#might share those too with my nOtes
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AAAAAA big deterence from my usual postings
Flexing the multifandom brain cells and dropping these studies I did of stinky mask man:
Seemed seasonally appropriate
#michael myers#halloween#im actually very anxious about posting these#but#super proud of these#there were a LOT of unpresentable studies and whatnot i did before these#might share those too with my nOtes#been tryna get this dude's likeness all month#the ibis paint noise layers doing wONDERS for me istg#slashers#horror#im genuinely so obsessed with this dude LMAO#leon on the froggy chair art
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Should I force myself to talk to women on hinge
#I do not want to#but I am also actively trying to overwrite unrequited attraction that is actually making me ill#so like. idk.#would that count as exposure therapy in this context?#I was introduced to the concept of limerence and I feel a lot more normal about it#not in the sense of ‘I am okay now’#but in the sense of ‘this is a shared and recognized phenomenon that acknowledges the compulsive nature of it#and suggests that it may come from a similar neurological place/process/imbalance as OCD#so instead of well meaning people who don’t grasp how overwhelming these feelings are telling me to just try to date other people#I at least have the validation of ‘you are not crazy because other people have experienced this kind of debilitating intensity too’#and the suggestions for coping with and overcoming limerence include CBT/DBT#which is a lot more structured and helpful than my friends giving me well intentioned advice for something they don’t really understand#like I cannot tell you how much relief this has brought me#I don’t just have a crush on a straight woman and can’t get over it i literally have these non stop intrusive thoughts about her#coupled with the constant mental noise of i know she isn’t interested and i need to be respectful and maintain boundaries#it has literally made me feel like I’m losing my mind or some kind of stalker#but a mental stalker#anyway it has been incredibly unpleasant and upsetting and now I’m focusing on consciously stopping and countering those thoughts#and approaching it the same way as my other intrusive thoughts#also note: I tried to make an appointment with my therapist but she is overbooked and if this does not yield change I might spiral again
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Not crying and being guilt ridden again :))))))
#tgdposts#personal#when I can’t articulate to people around me so it results in my mind confronting me#(confronting is a strong word here but I digress)#about me struggling to make any decision regarding my future#and on a lesser note being guilt ridden when I’m unable to meet with people because I’m trying to be productive but then I’m unable to be#productive and oh why weren’t we able to meet up but if I share it it just seems like I was being fucking lazy and fuck I hate this#and fuck it’s hard to talk to my dad like he’s a nice guy but I know he doesn’t really understand and sometimes it’s just hard to explain#things with the weight they have in my heart you know?#it’s so hard to explain that I’m not just procrastinating or being a jobless useless bum I don’t even know how to bring that up#and even if doc gives me ideas things to help me those are still things I need to implement myself and that too is hard to initiate#and talking about all of it just makes me feel like a guilty useless shithead#and I know it’s not true but that doesn’t make me feel it any less#from the outside of my brain it just seems like I’m making up my own problems#how do you even talk about that#anyway#I’m going to bed now I’m tired#if you read this I appreciate you for listening to me#you guys are great#<3#mental illness#I guess might as well tag it as this#rant#vent#vent post#summer is lowkey my worst season mentally lowkey which is kind of sad if you think about it
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Please do not send me asks for donations
Here's why (for if you find that statement impossible to understand):
I have NO money to give you.
I'm not popular enough that I will give you any reach.
I am a minor, and most of my followers/mutuals are too.
It makes me feel extremely guilty.
Seeing pictures of injuries or hospitals etc are triggering and/or upsetting for me. These pictures often have blood, gore, extreme medical situations, hospital environments, etc. I'm not saying I don't feel sympathy for them, I'm saying I do not want to see that.
They are always worded in a way that makes me feel like I am a murderer if I don't donate.
I said I don't want them, and my boundaries should be respected. They make me feel uncomfortable, and sometimes triggered or upset.
I can't tell what is a bot/scam and what isn't. Yes, I know most of them are not, or whatever it is you believe, but I don't have the time to do a full study of each asker.
I get a lot of spam from this. It is disappointing to see 10 new asks in my inbox just to be the same ask for donations over and over.
Please, just respect the fact that I have said this.
If you want this in your pinned post, please don't credit me. You can copy the words or take a screenshot with my username cropped out. You can reblog this but please don't go on about how awful your experiences have been. I get it, but also if you spiral two much you might end up accidentally saying something bad. This post has led to a lot of hate anons and harassment, so I would rather not have too much attention. Thanks...
I am pro Palestine and want to do everything I can to help but I'm not financially or mentally well enough to do much. I'm not in support of these people dying. Also, this post isn't just about Palestine. It's about ALL asks for donations. I'm not doing favouritism or racism. I just can't deal with it. Don't harass me for expressing boundaries. This post applies to people of all nationalities and backgrounds. Every situation- war, poverty, injury, anything. I'm not discriminating. I'm not being a zionist or a racist or an ableist. It's a boundary.
Yes, this post might seem controversial. But I did literally make this for my own personal experience and didn't expect it to get more than 12 notes or so. Don't add opposing views because quite frankly, it's none of your business. It's not my problem and I didn't mean for this post to get so many notes. Don't use the number of notes as an excuse to fight me. I just want a peaceful Tumblr experience. Also, if you are reblogging this, don't trauma dump. I keep notifications on for this post so that I can block people harassing me before shit escalates, so I can see every reblog. You can screenshot and repost if you want to talk about your problems, but honestly its no better seeing people saying "I'm bankrupt and I just got kicked out by my family. I also have a history of abuse and those images are so triggering that I want to die". That doesn't help me. Make your own post to say that. Please.
I am taking this post off private after slightly modifying it. Any conflicting arguments based on this post will result in my blocking and reporting of you. If you do not understand my point of view, make sure you fully read the post before saying this. I made this post for my blog. If you have any questions or don't understand this post, send me an ask that is composed, calm and polite, and I can talk it through with you.
Please note that by sharing this post, you are more likely to be targeted by bots and scams. You are also more likely to be harassed. Please be safe.
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so for ~research purposes~ i went and looked at the notes of posts i've saved (and also reblogged, i just like to reread/rewatch things too) that have a lot of notes, and the reblog to like ratios are insane. like i've saved one post that has almost 7k notes, but only 2k of those are reblogs. another just shy of 1k total, only 255 of them reblogs. one at 66k total, 25k reblogs.
it's a wonder anything shows up on my dash with ratios like that.
#and these aren't writing things like wip wednesday etc. where the point is to make sure those things are shared#these are like... fandom-specific jokey posts#and clips of scenes from shows#and a post about stretching lol#and i fully recognize that i am not always the best about reblogging#but nine times out of ten i like posts so i can queue them later so they eventually do get reblogged#like one of my own recent posts has 86 notes but only 12 of them are reblogs#and even when i do participate in tag games for writing it's still mostly likes and not reblogs#all i'm saying is that if you like a thing you should share it because someone else might like it too
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When I first joined Tumblr, I had no idea what I was walking into. There’s no manual for navigating this wild, untamed corner of the internet. My first moment here? I was greeted by an image completely naked, no warning, no explanation. It was just there, bold and unapologetic. That’s when I realized: Tumblr is a place where anything can happen.
But for all its chaos, Tumblr has become something far greater than I ever expected. For us Palestinians, this platform isn’t just a space to scroll through memes or vent about life. It’s a lifeline, a place where we’ve taken the raw, messy energy of this site and turned it into a battleground for survival. Here, we tell our stories, raise funds, and fight for our lives.
I’ve seen campaigns soar past their goals, bringing hope to families barely holding on. But I’ve also seen campaigns like mine, ones that fight tooth and nail for every single dollar, every reblog, every addition, and every ounce of hope. My family’s lives depend on this.
It hasn’t been easy. Zionists flood all Palestinian words with hate, twisting truths and spreading lies. They aim to discredit us, to make people doubt us. It’s exhausting. Some nights, I sit with my phone in my hands, wondering if this fight is too big for me. But then something beautiful happens: a donation comes through, a kind message appears, or someone I’ve never met reblogs my story with words that feel like a warm embrace.
And through it all, people are starting to see the truth. The hate doesn’t drown us; it sharpens our voices. Every day, more people step forward to stand with us, to say, “I see you, I hear you, and I’m with you.” It’s those moments that keep me going.
To everyone who has already helped, whether through verification, donating, wrting post , reblogging, or simply sharing a kind word: thank you. You’ve done more for my family than I could ever put into words. But the reality is, we’re not there yet. My family is still waiting for a chance to breathe, to live without fear, to fill their empty stomachs with warm food, and to wrap themselves in clothes thick enough to keep out the bitter cold. They’re hungry, they’re freezing, and I can’t do this alone.
This fight is hard, but it’s not hopeless. Strangers have become friends, and friends have become family. Some of you have shown up in ways I never imagined, treating my family’s survival as if it were your own. That kind of solidarity? It’s powerful.
Tumblr might be chaotic, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre, but it’s also the place where we’ve built something extraordinary: a community that refuses to look away from injustice. With your help, we can take this fight all the way. My family’s lives are within reach, and together, I know we’ll get there.
This campaign isn’t just about me. It supports 26 people, including two orphaned children and an injured family member suffering from hemiplegia after being hit by shrapnel during a bombing. Surgery is desperately needed to replace the infected and failing plates. The needs are urgent, and the future of 26 lives depends on your support.
The video showing the injured family member is shared before in this post: Link.
Please help us ! Donate and reblog this post to spread our story.
Vetted and shared by @90-ghost: Link.
Verified and shared by @el-shab-hussein: Link
Listed as number 282 in "The Vetted Gaza Evacuation Fundraiser Spreadsheet" compiled by @el-shab-hussein and @nabulsi : Link
Listed on the Butterfly Effect Project, number 957: Link
Additionally, Al Jazeera News has documented apart of my family's case: Link
If, for some reason, you couldn't donate via GoFundMe, you can donate via PayPal instead. Please keep the conversion rates in mind when donating through GoFundMe. Every 100 SEK is equivalent to 10 dollars, and 200 SEK equals 20 dollars and so on.
Note: There’s even a raffle for a handmade Palestinian thob if you want to participate : Link
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Where he would propose and how it happens [Genshin Men]
Warnings: haven’t written in a while please excuse and tell me about pronoun slips, I’m sleep deprived, not proofread (this will be my fixed disclaimer as a writing parent, haha)
Notes: All of these were captured by me in game. I just felt like exploring the beauty of Genshin more and this was a great way to do it while mixing it with writing. Note that you may not agree with some of these, and that's totally fine, these are my thoughts and ideas :)
Characters: Aether, Albedo, Alhaitham, Ayato, Baizhu, Cyno, Dainsleif, Diluc, Gorou, Heizou, Itto, Kaeya, Kaveh, Kazuha, Lyney, Neuvillette, Scaramouche, Tartaglia, Thoma, Tighnari, Venti, Wriothesley, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader
Aether
Aether is a simple man, and though he plans his proposal he doesn't really think much of the place, somewhere where the two of you frequent, maybe on your daily/nightly walks.
It happens just as the two of you are about to go back, this is where you sit and relax for a while as the sun sets. You can see Mondstadt in the distance and the beautiful orange sky.
As you're about to turn and walk away he catches your wrist and pulls you back into the middle of those tiny pink flowers.
Now that he thinks about it... This is where his journey really started: Starfell Lake, and how perfect would it be to start a new one with you?
"Y/N, I...want you to stay. I mean, forever," the words are simple but it gets across.
Albedo
Also a simple person. You might think Dragonspine when you think Albedo and I agree that all that snow could be romantic but I went for Starsnatch Cliff. It's a good place to see Mondstadt, and he takes you there after the sun has set.
He would probably comment about how you can see a lot of things from here, and how the world is such a great, vast place, full of things to explore and discover.
"...and yet I find myself thinking... how all that I want is right next to me. Would you do me the honour of being my lifelong partner?"
Alhaitham
Something's up and you can tell, this isn't your usual route home, and honestly you've never stopped in these parts of the city. You've passed by it sure, but never with Alhaitham.
You ask him where the two of you are going and if there are some extra errands to run before going home. He only shakes his head and ends up leading you over right next to the glowing Padisarah flower.
He HAS planned this, so why does it feel like he hasn't? Even has a ring in his pocket (granted it is the SIMPLEST ring one could ever imagine, that's just how he is)
Ends up just taking the ring box out and showing it to you while trying to speak "I..." doesn't speak much of his emotions so has a hard time, but feels pathetic afterwards so meets your eyes straight on. "...A promise... That what I feel for you... is everlasting,"
Ayato
That small shrine/garden/sitting area just outside the Kamisato Estate. It's just a bit more private than the sitting area INSIDE the estate.
You wouldn't think anything of it because you do hang out here from time to time.
Ayato might seem like a grand person but in the end he doesn't want to stray far from home.
"I'm...sorry if this is a bit abrupt," fishes out a ring box from his long sleeve. "I've been meaning to ask for a while now, will you share your life with me as my beloved?"
Baizhu
That nice little hill just outside of Bubu Pharmacy, where you can find Glaze Lilies strewn about and the night view is quite nice. It's a place the two of you go just to get some quick, fresh air if Baizhu isn't feeling too well. Changsheng is left at the pharmacy from time to time, this is one of those times.
"I've been thinking...how precious time really is," he looks at you with tenderness in his eyes, yet a lot of uncertainty shrouded in them. "I don't know where this road will lead me... but you alone are my lifelong remedy. Would you accompany me on this journey?"
Cyno
Cyno often comes here to watch the sun set, since he was a student, but he does think it's more beautiful at night.
The two of you are leaning over the railway and looking at Sumeru, just talking about the day.
Cyno doesn't really plan it. He seems to be the type to but when he feels that it's the right time, specially when he feels it strongly, there's no better time than the present.
It's while he's watching you talk enthusiastically about your day, that there's a sudden twist in his heart. This is the person I want to spend the rest of my life with.
"Y/N--" he cuts you off successfully, wonder in his eyes. "What do you say to being intertwined for life?"
Dainsleif
Anywhere where there is an unobstructed view of the stars and night sky, but particularly at the hill of Cape Oath, where the two of you lie side by side on the grass, staring up at the stars.
At this point the two of you have been travelling together for a while, looking for answers to his curse. To Dainsleif, the two of you are pretty much married already, but just to confirm it, every night, he asks "Is this the path that you choose? To bind your fate with mine?"
And every night, like a promise, you say yes.
Diluc
Diluc doesn't stray far from home too. He prefers to stay close to his memories, no matter how painful they are.
He HAS planned it, but ends up proposing at an unexpected time.
It's when he's on the road home and you're waiting right by the lamp post for him. It's late. Later than usual and here you are worrying about how it's a cold night and that he should've worn more.
It's at that moment that it hits him, "Y/N, the thought of being separated...it's not something I'd want to imagine" he grips your hand tightly. "...For the rest of my life, it's you that I want to spend it with,"
Doesn't even have the planned ring on him and apologizes about the word vomit he just did. He was just overcome with emotions right then and there.
Gorou
That small spot next to Bourou Village. Watatsumi Island is beautiful in general, but Gorou knows the good spots.
Is nervous but tries not to show it, but you can totally tell because he's way too stiff.
"Wh-What do you mean? Nothing's wrong!" When asked if everything's fine.
When standing at this spot though, his nervousness seems to go away and for a minute everything is normal until... "H-Hey, Y/N, so..." you look at him and he's fumbling with his hands, unable to meet your gaze. "Y-You, and I--We've been...You know--"
Seems to panic. He is SO uncool right now. Closes his eyes and just blurts it out when he realizes this isn't working out "With all my heart, will you marry me?!"
Heizou
Little secret garden just next to Inazuma city. Quiet place yet you can hear a bit of the hustle and bustle in the city.
Heizou is the type to get on one knee and confidently, directly say it.
He's planned it, and gets you right in the middle of the bridge (has probably asked someone to take a photo as well)
"Y/N, beloved," grins "would you unravel the mysteries of life with me?" (thinks it was such a cool line, then hands you the ring in a box)
Itto
Does not think about it nor plans it. Just happens and it happens because he talks about it casually. You can't really tell if he's serious.
He has this conversation with you in Chinjuu Forest, which is a naturally beautiful place, but he's really only there with you to look for onikabuto.
"You know, it'd be really cool if we could keep doing this huh?"
You ask what he means cause you don't really have any idea. You guys have been doing this for ages. Why would it stop now, is what you think.
"I mean, like, you know, forever," he says this while looking under a rock. "Like if we were just onikabuto fightin' partners forever, get it?"
You stall for a moment and wonder if he knows what he's saying, and you ask if he specifically means he just wants you as an onikabuto fighting partner.
"Oh, well, yea it's ONE of the things I like about you, but I like your kisses too. Hehe," scratches the back of his head then looks like he gets a bright idea. "Oh hey that's an idea! How 'bout we just become partners for life, Y/N?"
Yeah, that's how it happens.
Kaeya
Kaeya keeps it simple, but also romantic. He gets that spot above the gate of Mondstadt, where you can see Barbatos' statue from a distance. He knows how much you love the city and he has a special place in his heart for it too.
The two of you pretty much keep each other warm up there, with him behind you and his arms wrapped around your shoulders.
At some point, as the two of you have been talking for ages and when the perfect silence descends, he leans into your ear and asks you to close your eyes. When you do, you feel him slip something onto your ring finger as he says "A thousand words wouldn't be enough to tell you how I really feel...Would you want to create a thousand and more memories together instead?"
Kaveh
Kaveh thinks its only appropriate to propose at his masterpiece, but he thinks you're even more of a masterpiece than anything he's made or encountered before.
Plus the place just holds a lot of meaning and memories for him. It's beautiful too and you've always said that you're proud of him for completing it.
His is a pretty simple proposal. "I've always thought that something's been missing in my life...I think I've figured out that it's you, Y/N. It's only going to be you,"
Kazuha
Inazuma holds a lot of memories for Kazuha, some that are rather unpleasant. But home is still home and perhaps he wanted to create more good memories there.
Truth be told he could have proposed to you anywhere, and I don't think he had really planned it. It was just something heartfelt that he wanted to say as he sees you climbing up the stairs to the shrine. The sunlight hitting you perfectly and the sakura blossoms just cascading around your form. It's perfect, he thought.
You're a few steps further up from him and it makes him look up at you the slightest bit. With a shine in his eyes and a smile on his face he asks, quite sincerely "Have you ever felt like home was right next to you, Y/N?"
and before you could answer he answers his own question first. "I have, despite the storms and catastrophes I've gone through...Y/N, you're the home that my heart forever needs,"
Lyney
Lyney plans it, but doesn't do it in a grand way. He just wants it to be sincere and special. He thinks this place is cute, what with the little sort of gazebo with a small sitting space to just sit and drink tea.
He proposes to you as the two of you sit, you've never been here before and wonder why the two of you are out here, actually.
"Oh, is it strange? Haha, I just wanted a bit of a change," Rubs the back of his neck and starts to feel nervous.
You explain that you're not complaining, just curious, but you like it!
"Oh, that's a relief. I'm...Uh..." sort of fumbles with something in his coat, really funny seeing as he's a magician and is supposed to be nimble with his fingers. Recovers quite fast and manages to do his classic "flower-behind-your-ear" trick and hands it over to you.
He does the same trick, but this time takes a ring out. "Y/N, you complete me in ways words can't express...will you..." gulps before he continues "marry me?"
Neuvillette
Seems very posh but prefers to keep it simple. He thinks its more special rather than making a super grand gesture. He could of easily proposed in front of the Opera Epiclese, but instead did it at one of the small fountains in Marcotte Station.
The two of you are out on a nightly stroll and this is just where the two of you ended up.
Clears his throat before starting, takes your hand in his, but its his eyes that really do the talking. "I may not be the best in expressing my deepest thoughts and emotions...but there is one single thing that I am quite sure about," he stalls here and seems to look into your soul.
"And it's you, my love. As I take my next steps into this life I lead, I would be honoured if I take them with you by my side,"
Scaramouche
Has it on his mind but doesn't particularly plans when or where he's going to say it. Just knows that he wants to.
While out on an assignment the two of you pass by Mawtiyima Forest. You've always thought it looked like such a magical place. You request to sit on a hill for a bit before moving on.
Scaramouche, as usual, grumbles about this but relents and ends up plopping next to you as well. Truth be told he also liked this particular forest and how quiet yet vibrant it was.
No words are exchanged for a while, just the two of you looking at the view. Scaramouche sneaks a glance at you and you have that stupid, wide eyed look on your face, the glowing blue mushrooms reflecting off of your eyes.
He secretly thinks its cute.
He shows that by aggressively saying. "I don't know what you had in mind when you agreed to come with me, but you're stuck with me till the end now, got it?"
Yes. That's pretty much his proposal.
Tartaglia
Is one who would take you on a vacation off on an isolated, quaint and cute island like Petrichor with wonderful views of Fontaine's waterfalls.
Is the type to get down on one knee while this beautiful background is in sight. Totally plans it and is the cliche, basic proposal. Would totally love the townspeople to clap and cheer while this is happening too.
"Y/N, every day spent with you is a treasure, and I want it to continue for the rest of my life, will you marry me?"
Thoma
Has planned it. Makes sure you have a good time beforehand, probably at some festival and it's when the two of you are winding down, sitting on that rock with the lamp on it that he asks.
"Isn't it magical?" he asks as a starter and you ask what exactly he's talking about. "How it's always a good time and how easy life seems when I'm with you,"
You tell him that's because he always takes good care of you and he laughs heartily at that. "I'm glad to hear it," kisses your forehead and smiles down at you.
"Every day, Y/N, I just fall deeper in love with you...Do you think, maybe, we could spend our whole lives together?"
Tighnari
Plans it and is calm about it. Has everything under control. He chose Pardis Dhyai specifically for its aesthetics and specifically the inside in case it rains. (He doesn't want you to get wet as he proposes, but also doesn't want his ears and tail wet as it happens.)
Clears his throat before he starts, doesn't have a ring because he just doesn't seem the type, for him its more of a pact.
"Rather than talk about emotions alone, I'd want to highlight that you've been quite the mind-stimulating study partner," coughs into his hand "but of course, that's only one aspect of you that I like...it's safe to say that I like you enough to propose the pact of marriage...would that be alright with you?"
Venti
Where else would he think was a good place to propose? Of course he would do it here.
No roundabout way of saying it. Confident in all aspects, partly because he's a God but partly because...what has he got to lose, really?
Doesn't really propose marriage cause...he's not a mortal. Forever might be a thing for him but maybe not for you.
"It's been a while since I've felt really at ease with someone, you know?"
You jokingly say he seems to be at ease with everyone, specially after a few bottles of wine. He laughs out loud at that, and remarks back that no one can make him laugh the way you do.
"It's blossomed into something more beautiful than I thought it would be, Y/N. You, me, and us. Can we stay like this till the end?"
Wriothesley
Has planned it and has stuck to his plan. At a little vacation home at the Southeast of the Beryl Region. The two of you spent a few days relaxing there, under the guise that Wriothesley needed a break.
On the last day he surprised you by revealing that he had asked your family and friends, both from faraway regions and nearby towns to come and celebrate with the two of you.
Celebrate what, you ask.
That's when he gets down on one knee and pops the question "You know, I could still be mistaken," he grins at this but is clearly joking. "but I don't think I am and seeing as you've put up with me, Y/N, I think it's safe to say you're my forever person,"
It was days after when you realize how confident he is of this whole thing when you think about the fact that he had pre planned to invite all your friends and family over to "celebrate"
Xiao
Also a person who doesn't stray far from home. The rooftop of Wangshu Inn is actually quite romantic on quiet nights, with a view of Liyue and a gentle breeze.
To Xiao, marriage isn't really about a ring and signing papers. It's a contract and a promise to each other.
On one of the nights, he just thinks it's the right time to say it.
He's more quiet than usual and you ask if something's wrong.
He pauses for a while before answering. "...Apologies, there's a lot on my mind..."
Xiao has become a lot more open with you through the years.
"...I... just wanted to propose the prospect of being...binded together," you ask what that means cause you're not really familiar, you end up asking if that's the same as marriage.
"M-Marriage? Uh... Yes... I suppose that's what mortals call it... but being binded together is more..." stops talking and gets red in the face. "Let's... just leave it at that,"
I like to think that the process of binding is just that your souls are entwined together...So when one of you passes, you still remember them in your next life, type of thing. Cause if you're a mortal, chances are, you'll die earlier than Xiao. Anyhow, that's a completely different story.
Zhongli
Zhongli prefers the quiet and the nature. This is probably part of your occasional stroll when the two of you need some quiet time.
Zhongli, with how long he has lived, also doesn't see marriage as the normal get-down-on-one-knee-with-a-ring-thing, but for him, it's a contract. It's more binding than anything in the world.
"Y/N, we've walked this path countless of times before," he starts as the two of you continue to stroll. You reply saying that you like this particular area where the bamboos are.
"Is that so?" suddenly stops and looks at you. "In that case, would you care to listen to a proposal I have?"
Clears his throat when you give the approval. "As I've said, we've walked this path countless of times before..." he takes your hand in his "but for me, who has lived longer than you, I've traversed this path for even more times," he closes his eyes. "Yet, with you by my side, this path changes. It transforms into something resplendent. As if...every time had been the first time I've walked through it. It is with you, Y/N, that I discover life anew, despite the thousands of years I've lived. Would you consider forming a contract of lifelong partnership with me, and only me?"
End
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Masterlist
#genshin impact#genshin fluff#zhongli x reader#diluc x reader#kaeya x reader#childe x reader#albedo x reader#alhaitham x reader#ayato x reader#itto x reader#scaramouche x reader#alhaitham fluff#scaramouche fluff#xiao x reader#wriothesley x reader#baizhu x reader#baizhu fluff#wriothesley fluff#tartaglia x reader#lyney x reader#neuvillette x reader#dainsleif x reader#kaveh x reader#dainsleif fluff#diluc fluff#lyney fluff#neuvilette fluff
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The Collection
Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader
Warnings: N/A
Summary: You keep every single puck that Quinn has ever given you, he finds your collection that you've been shyly hiding away. It might just be the thing that makes him realise you're the girl he's going to marry.
Notes: I just want a boyfriend who'll give me a puck from every one of his games, is that too much to ask?
Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)
Writing Masterlist
It starts quite simply enough with an ice hockey game, like most things did with Quinn Hughes. The two of you had known each other for a while, acquaintances through Kiefer, acquaintances who then had become somewhat friends, but by no means were you close. That had changed one afternoon when Quinn had asked if you'd come to watch him play, not watch the team, not watch Kiefer, but watch him. This had seemed quite the clear hint that he was interested, or at least Quinn had considered this a neon flashing sign telling you he was interested. He considered this him shooting his shot.
It later transpired that Quinn considered this your first date, despite the fact he was on the ice and you were beside the penalty box, and that he'd not mentioned once the word date to you, but that's a story for another time.
The important part of this first-date-that-didn't-seem-like-a-first-date was not just that it set in motion your changing relationship status from somewhat friends to boyfriend and girlfriend, but that it was the first time Quinn Hughes ever gave you a puck. Something which to many would seem inconsequential. People got hockey pucks every day, every game. Thousands of fans owned pucks from hockey games, in that sense you were not particularly special.
It had felt so silly, and so girlish at the time, to be excited over an ice hockey puck of all things just because Quinn had tipped it over the glass to you specifically. And it had been for you, the glare he'd sent to those around you who even looked like they might snatch it had been lethal. It had felt even sillier to take that puck, cradle it the entire game, squirrel it all the way home only to write the date and a simple sentence on it in metallic gold pen, 'Quinn asked me to his game'. You're not entirely sure what had possessed you to do it, why it felt like something you needed to record. It had felt so...silly to do but you'd been unable to resist.
You'd squirrelled the puck away in a box in the back of your closet, out of sight of prying eyes, but it hadn't been forgotten by you. In fact, it was seen every single time you went to one of Quinn's games. After each game you'd inevitably come back with a new puck, another one to add to the collection of pucks that you were growing. At first the number was relatively slow to grow, you didn't go to every game, not during the weird stage where Quinn had yet to outright ask you out and you, oblivious as ever didn't realise he'd been trying for weeks.
As Quinn and you began officially dating you found yourself constantly receiving pucks, every game you went to he had a puck for you and at the end of the night you'd write the date and a simple sentence on it of something that had happened that night, something significant in your relationship or simply something significant to you even if it didn't seem significant to anyone else.
Still, the box remained hidden in the back of your closet, something you almost felt too shy to share. Even now that Quinn and you were in a relationship, even now 2 years down the line when he'd asked you to move in with him once your lease was up, it still felt scary to share it. Realistically you knew Quinn wouldn't be put off by it, the sort of sentimental person he was, he'd likely love it. That didn't stop the irrational fear. Especially given how personal some of the pucks were to you. It just felt embarrassing like showing him your blog from when you were thirteen or sharing a sketchbook from when you were twelve.
Moving apartments had been as simple as moving apartments could get, which is to say not simple in the slightest. Moving your things into Quinn's place had felt a little like playing Tetris, trying to find spaces for all your books and knickknacks without completely taking over his space. Trying to find a balance between his things and yours. In that chaos you'd managed to sneak your box of pucks in and to the back of your section of closet, a, in your opinion, perfect hiding spot.
It was not in fact a perfect hiding spot. Perhaps you were naive to think that Quinn wouldn't ever find them even when you shared such close quarters? Or perhaps you'd simply been avoiding the reality, trying to forget about it except in those few moments when you got home from a game before him and rushed to write on your puck and throw it into the box along with its brethren.
Either way, whether naivety or a desire to avoid the issue, it didn't stop you from finding him in that moment sat on the floor of your shared bedroom, looking incredibly cozy in a big hoodie and sweatpants, but pawing through your box that lay in front of him. The cardboard worn and battered from years of use.
"What are doing?" You knew exactly what he was doing, you could see two years worth of pucks piled high in front of him, one currently being turned over in his hands, but the panic seemingly made your brain stop working. Processing the scene felt impossible, you could see what was happening but couldn't quite comprehend it. Quinn was careful with the pucks, almost reverent as he put the one he was currently holding off to the side and reached for another, reading whatever you'd written on it.
"You kept them?" Quinn's voice is quiet, soft, an almost whisper that has you stepping further into the room even as you twist your fingers together nervous of his reaction.
"How...how did you find them?" Perhaps it was silly to think you could keep them hidden, after all you couldn't exactly claim you'd hidden them in some elaborate or overly complicated fashion. They were simply in a ratty old cardboard box in the very back of your half of the closet. It's not like you'd hidden them in some secret compartment.
"I was looking for my ugly Christmas jumper for the party on Sunday...didn't realise you'd kept them all. Why'd you hide them?" He smiles up and over at you from his spot, looking boyish and sweet even as you internally panic about the discovery he's made.
"I...I just...it's embarrassing." You shuffle nearer even as you say it, seeking his reassurance without quite truly realising it. When you're within reach of him, Quinn tugs on your hand to pull you closer from his position on the floor, cross legged and leaning back against the side of the bed.
"Baby, it's not embarrassing, it's sweet...you kept every puck I've ever given you. That's...I love that. C'mere." He tugs you down to the ground, until you're sitting side by the side with him and he can wrap an arm around you. He's warm and smells like the laundry detergent you use, it's calming, reassuring even as you still feel that rush of embarrassment at being found out.
Quinn reaches for a puck he'd put off to the side, it's worn and tarnished, dents from being hit across the ice during warm ups marring it, the logos of Seattle and Vancouver hidden underneath your writing in gold metallic pen.
"See, look, this is the puck I gave you on the day we had our first kiss." You'd written across the front 'Quinn kissed me today!!!!!!!!!' followed by more exclamation marks than was reasonable for anyone to use. You could remember the game clearly, Quinn had asked you to come along, you'd still not quite realised that he was trying to date you and your obliviousness had set a fire underneath him. He'd been so fed up that he'd forgotten what subtlety was. After a hard fought win, he'd rushed towards you in the corridor by the locker room and kissed you in front of half his teammates, all of whom had decided that was a great time to cheer and whistle like they were at a football game. You'd been surprised by it, taken aback, needing a few moments to process before returning the kiss, but you hadn't been unhappy with the sudden turn of events that had you practically unable to form words afterwards.
Quinn's careful as he puts it back before reaching for another puck, rooting around in the box before he pulls out one with the Canuck's orca emblazoned across it. Quinn takes a moment to read it before practically beaming over at you, eyes bright and excited.
"This one is from the game where I took you on the ice after and taught you how to skate," The puck had a creative attempt at drawing yourself and Quinn in ice skates, stick figure form of course, 'Quinn tried to teach me to skate after the game.'
"You mean you tried to teach me how to skate...last I remember I'm still not great..." You tap a nail against the 'tried' in your handwriting and Quinn just grins at you, any lasting embarrassment has started to disappear, and instead you're left with a sense of warmth. That you have all these memories to look back on, moments you might have forgotten about otherwise.
"You're just a work in progress, baby, you can stay upright...most of the time..." You shake your head at him, rolling your eyes as he teases you. It was a well known fact that you were nowhere near as graceful as Quinn was on the ice, having never really ice skated as a child.
You reach into the pile and pick another puck out, a pride night one, reading the caption quickly and very much deciding that this is one Quinn doesn't need to see, "Oh, not, you're not reading this one!"
"Give it here!" You reach away from him, arm as straight as you can get it to hold the puck as far from him as possible. Naturally, it does very little, Quinn and his long arms simply lean over you and pluck the puck from your grip with ridiculous ease.
You groan, pressing your face into his shoulder to hide away from whatever judgement might pass across his face as he reads off the puck, one of the early ones, from before you even realised he wanted you. From the days when you were pining, crushing hard on a man you thought you'd never have.
"Quinn smiled at me during warm ups'...Oh, baby, that's cute," Quinn grasps the nape of your neck in his hand, pulling until you turn to look at him, your cheek still smushed against his shoulder.
"We weren't dating then...and you were always so locked in..." You try to justify it, that back then his smiles were rarer, he was always so focused on the game that a smile was special, that any little interaction felt special because he wasn't yours yet, but it doesn't stop you feeling silly and embarrassed that you'd felt a smile during warm ups was important enough to put on a puck. At the time it had felt like the only thing that mattered, that Quinn had smiled at you, that his focus had been on you.
"I always have a smile for you...even back then, I was always excited when you agreed to come to a game...it made me want to play ten times harder, baby, still does." Quinn can't remember a time when he wasn't excited to see you at a game, to know you were there to support him, even in the early days. If anything the early days were even more exciting, simple because it didn't feel like a given that you'd be there. You weren't his girlfriend back then, you didn't have to be there, he couldn't complain if you weren't. So seeing you had always felt like he'd won a prize because you'd given up your time to watch him play in a freezing cold arena even knowing you'd barely get to talk to him.
"They're silly..." You gesture to the array of pucks, the number feeling ridiculous. How had you managed to collect over 100 pucks? Why had you decided to keep them all?
You stop your self-doubt and wallowing at the feeling of Quinn pressing a kiss to your hair, tugging you into his lap until you're as close as he can get you. Quinn is gentle when he runs his palm from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine and back again, a soothing rhythm that makes you feel more confident when you look him in the eye.
"They're sweet...this is our entire story in pucks, can't get better than that..." The way he smiles at you is so soft and sweet that you wonder why you were ever scared of him finding them, "Don't stop doing it, baby...Promise me."
"I'll run out of space in my box though..." You look down at the almost full, falling apart cardboard box from one of your deliveries 2 years prior, the corners starting to tear, the free space inside almost non-existent.
"Then I'll get you a bigger box. I want to be 90 years old and have a thousand pucks in a giant box, each with something you thought was special enough to write on it... even if it is..." He picks up a puck squinting at it, "'I made Quinn laugh.' or," Quinn finds another from the pile, "'Quinn said my hair looked pretty', although maybe I need to be setting the bar higher, baby" He teases you, flipping the puck between his fingers with ease.
"I was pining after you, okay, and I wasn't sure you liked me back then!"
"Yeah, I forget, me asking you to come watch me play wasn't clear enough!" Quinn has been adamant for years that it was obvious he was asking you on a date, that you were just oblivious. He was, of course, wrong. Asking someone to come watch them play hockey was not in any way an obvious invite to a date and you refused to take responsibility for the earlier miscommunication which was clearly all his fault.
"It's not clear at all, honey! People ask people to watch them play all the time, it doesn't make it a date!"
"It was so a date!" a date in which you spent near 3 hours in the freezing cold and barely spoke to Quinn...definitely what a date is supposed to be. No wonder he was single for so long when you met him.
"Honestly, I'm starting to think you're lucky I liked you enough to put up with you..."
"...I am lucky...I'm lucky you gave me a chance and that you liked me enough to keep all these pucks and I'm lucky you agreed to move in with me even if you hide pucks in the closet like some weirdo." Quinn grips your hips, squeezing gently, smiling up at you sweetly even as he calls you a weirdo like he's not the one who thought watching him play hockey would be a good first date idea.
"You'll be lucky to sleep in the bed tonight if you keep that up,"
"You'd kick me out of our bed, baby? Really?" Quinn pouts at you as you grin down at him from your perch on his lap, arms wrapping over his shoulders and crossing behind his neck.
"...I'm joking, I can't sleep without your snores." If you could call his barely there noises snores, the lightest of snores, the sort of snores that were almost perfectly rhythmic rather than annoyingly inconsistent. Before Quinn you'd been adamant you couldn't date someone who snored, that it would make it too hard to sleep, now? Now, you genuinely missed them when he was gone. The noise a comforting backing track.
"You should put that on the next puck, 'I can't sleep without Quinn's snores in my ear and his manly arms around me'."
"'Manly arms'?" You pull back from him slightly, brows raised in question and an amused twist to your lips.
"You don't think my arms are manly, baby?" You laugh as Quinn raises one arm, flexing his bicep. You can't even see his muscles underneath his baggy hoodie, too well hidden within his cocoon of comfy cotton and polyester.
"I think you're ridiculous...." You shake your head at him, settling back in against him as he peers down at you with eyes that can only be described as loving, soft around the edges and almost hazy.
"Well, I think I'm in love with you."
You sigh happily as you reach for the box of pucks just behind you. You find a puck you know from sight alone, plucking it from the box and handing it to Quinn in response. You watch him read it, the way his smile turns to a full grin that beams at you like you've given him the moon. When in reality its just a ratty puck that says, 'I think I'm in love with Quinn Hughes'.
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NOT A CHILL GIRL.
pairings: lewis hamilton x chronically online fiancée!yn
faceclaim: jordana brewster
summary: chronically online, funniest on the grid, and the proud owner of a face card that never declines—at least, according to yourself. your fiancé might raise an eyebrow at the first claim, the world might debate the second, but no one’s arguing with the third.
warnings: just jokes. don’t take any of this seriously.
author’s note: hope u enjoy bunny anon! :D
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liked by lewishamilton, yourinstagram and 187,938 others.
ham1ltonshaderoom: celebrity stylist, and fiancée of f1 legend lewis hamilton, yn yln took to instagram stories to share some concerning posts. what do we think about these captions, ham1ltons?
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yourinstagram MAMA I MADE IT
— user1 yn you have dressed some of the top celebrities and this is what you’re excited over??
— user2 forget that. she’s fucking LEWIS HAMILTON!!! and this is what she’s excited over???
user3 this is a v tame post for yn LMFAO
— user4 like she’s posted worse 😭
user5 she’s so unserious i’m obsessed
— user6 my fav wag
user7 i love the fact she’s dressing zendaya, showing up to her hot fiancé’s races and still finds time to shitpost
— user8 she’s so me
user9 she should be embarrassed. she’s grown
— user10 she will never see this btw
user11 i need to know lewis’ thoughts on these posts
user12 she’s the moment. i want to be her so bad.
— user13 successful in her own right AND secured the bag. #needtoBEthat
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INSTAGRAM LIVE
yn i’m using lewis’ ninja creami to make slushies and sydney isn’t picking up her phone because she’s on set. so entertain me, my little gladiators.
user1 what flavour slushie are you making and why is it pure tequila
yn no. it’s a margarita mix. mostly anyways. all about balance babes.
user2 worst red carpet outfit request you’ve ever gotten?
yn girl some actor asked me to dress him up in head to toe camo… i wanted to be sick.
user3 yn, when’s the wedding? lewis is literally ready to propose again.
yn not until jungkook confirms he’s off the market. i need to know i’m not leaving options on the table.
user4 did you see lando’s post underneath your birthday post to lewis.
yn i did and i’m angry. how dare he be funnier than me on my own shitpost.
user5 who’s better at gift-giving, you or lewis?
yn me. obviously. lewis once got me a pen because “it looked sleek.” it was a nice pen, but still a pen.
user6 yn, if you could style anyone in history, who would it be?
yn harry styles but in 2012. imagine the chaos if he let me near those blazers.
user7 how did you guys meet?
yn via a mutual friend at a party. i thought his choice of shoes was disastrous and he thought i was funny. so obviously i went home with him that night. then i fell in love or whatever.
user8 you are literally the blueprint for chaotic but lovable. never change.
yn never will, little gladiator. never will.
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liked by yourinstagram, thirstystan1 and 1,098,125 others.
lewishamilton: sunday best, thank you theststyle
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yourinstagram why won’t this damn app swipe RIGHT?!?!?
— lewishamilton wrong app sweetheart
— yourinstagram oh shit 😓 can you show me how to download the right one? ever since ashley madison shut down and farmersonly.com banned me for “unsolicited flirting,” it’s been tough out here.
— lewishamilton maybe try clownsonly.com—heard they’re taking new members.
— yourinstagram wow. this from the guy who once googled “how to impress a bad bitch” and got caught.
— lewishamilton a bad bitch was impressed, wasn’t she? checkmate.
— yourinstagram yeah, well, don’t get used to it. also, happy valentine’s, loser. 💖
— lewishamilton happy valentine’s, clown. ❤️
— user1 y’all are some weirdos 😭🩷
user2 YN GIVE HIM TO MEEEEEE
user3 #NEEDTHAT
— yourinstagram #TOOBAD
— user3 YN PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭😭
user4 need this relationship NOW
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— all works taglist: @luvsforme @yelenasloverrrrr @donttouchthegnote @chelle1306 @bloodyymaryy @km-23mr @stinkyjax @f1kenzzz @ctrlyomomma @aliciaablueprint @theblueblub @namgification @tallrock35 @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @ariellovelynn @shhhchriss @lifeless-firefly @xylinasdiary @evie-119 @itseightbeats @landososcar @velentine @m1892 @blushmimi @evans-dejong @nixisracing @lethalvenus @sainzluvrr @santanasaintmendes @idontknowlmaoo @sainzluvrr @tetetoni @ssprayberrythings @heavy-vettel @tashisgf @daniskywalkersolo @c-losur3 @lestappenslover @linoscrly (see yourself tagged when you don’t wanna be? or you want to be and don’t see yourself? send me an ask!)
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#jayde’s works ☆#formula one x reader#f1 x reader#formula 1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 texts#f1 fanfic#formula one x female reader#lewis hamilton social media au#lewis hamilton x you#lewis hamilton x reader#lewis hamilton smau#lh44 smau#lh44 x reader#lh44 imagine#lewis hamilton fanfic#f1 x you#f1 fic#f1 smau
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🥊 older brother!soonyoung vs. boyfriend!jihoon.
@choco-scoups -> "what do we think about brother's best friend jihoon, but your brother is soonyoung"
ⓘ cussing, good-natured sibling bickering, suggestive joke. headcanons under the cut.
🥊 jihoon's notes on surviving the kwon siblings .ᐟ
The Kwon siblings are sulky as hell. Jihoon had thought that Soonyoung was the king of brooding, but then he met you. If he weren't dating you, he might even be impressed. As it is, though, he can only focus on managing the two of you's moods. Sure, Jihoon is a little biased. He thinks you're cute when you get all pouty; it makes him want to pinch your cheeks and hold you until that frown is gone from your face. When it's Soonyoung, though, he's a lot more exasperated. "You're a grown man, Soon. Get over it," he might grouse— right before turning to a sullen you and asking if you want a kiss.
The Kwon siblings bicker. A lot. Jihoon doesn't have any brothers or sisters of his own, so he spent quite a bit of time worrying if the two of you were normal. He quickly learned that most siblings tend to butt heads, though you and Soonyoung tended to be a little more... over the top than the average pair. One too many times, Jihoon has been caught in between the two of you's screaming matches. His three-step plan to coming out unscathed is to 1) not take sides, 2) only step in if/when physical altercation occurs, and 3) try not to insult either of you. Even if he is inclined to believe that you're right, more often than not.
The Kwon siblings can be clingy. Before he was your boyfriend, Jihoon was Soonyoung's best friend. And so Jihoon had grown used to Soonyoung's insistences for meals out, Soonyoung's need to be responded to lest he thinks it's the end of the world. When it turned out that you were more or less similar, Jihoon could only shake his head and sigh to himself. He should have known what he was getting into. Really, Jihoon has the patience of a saint in balancing your overthinking and Soonyoung's peskiness. It's a whole love language, and Jihoon is fluent.
Soonyoung loves you. It's not something he says often. Call it the tendency of brothers to brush off emotion or downplay their own sentiments. But Soonyoung loves you in a ride-or-die kind of way, in an if-anything-happens-to-you-I-don't-know-what-I'd-do kind of way. Jihoon knows this. He knows it well. When you and Jihoon had started dating, Soonyoung had been fully supportive. He made a couple of 'jabs' here and there— "If you break their heart, I'll never forgive you!"— but Jihoon knew from the look in his best friend's eye, the set in Soonyoung's jaw, that it wasn't that much of a joke. Jihoon knows that Soonyoung trusting him with you is no small thing. He makes sure not to take it for granted.
You love Jihoon. You love Soonyoung. You would never— not in a million lifetimes— choose Jihoon over Soonyoung. Even though you've threatened bodily harm on Soonyoung more times than can be counted; even though Jihoon is everything that you could want and more. Blood runs thicker than water. Jihoon knows that, too. That's why he never makes you choose. He's content to share the spot of 'favorite person' with your brother, the same way that there's no one else in the world that he trusts more than you two.
+ When the three of you are able to get it together long enough to go somewhere without gauging each other's eyes out, it's those moments that Jihoon secretly adores the most. He sometimes falls quiet, letting you and Kwon fill the conversation at the table, and he thinks of the time you forced him to watch that one Disney movie. Looks like the princess was right; Jihoon is spoken for. Everyone he's ever loved is here, within these walls, at this table, and he couldn't be more happy about it.
✉︎ jayyy! i know you said i could "keep this for a while," but when the req features two people on my bias line.. well! (ᗒᗨᗕ)
› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao
#jihoon smau#jihoon imagines#jihoon x reader#woozi smau#woozi imagines#woozi x reader#soonyoung smau#soonyoung imagines#hoshi smau#hoshi imagines#svt x reader#seventeen x reader#svt imagines#seventeen imagines#── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine#── ᵎᵎ ✦ reqs#[ whenever i do brother x bf smaus i always go kinda insane over what to tag LOL ]#[ also: i got this req and couldn't stop giggling ab it days after ]#[ so i just had to. god ily soonhoon ]#[ ALSO: i miss writing ab woozi :( ahuhuhu ]
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john green quit tumblr because of the cock monologue
No, he didn’t.
This all happened a long time ago, and my memory is imperfect, but here’s my memory: The cock monologue certainly hurt my feelings! But when people are trying to force someone out of a virtual space, they sometimes resort to behavior that is similar to bullying except it’s not completely identical to bullying because the person they’re making fun of has a lot of power. (As someone who got bullied a lot in school, the feeling was similar in 2014 but it wasn’t identical--because I was aware of the fact that I was okay, that what was in danger was certain aspects of my identity/self-value that I treasured but not my entire personhood itself.)
Anyway, it hurt my feelings, and still hurts my feelings when I see it shared (it feels to me like a joke about my sexuality, although I understand other people don’t see it that way; but yeah, you don’t know much about my sexuality and I don’t really want you to but it feels like a joke about that to me, which just bums me out).
But all of that stuff is a side effect of my job and having been successful at it, and I like my job. It is a great job. All jobs have aspects that suck. My job has fewer such aspects than other jobs I’ve had.
So yeah, I did not quit tumblr because of the cock monologue. (I also did not ask tumblr to make reblogs un-editable.) .
I quit tumblr because a few people started to make extremely specific threats. One might, for instance, send me an ask that featured a google streetview screenshot of my home alongside a plan for breaking into it.
I was super scared of these people (or possible person pretending to be a few people?) because they seemed to have a lot of knowledge about me and my family. We lived in a normal middle-class neighborhood in Indianapolis and I felt very exposed and nervous all the time in my real life, and eventually the freaked-out feeling just got too big and that’s why I quit tumblr.
(Edited to add: I am aware that prominent people sometimes use death threats against them to portray themselves as victims and protect themselves against justified criticism for their bigotry or abusive behavior or whatever. I don’t want to do that; it’s important to note that I have a lot of resources and power and so was able to, for instance, move to decrease the threat, which a lot of people can’t do. But I also feel like not talking about the experience honestly has not really helped me or anyone.)
I SHOULD’VE quit tumblr much earlier--I needed to realize that people weren’t comfortable with me in their virtual spaces and that to them I came across as cringey or even creepy, but at the time, I wasn’t nearly self-aware enough to leave for any of those reasons, and plus there was a lot of pressure from movie studios etc to stay on the social Internet so I could continue to promote my books and the stuff around them. So I didn’t quit when I should’ve, and as a result had and caused quite a few negative experiences for people. I’m sorry about the role I had in causing those negative experiences. I should’ve had a better understanding of not just how I experienced myself but also how other people might experience me. That’s something i’ve worked on over the years but still come up short on sometimes.
At any rate, I might delete this later because it makes me feel a bit like all my nerves are exposed to the air but I did just want to clarify that the, like, Tumblr Legend of this whole thing is at minimum a bit over simplified.
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Two Babies (dad!Rafe Cameron x fem!reader)
Word Count: 5.4k
Warnings: angst, mentions of smut, pregnancy
Summary: Y/N is pregnant again before she’s ready.
Author's Note: Hello! Please enjoy my first Rafe one shot. I would love to expand on this couple so if you have any requests or any blurbs you'd like me to explore, please send me a message! As always, likes and reblogs are much appreciated - it helps more than you know. Happy reading :)
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite tiny human,” the pediatrician chimed as she kicked the door to the small examination room shut with her sneaker.
“You must say that to all of the parents that you see,” Y/N blushed, unable to hide the smile that tugged on the corners of her lips.
“I do, but this is one of the rare times when I actually mean it. Those blonde curls! Are you freakin' kidding me?”
She padded over to the miniature exam table to get a better look at the infant that was lying contently on her back and chewing on her pudgy albeit still tiny fingers.
“Let’s take a look at how you’re doing, sweet pea.”
The doctor, Melanie, lifted the stethoscope that was looped around her neck and placed it into her ears. Listening to the baby’s heartbeat to check for any abnormalities, she couldn’t help but give a sympathetic frown when the tiny girl under her tensed up from the cool touch of the metal.
“Nurse’s notes say she’s put on quite a bit. She’s finally caught up to her age group in weight. I’m assuming breastfeeding is going better for you both now?”
Melanie lovingly squeezed the extra chub around the baby girl's thighs.
“Yeah. We don’t really use bottles anymore. Finally got her to latch on and now it seems like all she wants to do it eat,” Y/N chuckled.
“Good! That’s good. There’s nothing wrong with formula like we talked about, so don't overexert yourself if becomes too demanding. Breastfeeding is cheaper though," Melanie chucked, though in her head she was kicking herself. As if this family is in any need to save money. "Is she hitting the milestones? Rolling over? Propping her head up? Babbling a bit?” she continued.
“Babbling, definitely. She keeps us up sometimes because we can hear her talking to herself through the monitor at night,” Y/N poked her tongue out at her daughter in an attempt to get her to smile.
“Having a bit of trouble propping herself up though. She can only do it for a little bit and then she’ll give up. She’s got Rafe's big head, so I’m sure it’s a bit of a struggle.”
Melanie laughed loudly at the mention of her patient’s father, admiring Y/N's wittiness even in the absence of her husband. Given the reputation of the Cameron family, others might think the couple were all work and no play, but Melanie had the privilege of getting to know them behind closed doors. While they took doctor's visits seriously, always paying close attention to what the doctors and nurses had to say regarding the health of their firstborn, her experience with the Cameron's changed her outlook completely. Y/N and Rafe were warm, welcoming, and quite funny sometimes - always making jests at each other or sharing little tid-bits of what their life is like at home. She wished everyone could see them this way. Melanie really wasn't lying when she doted on the little girl, they were the best.
“She’ll get to it eventually. All babies are different. She seems to be coming along quite nicely, though. Nothing abnormal or anything to fuss about. A perfectly healthy six-month-old in my book.”
Y/N sighed in relief, though she knew there was nothing to worry over to begin with.
“How’s mum doing? You taking care of yourself, too? You’re just as important as baby.”
“When I can. Rafe's really good with her. He’ll take over when he sees me struggling, but it seems like she only wants me these days. Think I might be coming down with something, though. I’ve been feeling awful for a few weeks. Like I got hit by a train. I keep reminding myself to go get checked out, but I always get distracted taking care of her,” Y/N gestured to her daughter that was now drooling onto the parchment liner and staring up at the ceiling as if there was something ornately interesting about the popcorn texture that had been stippled onto it.
“When you say, ‘hit by a train,’ what do you mean? I can examine you here if you’d like. As long as it’s nothing serious, I can send you something off to the pharmacy.”
Melanie re-fastened the snaps on the infant’s onesie, making sure not to pinch her chunky legs and placed her back into her mother’s lap.
“Ummm,” Y/N began, “Just extra drained, I guess? Kinda nauseous. I’ve been getting migraines a lot and even when I do get a good night’s rest, I still feel like I could go back to bed for the rest of the day. Maybe I’m just exhausted, I don’t really know. But it just feels a bit different than being worn out like I have been before.”
She could see the wheels in Melanie's head turning, noting each of her symptoms and trying to align them in a path that would lead her to the root of the problem.
“Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal?”
Y/N nodded, rubbing her fingers absentmindedly along the bridge of her daughter’s socked foot.
“Have you and Rafe been intimate since she was born?”
She was taken aback by the question, not understanding where Melanie was going with this or why it was relevant.
“Umm,” Y/N stuttered, feeling a static-y surge of embarrassment travel up her neck and onto the sides of her face, “Yeah. We have.”
A whole fucking lot ever since I’ve been cleared for it, Y/N thought, but kept to herself.
“And can you tell me when your last menstrual cycle ended?”
Then it clicked. She genuinely couldn’t recall her most recent period and even the thought of what Melanie was alluding to made her stomach twist into thousands of tiny knots.
“I- I don’t know. I’ve been so busy with her I don’t even really think about what’s going on with me half of the time.”
Y/N tried to make excuses, anything to avoid the obvious, but judging from the quizzical look on her daughter’s pediatrician’s face, she knew exactly where this was going.
“There’s no way,” she whispered, “I can’t be.”
Melanie's face dropped, now tender and apologetic when she realized that this was news Y/N was not ecstatic to hear.
“I know I’m a pediatrician, so that’s obviously the first thing my mind goes to, but can we at least get you to take a blood test? That way we’ll know for sure?”
//
Rafe came home to a quiet house. It wasn’t unusual, but seeing as it was well after six o’clock in the evening and his wife wasn’t in the kitchen making the pasta dish she'd been dying for all week was. Their grocery store had been out of her favorite canned tomatoes for over a week and she’d nearly tackled Rafe to the ground out of excitement when he’d come home from the grocery store with them the night before. Had he not seen her car in the driveway, he probably wouldn’t have even suspected her to be home.
He checked the living room first, and it was desolate apart from the baby pink, quilted playmat on the floor that was littered with a few of his daughter’s favorite rattles and teethers. Y/N's coat and purse were abandoned haphazardly on the couch, almost as if she tossed it aside in a hurry to get somewhere.
“Baby?” Rafe called out.
Nothing.
His head peaked into the nursery, stealthily and quietly in preparation to walk in on his daughter taking her scheduled nap before her actual bedtime. He’d gotten good at hushing his footfalls to almost complete silence as to not wake her, having made that mistake more than a handful of times.
And he was right. There she was, sprawled out in her crib with her arms outstretched over her head like a tiny starfish. Her chubby cheeks were smushed against her bicep, drawing her lips open the tiniest bit so that Rafe could see the tops of her fleshy, pink gums and the barely-there nub of her first tooth peeking through. More than anything, he wanted to wake her up - lift her from the plush mattress and cuddle her close, shower her with kisses and tickle her with his scruff to hear those baby squeals he adored so much, but he needed to find Y/N first.
She had to be in their bedroom, he thought to himself. Maybe she was taking advantage of their baby girl napping to also get some rest. She had been rather exhausted lately. Maybe she’d had a rough day and was relaxing in the clawfoot, porcelain bathtub that had been the selling point of the home they now lived in. The houses on Figure Eight were lavish, but not all of the bathtubs were - at least that's what Y/N told Rafe. Who was he to question his bride?
Turns out he was right again. Like he had done with the nursery, he held the metal doorknob tightly in his grip to keep the hinges from creeking and pressed it open gently. The room was completely dark, but he could make out the lump underneath the duvet on their king-sized bed as his wife.
Good. She was sleeping.
He padded across the hardwood floor, still being as quiet as he could until he crossed the threshold of the bathroom. There, he rid himself of the uncomfortable clothes he’d been wearing all day. Curse these professional business meetings that forced him to dress nicely.
All throughout the meetings, he wanted nothing more than to be home with his wife and baby, cuddling the afternoon away and watching shitty reality television while his daughter cooed and grunted and gurgled in her baby voice that he loved so much and could listen to all day. He wasn't always this way - he used to love this shit, but something inside him changed indefinitely when his daughter was born. Rafe was a softy now and he wasn't afraid to admit it. Maybe it was the fact that he’d been having to partake in these boring work meetings a lot more lately, which caused him to miss even the smallest aspects of his everyday life like changing diapers or checking the baby monitor eight hundred times throughout the day to make sure his daughter was still breathing. Perhaps he’d just been getting sentimental because she was growing so much these days, but it was an unpleasant feeling nonetheless.
His thoughts were interrupted when he deposited his heavy watch into the dish he kept on the counter and he heard a quiet yet still prominent sniffle among the clattering of metal against the glass dish.
“Baby? You awake?” Rafe peaked his head out from beyond the bathroom door.
He saw her body shift under the covers, but she gave no response. So he called out again.
“You sick or something? Can hear you sniffling."
Nothing.
Pivoting back around to the inside of the bathroom, he quickly shut off the light and carried himself over to her side of the bed where he could see her properly. Her face was tucked into her chin and all that was visible to him was the top of her head.
“Hey,” Rafe cooed, petting what he could reach of her hair and speaking even gentler than he had been, “What’s wrong?”
And that’s when he heard it - an almost inaudible choking sound of Y/N trying to catch her breath that immediately let him know she wasn’t sick. She had been crying.
“Whoa, baby,” he was already pulling the covers back with force, honestly not caring whether or not she minded the intrusion.
“Tell me what’s going on.”
She was emotionless when he saw what little he could her face, her puffy, bloodshot eyes and swollen lips illuminated by the hallway light being the only indicator that she was upset. She didn’t even react to Rafe tugging her head out from where it had been buried in the covers, simply rolling onto her back to stare idly at the ceiling.
“Y/N,” he called for his wife again, this time much more stern, “You’ve got to talk to me.”
She took several deep breaths through her nose, allowing her lungs to fill to their maximum capacity before exhaling with a sigh. Rafe could have sworn she was sucking all of the oxygen out of the room along with his patience each time she did so.
After what felt like ages, she parted her lips to speak.
“I went to the doctor today.”
“Yeah? For the six-month check up, right?” Rafe asked, not seeing why that was important but his mind quickly went to the worst scenario possible despite having just seen his daughter sleeping peacefully in her crib. He cut his eyes towards the hallway in the direction of her nursery before looking back to Y/N.
“Is she alright?” his voice now demanding urgency in the delivery of her response.
“She’s fine,” she quickly dismissed him, internally kicking herself for making Rafe worry.
“I was telling Melanie about how sick I’ve been lately and she -,” Y/N gulped and rubbed her knuckles against her tired eyes, bracing herself for whatever events unfolded after she said what she was about to say.
“She, umm. She made me take a pregnancy test.”
Now it was Rafe turn to be speechless. He stared at her with furrowed brows and his mouth slightly agape. His palms suddenly felt clammy against the white sheets that they rested on and his stomach felt like it had turned in on itself from how badly it was churning. Of all of the things he had expected to be wrong with her, this was certainly the last on the list.
“And?” he asked after what felt like an eternity of staring at her and saying absolutely nothing, though he already knew the answer.
“Ten weeks.”
Silent tears now spilled over her eyes and down past her temples. She couldn’t even be bothered to wipe them, instead letting them dampen a small patch of hair on either side of her head. Pregnancies weren’t supposed to be sad, but somehow, she had barely been able to stop crying since she left the pediatrician’s office.
“How,” Rafe whispered, moreso to himself than to her.
“I think you know how babies are made, Rafe” Y/N quipped.
“That's not what I meant,” Rafe fired back just as quickly, “It’s just...She’s still so little.”
He thought of his daughter asleep in the next room. She was the most perfect thing he’s ever seen and on the day that she was born, he knew he wanted nothing more than to fill his and Y/N’s house with as many blonde, chubby babies as he could fit beds in each room. He just hadn’t expected that his only child’s first birthday present would be the gift of being a big sister.
It was all too sudden.
“I just don’t know how I didn’t see it sooner. I mean,” Y/N raised her arms above her head before huffing and letting them fall to her sides, “I guess I was just so caught up with the baby that I hadn’t even had a second to think about what’s going on with me. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore and I-”
“Hey, hey now. Don't do that,” Rafe shushed her and curled up next to her frame as she began to sob.
He tucked her head into his neck, hugging her chest tightly as if he was trying to hold the pieces of her together before she shattered. His mind was running a mile per minute. It killed him to see her like this, killed him to be in this situation. The last time they had found out this news, there were happy tears - tears of shock and excitement about taking the next step in building a family. Never had he imagined that the next time they were presented with the very same news, that there would be tears of sadness.
Her voice was muffled against his now wrinkled button-down, but he could still make out what she was saying beneath her blubbers.
“I can’t do this.”
“What do you mean, honey? Of course you can. I can take more time off work like last time and let the boys handle everything for a bit. I know it's not ideal, but we’ll be alright,” he ran his hand up and down her arm in an attempt to soothe her.
“That’s the problem, Rafe.”
He lifted his chin from here it was resting on the top of her head to look down at her.
“What?”
“It's not ideal. You've only just now gotten back to work full time. You said everything almost fell apart while you were gone. It would fuck everything up. Plus, she's only six months old, Rafe. I can't go through that again so soon."
Rafe paused to break away from her and sit up straight against the headboard, “Are you serious? Of course I can take more time off work. You are more important than anything that could possibly be going on at the office.” He was a bit stunned by her words. She almost sounded annoyed, which didn't sit quite right with Rafe.
“But do you see what’s happening? Everything is fucked.”
His voice wasn’t so calm anymore.
“No, Y/N. I honestly don’t. I mean I know this is all happening much earlier than we expected, but what else is there to do? Will you please tell me what you're getting at, because I’m starting to get upset.”
Rafe's lips were pressed in a thin, straight line and his nostrils flared with every breath. Why was she being like this?
“I don’t know what I’m fucking getting at. I’m just overwhelmed."
“And you think I’m not? I'm trying my best to keep it together for your sake if you haven’t noticed,” it almost condescending the way the words rolled off his tongue.
“Oh, excuse me,” Y/N laughed sarcastically.
“Didn’t realize you were the one that's pregnant. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to grow all big and gross and swollen and be in pain every fucking day to the point where walking to the bathroom feels like a fucking marathon. Didn’t realize you’re the one that has to feel like you're burning alive from the inside out for hours and then just have to lay there while a doctor you’ve never seen before stitches you up because it literally tore your insides apart. Didn’t realize you-”
“For fuck’s sake, I get it!” Rafe was yelling now. They hadn't argued like this since they were much younger, and he absolutely hated it.
“It’s not the same and I’m sorry for suggesting that it was. I'm not sure what you want me to say though. I’m sorry? Is that it? Sorry for getting you pregnant? Sorry for having a job that helps us get anything we want for ourselves and our family? Sorry that I do everything I possibly can to keep you and the baby and everyone else on the fucking planet happy?”
“You’re being an asshole, Rafe,” she was just as angry as he was, scowl evident on her face even in their dimly lit bedroom.
“And you’re not making any fucking sense! Are you telling me you don’t want to keep it? Because I never fucking said that you have to.”
The thought had crossed her mind on the drive home from the doctor’s office, but the feeling left as quickly as it approached. She’d taken one look at her daughter in her car seat through the rear view mirror happily sucking on her teether and knew without a doubt that she couldn’t.
She felt a tidal wave of fresh, salty tears peaking and about to crash over her.
“I don’t want - fuck,” she put her head in her hands.
“I just-,” and then she broke.
Sobs wracked her body, making her shoulders shake up and down. She wasn’t even sure how she had any more left to get out, but it just kept coming. Over and over and over again until it felt like she was being suffocated and that no one was going to save her. She felt Rafe's hands move to rest on her shoulder blades and heard gentle, cooing-like sounds coming out of his mouth, but she couldn’t make out what he had said over the sounds of her own wailing.
“Baby, it’s okay. Just breathe. It’s alri-”
His attempt at subduing her was cut short by shrill cries coming from the digital monitor that sat on their nightstand. Rafe peeked over his shoulder at the screen, seeing that their daughter had woken from her nap and was now demanding the attention of her parents. He couldn’t help but wince as he watched her socked feet flail around in the crib; it was without a doubt that the screaming match they’d just had that stirred her from her sleep, and that hurt him just as much as it did to see his wife crying right in front of him.
Y/N heard it too, somehow. Perhaps it was because she’d been trained to react to every minute sound that she made and could recognize her cries from a mile away in the paralyzing fear that something was wrong with her or maybe it was because she looking for any and every excuse to get Rafe's hands off of her so she could get away from him and escape the argument they’d just had without making the situation any worse than it already was. Regardless, she turned her own neck to peer at the monitor and sighed heavily.
“I’ll go, Y/N. Just stay here.”
“No. I got it. It’s after seven. She’s probably hungry.”
She shrugged Rafe's hands away from her shoulders like his touch physically pained her and climbed over his body and off the bed without another word, not even giving Rafe the chance to take her hand and help her over the edge of the mattress. He knew she wasn’t going anywhere but down the hall and into the nursery, but he couldn’t help but feel like she was walking away from everything.
//
Y/N stared her daughter while she nursed. She started from the top of her head that was riddled with sandy blonde curls and worked her way down to the tips of her toes that would occasionally flex themselves out of habit. Her hair? Undoubtedly Rafe's. Her eyes? A perfect, entrancing shade of blue akin to Rafe's. Her lips? The same almost inhuman shade of fleshy pink, just like Rafe's. Surprisingly, the only physical trait she’d inherited from her mother was her nose, which was funny considering that Y/N had always hated hers.
She was content, suckling away at Y/N’s breast - her cries of hunger long forgotten. The infant hadn’t even flinched when a few more of Y/N’s silent, cold tears spilled over and left small wet spots where her onesie rested over her belly. She had no idea that her parents were upset with each other and she had no idea that in a little more than six months time, she’d be a big sister and there would be two babies fighting for their attention. Y/N was also clueless, but only as to how she was going to take care of a newborn and a one-year-old simultaneously. She’d always thought she’d have more time than this - more time to spend with just her daughter and Rafe before they decided to have another, but just like her eyes, things always had a funny way of never working out in her favor.
Three soft knocks on the wall withdrew her from her thoughts and she was greeted by her husband idling in the doorway like he needed permission before entering a room in his own house. It was off seeing Rafe Cameron this way - being the one with his tail tucked beneath his legs. It was usually the opposite. He had changed out of his work clothes and was now clad in his favorite pair of sweats that were permanently stained with spit-up. Y/N had tried everything under the sun to get the spots out, but he’d been persistent on not throwing them out.
“Can I come in?”
His voice was barely above a whisper and much calmer than when he’d been yelling at her about twenty minutes ago. He still hesitated crossing the threshold even after Y/N had given him a skeptical nod, but allowed his bare feet to pad over the plush carpet as he joined her on the loveseat in the far corner of the nursery.
He watched their daughter just as Y/N had, taking in her tranquil state as her fingers brushed reflexively against the underside of Y/N’s breast. He’d never been able to pry his eyes away every time he watched her nurse. There were no ulterior motives behind it whatsoever. It amazed him each and every time, how Y/N was able to provide their child with everything that they needed to grow with only her body. At first, Y/N hated that Rafe loved sitting in on her feedings, feeling exposed and unattractive despite Rafe's continuous affirmations that it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever had the privilege of witnessing, but over time she’d grown fond of it.
“I'm sorry for yelling at you,” Rafe started.
“It was uncalled for,” she quipped.
Y/N sniffled, rubbing her swollen eyes with the back of her free hand that wasn’t supporting her daughter’s back as she held her.
“It’s okay. It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry for yelling at you too.”
She couldn’t quite look him in the eye just yet, but she was slowy but surely getting there.
“It's not okay, actually. You’re right. I’m not the one having the baby. It’s you that’s got to do all the hard stuff and I know how scary it was last time. I should've been more considerate before jumping the gun.”
He shifted towards her on the cushions, afraid to touch her just yet but still yearning to be closer to her.
The best Y/N could muster was a quiet, “Thank you,” before she busied herself by attempting to run her fingers through her baby’s hair and untangle the mess she’d created while she was sleeping.
“Can I hold you? Please?” his voice was quiet and pleading.
Now was when she turned to face him and she was met with eyes that were just as red-rimmed as hers. She had heard the bathroom sink running for an abnormally long amount of time and a hard, frustrated pounding against the wall shortly after she’d gone off in the nursery to feed the baby, which meant he must have been trying to muffle the sounds of his own crying when she left their bedroom.
Y/N didn’t say anything, only shifting her weight onto one side so Rafe could easily lift her onto his lap in one swift movement without disturbing their daughter. He tucked her shoulder into his neck and softly kissed her skin and his hands moved to mimic hers so they were both holding the baby that was nodding off again in their arms. She found herself relaxing into his loose grip, her head tilting to the side to rest against his.
“I love you so much. You know that? I’d drop everything for you if I had to. I don't care about any of it anymore.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” she refuted, but there was no malice in her tone.
“I wouldn’t let you. You try to play it cool and I know that things are different now, but I also know that deep down you really like what you do.” The corner of Rafe's lips turned upwards, suppressing a chuckle at the fact that she really does know him that well.
“Well, just know that I would if you wanted me to. I’ve thought about it a thousand times. I want to be here for you. For her. Don’t want to miss anything. I finally got my shot at being normal when I met you and I hate myself sometimes when I think about all of the bullshit I've put you through.”
“Don’t,” Y/N paused to press a chaste kiss to Rafe's cheek.
“You’re a good person, Rafe's. A good dad. A good husband. Please don’t ever think that you’re not.”
She felt moisture pool in the dips of her collarbones where Rafe's chin lied, but she didn’t acknowledge it.
“I’ll be okay. Sorry if I freaked you out earlier. Think I just need some time to get used to it all. Just wasn’t expecting Melanie to drop the ball that I was pregnant when all I was expecting was for her to tell me that our kid is in the 99th percentile for weight and then send me on my way.”
This got a chuckle out of him, almost causing him to choke on his tears. He quickly rubbed the sleeves of his sweatshirt against his eyes to dry up any remaining wet spots on his face.
“She is pretty chunky, isn’t she?” Rafe jested while thumbing over his daughter’s rounded tummy.
After a moment of admiring their little chunk of a baby, with her milk-drunk eyes and puckered lips, Rafe spoke again.
“Two babies,” he huffed.
“Two babies,” she repeated.
His hands moved to caress Y/N’s stomach. She wasn’t showing yet considering that neither of them had even known Y/N was pregnant until today, but he still held her like her belly was the size of a watermelon and he was waiting anxiously to feel a hand or a foot press up against his palm.
“Might be kinda nice. They can share everything and we’ll only have to have one birthday party because they’ll be born around the same time. They’ll go to the same school and probably have the same friends. Kinda like twins.”
“Are you hearing yourself? Rafe Cameron? The party connoisseur? Suggesting his two precious babies share a birthday party?”
Rafe pursed his lips and blushed, recalling the fact that he'd already planned his daughter's first birthday in his head. Down to the tablecloth colors and dinnerware.
“Got me there,” Rafe chuckled.
Their banter was interrupted by a grueling rumbling sound coming from Y/N’s stomach that Rafe could feel throughout his entire body.
“Jesus, Y/N. You hungry too? When’s the last time you ate?”
“Uhh...this morning I think?” Y/N sighed.
“Couldn’t stomach anything when I got home.”
Rafe's heart dropped when he thought of how distraught she’d been all day while he was gone and with everything in him, he’d wished he would have postponed his meetings to go to check up with her and they could have found out together.
“Found those tomatoes at the store the other day, remember? Want me to make that pasta for you?”
“Ohh, yes please,” she immediately perked up at the thought.
“Starting to wonder if that was a craving now that I think about it. Didn’t we have it, what? Three nights in a row a while back?” she proposed.
Rafe giggled as he reluctantly removed Y/N from his lap and stood up from the sofa.
“Thought it was a bit weird that you wanted it so badly, but I know better than to question you.”
“She’s going back down. If you give me a minute, I’ll come downstairs and help you,” Y/N said, pulling up the straps of her tank top after realizing her daughter had long since forgotten about her breast and was conked out in her arms.
“I've got it, mama” Rafe quickly refuted. “Take a bath or something and I’ll bring it up when it’s done.”
“Okay.”
Y/N couldn’t fight the grin growing on her face at the nickname Rafe used that she still hadn’t gotten used to.
When she placed their daughter soundly in her crib, Y/N’s fingers stayed put from where they sat on the railing as she caught herself staring at the sleeping infant once more. Though she’d felt like her world was caving in on her just a handful of hours ago, the pieces were all coming back together now.
Of course, she wanted more children with Rafe. And now she was getting what she wanted. Just like he’d told her back in the bedroom, it wasn’t ideal, but they’d make it work. They always did.
With two babies.
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x reader#dad!rafe#dad!rafe x reader#dad rafe#dad!rafe x pregnant!reader#dad!rafe x fem!reader#rafe x pregnant!reader#dad!rafe cameron#mine#rafe cameron fanfiction#rafe cameron one shot#drew starkey x reader
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You Too, Silly
Pairing: Bartylus x Reader (Starkiller x Reader)
Summary: When your two best friends fall in love and make it official, you try to be happy for them despite your heartbreak. When they keep flirting with you, though, things grow complicated.
Words: 8.8k
Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, use of y/n, poly relationship obvi, miscommunication trope, pining & yearning, hurt/comfort, (some) angst with a (very) happy ending, your pov and you think your love is unrequited, it is not!, all three of you are stupid but you're in love so it's fine, kissing while crying, some slight suggestiveness but overall safe for minors, light drinking at a slytherin party
Note: this is my hard launch of romanian!barty mwah – if you don't like it sorry not sorry, this is my barty now!
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Being in love with your two best friends hurts.
Being in love with your two best friends who are in a committed relationship with each other hurts perhaps even more.
Being in love with your two best friends who are in a committed relationship with each other, yet for some reason seem hellbent on jokingly flirting with you at any given moment could be considered a form of torture.
And for the past few weeks, Barty Crouch Junior and Regulus Black have been putting you through nothing short of torture.
As any relationship either boy has sustained throughout their lives, your friendship with them was complicated. When you and your dorm mate Dorcas first began integrating yourselves in the friend group that consisted of Barty, Regulus and the elusive Rosier twins, you had both said you might come to regret it. You remember clearly sitting up one night and talking about it – you both thought it would end in flames, yet somehow you couldn’t help but poke the bear. You would prefer to fly under the radar, avoid any more pain than you had already had to grapple with, but you also craved a sense of belonging and figured it was worth the risk.
And oh, were you rewarded.
No friend had treasured you the way Barty does. The second he decided he “liked your vibe” as he put it when he cut you off mid-sentence during your first proper hang-out, you had a loyal guard dog who would kill for you and then demand cuddles as payment. Almost overnight, wherever you went, Barty wouldn’t be far behind, no questions asked. He was fierce in his love, uninhibited and wild. It made you feel important in a way that sizzled over your skin.
In Regulus, you found a quiet understanding no one else had been able to give you before. He was both a mirror held up to your face and a cushioned bench to share during your turmoils. It seemed like he could read your every thought, every experience, like the books you would bond over. Silences shared with Regulus often gave you more than long conversations with others ever could. While he didn’t declare your friendship in the same way Barty did, he still had this simple way of making you feel seen and known.
They quickly cemented themselves at the root of your heart. They were your best friends, and you theirs. Your boys; with their respective green and white strands in their curly hair, who were misunderstood in each their way yet were never a mystery to you.
Perhaps naively, you had always thought there was a certain tension there, that something ran deeper below the surface. Barty was physically affectionate with all his friends, but the way he reached out for you felt differently charged. The only other person he held as long as he did you, was Regulus. It felt right. Likewise, you had yet to be in a room with Regulus without feeling his eyes on you, and you often absentmindedly compared the feeling to when Barty hugs you – they were equivalents, those gazes were the former boy’s version of affection. When you played spin the bottle during an after-party in the boys’ dorm one night, Barty’s grin had widened brilliantly when it landed on you and Regulus. You had sworn you had seen a hunger in his eyes when he watched you share the brief kiss, and you could still hear the soft sigh Regulus breathed against your lips. Again, it all felt so right.
It went unspoken, but you thought that was because it did not need to – not because it was not there.
You knew, of course, that you had been stupidly delusional when Barty hauled Regulus with him into the Great Hall a month ago, hands intertwined, and announced with his signature Cheshire cat smile that he “finally got the boy”. You saw them making out – rather publicly – at the quidditch victory party the night before, but at the time it had only made you smile. It was odd, how you hadn’t realised that kiss was proof that all this tension really was just the two of them. Not before the words left Barty’s mouth did it hit you that this was a part of them you were not involved in. That felt decidedly wrong, but you shoved it down and joined in on the wolf whistling and congratulations, pushing your plate away in the chaos, unable to take another bite.
Since then, you have just tried to be happy for them. Or at least seem it.
Tried to smile through it all as Barty made sure their honeymoon phase was as public as humanly possible, much to Regulus’ ongoing chagrin. Tried to laugh at the quips your friends made, the “get a room you two”s and the “lovebirds”s, though you were never able to dish them out yourself, instead just humming along in agreement whenever Dorcas or Evan did. Tried to stiffen your mask to the point where it could not crack underneath the pressure of emotion, perfectly polished as you originally intended for it to be. All those years ago, before they had ensured you would not need it – you gave yourself a silent thank you for your previous doomsday caution.
You even tried not to avoid Barty and Regulus, to be normal. Why should they be punished by losing one of their best friends because they had the audacity not to fall in love with her too? While you thought yourself generally successful in not showing disdain for their new relationship, this was the one aspect you struggled the most with. Your instinct was to run away and it physically pained you not to. In the few weeks they had been together, you had not been able to stomach being alone with just the two of them and confront their relationship in such close proximity – but you knew you could not avoid them altogether. Instead, you tried to always attach yourself at Dorcas’ hip and always invite the rest of your friends if Barty and Regulus wanted to do something with you. They ask you to study out by the Black Lake? Fantastic, you, Dorcas and Pandora have an Astronomy project you need to work on anyway. They want to visit that one store in Hogsmeade with you? How convenient that Evan was discussing how he needed something from there earlier, and if he goes, then Pandora goes and if she goes Dorcas can’t be the only one left behind, can she?
To offset any accusation that you were not spending time with them alone, you still spent time with them one on one when you knew the other would be busy – just seeing Regulus or Barty was not too bad, it was seeing them as a couple, knowing it did not include you, that you could not withstand. If you were alone with one, you could just pretend nothing changed.
You made sure you focused on these ‘rules’ in your mind, the carefully constructed plan on how to make it through the year. Somehow you did not have it in you to wish they would break up and put you out of your misery – you wanted them, not just one – so instead you set your sights on graduation day. What you would do afterwards, you did not yet know. Disappear off the face of the earth? Become an Unspeakable as an excuse not to ever see them again? Endless possibilities. You zeroed your focus on your coursework and these measures you must take to protect your heart and sanity – if you filled your mind like this, maybe you could distract yourself from the pain that leaked through your body.
Barty remaining his flirtatious self whenever he was around you and Regulus’ simmering dedication to you seemingly only building, was decidedly not helping your case.
Which is how you ended up in this admittedly awkward cat and goose chase.
“There you are!” Not only did you hear Barty’s screech the moment he laid his eyes on you – everyone else in the library did as well, going by the shushes and ugly glares you both received that Barty paid zero mind to. “Dragă, I have been going crazy without you, where have you been?”
He plopped down on the bench beside you instead of any of the readily available chairs around the table, thigh flush against yours. “Good morning, B,” you whispered, hoping to lower his volume with yours.
The ever-growing grin on his face told you he likely understood your attempt. His hair was still damp from his morning shower and hanging slightly in front of his eyes, but you could see the sparkle there you thought was reserved for you. “Good morning,” he stage-whispered dramatically, to show his abiding of library law. Then, he pressed a smacking kiss to your cheek before pulling up his books. “Tell me, why are we studying on a weekend morning?”
This was the kind of activity that caused your delusion. It was early on a Sunday, arguably too early, and you had snuck out of your dorm to the library before anyone else woke so you would not be roped into any heartbreaking hangout. Yet, upon your absence, Barty went looking for you before doing his hair or anything – and when he found you studying, as he likely assumed you would be, he just joined you. There was no reason for him to.
You had been staring at him a tad bit too incredulously for a tad bit too long, so he gave you a cheeky sideway glance while he readied his books. “Too early for you too, baby?”
You shook your head, but couldn’t stop the laugh escaping you. “Maybe I’m just shocked at seeing you voluntarily in the library. I usually have to drag you here.”
“Yeah, because usually I have you with me somewhere more fun when you try to go to the library,” he explained to you matter-of-factly. “Now that you are here from the get-go, I accept my fate that this is where we’ll be. For now.”
“Lucky me.” You poked him lightly in the side to emphasise your sarcasm before you tried to return to your books, though your attention was thoroughly divided.
“I reckon I am the lucky one who gets to spend time with the fittest babe in the castle.”
You snorted at the same time as your heart shattered further – an odd reaction none other than Barty could draw from you. Those comments are not only how you got in this whole emotional mess to begin with, but felt like genuine ice shards spearing through your flesh. You were guilt-ridden as you revelled in them, and begged the gods he would stop.
“And I reckon,” you teasingly copied, hoping to sound level-headed and not agonised, “that Regulus would not appreciate having that title taken away from him.”
“Regulus is a fit babe,” Barty said dreamily, unaffected by your correction. “But he would agree that the title belongs to you, Dragă.”
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
Barty was incredibly particular in how he showed affection, and flirting with you explicitly was not at all out of character for him. You just, perhaps bitterly, hoped that maybe he would stop, if he was to be in a monogamous relationship with one of his two best friends.
“What’ll you be working on?” you asked, hoping to redirect the conversation.
Likely entirely unaware of your attempt, Barty allowed you, delving into a longer rant about what extra assignment Professor Flitwick had assigned him because he “saw potential in you, young man”, which he of course found to be utter “trollpiss”. It was familiar, working side by side while also not studying at all, gossiping like the two best friends you are. It should be lovely, and you kicked yourself for being hung up on it just being friendly, when friendliness in itself is a gift you should be grateful for.
While you tried to allow yourself to enjoy Barty’s company and not be guilty for how hard you noticed where his body touched yours, you kept your eye on the clock. Regulus had prefect rounds on Sunday mornings, but as soon as he finished them, he would seek the two of you out.
You had to get away from Barty before then.
“While this was lovely,” you said with a forced airy tone, “I have to get going now, B.”
“Cool, where’re we goin’?”
Your pageant winner smile wavered slightly as he immediately began to pack up his belongings, considering it a given that he would join you in your endeavours. “I don’t think so. I’m heading to meet with the Hufflepuff third years I tutor, and I believe it would be considered a crime to introduce them to you when they’ve just stopped being scared of me.”
Not technically a lie. You picked up a massive amount of extracurriculars after Regulus and Barty became official, and tutoring Hufflepuffs was part of it. Though you had no scheduled study session with them today, you knew at least two of them were still too much of a pushover to say no to you if you headed over there. Innocent casualties in your escapades.
Barty immediately pouted. “No fun,” he whined, sitting back down before you. He grabbed your hips and pulled you flush to him so he could rest his forehead on your stomach in defeat. “Why do you have to be such a swot? I miss you.”
You hoped he couldn’t hear your heart flutter at the sentiment. You brought a shaky, selfish hand up to card lightly through his hair, separating the green from the black. “Sorry, B. Duty calls and you know how much I love to be a hero.”
“No hero would leave such a perfect victim like me destitute and alone.” He moved his chin to rest against your flesh so he could look up at you in faux misery.
“Good thing you have Regulus, then.” You feared your voice was more pointed than you wanted it to be. It did not go with the pleasant mask you tried to wear, but the mask never fit quite right around Barty.
Something odd flashed across his eyes at your words and his eyebrows furrowed slightly. Whether he wanted to say something that would explain it, you would not find out, because you gave his hair one last ruffle before patting his cheek lightly and pulling away.
“I’ll see you for dinner, alright B? Don’t worry about me.” You turned around and walked away without waiting for a response.
It still came behind you, sounding too much like the ache in your own chest. “Counting down the minutes!”
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
You survived the rest of the Sunday with little to no incident; as in, you avoided being alone with Regulus and Barty, ensuring the friend group ate together and sat together in the common room afterwards. When Pandora retreated to head to bed, you immediately used the excuse to slither away too, lest you end up trapped with just the two of them by the fire.
Dorcas opened the door to your dorm just a few minutes after you had settled down on your bed to reread your comfort novel. You looked up with a warm, small smile to greet her, but it slipped away as you saw her eyeing you carefully. Neither of you said anything before she was sat on her own bed opposite you, studying you. There was this crackling ferocity to Dorcas’ silences that would make even the strongest man cave – and you were not feeling particularly strong lately.
“Spit it out.” It was all she said.
You sighed and put your book aside, straightening up in your previously comfortable position. “What is it, Cas?”
She gave you a stern but not unkind look. “You’re different. Why?”
“Different how?” You stalled.
She indulged you. “You’re not yourself, babe. Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you act like you’re programmed and not like you’re living. I want to know what’s wrong. I want to help.”
The staggering, almost fragmented way she spoke was in part to spoon-feed you her concern so that you might actually answer her truthfully and in part how Dorcas was with emotions. She had not been raised to speak of them, but she was loyal and smart, so she knew when it was needed, even if you wished she wouldn’t.
You looked at her with heavy eyes for a moment before sighing once more and bringing your hands up to roughly rub at your face. “There is no way for you to help right now, I’m sorry. Except maybe be my shield.” The last part was added as a joke, but it fell flat.
“Shield you from what?” Protectiveness flared in her tone and you knew you had to soothe it with the truth.
“Not what,” you said softly. “Who.” You pleaded with your eyes for her to understand.
It took but a few seconds before her face scrunched up in pity – and something that would almost looked like amusement, had you thought her cruel enough to laugh at you. “Barty and Regulus.”
It was a statement, not a question, yet you nodded in affirmation, shutting your eyes in humiliation. “It’s bad, Dorcas. It’s so bad.” A tired heave for breath. “But I will get through it. I just need a little bit of distance without any drama around it and to get my shit together.”
Dorcas looked like she was weighing up her next words carefully. “If I didn’t know you as well as I do, I would have told you to talk with them. Alas, I know you won’t. But I hope you somehow end up having to.”
Cryptic and confusing; just how you knew her to be.
When she realised you would not answer her first sentiments, it was her turn to sigh and give you a rueful smile. “I assume this is why I suddenly have been roped into so much lately? Marlene misses me.”
You laugh at her teasing tone, happy for her to not dig too much into your feelings. “Sorry about that, babe. Just for a little while longer, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she repeated with a tilted head. “If it’s any help, I get it.”
“Considering you got the girl, I don’t think you do.” There was no malice in your words, just a bit of longing. It was bittersweet to indirectly admit your loss.
“That’s not what I meant.” She waited to continue before you met her eyes once more. “I can’t say I understand your heartbreak exactly, but I share your confusion. I also thought you would be part of it.”
The look you gave her must have been nothing short of gobsmacked, yet she had the kindness to not laugh at you. It was unclear whether you were most surprised by her knowing you were in love with both of them, or her having shared the same assumptions as you once. Both floored you.
“I–” you tried, but your voice failed you. All you were able to do was whisper a small, “Thank you.”
This time, there was nothing but pity in her eyes. “I’m sorry babe. I’ll shield you to the best of my ability.”
You shared small, knowing smiles and you decided to end the conversation there, lest it get teary. Reaching over, you carefully switched off your light and placed your book on your nightstand, abandoning any attempt at being comforted for the night. When you laid your head on your pillow, there were phantom indents on either side.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
The one place you had no opportunity to shield yourself from or avoid either of them was during classes.
With your timetables for the year, you and Regulus ended up sharing more than half of your classes, while Barty was in at least a third of them. When you first saw the allocations, it felt like painfully little, and the thought of scraping by so many classes without them felt like a punishment you did not deserve. Now, you almost wished it was less.
Almost was the key word though – because Regulus’ presence by your side at your shared Herbology station was somehow melting the tension that had settled in your bones and making your chest heave all at the same time.
His elbow bumped lightly into yours. “You alright?”
You looked up from the notes you were pretending to study for the depotting you two were currently attempting, giving him a brief smile. “‘Course. Ready for the next step?”
His gaze lingered on you for a second too long, flickering over your face carefully before nodding almost imperceivable. You shifted your focus towards the Venomous Tentacula on the bench before you, reaching out to carefully manoeuvre the prickly leaves away so Regulus could attend to the roots when his hand stopped yours.
“These aren’t tight enough.” His voice was but a whisper as he took off his gloves to tighten yours where the velcro was hazardously slapped on top of each other. With long, cold fingers he elegantly realigned the straps and made sure there was no gap between your skin and glove. “Don’t want my best girl getting hurt, right?”
Regulus looked up to meet your eyes, a small smile playing over his lips. With his striking grey eyes locked on yours, you feared your emotions were too clearly pasted across your face. His loose grip remained on your bare skin, thumbs brushing carefully above your gloves.
“Right,” was all you offered him curtly, pulling your hands back to yourself.
Together you navigated the plant meticulously from one pot to the other you had pre-prepared. Propagating, maintaining and harvesting from the plant was one of your major projects in Herbology for the term and you and Regulus had been dedicated to your so-called coparenting to begin with. Now, to have his body half pressed to yours as you covered the plant’s teeth and angled its venomous leaves away while he extracted and cleaned its roots, it was almost too much. You breathed in and instead of being overwhelmed by the smell of dirt, your nose was filled with Regulus’ shampoo and cologne. You were suddenly thankful your part of the job was rather stationary, as you feared your hands trembling.
Regulus took a laboured breath as he settled the plant properly within its new home, packing the potting mix carefully around the roots. “Right there, perfect,” he murmured, presumably to himself, yet you fought the shiver down your spine. You noticed him glancing at you in the corner of his eye with what can only be classified as a smirk growing on his lips. “Amazing work, amour.” That was unmistakably to you.
You lightly shook your head to clear your thoughts. “Are we done?”
“Unfortunately,” Regulus replied, dusting the remaining dirt off his gloves as he took a small step back from the plant – and closer to you. “Gregory has been successfully assimilated to his new environment.”
You scoffed a laugh, to which his smile grew genuine. “You’ve got a flare for the dramatics, Black.”
“Only comes with being close to one Bartiemus Junior, doesn’t it?”
His eyes were crinkling from his smile and adoration, but you took the comment for what it was – a reminder. A warning. Albeit a confusing one, giving his amorous words just a few moments ago, but one you most certainly needed. “That it does.” Your tone was drier than you intended, but you did good; the smile didn’t slip.
Regulus’ did, and he tilted his head while regarding you. “I almost slipped up a few times there, though. Was a tad distracted.” There was an undeniable cheekiness dripping from his words.
“Yeah?” was all you managed to say.
“Yeah,” he breathed out, leaning against the desk. You had time to small talk, giving as you were finished long before anyone else. “Pretty girls like you really shouldn’t be allowed in here; it’s a safety hazard.”
“You would know all about safety hazards,” you mumbled, fighting yourself from going red from the sentiment or seeing red from the audacity.
Regulus’ laugh seemed more guarded than usual.
“Speaking of,” you said, trying to get the conversation to safer grounds, “who do you think will definitely kill their plants at last today?”
If there was one thing you and Regulus did well, it was gossip, and you managed to derail him into chattering quietly with you instead of doing some weird dance of pushing the limits and then drawing them clearly. As you spoke, you took small, careful steps away from Regulus to put some physical distance between you, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
If you had looked him in the eye even once more before your separation to go to your next periods, you would have seen that he did.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
You would have thought the Quidditch game on Friday to have been a blessing.
The tension had been growing more and more between you and your best friends, and it seemed that the more you volleyed around their pretend flirting, the more fired up they got, in each their own way. It didn’t seem sustainable anymore.
Even Dorcas had grown weary of you, though she tried to remain supportive while urging you strongly to speak with them about it.
“And say what exactly? What could I possibly say that would not make the situation ten times worse?”
Dorcas levelled you with a look that spoke volumes, but she seemed unwilling to verbalise any of it in response. Instead she just offered you a vague, “It might go better than you could imagine.”
You must admit you had grown weary of her cryptic remarks as well.
A quidditch game gave you the perfect opportunity to have a small break from them guilt-free, seeing as they were all playing for Slytherin. In turn, you believed you gave Dorcas a break from working overtime to shield you and keep any awkward situation at bay.
With you in the stands, cheering for your little makeshift family who were all involved in the game somehow – Regulus as Captain and seeker, Barty and Evan as beaters, Dorcas as a chaser and Pandora as commentator – you thought you could finally breathe for a moment.
Any such hopes were shattered when Barty came chasing up beside you before you could ascend the wooden stairs to find your seat.
“Dragă! Hold up!”
The pet name sent warmth up your spine, but the sigh that escaped you was not a happy one. You turned regretfully on your heel to take in Barty’s form as he jogged up to you. His quidditch gear was tight, much more than it had any business being, seeing as he could easily make them larger with a quick spell if he wanted to.
You didn’t ask what he wanted, but he didn’t seem to mind, grin permanently plastered on his face in your presence.
“Do I not get a kiss for good luck?” He threw you a cheeky wink with his comment as he came to stand in front of you, breath slightly laboured.
“Sure you can. Regulus is right over there.” You hoped your voice sounded a bit lighthearted even in your sternness of correcting his flirting. Even more, you hoped the heat in your cheeks had not turned into any noticeable redness.
A look at Barty’s wicked smile told you it might have. “I’ve already gotten plenty from Reggie. Now I just need my girl and I’m golden.”
You knew he didn’t mean it, at least not like that. You knew he meant a kiss on the cheek, and you knew he asked to make fun – not of you, but of the concept of good luck kisses and of your closeness as friends being read as anything else. He likely didn’t even know that you had been among those reading it as something else, this was a joke the two of you were in on, as all best friends should be.
Still, you couldn’t help but wince at the sting in your heart.
“I think you’ll do just fine without it, B.” You pressed your lips together in the same way you would if you were fighting a smile and not a frown.
He tilted his head at you, a mix of black and green strands falling into his eyes. “Have I done something that would make you want me to fall to my death? Because that is what will happen without you as my good luck charm.”
You shook your head, taking miniscule steps towards the stairs; away from him. “I’ll be a shining bright good luck charm in the stands. You’ll see me after, at the party.”
“I sure will,” he replied salaciously, but you caught the flicker in his eyes. “Wear a pretty little thing for me?”
“You know I’ll wear jeans.”
“And aren’t they a pretty little thing?” His smile grew more affectionate. “And you look good in anything, Dragă.”
“Sure.” You cleared your throat, stepping more confidently away from him. “See you later, B. Play well.”
“Just for you, baby!”
It was as if he was laying it on even thicker the more you turned his compliments away. While you never got quite used to his outspoken praise, it had been years since you embraced it and stopped fighting him on it – he didn’t seem quite pleased that you suddenly had started. Then again, Barty never liked not getting his way, so it shouldn’t surprise you.
You turned and walked back up the stairs, not turning to see whether he jogged off too or remained watching you like usual; you didn’t feel like having the pieces of your heart jumped on, and both alternatives would have resulted in nothing less.
In the stands, you settled into your usual place by the railing, seated beside Lily and Marlene, who were there to cheer on Dorcas. The two girls were the only Gryffindors you tolerated, not due to any of your own sentiments, but simply as a form of hatred by-proxy from Regulus and Barty – they were also a great opportunity to slowly edge Regulus closer towards reconciling with his brother. Though you knew in your heart that was a slow-and-steady-wins-the-race type of situation.
The game flew by and while you were relatively certain you cheered in the right places and sat with baited breath at the tense moments, you felt you were never truly present. Pandora’s voice in your ears was lulling, allowing your soul to drift out of your body and float up into the skies. You wondered if maybe you should take her up on her offer of teaching you how to meditate. Maybe that is how you end your torture rather than trying to change Barty and Regulus’ ways of being, even if it sent terribly mixed signals.
You were somehow exhausted by the time the whistle blew to announce Slytherin’s victory, despite not having done anything.
Victory was a guarantee for a rowdy party, which, if you didn’t watch yourself, was a guarantee for mistakes. You could not risk slipping up and confessing your feelings to either boy – though some part of you whispered that perhaps some liquid courage is what you needed to tell them to stop flirting with you.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
If the game had gone by in a blur for you, the party was nothing less. You lost Dorcas to Marlene’s wicked laugh just a few minutes in, and had since drifted between your many groups of friends. Shots with Evan, braiding with Pandora, armwrestling with Emmeline, gossiping with Amelia and Regulus. Throughout the whole night you had managed to keep things light, floating through the crowd and keeping someone by your side at all times. It made it bearable to be near the both of them when you had others to keep up appearances for. It also was a great distraction from the joint envy that bloomed in your heart whenever Barty paraded Regulus around like he ought to.
He tried to parade you too, but you slipped out of his grasp before he ever could.
The closer the night got to being over, the more intimate the atmosphere in the Slytherin common room grew. People migrated from standing around to sitting huddled together, there were quiet conversations and card games instead of yelling and butterbeer pong. There were less of the other house colours, and more of just the familiar greens and faces.
Meaning, it was your cue to slip out and away for a minute.
You, Regulus and Barty always ran off into some corner towards the end to do a debrief of the night, perhaps a bit tipsily. If there was one thing you couldn’t take right now, it would be that.
It was easy to distract the both of them by starting a conversation with Evan and Pandora – whether torture methods has improved or worsened since the dark ages – that would have them in a chokehold. You used the opportunity to slip out through the common room door and walk down the hallway.
It was rare you were grateful for the gloomy dungeons and their cold stonewalls, but this was one such moment. You walked slowly, alone at last, taking deep breaths. Somehow the air felt fresh despite being several metres below ground; anything was better than the stuffy post-party air that clung to the common room.
You let your right hand graze the wall as you walked, texture rough and freezing beneath your fingertips, and tipped your head back with closed eyes. You knew the way like the back of your hand.
At the end of the hall was a rarely-used classroom that functioned more as a storage room these days – your favourite place of refuge. The desk in there was the perfect size to lay down on to close your eyes and relax, feet just barely hanging off the edge. Along the top of the wall was a narrow window that gave an obscured view of the Black Lake, distorted light spilling through to make the most beautiful shapes along the ceiling.
You could stay here and relax and by the time you went back, everyone would have gone off to bed already and you wouldn’t have to face anyone until the morning.
“... Amour?”
You flinched so violently you almost fell off the desk, sitting up by propping yourself onto one elbow and clutching your chest with your other arm. “Gods, Regulus, you cannot fucking sneak up on people like that!”
“Sorry, love.” He offered you a half-hearted smile from where his head popped in through the crack in the door.
Barty’s head appeared just below his, as if he had crouched down to get the comedic angle. “I’m not, what the fuck are you doing here?”
You could hear the light squaffle behind the door as Barty presumably tried to push Regulus aside so he could walk in, while Regulus tried to hold his own to walk with grace. It resulted in them more or less tumbling in, the latter boy straightening up to close the door carefully behind him.
“Whatcha mean?” you asked dumbly, deciding to remain in your half lounged position on the desk at the top of the room.
The boys exchanged a quick look that you didn’t have the time to decipher.
Barty was the one who spoke. “I mean, how come you’re hiding out here? We have very important matters to discuss, you know.”
Your lips tightened slightly. You looked between them quietly while they came up to settle in front of your desk, Regulus deciding to lean his weight against a smaller one behind him while Barty jumped onto it without hesitation, settling into some odd position.
“Needed some fresh air. Party got too hot for me.”
“So you decided to lay down in this dusty room?” Regulus asked humorously, lifting a brow at you.
At the same time Barty commented, “I cannot imagine anything being too hot for you, baby.”
You ignored them both, fighting not to meet their eyes. This was going worse than you imagined.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to run off on you.” You aimed for a light-hearted tone, if a bit tired. “Want to do the debrief in here?”
Regulus hummed questioningly, as if he wanted to probe more, but Barty clapped his hands together. “Yes. You’re simply not getting out of this love, lest my bleeding heart become public knowledge as I wail at your absence.”
“Stop it, Barty,” you whispered. He didn’t hear you, in one way or another.
“Okay, so we all agree Dorcas and Marlene are shagging?”
You sit more up at this, realising you truly would be doing the whole debrief here, and that you would thus likely be here for a while. Also well aware that you know more than both of the boys on that matter, as Dorcas' dorm mate. “Well, duh,” you offer. “But did you see anything tonight?”
You look at Barty as he speaks, but can feel Regulus’ gaze burning through the side of your head, and you wish he would stop trying to scrutinise you. You look over to meet his gaze, hoping to give him an I’m fine smile that would divert his attention. However, when his eyes meet yours you see they are sparkling with that mischief that only Regulus can pull off, the kind that is equal parts elegant and dirty. He winks at you, and you really, really wish he wouldn’t.
You shift your gaze back to Barty, further assuring his claim. “Don’t push it with Cas, though,” you warn. “She will tell you when she feels like."
“But it is so much fun to push it though,” Barty pouted, making his eyes comically big.
“It’s even more fun to not be skinned alive by Dorcas in our sleep.”
“Fine,” he groans, throwing his head back theatrically before settling you with a gaze. “But only because you asked, beautiful.”
You hum noncommitedly, fighting any prickling tears. Don’t be such a fucking twat. Let your friends speak to you.
“Oh,” Regulus said, as if he just remembered a piece of drama to share. “Amelia flirted with me earlier.”
“She what!?” Barty’s voice was not much unlike a banshee’s. “Have I not made it clear that your arse is off the market?”
Your heart plummeted and you had to fight not to let your shoulders grow into your ears.
“Right?” Regulus said through a laugh. “I think she was just too pissed, though. Would have flirted with anything that walked.”
“What did she say?” you asked somewhat meekly.
“Oh, something about gorgeous curls and tight shirts and whatnot.” Regulus made a waving motion with his hand, as if physically brushing it off. “You know, the usual. Called me baby.”
“Only we get to call you baby,” Barty said through a pout.
We?
“I know, amour, I told her as much.”
Barty nodded emphatically. “Good. I don’t like picking fights with birds, but I would if she can’t keep her hands off the goods.”
Regulus gave his leg a light kick with his own. “Down, boy.”
Your stomach was turning over and you desperately wanted to leave. A comment about being tired and wanting to discuss the rest over breakfast tomorrow died on your tongue when Barty turned his attention to you, pout giving way for a scrutinising look.
“What about you, Dragă? Anyone else flirt with you?”
Any turning in your stomach was replaced by an irritation seeping into your bloodstream, one that had been fighting with heartbreak and anxiety for your attention for almost a month now.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, B.” You’re not sure quite what possessed you to say it, but there was no denying your dry tone.
Barty looked equally puzzled, head actually reeling backwards ever so slightly. Still, he pushed his luck. “Am I not allowed to be concerned for my girl?”
You looked at him incredulously. “I am not your girl.”
That was the whole point. That was the whole heartbreak. That was all you could think about. They were each other’s and you weren’t theirs and you most certainly was not their girl.
Regulus’ stance shifted quickly, tensing in weariness. “Amour, what he meant–”
“I know what he meant.” You sighed, making no effort to hide your pain anymore. You could not take this. “I know what you both mean.”
“Baby–” Barty began, sliding off of his desk and moving towards you, but you cut him off.
“No! Stop it, Barty, please.” He looked as if you had punched him. “I can’t take it anymore, I’m sorry. I am so, so happy for you and I’m glad you’ve found each other like that. But now that you have, I just can’t take you flirting with me or, or doing the play pretend. It’s not fun anymore.”
The room was laid in silence.
You had been defiantly staring at the wall behind them both, but after practically being able to hear the crashing out in their minds, you slid off your own desk and made your way towards the door without sparing them a glance. “I need a moment.”
“No, no, hey, hey, hey,” Barty chanted as he ran up behind you, hand circling loosely around your wrist. Enough to ground you, but not enough to trap you should you want to wrestle free. He slowly came up around your stopped form. “Shit, Y/N, I–” This time he cut himself off, running his free hand through his hair and looking over at Regulus, whose footsteps you could hear stop right behind you.
You stared at the door over Barty’s shoulder. This was your worst nightmare.
“Amour, we’re sorry,” Regulus whispered behind you. His hand came up to ever so slightly trace the side of your arm.
You felt ganged up on where you stood between them and you cursed your body for loving it, even as they were rejecting you more explicitly than ever. “It’s alright. It’s not your fault that you don’t– you know.”
“No, no, no,” Barty chanted yet again, hands coming up to grasp both of your cheeks and bruising away a few tears you only now realised had fallen. You would never stop revelling at how Barty’s touch could be so painfully gentle even when his voice was frantic and passionate. “That’s exactly it, Dragă, we do. We do. I do.”
You met his eyes and furrowed your brows at him. “Barty, I don’t think you understand what I’m saying.”
He had the audacity to laugh quietly at you. “I don’t think you understand what you’re saying. In what world could I, Barty Crouch Junior, not be obsessed with you?”
“Lovely girl,” Regulus whispered as he inched forward into your field of vision, hand growing more confident in its touch on your arm. “I’m sorry, we’ve gone about this all wrong. We realised it quickly, but didn’t know how to fix it. The whole... getting together part happened naturally between Barty and I, and we figured it would with you too immediately after, but it proved, uh, more complicated.”
At last, your brain caught up with you, and your instinctive reaction was to jerk backwards out of both of their grasps, not even feeling the impact of your back hitting the desk behind you. Both boys hissed at the thump that sounded.
You finally looked at both of their eyes and found layers of insecurity and guilt there, along with…
“Are you saying…” you started, but trailed off, unsure how to formulate the words.
“I’m obsessed with you, consumed by you, enthralled by you, whatever word you please, it’s yours. I’m yours.” Barty’s face was almost impassive despite the volumes behind his confession. More tears welled in your eyes, by confusion still more than any relief – you didn’t dare feel that yet.
“What he’s saying is that – well, that we love you.” Regulus smiled and you saw the quiver of his lips at the unfamiliar words.
You let out a half-choked sound. “I don’t understand? But then why– how come–”
Regulus took a careful few steps towards you once more, hand held out between you in a show of safety. “Even as it happened, I remember thinking you would laugh at us for it. Really what happened a month ago was just that we didn’t really think at all.”
“Which you rightfully accuse us of a lot,” Barty added.
“Right. Barty and I were together and drunk and that tension we’ve all had, I guess it finally spilled over for us. By the time we had admitted our feelings physically, we didn’t really need words for it, which is what we both struggle with the most. And you weren’t close by to be dragged into it. When we told everyone we hoped to just… smoothly join you in. Wouldn’t be difficult right, it’s always been the three of us anyway?”
“Turns out it’s not so bloody simple,” Barty grumbled.
By this point, tears were streaming clearly down your face. Regulus reached out a hesitant thumb to wipe them away. “We were stupid, amour. And by the time we got our wits about us, we didn’t know how to reign you in, other than by… continuing being us. Us three.”
“How could I feel like it was us three when it was so clearly you two?” you all but sobbed.
Barty had grown too impatient by Regulus’ easing you in and closed the gap in two long strides, grabbing at your hand fiercely. “You couldn’t, we were just stupid wankers and absolute boys. You’re perfect, it’s not your fault you fell in love with us sods.”
You laughed a bit wetly, bringing grins out on both of their faces. “Bold claim you have there,” you said, some teasing making its way into your voice.
“But an accurate one?” Regulus’ tone was void of humour, just quiet and nervous and hopeful.
“Of course,” you breathed and Barty’s hands tightened around yours. “I always thought it was us three… when it seemed like it was just you two, I– I didn’t really know what to do with myself.”
“So you ran and you hid,” Barty concluded with a nod. Upon your almost offended expression he hastily added, “as is understandable, and as asserted, we are wankers and you are perfect.”
“Stop saying that,” you whispered.
“But it’s true,” Regulus added in the same cadence. Then, a sparkle settled in his eyes as he regarded you. “Can I prove it to you?”
Your breath hitched at the implication but you nodded, ever so hopeful smile growing on your face. You dared tighten your own hold on Barty’s hands – they were delightfully warm.
Regulus’ smile matched yours and he took a final step towards you to bring the two of you together. His lips covered yours in the sweetest of kisses, slow and smooth and exactly how you had guiltily pictured. He breathed in as he kissed you and you felt the air move across your skin, tickling and tingling. When he pulled back he pressed a quick kiss to your cheek too.
“This whole thing should have never played out this way,” he started. “But this is exactly where I always wanted to end up.”
Barty bumped lightly into both of you, giving you a conspiring smile. “It’s true – he tried to brag to me that he had been picturing us three together since fifth year, which is embarrassingly late for him. I’ve pictured this since the fifth week of knowing you both.”
You huffed a laugh, feeling your entire face still burning from the confessions, neck aching from the whiplash and lips tingling from the kiss. “Then you’ve both got eons on me. I only really realised, like, last term.”
“See, that’s because you are sane,” Barty provided, circling his arms around your hips to pull both you and Regulus closer to him. “A sane beautiful girl who balances us out perfectly and who completes my heart.”
“One we will spend eons making up lost time with,” Regulus added somewhat cheekily.
You brought your hands up to properly wipe at your face, hoping to remove redness and giddiness with the wet. “It’s barely been a month.”
“A month you spent confused and hurt, Dragă. That cannot slide. I would have hexed anyone else who did that to you.”
“No one else could have broken my heart,” you said then, intending it to be romantic.
The horrified looks on their faces said otherwise. “You were heartbroken?” Barty exclaimed in intense frustration, pulling his wand up and handing it to Regulus. “Reggie, baby, I need you to Avada me right now. Use my wand so they can’t trace you and send you to Azkaban, because you need to be her personal servant to repent for us.”
“Barty!” you laughed, quickly plucking the wand out of his hands before any shenanigans could occur. “It’s fine, really–”
“Nope, absolutely not,” he cut you off. “I must fix this. Kiss it better?”
Before you could even really respond he brought his hand up to the back of your neck, pulling your face gently albeit quickly towards his. Millimetres before his lips could crash with yours, though, he paused. Giving you the opportunity to back down. His thumb was ghosting carefully across the baby hairs at the nape of your neck.
With a delighted sigh, you leaned your chest against his and brought him the final way in for the kiss.
His lips were softer than they looked, fitting exactly within the narrative that usually followed your relationship with Barty. He quickly opened them for you, bringing your bottom lip in between yours and kissing you passionately, tongue sliding over delicate skin. One of your hands curled into his shirt by his collar, wand long since discarded on a desk, while the other found Regulus’ neck, massaging it not much unlike Barty did with yours.
Barty’s skillful lips trailed happy kisses along your jaw, turning into a smile at the breathy laugh that escaped you at his ministrations.
Your eyes met Regulus while Barty practically attempted to bury himself beneath your skin, smiling and sighing against you – kissing it better. The former boy’s smile was at its widest and most sentimental, encircling the both of you within his arms.
“Y/N,” he said, almost seriously. “We will do right by you, as we always should have. I’ll start by asking, will you please legitimise our feelings by becoming our girlfriend?”
Before you could reply, Barty added against your neck, “And will you please take back your demand we stop flirting with you, because I don’t think I can.”
You were afraid your smile was almost dreamy – everything you believed out of reach just a few minutes ago was not quite literally cradled in your arms. “You are both so unbelievable. Yes, I’ll happily be your girlfriend and yes you may flirt with me.”
Barty popped his head back up from your neck, lips somewhat swollen despite being stretched wide. “Fucking finally.”
“You say that as if I was the one holding back,” you teased, poking him in the chest.
“And while I will lay down and take a sword to the chest for ever believing I was not mad about you,” Barty began. “I think there is also something to be said about little miss run away and completely shut away any and all feelings and compliments.”
You hummed as if in thought. “No, I don’t think so.”
Regulus snorted in that way he only ever did around you two. Then, he reached out and gave you two, three kisses in a row, grinning all the while. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Too cute.”
Barty, tactile as ever, was cradling your cheek in his hand, tracing the side of your nose with his index finger. “I want the court to know that I am absolutely mad about Regulus,” he started, smiling all the while. “But it was always you too, silly.”
Emboldened, you leaned forward and gave him a sweet kiss. “Glad to know it.”
“Now let’s make sure everyone else does too, yeah?”
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The Girlfriend Experience
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/6c0e1bf5f3714b95795190505af6faad/21bccfa665044018-46/s540x810/39f9dd6ab97421ba186c55472e3cf4e72a95cee3.jpg)
Eddie Munson x Reader
Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill.
Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise
Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!
A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting.
“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.
“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”
“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.
“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”
“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”
“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”
“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives.
This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.
“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.
“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”
You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells.
There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way.
“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”
You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.
When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.
After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.
It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t.
“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.
Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.”
“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”
She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this.
“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand.
You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin.
“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”
“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot.
“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”
“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.
“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”
You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl.
“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”
“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend.
“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.”
“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him.
“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.
“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”
“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort.
Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment.
“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”
He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity.
“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”
“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”
The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair.
Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.
“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world.
When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”
Still no reply.
“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.”
“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced.
Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”
“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”
“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head.
“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”
“Huh?”
“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something.
“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.
“No.”
“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.
“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”
“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one.
“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan.
“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“
“No,” you cut him off.
“WHA-“
“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”
“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him.
“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”
“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve.
“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”
“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.
This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience.
After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date.
After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.
As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too.
Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory.
“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”
It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.
“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel.
“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up.
On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date.
“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”
He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest.
You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation.
“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question.
“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”
“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”
“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.
Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.
“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”
“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”
“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”
“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes.
“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious.
“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”
“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up.
“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!”
You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever.
“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.”
He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him.
Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date.
“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to.
“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting.
“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”
The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius.
“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home.
“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”
He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”
“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”
Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n.
Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into.
“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”
“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space.
“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”
“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment.
“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”
“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”
“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble.
“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”
“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”
“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”
“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly.
“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks.
The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch.
“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”
“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”
“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”
“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”
He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle.
“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet.
“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat.
“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”
‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.
You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.
“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,”
He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it.
He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.
As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him.
“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”
The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it.
Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.
Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve.
He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing.
As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway.
“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat.
He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood.
You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.”
The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed.
You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon.
Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you.
But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never.
You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room.
“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share.
“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.
After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home.
“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”
“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly.
“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.”
You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view.
He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?
On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again.
He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date.
Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’.
You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago.
“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it.
“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend.
The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection.
“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.
“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”
He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.
“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”
To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.
“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don��t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”
Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section.
After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic.
Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides.
You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.
Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you.
As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos.
“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure.
“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.
“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.
“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass.
“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears.
Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic.
“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”
Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches.
“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.
Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else.
You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake.
“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”
“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.
“From bugs?”
“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”
“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”
You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.
“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.
“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh.
“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”
You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.
After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did.
It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom.
The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless.
Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you.
Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.
What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm.
“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.”
You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.
“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.
“Am I what?”
“Are you asking me?”
“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice.
“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.
Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.
Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention.
Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully.
He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable.
While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.
“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”
“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”
“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”
He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down.
“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means.
“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”
Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.
“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”
As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.
Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.
“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”
“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”
“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”
“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”
“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.
“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”
“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”
You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid.
The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’
A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else.
It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak.
Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.
Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt.
“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink.
There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place.
“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.
“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”
“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”
You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise.
Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.
“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide.
“Oh, I was just waiting for-“
“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.
Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“
“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.
Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.
“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.
“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.
He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same.
“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.
“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”
“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question.
“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”
“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”
A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time.
“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”
“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.
“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”
You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts.
“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”
“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.
“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him.
He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board.
“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts.
As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways.
“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”
You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been.
“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.
You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder.
“Oh my god, fuck off!”
You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.
Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since.
“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say.
“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.
“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.
“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking.
“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”
“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.
“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”
Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you.
“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago.
“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be.
“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."
“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”
Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.
“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”
He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you.
It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire.
“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink.
“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”
Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions.
“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss.
He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.
Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.
He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time.
“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.
“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.
You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.
He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear.
Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you.
“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”
Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink.
“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole.
The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.
“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”
Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”
“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”
“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win.
“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”
“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”
If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in.
The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.
He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck.
“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”
Jackpot.
A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand.
“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up.
Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough.
He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering.
“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”
Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again.
“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”
The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin.
“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”
“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.
“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”
You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this.
His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together.
Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs.
Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea.
If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.
“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”
“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”
He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this.
Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next.
You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van.
“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes.
“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”
“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”
You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap.
As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh.
“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret.
“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”
You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass.
“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him.
You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.
He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.
The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door.
Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.
You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right.
And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.
“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding.
You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.
Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level.
Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting.
He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times.
You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.
You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach.
All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him.
The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.
“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips.
After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon.
You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.
Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you.
“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.
He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft.
“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not.
“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”
Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants.
“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.”
“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat.
“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”
You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it.
Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him.
“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”
The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.
Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips.
“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment.
Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls.
You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss.
In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself.
“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.”
He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides.
You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room.
Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end.
“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply.
It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is.
Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck.
“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets.
“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs.
In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going.
The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.
“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets.
He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.
Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch.
His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips.
Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees.
He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you.
He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most.
Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder.
“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.
“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.
“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch.
His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt.
“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”
The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls.
“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair.
Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter.
Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other.
Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.
“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure.
“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”
Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head .
“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“
A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core.
As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit.
He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face.
When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants.
“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate.
“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds.
“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right.
He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked.
“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.
“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.”
“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.
He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched.
“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you.
“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”
“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his.
You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.
“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole.
“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again.
“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes.
“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him.
He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face.
As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.
“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”
“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”
His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back.
You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set.
Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.
“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck.
“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine.
He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain.
“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach.
And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.
His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.”
When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line.
“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”
With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you.
The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent.
Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment.
He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.
Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again.
“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper.
“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”
Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose.
“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means.
“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”
His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him.
The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up.
When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up.
His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.
Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you.
You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you.
You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle.
You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal.
Apparently not,
Days pass, and no call.
It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response.
After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring.
Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door.
“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say.
“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”
“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”
“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did.
You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say.
“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson.
“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”
Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you.
“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”
“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”
He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“
You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”
“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.
At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart.
“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”
“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”
You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you.
“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”
“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”
“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”
“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”
“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”
Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties.
Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom.
“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.”
You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy.
“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”
You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up.
Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin?
Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.
At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.
And there he is.
In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.
"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.
"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."
You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.
"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."
He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.
"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."
You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.
"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."
He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.
"And I owe you a few dates, for real."
As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.
"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.
"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.
You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.
#eddie munson smut#smut#eddie x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#eddie munson imagine#Eddie Munson smut#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things smut#eddie munson fem!reader
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↝ ALONE, IN MY MIND (14k words)
Summary: So what if Eddie Munson had a really pretty face, it was just too good not to admire. So what if you liked to draw him in your free time, he definitely didn’t mind. Yet somehow, tutoring him still felt like the most scandalous thing you’ve ever done.
↝ OUR LITTLE SECRET (1.7k words)
Summary: Tardies were becoming a regular occurrence and you couldn’t handle another day of boring detention, but Eddie couldn’t resist the chance to worship you in every way possible. Just be quick, no one had to know.
↝ RENTALS & RECORDS (11k words)
Summary: Eddie can’t hide the fact that he’s sort of obsessed with you, but you can’t deny that you might be secretly obsessed with him too.
↝ FORBIDDEN FRUIT (series — 1, 2, 3, 4)
Summary: You find yourself torn between the idea that even though Eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.
↝ DON'T HANG UP (mini-series — 1, 2, 3)
Summary: Eddie’s got a late night bone to pick with you; only one minor sexual inconvenience in the way, but that doesn’t stop you from picking up his call and Eddie doesn’t want to hang up either.
↝ TAKE IT SLOW (3k words)
Summary: It wasn’t your fault your dealer liked to give you special treatment and kiss you in private, those were just the perks of being a very loyal customer, aside from the fact that he was probably falling in love with you.
↝ SCREAM MY NAME (15k words)
Summary: Summer of 96’, fresh off the anniversary of the tragedy that took place one year ago—you and your friend are ready to enjoy your last few days of freedom and fun, but someone has other plans in mind and everyone is fair game.
↝ FAKING IT (12k words)
Summary: Your career was built on luck and fortunate circumstances, but that was bound to run out at some point. Enter Eddie Munson, rockstar extraordinaire, the reason for your life being thrust into chaos—but, fake it til you make it, right?
↝ CAMERA SHY (mini series — 1, 2)
Summary: Eddie’s a popular camboy, along with your best friend Steve. one lucky introduction manages to turn your life upside down, arguably, for the better.
↝ GET YOUR FIX (5k words)
Summary: Adventures in your shared obsessions of each other and your bodies—and Eddie was insatiable when it came to you.
↝ SIMPLE RULES (unfinished series – 1, 2)
Summary: Eddie doesn’t have his life together any better than the next person, but for his daughter, he fakes it well. Sll he really needed was balance, but he wasn’t sure that even existed—not until you.
OLD MASTERLIST, INCLUDING REQUESTS (1 & 2)
NOTE: I've written like 80+ things for this dude and most of my posts have broken links so this is an attempt at fixing broken links on multiple series that I posted over two years ago, I'm too lazy to go through the process and figured this is easier lmao.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson#stranger things#stranger things fic#joseph quinn#eddie munson x f!reader#giving him a spot on my masterlist finally#back to regularly scheduled programming
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SQUID GAME CHARACTERS KINKS HEADCANONS
CONTAINS — namgyu x reader, thanos x reader, daeho x reader, semi x reader, myungi x reader
WARNINGS — (fem reader) 18+ content minors dni
masterlist
NAMGYU / PLAYER 124 — dacryphilia, hand over your mouth
dacryphilia — loves the sight of your tears from how well he’s pleasing you. he definitely teases you and will make fun of you for it, but he loves it, don’t worry. after the first time he makes you cry, he decides that anytime you two have sex, he has to make you cry. sometimes he’s a little rougher to obtain this. weather that be by pinching your nipples or biting your neck a little too hard, it doesn’t matter, he has to see those pretty tears.
the sight of his hand over your mouth also just gets him going. it makes him feel like he’s got some sort of power over you and he’s living for it. you just look so pretty as your tears slide over his palm, he can’t help himself.
THANOS / PLAYER 230 / CHOI SU-BONG — chemsex
not really an actual term, but hes a druggie and what’s better than doing drugs while having sex with you? and i don’t just mean popping a quick pill in his mouth, nah. doing lines of coke all over you. snorting that shit off your neck, off your tits, off your ass, everywhere. loves blowing the smoke from his fruity vape right onto your clit and if he’s got a condom on, he’ll lay down on his side and have you snort a line of coke right off of his dick. it’s certainly not safe, but if he’s super high out of his mind, he’s just gonna let you snort the coke off of his dick raw. no condom. loves the feeling of your nose rubbing lightly against his dick and the feeling of the air from your nose. got him cumming without really even touching him that much.
for sure takes a hit of his vape before going into kiss you and then blowing it all into your mouth.
“you’re thanos’s girl, yeah? hah, got two of my favorite things together. drugs and your pretty pretty pussy.”
KANG DAEHO — sitophilia, cockwarming
sitophilia — not into all foods, more specifically, whip cream. god, licking it off your perky nipples and licking it off right above your clit and then dragging his tongue down all the way through your folds? he’s already cumming. which on another note, he loves eating you out. might accidentally overstimulate you if he gets super into it.
he also lovessss cockwarming. just pushing into you, bottoming out completely and being cuddled up close to you, your bodies warmth being shared between each other makes his cock twitch. he loves feeling your warm walls melt and tighten around him every so often. everytime you move to get comfortable, you run the risk of him cumming after only a few seconds. the whole situation gets him painfully hard. there’s times where he can fall asleep with you like that. there’s even been times where you’ll straddle his lap, keeping his dick warm while you two sit in a chair at your dinner table and you’re sitting on his lap and you feed each other. everytime you two laugh at a joke or the goofiness of the situation, it’s causes him to thrust up in you or you to bounce on him, immediately causing him to grip onto your waist and press his forehead to your chest as he takes choked up shaky breaths trying to compose himself. sometimes he can last a long time just staying still, content with letting you just cockwarm him. and other times? he’s a begging mess and just can’t hold on any longer.
“baby, i don’t think i can stay still much longer. let me move, please?”
SE-MI / PLAYER 380 — manhandling, orgasm denial, overstimulation, voyeurism
she likes knowing that your pleasure is in her hands. if you want to cum, it’s not your choice, it’s hers. loves pulling her tongue away from your clit right when she can tell you’re about to squirt all over her face. loves seeing you beg for her to let you cum, and eventually she’ll give in. if she’s feeling a little mean, after she finally lets you cum, she’ll keep her tongue attached to your pussy. she’ll keep on sucking it over and over and she won’t stop until you’re crying out.
“what? i thought you said you wanted to cum, baby.”
voyeurism— sometimes when she pulls away when you were oh so close to cumming, she has you make yourself finish. she watches you finger yourself and rub circles into your clit while listening to your sweet moans. she loves it when you can’t do it yourself and you have to beg her to help you.
she also loves manhandling you. doesn’t have to be extreme either. just holding you down by your hips or her putting you into any position she desires gets her going. she just loves knowing she has all the power and the control over you.
MYUNGI / PLAYER 333 / MG COIN ★ — rough sex, vanilla
i don’t think he’s into anything too crazy. i think he’s going to have very calm more organized and kept together thrusts while he has a nice grip on your hips, but then there’s other times where he’s in a shitty mood or just feeling different and his thrusts are a lot sloppier and a lot harder. his grip on your hips is tighter, almost digging his fingers into you. i also think hes into quickies as well. maybe not so much into them, but he does have quickies quite often with you. sometimes he has fun with it, sometimes it’s just because he has to get his dick wet. i think he’s generally a more tame guy, but that doesn’t make the sex with him bad at all. he knows what he’s doing, and he’s the best at it.
#squid game x reader#squid game headcanons#squid game smut#squid game reaction#squid game reactions#thanos x reader#namgyu x reader#myungi x reader#player 333 x reader#myung gi x reader#semi x reader#se mi x reader#se-mi x reader#daeho x reader#dae ho x reader#thanos smut#daeho smut#namgyu smut#semi smut#myungi smut#myung gi smut
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