader saying she wishes Reader felt the same way she feels about her the friends just straight up tell her about how jealous Reader gets, calling Jenna just blind cause it was very very obvious.

Jenna realises and confronts reader about it, not sure what could happen from there but yeah

Anyways I love your work you’re like one of my fave writers on here!! ❤️❤️

can't you see me

Pairings ; Jenna Ortega x Male!Reader

Warning/s ; none

The set of "Wednesday" was buzzing with the usual hustle and bustle of filming. Jenna and Y/N had become close friends since the start of production. They shared jokes, late-night talks, and a deep connection that neither dared to label as more than friendship.

During a break, Percy Hynes White strolled over to Jenna, exuding his usual charm. Y/N watched from a distance, his stomach twisting as Percy leaned in closer, his body language oozing flirtation.

"Hey, Jenna," Percy said with a grin, his eyes locked on hers. "After this, how about dinner? I know a great place."

Jenna giggled, twirling a strand of her hair. "That sounds nice, Percy. Maybe we can invite the whole cast."

Percy's smile faltered slightly, but he nodded. "Sure, the more, the merrier."

Jenna and Percy continued to chat, their conversation filled with laughter and playful touches. Y/N clenched his fists, trying to appear unaffected. Emma, who was nearby, gave him a knowing look.

"Dude, you're like an open book," Emma whispered.

"What are you talking about?" Y/N muttered, eyes still fixed on Jenna and Percy.

Emma rolled her eyes. "You're jealous. It's obvious. Why don't you just tell Jenna how you feel?"

Y/N sighed, frustration evident in his voice. "It's not that simple, Emma. We're just friends. She doesn't feel that way about me."

Emma smirked. "If you say so. But I think you're the one who's blind here."

Over the next few days, Y/N started to distance himself from Jenna. He avoided long conversations, kept his interactions professional, and immersed himself in his work. Jenna noticed the change and felt a pang of hurt and confusion.

"Y/N, do you want to run lines?" Jenna asked one afternoon, approaching him with her usual bright smile.

Y/N glanced up, forcing a smile. "Actually, I need to go over my scene with the director. Maybe later?"

Jenna's smile faded slightly, but she nodded. "Sure, later then."

As the days passed, Y/N's distance became more pronounced. He spent more time alone, listening to music in his trailer, and avoiding any situation where he might see Jenna with Percy.

One evening, after filming wrapped, Jenna decided she couldn't take it anymore. She headed to Y/N's trailer, determined to find out what was going on. She found him inside, earphones in, listening to Clairo's "Bags."

"Y/N," Jenna said, knocking softly before entering.

Y/N looked up, quickly pulling out his earphones. "Hey, Jenna. What's up?"

Jenna took a deep breath, her heart pounding. "We need to talk."

Y/N's smile faded, concern flickering in his eyes. "Is everything okay?"

Jenna nodded, stepping closer. "No, it's not. You've been so distant lately. Did I do something wrong?"

Y/N sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's not you, Jenna. It's just... complicated."

Jenna frowned, frustration bubbling up inside her. "Complicated? You've been avoiding me, Y/N. We used to be so close, and now you barely talk to me."

Y/N looked away, the weight of his emotions threatening to overwhelm him. "I just needed some space."

"Space?" Jenna echoed, her voice rising. "From what? From me?"

Y/N clenched his fists, feeling the anger and frustration boiling over. "From seeing you with Percy, okay? I can't stand watching you two together."

Jenna blinked, taken aback. "Percy? We're just friends, Y/N. Why does it bother you so much?"

"Because I like you, Jenna!" Y/N shouted, his voice cracking. "I've liked you for a long time, and seeing you with him... it hurts. Can't you see me, Jenna? I'm right here."

The room fell silent, the weight of Y/N's confession hanging in the air. Jenna stared at him, her mind racing as she processed his words.

"Y/N," she said softly, stepping closer. "I had no idea. I've been so blind. I thought... I thought you only saw me as a friend."

Y/N looked up, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and despair. "I didn't want to ruin what we had. I thought it was better to stay silent."

Jenna reached out, taking his hand in hers. "You didn't ruin anything, Y/N. I feel the same way. I've been too scared to say anything, but... I really like you too."

Y/N's eyes lit up with a mixture of disbelief and happiness. "Really?"

Jenna nodded, her smile bright and genuine. "Really."

From that day forward, the dynamic between Y/N and Jenna shifted. They were still the same playful friends, but now, there was an added layer of affection and understanding. During scenes, their chemistry was undeniable, drawing admiration from the cast and crew.

One day, while filming a particularly intense scene, Jenna and Y/N found themselves holding hands longer than necessary. The director noticed but didn't say anything, smiling to himself. During breaks, they would steal moments together, sharing quiet conversations and secret smiles.

As the final scenes of "Wednesday" wrapped up, the cast and crew gathered for a small celebration. Jenna and Y/N found a quiet corner, away from the noise.

"I can't believe it's over," Jenna said, her voice tinged with sadness.

Y/N smiled softly. "It's just the beginning for us, Jenna."

She looked up at him, her eyes shining. "Yeah, it is."

[darksturnz]

HANDS THAT SHAKE

CONTENTS:・angst-heavyish plot ・star!reader ・mild language ・mentions of blood (one time)・artist!chris is mean・drug dealing ・parent-child conflict + more WC: 2.1k. masterlist: here

recommended to listen on repeat. a song a dear friend of mine showed me! it’s very star + chris core.

The cough started small—quiet, barely noticeable. But over the last few days, it had grown louder, harsher, and wetter. Chris had ignored it at first, telling himself Evelyn always bounced back. But tonight was different. Tonight, when she pulled her hand away from her mouth, there was blood on her fingers.

“Shit,” Chris muttered under his breath, his pulse quickening. Lila sat cross-legged on the couch, her tiny hands clutching a crayon, oblivious to the chaos brewing in the room.

Chris rushed to grab his keys, his voice tense as he crouched down in front of his sister. “Lila, listen to me. I gotta take Ma to the hospital. Star’s gonna come over for a bit, okay?”

“Why? Is Mommy okay?” Lila’s voice trembled, her wide, tear-filled eyes already brimming with fear.

“She’s gonna be fine,” Chris lied, brushing her curls away from her face. “Just sit tight, alright? I’ll be back.”

He dialed Star as he helped Evelyn into the car, his words rushed and uneven.

Star arrived moments later, heart hammering in her chest at the urgency in Chris’s voice. Lila clung to her hand the second she walked in, her tiny body trembling.

“Do you wanna color?” Star asked softly, sitting beside her on the couch.

Lila shook her head, her lip quivering. “When’s my Mommy coming home?”

Star’s throat tightened. “Soon,” she said, forcing a smile. “She just needs the doctors to check on her.”

But the hours dragged on, and when Chris finally returned, his face was pale and drawn. He barely glanced at Star as he scooped Lila into his arms and muttered, “Thanks,” before disappearing into the trailer.

Evelyn was hospitalized again, and Lila hadn’t stopped crying since. Chris looked like a ghost—dark circles under his eyes, his movements stiff with tension. Star stopped by to check on them, bringing soup for Lila and snacks she hoped Chris might eat.

“She’s just upset,” Star said gently, placing the soup on the counter after Lila had run to her room. “She doesn’t understand what’s going on, be patient with her.”

Chris slammed the cabinet door shut, the sound making her flinch. “You don’t get it,” he snapped, his voice sharp. “You don’t know what the fuck I’m dealin’ with, Star. Stop actin’ like you do.”

Star froze, her chest tightening. “I’m not trying to act like anything, Chris. I just—”

“Just what?” he interrupted, his voice rising. “You think showin’ up with soup is gonna fix all this? News-Fucking-Flash: it doesn’t.”

Her throat burned, but she swallowed the lump forming there. “You’re just stressed,” she said softly. “You don’t mean it.”

His laugh was bitter. “Don’t tell me what I mean. You don’t know shit about me.”

Star blinked back tears, grabbing her bag. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she turned to leave. 

Star had tried to apologize a few days later but Chris ignored her, acting like she didn’t exist. The weight of his coldness pressed down on her chest, making the air in her trailer feel heavier than usual.

She sat on the couch, staring blankly at the TV when she heard the door slam.

“Star!” Danny’s voice thundered from the kitchen.

She quickly got up and retreated to her room, but seconds later, he barged in, the smell of beer clinging to him like a second skin.

“You think you’re too good to clean up your fuckin’ mess?” he barked, his eyes wild.

“What mess?” Star asked, her voice trembling.

“The dishes in the sink, your goddamn cat’s shit all over the floor! This place looks like a fuckin’ dump.”

“Sorry-..I’ll clean it,” she stammered, trying to keep her voice calm.

“You’re always ‘gonna do somethin’.’ You don’t do shit, Star. You just sit around in your dark little cave, feelin’ sorry for yourself.”

Star bit the inside of her cheek, her hands shaking as she tried not to react.

“All you’re good for is runnin’ away,” he sneered. “Thinkin’ the world owes you somethin’ just ‘cause your mommy died.”

Her stomach twisted painfully, tears pricking her eyes.

“You think you’re special? You’re not. You’re just like her—a fuckin’ quitter. Only difference is, she’s dead now, and it’s your goddamn fault.”

Star’s knees buckled as the words hit her like a physical blow.

“You’re so fuckin’ stupid,” Danny continued, his voice dripping with venom. “Dunno why that bitch thought one little essay was gonna save you. Look at her—dead now. Didn’t save shit, did it?”

The tears spilled over, silent and hot, as Star stormed past him, slamming the door behind her. The cold air bit at her exposed skin as Star ran, her breath fogging in the icy night. Her lungs burned, but she didn’t stop. She needed to move, to outrun the sound of his voice, the sting of his words. It always got like that, to the point where he was just speaking to hear his own insults, they never really related to whatever he was initially upset about. It felt like he just want a reason to let it out— someone to let it pour onto.

The streets of Pine View were empty, the world quiet except for the pounding of her heart and the slap of her sneakers against the pavement.

When she finally slowed, her breath came in ragged gasps. She hugged herself against the chill, her tears drying on her cheeks. Star’s footsteps slowed as she approached the convenience store. The flickering neon sign buzzed faintly in the cold night air, casting an eerie glow over the parking lot. She froze when she saw Chris’s car parked at the edge, tucked into the shadows.

Her breath hitched as the driver’s side door opened, and Chris stepped out, his hood pulled low over his face. Another figure approached him—taller, their hood up, movements quick and deliberate.

Star’s stomach twisted as she watched Chris pull something from his pocket: a small plastic bag. The other guy handed him a wad of cash before stuffing the bag into his own jacket and walking off without a word.

Chris lingered for a moment, shoving the cash into his pocket. As he turned back toward his car, his eyes landed on her. His body tensed, his gaze narrowing as he scanned the area around her.

“The fuck’re you doin’ out here?” His voice was low but sharp, cutting through the quiet like a knife.

Star’s mouth opened, but no words came out. She felt rooted to the spot, the weight of what she’d just seen pressing down on her chest. “I— I needed to get out,” she finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

Chris stepped closer, his brows furrowed. “At this hour? Alone?” His eyes darted around again, his suspicion obvious.

“I couldn’t stay there,” she said, her throat tightening. “What about you? What are you doing?”

He let out a short, bitter laugh, the sound grating. “Nothin’? Can’t leave my house without permission now or what!.”

Star shook her head, “Chris, please don’t lie to me. You don’t have to. I’m not stupid—I saw what you just did.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away, running a hand over his face. “You didn’t see shit,” he muttered, his voice low. “Jus’ drop it.”

“ M’not dropping it,” she said, her voice growing steadier even as her chest ached. “If it’s about money, I can—I can get a job. I can help. You don’t have to—”

“Help me?” He cut her off with a sour laugh, his tone biting. “You wanna help me, Star?” He stepped closer, his eyes dark and cold. “You can’t even fuckin’ help yourself. You get yelled at, and all logic flys out that pretty little head of yours and you run around this god forsaken town in the middle of the night like your invencible— you’re not.”

The words slammed into her, her breath catching as tears welled in her eyes. “That’s not—” she started, but her voice faltered.

“What is it then? Y’think you can fix shit? Y’can’t even handle your own life without fallin’ apart. stop actin’ like you got all the answers.”

The lump in her throat grew, and her vision blurred with tears. “I’m not trying to—”

He interrupted again, his voice cold and final. “You don’t care about me. You just wanna feel better about yourself. That’s all this is.”

Her chest tightened, the air around her feeling colder, sharper. The words hung between them, heavy and suffocating. Her tears spilled over, silent and hot, as she stared at him, her lips trembling.

Chris’s expression shifted for a split second—just enough for her to catch the flicker of regret in his eyes. But it wasn’t enough.

Without another word, she turned and ran, her breath hitching painfully as the tears blurred the world around her. She didn’t look back.

Chris stood there for a moment, his hands shoved into his pockets, watching her disappear into the night. His chest felt heavy, the weight of his own words pressing down on him like lead.

“Fuckin’ idiot,” he muttered under his breath, dragging a hand down his face. But instead of chasing after her, he turned back to his car, forcing himself to ignore the gnawing guilt in his gut.

Star’s legs burned as she stumbled up Madison’s porch steps, her breath coming in broken gasps. Her tears blurred her vision, making the small porch light above Madison’s door shimmer like a halo. She barely had the strength to lift her arm and knock, her hand trembling as she hit the wood.

The door opened almost instantly, and there stood Madison, her warm brown eyes widening as she took in the sight before her. Star was shaking, her arms wrapped tightly around herself, her hoodie soaked with sweat and clinging to her skin.

“Star?” Madison’s voice was soft but filled with alarm. She reached out, gently pulling Star inside before she could say anything.

The warmth of the house hit her like a wave, but it wasn’t enough to stop the shivering. Star stood frozen, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Madison’s hands were steady as they gripped her shoulders, her voice calm and soothing.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Madison said softly. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

Star shook her head, a broken sob escaping her lips. The dam burst, and the tears came fast and hard, her body trembling as she collapsed into Madison’s arms.

Madison didn’t hesitate. She wrapped her arms around Star, holding her tightly as she sobbed into her shoulder. “s’okay,” she whispered, her voice low and steady. “I’ve got you. You gotta breathe.”

Star clung to her, her fingers gripping the back of Madison’s shirt like it was the only thing keeping her upright. The sobs came in waves, shaking her entire body, her breath hitching painfully as she tried to calm down.

Madison guided her to the couch, sitting her down gently before disappearing for a moment. When she returned, she had a blanket and a glass of water.

“Here,” she said softly, draping the blanket over Star’s shoulders and sitting beside her. “Take your time. No rush.”

Star took the water with trembling hands, managing a small sip before setting it down on the coffee table. The blanket smelled like lavender, warm and familiar, and she pulled it tighter around herself.

Madison sat close but didn’t press. She simply placed a hand on Star’s knee, her thumb brushing back and forth in a soothing rhythm.

When the sobs finally subsided into quiet sniffles, Star found her voice, though it was barely a whisper. “ M’sorry.”

Madison frowned, her brows knitting together. “For what?”

Star shook her head, her voice breaking. “For showing up like this. For crying all over you. I just… I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Star,” Madison said softly, her tone firm but kind. She shifted closer, her hand still resting on Star’s knee. “You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. You can always come here, okay? Always.”

Star’s lip trembled, her eyes filling with tears again, but this time they didn’t spill over. She nodded, her throat tight as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Madison gave her a small, reassuring smile, her hand moving to gently rub Star’s back. “You’re okay now,” she said. “Whatever it is, we’ll figure it out. You’re not alone, never are with me.”

And finally Star felt a sliver of relief, It didn’t fix the ache in her chest, didn’t erase the weight of her father’s words or Chris’s cruelty. But in Madison’s small living room, wrapped in a lavender-scented blanket and the warmth of her best friend’s kindness, she felt wanted.

AUTHORS NOTE:i just dk ab this one uhhhdhdjfjjccnnfkeisixkd :,)

TAG LIST: @jetaimevous @sturnsblunt @riasturns @ifwdominicfike @chrissturns-wife @mattsmunch @pip4444chris @ribread03 @ariestrxsh @angelic-sturniolos111 @pvssychicken @mattslolita @stvrnzcherries @dottieboo @lovergirl4gracieabrams @bluestriips @sturniolo-fann @chrisslut04 @owensbabygirl @sturnslutz @st4rsturns

[rubycruzin4abruzin]

behind the curtain

Summary: Sequel to never been (stage) kissed. After shooting wraps, you and Ruby part ways. Eight months later, you see each other again at the premiere screening, and decide to “sneak away” during the after-party. How will you two navigate the paparazzi after they catch you in a compromising position?

Pairing: ruby cruz x actress!reader

Contains: mature language, adult humor, kissing, angst, fluff, hair playing, secret relationship trope, brief mention of an ED, publicity tweets and comments, invasive tabloids, the price of fame

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: This is a sequel to my previous RPF, so the RPF Guidelines still stand. This fic contains a very brief mentioning towards an ED, and should not be triggering (at least I don’t think so). I am not insinuating anything by this mention, it is simply meant to shed light on how invasive and presumptuous Hollywood can be. That being said, I had the most fun EVER writing this! Enjoy! :)

———

Ever since the first “kissing lesson,” you and Ruby had spent every on-set lunch break in her trailer. Nothing ever progressed beyond kissing, but with the way Ruby’s hands entangled themselves in your hair, and how she shivered every time your hand grazed her thigh, kissing was really all you needed.

Your mid-day rendezvous were kept a secret from the rest of the world. None of the cast or crew knew exactly what was happening when the door to Ruby’s trailer closed, but it was clear that something was working. Since the trailer lunches began, your on-set chemistry became palpable. It even got to the point where the director would shout words of praise after “cut!”

Eventually, like with all movies, filming began to wrap up. The last day on set, you and Ruby spent all of your down time wrapped in each other's arms, tears falling at the thought of parting. Everyone on set sympathized with the both of you, except for the makeup artist who kept having to touch up your alien makeup after every fallen tear.

You and Ruby promised to keep in touch, and you did for a little while. But daily FaceTimes eventually became weekly phone calls, which turned into sporadic texts, until silence settled between you, save for occasional likes on social media posts. You missed her terribly, and while your pride and fear of rejection kept you from reaching back out, you couldn’t help but wonder if she was missing you too.

About eight months after shooting wrapped for “Aliens of Atlantis,” you were going over sides for an upcoming audition when you got a call from your agent. Upon answering, she announced that “Aliens of Atlantis” post-production had wrapped, and the film had a scheduled premiere where the cast would be making an appearance.

A blissful daze settled across your face at this news. Your agent kept on talking about the when, the where, and the dress code of the upcoming premiere, but you were only half-listening. Her words mushed together, flying in one ear and out the other as the only thing that mattered to you consumed your mind.

You were going to see Ruby again.

On the morning of the premiere, you woke up with a knot in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if the cause was nerves or excitement, but you chalked it up to probably being a little of both. You tried everything to settle your stomach, from aspirin to deep breaths to simply distracting yourself with other tasks. Despite your attempts, when your driver arrived later in the day to take you to the premiere, the knot was still there and prominent as ever.

By the time you had arrived and were about to get out of the car, the knot had seemingly spread throughout your entire body, making you feel like an absolute disaster. You took out your phone and checked your reflection in the front-facing camera, just to remind yourself that you weren’t. In fact, you looked good. You were wearing a metallic blue floor-length gown as a not-so subtle nod to your alien character from the movie. Pale blue eyeshadow decorated your eyelids, and you left your hair down in loose face-framing curls. You knew the press would go crazy as soon as they saw you, and that thought alone gave you enough of a confidence boost to calm down a bit.

When the car pulled up to the red carpet, you took a deep breath and stepped out, immediately being bombarded with cameras flashing in your face. You blinked, overwhelmed at the bright lights, and quickly attempted to paste on a smile and act like this wasn’t your first red carpet event.

You stumbled down the red carpet and looked around for Ruby, but the constant camera flashes and bright lights made it difficult to see much. Every now and then you would stop to strike a pose and flash a pretty smile in some random direction, or answer one of the million questions being thrown at you.

“Who are you wearing?”

A fucking blue dress. “Valdrin Sahiti!”

“How do you feel about your first red carpet event?”

Overwhelmed. “So excited!”

“What are you most looking forward to tonight?”

Seeing Ruby again. “Everyone finally getting to see all the hard work from the cast and crew!”

After what felt like an eternity of paparazzi and bullshit answers to trivial questions, the end of the red carpet was finally approaching. You felt yourself let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. It wasn’t easy, but you managed to make it down your first red carpet without making a complete fool of yourself.

Eventually, the cameras seemed to dissipate, focusing on the next pretty young thing that had just arrived. You blinked, trying to restore your vision infringed upon by the blinding lights. Once you could see in front of you again, you looked up, and a gulp forced itself down your throat at what might have been the prettiest sight you’d ever seen.

There, standing at the end of the red carpet, was Ruby Cruz, radiant amidst the flashing lights.

Her gown was long and form-fitting, sporting bright streaks of color and a slit up one of her legs. Dark brown curls hovered above her shoulders and cascaded down the back of her neck, while glittery red eyeshadow made her blue eyes pop. She looked so natural, posing and smiling for the cameras, that you couldn’t help but feel a bit envious of her.

Upon seeing you, Ruby’s eyes brightened, and a goofy grin spread across her face. She walked towards you, wrapping an arm around your waist and instantly making the cameras go wild. Your cheeks flushed into a bright pink tint. You missed her touch, and having her arm wrapped around you like that almost felt like deja vu.

While the both of you posed for the flashing cameras, Ruby leaned down to your ear and whispered one single sentence, the answer to a question you didn’t need to ask.

“I missed you.”

Unsurprisingly, the movie premiere turned out to be a massive success. The audience was extremely receptive to the storyline, cheering and gasping at all the right moments. Critics even approached you after the screening to rave about your performance and promise a glowing review.

The after-party was held at a nearby banquet hall, decorated to look like the underwater city of Atlantis. Filk music blasted through speakers while an open bar served space-themed cocktails.

You were busy making your rounds, establishing connections with other attendees while sipping a ‘cosmonaut’ from the open bar. While posing for a photo with a fan, you couldn’t help but realize you hadn’t seen Ruby in a bit. You craned your neck to look for her, but she was nowhere to be found. You shrugged it off, thinking it’s just a big venue and you’d probably run into her at some point during the night.

After several photos, impromptu interviews, and business cards you had nowhere to put, you were exhausted. You tried to make yourself as invisible as possible, leaning against a curtain by the back wall and downing the last sip of your cocktail.

While scanning the room, you noticed some of your castmates appeared slightly tipsy. You felt bad for them, knowing their press interviews would come off as less than professional, but there was a small part of you that wished you had more to drink throughout the night. The party was fun, sure, but took a lot out of you, and alcohol was sure to make it more tolerable.

Suddenly, while you were immersed in watching a crew member profusely apologize to an intern she had drunkenly stumbled into, you felt a disembodied hand appear out of nowhere and wrap around your arm. The hand pulled you behind the curtain you were leaning against, causing you to gasp and drop your empty cup.

You whipped around to see who grabbed you, preparing to throw a punch or scream for help if you had to. Instead, your eyes softened and you lowered your fist upon seeing Ruby, standing there staring at you with a devilish smirk.

“Hi pretty girl.” She cooed, taking a step towards you.

“Ruby…” you half-whispered in shock, eyes traveling up and down her body. “What are you doing?”

“I missed you,” she rested her hands on your hips and bit her lip, letting an ounce of vulnerability shine through her otherwise confident exterior. “I missed this. I feel like we barely got to see each other all night.”

“Me too,” you responded, internally melting at the feeling of her warm hands on your torso.

You wrapped your arms around her neck and leaned close to her before a sense of paranoia made you backtrack. “Ruby, it’s a big party, what if someone sees us?”

Ruby simply shrugged, completely unbothered. “Like you said, it’s a big party. Our castmates are drunk, the press is too focused on capturing their embarrassing moments.”

Her words seemed to reassure you, and you pulled her close to you again, feeling the warmth of her body against yours. “I’m glad you pulled me away.”

Ruby crashed her lips against yours, forcing a soft moan to escape your throat. She pulled back, looking deep into your eyes and holding your face in her hands.

“Careful now. We don’t want anyone hearing us.”

You nodded, non-verbally promising to keep quiet before Ruby brought her lips to yours again. Both of you sighed into the kiss, eight months of absence making itself prominent with passion. She tasted like sweet nostalgia with a hint of coconut rum, probably leftover from a drink she had earlier.

Ruby pressed herself against you, and you grabbed at the back of her neck, desperate to be as close to her as possible. She kept her hands planted at your waist, thumbing over the metallic fabric of your gown. Each time her fingertips pressed into your sides sent electrifying shocks through your body, making your knees stutter and causing you to lean more into Ruby for balance.

You brought your hands up to play with one of her curls, prompting a gentle sigh to travel from her mouth into yours. A smirk appeared on your lips, realizing your beloved brunette enjoyed having her hair played with.

Just when you were about to fully take advantage of this newfound information, a sudden crash engulfed your ears, followed by a blinding light and a collective gasp. You and Ruby pulled away from each other, turning your heads to check out the commotion.

One of the interns had drunkenly stumbled into the curtain and pulled it down with him as he fell, leaving you and Ruby entangled in each other and completely exposed to the rest of the party.

All hell broke loose. Interviewers screamed questions from across the room while paparazzi cameras flashed in your face. Those without cameras pulled out their phones and filmed the both of you, desperate for their fifteen minutes of fame.

Anxiety overtook your body as you felt a lump rise to your throat and your heart sink to your feet. You turned to look at Ruby, eyes full of fear, but she wasn’t looking at you. She was looking straight at the flashing cameras, with an expression that made your blood run cold.

You had never seen her bright blue eyes filled with so much anger.

The pit in your stomach grew as you scrolled through the tabloid headlines and Twitter articles featuring your and Ruby’s “stunt” from the other night. This was bad. So bad, that both of your agents had gotten together to hire a public relations manager just for the situation.

Two days after the movie premiere, an emergency meeting was called. Five of you were called to the manager’s office, with both of your agents sitting on either side of him, and you and Ruby placed across from the three of them.

The manager, named Rick, held out his hand and you gave him his phone back, sick of scrolling through the headlines anyway. As far as you could tell, Rick didn’t seem like a bad guy, but it was clear Ruby didn’t feel the same. She hadn’t said a word throughout the entire meeting, instead keeping her arms crossed in front of her chest and pointing a cold glare towards the man in front of her.

She didn’t trust him, and everyone in the room knew it.

Rick gave the both of you a sheepish grin. “As you both can probably see, you’re kind of the flavor of the week right now.”

Ruby’s agent nodded in agreement. “I have a friend in New York, and she heard a rumor about an SNL sketch being written about the whole thing.”

Your agent sighed, clearly having heard the rumor herself. Ruby simply scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Is it really that big of a deal?” You piped up.

All eyes turned to look at you, making you shrink in your seat. “I mean, can’t we just wait for it to blow over? All we did was kiss at an after party.”

“It’s not like we were fucking, Rick.” Ruby growled through her teeth, causing a blush to appear on your cheeks.

Rick cleared his throat, uncomfortable with Ruby’s candidness. “Well it’s not really that simple…”

“No one knows what you are.” Your agent interrupted. “All the public knows is you were caught going at it like teenagers in a basement, and now the media is going to be on top of everything you do until they figure it out.”

Ruby’s agent nodded. “Before this, we wanted you both to appear single to the public. You’re both very attractive girls. People want you, and we want them to think they can have you.”

“But that’s not really an option now.” Rick pointed out. “Fortunately, both of you have pretty reputable status in Hollywood. People see two of their favorite actresses together, feedback is bound to be mostly positive.”

He opened up a notepad in front of him and started scribbling down something you couldn’t quite make out.

“I’m thinking, we take this relationship and go completely public. Social media posts, dates open to the paparazzi, everything. That way, the media won’t have to do any guess work and this whole thing will blow over sooner.”

Suddenly, Ruby stood up from her seat and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

“Ruby!” Her agent called after her.

She turned to flash an apologetic smile towards all the shocked faces staring back at her. “I’m sorry. She’s not usually like this. I’ll talk to her.”

She ran out of the room after Ruby, leaving Rick and your agent to go over the details of the plan. Their voices faded into the background as millions of thoughts swam through your mind. You had a bad feeling about this ‘public relationship’ idea.

How were you supposed to go public with your relationship, when you weren’t even sure if there was a relationship to go public with?

You adjusted your oversized hat and sunglasses while staring up at the cafe sign that read “Grind n’ Dine,” shuddering at the slightly suggestive name.

One week after the meeting with Rick, he worked with your agents to schedule a public date for you and Ruby, tipping off the press to make sure there was media coverage. Grind n’ Dine, a local business, had apparently paid Rick a large sum of money to schedule your date here in the hopes that the publicity would be good for business.

Taking a deep breath, you walked in through the restaurant doors and looked around. Several members of the press were already present, wearing cameras around their necks and sipping coffee at various tables. You breathed out a sigh of relief that they didn’t recognize you yet, thankful for your agent who suggested arriving in disguise.

In the very back of the restaurant, tucked into a booth, you spotted Ruby hiding behind a menu. She had her body and hair buried under a large black hoodie, and masked her face with sunglasses similar to yours. You made your way over to her, trying to act natural, and making sure to avoid press members as much as possible in case they recognize you before you’re ready.

You slid into the seat across from her and cleared your throat to alert her of your presence. She put down her menu and laid it flat, before tilting her sunglasses down to meet your eyes.

Her blue eyes, once lively and bright, were now bloodshot and emotionless. Dark circles hung like bags underneath them, as if she hadn’t slept in days. You felt a sharp pang in your chest. Ruby had never looked at you this way before, and you wished more than anything that she would stop.

“Ready for this?” She asked, her voice monotone and lifeless.

You gulped, nodding defeatedly. “As I’ll ever be.”

Ruby removed her sunglasses and pulled down her hood, shaking out her wild brunette locks. You followed suit, taking off your hat and slipping your sunglasses into your purse.

Almost immediately, members of the press recognized the both of you, and practically trampled the poor servers and other diners to get to your booth. Cameras were suddenly shoved in your face, followed by microphones and what felt like hundreds of pointless and rather invading questions.

“Is this a date? How would you define your relationship?”

“If you had to describe your sex life using only three words, what would they be?”

“Ruby! Do you think every liberal democrat should take home a migrant to show their support for the proposed open border policy?”

The two of you mumbled terse responses to some of the questions, and completely ignored others. After several minutes of verbal torture, a perky blonde waitress fought her way through the press and stopped at the end of your table. She sported a wide politician's smile not directed at the two of you, instead flashed to the surrounding cameras in search of fifteen minutes of fame.

“Hi guys,” she started, her voice unnaturally high pitched. “My name is Bethany, what can I get started for you today?”

“I’ll have a quinoa salad and cranberry juice, please.” You answered, handing Bethany your menu.

The press murmured imperceptible comments regarding your order, some even scribbling notes on napkins. “Quinoa… salad…”

“Just a coffee’s fine.” Ruby mumbled, order being followed by press comments as well.

As soon as Bethany walked away, the paparazzi shoved the cameras back in your face and bombarded you and Ruby with questions once more.

“Did you order cranberry juice because you like cranberry juice or because you have a UTI? How did you get this UTI?”

“I noticed you were the only one who ordered food. Could it be because you’re eating for two?”

“Speaking of, why didn’t you order food, Ruby? Are you battling some kind of eating disorder? Would you like to comment on it?”

“Enough!” Ruby exclaimed, perhaps louder than she should have.

Immediately, the press was silent, with only the sound of sporadic camera clicks being heard. Ruby turned to look at you, tears starting to well in her tired eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t do this…” she whispered, getting up and running out of the restaurant.

“Ruby! Wait, please!” You stood up and ran after her, leaving the paparazzi in the dust behind you.

You found Ruby leaning against a building across the cafe. She had her head resting against the cool brick, and her face pointed to the sky while she blinked back tears threatening to fall.

A lump formed in your throat as you started to approach her. You couldn’t stand to see her like this. She looked so… miserable.

“Ruby…” you muttered softly, reaching out your hand.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at the concrete, refusing to look you in the eye. “I just wasn’t hungry! It’s barely ten in the fucking morning!”

You sighed. “Ruby, we both know that’s not what this is about. What’s going on?”

She sniffed, and focused her gaze on something behind you. “Can we… go somewhere else?”

Turning to see what Ruby was looking at, you noticed a teenage girl filming the two of you on her phone. You rolled your eyes, completely exasperated at this point.

“Let’s go.” You muttered, grabbing her hand to pull her away.

It didn’t take long to find a nearby alleyway, deserted except for an empty dumpster. You dragged Ruby into the back, letting go of her hand once the coast was clear.

“Talk.”

The pale brunette pushed her bangs out of her face, blinking a couple times while gathering her thoughts.

“I just… this is why my Instagram is private. This is why I’ve never explicitly labeled my sexuality. This is why I rarely talk about my personal life! I don’t want the media invading my space! I don’t want random strangers knowing intimate details about my life! It’s fucking freaky!”

You nodded, understanding her perspective, especially as you’d been recently dealing with the wrath of the paparazzi as well. She continued.

“I mean fuck! I can’t even order a damn coffee without some tabloid claiming I have a fucking eating disorder!”

Her breathing seemed to be evening out the more she spoke. She let out a shuddering breath and crossed her arms, staring at the gravel beneath her feet.

“I just… I just wanted to kiss you at an after-party. I missed you. And now everyone’s forcing us to be in this relationship and make it public but…”

“But no one asked us if we were even together,” you finished.

She nodded. “Exactly! We never even had a conversation just between us. Everyone just assumed.”

You pulled the brunette girl into your arms, wrapping them around her torso. She buried her face in the crook of your neck as you stroked her soft locks.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “If I had known that’s how you felt…”

“No.” She interrupted. “It wasn’t you. You didn’t do anything, I… listen…”

She pulled away, and you felt a pit form in your stomach. You waited for her to tell you that she didn’t want to see you again, that it was too hard, that it meant nothing.

You held your breath as she took your face in her hands, her blue eyes piercing into yours.

“I like you.”

“You… huh?” Shock painted your features as Ruby said the last thing you were expecting to hear.

“I like you.” She repeated, the corners of her mouth slightly upturned. “I meant it when I said I missed you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you the entire eight months we didn’t talk. I should have reached out more, I don’t know why I didn’t. I guess I was scared? I don’t know…”

She was babbling, and you didn’t think she could get any cuter. You took her hands off your face and held them in yours, flashing her an encouraging smile.

“I like you too,” you replied giddily. “More than you know.”

Ruby chuckled, a faint blush tinting her cheeks. She stared down at the gravel again, chewing on her lip before speaking.

“I like you… I really do, but if we’re gonna start this… something, I’d want to take it slow and be completely private. No socials, no media, at least for now. Would… that be something you’re okay with?”

You squeezed her hands, flashing her a goofy grin. “I would… love that, actually.”

As you stared at your former celebrity crush, turned co-star, turned friend, turned… something, a wave of courage suddenly washed over you. Letting go of her hands, you seized her face and brought your lips to hers, tentatively, testing the waters. She gasped, but soon kissed back, sighing as she wrapped her arms around your neck and leaned into your body.

You moved your hand towards the back of her neck, then slowly inched upwards until your fingers were entangled in her hair. An almost inaudible moan escaped her lips and vibrated against yours as you played with her soft tresses. You smirked into the kiss, remembering exactly how much she liked having her hair played with before getting caught at the after-party.

Finally, after what could have been an eternity, you pulled away from each other. The two of you gasped for breath, both smiling like giddy children at the other.

“So… what now?” You asked breathlessly.

Ruby hummed to herself, seemingly in thought. “We could… go on a real date? Just you and me? No paparazzi. There’s this great little hole-in-the-wall place I like to go to when I don’t want to get recognized.”

You tilted your head, shooting her a lopsided smile. “That sounds perfect, actually.”

Before leaving the alleyway, Ruby put her sunglasses back on and pulled her hood over her head again, while you dug your sunglasses out of your purse and readjusted your hat. The two of you were disguised, hidden from the world, but happy to be able to pursue each other away from public opinion.

Ruby reached out her hand, her blue eyes somehow still managing to shine behind her sunglasses. “Ready for this?”

You smiled back at her, taking her hand and intertwining her fingers with yours. “As I’ll ever be.”

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Tattooed heart

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have tattoos everywhere and your girlfriend suffers from severe anxiety. You learned to walk around with Sharpies to help her out.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. TW for anxiety attacks.

MASTERLIST

The room was crowded to the point where you couldn’t even see the exit doors in the back.

That always made you a bit nervous, of course, but mostly because it usually meant your interview would go on forever until people were satisfied by it. Those types of venues were always endless, but it was even worse when there were so many people attending the panels. Don’t get it wrong, you love attending the coms and meeting the fans to debate the characters and movies, and just the entire MCU universe as a whole, but you were only human and, after spending so long being a part of this, you got a bit tired.

Although the interview was going on forever, you weren’t surprised by the amount of people reunited to see you guys talking. It was hard to have most of the Marvel actors in one single interview, after all, so you were already expecting people to crowd the room and want to ask everyone a million questions. The new Avengers movie was coming up, the trailer had dropped just the day prior, and people were excited to know more. You couldn’t blame them.

You had been listening to Evans give out an overly complex reply to a question someone made him for a while now when you noticed Elizabeth squirming in her chair beside you. She was sitting to your right at the large table where you all were and she had answered a few questions as well, although that was the first time you noticed that she wasn’t moving out of boredom or to adjust in her chair again. She was restless, you noticed by the way she looked down at her legs and by the way her fingers pulled at her dress as if she was trying to get rid of a crinkle that didn’t exist.

Over the years, you learned to read her.

When you first met, three years ago, you were immediately drawn to Elizabeth. At the time, she had red hair thanks to her Marvel character, she was wearing black clothes and she had a fake scar above her eyebrow since you met between takes of the new movie you were both going to be a part of. That wasn’t your first Marvel movie, neither was hers, but that was the first time you were going to share the screen. You had heard about her before, obviously, but nothing had prepared you for how it would feel to meet Elizabeth Olsen in person.

You felt attracted to her since the first day, but you weren’t brave enough to make a move, so you spent the next two months of shooting crushing on her in silence - at least to her because you sang like a canary to all of your castmates to the point where they had to make an intervention because no one could take more of your daydreaming about Elizabeth without doing anything about it. That worked, though, and you found yourself sweating like crazy just a week before the movie wrapped while you waited for Elizabeth to finish her scenes for the day.

You had been nervous for no reason, as your castmates predicted, because Elizabeth said ‘yes’ after you managed to spit out your question and you both went for your first date two days later. That night, Elizabeth admitted she wanted to ask you out since the first day too, but she couldn’t bring herself to do it.

“I’m glad you’re more brave than I am,” she whispered shyly when you were holding hands on top of the table. “I’m too anxious to have managed to actually ask you out.”

But that had been it.

You have been inseparable ever since.

Well, besides when you were both working, of course. You hadn’t made any more movies together since your characters took different turns, but you and Elizabeth were able to move heaven and Earth to make your relationship work no matter what.

As the years went by, you learned to read Elizabeth as easily as an open book. You knew when she was stressed and needed to spend some time in her garden to relax. You knew when Elizabeth was cooking because she wanted to, when she was doing it because she had to eat and when she was stress-cooking. You knew when she liked the movie you were watching by the way she bit her lip and when she couldn’t care less about what was on the TV by the way she kept sighing. There were many little things about Elizabeth that you took notice of over the years, things that you carefully stocked in your memories because they were all details that made you love her more and more every day.

However, there was one thing you made a bigger effort to keep track of.

Her anxiety.

Elizabeth has been suffering from severe anxiety for many years now. She had talked about it in interviews and other things, but no one could understand the magnitude of her anxiety attacks unless they experienced it in person. You had been there to a fair share of them since you met, from the smaller ones where she would complain about feeling like a small weight in her chest to the bigger ones where you had to rush her to the hospital because you honestly thought she was about to have a heart attack. Since that day, you had vowed to always be attuned to the signals of her crisis so you could help Elizabeth get out of them before things got too hard for her to handle.

Elizabeth used to apologize every single time about it, about how she sometimes wouldn’t want to leave the house, how sometimes she would ask you to leave the restaurant that took you both so long to get a table at, how sometimes she needed to sit in complete silence to get herself together, but you always made sure to tell her it wasn’t her fault. Elizabeth had struggled with anxiety, panic attacks and social anxiety for many years now not because she wanted to, but because the media had chased her since she was young and she had grown in fear. That was something she struggled with and something you could help her with.

Or try your best, at the very least.

Since you knew about all of this, you easily realized Elizabeth’s anxiety was making an appearance, slipping through her very strong grip. You could see by the way her green eyes started moving around without focusing on anything, how her jaw clenched, how her breath became heavier and how her fingers kept picking at her dress. Evans was still talking and there was a microphone in front of you, not to mention how there were literally hundreds of eyes and cameras staring at you at that moment, so you couldn’t take her hands and ask her to breathe with you like you usually did.

You had to think fast, however, because Elizabeth’s anxiety escalates quickly and you wouldn’t want that to happen in a room filled with strangers since that was probably the reason why it was happening anyway. Elizabeth had gotten better at dealing with attending those events, giving interviews and talking with fans, but that didn’t mean she didn’t struggle every once in a while. It was still something that wasn’t easy for her, something that made her natural instincts ask her to run away as fast as she could.

Those long interviews made you tired, but they absolutely terrified Elizabeth. She hated the crowded room because she couldn’t spot the exit and her brain would play little tricks at her saying that, if something bad happened, there weren’t enough emergency doors to take everyone out safely. The cameras pointed at her made her overly conscious of every move she made, afraid of what people might capture to spread around. The screams and yells that the fans let go every once in a while made her ears hurt and her insides churn. It was awful.

Averting your eyes so people wouldn’t notice you had been watching her, you placed a gentle hand on her thigh under the table to offer her some comfort. That made Elizabeth jump in surprise, though, since she hadn’t been expecting it, so you quickly removed your hand and offered her a small smile in apology when she glanced at you. You felt bad about it, especially when you noticed the fear in her eyes, but you still tried to calm her down by offering her a smile.

Some of her tension washed away and her shoulders relaxed enough for you to feel safe to touch her again. When your hand touched her thigh this time around, Elizabeth was expecting it and she allowed the touch with a sigh. She threw you a thankful look before turning her head to the side to pay attention to what was being said in case anyone decided to pull her into the conversation, something you also tried to do.

Luckily - so damn luck, indeed - the interview ended just a few minutes after that. You played your part waving at the fans and offering them smiles, but you still held Elizabeth’s hand to pull her away from there as fast as you could without actually running. You were both sitting in the middle of the large table so it wasn’t an easy task. However, your eyes met Zendaya’s eyes for a moment and the girl wasted no time trying to discreetly move everyone out of the way so you could walk past with Elizabeth.

You took your girlfriend backstage and avoided everyone who tried to talk with you on the way until you found a quiet corner to sit down with her. You sat her down on top of a large technical equipment box and you jumped up to sit beside her, already shoving your hand inside your pocket to remove the three Sharpies you had taken with you that day. Green, blue and lilac were the colors you took from the case before leaving the hotel room that afternoon, and you didn’t think twice before handing them to her.

“Come on, I’m your canvas,” you told her lightly while reaching out your arm to her.

Your right arm was filled with tattoos from your shoulders to your wrist. That was something that made many casting directors frown to, but you loved it. That’s the way you find to express yourself and something you cherish. The tattoos were all blackwork, which means they didn’t have any colors added to them, and they were all different drawings that entwined between them thanks to the amazing work of your tattoo artist.

The first time Elizabeth ever drew on your skin was when you took her to the hospital that fateful day. You had seen your girlfriend looking so sad and scared lying down in a hospital bed after the doctor left saying it had been an anxiety attack that you just had to do something. You knew Elizabeth liked to use her hands to help herself calm down because she would run to her garden and spend hours there tending to the plants, putting her hands in the dirt and delicately touching every leaf. That’s why you took the pen that the doctor left behind without noticing and started to look for something she could write on, but there was nothing.

So, you just handed her the pen and told her to write something on your arm.

Elizabeth had looked at you like you were insane for even suggesting it and it took you a while to convince her to give it a try, however, it played out perfectly in the end. Elizabeth spent hours using the blue pen to color your tattoos and it did wonderful things to her anxiety. When the doctor returned, he was happy to say she was good to go and you were just glad that Elizabeth was back to her usual self asking you if you could stop somewhere to eat.

It wasn’t a perfect solution. It was temporary since it usually just calmed her down enough to keep going for a few more hours, but Elizabeth still needed to fully relax in silence, go to her garden or take a warm bath to avoid any real crisis. But that didn’t stop you from buying several Sharpies from different colors to have them around anytime she might need them. You made a habit out of walking around with them inside your pockets and Elizabeth stopped resisting using them to draw on you.

Sure, Elizabeth suggested she buy a notepad to carry with her, but you told her you didn’t mind being her personal canvas. You liked how she touched your skin gently with one hand while she used the other one to color your tattoos. You found it mesmerizing how she managed to make different details every time she drew on you. And you were just glad to be able to help her. Of course, you told Elizabeth it was okay if she preferred to have some paper to draw on, but luckily she didn’t argue against painting your arm instead.

It worked.

And that would have to do because you couldn’t take her to the hotel room you were sharing yet and it was clear that Elizabeth wasn’t feeling great.

“No,” your girlfriend said without taking the Sharpies from you. “We still have more interviews today.”

“Exactly,” you argued. “That’s fine. You know I don’t mind it.”

“People will make questions,” Elizabeth insisted, but it held no real resistance behind her words anymore. She was already taking the pens from you and you smiled happily at that.

“Let them,” was your reply.

A second later, Elizabeth took the green Sharpie to start painting one of the tattoos on the back of your arm.

When your castmates found you both, your skin was a mix of green, blue and lilac already, and Elizabeth's full attention was on the task in her hands. She didn’t look about to lose her mind anymore, her breathing was normal again, her hands weren’t shaking and her frown was purely because she was trying to keep the colors inside the line and not because she was in panic. Your friends gave you space because they didn’t want her to feel crowded again, but Holland lent you his jacket while you were all walking to the next interview to avoid questions and Elizabeth kissed your lips just before going on stage.

“You’re the best girlfriend in the world,” Elizabeth whispered against your skin.

You shrugged it off and leaned to kiss her forehead. “I love you,” you reminded her gently aware that you would climb every mountain and swim every ocean to make her happy.

[dakotalun]

You Belong With Me | Eddie Munson

pairing: Modern!Eddie Munson X Fem Reader

summary: Part 2--Eddie gets a special visit...but it hurts more than it helps.

warnings: drug use, language, mentions of cheating, sad Eddie

word count: 4.2k

a/n: I've estimated about 7 or so parts to this series and I will be working on them for the next couple of weeks.

*******NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS*******

“Yeah I’m coming!” Eddie says from his room, getting up from his bed and pressing the butt of his blunt into the ashtray on the nightstand. He had been laying in bed, listening to Ozzy, smoking and drinking a beer after he got back from the basketball game a little while ago.

He was pissed at you for yelling at him earlier and bailing on him when it was so out of character for you to do so. But it was nice just sitting under the bleachers alone, oogling the love of his life. Another knock comes as he exits his room, “I said I’m coming-” He swings the front door open and it reveals a sad and red eyed Chrissy.

“Shit Chrissy, are- are you okay?” Eddie steps aside and allows her to enter the trailer.

“Hey Eddie. Sorry to just come over unannounced and all,” Her voice is strained but steady, as if she’s used to speaking after crying.

“No no it’s fine. What’s going on?” He walks over to the couch and sits down, Chrissy following after.

“Jason and I got into a big fight after the game tonight,” Eddie’s ears burn at the thought of Jason being a dick to such a sweet girl then return to normal after thinking about the fight he just had with you, “And I couldn’t be around him anymore so I went for a walk. I thought about things on the way then noticed that I was almost to here and decided to stop by.”

Eddie’s surprised at the words coming from her. She thought of him and decided to stop by, could this be his lucky day?

“Aw I’m sorry that sucks. What can I do to help? Do you need me to go beat him up? Cause I will, I’ll do it right now.” His tone is upbeat and happy but he means every word.

A smile creeps onto Chrissy’s face showing her perfect teeth, “No, no. Nothing like that. I was just wondering if you could, um,” She hesitates, nervous to ask the question.

Eddie puts a reassuring hand on her knee, this being the second time in 2 weeks that they’ve touched. “I’ll do anything, just say the word.” His doe eyes wide and full of truth.

“Can I get some weed or pills or something? I’ve not been in the best headspace lately and I just need something to take the edge off.”

Those were not the words he thought she would say, not in a million years. His face grows warm, nervous about selling to Hawkin’s most famous IT girl. He needs the money but he feels bad for taking it from her, she doesn’t look like she’s taken anything stronger than a baby aspirin in her life, and now she wants weed or pills.

“Are- are you sure? Have you ever smoked before?” She shakes her head, “I know I said anything but I don’t know if I can,”

“Oh,” Her head falls down, clearly disappointed at his words, “That’s okay. It was stupid for me to come here anyway. I’ll get out of your hair, let you get back to whatever you were doing.” She stands up, hands running over her short skirt, both out of nervousness and to cover her ass.

Eddie shoots up quickly not wanting her to leave, “Wait! I mean if you really want some weed then I’ll give you some but on one condition.”

Her baby blue irises meeting his dark brown ones, liek two oceans colliding, “What condition?”

“You gotta smoke it with me. Can’t have you choking to death after taking one puff incorrectly, so? We gotta deal?” He holds his hand out for her to shake, needing another form of touch with her.

“Deal.” Her tiny hand is engulfed in his, the warmth of her skin seeping into his palm.

Eddie tells Chrissy to stay in the living room while he goes and gets a joint and lighter from his room. Returning only a few seconds later he plops down on the couch, exhaling a loud sigh.

“So I’ll start it off for you then I’ll show you how to take a hit correctly,” Chrissy nods at his words.

Eddie puts the blunt into his mouth, cupping his free hand around it to shield the imaginary wind as he lights it, taking a few short puffs just to get it started for her. Once he’s satisfied with his work he pulls it from his lips and hands it to her.

Chrissy looks at it weirdly, not even knowing how to hold it. Eddie notices this and opts to just guide the butt just past her lips, her strawberry lipgloss covering the paper. She looks at him every step of the way, not wanting to do it wrong.

“Alright now all you’re gonna do is breathe in slowly,” She follows his words, taking a slow, deep breathe in, “Good. Good, now,” He pulls his fingers and the blunt away from her lips, “Hold it in for a second until you start to feel that burn in your chest, then exhale.”

She holds for a short second before falling into a coughing fit. Eddie goes to rub her back, soothing the burn he knows all too well from his past. She takes a little to regain her barings again before sitting back up and leaning into the worn out couch.

“Okay that is not as easy as you make it look,” Her voice is hoarse, which Eddie only finds attractive.

“Don’t worry sweetheart, the more you do it the less it hurts,” He takes a long hit, letting the smoke fill his lungs for far too long.

“Okay then, guess I’ll have to try again then,” Eddie just nods and takes another hit before handing it back to her. She follows his steps the same way, only this time she isn’t coughing up a lung.

“Nice job. You’re a natural.” Eddie smiles and the two of them sit there just enjoying the peace and sharing a smoke.

Once it’s down to its last little bit, Eddie puts it out and leans deep into the couch, spreading his legs wide in the process. He lays his arms over the back and looks up at the ceiling. He’s always loved doing this after a good smoke, just sitting there, staring at the ceiling and allowing his mind to wander and eventually go blank.

Chrissy is sitting beside him still, more relaxed than before which brings a smile to Eddie’s lips. The room has been quiet for a while and Chrissy has a question that she’s been meaning to ask.

“So, why do you do it?” SHe says after clearing her throat a little.

“Do what?” He doesn’t look at her, still focused on the ceiling above.

“Why do you act the way you do? Why play that game and listen to that music? You do realize it’s not normal right?” This catches his attention, he brings his head up to look at her, her eyes drifting from his face to her lap where she fiddles with her hands.

“Why are you with Jason when you know he’s sleeping with half the girls at the school?” Eddie’s feeling feisty now, not pleased with the sudden line of questioning.

“I asked you first.” Chrissy retorts back.

“I don’t know what you mean. I act the way I do because that’s who I am, and I play D&D because I find it fun and thrilling. Being normal ’s just not for me, trust me on this one sweetheart.”

“But it could be. If you tried, then you wouldn’t have everyone staring at you and calling you a freak.”

“Yeah but you forget one thing,” Eddie’s sitting up right now, hands on his knees as he gets closer to her. Her eyes are looking at him again, scanning his face quickly, almost worry in her eyes.

“What’s that?” Chrissy’s voice is small and weak, Eddie’s presence now intimidating as he gets right up in her face, a mere inch apart.

“I don’t give a damn what people think.” Chrissy is staring into his eyes now, completely locked in and focused. 

“Your turn, why Jason?” Eddie really is curious as to why she’s with him, and he know’s it can’t only be for the social status, “And don’t say because he’s captain of the laundry basket game.”

“It’s called basketball and I wasn’t going to say that. I like him because he’s sweet and kind and always does the best for others.”

Eddie can’t believe the words she just used to describe him, “Jason? Like Jason Carver, the one who bullies me relentlessly and judges people if they breathe the wrong way? That Jason?”

“Yes Eddie, that Jason.” 

“But how?”

“I know he’s not the best to be around during school but that’s just because his dad is a jackass who won’t get off his back about basketball and his grades. He’s stressed all the time and just needs a break. And when he’s with me he’s thi sweet guy who doesn’t care what others think, just wanting to be the best he possibly can be.”

Eddie looks at her, mouth wide like a fish that’s trying to get air after being pulled from the water. Never in his 20 years of life did he think that he would hear someone say those things about Jason, especially in his trailer! It felt like an out of body experience.

“Can I ask you another question?” Chrissy is looking at him, ignoring the stunned expression.

“Uh sure. But this is the last one.”

“What’s up with you and y/n?” “Nothing, why?” The hair on the back of Eddie’s neck stand up at the mention of you.

“I didn’t se her with you today at the game and I was just curious. I mean you two are always together, even Jason and I don’t spend that much time together. Guess you guys just have a good relationship.”

“Woah woah woah. Y/n and I aren’t in a relationship. She’s just a friend.”

Chrissy gives him a quizzical look, not fully believing him, “Uh huh, so you guys just carpool together and walk to classes together and eat lunch together because you’re friends?”

“Yes. We do,” Eddie sits up straighter now, feeling like he has to assert dominance in this situation.

“Okay then. I was just wondering,” Chrissy is looking directly in his eyes now, analyzing the vast space of his irises.

His eyes are cool and calm, whilst hers are wide and a little curious. Eddie’s gaze dips from hers to her lips then back up again. Her lipgloss is pretty much gone, most of it on the end of the discarded blunt. They are soft and pink, not at all chapped and worn like his.

Eddie’s feeling bold and a little angry right now. Bold from the weed and angry at you for not believing that he could have Chrissy if he wanted to, so his next moves weren’t quite thought out. So before either of them knows it his lips are on hers. Chrissy gasps into the kiss, it quickly being muffled by his mouth. She knows she should pull away, she knows she shouldn’t be kissing anyone other than Jason, especially Eddie “The Freak” Munson, but his lips taste different and the way he holds himself is in high contrast from Jason.

So she leans in a little, giving back to what Eddie is giving her. They kiss for what feels like forever to Eddie but in actuality it was only a few seconds before she pulls away.

“I-” Chrissy tries to speak but the words fall silent on her tongue before she can even get them out.

“Shit, I’ve been wanting to do that for so fucking long. It’s even better than I imagined,” Eddie has his world famous grin on, happy to have finally made a move on his dream girl. He starts to lean back in for another kiss when one of Chrissy’s small hands touch his chest, pushing him back.

“What? What’s wrong?” Eddie’s concerned now.

“It’s, um, it’s Jason. I can’t do this to him.”

“But the guy is a jerk, you can do better than him,” Eddie puts his hand over the one onhis chest, “I can treat you better than he can.”

Her eyes are still downcast, not even daring a quick glace up to his. She slips her hand out from under his, letting it fall into her lap again. “Eddie I’m sorry. Really I am, but I can’t. I love him, and he loves me.”

The words are like acid to Eddie’s ears, his face burning at the sound. His body goes numb as he falls back into the couch. Chrissy is talking but he can’t understand her, being rejected is already too much to bear.

“You should go.” His voice is cold, harsh; he barely recognizes it himself.

“Yeah, um okay.” She gets up, gethers her things then rushes out the door. The sound loudly reverberating off the walls of the tin can Eddie calls a home.

He sits there. For a good 10 minutes he just sits there, thinking. Thinking about how he just kissed his dream girl, about how her lips felt on his, how good her lipgloss tasted on his tongue, how much he wishes it could’ve lasted longer, how he hates himself to doing it in the first place.

Eddie’s been dreaming of that moment since he was in 7th grade. He hoped she would be his first, in everything; first girlfriend, first kiss, first to have sex with him-he hoped for it all. Now he’s left sitting here, rejected and cold and alone.

What makes him feel worse is that he can’t even go talk to the one person he knows would make him feel better because she’s mad at him for something she was ultimately right about. He just wishes he could take this entire day back and start over.

---

All night you had been laying in bed and wracking your brain for all the possible ways to make it up to Eddie. Going through all these years of friendship the two of you share, thinking of all the things Eddie loves; weed, horror movies, milkshakes from Jay’s Diner, and the cookies you make.

You get up from your bed, the bright light of the rising sun peaking through your curtains. You could only sleep for a few hours that night, too afraid that you had ruined your best friendship. Throwing the blankets off yourself you get ready for the day, choosing comfort more than style.

An hour later you are standing in front of Eddie’s trailer, cookies and milkshakes in hand as you carry a bag of all his favorite horror movies you had just gotten from Family Video. You clock that Wayne’s truck is still outside even though he is normally on his way to work by now, but you don’t pay much attention to it as you knock on the door.

You wait for a few seconds and then are faced with the older man with salt and pepper hair.

“Hi Wayne.” You greet with a smile on your face.

“Hey honey, you here for Ed?” He moves aside to let you in.

“Yeah we uh got into a little fight last night and I wanted to check in on him. Brought milkshakes and cookies.” You hold up the items in your hand. Wayne smiles at your gesture, one Eddie would be sure to love as well.

“He’s been real upset today. Hasn’t said a word to me since I got back from work this morning, rarely comin’ outta that room a his.”

You’re confused for a minute at his words. Eddie seemed mad at you sure but to go as far as to lock himself in his room all day, that was dramatic, even gor him. The look on your face must’ve clued Wayne in on the fact that you had no clue what he was talking about.

“If ya don’t mind, may I ask what you fought about?” HE rubs the back of his neck, a thing Eddie does when he too is nervous, “Possibly get an idea as to why he’s like this.”

“Well he wanted to go to the basketball game last night but I wasn’t feeling up for it. I had tried a few times to tell him I didn’t wanna go but he’s a stubborn one,” Wayne nods his head and smiles a little, “I let my anger get to me and accidentally yelled at him, saying things I did and didn’t mean. But I didn’t think he would be that mad about it, not enough to lock himself inside for hours.”

The two of you standing there in silence, contem,plating all the other reasons for Eddie’s behavior today. The older man looks at his watch then sighs, knwoing it’s time to go to work but not wanting to leave his nephew.

“Go ahead. I’ll see if I can get to him, I’ll call you about what happened later.” Wayne gives you a reassuring smile and a squeeze on the arm before heading out the door and to his late night job.

You take a deep breath in and out, calming your nerves. You set the milkshakes into the freezer, not wanting them to melt as the two of you talked before heading down the short hallway to the metalhead’s room.

It’s rare to see Eddie’s door closed, always an open book in his own house. You knock on his door 3 times, a special order to them, signaling that it was you who was outside of it. Eddie was the one who suggested the two of you got a secret knock, being that both of your parental figures tended to just walk in unannounced and without warning.

The knock was short and sweet, something easy to remember. Eddie was the one who used it most, knocking on your window late at night to steal you away for a night drive or a smoke sesh. 

There is no response from Eddie, so you try the knock again, hoping he just didn’t hear you the thifrst time. Nothing, no response.

“Ed? You okay in there? Wayne said you haven’t left there all day.” You try and keep your voice neutral, not showing the hurt from deep inside that this might be your fault, “Look if this is about out fight last night I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wasn’t in the right head space and I really shouldn’t’ve talked to you that way.” Still nothing, not even the shifting of sheets could be heard.

“I brought some movies and cookies. Oh and that milkshake you love so much from Jay’s.” You start to get worried now, Eddie has never been this quiet in his life, “Eddie please talk to me. I really didn’t mean to say those things about you and I take back every word. If you really, truly love Chrissy then I will support you. I just don’t want you to get hurt is all, I love you and hate seeing you like this.”

At the mention of Chrissy, Eddie’s heart constricted thinking about what happened last night. And for the first time all day, he speaks.

“It’s not your fault,” The words are soft, the sound in his voice coming out strained.

“Are you sure? I know I was harsh and I take full responsibility for your emotions and my actions. Can I come in? I kinda feel like I need to say this to your face.” You pause a moment, waiting for something, anything. Then you hear the small *click* of his door being unlocked. You open it and gasp at the sight in front of you.

Eddie is laying on his bed, blankets wrapped tightly around him as tissues surround and litter the the places around him. He was crying.

“Shit.” You say under your breath. There is soft music playing in the back ground, you recognize the song to be K. by Cigarettes After Sex. You know the song is on his sad playlist, one he rarely listened to that you knew of. So for him to be listening to it right now is startling.

“Eds?” You walk into the rom fully now, setting the cookies and movies down on the floor by the door. You take a few steps towards his bed, his back is turned to you.

“Eddie, what’s wrong?” You’re now at the edge of his bed, wanting more than anything for him to turn around and look at you. He just lays there, his breathing moving his chest up and down slowly.

“I fucked up.”

“Huh?” You weren’t even sure he said anything that’s how quietly he said it.

“I fucked up, badly.” He turns around now, showing you the aftermath of his endless crying all night. His eyes are puffy and red, tear lines stain his face as a little bit of snot if still lingering on his nose.

You’ve never, ever seen Eddie cry out of sadness before, happiness, excitement, pleasure, sure but not sadness and it worried you to your core to know who or what did this to him. You take a seat on his bed, placing a hand on his thigh, the layers of blankets stopping any sort of heat of his to tough yours.

“What happened? Why do you think you fucked up?”

“Chrissy came by last night…” That’s when your ears perked up, so this was her fault huh? “She wanted drugs but I wasn’t sure she should do them alone since I figured she’s never done them before. Being miss popular “good girl” and all.”

Eddie sits up now, clearing his throat as you just sit there, leting him talk. “I offered to sit with her and teacher her how to smoke properly as to not hurt herself, you know?” You only nod, “Well we were sitting there a few minutes just passing it back and forth, talking occasionally until she asked me a question.”

“Which was?”

“Why do you act the way you do? It seemed harmless at the time, just something that one would ask the town freak,” Your heart pangs at the name he calls himself, “I retorted with a question of my own, following in her line of questioning. Everything was good, then she looked at me. Like really looked at me and I couldn’t hold back anymore, after what you said and the way she just seemed so damn pretty even after coming here with tears staining her face. I kissed her.”

Your eyes went wide. He kissed her. Eddie kissed Chrissy. Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham kissed. The “town freak” and the “cheery good girl” of Hawkins kissed. No matter what way you put it nothing changed. The boy you love, are in love with kissed someone else, someone who had a boyfriend who despised Eddie.

You’re silent, not even breathing as Eddie stares at you, “We only kissed for a few seconds but it was great, her lips were soft and sweet. I wanted to stay like that forever, I could’ve if she didn’t pull away. She told me it was wrong and she couldn’t do it, Jason being the one she loved, even though I know for a fact that he’s fucking other girls around the school.”

The words and thoughts of Eddie kissing Chrissy still heaven’t left your brain, you needed to get them out. “So that’s why you’ve been in here all day. Cause Chrissy rejected you? Not our fight?” You needed a clear answer.

“Yeah. I mean part of it was because we fought, but only a small part, most being because of the kiss.” His eyes are on his lap, where he messes with the chunky rings adorning them. You place your hand over his, stopping th nervous tick.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. You’ll find someone else who doesn’t have a dickwad for a boyfriend and who loves you just as much as you do them and you’ll be happy. I promise,” Clearly you were talking about yourself but he didn’t need to know that. He gives you a smile and pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tightly.

“Thanks sweetheart. You always know what to say to cheer me up.”

“I’ll always be there for you Ed, you know that.” The two of you break apart, you missing the warmth of his body against yours all too much.

“Did I hear something about horror movies and milkshakes?” You laugh at his change in conversation.

“Yes you did. I went to Jay’s earlier to get your favorite, which I still don’t get ow you can drink a birthday cake milkshake but I still bought it.” You stand from his bed, extending your hand out to im, “Let’s get you out of here, watch some movies and eat a shit ton of unhealthy foods.”

Eddie takes your hand without even taking a second thought, letting you lull him to his couch in the other room. The two of you sit there for the rest of the night, watching movies, eating cookies and drinking milkshakes. Everything was back to normal, almost.

Your heart still beat for Eddie but you knew now that you couldn’t do anything to pursue it, knowing it would only confuse and hurt him more. So for now you would stay an arm's length away, letting him pull you in whatever direction he wanted, a smile plastered to your face the entire way.

Eddie Taglist: @ali-r3n @dixontardis @witchwolflea @micheledawn1975 @daydreaming-mood @idfwfeelings @adaydreamaway08 @preciousbumplingbee @rustboxstarr @plk-18 @teary-eyed-egg @needylilgal022 @exploding-bonbon @gagasbee @eddiemunsonsguitarpicc @aol19 @thatwitchyoucouldntburn-blog

You Belong With Me Taglist: @emma77645 @ch4rlie-blogs @lucyteennope @sidthedollface2 @f-me-reid @elvendria @amira0303 @comic-harley @futuristicbirdtraveler @eddiemunson95 @gemnetjournal @sakaur-i @bakugouswh0r3 @sunshineandwitchery @theonceandfuturewinchester @bibieddiesgf @harmfulb1tch @marsflys @amillionfandoms-onlyoneme @daydreaming-mood @rach5ive @tlclick73 @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @plk-18 @dreamerjj @ceda1063 @eddiemunsonsguitarpic @suzy2872628 @idfwfeelings @fanfangying1304 @buckybarnescouldchokeme @4bigail @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @siouxiesiouxtryhard @urinternetmom @fuckmylifedudee @aol19

[ijustwanttoreadfanfiction]

Friendly Sex - Chapter 8 - The Visit

First of all, I want to apologise for the delay in posting. This chapter kicked my ass, I wanted to cover a lot of ground and this must be the 8th version but I'm still not 100% happy with it, had to happen at some point.

Secondly this covers topics that will likely be uncomfortable for some people, involving a manipulative step-parent and abandonment issues. If anyone needs to talk about this subject, my ask box is open.

Chapters warnings: MDI (18+ only), mentions of smut, explicit language, adult themes, drug use, abusive step-father, emotional manipulation.

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

Tuesday 20th May 1986

You’re holed up in the back of Eddie’s van, straddling his lap, furiously making out whilst Touch Too Much - AC/DC plays. It was a habit you had gotten into over the past few weeks, one of many habits actually. Eddie along with the rest of Corroded Coffin played a regular gig every Tuesday evening at The Hideout, you had found it was as good a place as any to hook up, particularly when the regular audience was made up of ten drunks and the bar staff. Eddie had threatened Gareth and Jeff into sworn silence about your sudden presence under pain of death, exile etc etc.

“I should be getting home soon.” You whisper against his lips, Eddie answers by holding your hips tighter, grinding you down harder.

“Five more minutes sweetheart.” He murmurs breathlessly, sucking at the sensitive spot on your neck, since that night at the trailer it's become something of a catchphrase for him; always wanting five more minutes between your thighs, five more minutes of fooling about in the Drama club costume closet, five more minutes of hammering into you.

“You’ve already had ten.” You sigh without any trace of reproach, grabbing his face to bring him back to your lips, feeling him grin.

“I’m just making the most of my time.” He says, kneading the flesh of your ass. “Seeing as you’re abandoning me this weekend.”

“I’m not abandoning you, I'm going to visit my mom, you know, the Queen of Abandonment.” You mumble, feeling your mood plummet as it had been prone to doing the last couple of days. Eddie had made a valiant effort in listening to and trying to soothe the various worries you had about your upcoming trip to Chicago, how it couldn’t be for anything good, having to spend time with Philip, watching the twins enjoying the life you once had before it was all messed up.  

“Hey,” Eddie cups your cheek. “It’s just for four days, you’ll be home again before you know it.”

You nod, fiddling with the black stone ring on his right hand, allowing yourself to be coddled as he presses a kiss to your forehead. 

“C’mon princess, let’s get you home.” He hums.

-------------------------------------------------------------------Wednesday 21st May 1986

Wednesday nights were Hellfire Club nights, with Eddie being decidedly occupied, you had invited Robin over to hang out and compare English notes before your final in a few weeks. Both of you laying on your bed, feet at opposite ends, heads meeting in the middle over a pile of paperwork. You heave a heavy sigh, correcting a sentence, trying to ignore the slight twinge in your back. Despite promising to get you home, you and Eddie had gotten carried away last night, which led to you bouncing on his dick in the driver’s seat of the van, the steering wheel as it turns out was not the most comfortable thing to lean against.

“So, you seeing Eddie later?” Robin asks nonchalantly, highlighting something in her book.

“No, tomorrow.” You reply, distracted by a tricky paragraph. 

At first it’s like white noise, a dull fuzzy sound filling your ears, but then her words and your admission sink in, turning so quickly to face her you crick your neck; she’s grinning wide enough that you think her cheeks might split.

“What?” You squeak, feeling all the colour drain from your face. “We’re not - how?” You feel sick.

“Got three words for you babe, closed circuit television.” She says like a cat that’s got the cream. “I saw you both on the security monitor when he came into the store a couple of weeks ago.”

Your heart was in your mouth, or your ass, one of the two. How could you have been so stupid? Keith had specifically had camera’s put in after the adult section was opened, which happens to be right next to the Sci-Fi shelves. 

“YOU’VE KNOWN FOR A COUPLE OF WEEKS?!” You shout incredulously before remembering your dad is downstairs, dropping your volume to a frantic hiss. “Oh my god Robin, why haven’t you said anything?!” You ask freaking out, hiding your head in your hands.

“I was waiting for the right time.” She reasons calmly like you’re discussing the weather, not your deepest darkest secret. “So what’s happening?”

“Nothing is happening, we kissed, once, that was it.” You say in complete denial.

“Bullshit, I saw you getting into his van the Saturday before last and on Monday you turned up to my practice smelling of weed with twigs in your hair and huge hickey.” She looks extremely pleased with herself, whilst you’re still trying to stop yourself from spiralling into a full blown panic attack. “So, are you together?” She asks.

“No.” You say shortly, huffing in annoyance when she gives you a look that screams ‘liar’. “I’m telling the truth Rob, we’re not together.”

“Soo, what then?” She presses, taking your hand in hers. “You can tell me, I won’t judge.”

You bite your lip, in the month you and Eddie had been hooking up it had often occurred to you that your agreement may become public knowledge, you’d had enough close shaves with the Principal Higgins/Fred Benson incident, and the first time Gareth walked in on you both the men’s room of The Hideout. But now it came to actually talking about it, you were terrified.

“It was the night of the party.” You mutter quietly. “I was upset about Steve, Eddie was out in the garden and we got talking, turns out he’s got it bad for Chrissy Cunningham.” 

Robin does a very poor job at hiding her amusement, but presses her lips into a tight line, gesturing for you to continue. 

“It’s your fault actually.” You jibe at her. “I told him that you thought I just needed to get laid in order to get over Steve, one thing led to another and we…” You trail off giving her a pointed look.

“You had sex in the garden?” She gasps.

“More like the street.” You wince at the confession, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“God damn.” She breathes. “Again not judging.” She adds quickly, holding her hands up in defence. 

“After that we sort of made a pact.” You say.

“What kind of pact?” Robin asks, she’s near shaking with curiosity, but you can tell she’s trying to keep a handle on it for your sake. 

“The kind of pact where we’ve been having lots of ‘casual’ sex.” You don’t know why you do air quotation marks around the word casual.

“And there I was thinking you were just using sex to pay for drugs.” She whispers, effectively stunned, you shove her insulted and you both burst into a fit of giggles. “So the mystery guy has been Eddie Munson the whole time?”

“Uh, huh.” You say, still giggling, some weird hysterical euphoria gripping you now you’ve told someone. You collapse back on the bed, Robin joining you so you’re staring up at the ceiling, holding hands like you did when you were little.

“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” You sigh, giving her hand a squeeze. “I didn’t want you to think less of me.”

“Babe, I was in love with Tammy Thompson, a literal muppet. I could never think less of you.” She says, pressing your foreheads together with a soft smile. “So - is he good?”

You nod, exhaling heavily and she whistles.

"It's always the freaks." She laughs, sounding thoroughly impressed. 

You think about how much lighter you feel with Robin now in the picture, but the stress of keeping it a secret from the rest of Hawkins still lies heavy on your mind.

"Rob -" You say seriously. "-Steve can't find out. He'd kill Eddie." Robin bobs her head in solemn agreement, whilst making a movement across her mouth, an imaginary zip.

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

Thursday 22nd May 1986

You’re busy packing your gym bag ready for your flight tomorrow, when your bedroom landline rings, you grab the whole phone shoving the receiver between your shoulder and neck.

“Hello?”

“Hey princess.” Eddie’s voice crackles through the speaker, and you try to ignore the immediate smile that creeps across your face.

“Hi.” You reply, grabbing a few pairs of clean socks with your free hand. 

“Good day?” He asks, with a slight yawn.

“Eddie you literally saw me -” You check your watch, laughing “- four hours ago.”

“A lot can happen in four hours sweetheart -” He reasons and you can almost hear his devious grin. “- a person could get up to anything.”

“Oh yeah like what?” You goad, shoving your Hawkins High sweater into the bag. 

“Well, I for one have played guitar, made some Kraft Mac & Cheese and jerked off.” He says, sounding incredibly pleased with himself.

“Wow, that is impressive.” You deadpan.

“I know, I did have some difficulty with the jerking off though, nothing feels as good as your tight pussy anymore.” He teases, and even though you’re alone in the house you still get flustered, almost dropping the phone. 

“Ed’s you gotta stop.” You say sternly but the effect is lost when you start laughing again.

“What time is your flight again?” He asks, and you can tell from the change in his tone that he's trying to behave himself.

“3pm.” You sigh, chucking a pair of converse on top of the bag.

“It’ll be ok sweetheart.” He reassures you, before clearing his throat, devilish Eddie back in play. “Now get on the bed and talk dirty to me.”

____________________________________________________

Friday 23rd May 1986

You hate flying, and have always preferred to take the train but your mom doesn’t understand why you would want to take a five hour journey over a one hour journey. You stand awkwardly outside the main terminal at O’Hare, glancing at your watch every five minutes until you hear two little excited screams heading your way. The twins.

Your half brother and sister are on you before you can blink.

“Oh my god, look at you guys you’ve gotten so big!” You exclaim, lifting Heidi up as Paul clings to your legs. “Where’s Mommy?”

Paul points back in the direction they sprang from, your mom bustling along in high heels, hair perfectly coiffed. 

“Darling!” She calls happily, reaching you slightly out of breath, placing a quick kiss to your cheek. “You’re so pale!” She cries standing back to observe you.

“I’m fine Mom, there was just some turbulence when we were landing.” You sigh, hitching Heidi more securely to your hip as you pick your bag with some difficulty, Paul wanting to hold your hand at the same time. “No Phil?” You ask as you walk back towards her car, the kids chattering away over each other so you only pick up every other word.

“He got called into work, but he should be home for dinner this evening.” 

__________________________________________________

After a manic afternoon of playing with Heidi and Paul, you’re taking a break before dinner, reading 'The Colour Magic' as loaned to you by Eddie. Perched on the plastic wrapped sofa in the fussy living room you feel distinctly out of place, everything in your Mom’s house is pristine, coasters on every surface, fresh flowers adorning each room, shoes off at the door so as not to ruin the shag carpet, even the magazines in the rack were alphabetized. You imagined taking her round to Eddie’s, she’d probably faint.

You hear the kids suddenly shouting in excitement, obviously Philip is home, he rounds the door and you instinctively tense up, both of you looking at each other with open dislike.

"Hello Y/n, how was your trip?" He greets you stiffly, like there's a broom up his ass.

"Fine thank you, how was work?" You ask so overly polite you sound near robotic.

"Busy. Heidi tells me you gave her and Paul some candy?" It's so prompt and accusatory you're amazed he bothered even saying hello; a new record in his self-restraint at criticizing you. You mark your place carefully in the book before trusting yourself to respond.

"Just some Red Vines I had in my bag." You reply as measured as possible. 

"The children don't usually have candy, particularly not this close to dinnertime." He chastises, and you can tell he wants you to apologize, you can see it in his hard stare, the way his jaw ticks.

"My mom said it was fine." You say, rising to move past him.

"She was humouring you, next time respect our rules." He says bluntly, grabbing your bicep none too gently. "Every time you're here you cause trouble, my children do not need your bad influence."

You yank your arm out of his grasp, about to respond when a small voice interrupts.

"Mommy says dinner is ready " Paul mumbles, little face hovering by the doorway, his expression worried. You scoop him up, leaving the room and Phil at speed.

"C'mon Paulie, let's eat."

________________________________________________

You were rattled, Phil's grip still feeling like it's curled tightly around your arm, as your mom passes the salad bowl to you.

"Looks great Mom." You say looking at the food on your plate.

"Moussaka darling, Phil and I had it in Greece last year." She smiles blissfully at the memory. "I like to make it for special occasions, and what's more special than having you to stay." She reaches over to give your hand a quick squeeze.

"So Y/n, how are your studies?" Philip asks you, pouring himself a big glass of red wine, like he hadn’t physically restrained you ten minutes ago.

"I have two finals left and that's it." You say taking a sip of milk, thinking you'd much rather have the wine.

"And your college applications?" 

"I’m uh - taking a year or two out, save up some money, maybe travel for a bit…?” You hesitate, feeling diminished in his presence.

“That’s quite an ambitious plan, particularly on your salary I would imagine.” He says smarmily, and you feel your temper rise. “Or were you planning on asking your mother and I to fund you?”

“I don’t need your help, I save everything I make.” You spit out between clenched teeth.

“We know darling, Philip is just teasing you.” Your mum reassures but you can see the high flush of colour on her cheeks, a sign that she’s stressed.

“I actually thought I could come up a bit more often once I graduate, maybe once a month, give  you two a break from the kids, take them out to the cinema and things.” You say, speaking directly to your mom. Smiling as Heidi and Paul both gasp and bounce up and down excitedly in their seats at the prospect.

“Oh that’s very nice of you darling but -”

“- we won’t be here.” Philip’s voice cuts across your Mom’s like a knife.

“What do you mean?” You ask, your mom suddenly finding it difficult to meet your eyes.

“We’re moving sweetie.” She says quietly.

“To Sydney.” Philip chimes in, a broad smirk on his face.

“As in - Australia?” Your voice shakes as you look between them. “But, that’s so far away...” Your stomach drops in a sick swooping motion.

“It’s a big change, but an exciting one. Phil has a new job, and they’re paying almost double what he's on now.” Your mom says, trying to inject some excitement back into the room, but she falters under your tearful gaze.

“What about me?” You ask in a small voice.

“You’ll still be able to come out darling.” She soothes.

“Not to Australia, Mom! There's no way Dad can afford it.” You shout, feeling your chest rise and fall rapidly.

“We’ll pay you for you sweetie -.” 

“- no we won’t Evelyn, we agreed, she either pays her own way or she doesn’t come.” Philip snaps, the following silence suffocating around the small dining table.

“Did -did you agree to that?” You ask, your heart breaking into a million pieces, noticing Heidi was silently crying opposite you.

“Well not in so many words, we just thought, Philip suggested that maybe you could contribute something -'' She trails off, looking at Philip for support who simply sips his wine, looking impassive.

“Mom, how am I going to see you? The tickets will be close to a thousand dollars!” You cry, feeling like you’re ten all over again, begging her not to go.

“Well I guess you should start saving then.” Philip mocks and you feel yourself break, eight years of hatred pouring out. 

“You fucking asshole.” You snap, hands shaking as you kick your seat out from under you . “What? You weren’t happy enough that you took her from me the first time so now you’re going to take her to the other side of the world?!”

“You watch your mouth you little bitch.” He shouts back, slamming his fist into the table, Heidi and Paul both openly crying as your mom tries to soothe them.

“M-mom?!” You sob desperately needing her to back you up, but she doesn’t even look at you.

You rush away from them to the spare room locking the door, feeling like you’re going to pass out, choking on your tears. You grab the phone and dial.

____________________________________________________

Eddie was having an incredibly delightful evening, Wayne was working, he had left over lasagne, a couple of beers, a bong ready to go, the only thing missing was you.

He could have sworn while he was jerking off earlier that he could smell your perfume on his pillow and it had sent him wild, he wanted nothing more than to rail you into the mattress but you weren’t here, he wouldn’t see you until Tuesday at the earliest and it was torture.

He was just about to start watching The Shining when the phone rang, probably Reefer Rick wanting to offload some shit.

“Yeah?”

There was silence at first, enough that he was ready to hang up when he heard a tiny sniffle

“Eddie?” The panic that washed over him was instantaneous, hearing you call his name in a cracked voice.

“Sweetheart? What’s wrong?” He asks frantically, already tugging on a Reebok before remembering you were in Chicago.

“S-she’s - leaving me.” You cry, it sounds like you’re breaking your damn heart.

“Who?”

“My Mom.” You sob, Eddie can hear how hard you’re breathing, he’s worried you’re going to have a panic attack.

“Sweetheart, I need you to calm down for me, ok?” He paces on the threadbare carpet feeling completely useless as you just cry harder, little whimpering sounds escaping you.  “Can you take a deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth, can you do that for me princess?”

He hears your breath stutter slightly, but then you inhale shakily.

“That’s it, in through your nose, and out through your mouth.” He finds himself doing it with you, the hand that’s not holding the phone rising up and down, it’s about another minute before Eddie feels that you’re stable enough to talk again.

“What’s happened baby?” He asks gently.

“They’re moving to Australia.” You say thickly. “Mom, the kids and Philip.” You spit the name out like it’s poison.

“Shit.” Eddie says heavily, and he’s irritated with himself that he can’t think of anything better to say. “I’m so sorry sweetheart.”

“She doesn’t love me.” You sound so sad, hating that he can’t wrap you up in his arms.

“Hey, that’s not true.” He insists.

“Then why does she find it so easy to keep leaving me?” You ask, voice cracking into tears once more.

“Because people do stupid hurtful shit princess, even to the ones we love.” Great he was sounding like a fucking hallmark card. 

“I just wanna go home.” You whimper. “Everything is so fucked up. I wish I'd never come here, I just wanna be home with you.” You say it so quietly that at first he thinks he���s misheard, but the way his heart stopped said differently. “I-I miss you Eds”

You can’t miss him, surely? What was there to miss? You guys had a good time, sure, but he didn’t give you anything that you couldn’t get elsewhere. You just wanted comfort, you were far from home, going through hell. You probably didn’t want to put your dad through it so you rang him, but you could have called Robin? Maybe even Harrington? He ignored the spike of jealousy at the thought of Steve comforting you instead of him.

“Eddie, are you still there?” You sniffle. Shit, way to fucking go Munson, just give her the silent treatment whilst she’s pouring her heart out.

“Y-yeah, I'm here sweetheart… I miss you too.” He breathes, shaking the nervous energy out of his hands, he wants to expand, tell you how much he misses you when he hears a loud banging in the background and a muffled voice, possibly a man’s.

“Fuck off Philip I'm on the phone -” The banging continues, Eddie hears you grunt followed by a dull thud, he assumes you’ve thrown something against the door, followed by more muffled yells. “-yeah well you can bill me and upgrade your seats to first class you prick!” You shout back.

“Cunt.” You mumble, and Eddie can’t help but laugh, you let out a wry huff.

“Ed’s I'm gonna have to go.” You say, sounding miserable once more.

“Will you be ok?” He’s worried about how volatile Philip the Cunt was, ready to drive through the night to get you if wanted to.

“Yeah, I'm gonna run Phil’s phone bill up some more, call my Dad. Maybe get a flight back tonight.” You heave a sigh of exhaustion. 

“I’ll see you soon sweetheart.” He promises.

“Counting on it Munson.”

Taglist: @avalon-wolf @mystars123 @lolalanaie @eddiemunsonsgf2@eddieslildarling@bakugouswh0r3@sidthedollface2@81rain@blueberrylemontea-fanfic@winchester-angel@bimbobaggins69@tuskjohnny@fckyeahlames@thecomfortgoth@alanamarie@miarosso@ghosttownwherenoonegoes@somespicystuff@eddiethesexy @unfocused81 @1paire2vans @take-everything-you-can

[roadkillremi]

Eddie Munson x Ghostface!Fem Reader

*I CANNOT FIND THE ARTIST FOR THIS PICTURE IF YOU KNOW WHO IT IS LET ME KNOW SO I CAN CREDIT THEM PLEASE!!*

MasterList

Warnings : MINOR DNI, Mentions Killing, Language, Smoking, Smut, P in V, Knife kink, threats,mentions selling weed, Mentions Violence (if I missed any please let me know)

I do NOT support killing!

1985

Hawkins, Indiana

Eddie lazily sopped his beer while watching the news. He was waiting on a call from his girlfriend, she said around 6 pm. It's 9:37 pm now and no one had called.

"Nearly the whole Hawkins Basketball team was murdered the other night-" The news report said impressed almost. Eddie bounced his leg in worry of his girl. She didn't fit the criteria of the current murders but he couldn't risk it. Ringing echoed through the house interrupting his thoughts. He quickly got up answering the phone, "Y/N?!".

A low chuckle came through, "No, but who might this be?". Eddie froze, it was the voice everyone talked about. The taunting calls, "listen asshat I don't have the patience-"

"You listen, you fucking bitch! I'll kill your pretty little girlfriend if you don't shut the fuck up and listen!" Eddie's silence caused the killer to laugh.

"Now, that's play a game..Edward." Eddie looked around the trailer glancing down the hall.

"Fine"

"That's a good boy. The games called 'Am I in your trailer or not' " the voice laughed.

"Listen, I don't know what you want, man. But leave me and Y/N out of this and take your games somewhere else."

"Is that your final answer? Cause if you're wrong I'll cut her throat!"

"Don't you dare fucking touch her!!" Eddie screamed into the phone. They just chuckled, "wanna hear the poor thing?". It went silent before sniffling cries were in the phone.

"Sweetie? Listen imma get you outta this. Don't worry"

"Eddie.. I'm scared.." she whined.

"I know I know. I am too, but I love you okay?" He tried to talk sweetly.

"That's enough sweet talk, pretty boy." The voice was back. Eddie tightened his fist, "Now am I in the Trailer?" The voice repeated.

"No. I think I'd notice if you were holding my girlfriend hostage in my trailer."

The voice laughed louder, "Wrong answer, Munson!". They hung up, Eddie ran into the kitchen looking for knives. All of them were gone, "looking for these?".

The killer was in Eddie Munson's living room, holding a bunch of knives with their head tilted. Eddie eyed the killer, "hiding behind a cheap Halloween mask is for cowards". They just laughed, Eddie slowly stepped forward. They pulled out a pistol aimed at him.

"no no no. I need you to listen, Mr.Munson."

Eddie could hear their smile in their voice. He stood still waiting, they walked towards him with the gun aimed. They walked on top of the coffee table.

They slowly took off the mask with their free hand. "Hey, Pretty Boy.", Eddie went wide-eyed in shock.

"Y-Y/N?" He asked softly. You nodded tossing the gun onto the couch. You stepped off the coffee table putting the knives down. All except the biggest one, "Baby don't be afraid. I'm not gonna hurt you."

"You.. killed people.." he stepped back from you.

"You hated them. They treated you like shit! Treated.. us like shit.. Ever since that party when you had to sell weed, you never forgave yourself. For Jason's mistakes, I was pissed! He.. he hurt me, Eds.."

"I know, baby. But you'll get arrested.."

"no I'm not.. I framed someone else.. some jealous cheerleader that dated them all." It was silent. Your grip on the knife was tight, Eddie just looked at you.

"I had to. For you.. you said you wanted him dead. And I needed you to be innocent!" You grabbed his face softly. He looked into your eyes, "Are you mad?".

He shook his head no, "I needed to do it.." you continued. Eddie interrupted you with a kiss, pressuring his lips to yours. Eddie gave a small smile, "I was gonna kill him sooner or later.". You smiled at him kissing his cheek. You took the costume off leaving you in black jeans and a Joan Jett Tee. Eddie grabbed your hips pulling you closer.

"Once he.. touched you-" he got all choked up on words. You cupped his cheek with your free hand. He leaned into it, "I don't want him to hurt again.". His demeanor turned dark, you nodded "he won't."

"You shouldn't have scared me like that" Eddie raised his eyebrow. You smiled, " I thought it was hot, Eds.". You playfully put the knife on his jaw. He looked at you, eyes filled with lust. Eddie took your hand leading you to his room. He sat down on his unmade bed pulling your hips close. You sat on his lap wrapping your arms around him. The knife lazily on his back.

"tell me how it went with Jason."

You smiled, "it was amazing, Eddie." He grabbed your hips and started kissing your neck as you explained.

"he was so weak. He cried like a little girl begging for help". Eddie groaned softly biting into your neck. You tilted his chin up to look at you, "I cut his dick off.". He smiled softly kissing you before going back to devouring your neck. You whimpered at the feeling, "I tied him up, beated him up until his teeth fell out. I tortured him and I loved it.". You place your right hand in his untamed hair. He looked at you smiling, playfully pushing you off his lap onto the bed.

"Eddie what are you doing?" You giggled a bit seeing the glint of mischievousness in his eye. He took off his shirt revealing his tattooed torso.

"Mark me" he smiled devilishly at you. You tilted your head a bit confused. He leaned in close, you could smell the cigarette smoke and musk of him. His hair gently tickling your face.

"I want you to mark me Ms.Ghostface" he glanced down at the knife. You looked at him, "Safe word?-".

"Ozzy", you rolled your eyes at the reference. You gripped the knife scooting closer to the edge of the bed. He stood still watching you closely. You unbuttoned his jeans seeing him all heated. You smirked pulling them past his thighs. You gently pushed his boxers down revealing the left of his hip. Dark curls of a happy trail and a slight v line distracting you. Eddie chuckled petting your head softly. You gently pressed the knife into his hip marking him with your initial. He bit his lip watching you. The blood slowly creeping out from the fresh cut lines. Gently licking it while looking up at him.

"Fuck.." he groaned watching you. He stood you up gently taking the knife.

"May I?" He cupped your cheek as he asked. You nodded, he got on his knees taking your jeans off. He slid his hand over your heat. You gasped, "Awh, all worked up baby?" He teased. He slid your underwear off throwing them on his nightstand.

"For later." He winked, you playfully pushed him.

"Pervert!"

"Whoa! You marked me first" he smiled. You rolled your eyes, "Nuh-uh, I don't fuck bad little girls.". Eddie stood back up.

"I'm not a little girl, Eds!"

"I'm sorry, I don't fuck bitchy whores" he smirked standing up grabbing his jeans. You grabbed his arm, "No no no! Wait, I'll be nice!". He smiled kissing you deeply, "Good girl". You whimpered at the nickname, he went back on his knees. He rubbed your right hip with his thumb. He placed the cold metal on there carving an E into you. You hissed softly, he shot his head up.

"Is this okay? I can get the first aid kit."

"Yes it's okay, Baby!" You smiled at his concern. He nodded looking back at your hip. He licked the blood copying you.

"Mm, always so sweet for me." He looked up at you gripping your hips. He stood back up tossing the knife somewhere in his room.

"take your shirt off." He demanded. You nodded, he grabbed your chin.

"use your words."

"Yes, Sir."

He smiled at your words, you took your shirt off tossing it by your jeans.

"now your bra."

"Yes, Sir" you repeated. You reached around revealing your breasts to him. He licks his lips, "lay down and let me use you.".

You laid down placing your head on his many pillows. He smiled, "want me to use you like a sex toy?".

"Yes, please.."

"Want me to fuck all that angry out? Been so busy for me.. Doing all that work must been tiring." You nodded.

He climbed onto the bed hovering over you. He stroke himself in one hand, balancing himself in the other.

"Fuck you till your all fucked out, huh?" He kissed you before leaving a trail down your neck. His fingers gently traced over your folds. You let out a soft moan, "S-stop teasing". Eddie gave a stern look, "Are you trying to boss me around, sweetheart?". You bit your bottom lip, he moved his fingers away. You whined and reached for his hand. He grabbed your wrist pinning it to the your side.

"You may be all big and bad but in the bed I'm in charge." He whispered before kissing your neck. You nodded, Eddie sighed getting up.

"Yes, Sir! I'm sorry I'll use my words" you whined. He smiled crawling back on top of you. He kissed your lips before going back to your neck. He gently inserted his fingers in, the cold of his metal touching your core with every thrust. Eddie left bites and hickeys along our neck and chest. You whined bucking your hips up against his fingers.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll fuck you soon." He took his fingers out pulling out his member coating his cock with your juices. He lined himself up gently pushing himself in. He watched as your face contorted with pleasure. He let out a sloppy smile and started thrusting at a steady pace. You wrapped your legs around his hips.

He grasped your thighs pushing himself against your opening. You tried to speak between moans.

"F-faster... please"

Eddie smiled gripping your hips tighter speeding up his pace. He breathed heavily leaned forward giving you a kiss. You moaned into his mouth as a thank you.

"So tight for me, sweet heart." He mumbled in betwee n thrusts. He grabbed your legs putting them over his shoulders.

Your back arched at the feeling of him hitting your spongy walls over and over again. He grunted, "Baby, I'm close..".

"Me too.." you moaned out gripping the sheets tightly. Eddie groaned trying to keep himself together, "Come for me, sweetheart.". You let the coil in your stomach release. A wave of pleasure taking over.

"Atta girl" he smiled speeding up. You wiggled a bit due to the overstimulation. Eddie pulled out releasing himself on your stomach. He wiped his seed on his finger popping it in your mouth.

"You know what to do."

You sucked his finger tasting him, the salty sweet mixture. He smiled, "Good girl, I'm going to clean you up now.". He left leaving you naked on his bed. He came back with his hair in a loose bun and a wet rag. He wiped you stomach clean tossing the rag somewhere. He lit a cigarette before laying down beside you. He pulled the blanket over your body and kissed your head.

"Eddie, The mask and costume are in the living room." You looked up at him. He blew out the smoke from his cigarette.

"Go to bed, baby. I'll take care of it for you."

[yubellia]

My thoughts about that scene in ‚full moon‘

Well….. it’s been a while. I thought talking about helluva boss would be fun. Especially the new episode that shakes everyone. For those who know me already…. Yeah I like helluva boss and Hazbin Hotel too. I apologize for any grammar mistakes because English isn’t my first language.

I just wanna talk about this one scene that makes everyone cry right now.

First: I think everyone and their grandma can agree that this whole conversation they had could have gone better. Is Blitzø to blame? Yes but not entirely. Stolas didn’t shine either. I would love to protect our little birdie here too but….. if you think about after letting everything sink in…. You can‘t really. Do I want to protect blitzø here? Yes a little.

Don‘t get me wrong. Making fun of someone’s love confession and even throwing a fake ‚i love you‘ in someone’s face because you think it’s a game is already a punch in the gut’s. And no it was not ok to yell all this things at Stolas. But! This doesn’t change the fact that Blitzø has some valid points.

For starters. To him, Stolas did jump this whole thing on him. We know better. The other characters know better. But blitz can’t see it. He thinks this relationship works because of the deal. You can see how scared he gets when Stolas takes the book away. He even wants to return the crystal and says ‚he could do better‘.

I also saw someone point out how Stolas puts the crystal on blitzø’s left glove (I think? I would have to rewatch the scene don‘t pin me down.), like you put an engagement ring on the left hand. That’s a whole other story.

(Also stolas what the hell was that? Did Blitz really need to beg and start crying before you reveal that damn crystal? That’s what blitz meant when he said ‚playing with our feelings.‘ You had the power and you abused it in that moment. And there isn’t a way around that! You scared the crap out of him! Why not say ‚I need it back but don‘t worry. I have figured out something else?‘. Can we all agree that this was a really bad move right at the start?!)

Things did end the way they always do. Blitz handles the situation the only way he knows how and it blows up in his face.

So yeah. Blitzø messed it up and the one thing he didn’t want, being discarded and pushed away, happened.

But you already heard that I am not defending Stolas either. Starting with that damn crystal. He did explain what it would do pretty well. But he didn’t really give blitz a chance to react to it properly. I am sorry. But you can see how confused blitz is. To him, this deal worked fine.

Also the moment blitz realized that Stolas is serious and runs after him, Stolas already claims ‚he has his answer‘ he is not even listening to him properly anymore.

Not really listening to others and their feelings is one of his flaws. Unfortunately we see that with Octavia too to some extend. This will blow up on him later too if we believe the trailer. „You never loved mom or me! You loved HIM!“ (Stolas tries. And we are not talking about that now but I needed to point it out.)

The discussion was over for him. And yes I know, he didn’t have his…. Let’s call it ‚happy pills‘ anymore. Which is a horrible way to start something like this.

But what was this ‚that you only think it’s about s**.‘? Stolas….. buddy….. this entire damn show…. You matched blitz‘s….. energy…. Very well didn’t you?! You encouraged it on multiple occasions or at least played along! Who are you trying to fool here you hypocrite?!! Are you serious?!?

You can hold a lot against blitz. Don‘t get me wrong. But that was unfair! I am calling foul play here!

This whole conversation was doomed from the start. BOTH Stolas and Blitzo need to work on themselves first if this is supposed to work in the future and ‚Stolitz‘ really is supposed to be the endgame.

Sooo…. That’s it folks. I really needed to get this off my chest. I love both of these characters but they just didn’t shine in this scene. We all knew that was coming but it’s still painful.

See you again soon….. maybe… who knows.

[madthetruemad]

Eeek! Act one is doneeee!! Congratulations!🎉 🎉 🎉 🎉 🎉. Wahh, you did ittttttttt

I still can’t believe y/n likes Jing yuan after this, bruh 💀💀 and geppie too. I would literally tackle him head first the moment I saw him. I would turn him into Gepard powder, out of everyone I expected to betray y/n geppie was not one of them. This is gonna be personal.

I’d also slap Jing yuan, like mtfkr, you think that’s enough to appease me???

I think blade is the only person I feel bad for, yk, he loved y/n and he just had to watch so lonely on the side lines 😭😭😭. I’m sorry for slandering you bladieeeeee.

And Sunday only using 0.00001% of his brain power?

——

I didn’t really understand the last chapter 😭😭😭. Maybe cuz I gobbled it up to fast?? Can you explain in it monkey language for me plsssss.

——

And thank you for the song recs!! I’ll be sure to listen to them while I work/study/ travel.

——

You don’t also need to bust out the wallet for “Who made me a princess” you can read it at vyvy manga for free but it is illegal so if you want to support the artist and writer, buy the comics but I don’t want you to feel that the money went to waste in case you don’t like the story. So ye, maybe try out the first few chapters on vyvy manga?

——

Webtoon is also free and legal! Though there’s a fast pass system where you can buy webtoon currency and use them to read ahead of chapters.there’s also a free option but all the manhwas there update like once a week. 😭😭😭.

I think “who made me a princess” is a really good beginner manhwa work to start since everything is pretty sweet and the storyline is good. You can also read the novel version.

I would sort of leave “your throne” for later since it’s a little bit graphic. Not as in r*pe or anything but it’s super bloody. Though I think the good plot compensates for it.

Another easy to read is “Beware of the villainess”. It’s comedy and literally peak crack manhwa. If you’re interested, you can see the trailer for it on the tapas channel I think?

——

I hope you have a fun time reading and again, congrats on finishing🎉🎉🎉. Mwah, gud nighttt!

Y/n may not like yuan like that just yet which is why she didn't say yes to his proposal. (He has to prove himself first) though, there is always a chance she ends up with someone else (looks over at a certain general and guard who deserves some screen time)

Gepard deserves an redemption arc cause y/n won't let it slide either (even though technically geoard doesn't remember anything of what had happened)

Both Blade and Sunday deserve a break me thinks

-

Lol, when I need someone to dumb something down I say "can you write it in crayon" XD

Anyway, so basically at the beginning y/n died again, but Jing Yuan went so far back in time that je prevented Robin's death, but instead of Robin dying y/n died in her stead. (You know like that one trope where if you save one person the other will die or vice versa). Then, y/n woke up a brand new day with a new life ahead of her. So basically Jing yuan didn't become some evil emperor, sunday is alive with his sister, and everyone came to see y/n.

And jy wants to get back with y/n (the right way) but of course she won't make it easy for him (or may not even end up with him at all)

-

No problem!!

-

I honestly don't like reading on illegal sites 😭, tbh, I really like supporting the author and if I don't like the first volume I can always give it to my friends (they eat that stuff up!!!) But I'm sure I'll like it 😌

-

And sadly I'm the type who likes physical copies 😭 the only stuff I'll read online are fanfics 💀 idk why I am this way, but it's just how I am 😭😭

Tbh, I don't really mind the graphic stuff (unless it's like super bad) but I haven't read anything like that except for this one time *shivers* that book still sits on my shelf unfinished.

But anyway! I do plan on checking out the ones you recommended!

-

Thanks! Act Two will certainly be starting (hopefully) soon!!!

[thatseventiesbitch]

Eric and Donna’s love languages?

Thanks for the question, anon! This one really made me think. Curious if others have thoughts as well.

I think Eric's top love language is words of affirmation.

Reasoning:

Eric experiences a deficit of this in his life. In fact, pretty much all of the people he's surrounded by tell him that he's not good enough, all of the time - including his parents (Kitty, usually unintentionally). Donna choosing him makes Eric feel good about himself, but even he often doubts it. Hearing from her regularly that she loves him and why she loves him is important to his self esteem. A few examples:

In S2xE3 The Velvet Rope, Eric can't answer the bouncer when he asks him why Donna's with him - but Donna can. Later that night when she and Eric talk about it, she has an answer for him right away. She's with him because he's smart and funny and treats her well. She reminds him that she doesn't care what other people think about their relationship and doesn't take their opinions into consideration - and Eric's confidence is immediately boosted.

At the end of S6xE17 Happy Jack when Eric and Donna make up, Eric says he's sorry for what he did in her bathroom (*lol*) and that he wants to move past this, he loves her. Donna agrees and Eric is quick to point out that he said I love you, and doesn't she love him too? He needs that reassurance from her (even at this point in the series/their relationship)

'I love you' carries weight to Eric, they are not just meaningless words. We know this because of his reaction in S2xE7 I Love Cake. Towards the end of the episode he admits to Donna that he freaked out and said that he loved cake (*lol*) because he was scared to be vulnerable and admit that he loves her, because he's afraid of losing her one day. He also warned Casey Kelso in S4xE26 not to say 'I love you' to Donna if he didn't mean it, causing Casey to accuse him of being the love police 😂.

Eric also uses his words to affirm Donna - he tells her he loves her frequently and easily after their first initial speed bump (see: S2xE16 The First Time, S5xE1 Going to California, S6xE20 Squeezebox, S7xE25 'Til The Last Goodbye, etc) and will make off-hand comments about how he feels about her like, "Oh, you are so the girl for me," "You're as wicked as you are gorgeous," etc.

I think Donna's top love language is quality time.

Reasoning:

When she was having a tough time with her parents' arguing, her instinct was to escape and go be somewhere else/do something with Eric (see: The Velvet Rope [S2xE3], Romantic Weekend [S3xE16], etc). We also clearly see her react strongly - negatively - to not receiving her parents' undivided, focused attention (or really, any of their attention 😑), so we know that's significant to her.

She shifted around other priorities in her life in order to spend more time with Eric/be closer to him (i.e. not attending Marquette for college because it was further away from him and she didn't want that, purchasing the trailer in season 6 because she thought that would be the foundation for a good marriage, etc).

She and Eric are shown to like just being with each other, laying together, not even necessarily having to say anything. In S5xE1 Going to California she says, "I was so scared I'd never be like this with you again." It's her safe space - next to Eric.

When Eric's upset/going through something, she's always there with him, giving him one-on-one time and her uninterrupted focus. Whether he's just lost a grandparent, whether he's considering delaying college to stay home and help his family, or he's being vulnerable and telling her how he felt when he thought she'd slept with someone else - Donna always gives Eric her full attention and makes him feel listened to, too. Its how she shows love as well as how she likes to receive it.

[stormyoceans]

seriously unable to stop listening to last twilight (the ost) monica. william's voice? whilst mohkday unfurl in the background?? The last image I'll remember is when we were together The last image is when you gazed at me tender The image of you, i'll hold dear Still beautiful year after year You're in my heart always the power of art to invoke in us feelings we've never experienced before. truly transcendental. somehow, listening to the song makes you feel like you're locked in that mountaintop with them. over and over again, unfailingly. no one's outdoing this ost ever at gmmtv. -Skate

THE WAY THAT IN THE 4 DAYS IT TOOK ME TO ANSWER THIS (;;;;;;;) THE SONG ALREADY GOT TO 1 MILLION VIEWS!!!!!!!!!

THE POWER THAT THAT HAS THE IMPACT THAT THAT HAS THE INFLUENCE THAT THAT HAS THE PROFILE THAT THAT HAS THE INTERNATIONAL IMPLICATIONS THAT THAT HAS!!!!!!!! IT HAD US ALL IN A CHOKEHOLD SINCE THE TRAILER FIRST CAME OUT AND NOW THAT IT GOT RELEASED IN ALL ITS GLORY TWO MONTHS LATER IT'S ONLY MAKING US WORSE!!!!!!!!

needless to say i agree with you on everything, i've had the song on repeat since friday and the more i listen to it the more i fall in love with it. i just love music so much because it's such an universal language like. you don't necessarily need to understand the words to understand the emotions behind them, and when it comes to visual media this can be such a powerful tool because it enhances the impact that a scene can have on the audience. now every time we hear this song we're always gonna be back on that mountain with morkday experiencing day's last image over and over again!!!!!!!

but then of course you do look up the lyrics of the song to truly grasp the meaning behind it and just. the way it's written from day's pov. the way in the end it's day telling mork that it's alright. that if he could finally accept losing his vision it was also because of mork and the love that mork gave him. that it's that love and all the memories they made together that day will always remember......

TRULY OST OF ALL TIME. REDEFINED MUSIC AND ROMANCE AS WE'VE ALWAYS KNOWN IT. IT'S DONE WE'RE DONE THERE'S NO WORK LEFT TO DO HERE YOU'RE SO RIGHT NOTHING WILL EVER COMPARE

[componentcables]

Splatoon and its effects (on me)

Obligatory post about how this series permanently changed me as a person. TLDR: This series is good, play it if you can/want to. kinda miffed that i never got to even look at the grandfest thanks to grinding out Big Run a week prior (i never recovered).

Splatoon 1 drops in 2015, I'm around 12 or 11 at the time. I was only recently getting into videogames with upgrading from a Wii to a WiiU. I didn't really have much perspective on the other consoles other than whatever episode of AVGN I was watching. I didn't really see the point of games being 'realistic' why actively try to look like Real Life when other games who don't tend to age much better. And cost significantly less Enter Splatoon, a game that is unashamedly stylized. The music being in some made up language, the loud and proud colors fully on display with some unique character designs…everywhere. I all but begged my mother for this game, watching the trailer dozens of times and absorbing whatever information I could about the game from ZackscottGames, to listening to rips of the music until I finally had it in my hands.

The music specifically just…works. yeah I can't understand a word of it, but in a sheer musical standpoint..it's just good. It's weird and obtuse in a refreshing way.

I have some vivid memories of replaying the single player levels, the Amiibo challenges, getting my ass handed to me on a silver platter and exploring the Hub World dozens of times over. Attending and playing every single splatfest with my weekend off from school. Not to say it was perfect, Nintendo online was..and still is a joke. But it didn't have to be. It was just fun and basically the one shooter I could see myself playing since it was just so unashamed at being different and not trying to simplify things because of it.

I basically hard committed to every splatfest, being a young teenager with infinite time after homework, I hyper focused hard into the game and milked every second into the online gameplay, and it was fun. I wouldn't really want to do that a second time but I'd still say it was worth it.

Cut to Splat2n some time in 2017ish. I was around 15 or 16ish going through high-school. I never really 'left' splatoon. I'm still active around the subreddit but due to my WiiU dying out on me, I couldn't really play the game. At least to me. Splat 2 feels like more of Splat 1. They were clearly trying new things that could have still worked in the 1st game while experimenting with some unique concepts. Especially in regards to the music. Splat 2 has some much needed diversity with its bans groups that nobody really complained about. But that's neither here or there, the series still stands head and shoulders above basically any shooter at the time.

Including the looming shadow of Early Fortnite. I never really saw the interest in fortnite so I never touched it.. still remains that way to this day but for more palpable reasons. The game (splatoon) didn't feel like it was chomping at the bit to make you spend money, despite having frequent content updates it never FELT like a drip feed. Moreso that the device realized that these other ideas can work here too and added them in. It never felt like it was trying to be the endless moneymaker that literally every other shooter is.

To me, the splatfests here were the best in the series due to Shifty Stations. The fact that they brought in the unique elements from single player always tickled my fancy since they were such a different experience from the normal grounded levels. I never got the chance to participate in Order VS Chaos (something that eventually echos into Splat 3) but the ones I did participate in where definitely enjoyable.

Onto Splat 3, 2022 and I'm in between jobs at age 20. I couldn't really will myself to get Splatoon until a year later. In my head I couldn't ration myself playing it since 'I should be getting a job first' so I eventually picked it up at a gamestop during one of the first few Seasons. Again, toy get the gist. This series at least to me, is some of Nintendos best work. They've put a shit ton of effort into the art direction, music,animation, QOL, and it makes it into an overall smoother experience.

Kinda sucksyou have to pay for online..but three dollars is honestly such a low price (especially compared to Sony and Microsoft) that it's worth my time. I happened to dislike how fast the game had become. The other two games had a manageable pace that didn't rely too much on reaction time. Something about Splat 3, weather its Tacticooler, the movement options, the specials, it makes things feel a little too fast for me sometimes. I feel like an idiot saying I might be too old, but for me it's a coinflip weather or not I'd be able to win an encounter against a dualies or shooter aince..they're so fast.

Personal gripes aside, the game is still pretty solid for just pure gameplay as long as you're just trying to enjoy yourself and not taking it too seriously.

The splatfests are…interesting. I wasn't too much of a fan of tricolor battles especially since the stages weren't that different. But it didn't stop me from participating when I could.

Sadly, i Never really got the chance to experience the final fest. I'm the insane person who has work on Friday and Saturday, combined with life itself and my general video game playing mood being at an all time low (i put..way too much effort into the Big Run), I experienced the Cochella like event through screenshot and Twitter clips. Hindsight is a son of a bitch since it clearly looks cool as hell with all the idols on a literal stage with a crowd and actually USING the two other d-pad buttons. People are saying that you're still able to go back to the venue as long as you have an Idol amiibo which is…really nice, it looks like Nintendo really put in so much effort into the animation,modeling and music. Would really such if you could never see it again just because you had work or other plans.

Regardless, Splatoon over its..nearly 10 years of existing has been head and shoulders above most games when it comes to the sheer commitment and creativity. Throughout the 3 games I never felt like I WASNT playing a splatoon games they really stretched themselves out without compromising the visual and audio feel of the series.

[hargrove-mayfields]

Hargrove-Mayfield-Hopper-Scott Siblings AU (Part 2/2)

Just kidding about the last moodboard guys! Haha they were just being silly, they’re actually all fine!

And speaking of, here’s a preview of an upcoming domestic family fluff fic under the cut!

Vance told them all to be in the car by 7:20 am. They’re pushing it by six minutes already. The school gets pissed when they’re even a minute late though, like it’s his fault he’s raising four of them at 23 goddamn years old.

At least the youngest is nice to him. She’s already buckled in the back middle seat, waiting for Max and Jason Lee to take their respective places on her right and left. Her waist-length mousy brown hair is in two braids, done by Billy since he’s the only one that can ever get them to stay.

If only Billy could get ready as fast as he’d done those twin long braids.

“Pearlie girl, why are you the only shithead here that listens to me?” Vance had turned all the way in his seat to sign to Pearl, a little clumsy with sign language since he only just met her a few years ago.

That’s a long story. Something, something- his mom ran away with Jason Lee, had a baby in secret, hid from them and never called, not even when Vance was missing for ten months, then dumped said kids back on their equally as shitty dad once the twins turned 16.

That was the last straw for Vance. He’d fought for custody of the kids right then before Neil could fuck them up any more than he already had, and now here they are, in the shitty middle of the woods, five of them packed into one trailer because it’s the only place Vance’s wages at the arcade can afford them.

Pearls oblivious to all that though. She’s only nine, and yeah, she’s got a bit of a sharp attitude like Billy, but she’s not really in the loop about the hardships. They all agree it’s best to keep her out of it.

She is witty as hell though, and in response to Vance’s sarcastic question, declares in sign, “I can’t even hear to listen.”

“That’s why your my favorite.” Vance signs quickly, just because it makes his little sister giggle when he says that kind of shit. But that makes him seem like too much of a sweet big brother, and that’s just not him. He insists.

So he blares the horn since Pearl can’t hear it anyways to be disturbed by it, though his siblings still in the trialer, now nine minutes late, clearly need the reminder. He rolls the passenger side window down too, “Shitbirds 1, 2, and 3, get your sorry asses out here now!”

He’ll apologize to Mr. Munson later for all the noise.

Max shows her face first in response to his calling, rolling her eyes to make it known just how inconveniencing having to be on time is for her. Ever the ray of sunshine, she probably learned that from her brothers. Not Jason Lee though. He’s the actual, unironic embodiment of cheeriness, no matter what.

Though Max makes an example of just how not cheery she is with her sarcasm, “Geez, you can stop your tantrum now, you big grouch.”

After two years of this- of crying his eyes out in this very car because he thought he was doing a shitty job of being the adult, of getting in fights and sitting them all down at their three legged, wobbly ass dining table to apologize, of sleeping with a crook in his back because the hard floor is the only place for him with Max and Pearl sharing a room, and the twins taking the couch and the chair- Vance can handle Max’s morning bad moods.

“Yeah, well not until your asshole brothers make their grand appearance for the day.”

Conveniently just then, Pearl taps the back of Vance’s headrest to get his attention, signing to him with enthusiasm, “Here comes Jason!”

He looks sheepish, from the tiniest red tint to his face and the awkward shape of his shoulders. Despite being just as stubborn as the rest of them, he’s more calm and more concerned with order. So that look only means bad things, and bad things, right now, translate into getting another call from the school about the Hargrove-Scott and Mayfield kids never making it on time.

Vance doesn’t like to be a stern guardian, really he doesn’t give two shits what his siblings are up to, but the last damn thing he needs is them getting taken away from their family over a couple of missed alarms. He’s gotta get to the bottom of that look, as Jason buckles in, “Where’s your idiot brother?”

Jason meets his brothers eye, but looks ever guilty, forcing an exhausted sounding chuckle, “About that… He said he doesn’t want to go today.”