#or at least small snippets of it here and there

[hobidreams]

Hello 🌸,

I just so finished your first Jimin fic warm hand, ice cold heart and i wanted to tell you how much i liked not only the fic itself, but your way of writing. You write in such a warm and heartfelt way that it truly consumes you into the fic, and lets you feel all of the raw emotions. At first, i thought Jimin is some douchebag, Oc an innocent girl that was dragged into this whole mess and Jungkook the true victim. But then, the story went on and i saw how much of a soft sweetheart jimin is, and that oc is the main ,,problem“. And then i actually thought that Oc will choose Jungkook after all that had happened, but when she had this talk with Jimin, i truly understood everything and wanted nothing more for her to choose Jimin. Oc and Jungkook had their time, but it ran out. What i got from this, is i think that they were too comfortable with each other. And dont understand me wrong, comfort is good and should be on top of the list of every relationship. But i think there are two types of comfort. And Oc and Jungkook had the type of comfort that gave Oc the feeling of being… lost ? does that make sense ? like they are both on standby with no future ahead ? just floating without looking forward ? and i think thats bad. Its sad that Jungkook after all this time still couldn‘t grasp this. I mean sure, a relationship is not always perfect and the spark that two people have eventually will at least flunker, but not to an extend in which you do not seek any physical, nor mental touch and emotion from your partner. Im happy that Oc admitted what was plaguing her mind this whole time and they both gave each other a chance. Now Jimin and Oc can both have the future with each other they thought they could never have. And i also hope Jungkook can let go like Oc did and find someone who wont let his spark go away ( and someone he wont let wait 6 years to make his wife cause thats just ouch 🥴 ). Now onto your next fics love !

- 🧚🏻

omg 🥺🥺🥺🥺 thank you so much for reading wh(ich)!!!! it remains one of my favorite things i've written with all the new things i tried with it and just how it broke my own goddamn heart haha. awwwwee im so glad that you were able to feel the emotions too and that it felt natural that oc chose jimin in the end. that was probably my biggest anxiety abt it--that it felt natural for oc to gravitate towards jimin in this new part of her life. it's so hard to let go of our feelings when nothing is specifically... wrong but it's not exactly right either, yeah? ahhh you got it perfectly. that floating feeling 🥰🥰🥰 thank you so much for this detailed review and for truly connecting with the story 💗 i like to imagine JK meets his next partner fairly soon after this, though he doesn't realize that she's the right person for him until it hits him all of a sudden one day and then BAM he's in it. and they're married not long after that hahah. this JK is so passionate and full of love to give!!!! thank u for making my inbox so bright with this review <3 please enjoy my other work and take care!!

[tls123]

Oh my god HOW DID YOU LIKE SVSSS!!!!!

i liked it more than i thought i would but overall less than i might have given the potential of the story, i think in general i really enjoyed the characters (mxtx never goes wrong with characters, she creates them in a way that makes me feel unhinged) and the world building but the pay off to the set up—which i really liked!—felt a bit........ i mean, just alright.

the dynamics too are pure mxtx, personally the bin/gqiu dynamic specifically really was the least interesting part of the whole story. to me!! but individually i loved both characters. my interest was just elsewhere because """elsewhere""" felt way more fascinating idk how to explain it

was very, very happy about the extra with airplane and the yue qingyuan / shen jiu one because that's exactly what i wanted more of in the story itself as well as just more shen yuan/qingqiu interacting with cang qiong mountain

maybe it's my orv brain but like i told jana a while back i think i would have enjoyed svsss way more if it was more about shen yuan (loner; hater; etc) suddenly finding himself among all of these people (disciples looking up to him; sect siblings relying on him one way or another; common folk admiring him; etc etc) and starting to.... live? again?

Shen Qingqiu hadn't noticed that, unconsciously, he no longer considered the disciples around him (...) to be mob characters the novel had described in a scant number of words.

^from volume one, he starts seeing them almost immediately because he's not actually that separate and he genuinely cares. all the time. about everything. even before that we get:

This was only a book, and all the people were constructs, imaginary characters. Logically, Shen Qingqiu was very clear on this fact...but when a character was actually being taunted and bullied right before his eyes, it was just flat-out unrealistic to expect him to be completely unmoved.

like why are you lying, shen yuan (<- svsss tagline if there ever was one)

just the idea of this really lonely detached guy finding a community, i know it's not the story mxtx was trying to tell but again, with the set up i really wanted to see it go in that direction.

there's one line from vol two where liu qingge goes "you fear becoming a burden to cang qiong mountain (...) but cang qiong mountain fears not your burden"

and basically what i'm saying is that i wish the story had been about THAT

(and also ning yingying's lines in that same chapter about shizun always taking on everything himself and why is it always you like that whole moment with the cang qiong mountain almost begging him to see that they care. idek what i'm saying but you know)

(also foaming at the mouth that we only got tiny tiny glimpses of shen yuan's life from before, those handful of times he mentioned his siblings i wanted to take a bite out of my kindle. tell me more!! dear fucking lord tell me more!! keep talking! elaborate!! he really felt very "kim dokja and his fourth wall" at times, sorry once more about the orv brain)

tldr: i guess i wanted a story about shen yuan/qingqiu but mxtx created svsss to be a story about bin/gqiu. and i just have to be okay with that.

[dragontamer05]

No lie I can't recall the last time I did like just one long continuous thread.

Like sure still doing small side stuff, asks ect but just idk but also letting muses grow and develop through one long continuous - and not always having to say resort to completely dropping if whatever currently is going on has run its course and instead just time skip with it but let it keep going.

And I say this as some one who is also 100% happy to time skip and jump around.

And hey you want to go back in time and explore a scenario that could have happened earlier in their relationship / knowing each other

or jump forward to something way later or even just explore a what if scenario that doesn't have to happen but could depending how things go/ how we feel about it ect

Hell yah love it all - trying to have some time line consistency is good obviously and as long as we can agree on even a loose idea of How they got to Y or where X fits and what not then sure.

Am fine with even the longest of threads eventually getting a wrap up if things simply happen to feel right in the moment and is what gets decided, doesn't have to be an infinite thread - certainly not about to force one to go on if its reached a point it kinda feels dead but idk call me easily attached but there's sometimes where I can still find / feels like their might be still potential to be found in a thread and all it needs is a bit of tweaking.

The chapter came to an end but the book isn't over kinda thing. Maybe all it needs is a small time skip / scene change but there's still things to be explored within said plot/scenario / whatever is going on with the characters - that would still also work/fit within said thread instead of separating.

Similarly but kind of reverse is I am equally as happy generally to return to threads that were long previously dropped/abandoned. Whether cause someone wasn't feeling it any more or simply we ran into a writing wall and at the time were lost on how to continue it so was better not to force it. But if something new comes along be it from plotting / just newer interactions or simply with having time away from it whatever the reason if a spark suddenly arises and hey suddenly what if we connected - old thread to new idea - or any other reason to want to answer/continue go for it.

idk mostly I this is was just a really long rambly way of saying how I miss long threads. Short quick snippets are fun and fine but 9/10 I promise i am very much interested and fine with carrying a thread for as long and far as it'll go.

[nieranddear]

Rereading the dialog that is said during suppressions. Abel specifically says 'Loved Ones' as he speaks about those in the upper layer's demise and their struggle and urging to stop as continuing on is futile. Abram says 'colleagues'. 'Coworkers'. He does refer to them as 'Friends' once as well. But every other dialog is about Carmen or generalizing and saying 'everyone' rather than specifics. It just feels odd a bit to where he uses less strong terms when referring to relations with people and then afterwards only refers to Carmen by name rather than those still existing beside him. Even when it was stated by a facet of A and others (I can only remember Hokma off the top of my head. It may be only him which would make sense) refer to A having seen them as specifically 'Loved Ones'. Which is a far stronger showing and expression of emotion to those around you.

It makes me think of how he, Abram, expressed his desires, the desire to die [see: 'sink'/'sleep' for he explicitly refers to death consistently as slumber and when bringing the dead back 'waking them up'] and stop, in that moment. He constantly brings up, in general terms, self punishment and Carmen. Guilt that is carried with Carmen. Memories of her death, her passing. Of how she left without a smile. Of how she can no longer bask in the warmth of the sun she loved to do so frequently. Yet only of Carmen in name. Never anyone else or specifics of people, generalizations when referring to others and referring to them all inside a group, as a collective. Them and then Carmen. Focused on only that. On the fact he cannot move forward. Urging to just shut the eyes and to simply Sink. To Sleep. To die. It reminds me of when one goes ahead and becomes so interlaced with suffering and grief and despair that one simply stews inside of it, spiraling down further into that single train of thought. Holding onto the image of a dead and deceased one. It feels as if, in a more crude way of saying it as I cannot formulate a different way currrently at the moment, searching of 'justification' and a fitting reason to commit suicide. [I say Justification as what I really mean to say a 'fitting reason', that reason and end seeming to Be the Only way to continue, or lack of continue, at that point to him.] Rather than saying the names or specifics of those around him, of his loved ones still inside those metal boxes, he becomes enveloped in grief and only on Carmen. Abram's mistake which he fixates the most upon. Holds deep guilt for. Blames himself for. Saying he drove her to her death. That he is leaving her behind [I didnt save the exact quote but it was generally that]. When those inside the facility are people he also so clearly values and wished to bring back as well he, at this moment, primarily focuses on Carmen. Even when he does address the others it's in a more brief manner, having two pieces of dialog on the Sephirot specifically and it only relating to his Faults relating to them than the people themself when he speaks of Carmen in a more in depth manner. Perhaps it's still the wish clinging of to not hold trust in anyone. But it feels reminiscent to when a person tries to push themself and gain 'courage' to commit suicide. Of focusing only on the guilt and regret and the mourning of one already gone, who was so near and dear whom he did all of this for in the first place his desire only stemming from her and not the project itself, especially one who also killed herself, to go ahead and die as well. Perhaps it's not even an active thing he does in his mind. It's just become so overbearing that he has now gotten stuck in that never ending loop. Using far more stronger language of the woman dead and gone who he wishes to rejoin than of those currently alive and near to him, making them feel far more distant than they actually are mentally – at least in relations and connections wise. Depression does tend to tear down what one feels towards their loved ones and how they process and view relationships causing for people to exhibit such a thing by feeling distant in a room or alone with a loved one nearby as commonly known – and physically. I'm not saying that's 'totally what it is' or the sort. More of that reading it over again just reminded me of such a thing. Nothing revolutionary but more ramblings to process it all after it ended

[waywardsalt]

is this anything

[hplonesomeart]

Old record player spin my beloved <3

[chuluoyi]

✎ wife

- gojo satoru x reader

in which the new batch of first years are unaware that their eccentric teacher's wife is the pretty woman roaming the school grounds

genre: fluff, crack, gojo being a silly little menace as always, yuji and nobara are confused, an attempt at humor, lovesick gojo, mention of breastfeeding

note: it’s so silly but i had fun writing this! based on a request by anon (thank you!) but i tweaked it a bit and partly inspired by this fanart. reader is also a teacher at jujutsu high and has a baby with gojo—loosely a continuation of protect

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

"Take that off immediately!"

"Kyaaah~! Yuji is here, you pervert!"

Yuji was a laughing mess. Megumi and Nobara collectively sighed. Nanami attempted to retrieve his once-immaculate suit, now a crumpled mess, from the one and only Gojo Satoru, who found humor in stealing his signature attire and impersonating the stern-faced Nanami in front of his fresh batch of first years.

"He is incorrigible," Nobara grumbled, her eyes slitting. They said that he was a strong sorcerer, possibly the strongest there was, but she found it really hard to believe.

Megumi threw her a deadpan stare. With many years of putting up with this kind of antics under his belt, he pitied her for not knowing that this was far from the worst. "Yeah, he is."

"How does anyone ever put up with him?"

That was actually a good question. "We don't..." Megumi paused, recalling each and every occasion where he tried to do so. "His wife is probably the only one who can."

Nobara sputtered, spinning towards him. "What the—wife? That annoying man has an actual, living, breathing wife?"

"Who? Gojo-sensei?" Yuji chimed in, jumping into the conversation, leaving the supposedly two adults in their catfight. Nanami was still clawing to get his suit back, and Gojo continued to giggle and evade him, playfully running away.

Nobara scoffed. "I bet the woman just married him for the money. He comes from prestigious clan, yes? That must be it."

Yuji felt his eyes would pop out of its sockets. "What are you talking about, Kugisaki!? What woman—"

"Shut up, Itadori! Don't be too loud!"

Nobara and Yuji's unharmonious ruckus irritated Megumi to the bone, and he decided that the best course of action now was to leave them all in the dust. With a glare and a shake of his head, he stalked away.

And thus the two new first years were left with half-truths that would lead them into a major misadventure later that day—

—which happened when they spotted Nanami with you, whom they were still unfamiliar with.

They were convinced that Gojo’s wife must be some sort of boring tramp eyeing his wealth and not this positively radiant, mature woman, and so ruling that possibility out, they positively swooned at the sight before them.

"He's irresponsible, egotistical—" snippets of Nanami's frustrated words conveyed enough to paint a picture of Gojo's character. He was definitely ranting about Gojo to you.

"Is that Nanamin's wife?" Yuji mused, a hint of pink tinting his cheeks. "She is so pretty..."

"They... look cute together," Nobara hummed with dreamy eyes, and then looked at Yuji sharply. "And yes, she's indeed pretty, but know your place, Itadori!"

"I know!"

Based on how the two of you interacted, they concluded that you must have been close, with the way Nanami visibly relaxed around you, and not as formal as he was with anyone else. They highly suspected that the two of you were married, as you wore a ring, which was the ultimate sign.

"And how's the baby?" Nanami asked then, directing the question to you with a smile on his face, prompting surprised gasps from both Yuji and Nobara.

You were glowing, to say the least, and when you let out a small giggle at his question, even both students couldn't miss the way your expression exuded pure happiness. "He is well. Ah, I really wanted to bring him along too, but he was a little messy after eating so I left him at home. You can see him later…"

Yuji gaped. "So it's true..."

"Oh my gosh... and they have a baby." Nobara almost squealed.

And that sealed it. The headline of the day: Nanami is married to this stunning woman wandering the school grounds.

So imagine their utter shock when the second time they found you, you were with Gojo, and he was shamelessly snogging you in the hallway.

“Why are you here?” Gojo was breathless after the soul-sucking kiss he smothered you. His tone remained playful yet carried a clear undertone of concern. "You're still on maternity leave. I'll make sure Yaga knows that."

“Satoru,” you whined, and the use of his given name made Yuji and Nobara gasp in disbelief. “I’m perfectly okay and I don’t need to breastfeed anymore. I should start getting back to work.”

Nobara seemed to finally understand the implication. But Yuji didn’t. His mind flitting from one scandalous idea to another—

Gojo-sensei seducing Nanamin’s wife? Nanamin’s wife cheating on him with Gojo-sensei?

In the brief period he spent with Gojo, Yuji realized that he didn't exactly have a reputation for decency. So despite himself, he could only muster up this one word: “Homewrecker. Homewrecker!”

Yuji’s shriek took all three of you by surprise, and now both you and Gojo were aware of his presence.

“You absolute idiot,” Nobara hissed, face-palming.

“Oh, Yuji? Nobara?” Gojo genially asked, his concern towards you quickly dissolved into a meaningful smirk on his face. “And what do you mean by—?”

Yuji yelped. “You! You are! You’re trying to seduce Nanamin’s wife!”

Silence. Gojo’s eyes twitched beyond his blindfold. You blinked. Nobara wanted to save herself from the second-hand embarrassment. And his loud voice caught the attention of Megumi too, who was close by.

“You seem to be mistaken. First of all, Nanami isn’t married,” Gojo said with a strained voice, maintaining his smile. He then gestured at you, showing you off with pride. “And this here, is my wife.”

“Y-your wife?!” Yuji exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger. “H-how?! I saw her with Nanamin! Talking about a baby—”

“That would be my baby.”

“But how?!”

“Yuji, do you want me to give you a crash course in baby-making—”

“Satoru!”

You sent him a glare and turned to the young first years with a smile. "You must be the new first years? I’m Y/N, and I’m in charge of the second years.” You gestured towards your husband. “And please, ignore most things he says. He’s a bit crass, and if you ever feel he's harassed you, don't hesitate to report it to me."

“Wifey! How could you!”

“Shut up, Satoru! You’re embarrassing yourself!”

“What are you doing here?” Megumi inquired with a deep frown, getting between Yuji and Nobara as they stared at Gojo in total bewilderment.

Yuji exclaimed in disbelief, pointing at you. “Fushiguro! Gojo-sensei’s wife is a beauty!”

“…I know that already.”

Nobara whipped her head towards him. "You knew?! Since when?!"

“They… took me in.”

“THEY WHAT?!”

Gojo grinned at their chorus of surprise. “And what a fine boy he turns out to be, eh?”

Megumi scowled, but Gojo wasn’t bothered at all. If anything, what offended him was—

"What makes you think my dear wife here belongs to Nanami instead of me?" he joked with a mock scoff, earning an eye roll from you.

Nobara and Yuji blurted out their thoughts simultaneously.

“They look good together?”

“Nanamin is dependable?”

Gojo gasped dramatically, one hand flying to his mouth. "So, not only do I not look good with her, but I also don't seem dependable enough?" He turned to you with the most aghast expression. “Tell me that isn’t true—”

You shot him a withering look, deadpanning, “Actually, you might be.”

And Gojo clutched his chest, letting out an anguished cry.

Epilogue

“Satoru… come on, you know I was joking.”

Your dramatic ass of a husband had his head on your lap, hugging your torso tight. The pout on his face hadn’t faded a bit ever since he was done with his class, and now on your marital bed, he was clinging to you with all of his might.

He shook his head petulantly, clicking his tongue. “You’ve embarrassed me in front of my students. You’re so mean!”

You sighed. “I’m sure you have made a fool out of yourself far often. This is insignificant.”

“Hmph! How could you say that?! I don't care if it's me, but I can't believe that it's coming from you! I shower you with my undivided love each and every day!”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Somehow seeing him like this made your heart lurch. He reminded you so much of your baby boy who was sleeping right in the next room that you couldn't resist smiling and pinching his cheeks.

“Okay, okay. My husband is handsome, looks good with me and definitely someone I can rely on,” you relented, and like a lightbulb going off, Satoru suddenly beamed so wide that you were certain his cheeks hurt.

“That’s more like it! Now, now, there’s only one way that can prove how responsible I am! Let me just fill you up with another baby—”

You smacked him on the head.

[katakaluptastrophy]

I think what's so interesting about Gideon as a narrator at the anniversary dinner is the fact that there's clearly tensions that she's just not picking up on because she's only there to eat a dessert.

But these people are all the immensely powerful leaders of the Houses and consider themselves to be in competition for literal godlike powers and the favour of the emperor.

There's so many little snippets that are potentially intriguing: why is Teacher trying to prime the Ninth to consider the Fifth a threat? Why are the Third and the Sixth "sizing each other up like prizefighters"? The Fifth absolutely knew what they were doing when they sat the teen heads of the opposing cults near each other.

Through Gideon's lens, Magnus' speech is a little awkward jokey thing. But...the seneschal of the House that is known to be actively trying to absorb another House is saying it's such a shame they're all so remote from each other and what do they all have in common (and it's so quiet you "could have heard a hair flutter to the floor") - that had to feel a bit different to people who aren't Gideon.

Palamedes' is dissecting the meaning of "Master Warden" and at one point compares it to a prison warden. 'Dulcinea' asking about whether Magnus and Abigail have children is perhaps less small talk and rather more pointedly political. Harrow's apparently stilted conversation with Protesilaus is clearly her actually probing his limitations like he's a bad Chat GPT-run chatbot.

And then 'Dulcinea' tells Gideon she liked the dinner because it was "useful". In her typical "I never lied to you" way, Cyth wasn't lying when she said Abigail had to die because of her hobby - Abigail Pent let loose on the Facility would have risked blowing Cyth's cover sky high. But what does a Canaan House look like where after the dinner party, the Fifth go down to the facility, get a key, and survive to continue their 'the Houses are going to get along or else' agenda? We've seen Fifth House soft power on a smaller scale in HTN: and it looks like inviting a teenager round for coffee, lulling her into a false sense of security with small talk, and then physically preventing her from leaving the room until she does what you want, while smiling the entire time. A series of little coffee chats could probably have led to a lot of cooperation in Canaan House, one way or another.

Gideon jokes about Silas marrying Ianthe because of their similar colour pallete, but it does raise the fact that there seems to be some tension around the Third, its succession, and the *point* of Ianthe. Why is Silas openly saying Ianthe should have died at birth? Combined with Judith's comments in the Cohort Intelligence Files about succession on the Third, it feels like there's something else being said here that Gideon isn't picking up on.

And of course, Harrow wasn't the only one desperate to become a Lyctor because her con was unsustainable. Presumably at some point Corona and Ianthe would be expected to marry, or at least take on more separate roles as Corona prepared to take over the throne and Ianthe was funneled off elsewhere. At some point, their package deal would have become unsustainable and Corona's cover would have been blown. But much as Harrow wants to become a Lyctor so she can reveal the state of the Ninth without repercussions, Ianthe is probably in part motivated to become a Lyctor for the same reason. Because otherwise, what would Ianthe's expected role have been? Amidst the suggestion of anxiety about the Idan succession, the dinner party also presents the fact that the reason Abigail and Magnus' infertility isn't a succession crisis for the ruling family of the Fifth is that Abigail's younger brother dutifully married in his early 20s and had kids. We know there are branch families in Ida - Babs is from one. He may be a prince, but he's not treated well, and you do get the sense that the stakes to stay in power in Ida are high.

We don't learn anything about the political situation in the Houses themselves during HTN or NTN, but in the wake of Canaan House, you have to suspect there are a number of tensions and concerns.

[fanaticsnail]

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward. 

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines. 

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket? 

Because he was a good boy. 

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need. 

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper. 

Well, his exploits at least. 

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him. 

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed. 

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most. 

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.” 

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips. 

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved. 

And you said it. 

You finally said it today. 

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind. 

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand. 

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you. 

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find. 

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own. 

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words. 

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either. 

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence. 

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound. 

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return. 

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?” 

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet. 

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for. 

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step. 

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him. 

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude. 

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words. 

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips. 

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips. 

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't. 

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture. 

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles. 

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor. 

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.  

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart. 

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment. 

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime. 

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe. 

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted. 

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles. 

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into. 

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye. 

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface. 

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention. 

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words. 

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders. 

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office. 

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.” 

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone. 

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor. 

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you. 

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess. 

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming. 

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat. 

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more. 

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence. 

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment. 

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze. 

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading. 

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves. 

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile. 

“Good boy.”

[apocalypse-shuffle]

BLACK NOIR | EARVING (the boys)

—

“Promotion” (Black Noir x Fem!Reader)

| Being Black Noir’s new handler and him becoming obsessed with you since Mr. Edgar himself assigned you to him.

| SFW, vought employee!reader, (TW: Noir is kind of stalking the Reader, who’s uncomfortable but adapting mostly)

| 1k+ words

“You want me to…what?”

“Be Noir’s new personal handler.” He fans his hands out on the table with a shrug and gives you a disarming smile. “You’ll be expected to parlay direct mission instructions from me, accompany him to said missions and stay with the deployment team. I expect you to give written reports on his performance at the end of every day, active mission or not…”

Your eyes continue to widen as his barrage keeps going. This job would require you to be present for everything short of Noir wiping his ass and even then you’ll be outside the restroom.

Mr. Edgar finishes, gives you an expectant look, and you clear your throat.

“And, what if I don’t want the new position?”

“I don’t see why not.” He shrugs, “I mean unless you don’t think you’re good enough for the promotion. Then I suppose I’ll just have to tell Ashley her recommendation was for naught.”

You laugh.

“No no, that’s fine. There’s no need to tell her anything…” you gulp, watching the man just look back at you before taking a second more to inhale, “…ex-cept that her recommendation payed off.”

He tilts his head and it feels like his eyes are boring through your own, boiling your brain to mush. Your voice is small as you push the rest of your words out in one exhale.

“And that I’ll be starting my new position tomorrow. Sir.”

You stretch a smile across your face and hiss out a sigh of relief as that finally gets the man to respond.

He instantly reanimates, reaching atop his desk to hand you a secure black portfolio made from hard plastic.

“That’s great. I’m glad you decided to take on this new journey, Ms. L/n. May it serve you well. Have a good day.”

You don’t dare drop your smile as you take the offered portfolio and shove it under your arm.

“Right.” You take a moment to mourn the loss of your old job before nodding, “Thank you for the opportunity, Sir. You have a good day as well.”

The older man nods back at you, attention immediately gone back to his computer monitor afterward. You blow out air from your nose and then turn on your heels.

It’s not until you’ve left the board room that it hits you.

“Shit.”

The man had just played you. Goddamn Edgar and his resoluteness. Once he’d decided to “ask” you about the upgrade in position he never intended for it to be an actual request.

You rub your temple and head to the restroom. At least you had the rest of the hours in the day before tackling your new job.

You hunker down in the stall after peeing to look over the papers Mr. Edgar gave you. As you're skimming through a whole lot of shit marked “classified” or “redacted” you have the stray thought to be glad that Translucent’s creep ass wasn’t here to ogle you and be all in your business anymore.

Thank the higher power for small mercies, you suppose.

All the snippets of information you're gathering are kind of baffling. Legal name: Earving (of all things), biological male, six foot two, African-American (that’s fun; may be the reason he took such a liking to you too, not many black people made it to the top floors of Vought after all). You dog-ear a packet about some sort of imaginary animals he sees in his mind before looking over a page about a severe peanut allergy. Hmm.

By the end of the day you’ve nearly gotten all the way through Noir’s portfolio, and you’ve also worked up an itch to get out of your skin that means you’re not working overtime worth a goddamn.

At six o’clock on the dot all of your crap is already quite thoroughly packed, your former workspace - barren thing that it already was due to regulations - was cleaned out and ready for the next poor soul, and you’re in the elevator heading for the sub-level garage.

Dead stare locked onto the floor numbers you become acutely aware of the bags weighing your eyes down.

“Fuck,” you sigh.

Black Noir's Personal Handler.

Despite Mr. Edgar’s clear efforts it was more than a little known open secret that personal handlers rarely got to retire. Madelyn Stillwell’s death might’ve been something none of you dared discuss for fear of either Edgar or - heaven forbid - Homelander catching wind and putting you back in your place, but it was a pattern of the job that you all were well aware of.

Though you’d take Mr. Edgar’s culling over whatever Homelander could possibly come up with.

Something about his blonde, blue-eyed, ass didn’t sit right with your spirit.

Far as PR and wrangling went though, short of maybe Starlight, any wrinkles Black Noir managed to make would be the easiest to smooth out.

Plus, even with you and Noir having some form of a pre-established relationship it was in no way dependent or built upon you being Noir’s emotional epicenter like Madelyn and Homelander’s weird…dynamic was.

You had seen and heard far too much in your years working for Vought to think for a second that there wasn’t something dark and twisted going on with The Seven, but Noir still seemed mellow in comparison to the rest and their constant ego trips and dick measuring.

You had zero clue how letting the fully covered man teach you a few notes to a song at the Christmas party when everyone was drunk off eggnog and watered down booze and sitting with him when he was crying on the floor once led you to this.

Sure the silent man and you had somewhat hit it off - so far as you were one of the few non-supers he didn’t intimidate or just flat out ignore - but to be made so intimately in charge of him seemed like a bit much.

Noir had seemed endlessly patient with you as he played for you and then eventually decided he’d teach you how to play the piano yourself, the sides of your bodies’ shifting incrementally until you were pressed flush to one another in both of yous concentration, so you could really only hope he kept that same levelness with you as his handler.

You bank the corner, work bag and portfolio on the same arm, and fish out your keys so you can unlock your trunk and shove your shit inside.

Hope truly was the name of the game here unfortunately. You could only hope Noir kept up his “good” streak, and that that streak wasn’t just a farce that you were now in charge of covering up. Hope that he didn’t end up getting angry or reckless and making you one of those *redacted* cases with a ‘cause of death, unknown’ attached to your name, because you could do nothing to stop him if he wanted to kill you.

Shiver racking up your spine and turning your blood to static, you snap your trunk closed, turning to leave when—

“—Fucking Christ!”

Eyes gone wide and spit having nearly choked you from your sharp inhalation before your exclamation, you do your best to appear composed as Black Noir himself steps out from a conclave of shadows to stand in front of you.

The Devil, you find yourself thinking. Had he been following you this whole time?

For his part Noir doesn’t move aside from cocking his head to the side.

Steadily, you force calmness onto yourself. Ignoring that your voice is too high when you call his name.

“Black Noir,” you say, trying to seep the professionalism back into your tone while smoothing down the creases in your pantsuit, “surprised to see you here. What can I do for you?”

The smile you offer him feels wonky even as you command the muscles up, but it’s the best you can do with your heart hammering against your chest as if it wants to run off and leave you behind.

For a couple more beats the man doesn’t do more than size you up presumably before finally - as you were weighing the pros and cons of just getting in your car despite his presence - raising a hand to point at your trunk.

You catch on to his meaning fairly quickly, your smile dropping to something more natural whilst you huff a tiny laugh.

“Oh yeah, guess Mr. Edgar must’ve told you. I’m your new handler - you know, if you had one before that is. I don’t…actually know…” you trail off, shifting on your heels when Noir only continues to keep his stillness.

“Mhm,” you mutter, rocking backwards, just staring until finally Noir shifts and there’s suddenly a pad and pen in his hand.

He flips casually to a clear page before starting to write and you’re fairly sure this is the first time he’s ever actually ‘talked’ to you.

Huh.

Not long after does the pad get flipped over and brandished to you. You click your teeth together.

‘Edgar says you’ll do good,’ he scribbles, writing absolute chicken scratch and letters far too large on the medium sized pages, before flipping the pad back to himself and writing some more.

‘Believe in you!’ and a whole bunch of smiley faces is what meets you once he lets you see.

You blink. Noir puts the pad back wherever he had it initially to give you two thumbs up.

You muster a slightly bigger half smile for his efforts.

“Thanks Noir,” you say, words more sincere than you’d been expecting.

A nod and an eternity more of silence and staring is what he gives you in response.

You’re getting ready to shift, to awkwardly relay that you’d like to be getting home soon, when Noir stiffens suddenly - and isn’t that startling, a man so tall and so strapped with sharp explosive deadly things going so alert like that - head tilting like he’s listening for something.

A few seconds go by like that where he doesn’t do anything else and you fight to keep yourself still, smile gone and part of your lip caught firmly between your teeth.

Then Noir’s giving you a nod and leaving just as silently and unseenly as he had come.

You wait another two-three beats before scrambling into your car. The sound of your lock engaging sounds like salvation and the steering wheel feels like a lifeline as you grip it with stiff nearly foreign fingers.

God.

You force a deep breath into your lungs, make sure it comes out more steadily than it came in.

At least Mr. Edgar didn’t dump you onto Homelander’s lap. Something in you shrivels up and dies at the mere prospect. You nod, your hands flexing on the steering wheel.

This was definitely better.

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

This is a semi companion story to “Pandora’s Melody” if you’d like to check that one out as well.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it!

[theyluvkarolina]

౨ৎ LOSS ౨ৎ

masterlist / rules / requests & talks with me!

SUMMARY౨ৎ it was a rough weekend to say the least. sadie's first tennis tournament didn't exactly go as planned in her mind. how does oscar handle his little girl being to down with herself?

PAIRING ౨ৎ Not really a pairing, but reader makes multiple apperances 🩵

WARNINGS ౨ৎ sadie being a perfectionist :( (me tbh)

A/N ౨ৎ I HAVEN'T SEEN IT FULLY BUT I SAW SNIPPET OF IT 🥹 i can see this happening 100% 🩵 (minus the karting! little sadie is a tennis player in the future 😋) small little imagine for today before i do school notes!! (sadie is about 7 here!)

Part of the Dad Oscar mini-series 🩵

Two sets. Two sets was all it took to get eliminated from her first tournament final.

Sadie sat in the backseat of the car, arms crossed and gaze fixed out the window as the ride remained quiet, with Oscar glancing at her in the rearview mirror, noticing the way her lips pressed together tightly.

She wasn’t one to cry easily. If anything, she hates crying. But at this point, the lump in her throat was undeniable.

Oscar gave a sigh before speaking, “Sadie, you did great. You know that? Getting second in your first ever tournament is amazing.” he smiled softly.

“If i did great then I wouldn’t have lost.” Sadie replied bluntly.

He took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. God, how he wished you were here right now. You’d know what to do. “Sadie, you didn’t lose, you came second. And that’s something to be proud of.”

“Second is first to lose.” Sadie replied, rather quickly as she fiddled with her fingers while looking out the window.

Oscar gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, the weight of Sadie’s words hanging in the air. He understood her frustration all too well, but it was hard to see his little girl already feeling the pressure of expectations.

“I get why you're upset, Sadie,” Oscar started, glancing at her in the mirror. “I really do. But you know what? I didn’t win all the time either, especially not at the beginning of karting. It takes time, and every time you play, you’re learning something new.”

Sadie didn’t respond right away, her eyes still fixed out the window, but Oscar could see the slight frown on her face.

“And you know, you always keep the memories with you,” Oscar added softly, remembering what he had said in that interview not long ago. “Every match, every race, every time you give it your all—it stays with you. It’s not about always being the best. It’s about getting better and enjoying what you do.”

“Do you always remember the times you lost?” Sadie asked quietly, her voice breaking the silence as she turned to look at him.

“…Some more than others.” Oscar replied.

“What about wins?”

“Everyone remembers when they win.”

“Even your first win in Hungary that the team messed up the pit stops making the whole race behind Lando and when lando didn’t change positions until the very end?” Sadie asked, tilting her head slightly with her blunt tone.

“…You know, you’re making this really hard for me to comfort you now.” Oscar blanked.

“I know,” Sadie replied, the corners of her lips twitching up ever so slightly, despite her sadness. “That’s why I said it.”

Oscar couldn’t help but stifle a laugh, “Well, thank you for that, Sadie… but seriously,” Oscar said, his voice softening again, “I know it’s tough, but you should be proud of yourself. It’s not about comparing yourself to me, or anyone else for that matter. Tennis is your thing. It’s your journey. You love playing, right?”

Sadie’s frown deepened. “…mhm.”

Oscar noticed Sadie’s eyes wandering to the tennis bag in the backseat, her small fingers tracing the strap. Her thoughts were clearly elsewhere, but he took the opportunity to continue. “Nothing comes from nothing, Sadie. It’s okay to be sad and want to do better, but don’t ignore the amount of effort you put into it.

Sadie was quiet for a moment, her little fingers fidgeting with the hem of her shirt as she mulled over Oscar's words. "But it’s not enough," she muttered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Oscar's heart squeezed at the sight of his daughter, so young and already feeling the weight of expectation. “Sadie, you don’t have to be the best at everything right away," he said gently, “and you don’t have to be as good as me, either… besides, I’m barely any good at padel, let alone tennis.”

Sadie finally turned to look at him, her expression serious. “But you’re always good, Daddy. Everyone always says how great you are.”

Oscar bit his lip, trying to think of how to explain it in a way she would understand. “That’s because I’ve been doing this for a long time. Sadie, you’re young. You have time to grow.”

Sadie stayed quiet, though her frown softened just a bit. Oscar smiled softly, taking that as a sign to keep going. “You love tennis, right? That’s what matters. If you enjoy it, you’ll keep getting better. And guess what? I’ll be there to watch every match.”

“You really think I did good?” Sadie asked hesitantly, her voice smaller now, as though she was afraid to believe it.

Oscar nodded, catching her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I know you did. I was watching, remember? Every single serve, every single shot. You didn’t give up, even when it was tough. That’s what makes you great.”

Sadie finally met his eyes in the mirror. “But I wanted to win.”

“I know you did. But you’ll have more matches, more chances. It’s okay to be sad now, but you should also be proud of what you did today.” Oscar paused before adding, “Plus, second place means you’re already better than most people on the court.”

That earned him a tiny smile from Sadie. "I guess.” she mumbled, her hand resting on her tennis bag.

“Now… ready to show your Mum your trophy?”

`· . ୨୧⭒๋࣭ ⭑

“Second place? …In your first tournament?” You asked, stopping what you were doing to look at the pair that just returned home.

Sadie stood next to Oscar, her tennis bag slung over her shoulder and the silver trophy cradled in her arms. Her gaze was still shy, as though unsure whether her result was something to be proud of.

Oscar gave you a small, knowing smile, as if to say, Please help me here.

You knelt down, meeting Sadie’s eyes as she shifted on her feet. “That’s amazing, Sadie!” you exclaimed, your voice full of pride. “Second place in your first ever tournament? That’s incredible!”

Sadie blinked, as if she hadn’t expected your reaction to be so positive, her lips parting in surprise at the compliment, making her cheeks slightly redden. She looked at you for a long moment before glancing at Oscar, who place a hand on her shoulder. "But I wanted to be first…" she whispered, her voice trailing off.

"I know," you replied softly, nodding in understanding. "And that’s okay. It’s good to want to win, but it's also okay not to win every time. What's important is that you did your best, and look—" you pointed to the trophy in her hands, "you still achieved something incredible. Second place out of all those players? That’s huge."

Sadie’s eyes finally lifted to meet yours, and you could see the tension in her shoulders ease a little, though she still looked unsure. "You really think so?" she asked, her voice small.

“It’s not just me.. we know so.”

Oscar watched the exchange, his heart swelling as he saw the tension ease from Sadie’s small frame. You always knew exactly what to say.

“Now,” you said, pulling back slightly and smiling at her with a playful glint in your eyes, “how about we put that beautiful trophy somewhere special? I think it deserves a place on the self, don’t you?”

Sadie nodded, her earlier disappointment fading away bit by bit. “Yeah… I think so.”

Besides, there was still more that the future holds.

[louisferrignojr]

hello 911blr here's another little snippet of my fake dating au. it's going so slowly. but at least it's going!

Buck catches his attention pretty much right away − Tommy’s gaze is immediately drawn to his ridiculously plump, pink mouth, before taking in the rest of the picture. He’s frowning at the camera, almost like seeing his own reflection mirrored on his phone’s screen through the front-facing lens is offending him, somehow, and why would this guy choose that picture to be front-and-centre on his dating profile? Still, his messy, curly hair, and the scruff on his jawline, and − the ridiculous lips − are hard to resist. Tommy taps to check out the rest of his pictures. In one, he’s clean-shaven, wearing a white hoodie, smiling so big and bright, his gaze somewhere behind the camera, probably fixed on whoever was taking the picture; then there’s another frowny selfie right after that, taken inside a car, with a seatbelt across his chest and a black Labrador resting his little head on the guy’s shoulder, and okay, that’s fucking adorable. Tommy can’t help but smile − but that only lasts until he reads the guy’s bio.

hello grindr i’m not gay (but i’m an ally!) anyway i need a fake boyfriend to be my date to my parents’ stupid anniversary party because they told me not to bring “another new girlfriend” so i’m just trying to comply with their request :-)  in return you will get an all-you-can-eat-buffet and open bar. or anything else you want (short of sexual favours)

Yeah, that tracks. These wholesome-looking guys always come with at least one red flag. And this is a fucking massive one. 

Tommy bites down on his lower lip and tells himself he’s not actually thinking about messaging, but he knows he’s lying to himself. He tries to weigh the pros and cons for all of five minutes before he thinks, fuck it, and decides to send a message. What’s the worst that could happen? With a deep exhale, Tommy taps on the little message button and types out the only logical opener he can think of.

tommy: if you can prove you’re not a catfish, i’m more than happy to be your fake date

buck: how do i prove i’m not a catfish? buck: you can look me up on instagram. i’m buckley92

tommy: hah, nah, that won’t do. it’s gonna have to be a dickpic i’m afraid. with today’s newspaper of your choice.

buck: who the fuck is still buying newspapers buck: fine. give me half an hour

Tommy puts his phone aside with the biggest grin on his face. If nothing else, it’s been entertaining, at least so far. He still doubts this guy is real, or his request for a fake boyfriend isn’t just a thinly veiled excuse for a curious-but-still-firmly-heterosexual guy to go venturing in the most notorious dating app for queer men − which is entirely unnecessary. 

He gets to his feet and goes about cleaning up the mess in the kitchen he’s been successfully ignoring for the last 24 hours, and puts a load of laundry on, knowing he’s running out of clean underwear, and he’s settled back on his comfy couch, ready to dive back into Small Town Horror when his phone pings with a new notification, and Tommy grins when he sees it’s another message from Buck.

It’s a selfie of the same man from the profile pictures, and instantly Tommy exhales with relief. He looks a little different in this picture; younger, somehow, and it might have something to do with the haircut he’s currently sporting, and the lack of product in his dark blonde hair, letting the curls loose. Tommy wants to run a hand through his hair, but he files that away into a far away corner of his mind, as his gaze drops to the dramatically pouty expression on Buck’s face. He’s holding a copy of Los Angeles Times, which has the words “TOMMY FROM GRINDR MADE ME DO THIS” written across the front page in thick black marker. There’s a message sent right after the selfie that reads “will this do or… do you still need the dick pic?”

tagging some interested people

@osh-my-prince @apartmentsmoke @repressedqueen @jewishbuckley and i can't remember who else i might have talked to about this???? if interested in future updates drop me a comment and i'll tag you🫶

[iid-smile]

★ nobody knows — bachira meguru

꠴ bachira meguru x gn!idol!reader

content: secret relationship, bachira calls you 'baby', not much happens tbh, word count: 0.3k-ish

there's not a single fan that isn't aware of bachira's crush on you, an up and coming idol who recently returned to the stage after a long break.

he's been your number one fan since day one. he (allegedly) was the first person to buy your physical solo album, (allegedly) has shown up to all of your concerts that were shoved into impossibly tiny buildings, and (allegedly) owns all of your merchandise known to exist.

he's not afraid of making his admiration for you known, yet you seem to turn a blind eye on the entire situation.

it's remained like that for a while. on multiple occasions has he been seen doing little snippets of your dances during celebrations, or reciting lyrics of songs that date years back no matter who's around. still, seemingly no word or response from you.

and here you are, sat in front of your phone after multiple back to back performances. it's difficult trying to keep up with the fame, exhausting yourself out to satisfy the demand. you stare at the surreal amount of people watching you live, the number only increasing as you read the comments for something, anything to talk about.

the instagram live only started minutes ago, and you've answered too many questions to count. alone, you've probably mentioned how your day was fine at least twice every minute, skipping over some less than appropriate remarks.

"i should eat?" you lean forward towards the camera, fiddling with the rings decorating your fingers. "i'm going to. i was planning on getting something delivered after this, but i think some of the staff ordered desserts. i think it might be—"

"baaaaaabyyyyyyy~!" clear, distinct, and loud. your one and only number one fan, bachira meguru's voice coming from another room.

you pause, and your reaction said it all.

you quickly turn, closing the door to the small room you were in. it was quite literally one of the worst times for your boyfriend to be looking for you. putting on an innocent smile covered nothing up from what happened seconds ago, and a notification from your manager telling you to shut things down didn't make you feel any better.

in a panic, you bid your goodbyes to your fans, your wave turning slightly frantic as the live disappears.

that day, everybody knew that bachira was dating his favourite idol. your silly, supportive boyfriend managed to out your entire relationship without even knowing.

a/n: how long is too long before you put a cut? 😧

[dragonbarbie]

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐆𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑 | Part 1

aegon x best friend!reader ; modern!au

summary: this fic is snippets of aegon and reader's relationship as they grow up and discover new feelings. but to let himself be loved, aegon has to first do some growing up.

rating: 18+, minors dni.

tags: alcohol, substance abuse.

word count: 4.2k

series masterlist

next part

A/N: i'm so excited to share my first full fic! this series is very very lowkey inspired by one day and highkey inspired by peter by taylor swift. comment if you'd like to be on the taglist for this! hope you guys like it :)

divider credit @ cafekitsune!

Age 10

“I still don't see why we had to move here." a sullen, 10 year old Y/N replied, pouting as she stared out the window from the backseat. her father couldn't help an amused smile at the little girl as he drove towards her new school. "i told you darling, daddy’s got a very important new job here in king’s landing." "yes but why did I have to move here." the older man let out a patient sigh. this had been going on weeks leading to their move. "you haven't even given the city a chance yet, kiddo. why do you hate it already?" "because..." the little girl started with an exasperated whine. ".... i don't have any friends here!" "you have me." her father offered with an assuring grin. the unamused look he got in return was not grateful in the least. "you're dad. i want friends." the seriousness with which Y/N declared her dilemma earned her a laugh from the front seat.

her father pulled into the curb by the grand iron gates of Red Keep Academy, the best private school in the city. as Y/N hopped out the backseat, looking deflated, he lowered the car window, "hey c'mon now, you can't start your first day all sad. who knows, maybe you'll come back with a hoard of friends, even more than you had back home." Y/N only looked ahead at him, unconvinced. "bye, dad."

as she made her way towards the main archway to the school, she thought of all the things she was missing about home. not the new townhouse they had in the city, her real home, back in the reach. she thought of the swing behind her house, the smell from the bakery next door, the big oak tree she saw on the way to school every morning, the fountain in the park – when suddenly someone ran past her, fast enough to knock her down.

"ouch!" she cried out from the floor, rubbing her shoulder where she had been hit. "aegon!" a woman suddenly rushed to her side, glowering at the little boy who had pushed past her. "are you okay, honey? were you hurt?" the first thing Y/N noticed was how kind the woman looked with her big brown eyes, and so very pretty. "i'm okay." she reassured in a small voice, before turning to give this 'Aegon', the dirtiest look she could muster.

the boy had to be her age, pale blonde hair that looked like someone had tried to comb it but had not been given enough time to finish the job. he wore a matching school uniform to Y/N, navy blue blazer, white shirt and dark green pants. his shirt though was untucked and seemed to already have mud stains.

she thought he seemed mostly unbothered by his own actions, but stood there attempting to look sheepish nonetheless for his mother.

"apologise to this young lady." his mother demanded. "sorry..." he mumbled almost incomprehensibly. already upset and now physically hurt, Y/N wordlessly got up and hurried away, trying to stop hot tears from spilling out.

as she walked away she heard the boy's mother scold him, "that was not an apology, Aegon. go say sorry, properly this time." she heard a childish groan in response, "do I have to?".  his mother must have given him one hell of a look, Y/N thought because she heard her say nothing else but small footsteps came jogging up to her.

as the blonde boy walked next to her, she waited for him to say something while she kept walking ahead, but he seemed to just wordlessly fall in stride with her. After a minute he suddenly asked, “do you even know where you’re going?”

now that he mentioned it, she didn’t.

she suddenly stopped and looked around herself, confused. He stopped with her and studied her for a second. “I don’t know you.” He observed. “are you new?”. She decided to stay silent, hoping he would go away if she ignored him but she was wrong. When she didn’t respond, he continued, “you’re going in the wrong direction, new girl. That way –” he pointed to where she had been headed “—is the middle school building. Primary school is this way.” He started walking down a hallway, and Y/N took hurried steps to follow him.

He gave her a sideway glance, “what grade are you in anyway? Third?” he smugly asked, proudly looking down at her as a mature fifth-grader. “fifth.” She snapped at him. “oh”, he responded, surprised. “who’s class?” “Miss Reyne.” “no kidding!” he gave her a toothy grin. “so am I.”

Y/N didn’t like this Aegon, she decided. As he kept chatting away about how boring Miss Reyne was, she gave him no replies and generally walked as if she were alone and had no association with the silver haired boy beside her. As they settled into class, she was determined to avoid him for the rest of her day. Aegon though, was determined for quiet the opposite.

He took a seat next to hers, kept making comments, providing her a running, private commentary about each teacher and student. He wasn’t affected by Y/N’s lack of a response, or if he was, he didn’t let it show. Y/N had to admit though, he was funny. she couldn’t help but crack a smile when he told her about the time Jason Lannister got gum stuck in his hair, and had to suppress a giggle when Aegon impersonated Mr. Bolton falling asleep mid-way through teaching a class. At these small instances of Y/N’s guard breaking, he flashed her a bright smile, pleased with himself.

Y/N though, didn’t utter a word to him. Until Art class that was.

They had been asked to paint an animal, and when Y/N looked up from the goldfish she had been painting, she saw Aegon’s work. “a dragon isn’t a real animal.” She disproved. The boy merely shrugged, “that’s not an animal either, it’s a fish.”

“a fish is an animal.” She frowned at her work. “it’s just an animal under water.”

“oh well, let’s add some of its natural habitat then.” He smirked, grabbing the bowl of water they’d been sharing to clean their brushes. “NO! stop!” in an attempt to block him from pouring water on her work, the brush in her hand smeared some of the yellow paint on his face.

He froze in his action immediately, bringing up his fingers to feel the paint streak running down from his brow to across his nose. This time Y/N couldn’t suppress her laughter at the sight, his blinking expression making it all the more funnier. “well, if that’s how you want to do this!” he declared as he scooped some of the red paint on his two fingers before smearing it on her cheek.

Within five minutes, their respective art works had been abandoned and both sets of uniform utterly ruined. The two had to be separated by their teacher, then ordered to walk down to the washrooms and clean themselves right up.

The second she left the girls washroom though, Y/N found the silver haired boy waiting for her by the door, some green paint still visibly stuck in his pale locks. “race you to class?” he mischievously suggested. “Hmm” Y/N pretended to think about the challenge for a second, before saying “okay” and dashing towards their class.

With a self-satisfied smile at having beaten Aegon, she took her seat. Sulking at his defeat, Aegon slinked back in his chair, “you cheated, didn’t wait for the ‘go’…”

“win’s a win.” Y/N declared, grabbing golden glitter for her fish. 

He didn’t stay grumpy for long though, before she knew it he was back to his talkative self, this time with Y/N chiming in with her own comments. The hours flew by with Aegon by her side, and as the day came to an end Y/N realised she’d enjoyed herself after all.

As they walked towards the school gate to leave, Aegon suddenly changed the topic. “you like video games?” “yeah…?” she hesitantly replied. “great, you’re coming over tomorrow to play some.” He beamed. At the end of the sentence Y/N observed he hadn’t actually asked her a question. “okay.” She found herself agreeing.

“cool, see you tomorrow.” Aegon had started running in the direction of one of the cars, when he suddenly stopped and turned around. “never asked your name.” he sheepishly realised.

 “Y/N!” she distractedly answered as she sped up, having found her mom’s car in the parking lot.

“Y/N…” Aegon muttered to himself as he walked away, liking the way the name rolled of his tongue.

Age 15

“You’re late.” Y/N didn’t even bother to look up when she heard the window to her bedroom open, but did glance at the subsequent sound of someone falling face first onto her carpet. “have you been drinking? Its 2pm.”

Down on the ground laid her best friend of five years, with his messy platinum hair and stick-thin lanky limbs, carrying in the distinct smell of smoke when he entered her room. Though they were the same age, aegon looked more boyish still even as he had started to race towards every vice of the adult world he could get his hands on.

Aegon merely rubbed his now injured nose, as he lifted his head off the ground. “No I haven’t been drinking… still drunk from last night. Big difference.” Y/N sighed and shook her head in vexation before returning to her homework.  Aegon had recently taken up drinking and despite Y/N’s repeated rebukes, he seemed to be enjoying himself a little too much to stop. He continued to wave off her concern and she was starting to tire of voicing it.

“Let’s say I believed you… you wanna tell me what made you so late, then? I do have other things to do with my day than wait around to teach you biology, y’know.” Aegon grabbed a chair and dragged it to sit next to her at her desk. “I was actually busy being taught biology as it happens… albeit of a different kind.” His smug, self-satisfied grin as he pulled a cigarette from his front pocket  and placed it between his teeth, told Y/N all she needed to know. “Elinda Massey was the most enthusiastic of teachers.” Y/N couldn’t help but grit her teeth at the mention of Aegon’s latest distraction.

With a swift motion she grabbed the cigarette and threw it in the bin, ignoring his protests. “you know you’re not allowed to smoke in here, my parents would kill me if they smelled it.” Aegon snorted at the statement, “yeah but, that’s never stopped me before.” The casualness with which Aegon dismissed her, pinched Y/N. It was certainly true that Y/N usually found it hard to say no to Aegon, no matter how the consequences might harm her; but she didn’t like how he took the same for granted, as if it was a given.

“What’s got you all prissy today?”

“you. You wanna pass biology this year or not?” Y/N replied, visibly irritated. “yeah like there’s a chance in hell they’ll actually fail me. Grandfather would have the place shut within the week.” “then why do you even need a tutor? Go off with Elinda or whoever.” Y/N huffed, her eyes remaining trained so hard on her textbook that she was half certain she was going to burn holes into it, her hand clutching around the pencil in her hand.

“Elinda? That’s what you’re so annoyed about?” aegon snickered. Y/N turned to now glare directly into his blue eyes, a blush creeping up her cheeks and her nostrils flaring. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to push aegon right out the window he came from so she could be alone instead of having to deal with this. “No, I just think you’re wasting your time here right now, when you could be doing…. Biology with Elinda instead.” Aegon brow furrowed at her reaction, but instead of another retort his hand reached out to gently grab her arm. “hey…” his features softened from their usual impish nature to highlight his concern “…what’s actually up with you?” in the face of such kindliness from him, she couldn’t muster any more scathing replies.

He’d seen right through her, like only he could. For weeks now she’d been stressed, but found the topic too awkward to discuss with Aegon. But she knew she’d have to open up to him sooner or later about her problem. Keeping secrets from Aegon was simply not something she did. Or even possibly could if she tried, she thought.

“promise you won’t laugh.” She first demanded in a nervous tone. Raising his three fingers, her best friend solemnly confirmed, “scouts honour.” She swallowed, her eyes looking beyond Aegon’s shoulder rather than at him as she slowly admitted. “I’ve not had my first kiss.”

Aegon merely blinked back at her, “what, is there supposed to be more to that or…?” “I’ve not had my first kiss.” She repeated as if those words were supposed to be self-explanatory. “yeah and I’ve never been to the Summer Isles, what’re you on about?” Y/N couldn’t help a groan as she momentarily hid her face behind her hands, thinking the more she would explain herself the more embarrassed she would get.

“It’s just, I’m 15, and I should have had it by now, I’ve never even been on a date.. and… and… and you’ve got Elinda and Maria before that, and Jeyne and, and…. I just can’t believe you’ve gone to third base before I’ve even had my first kiss!” her words came out rushed in the end, out of frustration and a need to just get the shameful confession over with.

She had expected Aegon to laugh it off, or worse, agree that her situation was absolutely the height of shame. Instead, he looked confused that such a thing was bothering her in the first place “what, that’s it? why didn’t you just say so before?”

nonchalantly, aegon put an arm behind Y/N’s chair. Eyes closed, he suddenly leaned in towards her, lips puckered, causing her eyes to go wide. “what the –” as a reflex response she pushed back at his shoulders, making him fall of the chair.

“the fuck was that for!” he shouted from the floor, his ego and back bruised.  “why did you try to kiss me?” Y/N was shocked, horrified even, at the prospect. Aegon was her best friend, she couldn’t even imagine looking at him in that light. it was Aegon, he was simply too familiar for her.

Aegon raised his hands out as if the answer was obvious. “you said it yourself you wanted to have your first kiss!”. Y/N’s nose scrunched up, “not with you!”.

“well how was I supposed to get that! Fuck me, I’ll never understand you women”

“‘you women?’” at that, Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. This scene before her, this response by her best friend was too ridiculous. Yet, she noted as she offered a hand to help him back up which he grumblingly took, this was very much in character for Aegon. She knew he always wanted to help her, he might not have always understood how to go about it, but his heart was in the right place.

“I don’t need you to fix it, aegon.” She affably told him, a faint grateful smile on her face for her friend’s valiant effort nonetheless. “yeah, no-shit, because there’s nothing to fix. You’re not broken, Y/N.” Y/N didn’t know that she needed to hear those words until Aegon said it and it felt as if a burden was lifted off her shoulders.

“Don’t get me wrong. Doing all this, the kissing and the more-than-kissing, it’s fun. Honestly it’s so, so much fun, like I can’t even—” “you wanna get to your point?” “–so it’s great and all but, not doing it doesn’t mean you’re any less for it. You’re still Y/N, you’ll always still be Y/N to me.”

The anxiety she had been feeling, the fear of being left behind and the worry about other’s judgement, even her own – it all started to look so small and insignificant when Aegon told her she was still the same to him. This was her only constant in life, this bond between her and Aegon, the one person she couldn’t hide who she was from. In that moment, she felt glad to have him by her side.

“Besides if you were ever truly that desperate, you could always just try Jace. he’s had a thing for you like forever” Aegon revealed, rolling his eyes in apparent annoyance of the fact. Y/N though, couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Jace… has a thing for me?” The thought of it seemed to please her, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as a red blush started to creep onto her cheeks once more.

Aegon looked disgusted at her response, and grimaced, “yeah okay, no need to flatter yourself too much …. It’s Jace.” He stuck his tongue out at the distaste of the thought of his best friend with his nephew. Y/N didn’t pay him any attention, having taken to doodling hearts in the margins of her notebook while engrossed in thought. Aegon immediately regretted having said anything, snatching the notebook from under her hand, “alright are we going to do some biology or what?”

Age 17

Y/N had been fast asleep when the familiar sound of pebbles against her window awoke her. she looked at the time on the watch as it read 2:17 am, quickly rising from her bed. there was only one person who had to be out there, and she knew why too. her heart sank, knowing already that aegon must have had another fight with his father. she opened the window and as expected, aegon targaryen precariously balanced his steps on the tree branch just outside.

"aegon, what are you doing? It's late," she whispered-shouted, trying not to wake her parents but already held out a hand to help him in. "Needed to see you," he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. She wanted to chide him for endangering himself by climbing up so high when he’d drunk so much, but looking at his condition she decided to stay quiet. He climbed into her room, stumbling slightly as he landed. Y/N caught his arm, steadying him. "You've been drinking again," she said, more as a statement than a question.

aegon’s normally sparkling blue eyes were unfocused, his silver hair dishevelled. He'd grown taller of late, she missed the days when she could stand shoulder to shoulder with him. she now had to look up at him, as she put one of his arms around her shoulder to guide him towards the bed as his own steps fumbled.

“He doesn’t get it, Y/N. None of them do. To him, nothing i've done or will do matters for shit. i'm just not the son he wanted. he regrets me, i can see it in his eyes, I—”  a sob escaped his throat, cutting him off mid-sentence.

She gently sat him down on the edge of her bed, his weight pressing down on the soft mattress.  As she looked into his sad, bloodshot eyes, she harboured such hatred for Viserys as she thought impossible for anyone else to hold. she kneeled down in front of him, her heart breaking to see him so.

"I know, i know. But you can’t keep doing this, aegon. If you keep drinking like this, you could seriously hurt yourself one of these days." and she didn't think she could survive that.

she reached out to hold his hands in her own. "You don't have to do this alone. I'm here for you. Always." if aegon heard her, he gave no indication, instead staring at their intertwined hands.

"can I crash here tonight?" he suddenly asked, looking more innocent than she'd ever seen him as he lifted his eyes to look up at her. Gone was the bravado and arrogance that was usual of him, even expected. In that moment he looked more lost than ever, and was looking to her as if she was his only hope for shelter.

she knew her parents wouldn't be thrilled about this impromptu sleepover, but then again she'd never had the ability to deny him anything. "of course," she tenderly smiled.

he kicked off his shoes and moved back up the bed, still holding onto her hand, pulling her with him. he lied down on her pillow, refusing to let go of her hand as he closed his eyes to fall asleep. he looked so peaceful, Y/N couldn’t help but reach out her free hand to run it through his hair in admiration. She wasn’t blind, she knew how handsome he looked, causing the girls to flock to him like moths to a flame. But his looks were just an objective fact to her, she never found herself attracted to him in the same way as the girl at school. But somehow in the pale moonlight, he looked more beautiful than she’d ever seen him, and it caused her chest to swell overwhelmingly.

she looked down to notice he'd opened his eyes again. "Don't leave," he mumbled, his voice thick with exhaustion.

"I won't" she promised, pulling the blanket over them both. he nodded in satisfaction of her reply, nestling against the crook of her neck, his breathing evening out as he drifted into a fitful sleep.

Sleep evaded Y/N though, on the one hand she was wracked with worry over Aegon and his drinking habits, on the other.... she could feel his breath tickling her neck, as his one hand held her own while his other wrapped around her waist, his feet entangled with hers. his body pressed to her own under the covers, making the cramped space on her single bed too hot. Aegon had never been this physically close to her, this vulnerable. she thought how his safe space, the place he ran to when he wanted an escape was her, same as he was for her. it had always been this way, yet, in the darkness of the night she sensed something had shifted between them. she couldn't name it yet, though.

The next morning, when the first light of dawn seeped through the curtains, aegon stirred. He blinked, confusion clouding his eyes at his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was the familiar face inches from his own "Y/N?" Y/N merely hummed in response, only now starting to stir awake. "what... how did i get here?" he asked looking around the room, startled. He lifted his head as he realised he was all but laid out on top of her, before moving away to lay on his back. He looked down to find his hand had cramped from holding onto hers all night, immediately releasing it. Y/N rubbed the sleep from her eyes as she responded, "what d'you mean?"

"i mean what am i doing in your bed at the crack of dawn." aegon looked earnestly confused, Y/N realised, which worried her.  "You came here last night," she slowly replied, watching his face carefully. "You were drunk. Do you remember?"

aegon frowned, rubbing his temples. "No... I don't." he suddenly looked at Y/N, "Did I do something... did we...?" he motioned to the space between them, his brow raised. Y/N sat up from her bed in alarm, "oh, no, nothing. of course not." she reassured him. she tried not to look too wounded at his relieved expression "good, good." he nodded, staring up at the ceiling.

"you had a fight with your dad and wanted to crash here. do you not remember coming up here last night?" "I don't remember anything really. last thing I do remember is opening one of the bottles from the wine cellar and then" he shrugged. Y/N frowned at his response, "Aegon, have you started blacking out?” her stomach tied itself in knots, feeling anxiety over this new development. But she felt as if she was the only one who understood the gravity of the situation.

she searched for any fear in aegon’s eyes, but only found apathy and disinterest. he seemed unconcerned, merely rolling onto his side and closing his eyes, lazily stretching himself out to get comfortable to fall back asleep.

“do you understand what that means? it means this is getting dangerous. This is no longer all for a good time, Egg.” She attempted again, this time raising her voice to catch his attention. It seemed to fall on deaf ears.

"wake me up for lunch, yeah?" he yawned, drifting back to slumber within minutes.

A wave of anger washed over her, she wanted to knock him off her bed or  hit him with a pillow in frustration over his own self-destructive ways. Did he not understand the ending he was currently headed towards? Did he not care how this going to affect him, affect her? She was tired of being the only safety harness keeping him held back when all he seemed to want to do was jump into the abyss.

“fucking… suit yourself.” She stormed off the bed to head out of her room, shutting the door behind her loudly.

[pimosworld]

Pairing-Joel Miller x f!reader 

Summary- Joel’s a grump when it’s hot and also when he gets jealous. 

CW- 18+, No outbreak au, established relationship, mostly fluff, grumpy Joel, reader is not described, possessive Joel, family dynamics, illusions to smut, joel is down bad for reader. 

  WC-1.9k

 A/N- I can’t wait for summer so I wrote this little snippet into the life of the Joel I think about often. May do a spicy part two if the mood strikes me. 

[Main Masterlist][Joel Miller Masterlist]

Not beta read

Dog Days

He told you he’d behave. Begrudgingly and with promise that you’d make it up to him. That’s the only thought he clings to as he sits in this lawn chair that’s too small for him. The only seat away from everyone else so he doesn’t have to do the small talk thing. He can still see you though. Sun kissed and smiling at something Maria is saying. 

  He still doesn’t know how you do it, how you make it look so effortless even on the hottest day of the year. His shirt clings to him and he’s sweating in places he wouldn’t speak of out loud and you just stand there all heaven sent like it’s a different temperature in your world. 

  Your world bled into his before he knew what hit him. He started to enjoy sunsets and stopped to smell the flowers, because that’s what you liked to do and he quickly learned that anything that made you happy made him feel like the most fortunate man in the world. He’s fortunate to have you every morning, waking up curled into his side as you steal sleepy kisses along his chest and his arms. He pretends to be asleep for as long as he can until he’s so worked up he has to make you come at least twice before you extract yourselves from the bed. 

  That’s where he wants to be right now as he stares at some prehistoric bug that’s landed in his warm beer, flailing and hoping someone can put him out of his misery much like he hopes after being dragged to this godforsaken barbecue. Despite it being his own brother he would have gladly come up with any excuse not to be here. He loves his family but sometimes he couldn’t stand Tommy. 

  ‘Who has a party on the hottest day of the year?’ You laughed earlier as he grumbled about in the kitchen helping you pack away the things you prepared in the cooler. 

  ‘He can’t control the weather Joel. You know he’s excited about the new house.”You with your rational thought and kind heart. 

  ‘Who’s side are you on Darlin?’ He caged you in against the counter as he ran his hands up your thighs. You shiver under his touch and he knows it wouldn’t take much to convince you to stay home. 

  Your hands meet his as you pull them up higher, bunching your dress a little to reveal those cheeky shorts he couldn’t get enough of. You wrap his hands around your waist as you run yours up his arms and around his neck. His chocolate brown eyes are glazed over as you slowly put him under some trance. Your lips kiss that spot in his beard as your nails scratch at his scalp and he has to brace himself against the counter to keep himself grounded. ‘I’m always on your side Miller.’ 

  “What’s up with you brother?” Tommy slaps his back bringing him back to this fresh hell. A man can’t even day dream in peace. 

  “It’s hot.” He grumbles and goes to take a sip of his beer before he remembers and chucks it out on the grass. 

  Tommy licks his lips as a smirk pulls across his face, no doubt thinking of something to say that will have Joel flying off the handle. His niece is running towards them with the same look on her face to save him from his impending death. Wild black curls bouncing in her face to match her parents. 

  Tommy holds his arms out for his daughter but she crashes her small body into Joel as the weight of her hit causes a small creak in the lawn chair. A muffled hi uncle Joel is said into his shirt as Tommy stands there defeated. “You stayin out of trouble?” 

  She just shrugs her shoulders and offers her hand out to him. An ice cold Diet Coke she’s barely able to get her little hands around. A mystery smudge is on her shirt and her pants have seen better days. Tommy wanted a boy but he was pleasantly surprised when her little personality started to take hold and he quickly realized he had his hands full with this one. Her two front teeth are missing and the smile etched across her face is a mischievous one. “Thanks sweetheart.” Joel takes it from her, it’s still cold despite having traversed the lawn and been subjected to the warmth of her hands. He’ll wait a moment to open it, no doubt jostled as she ran over here. 

  “My mommy said you look hotter than h e double hockey sticks.” 

  “Izzy!” Tommy snaps at her and Joel can’t help the laugh that bubbles up. 

  “What…I spelled it. I didn’t say Hell.” She rolls her neck and he swears he can see Maria in that moment. 

  “Isabella.” Tommy’s voice drops an octave in warning as she backs away slowly with her hands raised. 

  She reminds him so much of Tommy when he was younger. It’s only fair that he gets a taste of his own medicine. When Joel met you the decision had already been made that you didn’t want kids and Sarah was almost in college and Joel didn’t want to start over. It was a relief to find someone that could love his child so fiercely despite it not being their own. Izzy came barreling into their lives shortly after Sarah left and you loved that little bundle of joy like it was the last thing on earth. 

  There’s little hints of you in her sprinkled throughout your time together. Her insistence on correcting people and their grammar, the way she defends others although you told her she should try to use her words more after she punched some kid on the playground for bullying a smaller kid. Joel may have had a hand in that one. 

  Joel cracks the can as Tommy drones on about repairs that need to be done to the house. He already knows what his brothers’ getting at and he doesn’t even need to ask…of course he’s going to help him take on whatever project needs to be done to get the house in order for the new baby. He knew Tommy was nervous before Izzy arrived and this brings on a whole new level of responsibility. They were so grateful they’d found a house down the street from you and Joel with just two months to spare before this new bundle arrived. 

  He takes a sip of the bubbly cold drink, the sweetness is slightly off. You swore he wouldn’t be able to tell but of course he can. His doctor told him to cool it on the sodas and he made the mistake of telling you. You care so much…too much. You called his brother and Maria and now they’re watching him like a hawk so he has to sneak the ones with real sugar like a junky getting his fix. 

  In the brief moments he’d been graced by Tommy’s presence he lost sight of you. His eyes scan the large backyard, the kids playing in some dirt mound, some guys from the job site ribbing each other by the grill. You and Maria are by the cooler with some mystery man while you rub her swollen belly. His eyes roam down your body as you bend over to lay a kiss to it and whisper sweet words to your soon to be niece or nephew. 

  You stand and try to adjust the strap on that dress he loves so much. You’re always complaining about how the straps never stay up and he supposes you keep it just for him. He’ll have to remember to burn it when you get home as he grits his teeth and watches the man get an obvious look down the front of your dress. 

  “Who’s that?” Joel juts his chin toward the end of the yard as Tommy squints his eyes. 

  “Don’t.” 

  “I just asked his goddamn name Tommy.” He huffs at his brother and he just shakes his head. The heat was already getting to him before and now it’s at a fever pitch. 

  “His name is James, we just hired him.” Tommy holds his arms out in a mock satisfaction and Joel’s not in the mood for his theatrics. 

  “We? Hired him.” Joel shifts and he hears the chair creak again. He stands up abruptly not wanting to be flat on his ass because of his brother's crappy lawn furniture. 

  “Yes Joel…remember you put me in charge of staffing the site?” 

  Joel just hums under his breath as he crosses his arms over his chest. He’ll have to remember to start vetting the candidates again if this is the type of people Tommy’s got working for them. 

  The man is crossing the lawn towards them with a presidential smile and Joel’s already pissed. He greets Tommy and offers his hand to Joel as he begins to introduce himself. 

  “James is it?” Joel squeezes the man's hand a little too tight as he winces. Tommy retreats not wanting to be a witness to whatever Joel was going to say or do. At this point he knew there was no stopping him. 

  “Mr. Miller, it’s nice to meet you.” He doubts that and he can tell by the look on his face that he’s already sorely regretting walking over here. 

  “You don’t really have an eye for jewelry do ya?” Joel cocks his head waiting for an answer, an easy trap to set for a simpleton like James. There’s no right answer. Not when he’s got his teeth sunk into him. “See I noticed almost immediately that there’s a ring on your finger.” He gestures to the man’s hand and holds up his own. “You didn’t seem to notice my wife’s hand when you were eye fuckin the shit out of her.” 

  “Hi Honey.” Your sweet voice hits his ears as your hand travels up his arm, working your way behind his neck to rub that spot that seems to always make him deflate. 

  James uses this momentary distraction to run away with his tail tucked. 

  “You behavin?” You purr at him as he drops his head down to let you run your fingers through his hair. 

  “Always sugar.” His words slurred a little as he succumbed to your touch. You’re like a sedative the way you seep into his veins and put him in a trance like state. 

  He can’t see your eyebrows raised at him as you scan the backyard for the offending party. “Come on Miller, let’s get you home and cool you off before someone gets fired.” 

  He starts to speak but you shush him with your finger placed gently on his mouth. A quick glance over your shoulder and you lean up kissing him deep. It almost takes him by surprise how you still have this effect on him. No longer concerned with the heat or the stress at work or his brother’s constant annoyance. You can silence all those thoughts with just a taste of your lips. You break away when you hear the whoops coming from Tommy and Joel grumbles under his breath. 

  The strap on your shoulder slides down and you sigh a little as Joel runs his finger underneath, feeling your smooth skin turn to goosebumps. It’s intoxicating the way he knows he has that same effect on you. He’s smirking to himself as he reaches behind you and adjusts the strap, getting a glimpse down the front and the soft swell of your breast. 

  “Looks like you and James have something in common.” You laugh as he scowls at you, the kind of laugh that has tears at the corner of your eyes. 

  “Don’t push it darlin.” 

Comments and and reblogs are much appreciated

[joequiinn]

The Dos & Don'ts of Fake Dating | E.M. x reader | pt. 12

[chap eleven] | [all chapters here] | [chap thirteen]

Story Summary: You propose a crazy idea to the resident freak of Hawkins, Eddie Munson. But maybe he was even crazier for agreeing to it…

notes & tropes: fem reader, slooow burn, faking dating, opposites attract, bratty rich bitch reader, super minor revenge plot, dysfunctional family dynamics, idiots-to-lovers

a/n: We're back people!!! This chapter has some big ol' drama that I wasn't expecting to write, but boy do I love every moment of it. This is also a little heavy on the ~*~ice princess family lore~*~, so... sorrynotsorry, I guess? This stemmed from my friend and I bemoaning people being mad at ice princess, and then the idea spiralled from there. Can't wait to see what y'all think!

wc: 8.0k

Chapter Twelve

Waking up to the sunlight streaming in through a window, you grunted in annoyance at its offending rays - you always loathed waking up with the sun, preferring all curtains to be drawn while you slept. Your ears began to instantly ring with a headache, and you burrowed deeper into the blankets, curling into a tight ball and twisting your face into a childish furrow.

God, you felt awful. Not even conscious for a full minute, and you already felt like complete shit; this hangover was instantly relentless, drumming in your skull and causing intense pressure behind your eyes. You were so not looking forward to the rest of the day - just your luck, you’d be battling this hangover well into the evening, hell, maybe even into tomorrow.

You realized amidst your suffering that you weren’t lying in your comfortable bed, the surface beneath you too rigid and bumpy, the blankets too scratchy, the pillow too flat. Considering that you were out at a party all night, you weren’t at all surprised that you ended up asleep elsewhere, so you didn’t bother opening your eyes to gauge your surroundings. No, your only concern right now was getting at least a few more hours of shut eye, but the aching of your body and the pressure in your skull was sure to deprive you of that small joy.

With incoherent grumbles and sighs, you tried to get comfortable again, but everything was working against you - the material of your clothes was suddenly unbearable, the makeshift bed you were in was rock hard, the sunlight was too bright despite the blankets pulled over your head. This was going to be absolutely unbearable. You knew better than to drink that much, and yet you did it anyway, like you always seemed to.

Hell, you couldn’t even remember anything past your impromptu walk with Eddie. You vaguely recalled dragging him to his feet and insisting that you needed to work off some of your energy and clear your head, and apparently drunk-you decided a hike around the lake was the best way to manage that. You could remember snippets of the walk - you were sure you spoke about your parents, that at some point you two sat alone by the bonfire. But everything from that point on was completely lost to you - you’d have to ask Eddie to fill in the blanks, unless he was also so drunk that he forgot what happened.

As you thought about your partner-in-crime, your expression furrowed thoughtfully, so with an exhausted sigh, you stuck your head out of the blankets just enough to open your eyes and peer around. For a few long moments, your vision was just a blur, the glare of the sunlight proving to be anything but helpful; once your eyes had finally adjusted, you were staring at a wall - more specifically, the interior of Eddie’s van.

You two slept in the van? Shit, that explained why your body was so achy, you had barely any cushion between you and the rough metal floor. With another histrionic sigh, you attempted to roll onto your back, but your shoulder almost immediately met Eddie’s solid body, preventing you from moving. So, instead, you turned your head to look at him, the two of you practically nose-to-nose. Despite yourself, your cheeks grew a touch warm; you weren’t quite spooning, but you may as well have been considering how close you were, how Eddie’s legs curled up a little behind yours.

Given your proximity, it was challenging to even get a good look at Eddie’s face, but you nonetheless studied him for a brief couple of moments - his curls were in his face again, tempting you to push them back, but his expression seemed restful. As you stared at him, the assault of your hangover faded away for a split second, but it just as quickly came back, the drumming in your skull growing more aggressive. Your face twisted again as you turned forward, trying to settle back down under the blankets as your brain rattled. As you curled the sheets around you, you accidentally bumped Eddie with both your shoulder and your rear, your heel booting him in the shin, but he didn’t stir even slightly at any of the disturbances. So, you relaxed with a deep sigh, allowing yourself to rest back against him.

Eddie’s steady breathing against your ear was surprisingly perfect white noise, your eyes fluttering shut as your body slowly relaxed. Despite the headache and the ringing ears, you managed to fall asleep again in a huddle of blankets and limbs beside him.

The rest felt short-lived, however, with Eddie eventually jolting awake, as if he’d been falling in a dream. The sudden motion, of course, awoke you instantly, and with a startled look you turned towards Eddie, your head spinning wildly from the quick motion; you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your hands to your head as you waited for your brain to settle back down. Once you opened your eyes again, you met Eddie’s confused gaze; your close proximity caused his eyes to cross briefly as he focused on you, and you watched as the cogs slowly turned in his head. Despite how deeply he’d been sleeping, he still looked exhausted.

“You okay?” You asked hoarsely, cringing at the sound of your own quiet voice. Eddie still seemed confused for a moment, but he nodded slowly, looking around the van with a furrow that suggested his ears were ringing just as badly as yours.

Eddie slumped back onto his makeshift pillow with a moan, closing his eyes as his breathing mellowed out. You lazily leaned your head against his shoulder, your slow inhales and exhales beginning to synchronize with his as you stared up at the ceiling. You could feel his body tense a little, so you shuffled away a few inches - you were never a touchy person to begin with, so that small act of leaning against him was strange even to you.

For a few long minutes, you both lied there in silence, neither of you quite ready to act human considering your hangovers. You eventually looked at Eddie again, watching his expression - he’d go from calm to afflicted, from disoriented to content. He most definitely wasn’t doing good right now, and he was probably trying to recall the missing parts of the evening as well.

You inhaled deeply as Eddie finally turned his head to look at you again, his expression contemplative as he studied you. The corner of your mouth pulled up in a lazy smirk, causing Eddie to stare thoughtfully at your lips long enough that it made you squirm. You bit the inside of your cheek, growing edgy under the acuteness of Eddie’s eyes; there was something about his stare that was a little too intense for your liking, so you looked away again to calm yourself.

“Hungover?” Your voice croaked again, but you felt the need to say something - Eddie being quiet was uncommon, and in this moment it made you a little anxious. Eddie simply hummed in confirmation, the sound gravelly much like his morning voice. You took a breath, feeling mild annoyance although you knew it was unwarranted, “Me too.”

Eddie’s gaze still burnt into you, and it was beginning to grow irritating - again, you shouldn’t have let his silence bother you, but there was something about it that you didn’t like. Or maybe you were just feeling bitchy because you were hungover. So, with a tired frown, you looked back at Eddie, giving him something of an irked look. He seemed to realize it was in reaction to his silence, so his expression softened as he took a moment to collect himself.

“Sorry…” He grumbled in a small tone.

You offered a grin, unable to stay annoyed with Eddie considering that you both felt like total crap right now. But nonetheless there was a tension between you two that you couldn’t quite place, so you attempted to tease, “You get grouchy after a night of drinking?”

Eddie smiled back, although the look didn’t quite reach his eyes, which flicked back down to your lips, “I think I drank my weight in booze.”

Your smile grew a little wider. You pressed the palms of your hands onto your forehead as if that would alleviate some of the hangover pains you were feeling, closing your eyes again, “Then I must’ve had double mine.”

Eddie huffed out a laugh, and you two lied there in silence for a few long beats.

“Why are we in the van?” You asked while opening your eyes, though you kept your hands hovering over them as if to block out the sun. A surprised confusion crossed Eddie’s face, a reaction that felt a little bigger than necessary considering your seemingly harmless question.

He licked his chapped lips, blinking rapidly as he tried to mask his befuddlement, “You don’t… remember last night?”

There was hesitation in the way he asked the question, and your brow knotted as you studied his face for a few moments. You didn’t always drink so much that it led to memory loss, but when it did, you were generally left in utter confusion, especially once you were told all the ridiculous things you may or may not have done while intoxicated.

“Last thing I remember was… walking? We went on a walk or something, right?” Eddie nodded, the despondent look in his eyes nearly distracting. As you considered it, worry washed over you, and you felt embarrassed without knowing the reason why, “Oh god, don’t tell me I did something stupid. Your face is saying I did something stupid.”

At that comment, Eddie’s cheeks grew pink, and the quick shake of his head wasn’t particularly convincing even as he answered, “Nothing stupid.” You narrowed your eyes a little, so he nervously elaborated, “We talked a lot. Probably about stuff you wouldn’t have said sober.”

You hissed under your breath, knowing that you could be a handful when you drank. You looked up at Eddie through your lashes, tempted to ask for him to explain what exactly you talked about, but at the same time you weren’t sure if you actually wanted to hear. At least not yet. The knowing look in Eddie’s eyes suggested that he remembered nearly everything about last night, but wasn’t about to share unless asked. So, of course, you assumed the worst of yourself, trying to go down the list of all the wild things you’ve done in the past during a night of drinking - did you repeat any of those habits, or did you do something worse?

With a sigh, you tugged the blanket back up over your head, as if hiding would relieve you of the shame you may have caused yourself last night. You heard Eddie laugh to himself at the action, and although he couldn’t see your face you glared in his general direction.

“You really don’t remember anything?” Eddie asked as if he were seeking a specific response, clearly aware of something you weren’t; hell, there was almost something downcast about the question. You slowly pulled the blanket down far enough to expose your eyes, looking at Eddie in question.

“Why’d you ask it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re not telling me something important.” You narrowed your eyes in scrutiny, trying to gauge Eddie’s reaction to your words. He was doing his best to play it cool, something that could’ve fooled you only a couple of weeks ago. But you’d learned enough about Eddie at this point, and when he scratched the back of his neck it confirmed that he was feeling a little edgy right now - so, that definitely was a nervous habit of his.

With a set jaw, Eddie gave you a convincing look, “Nothing to do with you.”

Your brows went up as if to ask “really” and Eddie matched the expression, an insistence in his gaze, evidently wanting you to drop the subject. As if to put you at ease, he smirked a little, and although you may not have entirely believed him, you also didn’t want to think that Eddie would lie to you about it. So, you accepted his answer, sighing tiredly as you disappeared under the blankets again; your body felt so damn heavy, and your head was spinning again.

“God, I wish I could lie here all fucking day.” You grumbled, your voice muffled slightly by the layers on top of you. You just knew that the moment you tried to sit up or move, you’d feel queasy and the drums in your head would become unbearably aggressive. Maybe you could convince Eddie to just stay here in the damn van, maybe you two could just sleep off your hangovers; you’d both probably be better for it.

Eddie shuffled around next to you; it seemed like he was also getting comfortable again, but you couldn’t be quite sure. He pulled at the blankets until he was under them with you, lying on his side and tenting the sheets with his hand so that he could continue looking at you. The lazy, tired smile on his face made you feel warm, and you nearly laughed at how silly and intimate this felt - the two of you hiding out under the sheets as if that would keep the world from ever disturbing you again. You rolled onto your side to face him, studying him as he studied you, his dark eyes continuing to linger on your lips.

“We can lie here all fucking day.” Eddie repeated your words reassuringly, causing you to grin back as your body relaxed.

“Then we’re going to - I feel like shit.” You answered while snuggling into your pillow, closing your eyes while attempting to get comfortable.

“You and me both, princess.” Eddie muttered back, as if he, too, was trying to mellow out enough to fall asleep again.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Considering that you had no idea when you woke up the first time, it was absolutely disorienting to wake up again around mid-afternoon. You’d managed to sleep most of the day away, something you’d almost never done before. Both you and Eddie were begrudging the fact that you had to return to reality, that you had to act human again and get yourselves home. You tried not to think about the lecture you’d get from your parents or how your head was still pounding or how you somehow had to be functional enough to go back to school tomorrow. All of these things were easy to ignore as you two lied there in the back of the van for a little while longer; it wasn’t until Eddie finally backed out of Rick’s driveway and began the trek back to your place that the dread began to set in.

Despite fearing you’d puke all over yourself now that you were in motion, you managed to keep it down, although Eddie had to pull over for you once when the nausea got particularly nasty. As you took deep breaths to compose yourself, you’d wished that the two of you had the forethought to grab some water and aspirin from Rick’s before leaving. As if reading your mind, Eddie pulled into a gas station a few minutes later and quickly ran in to grab bottled water, which you both promptly chugged down.

The drive was otherwise passed in relative silence - you were both fighting your headaches, so that was reason enough to stay quiet, but there was also something you observed in Eddie’s energy that seemed disinterested in conversation. You certainly weren’t going to push it, at least not today, but there was an uncharacteristic standoffishness about him that you couldn’t ignore, that got you wondering what was going on in his head. You kept staring at him, trying to recall anything about last night that could have put him in a mood, but your mind was drawing a complete, frustrating blank.

As Eddie drove through your neighborhood, a wave of disappointment washed over you - you really weren’t in the mood to face your parents, already knowing it would be bad. When Eddie picked you up last night, you practically sprinted out the door, avoiding the both of them out of fear that they wouldn’t let you go to this party. At the time, you didn’t care that you’d eventually be confronted with questions on your whereabouts, but now that it was nearly upon you, you were absolutely dreading it, cursing your past-self for putting you in this position.

So, when Eddie pulled in front of your driveway and you saw your uncle’s car there, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach, the ringing in your ears escalating to an unbearable tone. Tom’s car meant that whatever was about to happen was far worse than you were expecting. He never came around the house on Sundays, those were his days for golfing or fishing or some equally as dumb “man” hobby; if he was here, then it meant your mom must have called him, probably in a melodramatic panic about your running off last night.

As you stared at the vehicle, your dread mounting as you began to feel queasy again, Eddie spared you a confused look, identifying your worry almost immediately. He gave your shoulder a light nudge to draw your attention back, and head-on you looked even more trepidatious than he originally thought.

“I think I’m about to be in deep shit.” You said plainly, trying to mask your hesitation. Eddie’s face twisted with confusion, obviously not aware of what you were referring to, but being nonetheless concerned for you.

“Want me to just drive off?” Eddie joked in a measly effort to put you at ease. Unfortunately, it didn’t work in the slightest, no matter how badly you wanted it to. Your brows rose in warning.

“That’s my uncle’s car.” His face dropped into a similarly worried expression, looking quickly between you and the house.

“Shit.” He didn’t need you to explain any further - having encountered your uncle while the man was on-duty, Eddie was more than aware of the kind of imposing jackass he could be.

And that didn’t even take into account how much you personally detested Tom - you loathed him for the way he talked down to you, the way he pretended to tease you when in reality he was just being cruel. Since your fourteenth or maybe fifteenth birthday, you’d made every effort to ignore him or make excuses whenever he was around; he was absolutely unbearable. How your mother could stand growing up with him, you’d never know, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

As you watched Eddie - who continued to stare at the house in consideration - he suddenly hissed and shrank down in his seat, clearly being spotted by someone. You whipped your gaze back towards your house, spotting your uncle Tom in the front window with his arms crossed, clearly watching the two of you with a critical eye. You, too, couldn’t help but shrink in your seat a little, although you knew it wouldn’t do you any good.

“If I’m not at school tomorrow, assume I’m dead.” You cracked without even a hint of humor in your voice, sharing a fearful look with Eddie. You began to adjust your belongings in your arms, readying to open the door, but Eddie’s arm shot across your front to stop you, his hand resting gently atop your collarbone.

“Are you going to be okay?” You were nearly dumbfounded by the level of concern in his voice, as if somehow he knew all the unsaid hatred and fear you had of your uncle. For a few long moments, you and Eddie simply stared at each other, and you gave him an almost sad look.

“I have to be.” You responded simply, putting your hand on his arm and lowering it away from you, “Get going, Eddie, I don’t want him dragging you into this.”

“I’m supposed to just leave you to the vultures?” He was about to say something more, but his eyes flicked past you and out the window, his skin paling a little in alarm. Without looking back, your heart started pounding rapidly - you knew for a fact Eddie was looking at Tom right now.

Before you could turn to look, the passenger door was yanked open, taking you by surprise as a meaty hand grabbed your elbow. You let out an affronted sound as you steadied yourself so you wouldn’t fall right on your ass, Eddie practically leaping across the seat to assist you.“Get the hell outta here, kid.” Tom’s aggressive tone addressed Eddie as if he were scrum, while you were all too easily pulled from the vehicle. You let out a sound of frustration, yanking yourself from his hold and shaking your arm of the slight pain he caused you. You whipped around to glare at Tom, pressing back against the side of the passenger seat to keep as much distance between you two as possible.

“You can’t just drag me out of a fucking car!” You nearly surprised yourself with your fiery tone, though you seemed to always resort to aggression these days, not nearly as level headed as you once were. Tom, too, gave you a provoked look that made you shrink just a little.

“Do you know how worried your parents were!?” He retorted, his fists tightly clenched at his sides, “Another hour and we were gonna report you as a missing person to the police!” His eyes flicked back towards Eddie, making you wish you could stand tall between them like a human shield, “And you. The hell are you doing hanging around with my niece? What, being a little punk at the station isn’t enough for you?”

You spun around to give Eddie a warning look, hoping that maybe he’d speed out of here before things inevitably got ugly between you and your family, “Eddie, get out of here, please.”

He’d been staring boldly at your uncle, doing his best to hide his alarm and unease. At your insistent request, he met your eyes with a seriousness that took you by surprise, “Like hell I’m gonna leave.”

Your heart skipped anxiously, your gaze almost pleading with Eddie - this wasn’t his battle to fight, this wasn’t his problem to fix. You just wanted him to go, to pretend he wasn’t seeing the skeletons in your family closet; for a second, you felt shame that he was seeing this part of your life that you so carefully kept to yourself.

“Get in the house.” Tom spoke between his teeth, and you couldn’t help the scoff in your throat as you looked back up at him.

“You don’t have any say in what I do.” Beyond his shoulder, you could see your parents on the front step, your father with one foot forward as if prepared to approach you any minute now. Your mother stood back, biting her nails on one hand while looking around nervously, as if fearful that neighbors may be watching, “Look, I’m home, I’m fine, so will you get over it?”

“That attitude isn’t going to fly with me.” Tom’s voice was laced with venom as he crossed his arms as if to become even more imposing, “Do you know how many stupid girls go missing all because they don’t tell their families where they’re going?”

You rolled your eyes, your gaze darting between Tom and your father, who was finally walking towards you.

“I’m not a stupid girl, and I wasn’t gonna go missing.” You said insistently; at that same moment, you heard Eddie’s door open and slam shut, causing you to panic yet again. You shoved past your uncle as you saw Eddie rounding the van in your peripheral vision. You quickly put yourself between him and your family, your back to them as you put your hands up to Eddie’s shoulders, “Please don’t…”

You weren’t sure what you thought Eddie was going to do, but it nonetheless had you worried. Your family was too temperamental, too cruel, and you didn’t want him to bear the brunt of it. He didn’t need to do any of this, didn’t need to help you, and his insistence on staying with you was causing far too much confusion in your head right now.

The worried look in his eyes were nearly staggering as he looked down at you, “I can’t just let you take this--”

“All this fuss for him?” Your father’s accusatory voice forced you to turn around again, meeting his harsh glare. With all this chaos going on, you were getting fucking dizzy. Your father made a disappointed sound, shaking his head, “I don’t believe this… Are you just doing this to upset us? You run around without telling us where you are, you skip school, you talk back - all because of some drug dealing satanic punk?”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you, an exasperated, pissed off sound as you threw back your head at the ridiculous generalization of the man standing behind you, “Eddie’s the most harmless person I’ve ever met. You should be more worried about him than Eddie.”

Your eyes shot towards Tom, your brows practically pointing at him with accusation. The look on his face was condescending in response, and you crossed your arms in frustration as you glared at your father again.

“Don’t be so naive.” Your uncle said cruelly, but you didn’t dare look at him again, “You’ve already upset your parents enough, but you just keep pushing. You wouldn’t be nearly so lucky if you were my kid.”

Your father shared a glance with Tom beforing looking back at you, his eyes quickly zeroing in on Eddie instead. He took an assertive step forward while pointing his finger harshly at Eddie; you took a step back, bumping into Eddie, who put his hands on the back of your arms to steady you.

“What could you and my daughter possibly have in common? What is it about you that has her so possessed that she’s insistent on acting like this?”

“Will you just leave him alone!” You interjected before Eddie could answer, again wishing that he wasn’t involved in this. Your father’s dark eyes returned to yours, “Have any of you considered he’s not at fault? Maybe I’m tired of how boring my life is and he makes it more fun than it’s been in years?”

“‘Fun.’” Your father repeated with a mocking huff.

“You couldn’t have chosen someone ‘fun’ who isn’t a degenerate?” Tom chimed in snidefully.

“As if anyone else in this town even comes close.” You reply harshly, your eyes cruel and intense, “None of you can scare me into listening to you, you know.”

You stare smartly at your uncle, making it clear his presence wasn’t appreciated; he simply stared back challengingly, a mean smirk pulling at his lips.

He leveled Eddie with a condescending look, “Let’s hope you don’t get pulled over next time I’m on duty, Munson.”

“Don’t fucking bother him.” You whined in exasperation, your head throbbing from the migraine that had rapidly grown during the course of this fight. You clenched your eyes shut as if to block it out, but that only seemed to make you feel worse.

Your mother’s voice surprised you, having not realized that she came to join you at the end of the driveway; her skittish body had been hidden by your father and uncle, “Can we all please calm down and just talk? It doesn’t have to get ugly like this.”

Her gaze looked between you and Eddie with worry; when her gaze lingered on him, she nearly looked apologetic, as if she, too, was embarrassed by him seeing the family like this.

“There’s nothing more to talk about.” You responded, but your voice was weaker, the hangover finally catching up with you. It felt like your head was spinning as you tried to just focus on your mother, your hands grasping at air as if to center yourself. You felt Eddie’s hands tighten on your arms a little, as if he could tell how you were feeling.

“Oh, this conversation is far from over.” Your father said coldly, staring at Eddie with all the disappointment he could muster, “No daughter of mine is going to keep hanging around a kid like you, so get the hell out of here before things get worse.”

The threat caused your temper to flare, and before you could stop yourself you took a step towards your father and gave him a rough shove, “What is your problem!?”

He stumbled, but steady himself with ease, the dangerous glare in his eyes nearly frightening you. Tom put an arm out to catch your father should he need to, taking a dangerous step towards you. Again, your head spun, this time accompanied by nausea that forced you to gasp for air. You pressed a hand to your forehead as if that would somehow help, doubling over with your other hand on your knee.

“Oh, god, honey.” Your mother’s voice leapt with concern as Eddie put a hand to the small of your back while the other carefully gripped your arm. You could hear voices overlapping as you tried to breathe, but it became impossible to focus as your stomach turned on you, only about to make out Eddie’s stressed voice demanding that everyone stop.

You heaved up mostly liquid and bile, the contents of your stomach splashing onto Tom’s shoes and the pavement. You struggled to breathe as snot and tears started to stream down your face, pathetic little sounds leaving your mouth between spurts of puke as your back arched like a cat. You could feel Eddie’s hand on your arm keeping you steady, shouting something at your family that you weren’t aware enough to hear, although you thought you’d heard something along the lines of “back the fuck up.” You watched as your uncle leapt back, feet and ankles filthy, his voice also shouting something unintelligible.

When you finally had a chance to breathe, you looked around at your family from your hunched position, your gaze venomous even as saliva dribbled down your chin. The feeling of Eddie’s hands kept you secured as you slowly came back to yourself, easing back up to full height with shaking breaths.

“Get me outta here, Eddie.” Your defeated tone was in stark contrast to the dark glare you shot each member of your family. You started to look up at Eddie, but quickly turned away, feeling too disgusting right now to look him in the eye. Without hesitation, he guided you back to the passenger door, making sure he was between you and your family, who actually appeared to be giving you space for the first time in this entire argument.

Once you were back in your seat and Eddie slammed the door, you watched him round over to his side, keeping his complete attention on your angry family as if he were worried they might jump in front of the van. Just in case, you reached out and locked your door, taking in the looks on everyone’s faces through the strands of hair that had fallen in your face - your father looked stunned, your mother hurt, and your uncle angry as he tried to shake the puke from his shoes.

As Eddie sped off, you wiped your chin with the back of your hand, as revolting as it felt to do. You stared at the dashboard, becoming lost in thought as your head spun, your vision blurring as you zoned out. You ran your fingers under your eyes, trying to catch any stray tears that may still be lingering there, sniffling smally in a measly attempt to regain your composure.

From the corner of your eye, you could tell Eddie kept looking over at you every time he came to a stop sign or got caught at a red light. But you refused to meet his gaze, refused to let him see just how fucking pathetic you felt right now. No one saw the ugliness of your family - none of your old friends, none of your exes. No, you all kept it a secret, pretended to be a good little cookie-cutter family when others were around, so for Eddie to be the one to actually see through the cracks dared to make you feel sick all over again.

“I’m sorry…” You muttered quietly, eyes staring ahead of you without actually seeing. Eddie sighed deeply, but you continued to keep your gaze off of him.

“You don’t have to apologize for a damn thing.” He answered, his voice equally as quiet, although stronger than yours. You were tempted to look at him, but you settled for just watching him from the corner of your eye, letting your hair act as a shield between you.

You pressed your lips tightly together, struggling to find your words, “That was fucking embarrassing; you didn’t need to see that.”

A long stretch of silence passed between you two, long enough that you finally dared to turn your attention to Eddie. His jaw was clenched and his knuckles were white on the steering wheel, his eyes looking even darker than they already were.

He couldn’t possibly be so worked up for you, could he? The thought was unfathomable, and you instantly felt undeserving of it. You never let people close enough to worry about you like this, and you loathed the idea that Eddie was pitying you, feeling sorry for you.

Just as he turned his head to look at you, you whipped your gaze forward again nervously, the back of your neck warm.

“Is that the shit you deal with?” He asked, voice both angry and sad. When you didn’t respond, he added, “There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.”

You could tell there was so much more that Eddie would have liked to say - the way he kept working his jaw, kept opening his mouth only to snap it shut again. His mind must have been going a thousand miles per hour, and yet he couldn’t seem to say a single thing. Much like you, although you felt more as if your brain had turned on you, as if you were so worked up and frightened of being emotional that everything within you simply turned off.

Although you hadn’t given Eddie a destination to drive to, you were nonetheless a little surprised that you ended up back at his place. You simply stared at the trailer as Eddie climbed out of the van, coming back around to your side and opening the door for you; it took you another few moments before you slid out of the seat, fussing to keep your skirt in place. God, you couldn’t wait to take off this damn outfit; it was cute yesterday, when you were excited to go to a party, but today it was simply annoying and burdensome.

Eddie led you inside, his hands hovering just a couple inches from you as if he were worried you were some fragile porcelain doll. A part of you hated it, but a larger part of you was still shocked at just how kind he was being towards you, even after seeing how ugly your homelife was.

There was so much you wanted to say, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, allowing Eddie to sit the pair of you down on the edge of his mattress. He was being far too patient with you, just waiting for you to lead whatever discussion may or may not happen next. Again, you refrained from meeting his eyes, your gaze darting mindlessly around his bedroom.

After a long, tense stretch, you finally asked in a small voice, “Can I use the shower?” Eddie nodded, standing quickly as if he intended to help you to the bathroom, but you held your hands up a little in a tired surrender, “I’m okay.”

Even without looking at him, you knew he was watching you with concern. But he sighed in acceptance, letting you walk past him towards the door, “I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

You couldn’t help the very slight smile that tugged at your lips; despite how awful you felt, you found it amusing to even try to picture yourself wearing whatever silly clothes Eddie brought you. As you closed yourself off in the bathroom, you wondered if he had the same thought.

You spent what was probably an ungodly amount of time in the shower, letting the steam and the heat release everything that you’ve kept pent up from the moment you left your parents in the driveway. You tried to breathe deeply, tried to keep yourself composed, but within the safe confines of the shower, all your emotions began to spill over. Biting down on your thumb to keep your sobs in, you leaned against the wall to stay upright, your body silently wracking as salty tears mixed with the hot water.

Fuck, you couldn’t believe this. How the hell were you going to look Eddie in the eye, knowing that he’d seen the way your family behaved? He probably thought you were all so damn pathetic, so damn dysfunctional. It felt like he was in on a dirty little secret, like it would be the elephant in the room that was impossible to ignore. You were so ashamed of your family as you slowly lowered yourself to the floor, letting the water beat against your back as you tried once more to breathe slowly, steadily. For a second, you thought you may puke again, but your stomach was too empty for anything to come up.

Was it always this bad? You’d be so used to the coldness and the negativity, that you weren’t sure if it had gotten worse or if you were simply becoming more aware of it. If this is how bad it got after only a month, you were nervous to see how much worse it may possibly get as your senior year continued.

Eventually, you dragged yourself out of the shower, your limbs feeling heavy as you grabbed a towel. Your brow knotted then rose in surprise when you saw a small stack of clothes sitting atop the bathroom counter - when the hell did Eddie sneak those in here, and when he did, could he hear you trying not to cry too loud? Your neck grew hot at the thought that he heard your muffled sobs.

Once you were clad in Eddie’s old sweater and pajama pants, you appreciated how comfortable they were, tugging the sleeves down over your hands as if you were a small child. You lingered in the bathroom for a long while, watching as the foggy mirror slowly became clear again, frowning at your frail-looking reflection; you felt a wash of shame, thinking about how unpresentable you must’ve looked all day.

Taking a deep breath, you straightened your shoulders and raised your chin high, trying to shake off how feeble you looked. Brushing your wet hair back from your face, you sighed with determination, finally opening the bathroom door.

You ducked into Eddie’s room without even looking in the direction of the living room - you weren’t sure whether or not Wayne was home, but you weren’t quite ready to face other people yet if he was. Eddie must’ve been out there, because his room was empty; you slumped down onto his bed, pulling your knees up under your chin as you leaned back against the wall. Your ears perked at the sound of Eddie’s footsteps approaching the room, and you sat up a little as he stepped through the door, water in hand and a more relaxed look on his face.

You gave him a weak smile, finally able to meet his eyes as he sat next to you. Wordlessly, he offered you the glass of water, opening up his other hand to reveal a couple of painkillers. You accepted them with an appreciative look, taking a long chug from the glass before setting it aside. Your fingers drummed rhythmless atop your knees as you and Eddie stared at one another.

“You okay?” He finally asked, and your face fell a little. You shrugged as if you were unbothered, almost hoping that Eddie would simply accept that response. But he narrowed his eyes at you instead, leaning forward just a little, “You don’t have to lie to me.”

You cocked your head as you studied his features, keeping a false little grin on your lips as you answered quietly, “I’ll be fine.” Eddie hummed, looking away from you for a moment as he worked his jaw, “Are you?”

He gave you a genuine smirk, rolling his eyes fondly, “Aw, you do care.”

Your gaze lit up as your grin spread a little wider, thankful for Eddie’s ability to lighten the mood, to make you smile when you needed it. His eyes twinkled a little at your reaction, although the bouncing of his knee suggested that he was still on edge.

Eddie took a deep breath, looking you up and down thoughtfully, “I know you’re not gonna bear your soul or anything, but… you can talk to me, if you need. I’m a good listener when I want to be.”

You continued to smile keenly, so damn appreciative of him right now. You rested your chin on your knees again, taking him in, “You’re the best fake boyfriend a girl could ask for.”

“Yeah?” He looked as if he were about to laugh, but also as if the statement gave him pause, “You’re not so bad yourself.”

A doubtful look crossed your face as you rolled your eyes and teased, “Liar.”

Eddie turned toward you, crossing his legs on the bed so that his knees rested against your ankles; you glanced down at them for a moment before meeting his gaze again. His expression was furrowed with seriousness, “You know, no one’s come to my defense the way you did back there; you’re pretty ballsy, getting between me and a cop, even if he is your uncle.”

He smiled again in that easy way of his, which effectively kept you at ease. You nudged him lightly with the tip of your toes, eying him through your lashes, “Don’t make it sound so heroic…”

Eddie stared at you long enough that you began to nibble on the inside of your lips, his eyes making you timid. You weren’t sure if he was simply studying you, if he was considering something to say, or if he was waiting for you to speak again. You tried to look unaffected, tried to look as if you’d already moved on from the fight with your family, but you knew that Eddie could see right through all that falseness. These days, he knew you a little too well, but in a way you were grateful for (most of the time) - no one else could see through you quite the way he did.

With a slouch of his shoulders, Eddie caved, shaking his head at you, “Alright, princess, you’re no hero.”

His tone was intentionally unconvincing, daring you to respond. Now, you watched him fidget under your gaze, just as he’d done to you. Sincerity didn’t come easy to you, and you certainly weren’t going to pour your heart out, but you needed to make some effort. For your own sake, you needed Eddie to know that he was appreciated today - you told him to go, but instead he stayed, and that said a lot about his character. The thought of even trying to speak with total honesty made your heart drum nervously.

You opened your mouth, but hesitated for a moment, causing him to raise a curious brow. So, you licked your lips and looked down briefly, saying simply, “Thank you, Eddie.”

He didn’t need you to elaborate, didn’t need you to go down the laundry list of things that you were referring to - the way he held your gaze and nodded back spoke volumes. The weighty look on his face made it clear that he knew you were thanking him for more things than you knew how to list.

Eddie gave an untroubled shrug before relaxing his shoulders, again knowing just the right balance of easiness and seriousness to keep you comfortable, his eyes shining playfully, “Ah, don’t make me sound like a hero, either.”

He reached out and set his hand on one of your knees. his fingers applying slight pressure, although the look on his face suggested it was an impulsive move, something he didn’t intend to do. You both looked between his hand and one another’s faces before he pulled back and stood, turning his back to you for a moment as he looked around his room while rubbing the back of his neck. When he met your eyes again, he grinned easily, nodding his head towards the bedroom door.

“You need anything? We haven’t eaten all day.” You smiled tranquilly, although the nervous energy surrounding Eddie is what really had your attention. To appease him, you gave a small nod, tugging at the sleeves of your sweater while relaxing back against the wall, looking him up and down slowly as if worried you would forget him once he left the room.

“Yeah, let’s eat.” Food was the last thing on your mind right now, but Eddie seemed nearly desperate to make sure you were alright, so you could appease him in this. He gave you one more charming smile as he was about to leave the room, but he came to a pause in the doorway. You watched him expectantly, assuming he had something else to say, but just as quickly as he had stopped he disappeared.

Your stare lingered on the spot he was just in, your face relaxing into a content look. You absentmindedly began to fiddle with your sleeves, your eyes lazily traveling around Eddie’s room, stopping to study band posters or clutter lying around.

You couldn’t help but feel at ease, even as your mind continued reeling over the confrontation with your parents. The whole fiasco was an easier pill to swallow thanks to Eddie and his ability to make you smile or laugh at even the most inopportune moments. And you did just that, grinning affectionately to yourself as your cheeks flushed; a warmth washed over you as you oh-so easily pictured Eddie in your head.

But suddenly that gave you pause, your expression faltering in realization that you were acting giddy over Eddie. You stared blankly at the wall across from you as your heart skipped and your chest felt heavy, exhaling slowly as you grasped what exactly was going through your head at that moment.

You felt foolish and panicked, although that seemed like a completely stupid reaction; you tried to shake yourself of the ridiculous sensation, but your heart just kept drumming rapidly. With a knotted brow, you had to wonder if this had been slowly building and if you’d just been ignoring it. Or were you too dumb to have noticed it before - the easy way you and Eddie could coexist, the shared smiles and glances and laughter, the occasional jolt when you’d bump shoulders or hold hands.

When did all of those little things start to stir something in you? Why did you suddenly have goosebumps breaking out across your arms and legs? You realized your jaw was slack, so you tightly pressed your lips together and shook your head; you ran your hands up and down your legs then along your arms, as if the goosebumps were from being cold and not from the damn epiphany you just had.

You were being ridiculous getting yourself all worked up unnecessarily. But there was no shaking your realization, no ignoring the thought now bombarding your brain. You swallowed your nerves to the best of your ability, shooting a glance towards the door as if fearful you’d be caught doing something wrong. Your foot began to bounce, in need of some way to release this stupid anxiety you were feeling.

But there was no shaking it, no ignoring it, no releasing it. And for whatever reason, that filled you with complete and utter apprehension.

Fuck… You liked Eddie.

.

.

additional a/n: Let the idiots-to-lovers shenanigans commence :)))

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