#i promise the theory is coming in the next day or two

[101suouexpressions]

Umemiya fostering Sakura to be his successor

This is an open secret by now, but in this post, I will dive into the process that Umemiya went through to finally decide on Sakura.

First notice: Pre Shishitouren Arc

In the beginning, Sakura was known as the kid who came to take over the old, disordered, and violent Fuurin, which had definitely given a lot of people the wrong impression of him. However, on his first day, he had proven to have good morals instead of being an arrogant power-seeker.

This had, of course, piqued Umemiya's interest and changed his perception of Sakura.

Shishitouren Arc

However, Umemiya's evaluation of Sakura only commenced when he let the boy participate in the Shishitouren fight. This is like an entrance exam to see if Sakura has what it takes to be a leader.

Clearly, the task wasn't simply "beating the Togame's ass", but it seems like Sakura has to check some certain, hidden boxes. Sakura officially passed the test when he successfully connected to Togame through the fist-fight based on just a few words from Umemiya.

It proved that not only did Sakura have a kind heart, but he could apply newly gained knowledge (this happened again at the bridge, where they had to defend the town from Noroshi, Sakura had learnt to take his environment into account in a fight) very quickly.

The Aftermath of Shishitouren Arc

It seemed that Umemiya had officially made the decision to foster Sakura to become the next leader after that. His attitude had changed.

Moreover, later into the day, instead of hinting vaguely, he explained the concept of a conversation through fists in great details this time.

Doesn't it look like he's teaching it to Sakura? Umemiya only did this because he had officially recognize Sakura as his successor, or at least, his direct mentee.

Throughout Wind Breaker

Umemiya entrusted Sakura with the class leader position, directed him to Kaji for experience, and let him face Endou. Not only did Sakura's credibility increase, but the last point is very interesting because no matter how strong and good at fighting the boy is, Umemiya must have been aware that Sakura is NOT going to win going against a beast like Endou.

Personally, I believe this is a very good parallel to the way Suou taught Nirei how to fight. Umemiya was letting Sakura experience, and from the newest chapters we can tell that Sakura was learning a lot from this challenge.

Why didn't Umemiya choose another person?

Million-dollar question! This was my missing piece, which had been preventing me from writing this post in the first place. Umemiya was in third year, he definitely needed to find a new leader for Boufuurin before he and the four generals graduated. If Sakura didn't arrive at Makochi, then who would be the next leader?

Well folks, with the newest chapter (chapter 146), I can finally give you an answer in the form of a theory.

Umemiya was going to train Sugishita to become the next leader.

I'm making a separate post for this theory, which is coming VERY SOON (I am writing it right after this post). In the mean time, can you guess why? :3

UPDATE: THEORY IS UP!

As a thank you for reading this far, have this Sakura playlist.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Jones confirms that, just like in Rice’s books, Armand is the one who turns Daniel into a vampire. “Will we see that moment of turning? No, but Armand finally made a vampire and clearly made him out of spite,” he says with a laugh. “It looks like it was really not a great moment [between him and Daniel], but that connects those two characters. They will have scenes going forward, obviously.”

This is from the latest Rollins interview. I feel like an idiot now, I was desperately hoping that we would see the turning next season - but while I think Rollins may not reveal everything I don’t think he would outright lie. So we won’t see the turning.

I walked into the finale open to an exclusively present-day DM that might(!) kick-off and I didn’t expect too much given what screeners had warned about. I never thought Daniel would be turned completely off-screen however… I know there’s rumours they might write DM into the past still, but I’m a fan of Daniel and Armand outside of the ship as well and knowing we won’t see Daniel’ turning, probably won’t see anything of his first time with becoming a vampire (because of the time skip) and seeing that Armand might(?) actually have turned someone out of spite makes me just sad.

I also feel a bit off-put by how Rollins is speaking about if, feels a bit like he’s trying to affirm to fans well see more of them together (maybe surprised that so many people are invested?) but also just gives off the vibe that the DM if it all wasn’t fully planned out in the moment of writing. Which sucks when you decide to have one turn the other! This frankly does not inspire confidence and make me feel like my favourite characters been reduced to plot devices (in good writing characters can be both character and plot tool but now this doesn’t feel like it).

F*ck I’m sorry, I realise this is not a fun post to read, I just feel really upset. Thank you for hearing me out!

Okay. So.

I let this simmer a bit (and I still have a lot of catching up to do with the interviews, since, well, vacation 😅, so thanks for the quotes).

BUT.

You know what I was chewing on? Armand and… spite.

When does Armand do something out of spite.

And… I came up only with one distinct event that I, personally, would call spite, namely when he goes and has that affair with that english guy - to spite Marius.

Marius. Not yet introduced as a character, but more than hinted at. The one Daniel has also a relationship with in the books.

And here we’re back to my theory that DM did happen in the past… and that Marius wiped Daniel‘s memories.

Eric let spill recently that there might be something between Raglan and Daniel and… well on one hand… but you know if Raglan, as I also theorized, is actually Marius… then that would make a lot of sense.

DM happened in the past. Marius intervened (like he likes to do). Standing order is to leave Daniel alone (maybe). But… Daniel gets sick. They redo the interview. The “surprise“ after dinner, that never comes to pass (Louis wanting to turn Daniel for Armand?!). Louis leaving Armand with Daniel, (utterly pissed at Armand and therefore retracting his promise to turn Daniel) forcing Armand’s hand… Armand… knowing that if Daniel leaves now he will die soon.

And Armand turns Daniel - out of spite.

But not to spite Louis, or Daniel. Nor are they enemies (that‘s BS and given how Assad has talked about Loumand and what it has been on the show I do call BS here).

No, he does it to spite Marius, who wants Daniel mortal (for whatever reason). He does it IN spite of Marius‘ standing order. THAT woukd make sense to me.

And it would also explain why Armand isn’t there after… Marius might have come by for a… chat.

I know this sounds wild.

But honestly - spite? Anger?!! No. That doesn’t make any sense to me. And, I‘m sorry Assad, but I‘m side-eying your statements there after the Loumand ones. *shrugs*

So.

It sucks that we maybe won’t get the turning.

But I BET - I bet they have a good reason for that. Because it would contradict what they’re trying to establish for now.

It will be a big twist for show-only fans after all when it will be made clear why Armand turned him truly.

So. These are my thoughts, after chewing on it for a bit. Knowing Rolin likes to troll a bit obviously plays into that as well. And Hannah‘s tweet.

We‘ll see how it will hold. :)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Shots II

Pernille Harder x Baby!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Pernille and your shots

Magda has to take paternity leave. Well, technically she could have taken shared parental leave but it was difficult to do when both she and Pernille were athletes so paternity leave was the next best thing.

In theory, she was only entitled to two weeks but the club were generous and eager to keep her with them for many years.

They gave her six.

Six whole weeks to spend with you and Pernille in Pernille's little apartment in Germany. Six whole weeks to get used to you in her life and her new role as mother.

Six weeks, however, didn't extend to your first shots or, rather, your first group of shots after your birth.

You'd been given a round of vaccines in the hospital the day you were born along with being measured and weighed and checked for any issues.

Your next round comes at eight weeks though and Pernille is all alone.

You sit on the floor in front of her in your carrier. You're blissfully asleep, blanket wrapped around you and a little hat to keep your tiny head nice and warm.

You look peaceful and happy, smacking your lips together in your sleep like you're being fed in your dreams.

Pernille hates to ruin it but her name is called and she lifts up your carrier to head to the doctor.

"Right," The man says," Eight weeks. Is that about right?"

"Yes," Pernille says," Eight weeks."

"Well then." He wheels his chair back. "Let's get her weighed and measured and then we'll discuss shots."

Pernille gently gets you out of your carrier, carefully stripping you down to your nappy so you can be weighted accurately.

The doctor nods along with what he sees, noting it down in your baby book.

"Good weight. Good length. How is her eating?"

"Good," Pernille confirms," She's been doing really well. Sleeping good too."

The doctor continues noting things down. "And I seem to remember you saying your partner was returning home. Has that been an okay transition for you both?"

Pernille nods. "It was a little weird during the first few days but now we've adapted. It's going well."

"Good, good. Now, vaccines?"

Pernille winces inwardly. "I was told she's due a few."

"We can do all three today."

Pernille's eyes bulge. "All three? But-"

"Two are injections. One is oral," The doctor explains," It's best we get it all done today."

Pernille finds herself nodding. She knew that this would happen but she wasn't quite sure she'd prepared for it. But, still, she nods and signs the page in your baby book giving her consent.

The first one is simple and easy, liquid drops being placed into your mouth for you to swallow.

You've woken up now, pulling a face at the taste and smacking your lips together in annoyance.

Pernille can deal with that.

What she can't deal with is the way you go from annoyed to heartbroken as the doctor jabs two needles into your legs in short succession.

You're sobs are heartbreaking and you don't stop even when you're in the car.

"It's okay," Pernille coos at you, taking your hand and gently waving it around," It's okay. you're okay. It's to make sure you don't get ill later on."

But you're a baby and you don't understand why Momma has let you get hurt by the mean man with the cold hands.

So you keep sobbing.

Fat tears roll down your chubby cheeks as pain radiates from your leg where you've been jabbed.

"Shh, shh," Pernille says, her own tears pricking in her eyes," Princesse, baby, it's okay. It's over now. Momma's here."

But you don't stop and Pernille decides to just pick you straight out of your car seat, propping you up on her chest.

Tears roll down Pernille's cheeks, matching yours until you're both crying together.

"It's okay," She keeps repeating to you," It's okay. Let's get home, alright?

You sniffle, still whining.

"I know. That doctor was a meanie, sticking you with medicine that's going to save your life one day."

You whimper as Pernille clips you into your car seat again.

"Just a little longer," She promises you," And we'll be home for cuddles and nap time."

[httpsserene]

kinktober '23 table of contents

welcome to serene's f1 kinktober special! i do not know how many posts i will be doing for this event, but, reblog and save this masterlist for any updates concerning my f1 kinktober.

posts will be tagged with: # httpss :// kinktober 23

view playlist? ↴

upload 1 : charles leclerc / max verstappen x reader | corruption kink

innocent and virgin !reader has never touched herself before. she knows how to, in theory, but whenever she tries, she chickens out. her tried and true way of receiving pleasure is failing her. she thinks that maybe it's time to allow her relationship with her two respectful and experienced boyfriends, to reach the next step. and she'll find that they're very willing to teach her a few things.

upload 2 : carlos sainz jr x reader | were/wolf shifter & predator/prey

for all people believe that werewolves are dangerous creatures, your wolf is pretty tame, even with some of his...quirks. this halloween you let him be the big bad wolf to your little red riding hood, while you give out candy to trick-or-treaters. what he doesn't know, is that you have your own trick-or treat planned for him after this– you're his treat tonight, but he's going to have to chase you first.

upload 3 : oscar piastri x reader | car sex & squirting

your boyfriend has to make an appearance at some sponsor event. he's gone ahead and bought you an alluring outfit, but he failed to mention how seductive he looks in the new fitted suit his team got him. you two won't be staying long, but you increase the pace by riling him up, mostly unintentionally. so it's your fault that he makes you ruin his loaned mclaren.

upload 4 : daniel ricciardo / max verstappen x reader | overstimulation

you can't remember the last time you've gotten to spend more than three days at a time with both of your boyfriends. you understand how demanding their job is but, you just can't remember the last time they really exhausted you...pleasurably. and then winter break comes around, and they have all the time they need to make you lose your mind.

upload 5 : lewis hamilton x reader | tender sex & cockwarming

your husband comes home to his monaco apartment after achieving p2 in spain. from the texts you sent him before he boarded his flight, he expected you to be awake when he arrived. however, you’ve fallen asleep–but that’s not a problem. he’ll sneak into bed right next to you and catch a few extra hours of sleep. you’ll commemorate the podium come morning.

upload 6 : george russell x reader | vampire & hickeys/biting

george has created a serious problem. you two have been dating for over three years, and he fed from you the first time about three months ago. the problem lies within the fact that he conditioned you to orgasm every time he used you as his glorified high-class wine bottle. on second thought, that’s a pretty good problem to have; his thirst is sated, and yours is as well.

upload 7 : pierre gasly x reader | witchcraft

witch!reader and potions master!pierre run a shop to fulfill anyone’s magical needs. it’s nearing valentine’s day, and the shop is bombarded with desperate humans looking for love charms & potions, even though there’s no magic spell strong enough to replicate true love. oddly, news travels from a few villages over that there’s a potions master who managed to make a real love potion. pierre has to get his hands on it—for the bit, obviously. there’s no way it will work.

upload 8 : lando norris x reader | pussy worship

if lando achieved a podium at silverstone, you promised you’d give him anything he wants. he thinks about it the whole race weekend, and when the two of you are celebrating his second-place finish, he tells you that he wants to take care of you. you’re disbelieving–he takes care of you every waking hour. lando, on the other hand, said that with his chest. and he’ll prove it to you.

upload 9 : charles leclerc x reader | orgasm delay/denial

the 2023 season has had a despicable effect on charles’ self-worth. it pains you to see how he attributes ferrari’s failure to deliver to himself. you can’t stand to see him berate himself for things that are out of his control. when the emilia-romagna grand prix is understandably canceled, you start forming a plan. if charles doesn’t believe he’s as good as you say he is, you’ll make him internalize it–using any means necessary.

upload 10 : yuki tsunoda x reader | ab-riding/frottage

your mental state is suffering–you’re not sure if you can handle alphatauri posting another thirst trap of your boyfriend to disguise their inability to build a car that doesn’t break within the first ten laps. but, when yuki posts his own half-naked picture on main? he’s asking for it, at this point. clearly, he’s been spending too much time with pierre.

© httpsserene 2023

[actual-changeling]

Crowley did not want the holy water as a suicide pill in 1862, but I believe he not not wanted it as one

He gets pulled down to hell in 1827 and it's not just a slap on the wrist for something minor, he did a very good deed—that didn't just cost them one soul, it has ripple effects! It cost them dozens if not more, depending on what Elspeth did with her life.

Additionally, we do not know how long he stayed in hell. "Quite some time" is not a very exact measurement, and I know there are theories that it wasn't long at all, but that's pure speculation.

Canonically, the next time we see him is in 1862, so assuming he took some time to adjust to the new period, he could have come back as late as 1861. It is entirely possible—and in my opinion very likely—that he spent over thirty years being tortured in hell.

By "torture" I do mean actual torture, btw, the same kind hell threatens him with. In the scriptbook, there's a deleted monologue Dagon has while Crowley is getting rejected (again).

They save the wonderful line "Because no matter what agonies the damned are suffering, Crowley, you will have it worse. We SEE how hell tortures the damned, Furfur literally plays it to us like a corporate powerpoint, so whatever they did to him after '27 was bad.

Crowley looks tired, exhausted, almost sick. He is paranoid, in mental and/or physical pain, he looks like he has lost weight, and we barely see him move at all.

Now compare to the Crowley we saw in Edinburgh. Carefree, happy, taking Aziraphale on dates and going on fun little adventures, getting drunk on laudanum, smiling, jumping around—this is the most relaxed we have seen him since around 1601.

After this, we never see him like that again. That bouncy, curly-haired demon is gone, and hell is responsible; they broke him. I know that look on his face in '62, I saw it every day in the mirror for twenty years, which were (also honestly quite literally) torturous.

Crowley asked for the holy water as insurance, he had probably already come up with several contingency plans involving.

What would happen if they still got him though? What if he erased a demon or two and then hell dragged him back down? I am 100% certain that Dagon would have made good on the promise they give him later. If it had come down to killing himself with holy water or being tortured for all eternity, he would have chosen death without hesitation.

Better dead than in hell.

[sainamoonshine]

Okay so I finally watched Good Omens season 2 and have tons of thoughts about it, especially how the minisodes and side-plots do so much work, thematically.

*slaps flashback segment on the roof* this bad boy contains so much subtext!!

And here’s my analysis about some of it:

The side plots are about at least three main themes that I can spot.

1. They are all, in some way, about resurrection. The children of Job. The Nazi Zombies. The resurrectionist. Miracles being rated on a scale of how many people they can bring back from the dead. Even Gabriel, in some way, arriving naked and without his memories and innocent as a babe, then finding himself again was a form of resurrection.

This, of course, has to do with foreshadowing season two, the one where the main plot point is going to be the second coming.

2. They were all about how much it’s a bad idea to mess with humans. All flashback minisodes either had someone die directly because Aziraphale and Crowley were around (Wee Morag, the guy at the magic shop), or almost die because Heaven and Hell said so (Job’s childrens). In present-day time, Aziraphale’s messing about with people during the ball is explicitely called out as creepy and wrong and Nina & Maggie have a talk with Crowley about it.

This leads to my theory that this is also going to be a major theme in the third season. We know that in the book, Adam explicitly tells heaven and hell to stop interfering. We also know that in the show, Aziraphale and to a smaller extend Crowley need to learn this lesson.

I also think that the resolution of the next season is probably going to involve Earth being marked definitely off limits to angels/demons, possibly via the same mechanism that makes the shop into a safe heaven you need to be invited in (and the same thing became true of the Bentley once Aziraphale claimed it! As pointed out here , Shax had to hitchhike to get in, instead of appearing inside as she did before). Earth needs to be claimed. I think that this will happen either by a combined miracle of incredible proportions from both Crowley and Aziraphale after they reunite, or (and this is my pet theory) by a combined miracle of incredible proportions by Adam and whoever is the new Jesus (I am a greasy Johnson truther lol). This would make Earth a place that you need to be invited in order to go there, and therefore safe haven for angels and demons who promise not to cause trouble.

3. All of the side plots and minisodes are about misdirection. Sleight of hand. Smoke and mirrors. Magic tricks. Showing one thing while something else is true.

This is shown obviously in the Job part and also in London 1941, with the party who is getting tricked being heaven and hell, respectively. Meanwhile, Gabriel and Beelzebub are trying to trick everyone. But who is tricked by the plot lines of Nina/Maggie, and Elspeth/Wee Morag?

We are. The audience is.

It has been pointed out here and here that Nina is meant to make us think she’s a parallel to Crowley when she is actually more of an Aziraphale thematically, and vice-versa.

But what about Elspeth and Wee Morag? We have one that robs graveyards, and one who tells her that is wrong and is worried about her eternal soul. That seems straightforward enough as a mirror to Crowley and Aziraphale, no? Well, let’s just look at what they’re doing and saying to each other, shall we?

“Don’t do this incredibly wrong and dangerous thing. It will have repercussions that you can’t even begin to understand right now.”

“I’m doing this for you! You deserve better than this life!”

“I don’t want the better life you’re offering. I would rather huddle with you here, homeless and poor but knowing you’re safe and that we’re together, than to know you alone out there doing horrible things you’ve convinced yourself you need to do.”

“I do need to do it. Trust me! This is going to fix everything! And if you don’t want me to be alone, then come with me. There! Problem solved!”

(Problem very much not solved.)

Doesn’t this sound, a tiny little bit, like a certain season finale to you guys? Elspeth was, in fact, Aziraphale all along. She thought she knew what was best, and she barrelled along without listening to anyone else, and then it went horribly wrong.

There is a reason why both times this season that we see Aziraphale fucking up someone else’s plan (the corpse to sell, Crowley’s contraband whiskey) because he initially reads it as a bad thing and thinks he’s doing good by destroying it, without having the full context, it backfires on him and then the situation has to be fixed. He needs to stop and understand things properly before taking actions. He needs, in short, to ask questions.

We see that the one time he did ask questions before acting was during the whole Job thing, and it worked out the best out of all the sub plots this season, right? … except that Aziraphale was convinced that he would Fall for his actions there. The way Crowley had fallen for asking questions.

And if the only person whose assessment of the situation matches Aziraphale’s is a demon, if the only one who is doing what he personally thinks is the Right Thing is a demon, then gosh… either that means that Aziraphale himself should therefore also be a demon, OR it means that Crowley shouldn’t be one, and this was all just one big misunderstanding, and maybe if I just speak to the manager…?

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Apologies were in order when Eddie's true whereabouts were revealed, but would a rainy evening bring forgiveness or an even harsher storm? (4.6k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, misunderstanding, anxiety, self-deprication, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, brief touching, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter eight: mind your own business

A simple conversation changed everything.

Admittedly, it was not your conversation, but one you had eavesdropped on. 

You had turned in the final exam for your Experimental Psych class, ruminating over any possible wrong answers as soon as your paper touched the pile on your professor’s desk. Did you get an abnormal amount of Cs in the multiple-choice section? Were your short answers detailed enough?

And then you overheard two guys talking in the hall, one sounding like he’d just chain-smoked a carton of cigarettes. 

“Dude, what the fuck happened to your voice?”

“Lost it at a concert the other night. Totally worth it, though.”

“What concert?”

“Death’s Echo.”

You froze, hoping your sudden stop didn’t draw any attention to you. Death’s Echo had a concert? Where was it? Is that where Eddie was on Monday night?

Potential exam mistakes forgotten, you strode over to the guys on a quest for information. “Excuse me.” Your lips curved into your best customer service smile. “Did you say you saw Death’s Echo?”

The hoarse-voiced one nodded. “Yeah, why? You like them?” His eyes narrowed in assessment; you clearly didn’t embody his expectations of a punk music fan. A fair enough judgment, because you certainly weren’t. 

“Where did they play?” You pressed, ignoring his question. 

“Webster Hall,” he coughed, and his buddy laughed at his apparent pain. “You listen to them?”

“Yup,” you lied easily, not wanting to stick around and have him find out why a “fan” didn’t even know about a local gig. “Um, feel better!” You hurried out of the building, head spinning with this newfound knowledge. 

Webster Hall. It was just over an hour to get there, which meant that the concert must have started late; a practice not unheard of for more up-and-coming bands. The prime time slots went to the headliners who brought in the most money. 

If Eddie had gone to the concert on Monday, why wouldn’t he tell you? Did he think you’d be angry? Disappointed?

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to know he was blowing off work for a concert, you reasoned, and your opinion beyond that is irrelevant. 

Should you ask him about it tonight? Could you? He might hole himself up in his room, ignoring your knocks and only coming out after your shift.

Maybe that was for the best. 

His harsh words from last night continued rattling around your brain, barely taking a reprieve during the test. Honestly, you were grateful you wrote down actual psychological terminology instead of I am a total hypocrite over and over until self-deprecation filled the pages. 

Tomorrow was your last official day of your undergraduate career, your own personal deadline for confessing the truth to your parents, and yet you were no closer to being ready than you were when you first made that silent promise. 

The problem spun a web woven from neurons and synapses, its delicate threads slowly taking over your mind and catching the most daunting tasks. 

NYU Essay revisions Graduation The motel Eisen’s Eddie

Too much. It was all too much, but you couldn’t shake them from their entrapment. You wanted to squeeze your eyes shut and only open them once everything had been resolved. 

You had a fleeting thought of boarding the bus and remaining seated as it rolled past the motel, leaving it all behind and reclaiming your sanity. Running away was always an option, in theory; realistically, you would be overwrought with guilt before the bus made it to the next stop. 

What you’d once considered loyalty was now stained with splotches of cowardice. 

Maybe one day, you would be able to see yourself the way you wanted to be seen: as a trailblazer, a go-getter, a woman in pursuit of her dreams. 

Today was not that day. 

Rain streamed down from the clouds in thick sheets as though compensating for the week’s idle threats of stormy weather. It pelted against the motel’s windows like a steady drumbeat that wouldn’t be drowned out by your clock radio cranked up to its maximum volume. 

Darkness loomed in the night sky, heavier than usual. Wind accompanied the rain, jostling the power lines and making the lights flicker. 

If the electricity went out tonight…

You couldn’t finish that thought, not when the front door swung open to reveal Eddie, drenched from head to toe. His curls clung to his forehead, his cheeks, the back and sides of his neck; his chest heaved beneath a faded Black Sabbath t-shirt that was saturated with rainwater. 

He stood in the doorway for a moment, unmoving and catching his breath. 

This was your chance to apologize. To admit what you know—what you might know. The timing of the Death’s Echo concert could have been a coincidence, but your intuition told you it wasn’t. 

Another awkward smile that didn’t reach his eyes, a tentative “hey,” and he was trudging past you without attempting to stop.

Opportunity went as quickly as it came. Every word you had planned had been scrambled like a tornado swept through your brain and left gibberish-laden debris. 

The version of you that had confidently confronted him about smoking pot a few weeks ago would have scoffed at the way you failed to utter a simple apology. But this was much more complex. 

Eddie’s forgiveness—if he forgave you—was only half of the battle. His blatantly false accusations about your work ethic had cut too deep to ignore. 

Did he really think that little of you? Or was that his own defensiveness rearing its ugly head and taking over?

Then came a cry from down the hall.

“Of fuckin’ course!” Eddie boomed loud enough to be heard beyond his closed door. “Goddammit!”

You abandoned the desk, grabbing your essay papers and bolting to his room. He was at the window, violently pushing down on the pane, but it remained open. The shirt he’d been wearing earlier laid right next to the door as though he’d peeled it off as soon as he stepped into the room. 

Your eyes landed on the dusting of hair that was now plastered to his pecs, another effect from the weather, the soft brown tendrils partially obscured by his demon head tattoo. 

This wasn’t the first time you’d seen him bare-chested. The night he had arrived, he answered your knock in only his Calvin Klein boxers. He was wearing Fruit of the Loom tonight, the elastic waistband exposed from the weight of his rain-sodden jeans. 

Heat burned in your belly, a sensation you hadn’t experienced in a long while. 

“Little help?” Eddie grunted impatiently, and you nodded, tossing the essay onto his nightstand among a sea of his own handwritten papers. 

Had he caught you staring? 

He moved over, bringing both of his hands to the right side so you could press both of yours to the left. The combined force was enough to smack it closed, the resulting burst of wind sending the papers airborne. They floated to the ground, paragraph-laden parachutes, but all you could focus on was the patch of carpet beneath you. It was completely soaked, visibly darker where the rain had seeped in, and it squelched under your sneakers.

“I’ll grab towels.” You started towards the door, pausing to scoop up a sheet of looseleaf that had landed near your feet. It was obviously Eddie’s; his was not as meticulously curated as yours, full of scratch-outs and barely legible, but the words you could make out were enough to pique your interest.

Want what I can’t have

She’s got me mixed fucked mixed up

You couldn’t read any more of it without him noticing, and you certainly did not want to get caught snooping after upsetting him, so you placed it on the bed as casually as you could.

There were extra towels stored in the supply closet, and you jogged back to the lobby, mentally calculating how many you’d need to sop up the mess. Taking as many as you could carry, you perched your chin atop the oversized pile and lumbered into Eddie’s room, dropping them to the ground. 

To your dismay, he had put on a new shirt, but it did nothing to temper your thoughts of running your fingertips over his inked skin. 

The air was now rife with the scent of burning tobacco, the cigarette between Eddie’s lips already smoked halfway to the filter.

“Thanks.” It was muffled and gruff, hardly an olive branch, but it was enough to tug the corners of your mouth in a tepid smile.

You wanted to stay, wanted to ask about what he had been writing, but Eddie snatched up your essay papers from where they’d scattered before you could ask. He shoved them towards you, leaving the edges creased where they crinkled under his grip. 

“Don’t worry, I didn’t vandalize them,” he sneered. A gray cloud whorled from his lips as he spoke, but it didn’t hide his sarcastic grin. 

You steeled your gaze and forced yourself to look just above the glowing ember and into his eyes. “I’m sorry.” You let your apology float downwards, watching for any indication of a softening expression, but he remained tense. 

“You didn’t even bother asking where I was,” he spit. 

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, less abrasive this time. “I assumed...because you were so mean to Ben…” Any further explanation felt too much like an excuse, so you left the sentence unfinished.

Eddie’s chest deflated slightly, his bravado extinguished. He’d been expecting a fight, you realized. 

You refused to give him one. 

“Were you at Webster Hall?” Your voice deliberately turned up at the end, careful to pose it as a question rather than a declaration. Certainly not as an accusation. 

Eddie flinched, his forefinger and thumb quickly pinching his cigarette to keep it from falling. “What?”

“Monday night,” you said. You pushed your right foot into the mound of towels, hit with a sudden bout of antsiness. “Was your errand seeing Death’s Echo play at Webster Hall?”

He said nothing, just looked at you. Really looked at you, assessing whether or not you deserved to know the truth. 

The admission came out gradually, as if it was being met with resistance, pulled from a place so deep he had forgotten its existence. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?”

Eddie took another drag from his cigarette. He held the smoke in his lungs until forced out with a cough. “Wanted to hear how they sounded with their new, ah, frontman.”

Lower lip tucked snugly beneath your front teeth, you nodded. “And how did they sound?”

“Great. Really fuckin’ great.” His wry smile held more sadness than amusement. “Better than when I was with them.”

Your heart lurched. Without thinking, you reached out and took his hand, giving it just a little squeeze before letting go. “I know that’s not true,” you said. “I heard you playing on Sunday, and you’re good, Eddie. Not just anyone could pull off playing Metallica without an amp, but you did.” 

You wished he could see himself from your perspective, see the man whose talent was too vast for a dingy subway station, whose music deserved to be heard by sold-out crowds at The Garden.

Eddie didn’t agree, but he didn’t disagree, either. His face remained neutral, and given the circumstances, you considered that a win.

“I can work tonight. Hang the new wallpaper.” A lightning-speed subject change, but you were becoming accustomed to seamlessly shifting tracks to follow his train of thought. “I’ll be back out as soon as I finish this.” He lifted the cigarette to his mouth again and you nodded, closing the door behind you.

Part of you expected him not to return. If his brain worked like yours, he would overthink the conversation, replaying it over and over until he’d wrung out all the positives and left it saturated with the negatives. He’d opt to stay in his room and smoke out his pack, leaving the wallpaper job unfinished. But you heard the door hinge creak and his footsteps pattering into the lobby.

One thousand words flooded your brain to form myriad sentences, from a joking long time, no see to a much more serious who were you writing about?

Ben thought Eddie had feelings for you, ones that stretched past the platonic confines. But he’d only met him once, briefly. He didn’t really know him. 

Want what I can’t have She’s got me mixed up

Did you really know him?

Eddie had an endless list of things he couldn’t have, which often was the case for people facing poverty. As for the girl who had him mixed up, you couldn’t narrow that down, either. The only women you’d seen him interact with were Phyllis (an unlikely muse, but it wouldn’t be the most bizarre case of unrequited love you’d ever heard of), your mom (again, not likely), and you. 

There was no doubt you had him mixed up. Maybe even fucked up, as he’d written and crossed out. But had you had enough of an effect on him to warrant poetry or song lyrics–

Song lyrics.

It all clicked into place: The band; more specifically, the drummer who happened to be his ex-girlfriend. He’d gone to see them play. He could have spoken to her, and maybe realized that a spark was still present. A real spark, not whatever pathetic flicker you might have felt that night when he’d held your hand as you removed wallpaper, or when you’d exchanged gentle touches after his unfortunate wasp’s nest encounter, or when he’d loomed over you in the subway car and a delicate dip in your belly made itself known.

You decided that this explanation, the one in which you had little to no involvement, held the most logic. His inspiration was his past love–potentially his current love–and your argument was a mere distraction from a much more complicated situation.

A natural silence fell over the lobby, a healing balm over the wound you’d taken turns picking at and reopening. It was the perfect setting to finish editing your essay, and yet you found the task impossible. Any threatening grammatical errors paled in comparison to the slight movements of Eddie’s back muscles, visible through his white cotton shirt as he smoothed down the wallpaper panels. 

The pronounced flex of his tricep as he drove the paper cutter above the moldings with utter precision. 

The soft grunt that escaped his lips as he pressed on his thighs to stand up and admire his handiwork. 

You didn’t know how long you’d been staring at him before the slamming front door snapped you out of it. 

“L-Looks good,” you managed, throat suddenly bone-dry. 

Eddie crossed his arms, took a small step back, and nodded. Wide brown eyes scoured the wall for any uneven edges or unglued seams, his lips pursed in concentration. “Not my best work but, uh, it’ll do.” He smirked at you, then jutted his chin to your left.

A middle-age man stood beside the desk, rainwater dripping off of the slope of his nose. He held an umbrella, turned inside out and rendered useless by the wind. 

“Sign out front says ‘vacancy.’” He grumbled and swiped at his bushy eyebrows, revealing a sliver of beer gut when he raised his arm. “Just need a room for the night.”

“Mhm, of course.” You found your footing with a polite smile and collected the stranger’s money, just as you always had, just as you were supposed to. Because you were at work, and that was your job–not watching Eddie hang wallpaper.

As you scanned the wall behind you for a key, a warm whisper tickled your ear, breath tinged with a smoky aroma. A shiver reflexively wiggled down your spine as Eddie spoke, your body unused to this level of proximity.

“Put him away from my room. He looks like a snorer.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth to stifle your laughter. Eddie was right; you weren’t quite sure what it was about the man, but he did look like he snored. Loudly. 

You meant to look over your paper after your shift, but sleep was too seductive to resist. Just one more day, one more final exam, and then you were done. At least until August. 

Summer stretched before you, and though you would still be spending nights behind the desk, your days were wide open. 

Days that might be spent alongside Eddie. 

There was no formal apology from him last night, a fact that nagged at you throughout the bus ride to school and prevented you from looking past the first page of your essay. That, and the burdens of shame both you and Eddie carried: yours from the blatantly wrong accusation, his from…what, exactly? Why was he embarrassed to tell you where he’d been?

The wound was still too raw last night to press on it, to ask further questions; instead, you kept the conversation light and airy. The only foray into dangerous territory came from Eddie himself when he asked about the vandalism at Eisen’s. You couldn’t answer fast enough before clumsily pivoting the discussion to the warming weather.

And maybe it was your inner people pleaser that craved reconciliation, needed it to unfurl and bloom like a budding rose, that lowered your guard and bade you to talk with him. But people-pleasing didn’t explain the warmth that crept through your body, lazily winding through your veins, when he laughed at your jokes.

That laugh–the gentle nose scrunch it evoked, the lightheartedness it exuded, how it chiseled away at the remaining iciness between you. It was all you thought about that night, your heart relaxing as the friendship was no longer in limbo. 

But when you got to class and flipped through your essay one last time, that newfound homeostasis meant nothing. Yes, there were ten pages present and ready to be stapled, but unless your conclusion focused on angsty song lyrics, you were missing the final page.

Dread’s chill pricked at you, followed by an overbearing wash of heat. The granola bar you’d scarfed down threatened to make a reappearance. 

Stupid. How could I have been so careless? All I had to do was check before I left home, but I was too busy thinking about Eddie to do the bare minimum.

It was a bad dream; you’d wake up and find yourself in bed with your full essay safely stored in your bag. All you had to do was wake up and page ten would be a continuation of psychological development in infancy. 

Your eyes opened hopefully, but you were still in the classroom, and the page still beared Eddie’s sloppy scrawl:

I’m the castle She’s the queen Can’t be a king I’m too obscene

The lyrics a few lines down stopped mid-sentence:

Crushed beneath a broken dream Failed to launch now I

You were wasting precious time. If you left now, you could probably make it home and back before the professor left. You’d have to fork over the money for a dollar cab and forgo your afternoon coffee, but it was a sacrifice you needed to make. 

Stupid stupid stupid—

Your name being called drew you from your pit of self-loathing. It wasn’t Nora; the voice was too masculine and too far away for it to come from beside you. 

It was someone with the same name. Just a coincidence. 

And then you heard it again. Loud enough so it echoed down the hall, but not frantic. And yet your heart fluttered in your chest. 

Eddie. 

There was no way; he couldn’t be—

You squeezed past Nora and thundered towards the door, trying to quell your hopes before they rose too high. 

But there he stood, sweat pasting his hair to his forehead. His chest heaved beneath a white cotton undershirt that was tight around the biceps. Deep brown eyes lit up when he spotted you in the doorway, his lips curving in a triumphant smile. 

“I have your paper!” Sure enough, your conclusion paragraph was clenched in his calloused hand.

You could have cried with relief. Fueled by gratefulness and residual adrenaline, you flung your arms around him. Your hands found his back muscles; at first tensed, almost reflexively, but quickly relaxed. The paper crinkling between your torsos jarred you out of the moment, and you took a step back before he could return the gesture—if he even would have. 

“Sorry, I…” Words suddenly evaded you, eviscerated by the musky scent of his deodorant. He didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, all soft doe eyes and lazy grins from his unlikely heroism, but…still. Your relationship now teetered between employee and friend, and you couldn’t afford to knock it off-balance. “How did you get here so fast? And how did you find me?”

Eddie exhaled a chuckle. “Took a cab. And when I got here, I asked every other person where the psychology classes were.”

“You walked from where the dollar cab dropped you off?” How many blocks was that? No wonder he was sweating. 

His cheeks, already flushed from exertion, tinged a deeper shade of pink. “N-No, I, um…it was a regular cab.”

Sheer disbelief widened your eyes. He must have dipped into his meager savings to shell out the money for an actual cab, putting him even farther behind in his journey home. 

“I…” There were one thousand ways to finish your sentence. 

I can pay you back. 

I can’t believe you did this for me. 

I am so sorry I ever doubted your character. 

I wish we’d hugged just a moment longer. 

You finally settled on a string of words that required no courage at all, just a genuine thankful smile. “I have your lyrics. Let me turn in my paper and I’ll grab them for you.”

Eddie’s timid expression shifted into one of amusement. “Shit, yeah,” he said with a laugh. “Was wondering where those went.”

Opportunity splayed out in front of you, tempting you to ask him about the woman who had him mixed up. Every cell in your body ached to know if she was the same queen he’d placed on a royal pedestal, unattainable despite his valiant efforts. 

Was it fear or politeness that held your tongue? You weren’t supposed to see the lyrics in the first place; how could you justify your questions? Sorry I read your innermost thoughts without permission, but could I pick your brain about them?

Any doubts about your intentions were confirmed when he took the page from you, cocked his head, and asked: “What’d you think?”

There it was. Your opening. You could see it, practically touch it, your fingertips brushing the chance to admit that the songs’ mysterious inspiration gnawed at you—

But then he might ask why you wanted to know. And, quite honestly, you lacked the energy to figure it out for yourself. The desire was too strong to be nosiness, too personal to be gossip. 

Not to mention the inexplicable sourness that burned your esophagus when you’d considered the high probability that he’d written them about his ex-girlfriend. 

“Really good,” you managed. “I can’t wait for the finished product.”

Coward. 

“Me, too,” he agreed with a laugh. “I’m sure the folks at the train station are dying to hear it.”

“The rats’ll give you a standing ovation.”

He snickered. “My biggest fans.” 

A hand squeezing yours prevented you from getting lost in the slight dimple that appeared when he smiled. Nora now stood beside you, expression innocuous to Eddie or any other man, but her dark brown eyes silently asked, are you okay?

I’m fine, you replied with a squeeze of your own, grateful for someone who swooped in seeing you with a man she didn’t know.

“Nora, this is Eddie,” you introduced her. “He’s–he’s my friend who’s been helping us out around the motel. Eddie, this is Nora, best friend and study buddy extraordinaire.”

“Ahh, Wallpaper Boy.” Nora furrowed a brow. “You go to school here?”

Eddie cleared his throat and scratched the back of his head. “No, I…she left her paper, so…” He trailed off as though embarrassed by his chivalry. 

“So now she can graduate!” Nora wrapped you in an embrace so tight that you briefly worried about your shoulder dislocating. She leaned in knowingly, her tone teasing with an air of seriousness. “And keep me company at the ceremony, right?”

You rolled your eyes, acutely aware that Eddie was watching the entire interaction. The last thing you wanted was attention drawn to the fact that you weren’t attending graduation. “Maybe,” was all you said, and Nora left it at that.

There was an awkward beat before anyone spoke again, and it was Eddie who eventually filled the silence. “Heading home now?” He asked you, already starting towards the building’s doors. 

“No, I’m going to Eisen’s. I promised Ben that I’d help clean the graffiti.” You braced yourself for a volatile reaction, or at least something akin to annoyance, but his response was more surprising than any snarky remark. 

“I’ll come with.”

Cocking a disbelieving brow, you did your best to keep your tone free of judgment. You were waiting for the gotcha, but you couldn’t let him know that. “Seriously?”

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, why not? I’ve got the day free, and I have some…expertise in graffiti removal.” He relented with a shrug when you and Nora exchanged curious glances, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. “My trailer got hit a time or twelve back in the day. The tragic life of a Satan-worshiping freak, y’know?”

“But I bet the vandalizers were upstanding citizens.”

“Keys to the city and everything.” Eddie stuck out his hand, palm up, and you could see the details etched into his pale skin. Calluses decorated the pads of his fingers; you’d assumed they were mostly from guitar playing, but now you could add physical labor to their origins. He looked down at his hand, then back at you. “Shall we?”

Your own hands were suddenly slick with anxious perspiration, like a middle school student on her first-ever date. Even that juvenile scenario held more significance than this—two friends scrubbing down a hardware store was a far cry from the Sandra Brown romance novels you secretly devoured in high school. 

And yet, you felt it—that soft electricity that crackled through your whorls of fingerprints when you slid your palm against his, the jolt of energy as he tugged you forward and laced his fingers with yours. If he noticed the nervousness that embarrassing seeped from your pores, he didn’t mention it. 

Nora, ever astute, excused herself with a story about not wanting to miss the bus, but not before whispering in your ear, “he’s cute.” An approval that would almost certainly be followed up with a phone call later to discuss the fine details of the afternoon’s escapades. 

There are no ‘escapades,’ you reminded yourself. You’re removing graffiti, not embarking on a Parisian vacation. 

Eddie led the way until he reached the building’s doors, blinking as his eyes once again adjusted to the sunlight. “I, uh, I have no idea where we’re going.”

You laughed at his candor. “Follow me.”

It was an opportunity to break the grasp, to unleash the anxiety that threatened to cleave you and Eddie back into two separate pieces. He was dangerous because he was temporary; if you allowed him in even farther than you already had—beyond the confines of friendship—his inevitable departure would destroy you. 

Let go. Let go. Let. Go. 

And yet you kept holding on, adjusting only to take the lead. Eddie’s thumb brushed against yours, pausing just at the knuckle to press down in subtle acknowledgment. 

Hi. 

You pressed back with an accompanying smile. 

Hi. 

This time when you reached the subway station, you both jumped the turnstile. 

--

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[eriexplosion]

Yesterday everyone was posting their feelings on TBB. I'm glad I waited, because there's a lot swirling around. Cut for negativity again.

I was introduced to The Bad Batch in August 2022 and fell instantly in love. The characters, the story, the complex family dynamics, they all spoke to me. I wasn't even a Star Wars fan but I went through and devoured The Clone Wars, Rebels, The Mandalorian, all of it. I threw myself into this world and adored every second of it. I must have rewatched season one over five times before season two even came out.

When season two premiered I loved it. Every Tuesday night I stayed up until the episode drop and devoured it immediately. I looked ahead at the schedule and took days off work for the double episodes, for the big Crosshair episodes - he was my favorite early on and season two only made that grow. But season two also really brought Tech into my radar even more. I had always liked him, but here he was shining. The Crossing really solidified it, as an autistic person. I'd never heard someone describe the difference in processing so succinctly before, so clearly, and it spoke to me like very little had. Here was a character that was like me. Here was a character that I needed when I was an undiagnosed child, someone that would have made me feel like I had at least some way of describing my differences.

Then, well. He died. It was an affecting scene, but it felt out of nowhere, it felt unfinished. Tech didn't even get the climax of the episode. He just fell into the clouds, the Batch grieved for a few minutes, and then the plot steamrolled right along.

I didn't believe it, not after the mad scientist presented his goggles and claimed not to salvage anything else. It seemed like such an obvious fake out. The longer I sat with it the less satisfying it felt. It felt so brushed over, so pointless, all for a mission that they accomplished nothing on. Then came the social media circus. Again and again his fall was shoved in our faces on Twitter, demanding we stream it. TikToks were made that were so out of touch they felt like parodies, the wound ripped open again and again, and I thought surely there had to be a purpose to it.

So I waited for season 3 as interviews were done that seemed to almost intentionally avoid calling him dead. As tweets were made promising we'd be so fulfilled if we could only see who was onscreen in the mid-season! (A tweet that immediately garnered dozens of people hoping it referred to Tech, all without a single comment to try and quell the speculation.) It felt already like we were being toyed with, but I thought it had to be for a reason or a purpose. More weirdly vague discussions went up about his Sacrifice, his Fall, his Anything But Death, even as everyone insists that it was so meaningful, the way he died on a mission that accomplished nothing. Jokes were made around Valentines Day.

He Fell For You, get it?

The first official use of killed went up on the databank right after the trailer, on Hunter's page of all places. The first time the interviews used dead was the Friday before the premier. It all felt too late, theories had already grown for months by that point.

Season 3 finally came and I waited up for every episode drop just like I did for season 2, hoping for him to come back or at least for him to be properly grieved, since we had barely a couple of minutes in Plan 99 before it was swept away for the next plot point. Surely Tech's impact deserved an episode of focus, if he were really gone.

The previously on plays his last words twice. But then we skip months into the future. We don't see Crosshair find out the news - even though Tech died on a mission to retrieve him. We don't watch Omega grieve. She barely seems to notice she's missing a brother. We got a brief allusion in episode two. It took three episodes to even mention his name in passing. Five episodes in everyone got their chance to look sad about him, but only for a few seconds and only when his skills were relevant. Compared to the gorgeous callback to Mayday in the same episode, it felt shallow. He had to have been more important than this didn't he?

Episodes 6 & 7 felt like maybe there was a reason. We see a new masked assassin that gets extra focus, who got put through a series of Tech-adjacent situations, whose beef with Crosshair was just a little too personal, who survived longer than all the rest but stayed masked. Rex talks about losing brothers, but Hunter says nothing about the brother they lost. I hoped it all meant something, that this was the reason that he felt so much like he was thrown away, so that he could come back in.

More one off mentions that only really come up when it's about how useful Tech would have been. More poking at the wound that still felt open and raw because we'd never gotten any closure. The closest we get is a single scene in episode eleven, so late in the season and so brief that I thought that couldn't possibly be it.

CX-2 comes back, and he talks like Tech. He's still not unmasked. I really need him to be something because otherwise what was it all for?

The most emotion comes in Juggernaut, from Phee. Its a highlight because it actually feels like it was about him, like he mattered as a person. It's episode twelve and we finally talk about him like a person. We never saw her get the news either.

Episodes thirteen and fourteen pass without any mentions at all. We're running out of time. Episode 15 hits and we get one raw one from Crosshair that Clone Force 99 died with Tech. It's the first time they directly say he's dead in so many words. It's the season finale. CX-2 is a nobody it turns out, and he dies faceless. Everyone gets a happy ending and after over a year of wondering if we'd ever get closure, it turns out Tech's just dead. But look how happy everyone else is!

Everyone gets to grow old. Except the autistic one of course. He's just dead and it hardly feels like it mattered at all. Did you know Wrecker and Hunter don't use his name once in season three? Omega and Echo mention him once each. Crosshair twice, only once with any emotion behind it. Phee tops the charts at three mentions, two by name and one by nickname. We see his goggles four times. I kept count.

There was never a bigger plan, this was just all he was worth. We spent two seasons on Crosshair's absence. We spent a whole episode dealing with it when Echo decided to go with Rex. Tech dies though and all his life amounted to was a handful of mentions when his skills would have been useful, some shots of his broken goggles, and endless cooing out of the text over how meaningful his sacrifice was. Too meaningful to take back, of course, even as Ventress is brought back from her own sacrifice.

I had really, really thought that this time autistic life would be worth more than autistic death. That a character that felt so carefully handled couldn't have just been thrown away for shock value, barely to even be mentioned again, his memory used to string us along to keep us watching. If you added up every mention and shot through season 3 it might actually clock in at less time than was spent on Mayday's send off.

I'm an adult. I'll survive, though the sting of seeing yet another character like me used as a stepping stone for everyone else's happy ending will take a while to fade. But I think about the child I used to be who needed a character like Tech. And I think about how it would have felt to actually get that only to watch him die a handful of episodes later as a side note to his family's story, barely even mentioned again. How badly it would have hurt, how deep it would have scarred.

I'm not that child anymore. But there are a lot of autistic kids out there that are the same as I used to be, and they're learning for the first time that people like us don't get happy endings. Instead they die so that everyone around them can rise up, and they might even get mentioned a few times. But don't worry. Everyone will tell you how meaningful and special it is and how delusional you were to ever hope for anything else.

The Bad Batch still means a lot to me. I think it always will. I love the characters. I love the family, and all the potential they had. But the sting of not belonging in this happy ending is there, and it's deep. It's been a long time since I trusted a show. It'll be a long time before I risk trusting another. And I hope that the autistic kids trying to learn how to close their hearts off behind new walls are doing okay.

[scoonsalicious]

Unwanted: Chapter 13, Uncomfortable - Pt. 1

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Fem!Reader

Summary: When your FWB relationship with your best friend Bucky Barnes turns into something more, you couldn’t be happier. That is, however, until a new Avenger sets her sights on your super soldier and he inadvertently breaks your heart. You take on a mission you might not be prepared for to put some distance between the two of you and open yourself up to past traumas. Too bad the only one who can help you heal is the one person you can no longer trust.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, manipulation, broken promises, final straws.

Word Count: 407

Previously On...: Sam reveals his suspicious that Rhodey's injury might not have been the result of bad intel; Bucky promises to take you Upstate to make up for the celebratory dinner that you feel Carthage ruined. But what are his promises really worth anymore.

A/N: I am sorry for this entire chapter.

Banner By: The absolutely amazing @mrsbuckybarnes1917!

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

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Unfortunately, the weekend away didn’t materialize. Bucky got a call in the early hours of the morning— Jade was in the med bay with a panic attack and was asking for him. 

“Bucky,” you begged, literally begged. “Please, don’t go.”

He sighed as he pulled on a pair of sweats. “I’ve got to, baby. She’s got no one else, and she feels like the whole Tower’s against her right now.” Well, that was because the whole Tower was against her, and if Sam was correct in his theory, rightly so. What did he expect?

“If you go,” you said, sitting up and holding the sheets to your bare chest, “I bet you every dollar in my swear jar that she’s just fine when you get there, but the second you try to leave, the ‘panic attack’ will start right up again.” Bucky frowned at you as he pulled a tee shirt over his head.

“Pocket,” he began, but you started talking over him.

“We’re supposed to leave in a few hours. I’m telling you right now that she’s going to suck up your entire day, and this make up celebration you promised me, to make up for her ruining my celebration dinner, mind you, isn’t going to happen.”

“I just can’t, in good conscience, leave her to suffer by herself, Pocket,” he said, and you could see the struggle on his face, hear the conflict in his voice. “You asked me to think of Steve in situations like this, and I’d want you to be there for him if he really needed you.”

“But she doesn’t need you, Bucky,” you said, voice now raised. “It’s a manipulation tactic, and you’re falling for it!”

“Forgive me for wanting to believe people are better than that.” Bucky reached the door, twisting the handle open. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, and we’ll head Upstate. I promise.”

“Every time you walk out that door for her,” you said, your voice sad, “you’re increasing the chances that one day, it’ll be locked to you when you come back.”

“Are you… threatening to break up with me for offering support to a friend?” he asked warily.

“No, Bucky,” you said as you rolled over, turning away from him. “I’m warning you of what’s going to happen if you keep putting her first.”

You heard him sigh, and the door closed. You didn’t need to turn around to know that he’d left.

<- Previous Chapter / Next Part ->

[railingsofsorrow]

hiiiiii!!!! i saw your requests were open and i’m so excited i love your writing so much!! i was wondering if you would be willing to do a coffee shop au of spencer x barista!reader? i feel like it would be very fluffy :) <3

a healthy caffeine addiction

[spencer reid x reader]

summary: spencer finds a new coffee shop near work and he may be going there not just for the coffee...

pairing: s.reid x gn!barista!reader

w.c: 3K

warnings/content: a lot of flirting; mentions of case related stuff but you blink and you miss it; fluff fluff!! (you asked for it); swearing.

A/N: hi! I used gender neutral pronouns because you didn't specify so I thought it would fit best. the coffee shop is called “enchanted brewing” just do you don't get confused. one more thing! I mixed two of his best eras, glasses + long hair just because I was feeling a little silly. thank you for the request <3

navi

masterpost

cm masterlist

[requested] ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Oh, look, it's boy genius again.” You muse upon seeing a certain long-haired FBI agent next on the line. He's wearing a purple tie today which checks out your theory that it's his favorite color because he's always wearing something purple. It would be funny if it was an unconscious choice. “What's your order today, Dr. Reid? Maybe some coffee with your sugar?” You ask as if you hadn't seen him earlier in the day and had repeated the same thing.

You've met Spencer Reid when he walked in one day as the coffee shop you work in was still closed. He hadn't seen the closed sign. After spending five minutes straight apologizing, you delivered him his coffee order promising he wasn't bothering you. Especially if he was a cute guy with glasses. But you didn't say that last thing out loud, of course.

He's been coming to Enchanted Brewing for two weeks now. You have his order memorized from each early morning that he strides in through the entrance, his satchel hanging from his right shoulder as his bright honey-brown eyes scan through the menu on the wall. He always did that in spite of ordering the same thing from the first day.

Your timeline is slightly offbeat today. Your favorite costumer usually comes in on his way to work, once a day. Except that today he showed up twice. You're not complaining, you're currently trying to hide how happy you are that he appeared right on time for your lunch break.

“I want something different,” he says, adjusting his glasses as he looks at you with a timid smile. “Surprise me?”

“Oh.” You quickly recovered — did you? — from the spell he had you in and moved to prepare his drink. “I'll definitely surprise you, boy genius.” You already had one in mind. Your boss shots you a glare from the other side of the counter where he's delivering an order for a regular. He had reminded you of your lunch break an hour ago but you ended up attending clients and time passed by. You mouthed that it was your last one before lunch and he rolled his eyes with a knowing smile.

You take Spencer to a table outside. The day was good enough to not worry about a storm interrupting your afternoon coffee. Not yet, at least.

“So.” You utter after taking a bite of your sandwich. Spencer is sipping on the surprise he asked for and you are no profiler but your guess is that he liked it. “Aproved?”

“One hundred percent approved. What is this?” He makes a sound of satisfaction as he drinks it again. A smug grin reaches your face. “It's so good.”

You hum, “It is. From how much you like your sweets, I thought you'd like this one. Though, it barely tastes like coffee.”

Spencer silently agrees with you. “What's it called? I can taste caramel.”

“It's a caramel macchiato,” you reply, sipping your watermelon juice. “Caramel is all you can taste, boy genius.” You laugh at the way his cheeks turn pink at your nickname. Ever since he told you about his PhD's and his age. “To what do I own the pleasure of seeing you twice in a day?”

He takes his time putting the cup on the table, fingertips grazing the sides in half circles. When he meet your gaze, you were already staring, but you have the decency to look away, feeling your cheeks heat up. Thank god you were done eating or else you'd be blushing and attempting to swallow your food. Not a good view.

“Um, I... I didn't have a case today and I finished paperwork early so I thought I'd come, um.” He stammers, straightening his posture and exhaling. The middle of his forehead creased a bit and you find it incredibly endearing seeing him trying to figure out the words.

“...you were craving caffeine so you came to the best place near your work?” you complete his sentence with a playfully smirk dancing across your lips.

“Yes!” Spencer exclaims, clearing his throat realising his voice had failed. He offers you a sheepish smile, to which you respond with a grin of your own. “Yes, and... well.”

“It's okay,” you tap your fingers against the hard wood. “You can admit that I make the best coffee.” The convinced stance you had made him chuckle, eyes traveling over your frame discreetly. He could only hope he was being discreet.

“I wanted to see you.” He admits. “And for the coffee, of course.”

Sometimes you had the impression that he did know the effect he had on you, either that or he just didn't want to see it.

“Of course.” You nod as if it was obvious. “Sure.” He wanted to see me? Me?

He pulls his glasses up again, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. He was about to say something when he jumped on his seat, groaning as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“I have to go,” he says, disappointment lacing through his tone. You brush off his apologetic expression.

“That's completely understandable. Duty calls.” Both of you stand up. You still had half an hour left of your lunch, you guess you would have to resort to play your mobile game instead of flirting with a handsome FBI agent. “I'll see you tomorrow?”

“Hopefully,” Spencer picks up his work bag and the coffee cup you thought he had already finished. The corners of his lips raise a bit when he catches the boy genius written in a messy handwriting on the cup. “It's not a local case...”

“Oh,” you try to hide your lack of joy. “Alright. Be careful then.” Spencer nods, giving you a tight-lipped smile. “And don't betray me for another barista, boy genius.” That got you one of his short laughs that made his eyes crinkle in the edges.

“Never.”

──────────────

Spencer was back three days later. The case was a hard one, one of those were the unsub decided to not make their lives easier and kept moving across state lines to hide. He was keeping a victim hostage in the trunk of his car and thankfully, they were able to save her in time. Everybody was granted a day-off to get some rest.

It's not like Spencer was married to his work, in fact, he could enjoy a little alone time in the comfort of his home with a book and some coffee to accompany his quiet reading.

But that's the problem.

Routines are hard to create and they are hard to let go of. Ever heard the saying “old habits die hard”?

Ivan Pavlov researched about classical conditioning. According to him, you have a stimulus and a response in a given situation. It is likely that you'll keep repeating an action if it proves to be beneficial to you. If you like doing it, you'll barely notice it became an habit.

He's been visiting your coffee shop almost every day for the past weeks and that is an habit he's gotten quite comfortable with.

Therefore, in order to not disturb his routine that is very very important to him — honestly? Spencer can't handle changes — he drives down to Enchanted Brewing. The soft jingle of the bell alerted of his entrance.

Spencer gets in line. There's seven people in front of him, maybe because it's lunch hour and all of them are rushing to get their orders. Spencer waits. He still hasn't heard any flirting remarks or winks sent his way and he's not sure if you are not behind the counter today or if his lenses are just really blurried that he can't see your pretty face.

“Afternoon, sir. What would you like to order today?”

You are definitely not behind the counter and he's slightly confused before listing off his order. The clerk notes it down, then he stops midway, studying Spencer with narrowed eyes.

“You're boy genius?”

Spencer blinks, startled. He opens and closes his mouth like a fish and really, what is that question? How is he even supposed to answer that? You call him that, so is that a yes? Is he supposed to say yes—

“Sorry,” the guy says, shaking his head with a laugh, “they told me about you.”

“Oh.” Spencer doesn't know what to say, thankfully, he doesn't have to because he carries on.

“You two have kind of a system going on, right?”

“A- a system?”

The clerk's polite smile widened into a smirk. “Well, yes.” He says slowly. “You order the same thing and they make you an entire difference drink, isn't that it? They explained it and that's how I got it.”

“Uh, yes. I think so. But you don't have to—”

Your coworker waves him off, “I was just making sure you were the guy, really. They left a special order for you in case you appeared while they were still sick.” Spencer's concern is visible through his face. “Sore throat, I asked them to stay at home this week. You know, they don't care about day-offs so I forced it upon them to have it either way since they're sick. Really stubborn, that one. I'm Tim, by the way."

“Spencer.” He gave a little wave while introducing himself and was quick to add. “Are they okay?”

Tim turned to look at him in the middle of the beverage making. He nodded. “Yes, they'll be back in a day or two. Nothing serious.”

Spencer lets out a sigh in relief, leaning against the counter to wait for this order to be ready. He hopes you get better soon and that you were taking proper care of yourself. If he knew, he would have brought some jell-o and mint tea, they are great remedies to soothe a sore throat. After he paid for his surprise drink, he sat down on a table outside, there wasn't a lot of people and he enjoyed his alone time while mindlessly scrolling through his phone.

Maybe if he had gotten your number, he could ask how you were. But he didn't because Spencer doesn't think. He doesn't have game as Derek says, whatever that means. It's not his fault that he can't think straight around pretty people, is it? He can't help it!

He left the café that day with another great drink to add to his list and his mind set on one thing: he's going to ask for your phone number next time he sees you.

──────────────

Every person in the whole freaking world decided to appear at Enchanted Brewing today. Nothing wrong with people. You love people, really!

But your back is aching and your hand is cramping from how much you used the hand mixer. God, you needed to lay down for a month and wake up maybe never.

A costumer just left and you finally turn the sign to closed. Thank god. You're finishing cleaning up the tables when you notice the silence. Being around people all day long can be a little exhausting, especially if you have to yell a name in order for someone to pick their order. Your recently recovered sore throat does not appreciate that.

You're alone tonight. Tim left early to run some errands and you're in charge of closing. You don't mind, it's actually peaceful to close the shop and make your way home. You don't live far and the streets aren't too busy nor totally empty.

Boy genius didn't show up again.

You know his job is demanding, he's occupied being a hero and using his brain to solve difficult cases and catch bad guys. You feel bad complaining about your work, knowing what he does. He must get exhausted daily.

You miss him. And it's weird, you're not one to get attached easily. To be able to call Tim your friend took about half a year, you just don't trust people fast. Spencer just feels different. He makes you feel comfortable, despite not having the experience of hanging out with him outside of your work, he's that kind of person that has a safe ambience all over him. You could be wrong, you're aware of that, you don't really know the guy. He's a regular, he loves your surprise coffees, he's got a cute smile and an awkwardness that is endearing. You don't know more than that, but you'd really like to.

After placing your uniform in your assigned locker, you check one more time to see if everything is in place before leaving.

The doorbell scares the shit out of you and you grab the first thing you see to defend yourself, which is your phone.

It's closed. You turned the sign. The lights are off. Who the fuck is entering a coffee shop when all of the lights are off?!

“Uh, what... Why are you threatening to throw your phone at me?”

And there it is, the man you cannot stop thinking about materialising in front of you. Not a burglar.

Your shoulders slump in relief and you lower your phone back to the counter. “Fuck, genius. Don't do that. Why do you always ignore the closed sign?”

“Sorry,” he responded, bashfully, realising how the situation came out. “I saw you were inside and I just came in, didn't thought it through.”

“Mm. You scared the shit out of me.” A soft smile formed on your lips and it soon became a wide grin. “God, you're so...”

“Annoying?” he offers, grimacing as he buries his hand on his overcoat. Both his cheeks and the tip of his nose are pink, reminding you of how cold it is outside. “Sorry, I'll just— I'll leave you be.” The regret on his features is what puts you out of your dazed stare.

You sprint over to the door, blocking his exit. “I didn't say that.” You let out with bated breath. He halts right in front of you, big doe eyes staring down at you in surprise and you're beaming at him again. “You could never be annoying, boy genius. I was about to say amazing, actually.”

Morgan and Penelope are two people that keep making his life miserable by the amount of nicknames they make up for him. But this one? This one he doesn't complain at all. Boy genius. You could call him that every day and he would never dare be annoyed by it. The reason is because he loves your voice — which he realised it's a bit hoarse right now — but that's besides the point.

That is a nickname he missed dearly.

Were they about to call me amazing?

“I have a confession to make.” Emily is one hundred percent right when she said his IQ is slashed to 60 while around pretty people, because now that he's seen you he can't seem to remember what he came here for. “I betrayed you.”

You raise a brow, surveying him with amusement. “Oh?”

“Yes. I, I ordered a caramel macchiato on a cafeteria in Fairbanks.” He elaborated, lifting his hand to brush his hair behind his ear. You wanted to find out if it was as soft as it looked. “It wasn't good. I don't know, it wasn't the way you made so I didn't— I didn't though it was good.”

Your chest swells for a reason you're not sure.

“What I'm trying to say is that... Your coffee is better. No. It's not actually that—”

“Breathe. You're turning red like a tomato.”

That made him impossibly redder. He pushed his glasses up his nose, swallowing hard.

“Spencer,” you say, dropping your flirty facade in fear of him combusting in front of you. You nudge your finger against his hand, timidly. “I won't bite. You can talk to me.”

“Okay.” He croaks out, playing with your fingertips. And without looking directly at you, he lets out a sigh to muster some courage and says, “I like you.” He manages to say, pretending as if the way you said his name didn't affect him that much. You're smiling at him and suddenly he's fourteen again with butterflies in his stomach because his first crush just greeted him in class.

“I like you too,” you confess in a whisper. You're too close yet so far.

Spencer shakes his head, lifting his gaze to yours since he was staring at your hands. “Not like that. Not in a I like-your-coffee-and-your-flirting kind of way.”

You fear you're misunderstanding him and you don't want to make a fool out of yourself, so you remain quiet, getting lost in the twinkle in his brown eyes provided by the street lamp outside.

“I like you in a... I-want-to-spend-more-time-with-you way.” Finally, he says it. Could he have explained it better? Yes. Is he able to do it? Not with you looking at him like that. “I-Mm, I mean, I love your company and spending time here but I would like to take you on a date.” You were supposed to ask for her number first! What are you doing, you idiot?! “If you want to, of course.”

You can't hold back the giant grin taking over your features. “Boy genius,” you drawl out, doing what you've been fantasizing from the first moment you've seen him: touch his hair. You pull a stubborn strand behind his ear and from the way he almost flutters his eyes shut and leans into your touch, you assume he likes it. “When I said that I liked you, I didn't mean as a favourite-cute-costumer-of-the-month kind of way. But in an I-think-he's-cute way.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” You laugh. “Spencer, I would love to go on a date with you. Preferably, somewhere where we don't drink coffee.”

The crinkles around his eyes show up as he chuckles, nodding. “Okay, yeah, we can definitely do that.”

“Cool.” And you can't stop smiling like an idiot.

Spencer not only got the number but a date with the cute barista. He'd say that's very cool.

[vxntagedior]

So could you do a, Xavier x fem!reader , where she's Wednesday's cousin and has a crush on Xavier. When Wednesday goes to Xaviers shed and thing pushes the blanket from over the painting, could it be a painting of the reader, and Wednesday thinks its creepy and she tells reader and you can decide how it ends. (idk if that made scenes but I thought it would cute.)

picture of you

summary | after discovering a picture of you, wednesday can't keep her mouth shut

pairing | xavier thorpe x fem!addams!reader

warning | fluff, friends to lovers, xavier has a crushhhh,

word count | 1.3k

Wednesday couldn’t hold a single ounce of love to anyone, except her cousin, and you really couldn’t call it love. The two of you grew up together with your father constantly on the run, staying with your aunt and uncle and cousins most of your life. 

You were the blunt end of Wednesday’s emotions, trying to make up for her lack of. 

Unlike your cousin, you were excited to start at Nevermore. Since you were little, your aunt would tell you the stories of her time there hoping that one day you and Wednesday would attend. While you basked in her stories, Wednesday just rolled her eyes at her mother, sick of hearing about her marvelous time at Nevermore. 

Standing next to Enid as she showed the two of you around, Ophelia Hall did not have enough room, leaving the three of you together as roommates. 

Starting to think in your head, Enid’s voice had drowned out as you scanned over the quad before your eyes stopped to stare. 

Turning, Xavier saw you looking at him, giving you a little half smile before turning back to his painting which was ravens, you think.

The rest of your day at Nevermore wasn’t much, taking your own route while Wednesday took hers but you didn’t expect to be sitting in the infirmary already. 

Sitting on the other side of her bed, both you and Xavier watched her quietly. He was the one to find you after bringing Wednesday to the nurse, explaining about what happened. 

“Thank you again, the two of you are even now.” You smiled softly. 

Xavier looked up at you, his eyes slightly wide, “You aren’t talking about my-”

“I am.” You laughed quietly. 

“Can never leave that in my past.” He looked down, smiling. 

Since the two of you have grown closer but once Wednesday started her journey to find the Hyde, you knew you couldn’t leave her on her own, going with her and keeping all of it from Xavier. 

Wednesday kept most of her theories to herself, especially that she believes that Xavier is the Hyde.

Heading out to the woods towards Xavier’s shed hoping he could clear out some answers for her. 

Once arriving, Thing could sense something, running from Wednesday, walking around Xavier’s shed, looking over to see the canvas, covered. 

Pulling down the cover, Xavier looked over, letting out a sigh watching Wednesday walk over towards the painting.

“Look, listen.” Before he could even explain, Wednesday spoke.

“You drew her.”

The picture was you during the Rave’N walking down the stairs, your dress swaying as you stepped down each step. Standing behind her, Xavier lifted his hand, letting the painting come to life, your self painting following your steps walking down the stairs. 

“I-I couldn’t stop thinking about her.” He confessed. Xavier truly didn’t know what Wednesday was going to do with the information, probably knowing that you were going to find out soon enough. “Just let me tell her first.”

“I make no promises.” Wednesday spoke. 

Coming back into her dorm, Wednesday contemplated what Xavier told her, knowing he probably would never tell you, and after hearing Enid gush about you and Xavier potentially being together, Wednesday thought it was best to let you know. 

Upon entering the room, she saw Enid sitting on her bed watching a movie, looking up, you saw your cousin coming into the room. 

“You finished what you were looking for?” You asked her, pausing the movie, turning your attention to Wednesday. 

“No, my dream didn’t help.” She concluded, finally turning to look at you. “Xavier drew a picture of you.”

There was a moment of silence before Enid let out a loud squeal. Both of you turned to see Enid, practically shaking in her spot. 

“Oh my god!” She gushed, grabbing onto your shoulders, shaking you back and forth, “I told you he liked you back!”

You couldn’t barely comprehend what she said, still shocked that Xavier drew a picture of you, you always thought he saw you as a friend, a friend wouldn’t draw a friend would they?

For the rest of the night you had to listen to Enid go on and on about you and Xavier, saying that the two of you needed to get together immediately, along with that, saying that the two of you could go on double dates with her and Ajax. 

“Enid.” You said calmly, “He doesn’t know that I know.”

“Right.” Enid nodded her head slowly, “You’ll have to tell him tomorrow then.”

You knew Enid was right, you needed to talk to Xavier eventually. 

Seeing him in classes the next few days, you tried to plan it out as much as could, speaking to him after class but something always got in the way of you getting to him. 

Finally gaining the courage, you made your way towards his dorm, frowning when he didn’t answer, after the 3rd time trying you gave up, but still on a mission to find him. 

Going out into the woods, following the familiar trail towards his art shed, knowing it was the only other place he would be that wasn’t his room outside of class. 

“Xavier.” You knocked on the wood, opening the door slightly, poking your head in slightly. 

Seeing that his headphones were on, you slipped in quietly, slowly making your way next to him, “Hi.”

Jumping, Xavier tried to hide what he was hiding while trying to answer back to you. “Shit, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” You apologized, “I knocked, but you had your headphones on, and I was wondering if we could talk?”

Finally looking at what he was drawing, your eyes widened, seeing the couple on his canvas.

“That looks beautiful Xavier.” You confessed, letting your eyes soak every spot. “Who did you draw?”

Feeling conflicted, Xavier didn’t know what to say, he knew that it was time to tell you about the other painting, and along with that, telling you how he feels about you.

Feeling his mouth dry, Xavier muttered up a small whisper, “It’s us.”

Closing his eyes, Xavier was waiting for the worst, saying that you now hated the painting, or that you didn’t think of the two of you like that.

“Really?” You smiled, “I kind of came to talk about us.”

Xavier let out a small sigh, looking up from his lap, looking at you, waiting for you to continue. “Wednesday told me about your painting.”

Letting out a hough, Xavier knew that Wednesday couldn’t keep her mouth shut, always wanting to know everyone’s drama. 

Silently, Xavier stood going back to your painting, pulling down the sheet. You stood on his side, letting out a quiet gasp. It was, you couldn’t even form into words about what you thought about it. 

“I know it’s kind of weird but-mmpphh!”

His words were cut off when he felt you grab ahold of his collar, pulling him down towards you. Feeling his lips on yours, Xavier greedily grabbed your face practically forcing his lips any farther on yours. 

Humming, you smiled into the kiss, feeling your bottom lip being sucked, pulling away slightly, looking out a quiet moan. 

Pulling away, both your lips swollen, you shyly looked up at Xavier. 

“I guess you liked it.” He murmured. 

“I think I liked it a lot more.” You smirked, “I have to thank the artist properly.”

“Another kiss should be sufficient.” He smiled, pulling you closer to him. “And maybe a date if he’s lucky.”

“I think I could make that happen, he seems really cute and my friends are constantly telling me that the two of us would be perfect together.”

“I think they have the right idea.” He smiled, gazing down at you, silently thanking your cousin for giving the two of you that final little push.

fin.

[6sakusa]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐄

𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 𝐉𝐀𝐄𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑

Synopsis: In which you’re a dancer for the world renowned band Paradis’ tour & the leader and golden boy Eren Jaeger has taken quite a liking to you, he’s been waiting to get his hands on you, for months. It looks like today is his lucky day.

This is based on my rockstar!eren headcanons which you can also read here.

CW: Heavy smut, dry humping, oral, penetration, mentions of virginity loss, hints of infidelity, Eren being manipulative & toxic.

A/N: Take this as a thank you for 1000 followers!

“Y/n, Jaeger’s here for you again.” Nanaba, your dance couch for Paradis’ tour points behind her with a slack expression on her face. She’s clearly unimpressed by the brunette devil sporting a smirk on his lips, his beautifully deep teal eyes drag to yours in such amusement that you almost wish you could read his mind. His hair is tied back in his signature style of course — albeit the stray hairs that somehow frame his face perfectly and God you could talk about those eyelashes for days. If there was one thing you knew about the lead vocal for Paradis it was that he was beautiful and admittedly every time he got you out of dance practice it felt wrongly exciting.

“You know you can’t keep stealing my best dancer right? I kinda need her to know the choreography for your songs.” She turns to face him, there’s a dangerous smile lingering on his lips while his hands are pushed deeply into his pockets.

“Just this once.” He promises, it’s a lie and that shouldn’t surprise you.

“That’s what you say everytime.” Nanaba rolls her eyes, “What do you want her for anyway?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” He lets out a breathy laugh while leaning against the wall behind him, something lights up in his eyes as you walk over though you and Nanaba share the same expression, unimpressed.

“She’s right.” You back the head choreographer for two reasons. 1) She’s extremely scary when she wants to be, the majority of that includes the next time she sees you after Eren pulls you away. 2) You’d already missed a countless amount of practices due to the boy anyway. Though it was hard to say no, not when he was the sole reason you were on this tour anyway. Besides, Nanaba knows what he says goes, he’s not necessarily her superior but the second Paradis’ star boy starts whining about how he doesn’t like her she’d be gone, that wasn’t something she could afford.

“You’re good at what you do.” He says, pushing himself off the wall. He’s so convinced you’ll come with him because he knows you, you’re friends at this point and that means you’re aware that he never takes no for an answer. “So you’ll have no problem catching up.”

“Come on Eren—“

“Please?” He interrupts, here he goes pulling out the big guns. As if on cue a dejected expression appears on his face, he pouts slightly while gazing down at you longingly. He grabs your arm, tugging you to come along with him.

“Why are you like this?” You sigh, giving Nanaba a sorry look but how could she blame you? You were in the same boat as her, neither of you had the power to say no to Eren Jaeger, and chances are he wouldn’t let you.

As usual the other girls in practice whisper amongst themselves, always speculating between the relationships you and Eren had. The most popular theory was that you were fucking of course but as they’d told you a million times it was nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, you should wear it on your forehead as a sign of pride but the simple fact was that it just wasn’t true. You were friends, and he only wanted to be friends, right?

“Can’t help it.” He murmurs, dipping down so that his lips are practically grazing your earlobe, “I’m lonely without you.”

“If you keep saying stuff like that people will get the wrong idea.” You hit him lightly on the shoulder, much to his amusement.

He cracks a grin, leaning forwards so only you could catch his words. “If you don’t come with me now then I’ll definitely give them the wrong idea.” It’s a threat that he intends to go through with, you know Eren which means you know it’s never a good idea to call his bluff.

You gulp, nodding with agreement. “Okay fine but this is the last time.”

He chuckles to himself, turning on his heel. He’s already eager to get out of here. Truthfully, the only time he has any interaction with Nanaba, or any of the dancers for that matter is when he comes to watch you. He won’t lie, he’s done some fucked up things to the sight of you dancing, so much so that if he told you he’s sure you’d run for the hills but he can’t help it. Sometimes he burns your movement into his memories so he can jerk off to it the same day, the thought of you moving against him like that was exciting. However, you’ve proven that it’s harder to get into your pants than he would’ve anticipated, no wonder you were a virgin. At times he thought it was more hassle than it was worth but the moment he saw your pretty face again he was sold. He knew he had to have you.

“I’ll practice it later, I swear.” You sport your coach one last bashful smile despite the annoyed look on her face before catching up with the reason for all your troubles. Like it wasn’t hard enough being away from home touring with Paradis, to make matters worse Eren was constantly putting the few bonds you did have here with people on the rocks.

“Where are we going?”

“My dressing room.” He replies like he’s been anticipating your question, he’s got a look on his face that reminds you of an angel but you know better than that, it’s a facade.

“And why’s that?”

“Got a new strand of weed, thought you might wanna try.” He glances down at you as you fall into step besides him. He thinks this position suits you, next to him. “Unless you stopped smoking — already?” His tone is challenging and it annoys you, it annoys you because of course you’d want to prove him wrong. He’s the one that got you hooked on this shit in the first place even though you told him it wasn’t a good idea for a dancer to smoke. You needed all the stamina you could get.

“You know I haven’t.” You say meekly, your gaze falling to the ground. He loved that, loved knowing how much he’s corrupted you. Is it filthy? Maybe. Did he care? Not one bit.

He laughs lightly as you make your way through the back rooms. You’re never at one venue long enough to actually get used to the place, let alone know where you’re going. It made you wonder how much Eren would be wondering around and why? He’s probably taken countless girls to his dressing room already in less than the week you’ve been here.

Make no mistake, you’d been to his dressing room countless times before too. The difference was nothing more than friendly interactions would take place there between the two of you. Still, you found it hard to believe that Eren was just maintaining platonic relationships with all the girls he spoke to. But then why you? You couldn’t put your finger on it. You also couldn’t help the lingering thought in the back of your mind that you were unattractive, maybe he just didn’t wanna fuck you.

“How do you know these corridors so well?” You blurt out your thoughts while taking another turn.

He laughs to himself, looking away. “I like to explore.” Another lie. You weren’t sure if Eren was comfortable with lying so much because he thought you wouldn’t catch on or because he knew you would but he also knew you wouldn’t challenge it. You had a feeling it was the second one. Maybe he liked the exert this twisted sense of power over you.

Eventually, his hand turns one of the door knobs and you step into his dressing room. It’s almost the same as all the rest, almost. It has a clothing rack with whatever his stylists have decided will be best for the three performances they have here, a leather couch against the wall with a coffee table just opposite it and a mounted TV purely for his entertainment. The only difference is that this one has a bed, now that caused your eyebrow to raise a little. You knew that some nights Eren would rather sleep in his dressing room than the rowdy tour bus. You supposed he got a bed added for that reason, you couldn’t see him and all his 6ft2 glory fitting on that couch anyway.

Though, much to your surprise Connie, Jean and Armin were here. You’d had interactions with them multiple times, particularly Jean who could only be described as a flirt though you weren’t sure you would consider them to be friends. Essentially, the entire band of Paradis sat in anticipation while Jean rolled one up, it was hard to feel like you weren’t intruding on something.

“Finally.” Armin collapses onto the bed, seeing the two of you walk through the door. “You’re back.”

“What took you so long?” Jean glances over at the two of you, him and Connie are situated on the couch leaving one empty spot at the very end.

Eren points behind him at you, “Nanaba was tryna be difficult with me.”

“You know you don’t have to ask for her permission right?” Connie quirks up an eyebrow, amused by your meek demeanour.

He places a hand on your back, he’s teasing you. “She likes it when I’m polite.”

Armin chuckles, “It’s nice seeing you again y/n.” The other two nod in agreement upon eyeing you head to toe. Sometimes you didn’t understand how surreal your situation was, touring with one of the biggest bands in the world, definitely the hottest members. Somehow even befriending one of them and now you were what? Going to casually light one up with Paradis?

“Yeah, real nice.” Jean is practically liking his lips. Curse you and those stupid shorts you wear for dance practice. Perhaps he ought to be more like Eren and pay you a visit or two. “Eren thinks about you too much.” Connie observes, “Pulled this out and the first thing he’s talking about is how he doesn’t want you to miss it.”

Eren takes a seat besides Jean, you stand there awkwardly not sure where you’re supposed to go.

“Come.” He taps his lap lightly while ignoring Connie’s comment, gesturing you to sit on it. Naturally your eyes widen and of course he finds it amusing. He smiles, looking at his other bandmates. “It’s not a big deal, right guys?” They nod routinely and you swallow whatever is stuck in your throat before slowly walking over and taking a seat. Eren has a satisfied grin as you try to situate yourself, you don’t expect him to place both his hands on your hips, holding you down.

“Who wants to go first?” Jean asks while Connie holds a lighter to the blunt. Across the room you see Armin close the window, they intend to hotbox, great. Looks like you wouldn’t be practicing later today after all.

“Ladies first.” Eren taps your thigh, Jean hands it over to you, they all watch intently as you take the first hit. “Look, she doesn’t even cough anymore.” Eren teases while rubbing your back, the others laugh while you blow out the smoke.

“Sorry.” You say shyly, “I think I got lipgloss on it.” They all wave you off hearing a string of it’s fine and it’s okays fill up the air. You hand it back to Jean and allow it to rotate around the room. It doesn’t take many hits for you all to get high, now you’re putty in Eren’s hands, all laughing and giggling while you run your fingertips down his chiselled chest talking about whatever nonsense the topic of discussion was.

You feel like you’re zoning in and out of reality leaning into the crook of Eren’s neck while he’s got an arm draped around your waist. Connie and Armin are engrossed in their own conversation while him and Jean talk amongst themselves. “Wanna share whats left?” Jean asks, but he’s not looking at the blunt, he looks between you and Eren. A devilish smile is on his lips and you can’t really discern what he means because there is nothing left to share.

You feel a chuckle reverberate against Eren’s chest, he shakes his head lightly. “Not this time, I’ve been dreaming about this one.”

“Oh I get it.” Jean grins, he places a hand on your thigh before speaking up once more, “It was nice seeing you y/n, you should come around more. Don’t wait for Eren to invite you.” He begins standing up, Connie and Armin glance at eachother, seemingly having some shared understanding as they stand too.

“Bye guys.” You wave, looking up at them through those pretty eyelashes of yours and for a second Jean almost considers saying fuck it to Eren but he doesn’t. They trail out slowly, all leaving some lingering touches on your body until it’s just you and Eren left.

You figure now is a good time to climb out of his lap but he holds your hips in place, “Where are you going? You don’t wanna keep me warm?” He asks, it’s a whisper against your neck and it sends all types of goosebumps crawling down your body.

You giggle, your brain is too fogged up to think straight. “Erenn.” You drag out his name while he flips you over so that you’re straddling him. Once he gets a look at your face he knows there’s no use trying to conceal the hard on in his pants.

“Hmm?” He hums, running his hand up and down your thigh. He’d been working on this for months, literal months. Now that he had you right where he wanted you there was no way he was letting you slip away. Today, it was now or never.

“What does this tattoo mean?” You snuggle your head in his chest, the weed is making you slightly tired.

“This one?” He glances between you and the art on his body. He smiles to himself, his eyes trailing off somewhere. “I’ll tell you another time.” Seeing how you were on the verge of literally falling asleep there was no time for him to waste talking about absolute nonsense. He needed you today, now.

“You always say that.” You whine, hitting him lightly. You can tell he’s amused from the airy laugh that escapes his nose. “I tell you everything about me but you never tell me about you.”

“Yeah?” His eyebrows quirk up, “You tell me everything like what? That you’re a virgin? You don’t drink? You were too scared to smoke?” He’s mocking you, you know that he is but he does it so sweetly while brushing some hair out of your face.

“You remember that?” You ask, of course he remembers. It’s all he thinks about when he sees you. That you’re untouched, pure, you probably don’t know how to make yourself feel good. He wants nothing more than to destroy you, corrupt you even. Whenever he sees you he gets hard, so hard. He knows that you feel it, the bulge prodding against your shorts but you haven’t said a word. You’d never sat on a mans lap before, you assumed it was normal and that drove him insane.

“I listen to the things you tell me.” He smiles, it’s so easy to think he cares, that he’s just a concerned friend and nothing more. “On the bright side that’s one down.”

“One down?” You raise an eyebrow.

“Yeah, you’ve smoked now so what’s left? A couple drinks and losing your virginity? Seems easy enough.”

You look away, “I still haven’t found the right guy.”

“Oh yeah? What happened to your little boyfriend?”

“W-We’re on a break.” You mutter, embarrassed. Now it makes sense, you hadn’t mentioned him in a while and Eren wasn’t sure why considering when the two of you first met he was all you would talk about. He respected it though, he’d fucked enough girls with boyfriends that he thought it was rare to find someone like you.

“A break?” He chuckles, “So you’re not together anymore?” Everything was coming together perfectly.

“We are, I’m meeting him tomorrow to talk about it, we just had and argument.” Your voice trails off, it’s obvious you don’t want to talk about the situation between you and your boyfriend but of course Eren can’t help his curiosity.

“So you two have never—?”

“No.”

“Why not? He’s your boyfriend, isn’t that the right guy?”

“I don’t know.” You mumble.

“You poor thing.” He says, pushing you further down against his crotch. He was close, so close. “You don’t know what it’s like to feel good.”

“F-Feel good?”

“Yeah you know from sex, or are you afraid to talk about that too?” He teases, he’s about to have you right where he wants you and he can taste it.

“I’m not I just — I don’t know, maybe it’ll happen one day and I can feel good too.”

Bingo.

His eyes widen before he catches his composure. He’s got you now hook, line and sinker.

“You know.” He begins, “I bet I could make you feel good.”

“What?”

“Just a suggestion, you’re my friend of course I’d help you out where I can.” There’s a smirk on his lips. Damn him and his stupidly perfect features. And fuck the weed you’ve both consumed that’s clouding your senses.

“I-I don’t know.” You become nervous, retracting from him a little.

“Come on, I’ll be good to you, so good I promise.” He’s just able to hold back from bucking up into you but he’s not sure how long he’ll last.

“You will?”

“I swear.” He places a hand on his heart.

“But my boyfriend—“

“You guys are on a break, you’re not together. Think about him and all the girls he’s fucked, do you wanna be the only one with no experience?” He coos, rubbing your back. He was a starboy in two things, music and being a complete world class manipulator. Really this was getting him off even more, knowing he’d send your virgin pussy to your boyfriend tomorrow completely wrecked by him.

“What would we do?” You ask, becoming more receptive to the idea.

“Whatever you want, whatever makes you feel good.”

“I-I don’t know what I want to do.” You stammer, Gosh that makes him even harder. You really didn’t even know where to start in the sex department, he couldn’t believe it. A girl as beautiful as you, with those eyes and that dream body, how? How have you never been touched before?

“Want me to show you something?” He asks, you hesitate for a moment but end up nodding.

“Here.” He grabs your hips with both his hands, “Move against me, I’ll help you.” He rolls you against his crotch and throws his head backwards, he couldn’t take it. He needed to be inside you. It feels so good, you feel so good against him like this even with the fabric separating the two of you. You let out a whimper and his eyes shoot open to garner your expression.

“You like that?” He asks, grinding you against him harder.

“Y-Yes.” You position yourself directly above his bulge, your breath hitches with a moan as you feel it attempting to prod into you while you push against it. Your sounds are music to his ears and he can’t believe he’s actually enjoying dry humping, he feels like a virgin again.

He picks up the speed, looking up at you even though you’re seemingly lost in pleasure. “Wanna try moving by yourself baby?” He asks, he guides your arms around his neck so you can be in a secure position. You nod before picking up the pace again and he thinks he might lose his mind.

He glances down to see a dark patch forming against the crotch area of your grey shorts. Fuck you’re so wet for him and the two of you haven’t even had any skin to skin contact yet.

He lets out a moan which encourages you to go faster. “I-I feel like—“ You can hardly get the words out between your moans, there’s an unfamiliar feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t quite put your fingers on.

“Come on, get on my thigh.” He repositions you because he knew if you kept going he’d cum in his pants and there was only one place he was aiming to nut tonight and that was inside of you.

“W-Why?”

“Just trust me.” He says, tapping against your hips as a sign to start moving again. You don’t have the bulge prodding against your entrance but quickly the feeling returns.

“Eren—“ You moan out his name, he thought he was already rock solid but now he was so hard that it was physically hurting him to be in these constraints. He needed you so bad.

“What is it baby?” He asks, watching you move against him, your shorts were practically drenched at this point.

“I think I’m gonna—“

“You’re gonna cum? Do it, for me.” Something snaps in your stomach at his words and euphoria washes over you, you’re seeing white while he continues to move your hips allowing you to ride out your high. You’re moaning uncontrollably before practically collapsing into his chest once you’re done.

“Fuck.” He says eyes wide while rubbing your back, “Think that was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Really?” You mutter against his shoulder blade, breathless.

“Yeah shit.” He glances down, pulling at the waistband of your shorts. “You’re drenched for me.”

“That felt good.” You say, pulling away from his chest so he can get a better look at your lower half.

“Yeah?” He finds it amusing, so much so that he let’s out a small chuckle. “I told you so, didn’t I?”

“What else can you do?” Fuck you were so eager for him, so eager for him to make you feel good he couldn’t believe it.

“You’re so greedy.” He says while picking you up before placing you down on the bed that Armin was on just minutes before. This all felt so wrong, so dirty but you wanted it all the same, wanted it so bad.

“I can show you something else.” He cages you underneath him, pressing his lips against your neck while be sucked on it. It didn’t even take a minute for him to find your sweet spot, to have you whimpering and squirming underneath him. “Do you want me to?” He whispers against your earlobe.

You nod eagerly but he doesn’t take it as an answer. “Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes Eren, I want you to.”

“Good.” He pulls away, burning the mental image of you sprawled out on the bed, peering up at him expectantly into his mind. Fuck he wishes he could take a picture and cherish this for ages, he’d jack off to it daily if he could.

Slowly, you watch as he tugs against your waistband, slowly pulling your shorts down until your lace panties are all that are in his way. “Look at you.” He whispers, he’s talking to himself more than he is to you. “So pretty, I knew it. Better than what I imagined.” He’s practically salivating as he moves your underwear to the side, faced with your bare pussy.

You hide your face out of nervousness, “You’ve been thinking about me?”

He pushes your hands to the side, wanting nothing more to see your face while he deals with you. “Do you want the truth?” He asks, his fingers dip down into your wetness, brushing over your clit. A light moan escapes your mouth before you nod. “I’ve been thinking about this for months, I wanted to fuck you ever since I laid eyes on you. Touched myself to you more times than you could know.”

Your breath hitched, the way he was speaking to you was so lewd you should almost be offended but it made you want him more. You wanted him so bad that you began to clench around nothing.

“Oh you like when I speak to you like that? Noted.” He brings your own slick up to your mouth, watching you suck his fingers before he removes it, putting it into his own mouth. He gives you almost no time to recover, desperate to be back against you once more. He kisses your thighs, giving you some time to ease into the feeling of him around you so intimately like this. The thought of getting head from him drove you almost insane with anticipation.

Eventually he pulls your hips closer to him on the edge of the bed, removing your panties completely. “If I fuck you good after this, will you let me keep these?” He holds them up in the air, it’s almost embarrassing how drenched they are but you nod anyway. Anything for him to get on with it.

"Shit baby." He mutters before putting his mouth on you, you moaned instantly, it felt like the wind had been knocked out of you, this time he didn't give you a moment to ease into it which made you close your legs around him.

"Open." He demands and you oblige, you couldn't even speak in response all you could do was moan at the way he was moving against you. He added a few fingers into the mix which made you go wild. If this is what sex was like it was a bummer you hadn’t done it sooner. On the bright side, you were doing it with Eren Jaeger of all people, the Eren Jaeger, and he wasn’t shy to show you how experienced he was. He grinned at how obedient you were, for some reason there wasn't a feeling in the world that he adored more. He could die right here and be the happiest man on earth.

He places your hands in his hair, guiding you to tug and pull on it. You guessed it was probably a kink of his but you enjoyed it anyway. The way he moaned against you when you pulled at him sent vibrations throughout your body. His hairband falls loose and you can’t help but think he looks like his absolute best like this, ravishing you while somehow lost in his own pleasure.

He's got both of your plump thighs in his hands, hooked under your legs. He's almost raising you off of the bed slightly, wanting to taste every last bit of you.

"I can't, I'm gonna—" You couldn't even finish your sentence, he was too much, having no mercy on you. Tears of pleasure begun to prick your eyes while he mocks you.

"You're gonna what? Use your words gorgeous." He looks up at you between your legs, your head is tilted back, eyes contorted in pleasure. He took a mental note of it, in all his years of living it was the best thing he'd ever seen.

"I'm gonna cum ‘Ren."

"Do it" Almost as if it was on command you came unravelled there, you were practically seeing stars. If it wasn't for you pulling him away by his hair he would've kept ravaging you, he couldn't help it, couldn't get enough of you.

He leaned in again to kiss you, he wanted you to taste yourself, to pay back the treat you'd given him, "Fuck." You said once you'd caught your breath, he chuckled at your disheveled state before sitting up slightly.

“What do you think your boyfriend would say if he could see you now?” He cocks his head to the side playfully. “Do you think you belong to him?”

You shake your head, “No.”

“Then who do you belong to?”

“You.”

The corner of his lips tug upwards. “Good girl, you’ve been so good for me.” He begins to unbuckle his belt as you watch intently. You could already see the his hard on through his black jeans but as soon as they were off you practically gasped. His print was evident through his boxers and to say he was massive was an understatement.

You watch as he begins palming himself through his boxers, as if he wasn’t already hard enough. “What do you say, you wanna touch?” You lean forward, running your hands up and down his clothed shaft and you hear him groan lowly.

“Fuck tell me you’re ready for me baby — been wanting this for ages.”

“I’m ready.” The moment the words come out of your mouth he pins you against the bed, once he pulls his boxers down his cock springs free and your eyes widen. It's even larger than you thought it would be. It's pretty, tanned just up until his tip which was pink. You could see the vein running along the side and genuinely asked, “Will that fit?”

“Gonna make it fit.” He throws his head back as he drags it through your folds, feeling your wetness warm him up makes him go crazy. You squirm underneath him, the base of his cock grazes over your clit more than once. “All the things I wanna do to you.” He whispers, “Gonna fuck you like crazy, I’ll be so good to you.”

“P-Please Eren, I want it, I want you.”

“Say it again.” He dips his head down so his ear is against your mouth, he wants to hear you crystal clear.

“I want you—“ You’re interrupted by the intrusive feeling of his head passing by your folds. It hurts, it hurts more than you can imagine as he pushes deeper inside of you. He’s moaning as he pushes into you you’re not sure why.

“Shit baby you’re so tight, too tight.” He groans, knitting his eyebrows together like he’s concentrating on not doing something.

“Ren it hurts.” You say, unintentionally clenching around him further.

“Wait don’t—“ Before he can finish his sentence you hear him whimper against your neck, something warm starts spilling inside of you and your eyes widen at his light moans. It takes an entire minute for him to realise whats just happened as he pulls away and out of you slowly.

“Did you just—“ You look down, seeing white seed spilling out of you.

His cheeks grow hot while he takes in the sight before him. Fuck another kink he didn’t even know he had, now he wants to breed you. “Why are you looking at me like that? It’s your fault.” He says with exasperation, “Why’d you grip me so hard?”

“What? I-I’m not, didn’t mean to.” You mumble, unsure of what he means. Was this supposed to happen? Considering this was your first time doing this you didn’t know how embarrassing this was for Eren and he was grateful for it. He’d never came just from entering a girl alone, then again he’d never fucked anyone as tight as you. This was going to be harder than he thought. You’d made him reach his high in record time and fuck did it feel good.

“It’s okay, I’ll forgive you this time.” He says, lining himself up against your entrance again, “Try to loosen up baby please, I wanna fuck you.” He begs, you’re not sure what he wants you to do. You’re as wet as you could be right now.

He pushes himself in once more though slower this time, his girth made it a little painful at first and he recognised that. He knows it hurts and he’s trying to give you the time to adjust but his patience is just running so thin. You hissed, your back arching against the bed while he coaxes you into calming down by pressing kisses against your face.

You winced a little causing him to rub your temple, "Just a little more okay? You can take it." You nodded as he pushed in a little further, a moan escaping from your lips. He settled for a moment after bottoming out, bringing his lips to yours to distract you from the pain once again. A tear escaped your eye and he places a kiss on it but you could feel his dick twitching inside of you. He liked seeing you cry.

“You can move.” You say, he wastes no time picking up the pace, fucking himself into you. He loved this, you were like his tight little fuck doll, he was putting everything into not cumming again. Eventually the pain subsides into pleasure for you and you can hardly form a coherent thought at the way he’s hitting all the right spots.

"You still need to loosen up for me." He says between moans, while thrusting into you like there was no tomorrow. He was so much more vocal than you would’ve expected but you loved it, you loved being fucked by Eren Jaeger.

"I-I have." Your sweet voice almost cracks between the pleasure. Squeezing him a little tighter as he talks to you. It wasn’t your fault, you weren’t doing it on purpose.

You can feel him laugh, muttering against your neck, "Think you might just be too tight, fucking virgin.” He mutters the last part but you still catch it.

"Think your dicks too big." You shoot back but he continues anyway. He begun experimenting with the angles, knowing he's found your G-spot with one particular moan from you.

"Shit, faster Eren." You asked causing him to grin to himself, your wish was his command. He was still cautious that he didn't want to hurt you but he was picking up the pace to the point where you wondered what kind of stamina this man had. If he'd asked you anything now there was no way you'd be able to formulate a single world, your head was in the clouds.

“You’re a fucking selfish bitch you know that?” He asks between the lewd sound of slapping filling the air. “Keeping this pussy from me for so long.” He slaps your clit and you’re so sure that the entire building could hear you at this point but he didn’t care, you were sure of it. “Shit you’re mine, all mine you hear me?”

You don’t respond, letting him fuck you into the clouds. “I’m talking to you.” He brings you back to earth, his hands surrounding themselves around your throat relentlessly.

“I-I’m yours.” You struggle to get the words out but do it eventually.

“Good girl, you gonna let me cum in this pussy again aren’t you? Gonna let me do it inside?” His tone is questioning but his words are a demand, he’s going to do it whether you like it or not.

“Yes ‘Ren.”

He hums with satisfaction before grabbing your hand and placing it on your clit while he continues to thrust into you, “Come, touch yourself.”

Your hands freeze and eyebrows knit together, you’ve got no clue what to do and that becomes painfully obvious to him. “Need some help?” He places your thumb on your clit while putting his own over it, moving them both in a circular motion.

“What? Too much?” You’re babbling incoherently and he’s beyond amused, you’re practically creaming on his dick and he knows that all the months of waiting was worth it. This was the best pussy he’s ever had.

The familiar knot is back in your stomach but you can’t bring yourself to warn him this time, he only knows it once you start clenching around him uncontrollably. “Oh fuck.” His moans slice through your own. Your high sends him into his own estacy, no amount of focus could stop this from happening when you were this tight around him. He came so hard, harder than he ever had before, squirts of cum filled you up and you could feel it continue to pile on even when you'd thought it had stopped. His deep moans resounded the room, he sounded amazing.

He played with your nipples while continuing to fuck the two of you into overstimulation, he didn’t care. He was drunk on this, “Can’t stop fuck I can’t stop.” He threw his head back, releasing another load into you. The next feeling was unfamiliar, you felt liquid gushing out of you and onto his bare V-line as his eyes widened. “Do it again.” He continues bucking into you, slapping his hands against your clit until you squirt some more.

Once he’d pushed himself to the absolute limit he finally slowed down, pulling out of you. Your body was shaking underneath him and you looked like you weren��t even present. “Didn’t know virgin pussy could do that.” He grins, taking in your fucked out state. Almost immediately the look on your face makes him hard again.

He attempts to line himself back up again but you’re still clenching around nothing and he knows he’s got no chance of getting back in there. “What? You need a little rest?” He perks up, he’s teasing you as usual. “Don’t care, this is my pussy now which means you’re gonna be good to me right, gonna let me go again?”

All you can do is whimper, jolting as he runs his hands over your body lightly.

“Gonna fuck you everyday from now on, you ready? This is just practice.”

Reblogs are appreciated & requests are open!

[co-sharkie]

(POLY) WWE’s Himbo BFs when your dads find out

Kevin Owens has been like a father figure to you ever since you joined WWE. When Randy Orton made a return, he had also taken up the same role.

Both of them were there when you needed anything and somehow always managed to show up when you were in trouble to help.

It was comforting at first, but then you got worried when you started dating both Grayson Waller and Austin Theory.

Both duos were constantly head to head.

The boys knew how close you were to Kevin and Randy. They honestly thought it was funny that no one knew about you three being together.

It was a good few months before anyone found out. It was Bianca Belair who had seen you with Austin. She congratulated you two and went on her way, promising to keep it quiet.

Until she saw you two days later with Grayson. Then she was a little confused. She asked you about it the following day, and you had to expose your secret.

Again, she promised to keep quiet and soon Naomi knew. It wasn’t a big deal, you three were just a little worried.

Austin and Grayson knew they would be dead if Randy and Kevin found out.

Majority of the roster knew that if you got hurt in any way, those two would burn the place down.

You sat at the table across from Kevin and Randy. They had invited you for dinner after your victory in the ring. Luckily, it was late so the restaurant was not packed and no one seemed to recognize any of you.

"So..." Randy put his fork down on his plate and folded his hands on the table. "I've been hearing some rumors that you have been seeing someone?"

You choked on your drink. "Oh really?" You nervously laughed. "What's the details on that...?"

Kevin looked between you two. His eyes narrowed like he knew you had a secret. How he always knew was a surprise to you. "Someone Kevin and I are all too familiar with..." Randy stared at you. His eyes burning a hole through you. "Someone named... Grayson Waller."

You find interest in the wood grain of the table. You could hear Kevin abruptly stand up. His chair fell back onto the floor. A few patrons looked over to observe the scene. "Waller!? You're dating Waller!?"

You held your hands out to Kevin, trying to get him back into his seat. "Please calm down! I promise it's not as bad as it seems."

Kevin stormed off, presumably to the bathroom to run some water over his face. You held your head in your hands. "Why did you have to say that, Randy?"

Randy chortled. "It had to come out one way or another."

"But here? Really?" You ran your hands down you face. "This couldn't have been a private conversation?"

It was another ten minutes before Kevin returned to the table. His face was no longer red and he seemed much more calm. It surprised you how fast he was able to calm himself after hearing the news.

He sat back in his chair that Randy had picked up earlier. He put his hands together and looked at you before saying, "I may have overreacted, I apologize. We can talk about this later." He forced a smile and finished eating. The table was silent the rest of the night.

A few days after the dinner, you still have not spoken to Kevin or Randy about your relationship with Grayson.

You immediately told both boys, which resulted in Grayson almost fainting.

"How did he know?? I'm gonna die!"

You had to reassure Grayson he would be fine, and that Kevin wouldn't actually kill him.

The night of the next show, Grayson and Austin were with you backstage.

Grayson ran off to grab some drinks from catering while Austin stayed in the quiet corner of backstage with you. You three would always find the most desolate spot before interacting with each other. So far, it worked in keeping your relationship concealed.

Austin held both of your hands in his while you two talked. The boys had a match later and wanted you to see it. They've been wanting you to come out to the ring with them ever since you all started dating, but it was discussed that it would be better if you didn't.

"You don't think Randy or Kevin are going to go out there, right?" Austin asked. Even though he wasn't caught, he was still worried. Kevin and Randy could both be extremely unhinged.

"No, I doubt it. If you're that scared, I'll distract them during your match." You smiled.

Austin playfully rolled his eyes. "I'm not scared, babe. Just don't want them to interfere with our match." Austin leaned down to give you a kiss. When your lips met his, you heard familiar voices.

"There you are." Randy called out your name. "I brought you some-"

Randy paused and Austin slowly pulled away from you. Austin and you stared at Randy, who looked like he was about to drop the plate of cake he had in his hands. "Ok, I'm scared." Austin whispered.

Moments after, with all three of you still frozen, Kevin came around the corner. Kevin stopped, and you gave him a pitiful smile. "Please don't freak out." You pleaded.

Kevin pointed to both you and Austin, jaw dropped." What is going on here? Why are your hands on her hands?"

"Because... we are dating..." Austin managed to stumble out.

Kevin looked at Randy with confusion. "I thought you said she was dating Waller, not Theory."

"I thought she was, too!" Randy and Kevin started arguing. Kevin blaming Randy for giving him false information and Randy trying to defend himself.

You and Austin slowly started backing up while they were distracted with each other. Your stealthy get away was foiled when Grayson had finally returned. "Hey, babe, they didn't have the gatorade flavor you like so I just got you water."

Grayson was too busy struggling to hold a bunch of drinks and snacks in his arms to notice Kevin and Randy. Both older men had stopped arguing and their necks snapped to look at Grayson.

Austin had called to Grayson through gritted teeth. Grayson finally looked up and you thought you saw his soul leave his body. "Oh no." He squeaked.

"Did you just call her 'babe'?" Kevin's eyes were wide with ferocity. You couldn't tell if it was from surprise or the intent to murder.

"Ok, let's just all calm down." Randy put a hand on Kevin's shoulder. "We can talk this out, we don't need any blood."

Austin still stood next to you, holding one of your hands. Grayson was a bit off to the side of you, frozen in fear with little baggies of snacks threatening to fall from his grip. Kevin's breathing increased and you were certain that if Randy didn't have a hold on him, he'd be charging one of your boys through the cement walls.

"So, which one of them are you actually dating? Or is this all just an elaborate... rebellion prank or something?" Randy tried to get his thoughts out.

"Randy, uh..." You struggled to find the way to express your relationship with both of the boys in a way Randy and Kevin could understand. "I'm with both."

Kevin looked at you with his jaw tight and his eyes wide. "Like... a throuple?" Randy questioned.

You nodded. Austin had shuffled behind you, getting increasingly uneasy with Kevin's expressions. Randy looked between you three, as did Kevin.

"Well, I was prepared for one of them, but not both." Randy laughed.

Kevin gave Randy a look. "You're just fine with this? I wasn't even prepared for Waller!"

"Hey, if they're happy, who am I to get between it." Randy guided Kevin to the side, ushering him to leave. Randy handed you the plate he was holding that whole time. "Here's that cake I got for you. Be good, kids!"

Once Kevin and Randy were out of ear shot, Grayson dropped to his knees and let out the breath he seemed to be holding that entire time. "That went better than I thought." Austin said.

"I thought I was going to die..." Grayson mumbled.

"You're so dramatic, get up." You pulled Grayson back up with a small laugh. You pat his back and took a few things from his arms, then planted a kiss on his cheek. "You guys need to get ready for your match."

[songmingisthighs]

Wanbelyn

introduction pt. i | pt. ii | pt. iii

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ch. xxxii - big bird maybe

neurosurgeon!hongjoong × reader

buy me coffee ?

where love and peace is held, i never expected for this to happen. i planned and i planned, i expected, and i hoped, but it was never you. you held what i wanted hostage to make room for you, the thing that i needed but has no means of acceptance. deny me, live your best life.

Having worked with Kijoong and experiencing the many emergencies Hongjooong involved you in, you had gotten Kijoong's night routine down to the T.

Sure, there were some setbacks like how Kijoong demanded that he wanted his daddy to tuck him in and you had to negotiate with him. No matter the headache the boy induced, you found yourself still falling for his absolute adorableness. Unfortunately, you see some of those attributes on his father (which you can never nor were you ever planning on telling him). So even when Kijoong (somehow) crawled on top of the kitchen counter as you got his PJs out, you still managed to kindly get him down and scold him yet again.

His damn pout was enough to melt your whole resolve. That and the way he cupped your face and patted your cheeks gently as he said he was not bad. Like his father, Kijoong tends to not really mean his apologies. While you can hear them both say sorry, they tend to say it as more of a courtesy as opposed to an actual admission of guilt. You had a working theory that they do so in hopes that when they do make an admission of guilt, people would appreciate them more.

"Okay, here we go buddy," you grunted slightly as you carried the giggling, wiggling boy down on his dad's bed. Though Kijoong has his own bed in his room, he still sleeps in his dad's bed at night. You adored the fact that they stuck so. Even when it was just the two of them, they try to make what they have an actual family. Sometimes you feel bad for the way people mock and poke at Hongjoong for being so dedicated to his job. For one thing, it wasn't his fault that he was good at his job and that he was a genius at what he does. With the talent that he has, of course people would want him to help them. Though he was on track to becoming an attending, he still had to jump through hoops to prove himself despite people's praises. Despite that, he still spend what spare time he had to ask about Kijoong. Heck, he'd video call him through you whenever he could. Just the other day, when Hongjoong was stuck fixing a botched spinal tap, he managed to have the nurse hold his phone as he sing Kijoong to sleep because he had promised Kijoong that he would. Maybe after a while, you found yourself liking this nanny job.

"Dad?" Kijoong asked after his giggles died down, trying to push the blanket off of him to tease you. His big eyes destroyed all possibilities of you being annoyed at him even when you had to tuck him in for the eight time. "Your daddy has an association event tonight," you said, sitting down next to him on the bed while tilting your head to the side and smiling down at him.

Kijoong liked it when you used big words on him. It made him feel like his dad who's a big professional who used words on a daily basis, it made him feel like he was taking a part in his dad's world.

With pursed lips, Kijoong looked between you and the door multiple times until you understood what he meant. "Oh ho ho, no, mister, you are not staying up tonight to see your daddy come back home," you scoffed, bracing yourself to anticipate if Kijoong decided he wanted to make a run for it. "Why not?" he huffed, frowning deeply which reminded of you that time Hongjoong saw you cooking while carrying Kijoong on your hips. "Because last time you stayed up to wait for your daddy I had to deal with you being cranky the next day and I do not enjoy working with pouty children," you teased him, poking him on the nose to accentuate your words which thankfully made Kijoong scrunch his nose and giggled instead.

Without needing to negotiate more (thankfully), you watched as Kijoong make himself comfortable before curling into your touch, letting drowsiness slowly take over him. You scooted closer and began stroking the boy's head, enjoying the rare time he was quiet and calm, looking like any other child on earth and not a child who has psychological and behavioural issues. At times like this, Kijoong looked like an angel.

"(y/n)," he called out softly, forcing you to snap from your little daydream, "Yeah buddy?" Kijoong peeked through his lashes up at you, "Are you gonna stay?" he asked, voice sounding like he was afraid. You furrowed your eyebrows at him, "Of course, buddy. I'll be here until you fall asleep," you smiled, trying to comfort him only for him to shake his head. "No! Are you staying long?" he asked again, letting you know that he was asking whether or not you were staying with him for the long run.

That took you by surprise.

When you accepted the job offer from Hongjoong, you were always under the impression that your employment was momentary. He wasn't giving you much of an option and you still wanted to become a nurse. You had taken the job with the expectation that it was merely short-term but what you didn't expect was genuinely loving the boy who had found it in himself to trust you since the moment he met you.

Of course, you had yet to plan your exit what with not even having an exact timeline of your departure from Kijoong's life. You had always thought that you'd have more time.

But at that moment, being asked like that directly from him. something felt heavy in your chest.

Kijoong was growing more anxious about you not answering him. So he wrapped his fingers around your pinky and ring finger, "I'll be good, promise," he added.

Your heart broke slightly at him practically begging you to stay.

You couldn't help but swoop down and plant a soft peck on the top of his head and envelop him in a hug.

"I'll stay here until you don't need me anymore, okay? Until then, you just be yourself because I love you for who you are. Don't you even worry your little head," no matter how much you tried to hold it in, your emotion still spilt out and your voice cracked slightly.

Kijoong curled more into you and he even held your hand tighter. "Don't go like mommy," he said and you felt your breath hitched at the sudden mention of his mom.

It was always a mystery to you about what happened to his mom but you never wanted to pry especially since Hongjoong never really mentioned his mom to you. And based on what you heard, Kijoong wouldn't have been able to know much about his mom either. Even if he did, why would you ask such a question to a child?

A child who was clearly severely affected by the absence of his mother.

For now, even as a substitute, you allowed him to rest in your embrace. You allowed him to feel the embrace of a woman who cared for him for once.

Knowing what could happen in the future, it was the least you could do for him.

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[c-nstantine]

Guess Who's Coming to Dinner?

Description: Y/N Wayne brings a very special guest to dinner.

Word Count: 0.8k

Warnings: Cursing

It was rare that all of the bat children were summoned for a reason outside of their nightly duties. It was a sign that shenanigans were about to ensue and Bruce normally took this as a sign to drink heavily. Usually, it was because of Y/N but these little gatherings always left strong memories on each sibling.

"Do we need to be here for this?" Jason asked feeling a bit stuffy in his white button-up shirt. He already rolled up the sleeves and undid the first two buttons.

"Yeah, Y/N gets a new boyfriend like every week," Duke said looking through his comic book. He didn't have anything else to do but this was not how he wanted to spend his day off.

"This is different apparently. She said and I quote 'It's serious this time. I would have his kids,'" Tim used air quotations when explaining why all of them are waiting for Y/N to show up for dinner.

"Hell, maybe I will stick around," Jason said intrigued by the idea of his sister wanting to have someone's kids.

"Whoever sticks around the longest doesn't have to patrol for the next three days." Bruce walked into the parlor where all the children were currently relaxing. No one knows how Bruce does the things that he does but Tim's working theory is that there are secret passages throughout the manor.

"Oh, you're on," Cass said appearing behind Bruce. She was on a new mission to make Bruce flinch. She hadn't been successful yet but she could feel herself getting close.

"Everyone please meet in the dining room. Y/N and her guest have arrived," Alfred said with a smile playing on his lips because he knew that shitstorm that was about to occur.

"I wonder who we're meeting now," Tim thought aloud.

"Probably another model or actor," Damian said holding Pennyworth the Cat. He was only excited to threaten someone else for dating his sister. It had been one of the few times deemed acceptable to threaten people outside of patrol.

"You think I'll be able to get an autograph?" Duke asked. Unfortunately, no one was able to answer because they saw who Y/N's guest was.

"Slade? How the hell did you get here?" Dick asked, noticing how Slade Wilson's arm was wrapped around his sister's waist.

"Y/N get away from him. Is he holding you captive?" Bruce asked. If there's one thing that Bruce was going to be, it would be a concerned father, especially when it came to Y/N.

"What? No, he's my boyfriend," Y/N exclaimed so her family wouldn't start pulling out the weapons that were hidden all over the manor.

"I always knew one of you would give me a heart attack, I always thought it would be Damian or Tim," Bruce

"We're dating," Y/N said happily while looking up at Slade. He placed a kiss on her lips and all of her siblings immediately gagged.

"You're dating my nemesis," Dick accused Y/N with a nagging finger.

"Yeah, he was like thirsting after me real bad so I made him promise not to do dumb stuff," Y/N explained while adjusting her long box braids that were in a ponytail.

"It's true. I haven't plotted against you or anyone close to you in almost one hundred and fifty days," Slade said it was like some kind of accomplishment. He was captivated by Y/N, there was something about her that made him do whatever she wanted without hesitation.

"Thank you, I think," Dick's confusion was written all over his face.

"You're welcome," Slade responded before pulling out a chair for Y/N to sit in.

"Bruce, you're not going to say anything?" Tim asked. Bruce was indeed a man of few words but this was odd even for him.

"I mean I could but then I'd be a hypocrite because I did some stuff with Talia last week and I'm trying to be better. Alfred, please get our finest bourbon, make that three bottles," Bruce may not trust Slade but he still wanted to eat the dinner that Alfred painstakingly prepared.

"Y/N, can I speak to you before we start dinner?" DIck asked in his best big brother voice.

"Sure," Y/N followed him to a nearby hallway.

"He tried to kill me," Dick whispered a little loudly.

"But he's hot," Y/N admitted without shame.

"He's old," Dick was willing to try anything to deter Y/N from dating Slade Wilson, Deathstroke. A mercenary who had tried to kill him multiple times.

"He's a silver fox," Y/N argued back.

"Why are you with him?" Dick asked looking for a genuine answer from his sister.

"I like him and he's kinda funny. Plus he's got a real big-" Y/N's eyes widened as her arms widened to show the size of what she was talking about.

"Eww. I don't need to know that," Dick said covering his ears.

"I was going to say, heart," Y/N tried to be convincing.

"No, you weren't," Dick deadpanned.

"Okay, probably not,"

[vikisbay]

✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

【MEGUMI F.】 flowers.

A/N —> I can just imagine Megumi trying to hard to hide his feelings for you but Gojo can see right through him and so he tells Megumi to leave you flower until he’s ready to confess !! ★彡

✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧

➤ it’s been two weeks, two whole weeks of flowers being left outside your dorm room every single day. There’s never a note leaving you flustered and confused. You had asked around the entire school and no one knew anything. “I wished I knew who it wass!” you said with an annoyed huff.

Fushiguro, Kugisaki and Itadori sat with you on the ground of the training field. You had all been training for hours while you talked there ears off with all your different theories. You decide that it must of been someone outside of Jujutsu Tech “do you really need to know who it is…?” Megumi asked clearly annoyed with you at this point.

“Yes, yes I do?” You threw a handful of grass at the raven-haired boy, “I think it’s Yuta!” Nobara stated her thoughts ignoring Megumi “he’s always looking at you” she pointed a finger at you emphasizing her idea.

“Whatever” Megumi rolled his eyes before storming away from the group leaving all three of you confused “what’s got his panties in a twist…” you muttered throwing the other two first years in a laughing fit, “he’s…just jealous” Yuji said in between laughs.

His words causing you to stop giggling “w-what?” Itadori and Kugisaki look at each before falling back into there laughing fit. “Ugh you guys are no help” you rolled your eyes and walked off to go find Fushiguro. When you didn’t see him in the hall you decided to knock on his room door.

You stood in front of his dorm waiting to see if he was even inside, after a few minutes past you decided that he probably wasn’t in his dorm so you turned to walk away “what…?” A low voice said behind you making to spin on your heels back to the now opened door.

His hair was wet and he was wearing gray sweat pants, he clearly had just gotten out of the shower the biggest give away was that… he didn’t have a shirt on.

Oh god

“Why’re you here?” He raised a brow at you, his voice snapping you out of your thoughts “oh… I just wanted to check up on you… you know, because you stormed off…” you tried your absolute hardest not to let yours eyes wander to his exposed chest.

“I’m fine” he said quickly, he moved the towel that adorned his head to rest on his neck. “Well… can I come in?” A small smile found its way to your face “I promise I won’t talk about the flowersss!” You said jokingly.

He nodded his head slightly, you pushed past him and made your way to lay on his bed “training was so exhausting…” your eyes shut sleep slowly enveloping you. You could feel a dip in the bed when Fushiguro sat down next to you “do… do you enjoy the flowers…?” You opened your eyes to look at him “definitely!” You nodded your head happily.

“Is there… anyone you want it to be…?” You shut your eyes once again smiling at the idea of a certain someone giving you these flowers “there’s one person”.

“Oh…”

His tone confused you for the 100th time today “why do you sound disappointed…?” You sat up on the bed opening your eyes to look into his, “I’m not” he shook his head quickly, “mhmm” your eyes wandered across his room and soon landed on a bouquet of white roses.

“You should go back to your dorm… it’s getting late” he said getting up from the bed, you ignored what you had saw and quickly exchanged good nights. You were tired from your long day and decided to call it a night.

─────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

The next day was another extreme training session with Maki and Toge, you tried your best to take your mind of your current situation, you and Maki walked back to your dorm to find another Bouquet of flowers.

But this time they were familiar… way too familiar.

It was a bouquet of white roses. The same bouquet that you had seen in megumi’s dorm last night. You pick up the flowers and made a run for Fushiguro’s room. When you got there you started knocking non-stop “I know your in there Megumi!” you yelled from outside the door.

The door was pulled open, an annoyed expression planted on the boys face “wha-“ you slammed the bouquet into his chest “so it’s you! It’s been you all along!” His face went from annoyed to absolute fear and shock “I-I can explain” his fingers wrapped around the bouquet nervously.

“It’s not what it looks lik-“ his eyes widened when you pulled him into a passionate kiss, you hands moving to his hair, your fingers getting tangled in his dark locks and his own hands found there way to your waist.

You pulled away from the kiss trying to catch your breath, he looked into your eyes “if I knew you felt the same… I would’ve told you sooner” his voice was just barely a whisper, you roll your eyes before pulling him into another softer kiss, his lips soft when they pressed against yours.

“I really love you Gumi…”

“I love you too…”

— yours truly, Viki

✧. ┊︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶┊.✧