#these are getting surprisingly angsty… good!

[he4rken]

can i request some PLATONIC forsaken killers x teen!reader? if u dont wanna write a bunch just pls include 1x1x1x1, mafioso, and coolkid. the reader can be gender neutral and they have a kind of sassy and easily angered personality but it’s mainly to cover up how much they hate being in forsaken. their technique is brute force with a bit of mind games, so they kind of appear around the map randomly to freak out survivors and just uses some knife to kill them. thank you!

THEY'RE PLAYING MY CHEMICAL ROMANCE, YOU KNOW I'M SCARED OF EMOS! | Killer teen!reader headcanons

— I desperately hope I understood your request right. To keep it less crowded and that it meets your wishes, I only wrote 1x1x1x1, Mafioso and of course c00lkidd (separately). Additionally it's written in headcanon formatting..? If that's the right word. (Also prattles, Noli release, obviously I'm posting two fics in one day) (side note, I'm not gonna write for Noli just yet)

WARNINGS: reader is going through a phase, basic forsaken round stuff (murdering)

MAFIOSO

— Mafioso won't necessarily... care? Sure, he acknowledges your existence but that's about it. What's so interesting about a kid running around harming other's when c00lkidd himself also exists? Nothing special here.

— But he's also petty. I don't think he'd usually indulge with talking to kids but you should at least be hitting puberty? You could definitely talk like an adult! Which was the most brightest thought he had before personally getting taken aback.

"So, how have you been doing?"

"Go away you're wrinkly and old."

— He had to bite his tongue. Just teens trying to be all tough and stuff! Which he won't even bother setting off further. Kids aren't his thing and obviously he isn't wrinkly! He's aged fine.

— First he thought you did have some personal beef with him for no reason whatsoever. But then he saw you going off on others if they were even one step too close to you.

— Genuinely what was your problem? Angsty teen phases don't last this long, certainly you must be a special case. Is he gonna bother with it? Nope! Not his problem.

— Hypothetically, if two killers in one round existed as a mode and both of you got paired up, first thing he did say to you was "you aren't killing anyone with your comments". Obviously that got a nasty reaction out of you immediately. All Mafioso did was snicker slightly, it's a bit funny actually.

— Till he got whiplash, again. You went for quite literally anybody you even saw for a millisecond! There wasn't even a thought process on any action you were doing, you just went straight for it! Most concern he actually had was witnessing you stabbing... uh, what was this guy's name again? The pizza delivery guy, over and over again even though he was long dead.

— Man, teens are surprisingly scary! He kinda did think he set off your anger more at the start, but this happened over and over and over again. Okay maybe you're just letting your anger out on the survivors since there aren't any consequences here, that's fine.... Nothing bad....

— Highly impressive in his opinion though. Maybe when you are in a good mood he could quickly shoot you a compliment on how quickly you do take care of the survivors! Or maybe nicely bribe you to catch them off guard while he ends them himself.

— But of course, he isn't necessarily gonna. How do you convince an angsty teen with anything? At least you acknowledge his small compliments on doing well! Even if majority of the time you flip him off.

— In general Mafioso wouldn't necessarily bother with you, kids aren't his thing! Especially snappy ones, he fights a lot of urges to snap back at you. At least you're useful in rounds!

C00LKIDD

— Perhaps the only one who actually wants to be around you. To c00lkidd, a kid a bit above his age doesn't matter to him, all that matters is that you both can play together and have fun!

— Your remarks barely take effect on him, worst you can get out of him is a pout with a whiny "you're so mean!" comment. That's just your way of having fun, right? C00lkidd happily attempts to come off just as sassy as you just so both of you can share the same fun, isn't that just generous of him?

— Of course when you do actually go off on c00lkidd with whatever anger reached its peak, he backs off or either stares like a deer caught in headlights, eventually his expression morphing into one where he almost looks like he's about to cry.

— He forgives you though! Perhaps he just wasn't playing right. He'll get it right till you won't lash out on him anymore!

— This can also be the only instance where you can be open with one of the killers. C00lkidd is, well, a kid himself. Maybe still really childish, but he passes enough to lend an ear. In comparison he doesn't really understand why you're upset about being here, everything is fun.... It's a game when a round starts! So why are you so upset every time?

— Again, with the hypothetical of two killers in one round, c00lkidd practically beamed. He can impress you how good he is at roughhousing, even offering on "ganging up" one of the survivors so it's fair play for both of you! But, well, your way of roughhousing was a bit extreme. Even for c00lkidd.

— It's fun when you catch the survivors off guard! They hadn't seen you around the corner so, obviously, c00lkidd is gonna give them a punch or two in a way to say "better be more attentive next time". Anything else just... Somewhat awkward?

— While it only sinks in slowly for c00lkidd after the round is finished that this was not some sort of game, it immediately sinks in that the survivors are not napping with the way you stab them over and over again with a knife in hand.

— He could really only stare. Perhaps awkwardly shuffle away to leave you to what you were doing. You were just a bit angry at that person! Surely you'll play less extreme next time.

— c00lkidd really just wants to play, even if he's a little slow on understanding your behavior. He doesn't have any malicious intent. He's just trying to have some fun with someone who's also considered a kid!

1x1x1x1 (all pronouns were used in this! Reminder they're genderfluid)

— A creation made out of hatred, I think you can guess what type of feelings they have towards you.

— Kids are already annoying. c00lkidd wasn't even an exception for 1x1x1x1, he's just a natural hater. It just adds more into his hatred with how easily you get angered. Compared to Mafioso, they aren't gonna bite their tongue, in fact they snap just right back at you which ultimately turns into a screaming match. 90% of the times both of you had to get seperated before either of you got physical. (Isn't even annoying, 1x1x1x1 would just get made fun of for getting riled up over a kid)

— With that, she just ignores your existence entirely. Getting upset over an angsty teen? Not her style. One glance and they're immediately sending daggers your way.

— Fortunately (or unfortunately), everything either of you do is what everyone receives. Perhaps this would annoy him even more cause how dare you act similarly with others, if not perhaps you're going more extreme on him specifically too!

— But she can shrug you off, even though she practically starts fuming without barely having seeing you. He's getting upset over a kid, a kid! Obviously that's unbelievable. He can't be standing this low. So you're existence is basically nothing to them.

— Till the hypothetical two killers in one round starts. They're not having it.

— Begrudgingly, they tell you to stay out of their way, receiving not only an eye roll from you but you also flip them off. Just great.

— The round went smoothly. They haven't seen you yet which is great! It's so positive that 1x1x1x1 starts hating it too. What's even more annoying is how suddenly easy it is to kill a survivor cause they blindly run right into them.

— It's annoyingly too easy. Not even that, they're running into her while looking like they saw a ghost! They should be running away from him and not look like they're purposely running right at him.

— That's before they found out the source. And of course, it just had to be you.

— For someone who still is so young, you were oddly more violent than c00lkidd. It's not like he was purposely seeking you out, no, they just stumbled upon you while chasing down a survivor.

— Not only did you snatch their kill you also don't even get off the survivor! Stabbing them so many times they practically become unrecognizable. 1x1x1x1 could just awkwardly leave the scene, since when are kids so violent..?

— When the round was over, everything goes back to how it was before being paired up, by not acknowledging you exist. Making the round too easy? Unbelievable.... Okay maybe they were a bit impressed with how quickly the round was finished, but that faded away so quickly she immediately becomes negative about it.

— Eventually, maybe, perhaps never, she'd actually voice a bit that you've impressed him. Even though it might come out condescending. You can't really get any positivity out of them....

— They're just a hater in the end. Gotta suck it up.

[clemmmmmmmmmmmmmm]

“My little love,Mama’s got a lot to learn.”

Batboys x single mum reader

My little love by Adele makes me cry every time now that i have kid.Because what if im doing this all wrong.Buttt enjoy!

Bruce Wayne

• At first, Bruce is hesitant — not about you, but about whether he could be a good father figure for your child.

• Once he commits, he commits. He’s suddenly funding your child’s education, upgrading their stroller to a literal tank and reading parenting books at 3AM.

• Surprisingly good at bedtime stories — his deep voice makes fairy tales sound like epic adventures.

• He sometimes slips and calls your kid “ours.” You pretend not to notice, but your heart definitely does.

⸻

Dick Grayson

• Dick loves kids — he’s the type to immediately crouch down to their level and ask their name.

• He’s the fun “stepdad” type — trampoline parks, baking cookies (he burns them), and choreographed dance parties.

• Teaches your kid acrobatics and ends up making them his little sidekick-in-training.

• Loves you fiercely and constantly reassures you that you’re not in this alone anymore.

⸻

Jason Todd

• Jason is surprisingly protective — he softens a lot around your child, even if he still gives off a rough exterior to the world.

• Reads your kid classic literature and gritty detective novels — he says they need “culture,” but he skips the violent parts.

• Carries juice boxes in his jacket like he’s carrying ammo. Snacks on one side, weapons on the other.

• He never talks about being a good role model, but shows up for every school event and parent-teacher conference without fail.

⸻

Tim Drake

• Tim overthinks everything — he googled “how to bond with children” the minute he found out you were a single mum.

• Gets overwhelmed at first but eventually becomes your kid’s favorite nerdy uncle-type. Teaches them coding, chess, and gives them supervised access to the Batcomputer.

• Sleep-deprived bonding moments — your child once woke up from a nightmare and found Tim already awake researching ways to help.

• You once caught them both asleep in front of a monitor, drooling onto a pile of LEGOs and snack wrappers.

Damian Wayne (Angsty Edition)

• When you first meet, Damian is distant. He’s polite — in that blunt, vaguely condescending way — but he keeps emotional distance from both you and your child.

• It’s not personal. He’s terrified of failing. Of becoming like his mother. Of inheriting the worst of both legacies and ruining a child that isn’t even his.

• He watches from the sidelines — his expression unreadable as your child laughs, clutches your hand, calls out to him with easy affection. Something tightens in his chest every time.

• One day, your child gets hurt. Not seriously — just a scraped knee, a tumble. But Damian’s reaction is instant and furious — with himself. He cradles them gently, whispering in Arabic, not realizing he’s shaking.

• He tries to push you away afterward. “They deserve someone better,” he says. “You both do.”

• But your child draws him a picture of “Dami, Mum, and me.” It’s crudely drawn — your child has given him a sword and a heart.

• He keeps the drawing folded in his wallet. No one knows it’s there.

• Damian doesn’t say “I love you” easily — but he shows it in quiet acts. Fixing your child’s broken toy with surgical precision. Standing watch outside their door during storms. Holding you in the quiet moments and asking, “Are you sure you want this? Me?”

• He eventually starts calling your child “my son” or “my daughter.” Quietly. Fiercely. As if daring the world to question it.

[writeriguess]

HIII, I have a request for bakugo, like he dates shy and quite reader in his class as a dare from the bakusquad but then ends up falling for her, and then reader finds out by like maybe overhearing a conversation or something? and its all angsty but alot of grovelling later she forgives him and then happy ending?

Dared to Love

You weren’t sure how it happened, really. One day, Bakugo Katsuki wasn’t paying you any mind, and the next, he was suddenly everywhere.

At first, it was subtle. Sitting next to you in class even when there were plenty of open seats, grumbling a “Yo” when you passed each other in the halls, waiting for you after training, and even offering (well, more like insisting) to walk you back to the dorms.

Then, it escalated.

He started carrying your books when you looked tired, scowling at anyone who tried to make you uncomfortable, and even snapping at his friends when they teased him about being “whipped.”

You were hesitant, at first. You weren’t used to the attention, especially not from someone like Bakugo. He was loud, brash, and explosive, while you were quiet, reserved, and liked to keep to yourself. You weren’t sure why he was suddenly so interested in you, but when he asked you out—eyes burning with something fierce and determined—you couldn’t say no.

And it had been good.

Better than good, actually.

Bakugo, despite his rough edges, had been a surprisingly attentive boyfriend. He never forced you to talk when you didn’t want to, always let you set the pace, and even found ways to communicate without words, like casually bumping his shoulder against yours when he wanted to get your attention or grunting in a way that somehow made perfect sense to you.

You had been happy.

Until today.

Until you overheard everything.

It had started as a normal evening. You had been on your way to the common area, planning to grab some tea before heading back to your room, when you heard the familiar cackles of Kaminari and Sero from the lounge. You weren’t planning to eavesdrop, but then you heard your name.

And then—Bakugo’s voice.

“She was just a dare, man. That’s how it started.”

Your feet froze mid-step.

Kaminari whistled. “Damn, bro. So you actually went through with it?”

“Hell yeah! We dared him, and he actually asked Y/N out!” Sero chimed in. “Didn’t think he’d stick with it this long, though.”

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest.

Dare?

Your stomach twisted.

This had been a game to them?

��Hah?” Bakugo scoffed. “Like I’d back down from some shitty dare. I ain’t a coward.”

“Dude, that’s so messed up.” Kirishima’s voice was quieter, almost disapproving. “You’re still with her, y’know?”

“What, you think I don’t know that?” Bakugo snapped, and for a second, you thought—hoped—he was about to deny it. That he was going to say something to make it better.

But then—

“It was supposed to be a joke, but she was all shy and cute and shit, so I just—kept going with it.”

You felt like you were going to be sick.

The voices blurred together after that, but you had heard enough.

More than enough.

The warmth you had felt with Bakugo, the comfort, the safety—it had all been a lie.

A cruel joke.

And you were the punchline.

You turned on your heel and walked away before they could hear you.

Before you could cry.

You started avoiding him.

You stopped sitting next to him in class, dodged his hand when he reached for yours, and refused to meet his eyes when he tried to catch your attention. You left training early, kept your conversations short, and when he came to knock on your door that night, you didn’t answer.

You weren’t sure if he knew why.

But he knew something was wrong.

On the third day, he finally cornered you outside of the dorms.

“The hell is going on with you?” His voice was rough, laced with frustration, but you could hear the undercurrent of something else. Worry. “You’ve been actin’ all weird.”

You didn’t answer.

“Oi,” he snapped, stepping closer. “Talk to me.”

Your fingers clenched at your sides.

“I know about the dare.”

The silence that followed was deafening.

Bakugo stiffened. You saw the exact moment the words registered, saw the way his usually confident expression faltered—just for a split second.

Then, his jaw locked.

“Tch. So that’s what this is about.”

Your stomach turned.

That reaction. That tone.

Like you were just overreacting.

“I heard everything,” you continued, voice quieter now, but firm. “You only asked me out because of some stupid game. Because of a joke.”

His hands clenched into fists.

“That was before.”

You finally met his eyes, and the sheer intensity in them nearly made you step back.

“Before what?” Your voice cracked. “Before you decided I was good enough to keep dating? Before you felt guilty?”

Bakugo’s teeth gritted. “No. Before I realized I fucking love you.”

Your breath hitched.

His chest was heaving now, frustration and desperation bleeding into his words.

“Yeah, I was a dumbass. Yeah, it started as a dare. But I don’t—” His voice broke slightly, and he exhaled sharply before forcing himself to continue. “I don’t care about that anymore. I care about you.”

You shook your head, the pain still raw. “How am I supposed to believe that?”

His hands twitched, like he wanted to grab you but knew he shouldn’t. “Because I wouldn’t be fucking begging if I didn’t mean it.”

Your heart ached.

“I trusted you.”

Bakugo flinched.

And then—his shoulders slumped.

“I know,” he murmured, quieter now. “I know. And I fucked up. I really fucked up.”

For the first time since this all started, he looked uncertain.

Vulnerable.

“I’ll do whatever it takes, okay? You wanna yell at me? Do it. You wanna punch me? Go for it. Just—” His voice wavered, and you realized, with a jolt, that Bakugo Katsuki—your brash, loud, fearless boyfriend—was terrified. “Just don’t leave me.”

Your throat tightened.

The silence stretched.

And then—

“I need time.”

His expression twisted, but he nodded, even if it killed him.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “Okay.”

Weeks later, you finally gave him another chance.

It wasn’t easy. He had a lot to prove.

But he did.

He walked you to class without expecting anything in return. Waited for you after training, even when you ignored him. Stood outside your door every night just in case you wanted to talk, but never forced you to.

And eventually, you did.

Because as much as it hurt, you still loved him.

And when you finally held his hand again, after what felt like forever, Bakugo nearly cried.

“I dare you to never break my heart again.”

His grip tightened, warm and grounding.

“…Done.”

[monzabee]

prison for life - mv1

masterlist ||

Summary: The one where if anybody hurts you, Max is going to prison for life.

Pairing: max verstappen x pregnant!reader 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: fluff, pregnancy, mentions of throwing up, cursing, kinda angsty in some places, jos verstappen

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i’ve been in such a max mood recently that is actually shocking to me, but i just needed some fluffy anything after working on smutty pieces for weeks. i got this idea in my dream and honestly i think it turned out better than i could’ve imagined!! feedback is always appreciated, and my requests are currently open if you want to check that out, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms. 

If you would have to choose a word to describe Max, it would be ‘overprotective’, because that’s what he is. It’s not a bad thing, per say. He isn’t overbearing or controlling at all, but he is simply overprotective. And if you thought he was overprotective when the two of you were dating or when you first got married, you have to admit that you were not, at all, prepared for his protectiveness when you told him that you were pregnant. Apart from his initial meltdown over becoming a dad, or rather becoming like his own father, Max has been pretty chill about the whole thing – with the exception being your safety, of course. The underlying problem isn’t the fact that you’re some sort of daredevil because you’re not, the problem is the fact that Max believes that everything is out to get you. 

The olives you wanted to eat for breakfast? Choking hazard.  

The candles you bought for the living room (to be purely decorative, but still)? Fire hazard.  

The pool lounger Victoria thought would be a cute addition to the pool? Drowning hazard.  

The seatbelt in his car that is surprisingly tight? Could be all three, according to Max, given the right (or wrong) circumstances.  

So, yeah, maybe he wasn’t that scared of becoming a dad, but he was surely scared of you being in danger. That’s why you agreed to stay back for the most races this year – you knew he didn’t need to worry about you or your baby’s safety on top of the stress he had to deal with during the usual racing weekend. That was until you realised how much you would miss your boyfriend after almost a month of not seeing him due to a triple header. And so, you did the thing any person with a common sense would do – flying out to see him without telling him beforehand, because what’s the fun in that?  

The sheer look of shock on his face might be the funniest thing you’ve ever seen when you meet him in his driver’s room, but of course Max doesn’t share the same sentiment as you. Because all he chooses to focus is the fact that you were on a plane – a 0.23% risk out of very 7.7 million flights each year, but still. He spends at least half an hour, just checking you over and assuring himself that you and the baby are fine; at some point he decides that you need to go to the nearest hospital to get an ultrasound just to make sure the baby is okay, but you tell him to fuck off and calm his tits down in the kindest way possible. And that’s how the two of you end up on the small couch in his driver’s room, with his arms around you as you lay between his legs, his hands splayed on the swell of your stomach as he caresses the skin through the fabric of your dress. His voice is low as he tells you about his day, mostly media duties since it is only Thursday, and how he thinks putting a cat tree in the nursery is a bad idea (that was your idea initially, but you can see how having two rumbunctious cats hang out in the nursery could cause problems). 

“I also thought about something else,” he mumbles, suddenly busying himself with the flower pattern of your dress instead of looking at you.  

You raise your brows slightly, motioning him to continue, but let out a huff when he doesn’t do so right away. “Come on,” you whine softly, “tell me what it is Maxie.”  

“I don’t want him to get into karting.” His words are soft, mumbled, and most definitely final. You know how Max can be when he puts his mind into it, and this particular topic has been a discussion in your household ever since the two of you found out that you were having a boy. “I don’t want him to go through what I went through.” 

Letting out a soft exhale, you motion Max to six next to you on the couch. “He won’t,” you assure him, voice soft as you give pleading looks at him, “you’re not your father, Max.” He gives you a look that basically begs for you to not dwell on the topic, but you continue despite the look he gives you, “And what if he wants to get into karting? Are you going to tell him no?” 

Max tries his best to ignore the knowing look you give him, knowing very well that he won’t be able to ever say ‘no’ to his son, who already has him wrapped around his finger. “I might do that, you never know.” He grumbles, hiding his face in your hair – though the soft giggles coming from you manages to put a soft smile on his face. “You’re supposed to agree with me, you know, we have to be a united front.”   

“We’ll discuss it when the baby comes, until then, I’ll be the voice of reason.” You emphasise, poking him at his bicep to convey your point. “You feel better now?” 

“Kinda,” he murmurs, leaving small kisses onto the exposed skin of your shoulder as he keeps on murmuring against your skin, “I would feel better if I knew you stayed in bed all day, relaxing.” 

With that, you choke a loud laugh, and motion him to stand up as you try to do it yourself – though, of course, he has to help with the baby bump being in the way of you doing any sort of physical activity. “You’re funny, let’s go get me ice cream.”  

The only response you get back is a confused look from your husband, his head tilted to the side as he eyes you warily. “What does that have to do with anything?” 

“Um, excuse me?” You raise an eyebrow, “Your son,” pointing to your stomach, you emphasise your words, “is craving ice cream right now.”  

Max’s eyes soften instantly, and a smile creeps across his face. He nods, taking your hand gently as he helps you up. “Well, if my son wants ice cream, then ice cream he shall have.” 

You giggle as you both make your way out of the driver’s room, Max's hand never leaving yours. The paddock is bustling with activity, but for a moment, it feels like it's just the two of you, cocooned in your little world. As you approach the nearest concession stand, Max’s protective instincts kick in once again. “Is this ice cream stand safe? How long have they been here? Do they have the proper health certifications?” 

You roll your eyes playfully. “Max, it’s ice cream, not a five-course meal. I’m sure it’s fine.” He sighs but nods, deciding to trust your judgment. After all, you did manage to fly all the way here without incident and somehow alerting him. You both get a generous serving of your favourite flavours, and as you sit down to enjoy your treat, you feel a sense of normalcy and contentment wash over you. 

Max watches you with a tender expression, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and worry. “I know I can be overprotective,” he says softly, reaching out to brush a stray hair from your face, “but it’s only because I love you so much.” 

You smile, leaning into his touch. “I know, Max. And I love you too. But sometimes, you need to trust that everything will be okay. We’ll figure things out together, just like we always do.” 

He nods, his gaze shifting to your belly. “You’re right. I guess I need to talk to my mom.”  

“Why?” You ask, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.  

“Well, she promised me she’d look after you but you’re here, so I think we need to have a talk about not keeping secrets from each other.” He mumbles, dragging a hand down his face. 

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “Oh, Maxie, who do you think helped me with my bags at the airport? Your mom is unsurprisingly a strong woman.” 

He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “I should’ve known better than to think you’d stay put for a whole month.” He sighs, but there’s a smile playing on his lips. “Alright, but next time, at least let me know you’re planning something. My heart can only take so much.” 

Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice-cream into at least staying put withing the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. Max feels a lot better after tricking you with ice cream into at least staying put within the Red Bull hospitality for the day as he gets through his media duties. He periodically checks in, making sure you're comfortable and well-fed. Each time he sneaks a glance your way, you catch him with a knowing smile and a roll of your eyes, and he returns it with a wink. He knows that there is absolutely no reason for him to be checking on you as much as he does, because you’ll be fine in the cool hospitality suite with enough water to keep you hydrated for years, but he can’t help but worry about anything and everything going wrong. And his worries prove to be true when he sees the one person who he definitely doesn’t want around you.  

“What are you doing here?” He asks the approaching figure, “I thought you were not going to be coming to this race but the next one.”  

“Given the drop in your performance in the last few races I thought I should be here for... support.” His dad supplies, eyes finding you behind his son’s back on one of the couches in the hospitality, “And I can see the reason for why you’ve been distracted lately, what is she doing here?”  

Max scoffs, crossing his arms on his chest protectively, “She’s my wife, she is more than welcome to be here.” 

“She’s also a distraction, Max,” his father points out, “you’re going to lose your focus if you keep–” 

Since Max is faster than his father where it matters the most, he cuts him off before he can say anything further. “Leave, I don’t want you here.” 

Max’s father looks taken aback, his eyes widening momentarily before they narrow into a scowl. “Excuse me?” he says, his voice low and dangerous. 

“You heard me,” Max replies firmly, his stance unwavering. “I don’t want you here if you’re going to criticize my wife and stress me out, or worse, stress her out.” 

“You’re being irrational,” his father argues, taking a step closer. “I’m just trying to help you stay focused.” Seeing that his son is not going to back down anytime soon, he points a threatening finger towards him. “I’ll be back on race day, but you better be ready to put in a winning performance,” his father finishes, his voice laced with finality. He turns on his heel and walks away, leaving a tense silence in his wake. 

Max sighs deeply, running a hand through his hair as he watches his father disappear into the crowd. Looking back at you over his shoulder, talking to some interns from the social media team, he can’t help but feel the dread of you having to face his father – which gives him another reason to somehow stop the two of you from running into each other during the weekend.  

On Friday, Max’s luck decides to do him a favour as you tell him that you’re not feeling well enough to go to the track with him for the qualifying, and though it is true that he wants you to be with him, he also realises that this will give him one less thing to worry about. He knows how stressful it can be for you to navigate the bustling paddock and deal with the crowds, especially with the added pressure of possibly encountering his father. 

“You rest up, okay?” he says, his voice full of concern. “I'll be back as soon as I can. If you need anything, just call me.” 

You nod, giving him a reassuring smile. “I will, Max. Good luck today. We'll be cheering you on from here.” 

Max leans down to kiss your forehead gently as he mumbles into your skin, “I love you.”  

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice soft and comforting, “be careful out there, okay?” 

Max has one goal throughout qualifying, and to his team principal’s dismay, it is not being on pole. His one and only goal is to get the session done with as quickly as possible and get back to you as soon as he can. After the session ends, he barely waits for the car to come to a stop before jumping out and heading straight for the hospitality suite. His team notices his urgency but knows better than to question it once he tells them he’ll pay whatever fine the FIA will give him for missing his interviews. 

Bursting through the door, Max finds you resting comfortably on the couch, a cup of tea in your hands. The sight of you immediately calms his racing heart. “Hey,” he says softly, walking over to sit beside you. “How are you feeling?” 

You smile up at him, still in his team gear and the hat he almost never takes off, the warmth in your eyes easing his worries. “Better, now that you're here. How did it go?” 

“Starting on pole,” he replies, mostly in a mumble, taking your hand in his. “But all I could think about was getting back to both of you.” 

You squeeze his hand, your expression tender. “I'm proud of you, Max. You did great.” 

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thanks. Let's just relax for the rest of the day, hm? I want to hold you to make sure you’re not getting out of this bed until tomorrow.” 

“You know, I would be happier about this proposal if it was until different circumstances,” you sigh, earning a laugh from him as he pulls you towards his chest, being careful not to spill your tea, of course. Why? Because it is a safety hazard, of course. 

As you settle back into the bed together, Max feels a sense of relief wash over him. The stress of the day melts away in your presence, and he realizes how much he needs these quiet moments with you to forget all about the outside world and focus his energy on what actually matters instead. 

The next day, feeling much better, you prepare to join Max at the track for the race. He’s still concerned but reassured by your determination to support him. As you arrive at the paddock together, Max is more attentive than ever, keeping an eye out for his father in hopes of trying to prevent the two of you running into each other. Navigating through the bustling paddock, Max keeps a protective arm around your waist, and a hand on your bump whenever the two of you stand somewhere talking to someone, guiding you through the throngs of people. His eyes constantly scan the crowd, his jaw set in a determined line. The other drivers and team members greet you warmly, and you return their smiles, feeling the anticipation that surrounds you. 

“Max, relax a bit,” you whisper, squeezing his hand as you notice the tension in his posture. 

He glances down at you, his expression softening slightly. “I just want to make sure everything’s okay.” 

“I know,” you reply, reaching up to stroke his cheek, “but we’re here to enjoy the race and support you. Try to focus on that.” 

He nods, taking a deep breath as both of you make your way to the Red Bull hospitality area. The team welcomes you with open arms, and you settle into a comfortable spot where you can watch the preparations for the race. He asks one of the interns to keep an eye on you, which he thought he was being sly whilst doing it, but you of course catch him in the corner of your eye. That’s when you realise the man walking towards him, your eyes meeting in nothing short of disdain for each other.  

You stiffen slightly, your hand tightening around Max’s hand as he turns just in time to see his father approaching, his protective instincts kicking into high gear as he lets go of your hand and decides to wrap his arm around you protectively instead. 

“Max,�� Jos says, his tone neutral but carrying an underlying condescension. “We need to talk before your race begins, walk with me.” 

Max's grip tightens around you for a moment before he reluctantly loosens his hold. “What is it, Dad?” he asks, his voice steady but tinged with irritation. 

Jos's eyes flicker to you before focusing back on Max. “I wanted to discuss strategy, but I can see this isn't a good time.” 

Max's jaw clenches, his protective instincts on high alert. “If it's important, we can talk here. I’m not leaving her side.”  

Jos sighs, clearly frustrated. “Fine, if that's how you want it.” 

Max’s arm remains firmly around you as his father steps closer. “Make it quick,” Max insists, his tone leaving no room for argument. If other people were to see your eyes moving from one Verstappen to the other, they’d probably think you are watching a tennis match, though the situation in front of you is certainly more tense than that. 

Jos glances at you once more before addressing Max. “I just wanted to remind you to stay focused. Pole position is a great start, but you need to keep your head in the race.” 

Max's eyes narrow, and he lets out a scoff, “I know how to do my job, no need for reminder. Anything else?” 

Jos shakes his head, his expression a mix of disappointment and resignation. “Just don’t let distractions cost you the win.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Max hisses, taking a step towards his father as he gently pushes you behind himself. You have to put a hand against his chest to slow him down, though that doesn’t prove to be a sufficient prevention method. “I already told you; she is my wife, and he is not going anywhere so you better get that into that damaged brain of yours.” 

“Max,” you try to plead with him, “please, not before your race.”  

He gives you a look over his shoulder for a short moment before turning back towards his father. His jaw is set as he looks at the man in front of him. “I’ll only tell you this one more time. When she’s here with me, you don’t show up. If you do show up, you don’t come near her, you don’t talk to her, you don’t even look at her.” Another step taken towards his father has you tightening your hold on him, but he still manages to convey his message. “Try something like this again, and you won’t be in my life anymore let alone my son’s.” 

Jos's lips press into a thin line, his eyes darting to you briefly before settling back on Max. “Fine,” he repeats, his tone colder. “Just remember what’s at stake every time you get behind the wheel.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.” 

Max stands his ground, his eyes locked onto his father's, unwavering. “I know exactly what's at stake, and I don't need you reminding me. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a race to focus on.”

It’s not the first time Max has stood up to his father, not by any means. But you can tell that this time affects him in a different way. The weight of the words exchanged and the implications for their future relationship linger in the air. You can feel the tension radiating from Max as he watches his father walk away, and it takes a moment for him to relax his posture and turn back to you. “Please tell me something that will calm me down so I don’t somehow do something that would put me to jail.”

“Okay,” you singsong, quickly positioning yourself in front of him so that you can fix him with a strict look on your face. “You are not doing something that will put you into prison, period.”

“I’m going to need a very good reason because all I want to do right now is follow him to his car and punch him.” Unfortunately for you, the way his jaw is set is a telling sign that, no, Max would actually do something like this given the circumstances.

“There is no sim racing in prison.” You try to provide, giving him a weak smile.  

Max's lips twitch into a small, reluctant smile at your words, the tension in his jaw easing slightly. “No sim racing in prison, huh? Do you honestly think that would keep me from doing something stupid?” 

“I panicked!” You exclaim, hitting him on his chest lightly as he laughs at you silently. “How are you supposed to help me raise our son,” you point to your stomach to emphasise your point, “if you’re in prison, huh?”

Max's smile grows wider, the tension in his posture finally starting to melt away. “Okay, okay, you’ve got a point,” he says, placing his hands on your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “I need to be here for both of you. But it’s so damn hard to ignore him.” 

You reach up and cup his face in your hands, your eyes soft and filled with understanding. “I know, but you’re stronger than him. And you have more important things to focus on. Like winning this race and getting me more ice cream on our way back to the hotel.” 

He takes a deep breath, nodding slowly as he lets out a soft chuckle. “You’re right. I can’t let him get to me. Not today.” 

“Exactly,” you say, giving him a reassuring smile, “I usually am.” 

Max laughs, the sound lightening the mood even more. “Yes, you usually are,” he agrees, pulling you closer for a brief kiss. “Thank you for always knowing how to calm me down.” 

“That’s what I’m here for,” you say, resting your forehead against his. “Now, go out there and show everyone what you can do. We’ll celebrate with ice cream afterward.” 

“Deal,” he replies, his eyes twinkling with affection and determination. With one last squeeze, he lets you go and turns towards his team, his focus now fully on the race ahead. “But I feel like I need to let you know that I would definitely go to prison for life for you.” 

You laugh, shaking your head. “Don’t you have a race to win, Verstappen?” 

He grins, giving you one last kiss before heading off to prepare for the race, giving you a grin over his shoulder as he starts to move away, “So, I’ll get the rest of that kiss after the race, then?” 

“Yeah, Max,” you let out a breathy laugh, your eyes not leaving his for a moment, “after the race!” 

[ncrthofnowhere]

kisses for you

summary: you are a different person to every woman you've ever kissed in piltover.

tags: nsfw! sexworker!reader, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, overstimulation, cuckolding, cheating, slightly angsty, dom/sub dynamics, you kiss a lot of people!

wc: 2.9k

notes: you make out nastily with a bunch of women from the hit netflix animated series arcane

Grayson.

You were sitting alone at The Last Drop, sipping on a sweet, fruity cocktail you had gotten for yourself as a treat when she walked in. Easily twice your age and over six feet tall with chiseled cheekbones. Score. 

It delighted you even further when she walked up to you, the sound of her heavy boots was unmistakable. You smiled up at her sultrily.

“Do you happen to know where Vander is?” Her raspy voice sends shivers down your spine. You had to have her.

“Wow, buy a girl a drink first,” you giggle.

Luckily, rather than be annoyed at your flirting, the woman raises an amused eyebrow at you.

“If I buy you a drink, will you tell me where he is?”

You pretend to think for a moment.

“Hmm… maybe.”

She laughs, one that comes deep from her diaphragm, “what do I have to do for you to tell me?”

At that you saunter up closer to her, your face inches away from hers.

“Well… there is one thing,” you say coyly as you traced the intricate pattern of the badge on her chest. Her gaze flicks to your hand, then your eyes, intrigued.

“A kiss.”

She chuckles, “you’re young enough to be my daughter, little girl. Besides, you don’t want to kiss an old woman like me.” You gasp, fake shocked, “You are not old!”

Both of your arms wrap around her neck and she startles slightly at the sudden movement.

“Besides,” you mimic, grinning impossibly wide, “I like what I see.”

That’s how you end up in the alley next to the bar, being fucked into the wall by this woman, named Grayson as you’ll learn later. Her fingers feel nice against your clit and her gravelly voice murmuring into your ear sends steady pulses up and down your spine. Grayson is experienced, reserved, she kisses you with the patience of a saint. You kiss back with all the reverence of one.

After you two are done, you tell her you don’t know where Vander is. She groans.

Ambessa & Maddie.

“Again.”

Maddie cries out, trying to writhe out of your grip. You’ve lost track of how many times she’s come already, four or five? Six even? As you bring your dominant hand down on her clit once more, Maddie jerks, letting a high pitched keen out of her mouth. Ambessa, you think, is a cruel, cruel woman.

“Now, now, child,” The General tuts, “there is no need for that. I’ve taught you better.”

At Ambessa's words, Maddie seems to cry harder, clearly overstimulated and struggling not to break apart in your arms. You almost feel bad, if she didn’t wring five good orgasms out of you earlier at Ambessa’s command.

With a curl of your fingers, you enter Maddie’s soaked cunt. You start out slowly, massaging at her walls, teasing her. She groans, but even she knows that this is the calm before the storm.

“Faster.”

What Ambessa Medarda demands, Ambessa Medarda gets. You go faster, rubbing at her upper walls and g-spot with much more force and speed than before. The thumb on your opposite hand teases at the hole below her cunt, which makes her clench around your fingers tightly.

A low, pathetic “unf,” is the only warning noise Maddie makes before she comes, squirts, over your front. It surprises you, but it's not unwelcome. She bucks, trying to get away from your fingers or to follow your thrusts, you don’t know. Maddie starts shaking uncontrollably when you don’t stop, because Ambessa hasn’t ordered that of you yet. When her wails get ear piercingly loud, Ambessa halts your ministrations.

“Good.”

Is all Ambessa says before she takes your mouth into hers. The warlord kisses like she’s running out of time, like she has to devour you whole with her lips and teeth this minute or else she’ll die in the next. It’s surprisingly desperate, but still dominant. The feeling makes you weak in the knees.

Ambessa hums when she pulls away, satisfied. 

—

(“I fucking hate this ginger hair.” Maddie groaned as she tugged at short strands of hair.

You laugh at her, “why didn’t you dye it blonde or something?”

“I tried! It turned ginger!”

“Pfft,” you start, tickled at her confession, “that haircut isn’t doing you any favors either,”

“You know what — fuck you.”)

Mel & Elora.

Mel Medarda was an odd woman, you thought to yourself as you scratched your nails down the expansion of Elora’s back. You delighted in the assistant’s hiss at the sensation. Though, you supposed it wasn’t too surprising for a politician to have odd kinks.

The woman sat daintily in a plush chair in the corner of her bedroom, nursing a glass of Noxian red. She had her legs up under her, casual and uncaring like the scene in front of her was just another casual Friday. You scowled.

Elora moaned as you thrust your strap-on up into her particularly harshly. You were a bit annoyed at Councilor Medarda, at her non-reactions and indifference. You don’t know why you were so vexed at the woman, it was completely irrational, all you had to do was fuck her cute little assistant silly while she watched. It was an easy job.

(You wanted her to join, to ravage Elora with you. Oh, well. If she liked watching, then a show you would give her.)

You bent Elora over so that she was head down, ass up on the bed. One hand tangled in her usually neat hair while the other steadied your balance as you leaned your weight against her and continued thrusting. Elora whimpered at the way your cock rubbed against the walls of her cunt. In the corner of your eye, you can see that a particularly high squeal from her assistant had caught Councilor Medarda’s attention.

Good. She’s really watching now.

You use the last bit of your strength to flip Elora over on her back — she mewls at the movement. Your dominant hand reaches for her swollen clit as you mash your mouths together in a sloppy kiss. Elora’s usually a better kisser this, but you'll give her a pass, your dick is inside her is surely scrambling her brain into a fine paste.

You smile at how her mouth goes slack when she comes, hard. She’s still recovering when you hear gentle footsteps coming toward you. Councilor Medarda stops at the edge of the bed, staring holes right into your face.

“Good?”

Mel brings her pointer and middle finger to the underside of your chin and lifts them up so that you’re looking directly up at her. She leans in and gives you the softest kiss of your life. Mel smells like florals, roses, and tastes like vanilla and black raspberries. She’s delicious and you bring your own hand up to her face to deepen the kiss, but she pulls away, leaving you reeling. Mel smiles at you affectionately. 

“Very good.”

Cassandra.

You snaked your hands through Cassandra’s salt and pepper hair and yanked. The older woman squeaked indignantly, both surprised and slightly incensed at the rough treatment, but not exactly angry enough to not want you to do it again.

“I bet Tobias doesn’t kiss you like this,” you smirk, needling the older woman was your favorite part of being with her, “he doesn’t fuck you like this, does he?”

Cassandra’s eyes widen at the mention of him. Maybe she’s finally realized just how fucked up her arrangement with you is.

(Maybe she wants to leave everything behind and lick at your high heels forever. You could live with that.)

“Don’t you dare talk about—” She snarled, irate. 

Your hand, as fast as a viper and just as vicious, cuts her off with a curl of your fingers around her throat.

“You don’t get to talk back to me, girl.”

Cassandra’s heart pounds deliciously underneath your palm. You can feel her squirm at the degrading pet name — she’s twenty years your senior and not a trembling inexperienced girl by any account, but in your bed, for the night, she’ll be one, for you.

You press your mouth to hers. Cassandra even kisses like a damn politician. Selfish, slow, and languid, like she has all the time in the world. You almost always lead — perhaps her position on the council has her needing to give up that control just for a moment, even if it is to you. You bite at her thin bottom lip hard enough to draw blood and she moans into your mouth. You smile, how good Cassandra was for you.

(Her sudden death had you trembling in your bed for a week.)

Caitlyn.

It wasn’t all that uncommon for those in Topside to come down to Zaun for a taste of the cuisine. For a peoples so uppity, they loved the desperateness that existed in the Under City, the depravity that was born from it.

Caitlyn Kiramman was just like any other pretentious, rebellious daughter of rich parents in that regard. 

She’s lucky she met you first and not someone else because anyone with working eyesight could have recognized that she was Caitlyn Kiramman and robbed her blind. You probably don’t even need working eyesight though, since her accent was so damn distinct.

The first time you two meet, she asks you about life here. How it was like to be born here, to have lived here all this time. You shrug, you were still young and dumb and had no life experience, this was all you’ve known — you can’t compare it to anything else.

You ask her about life in Topside. How it was like to be born there, to have lived there all this time. She had pursed her lips and looked around, saying nothing.

She didn’t have to say anything. The silence spoke the words she didn’t.

One night, she asks you:

“Do you ever want to leave here?”

You tilt your head, contemplating with your knees drawn up to your chest. 

“Where would I go?”

Caitlyn looks at you with a pity in her eyes that you cannot stand.

“Anywhere.”

You look away with clenched fists and jaw.

“I hear Ionia’s nice.”

Caitlyn smiles at you, you see it in the corner of your eyes. You can’t stay mad at her for too long, she’s endearing to you like how a kitten would be. You grin back at her.

Suddenly, the other girl closes the distance between you two and smacks her lips onto yours. She’s inexperienced, doesn’t know how to move her lips or where to put her tongue, but the kiss excites you nonetheless. It’s chaste, exploratory, and full of a puppy love that makes your heart ache. 

When you two pull back you’re both blushing madly. Caitlyn stumbles over her words trying to apologize, to take back what she had just done.

All you do have to do is place your hand on top of her pale ones, and she calms.

(As Caitlyn and you grow older, she visits less and less. She’s busy, you’re busy, it’s understandable. You haven't met with her for a very long time when you see her use The Grey in Zaun. Your heart aches.)

Jinx.

Everyone tells you to avoid the blue haired girl who hangs around The Last Drop. She’s crazy, they say, she’ll kill you, they say.

You think she’s pretty endearing.

You were the one that came up to her first. She was in the bar, sitting at a booth and writing formulas and doodling what you’re sure were engineering marvels if you knew anything about building shit. You had asked to see what she was working on; she enthusiastically agreed.

From that day forward, whenever Jinx spots you in the bar or around town, she shows you her blueprints. She always tries to explain what she’s doing, and you want so desperately to understand, but you don’t have the brain for engineering and she is too smart to put what she means in simpler terms. But, you like the sound of her voice, so you listen anyway.

Today, she seems frustrated with something in her blueprints. No matter what she builds and how she builds it, the machine just doesn’t seem to cool well.

You hum as she complains, just content to listen. When you try to take a sip of water, Jinx gasps and you startle.

“What?” you look around, “did something happen?”

Without warning, Jinx places her hands on your shoulders and gives you a fat kiss on your mouth. Her lips are slightly chapped and the kiss is entirely unromantic and too short, but the feeling of her mouth on yours gives you butterflies anyway.

“You’re a genius! I’ll see you later!”

With that, she bounces away, presumably to work on her blueprint again.

You sigh, touching your bottom lip and watching Jinx skip away at an alarming speed. That girl will be the death of you.

Lest.

You don’t know what to make of Lest. You can’t read her very well, and you’re damn good at reading people. But, when you feel sharp nails teasing at the lips of your cunt, you decide that maybe you’re overthinking things. Lest’s hand trails up to press harshly at your clit, making you hiss. 

Your hand tugs at one of her fluffy ears, not enough to hurt, but enough to make Lest yelp.

“Behave.”

Lest grins at you deviously.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Your eyes close as you lean your back onto the concrete wall. The other woman wastes no time, she is on the ground, tugging down your skirt and lapping at your hole. You hum in satisfaction, a hand in her brown hair.

Lest, the cheeky thing, bites at your clit, just to provoke you before she makes you come. You growl in response.

“What did I just say?”

You tug harshly at her ears. The rough treatment makes her whine and you can see how hard she’s grinding herself on her hands.

“Oh?” you smirk, “You like that, huh?”

You push yourself harder onto Lest’s open mouth, trying not to pant, “If you behave, I’ll play with them a bit more, hmm?”

You think Lest tries to nod, but your thighs between her head and your hands on her ears prevent her from doing so. All she can do is lap at your pussy with a renewed vigor.

After you come, Lest brings herself back up to height. She kisses at you hungrily and without care, spreading your musk and juice all over your faces. She nips at the fat on your bottom lip and you run a tongue over both her canines, tasting yourself on her mouth. When you pull back, you’re half asleep in her arms.

“Didn’t know you were into that sort of thing, Lest.”

Lest blushes.

"Shut up."

Sevika.

Sevika’s your best friend. She gets a little overprotective over you, like all best friends do. She snarls at the thought the various women you’ve fucked for your job, like all best friends do. She looks at your tits, your fingers, your lips, all for a little too long, like all best friends do.

You’re Sevika’s best friend. Not that she really needs defending, but you yell at anyone who’s mean to her, like a good best friend. You get just a little catty with the women she brings over, like a good best friend. You look at her muscles, the gap in her teeth, her lips, all for a little too long, like a good best friend.

You two also flirt, like best friends. It’s a nice day, you and Sevika are hanging out in her messy as fuck apartment, having fun. You’re tipsy and she’s tipsy and everyone’s a little drunk. You can’t remember the night very well, but you had said something about wanting her to sit on your face. You remember how red she flushed at that comment and you had laughed real hard. Never one to not tease Sev, you closed your eyes and made exaggeratedly cartoonish kissy noises at her.

The next thing you knew, her lips were on yours. You had opened your eyes in shock for a moment, but quickly melted in the kiss. Sevika kissed like she loved you, like she wanted to do this forever ago. With a firm hand on your ass and your arms around her neck, she hauled you over to her bedroom and flung you on the bed with ease. 

You wake up with hickies in places you can’t reach and to a sheepish Sevika offering you water. Your smile is uncontained and bright as you bring her down to taste her lips again.

Bonus: Babette.

“You should eat.”

You whip your head around to see Babette by the doorway, holding a bowl of stew.

“I–” you try to argue, but a withering glare from her has you shutting your mouth. There’s no use challenging her, if she said you should eat, you were going to eat.

Babette sighs, “you need to take care of yourself, I’m not always going to be here to do that.”

You frown, “don’t say things like that.”

“It’s true,” she shrugs.

You take the stew from her hands and set it on your nightstand. You crouch down to hug her and she hugs back, just as tight. Babette places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“Goodnight, sweetie.”

[bbyobbyo]

seventeen as dads headcanons

content: reader is married to svt, normative(?) family structure, literally just unhinged thoughts, not proofread lol

note: was trying to write an actual fic but then got distracted sorry, dadventeen brainrot is so real

Seungcheol

Super protective “don’t touch my family” dad outwardly

All of his kids’ friends are straight up SCARED of him

But within the household he's the one sneaking ice cream when you say no, albeit guiltily

Shopping trips with him will always result in buying something for them and he is very willing to be taken advantage of

“Babe if I can’t spoil them now, they’re gonna grow up and move out before we know it!”

Tries his best to be handy around the house, but probably makes it worse, ends up calling Mingyu to come fix it

Jeonghan

DEFINITELY a “go ask your mom” dad

This man not only powerless, he doesn't even want the power, he's just here to have a good time and if you say they can't, then sorry kiddo

You can’t tell me that he doesn’t bring up becoming a family prank channel at least once a week

LOVES bragging to everyone else about his kid’s achievements, cannot shut up about them to anyone in a 5 foot radius tbh

His kids definitely talk to him about everything, which is great because he is SO nosy.

Has a list of all their best friends, enemies, and crushes at school somewhere on his notes app for future reference when they come to him for advice

Joshua

The REAL practical joke dad, admittedly made them cry a few times when they were younger and felt really bad about it

Perfect sweet husband and father in image, all of his kids know he’s actually lame af

Dominates the summer barbeques, UNDISPUTED GRILLMASTER

Super dependable, will drop everything if his family needs him and never goes back on his word

Gives surprisingly good fashion advice

Jun

Definitely walks around the neighborhood with his baby in a sling carrier strapped to his front, POINTS AT EVERYTHING OF INTEREST

When they start learning how to speak he adopts all his baby’s weird mannerisms (it started off as a cute joke but then realized he couldn’t stop)

Cries at every baby milestone until they’re like 10

Will not stop bringing up embarrassing childhood moments, especially in front of their kids’ friends/significant others

Cuts fruit for them instead of apologizing

Hoshi

Will fully ally himself with his kids

Like legit would do anything for them. ANYTHING.

I’m talking borderline go to his kid's school to beat up their hypothetical bullies himself sort of dad

The kids can always count on him to say yes if you say no

Absolutely DEVASTATED when they grow out of the tiger stuff he buys for them and become angsty teens

“What do you mean tigers aren’t cool? Do you not love your old man anymore?”

Wonwoo

Quiet doting dad

Definitely more affectionate when the kids are younger but gets into the awkward advice-giving stage when they grow up

LAME DAD JOKES GALORE, groaning is a regular activity in this household

Tries to google basic algebra every time his kids ask for help on math homework because he doesn’t want to admit he forgot everything

Chaotic af unsupervised. “Guess we’re having pizza again tonight kiddos” kinda dad because he cannot and should not cook

Jihoon

Another quiet dad, but make it savage

I feel like he would just love roasting his kids (affectionately of course)

And always overwhelmingly acts of service so his kids know they are loved

Allowance randomly appearing under their pillow, their favorite foods magically stocked in the fridge, always relenting to one last bedtime story no matter how tired he is

Would let you have final say but he makes it really clear he’s on their side and empathizes with them but its out of his hands

“Next time just don’t get caught, okay?” *winks*

Minghao

Loves loves loves just spending time with his babies

Doesn’t matter what he’s doing he just wants to be in the same room as them or cuddling and holding them

Emphasizes equality in your relationship so his kids can grow up with those values and learn to respect others

TURNS EVERYTHING INTO A LIFE LESSON OH MY GOD

Doesn’t believe in allowances but will cave and literally buy them anything they want if they ask

Would rather die than miss any important event (competition, speech, recital, talent show, graduation, etc.)

Mingyu

Absolute super dad, what can’t he do? Nonstop home improvement projects, cooks anything his kids are craving, offers to drive everyone everywhere

But also the whiniest dad ever lol constantly complains about people “ruining his system”

Absolutely FUCKS at the school bake sales, earns them twice the target fundraiser amounts because he's dilf material and knows how to get the moms to spill their pockets

Likes to have the final say, but you’re both usually on the same page in regards to discipline so his kids aren’t getting away with anything

Just the most supportive dad in the universe, the kids learn to never take him for granted

Seokmin

You already know his kids are gonna be spoiled rotten. He will be the favorite parent by default sorry I don't make the rules!!

His arms are the very definition of a safe space

Leaves all the discipline to you because he cannot keep a straight face when delivering a lecture (one time he made them cry and also ended up crying because he felt so bad)

Does so much embarrassing shit just to cheer his kids up when they have a bad day, acts surprised when they tell him he's cringe

Such a pushover that they are probably gonna make fun of him when they're older, but that's okay because they know there's no universe in which their dad will stop loving them

Seungkwan

As long as he can pick them up still, his kids are never on the ground for too long

Two words: SPORTS. DAD.

He could practically captain the cheerleading teams at their school with how many events he's been to

Knows all of his kids’ friends parents, they all get together and have coffee once a month actually

Nags nonstop and complains about everything he has to do for them, but is always diligent and does it without question

Gets so pouty when they start getting embarrassed to show affection, he WILL get his cheek kisses if it's the last thing he does!!

Vernon

Chillest dad in existence?!?

Literally as long as his kids are safe he doesn't give a single fuuuuckkk

“Sleepover? Yeah, call me when you're done and I'll pick you up.”

He WILL argue with you if he doesn't think there's a good reason to say no to them

So cute and encouraging to all their weird hobbies and phases throughout the years. “Lemme see” and “Really? Show me” are regular phrases in his vocabulary

His kids are definitely gonna inherit his legendary facial expressions afnngjdg

Chan

Super affectionate and doting, but also quite strict with them at times

“I just want the best for you, I want to see you succeed”

HAS A PHOTO OF THEM READY AT ANY TIME, lockscreen is a different shot of his kids every day and is eager to show it off even if no one asked

Not so subtly signs his kid up for dance lessons

Just the most encouraging dad ever, makes sure that they know making mistakes are a part of life and that he will always love them no matter what

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hi! Could I request a Shadow Milk Cookie x gender neutral reader x Pure Vanilla Cookie?

Poly relationship please? Fluff hcs!

So this started out a little angsty,,, but there's more fluff towards the end!

.....

At the time of your adventure to the Spire of Knowledge Deceit, you and Pure Vanilla were already together.

Despite the Dark Flour War separating you two for many years, you somehow found your way back to each other, vowing to make up for the lost time...

Now your love was being put through another rigorous test within Shadow Milk's domain.

His games, his trials, and all his attempts to sway Pure Vanilla to his side ended up revealing how lonely the Beast truly felt deep down, and seeing you both persevere hand-in-hand didn't help matters.

Of course, being sealed away in a tree for eons would do that to any normal cookie.

So you had a little bit of sympathy for him...even though you initially hated him for turning your beloved into Truthless Recluse and tormenting you and your friends like this.

But you couldn't forget Pure Vanilla's words when he sensed that droplet of darkness in his other half, his desires to have someone to relate to, and the aching loneliness inside...

The next time you saw him, it was actually you who convinced him to join the Cookie Kingdom.

Of course he was against it, thinking it's another trick, until he comes to realize some painfully obvious truths:

His spire was in ruins, he's got nowhere else to run, his minions were acting insufferable, and he still couldn't get the two of you stupid Cookies out of his goddamn head...

So he agrees, but claims it's only to satiate his boredom until his powers return.

Pure Vanilla sees that he finally reconsidered that offer of friendship he previously denied, and that's good progress.

It's not a simple transition, of course, as during the first week or so, Shadow Milk behaves like a stray dog. One that only knew pain and felt like he'd be judged (especially if the other Beasts were already there).

He snaps at you both if you catch him showing vulnerability, vowing to spread devastating rumors and lies throughout the kingdom....

But neither of you are perturbed, and slowly that wall comes down with enough time and patience.

His yearning for companionship starts to show itself more and more, in the form of little puppet shows he does depicting you three.

For the Cookie Kids, it's silly and entertaining, but you and Pure Vanilla know their real meaning.

Eventually, after having a talk with your healer bf, you two approach Shadow Milk with an offer for him to join your relationship.

At first his face is deadpan, before he howls with laughter and asks what the punchline is....only to find out you're serious.

He didn't like the idea of sharing a partner, much less with the one who has his soul jam, but once you begin showering him with attention and affection...he finds himself warming up to you surprisingly fast.

It just clicks that he didn't have to put on a show or make up lies about himself so you'd like him---he could just be, well, himself, and that was enough.

And he finally gets to be with Pure Vanilla, the only one who actually did understand him.

He still thinks you two are foolish to forgive him, considering he tried tearing apart your relationship, but you assure him that's all in the past.

He might not be entirely good, but he can always be better. And he's shown that he wants that.

Once the relationship becomes more established, you begin seeing the stark contrasts in how they each spend quality time with you alone.

You've known Pure Vanilla as a gentle soul who'd take walks through the gardens with you, have deep discussions about life and how much the kingdom has grown since you both had your memories and powers restored, care for the cream sheep and all animals who reside on the kingdom grounds...

And now you've come to know Shadow Milk as a clingy jester who drags you into (harmless) games of chess, cards, etc., convinces you to assist him in pranks, and leaves gifts from the other-realm by your nightstand (mainly plushies and other trinkets resembling himself).

While it was unusual for Black Sapphire and Candy Apple to see their master act this way...he's come to accept it quicker, seeing that his happiness is genuine, while she pouts from time to time about no longer being the "favorite", always giving you the side-eye, but you won her favor after insisting that Shadow Milk paid attention to her at least once in a while.

Eventually, you come to learn of his touch-starved nature, as he frequently shapeshifts into some fluffy animal to cuddle with you and/or Pure Vanilla (and you both know it's him 100% of the time).

He doesn't know how to ask for a hug without sounding pathetic. But you get tired of waiting.

So one day, you just drag him onto the bed for cuddles, giving him no time to disguise himself, and at first he gets upset, especially when the healer walks in and asks why he felt the need to always do that...

Until he realizes how warm and comfortable your embrace is; and with Pure Vanilla on the other side of him, his dough nearly turns to putty, and before you could let go, he clings to you both tighter.

Does he cry into your arms? Yeah. But he won't admit he's crying even if there's tearstains on your clothes and makeup running down his face.

Still, you and Pure Vanilla won't say anything about it and just let him hold you for as long as he needed, happy that he's finally willing to accept this one simple truth into his heart:

The truth that he belonged here and was meant to be with you both.

[nkogneatho]

blue lock boys reaction when you replace their condoms with glow in the dark condoms without there knowledge during sexy time at night.

— very emotional and angsty :(( i peed myself.

sae: *slowly blinks. looks at you. looks at his neon cock. looks at you again. gets dressed. leaves*

oliver: is surprisingly making it look good??? idk if it's because his eyes are the same neon but fuck. starts teasing tf out of you and now you don't think it's funny because it backfired.

rin: looks so concerned. like genuinely concerned. "are you like...okay?" hands over his free therapy session card. "you need it more than me."

bachira: "waaaah so coool. y/n i have a lightsaber." starts whipping it around. gets distracted playing with his dick instead of fucking you :((

isagi: is so embarrassed. brother starts falling apart in puzzle pieces like in field contemplating his life choices.

nagi: too fucking horny to give a shit tbh. he'd rather spend his energy fucking your brains out instead of asking you whatever this is.

karasu: he is a bit confused but oddly turned on. whips out a camera and starts recording a close up of his glowing dick thrusting in and out of your slick wet hole.

otoya: "see i told you i knew ninjutsu. i am making my dick glow with my chakra"

[tojisrealwifey]

Crybaby — f. toji (pt. 1)

ˋ°•*⁀➷ Synopsis: When you realize your husband might still be hung up on his ex-wife.

・❥・requests : rules

・❥・characters: fushiguro toji.

warnings: mdni, 18+, kind of angsty, smut, degrotary terms (slut, bitch), saying the wrong name (whoopsy), drunk sex, very very very slight anal penetration, you are megumi's step mom, age gap, Toji's ex-wife's name is Rei, half-assed proofreading.

・❥・wc: 2.1k

・❥・masterlist

・❥・crybaby masterlist

Your ears rang with the sounds of laughter, chatter, and the bustling of the crowd. Your arm circled your husband's as you walked through the festival.

The event was coming to an end, which called for everyone to gather for the fireworks. You excitedly made your way to the benches with Toji in tow.

You were surprisingly quick, even with your kimono weighing you down. You were not one to dress up for festivals but you had just wanted to look and feel pretty for your husband today.

You were having the best day. Your mouth was still burning from the spicy yakisoba you had slurped up earlier, so you were delighted when Toji handed you a plate of dango for the two of you to enjoy.

Settling yourself down on one of the stair benches, Toji takes the now empty plate away and sets it down beside him. 

You hug his arm close, leaning and nuzzling into him. A hummed slightly, feeling content with the evening.

It wasn't long before the first firework exploded into life. The sparks fly as if they defy gravity with the subtle deafening ringing they bring.

The colors of each firework erupt into intricate shapes, sweeping the crowd in their wonder.

You couldn't look away at the beginning, not risking to miss the sight. But after a while had the urge to make a comment on the fireworks.

You turn to look at Toji, only, his sight isn't parallel to yours. His thin lips held a smile as his eyes were trained on someone else.

A woman sitting way ahead at the front. She was cheering with her friends, the radiant light displayed on her skin. The muscles of your cheeks twitch, not being able to stop the frown from embedding itself.

You felt the uneasiness bubble in your stomach when your eyes ghosted over her features.

Your chest felt heavy, not really knowing why. Sure, he was looking at another woman, doesn't mean he likes her, right?

He is just admiring something else, there's nothing wrong with that. You do so too, it isn't really a big deal.

No need to make it a big deal.

Goosebumps spread across your body, feeling very uncomfortable all of a sudden.

The fireworks show was over, yet, his eyes hadn't left her, and yours hadn't left him.

You softly shake his arm making him look at you, and seeing your glum face made him concerned, not that he showed it.

"You okay?" He asked plainly.

"My stomach's upset, I don't think the dango was prepared well."

"Oh? I feel fine though. Sure it wasn't something you ate before the festival?" He asks, taking his arm out of your hold and touching your back.

"Could be. Can we leave? I think I just need to sleep it off."

"Sure, let's go." He stands up, taking your hand in his as the two of you start walking away.

You take one last look at the woman he was staring at, making sure your eyes weren't deceiving you.

And your heartbeat only faltered noticing her uncanny resemblance to Toji's ex-wife.

Toji sat on the couch enjoying the music playing on TV as you took a bath. It had become a custom.

Despite the fact you took longer to clean yourself up, you would always shower before him.

It used to be the other way around when you first moved in together, but while Toji would be in the bath you would end up falling asleep, Toji not having it in his heart to wake you.

So he insisted that you shower before him while he could catch up on other things.

Like right now, getting daily updates from Megumi.

"Where's mom? I want to say good night to her as well." Megumi's voice comes through from the phone. 

"She's in the shower. How was college today?"

"Good. Tired though."

"Then sleep ya lil' shit."

"Not before I talk to Ma."

Toji grumbles.

"She just went, it might be a while."

"I'll wait."

You on the other hand were scrubbing every part of your body with a subtle harshness. The stinging cold water rained on you, the coolness calming the overwhelming thoughts of your brain.

This wasn't something that bothered you usually.

You loved your relationship with Toji, and you loved him. You loved Megumi as if he were your own blood.

Yet there was always something off, something uneasy that always radiated off of Toji.

And you knew why.

You always enjoyed the stories Toji would share about his past, Rei, and baby Megumi. Listening happily to him describing the husband and father he was before you came in.

You loved listening about Toji's last wife because you liked the small twinkle in his eyes, and how a smile would form on the usually stoic Megumi's face.

You understood and accepted the love he had for her. And you knew if she hadn't succumbed to her illness, the three of them would be a happy family.

And you wouldn't be here.

You had an unspeakable amount of respect for the late Rei, but just sometimes you wished it wasn't like this.

Because you would catch Toji trying to remind himself that she's not here anymore, and it's the most heartbreaking thing.

It was the first time the 12-year-old Megumi accidentally called you 'Mom' and you remembered catching Toji's crestfallen face from your peripheral vision. 

It had only been 2 years into this relationship, so you were caught off guard when Megumi did so.

You were really happy, but catching the look on Toji's face made your head fill with doubt.

4 years after your relationship, Toji finally got on one knee. So why did he hesitate before slipping the ring on your finger?

You still remember your third date with this man. It was a month after you both met and had invited him home for dinner.

He had declined but later changed his mind. Despite his dislike for alcohol, you both shared a few cups of wine.

Wine lead to dinner...dinner lead to more wine...and wine lead to talks. During your conversation, he had let it slip that his ex-wife had died 3 years ago today.

And before you knew it, he was moaning her name as he fucked you.

Your face was pressed into the pillow, letting out guttural moans at Toji's thrusts. You could feel the veins of cock against your walls, and your eyes rolled back, never having experienced something like this before.

"Ngh~ Yes! Please don't stop!"

"F-fuck you like this bitch?" 

He gives you a harsh spank, making you stick out your ass more and push against him. He suddenly halts, and his strong hold on you means you stopped too.

You manage to crane your neck and look back at him, taking note of his dazed look.

His face was pink and he looked completely out of it, and you couldn't tell if he was drunk on wine or your pussy.

His fingers brushed against your virgin entrance. Your breath hitched when he put pressure against the muscle.

"Relax. Had anything here before?" He asks, bringing his hand to his mouth and spitting on it.

"N-no..."

"Thought so." His wet fingers smoothed over your hole, simultaneously slipping his cock out, making you whine.

He crouches down, bringing his lips to where his fingers were, giving you a slow lick. 

You flinch at the foreign touch.

"Toji~" Your voice sounded like you were crying.

"Shhh, won't do much, baby. Just enjoy this." His tongue finally pressed against you, your hole flexing against him.

His tongue pushed in slowly making you move away from him from embarrassment.

"I can't Toji... 's too much!" You cried against the pillow.

His hands engulf your body, holding you close.

"Shhhhh...it's okay. She liked it too, so you'll learn for me, okay?" He slurs.

There was a flicker of discomfort from his words, but before you could question it, his cock was in you.

His thrusts were faster than before, hands working your chest as they painfully pinch your nipples.

"Hngg! R-right there! There! Toji!~"

"Such a fucking slut. Taking a cock that's too big for her. You're squeezing me out of you, nasty bitch."

"Fuuckkk~ Please! Please! I'm s-so close- Ahh!" 

Never had you had anything so deep within you before, your body absorbing every bit of pleasure that this man could give you.

"Yeah? Gon' cum f'me? Fuck cum baby. Wanna feel your pussy cum on me."

Toji's hand leaves your chest and finds your chin. He cups your face and brings you close to him, lips on your cheek as he grunts in your ear.

Your vision goes blank and you can hardly process Toji's moaning.

"You're so good Rei. So fuckin' proud of my wife. Clenching me so good. Gonna give you another baby, yea? Want my cum Rei?"

And you stupidly nod during your high, blatantly ignoring his calls for his ex-wife.

"Want your cum! Please Toji!"

You gasp out desperately. His hands find your hair, and he is once again pressing your face into the mattress.

Your body is shivering as you leave the shower, hand desperately wiping your face to soothe your red face.

Chewing on your lip, you sat on the bed contemplating your decisions up until now.

Did you make a mistake?

You did, didn't you?

You remember that night, just how pathetic you felt when you came to your senses. 

There had been a slight ringing in your ear after the session. You would joke in your mind that it was a siren, warning you of this budding 'relationship'.

Toji had made you feel a satisfaction like no other, yet it had left you feeling a sense of malaise.

Neither of you addressed it the morning after. You wanted to say something but were unsure if he had retained any memory from the night before.

So you let it go, just giving an excuse like 'he was grieving' or 'we're not even official, it's fine' and 'we were both too drunk'.

And something like that never happened again, but you still can't help but think if every time you both get intimate, is it really just you on his mind?

Toji is caught off guard when he enters the room, the concern now evident on his face. 

You had been behaving distant since the end of the festival, but seeing you spaced out, sitting at the edge of the bed with only a towel around you as your nails worked to peel off the chapped skin of your lips, something was very wrong here.

"You chill, babe?" Toji asks, Megumi still on video call.

You don't even flinch when you hear his voice. You just simply stop picking at your lips, look up, and smile sweetly at your husband.

"Mhm...just worrying about Megumi." You lie.

"Well, he's on call, waiting for you."

"Oh! Gimme!" You stand up quickly, pretending as if there's nothing wrong as you snatch his phone.

Seeing Megumi's.....your son's.....face lifted your heavy heart. You walk to the right side of the bed and settle yourself on the floor, back supported by the bed.

You look back once more, smiling at Toji.

"You should take a shower. And be quick, or I might just fall asleep before you." You grin before turning your attention to your...son.

Thinking of Megumi as your son had started to feel uneasy, especially in front of Toji.

"Hi, baby! How are the dorms? Have you been attending all your lectures? You shouldn't miss any." You start.

"Yes Ma, I have. They are interesting but the teachers are old and boring." You let out a giggle at his response. As you speak, you hear the showers turn on.

"You know, you can skip a few lectures here and there, just don't let it affect your credits. I won't tell your father."

"I heard that!" Toji's voice is muffled yet his words are clear, clear enough to reach Megumi. 

You and Megumi let out a chuckle at this.

"Yeah yeah." Megumi lets out a yawn and you 'aw' at the sight.

"Go to sleep, honey. It's late." You say, secretly hoping to end the call early.

"Mhm, I'll talk tomorrow, Ma."

"Sure. Night baby. Muahh!" You lean forward to give an audible peck on the camera.

"Good night." Megumi smiles subtly at your actions before hanging up the call.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

You stand up from your seat on the floor, placing Toji's phone on the nightstand.

Walking towards the bathroom, you drop the towel on the floor and open the door.

From the looks of it, Toji had just finished cleaning his hair. So, without wasting time you crept up behind him.

Your hands find his back, slowly smoothing them over to the front. Toji had seen you enter so he wasn't surprised by your touch.

Your right hand that settled on his chest was now trailing lower and lower. Toji watched your hand intently, his eyebrows furrowing.

Just before your hand touched him, he had intercepted your trail by clutching your wrist in his hand.

He turned around, your wrist in his hold as he looked at you with a confused glare.

"Why are your hands shaking?" 

[beautifulplaceofyouth]

SHUT UP AND JUST KISS ME

Synopsis : Based on the main story cutscene in Skyhaven of Caleb getting mad at you as you get injured after sneaking out of the house and get attacked by wanderers so he treats your wound, talking about him getting a collar for you(which clearly doesn't happen). The argument ends with him leaving but you beg him to stay. (3.5k) Pairing : Yandere!Caleb x Reader Genre : Angst! Childhood friends to lovers! Au? Warnings : 17+ Angsty argument, a slight smut, Caleb’s protection basically means locking you up and destroying everything else, heated conversation with lot of angry outbursts, gravity evol usage for surrender, somewhat happy but hate ending? with hot makeout session against the wall (marking his territory with his teeth) and Caleb's protectiveness & possessiveness ends with his fingers inside you as a punishment (non-concessional at first) female!receiving. At the end of the day, you're his good girl. a/n : a little something so I don’t starve. I’m obsessed with him, clearly.

The audacity. The infuriating, galling, breathtaking audacity of the man.

I sat there, perched on what I’m sure was a ridiculously expensive bed in his ridiculous apartment, a monument to wealth so obscene it made my teeth ache, and simmered.

The clouds themselves seemed to mock me, pressed against the panoramic windows like a taunt. He'd flown me here in his private aircraft, his black Colonel uniform starched and pristine, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

As if I hadn't nearly been ripped to shreds by some genetic monstrosity. As if he hadn't dragged me here, bridal-style, like some… prize.

And then, the nerve. "Sit first. We need to treat your wound." An order, barked out with the same clipped authority he probably used to command troops.

"Are you ordering me right now as a Colonel, or are you worried about me as Caleb?" I snapped, the question laced with venom.

He actually knelt. Knelt in front of me, on what I assumed was a silk rug, and took my knee in his hand. His hand. The possessive, forceful grip that sent a shiver down my spine, a shiver that had absolutely nothing to do with pleasure and everything to do with rage.

I tried to pull away, but he tightened his hold, his purple eyes burning into mine.

And then came the story. A story about a stray cat. A goddamn stray cat.

"When I was a kid, there was a stray cat in our backyard, and he was injured." He launched into the tale, his voice low, a deliberate attempt to soothe, I supposed.

"That cat always tried to run away when I wanted to tend him for its injuries and always came back to the backyard when no one was paying attention to him. That way he couldn't fully recover." he continued, his gaze fixed on my knee, his fingers already probing gently, assessing the damage beneath the torn fabric of my trousers.

I watched him, a knot of apprehension tightening in my chest. Where was this going? What strange analogy was he trying to draw between me and a stray cat?

"What's that got to do with this? If you're comparing me to a stray cat, I don't want to listen to this." I yanked my leg again, harder this time.

He had no right. No right to manipulate me with his childhood stories, no right to compare me to a mangy, unwanted animal.

But he wouldn't let go. A force, a damnable, infuriating force of will radiated from him, pinning me in place. His fucking gravity evol.

His glare intensified, a silent warning that brooked no argument. Pulling my leg firmly back towards him, he locked eyes with me, his gaze intense, probing. “Do you know what I did in response?” he asked, the question hanging heavy in the air, pregnant with unspoken implications.

He reached for a bag, a medical kit, and his movements were precise, controlled, infuriatingly competent. He produced a cotton pad, doused it in some antiseptic cream, and began to dab at the wound on my knee. His touch was surprisingly gentle, almost tender, considering the controlling undercurrent of his words and actions.

"I got a collar with a bell. I put it on the cat. That way, it couldn't escape me without being noisy." He glanced up, his eyes meeting mine, and I saw a flash of something that might have been guilt, but was probably just smug satisfaction.

He continued dabbing, ignoring my simmering rage. Removing the used cotton pad, he dropped it into a small metal tray on the floor with a soft clink.

His hand, warm and firm, wrapped around the inside of my knee, the casual possessiveness of the touch sending a tremor through me. “If I had that collar right now…” he murmured, his voice low, almost a whisper, the words laced with a dangerous undercurrent of implication.

His eyes dropped to his hand, tracing the curve of my knee, the slow, deliberate movement sending shivers of awareness along my leg. His touch shifted, sliding downward, his fingers brushing lightly against my skin, each contact sending a fresh wave of tremors through me.

He descended further, his hand reaching my ankle, his grip tightening, possessive. “I should make you wear it, right?” he finally asked, his gaze lifting to meet mine, the question less a query and more a statement of intent.

The air in the room seemed to thicken, charged with unspoken desires and power struggles.

I felt the tremor in my own leg, a physical manifestation of my inner turmoil. This wasn't kindness. This was a statement.

"Is this how you protect people? By gluing them to your side like pets?" The words were bitter, laced with disappointment. I balled my hand into a fist in my lap, trying to contain the rising tide of anger.

He noticed, of course. He always noticed.

He took my hand in his, his grip warm, strong, trapping me. "I know it's unfair. But…"

He reached into the bag again and produced a metal bracelet. A bracelet? Was he actually serious? He gently fastened it around my wrist, and a hologram sprang to life, displaying my health status: 'Infection risk'.

"Because of that monster, your wound got infected. Is there a way for you to run around without getting injured?" His voice was firmer now, laced with an edge of steel.

He held my hand between us, a tangible symbol of his control.

I tried to twist my hand free, but his grip was unyielding. "Why are you treating me like a stranger? I thought protecting me meant standing by my side to face danger together, not ordering me around like this."

Finally, I managed to wrench my hand away. He simply stared at me, his expression unreadable.

In a way, she was right.

He was being controlling. He was trying to dictate her actions, to limit her freedom. But was it selfish to want to protect her? To want to shield her from harm? To make sure no one hurt her like that again?

"I've had enough of your 'protection'. At least not like this." I looked down at my lap, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

He remained kneeling, his fists clenched against his propped knee. I could practically see the internal battle raging within him. He took deep breaths, fighting to keep his temper in check.

It was hard to see him like this, struggling to contain his rage. He wanted me to rely on him, only him. To trust him implicitly.

I watched him, trying to compose himself with a shake of his head and a sad scoff,” If being with me only brings you pain…then put up it with it more three days. Now, it’s not safe to run around.” The words were cold, almost to the point of rage. Standing up, he moved away from me.

"Where are you going?" The question escaped me before I could stop it. A sliver of hope, a foolish, desperate hope that he wouldn't leave, flickered within me.

He stopped, his back to me. "To tie up loose ends. And then…just try to endure it three more days 'til you can go back to Linkon."

Each word was a hammer blow, shattering the nascent hope within me. He was leaving. He was actually leaving me here.

With that cold dismissal, he started walking again, the heavy tread of his boots a death knell to my fragile composure. Away from me. The thought was a physical pain, a twisting knot in my stomach. I couldn't let that happen. I wouldn’t.

"Don't you dare," I whispered, the words a frigid breath on the air.

They were barely audible, a plea masked as a threat. But he heard me. He always heard me. The sudden, sharp halt of his footsteps was the confirmation I desperately craved.

He was listening.

I continued, the words gaining strength, fueled by a rising tide of panic and defiance. "Don't you dare walk away from me right now."

He remained silent, a statue carved from granite. But the tension radiating from him was palpable, a silent storm brewing beneath the surface.

Rising shakily from the bed, a sharp stab of pain shooting through my knee, I limped towards him. Each step was an act of rebellion, a refusal to be discarded.

His back remained stubbornly presented to me, a barricade I was determined to breach.

When I finally reached him, I stopped just inches away, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. He looked down at me, his face shadowed by the brim of his hat, the uniform casting him in an unfamiliar light.

The crisp lines and severe angles of the military garb seemed to amplify the distance between us, reinforcing his authority, his control.

But beneath the mask of duty, I saw the familiar flicker of torment in his eyes, the tight line of his lips, the furrowed brow. He was still pissed off. At me, at himself, at the world. It was something.

"Step aside. You're still hurt," he said, his voice devoid of warmth, a curt order barked from a superior officer.

I shook my head, a small, defiant gesture that felt monumental. I was done playing his games, done being a pawn in his twisted protection racket.

Stepping closer, I closed the remaining space between us. His jaw clenched, the muscle ticking furiously, as I placed my palm against his chest, feeling the rapid, frantic thud of his heartbeat beneath my fingertips. It was a fragile connection, a desperate attempt to anchor him to me.

"I don't want to argue with you right now, pipsqueak, so don't let me use my evol to make you stay put," Caleb gritted out, leaning down, his face a menacing mask.

He was trying to intimidate me, to scare me back into submission. But I stood my ground, refusing to flinch as his face drew closer, his breath hot against my skin. I knew him too well. It was a bluff, a desperate attempt to maintain control.

"You'll just lock me up again? Is that your solution to everything? Your way of controlling me?" The accusation hung in the air between us, heavy with resentment and disappointment.

"If I have to," he murmured, the words laced with a reluctant admission.

"What's the reason, Caleb? Why would you protect me like that? Do you want me to hate you? Where is my Caleb in this uniform, in this charade?” The question was a raw, aching plea for the man I knew, the man who had somehow gotten lost beneath the layers of duty and responsibility.

Caleb didn't answer with words. He stepped even closer, crowding my space, forcing me to retreat. He advanced on me, relentless and unforgiving, until my back met the cold, unforgiving surface of the wall. He pinned me against it, trapping me, his presence a suffocating weight.

He fisted his mechanical hand, the cold metal a brutal contrast against the warmth of his skin beneath the glove, and softly slammed it against the wall beside my head, the force of the impact reverberating through me. He had caged me, both physically and emotionally.

"Your Caleb has always been here. He never changed," he said, his voice low and intense, the words vibrating against my skin. "And hate me if you must, I'm doing this to protect you. Is that really so selfish of me?"

"Yes," I whispered, the word a choked sob. It was selfish. It was suffocating. It was tearing us apart.

He stared down at me, his eyes dark and unreadable. Then he laughed, a harsh, mocking sound that echoed in the confined space.

"Then I guess you'll be very happy when I disappear from your life. That way, you won't have to see me again." He began to pull back, the movement a gesture of finality, a silent severing of ties.

A sudden burst of emotion flooded through me, a torrent of fear, anger, and a desperate, terrifying longing. I couldn't let him go. I wouldn't.

Reaching out with a desperate surge of strength, I grabbed his tie, the silk rough against my fingers, and yanked him back. His towering frame bent down to my level, the sudden movement throwing him off balance. Our breaths mingled, hot and ragged, the air thick with unspoken desires and unspoken fears.

"Don't you dare leave me," I threatened, the words a desperate hiss. "I'll lock you up myself."

Caleb was momentarily speechless, the surprise evident in his widened eyes. Then, with a slow, deliberate movement, he reached for my nape, his gloved hand wrapping around the back of my neck, the pressure both possessive and threatening.

He brought my lips towards his in a snarl, his eyes burning into mine.

"Didn't you say you hate me? You don't want me protecting you?" The question was a challenge, a dare, a desperate plea for me to push him away.

The air crackled with tension, a volatile mix of anger, desire, and fear. But only one thought consumed me, a thought that was terrible and wrong, a thought that threatened to unravel everything. But I couldn't stop it.

"Shut up and just kiss me."

The command was a surrender, a desperate plea for connection, a reckless abandonment of all pretense.

The surprise flashed across his face, a fleeting flicker before it was swallowed by something far more intense. He didn't hesitate. He surged forward, his hand tangling in my hair, pulling my head back. His mouth crashed down on mine, a savage, desperate claiming.

This wasn't a gentle embrace, a tender expression of affection. This was anger, jealousy, a primal need to possess. It was a kiss born of frustration and desperation, a need that burned like a wildfire, consuming everything in its path. I tasted the salt of barely restrained tears on his lips, the metallic tang of blood from where he'd bitten his own tongue.

He kissed me with a ferocity that both terrified and exhilarated me. It was the same possessiveness that had always simmered beneath the surface, a protectiveness so fierce it bordered on madness.

He pulled back slightly, his breath hot against my skin. "You told me you didn't need me," he growled, his voice a ragged rasp. Then his mouth was on mine again, silencing any protest.

This time, the kiss was deeper, more demanding. He forced my lips apart, his tongue plunging inside, staking his claim. I met his aggression with a matching fervor, wrapping my arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

"But you want me, don't you?" he muttered against my lips, his voice thick with triumph and a hint of something wounded. "You want me this much."

He was right. And I was a liar. A pathetic, desperate liar. I wanted him more than I wanted air, more than I wanted my next breath. The admission choked me, a bitter pill I couldn't swallow.

"Don't," I whispered, the word barely audible.

He tore his mouth from mine, his eyes blazing as he stared down at me. "You drive me insane," he confessed, the words raw and unfiltered. "Since we were kids, you've been under my skin. Every thought, every breath… it's always been you."

He kissed me again, harder this time, conveying all of his emotions with each heated touch.

"And after those…those monsters dared to touch you…" He shuddered against me, holding me tighter, his voice cracking with barely suppressed rage. "I thought I was going to lose my mind. I wanted to tear the world apart."

He kissed me again, a desperate, pleading kiss.

"I can't stand the thought of you getting hurt," Caleb said, his voice laced with a vulnerability that both warmed and unsettled me. "And I hate that you deny me a chance to protect you. You are always pushing me away, even though I would do anything for you. You are too stubborn to see it."

“Caleb, I…”

“There will always be someone after your power. They all should just disappear,” his voice was cold as he cut me off.

His grip tightened, his knuckles white against my skin. He kissed me then with a possessiveness that bordered on desperation, and I drowned in it, meeting his passion with my own.

"I can take care of myself," I told him, even though my voice shook slightly," "It's my job, Caleb. I'm a hunter. This is what I do. I can't just hide away, letting others fight my battles."

He laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that echoed in the night. "You think you can? You nearly died out there tonight. If I hadn't come along..." His voice trailed off, and he shuddered again.

"But you did come," I said softly, reaching up to touch his face. "And I'm okay. I'm here, with you."

His eyes softened slightly, but the tension remained, a silent battle raging between his need to protect me and my need to be independent. "That's not enough," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I want you safe, always. I want you where I can see you, where I can keep you from harm. Skyhaven is not safe for you."

"And what about what I want, Caleb?" I challenged, pulling away slightly, the familiar frustration rising to the surface. "I can't just sit on the sidelines, waiting for you to rescue me. That's not who I am."

"I will protect you, whether you want me to or not, and if you still don't listen to me," his voice dropped, a dangerous edge creeping into his tone, "I will make you listen."

"What do you-"

He silenced my protests with another kiss, a kiss that was both a punishment and a promise. It was a brutal, demanding kiss, his lips crushing mine, his teeth scraping against my skin. He tasted of fear and desperation, of the wild, untamed desire that burned within him. As he kissed me, his fingers traced the curve of my hip, dipping beneath the waistband of my pants.

My breath hitched in my throat. The kiss stole my ability to think, to reason, to resist. My body responded to him instinctively, arching against him, craving his touch. I knew this was wrong, that he was trying to manipulate me, to force me into submission. But a traitorous part of me reveled in his power, in the intensity of his desire.

He pulled away slightly, his eyes dark and possessive. "I don't want to do this," he rasped, his voice thick with lust. "But you're not leaving me any choice."

Panic flared within me, a cold wave washing over the heat of desire. "Caleb, stop," I managed to choke out, my voice trembling. I pressed my hands against his chest, trying to create some distance between us, but he was unyielding, a solid wall of muscle and intent. “Please.”

His fingers continued their slow, deliberate exploration, inching lower, closer to the forbidden territory I had only dreamt of him touching. He was pushing boundaries, testing limits, and I was terrified of how easily I was crumbling.

"Tell me to stop," he whispered again, his voice a low, guttural plea that sent shivers down my spine. It was a test, a challenge, and I knew I had to pass it, for both our sakes.

"Stop," I said, the word barely audible, lost in the maelstrom of my emotions. "Please, Caleb, don't."

But my pleas seemed to fuel him, to embolden him. His fingers, calloused and strong, brushed against the lace of my underwear, lingering there, teasing, tormenting. I gasped, my body betraying me with a surge of heat and longing.

He ignored my feeble protests, his touch becoming bolder, more intimate. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly how to break me down, to leave me breathless and begging for more. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding the soft skin beneath, and I cried out, a small, involuntary sound that was swallowed by the night.

I had no chance to do anything when his fingers brushed my clit, a shockwave of pure, unadulterated pleasure ripping through me. My muscles clenched, my breath caught in my throat, and I was lost, completely and utterly lost, in the sensation. It was an invasion, a violation, but God, it felt so good.

"This is all your fault," he seethed, his breath hot against my ear. "You fight me every chance you get. You push me to the edge, baby. Maybe I'm pathetic, selfish, but your safety is my first priority. You have to understand that."

"Stop, ah..." I gasped, the word fragmented, lost in the rising tide of sensation.

"Too late," he murmured, his voice thick with a possessive hunger that both terrified and thrilled me.

His fingers continued their relentless assault, skilled and knowing, drawing me deeper and deeper into the vortex of pleasure. He bit my neck, hard enough to leave a mark, a tangible sign of his ownership, and I whimpered, a sound that was half protest, half surrender. I hated it, hated the way he was manipulating me, the way he was taking control. But God, I loved it too. I loved the intensity of his touch, the raw power that radiated from him, the feeling of being completely consumed by him. It was wrong, I knew it was, but I couldn't seem to stop myself from wanting more.

Finally, as the last shudders racked my body, he pulled back, leaving me trembling and breathless in his arms. He stared down at me, his eyes dark and possessive, his face etched with a mixture of triumph and regret. "Good girl," he whispered, the words a brand seared into my soul. "You're mine to protect, baby. Don't you ever forget that."

[jjscrybaby]

could i request a jj fic where hes dating pogue reader! and have been for a long time (kind of a plot change of jj not being a player as if jj’s been with y/n since like 8th grade)

maybe they’re doing a bunch of treasure hunt things and jj says smth along the lines of finally something new and exciting in my life which makes the reader a little insecure

but as they’re all doing treasure hunt things and meeting sarah and everything’s new and changing snd group forgets it’s the readers bday and she gets upset with everyone after but john b lowkey becomes a dick and is like ok sorry but the gold

y/n and jj get into a fight about him not defending her immediately and they ignore each other after but maybe she gets hurt on the next adventure and jj saves her and it’s a happy ending?

sorry if it’s long 😭😭😭 just a lot of angst and fluff please

forgotten

warnings: angsty, mean!pogues, jj not being a good boyfriend, car accident.

a/n: this isn’t exactly canon because I’ve had to switch some events around but it was the best i could do at 3am. hope you enjoy <3 looking at this the next day i hate it🥲but i can’t come up with anything else.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

John B had been your friend for years. You met JJ in the eighth grade, and within a few weeks you were dating, surprisingly it wasn’t just a childhood crush and you were still together now. You’d met John B because of JJ, the two of them were a dynamic duo, so when his father went missing you felt the ache in your chest; you wanted to be there for your friend. What you didn’t realise was that nine months later the entire world would feel like it was crashing down on you.

A treasure hunt. Of course Big John had set up a treasure hunt during his final days, he’d always been a little wacky. You had homework, you had work, you couldn’t be there every time like the rest of them; you weren’t sure how they managed but they did. You missed out on so much of it that at times it felt like you weren’t even apart of it, they stopped inviting you because they figured you wouldn’t be free. Even last week JJ had made a comment about how exciting things had been recently, were you not exciting enough for him anymore?

Your final straw came on your birthday. You made your way over to the Chateau after breakfast with your parents, like you had done every year since you were thirteen. You hadn’t had any texts, there weren’t any Instagram posts from your friends, but you just figured they were going to do that all later. You walked inside, kicking your shoes off as you found everyone else lounging around on the porch; new addition Sarah Cameron included.

“Hey, baby,” JJ greeted, barely looking at you as he carried on his conversation with John B — something about the damn treasure hunt.

You blinked in surprise, looking around at your friends. Not one of them looked back at you, not even a smile in greeting, definitely no ‘happy birthday’s’. “Guys, that’s not funny,” you said, sitting down in the empty seat beside your boyfriend.

“Huh?” Kiara asked, looking up at you.

“I said… it’s not funny,” you murmured. They looked confused, like they didn’t have a clue what you were talking about, like they’d really forgotten.

“What’s not funny?” Pope questioned, eyebrows furrowing.

“Oh shit, you’re serious,” you whispered. You looked to JJ and John B — your boyfriend and your longest friend — they have to remember.

“Serious about what, dude? We thought you were workin’ today, we were about to head out,” John B explained, scratching at the back of his neck.

“Head out to do what?” John B had always been a terrible secret keeper, if they were playing a prank on you then he’d be the first to break.

“Found another lead for the gold,” he said with a smile. All he’s cared about for the last few weeks is the gold, all anyones cared about really. You’re sick of it.

“JJ?” You whispered, turning to him with a look of heartbreak in your eyes. He’d fold at that look, he could never manage to prank you for long; you were a sensitive soul.

“What’s the matter?” He worried, reaching forward to cup your face in his hands. You flinched away like he’d tried to hit you. “Babe, what the fucks goin’ on?”

“Do you know something?” John B stared at you eagerly, like you were about to tell him that yes, you were upset because you’d found a lead in the case.

“I know that my friends are all assholes!” You exclaimed, jumping up from the seat.

“Uh, rude,” Pope muttered.

“What’d we do?” Kiara asked, pulling a face of annoyance at you.

“It’s my birthday,” you cried out, tears now running down your cheeks.

You watched as everyone’s face fell, including Sarah’s who you didn’t even expect to know when your birthday was. JJ opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Kiara buried her face in her hands, probably embarrassed with herself. Pope’s cheek had a red hint, he didn’t like disappointing his friends. It was John B’s reaction that made you want to throw up.

“Happy birthday,” he shrugged, going back to looking at some notebook in his lap.

“That’s it? Happy birthday? You’re not even going to apologise?” You scoffed, looking at him as if he was a stranger instead of your best friend.

“Look, I’m sorry that we forgot but there’s been a lot going on at the moment. This is just, kind of really important. It’s about my dad, y’know?” He said, not a twinge of guilt in his voice.

You looked to JJ. There was no way he’d let John B talk to you like that. Your blonde boyfriend gave you a guilty smile and a little shrug, you felt your heart crack in your chest.

“Fuck you guys,” you muttered, turning around and walking back into the house.

“Seriously?” John B exclaimed.

“Chill,” JJ hissed. You were putting your shoes on when he followed you inside, closing the porch door for some privacy. “You didn’t need to be rude.”

“And you could’ve defended me,” you sniffled, tying your laces.

You didn’t necessarily care that they’d forgotten, if they’d all apologised and tried to make you feel special you would’ve been over it in minutes. But that’s not what they did. Instead, you were made to feel small and unimportant; because all that matters now is the gold.

“You know how he is at the moment, there’s no point in arguing with him,” JJ argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

“But you can argue with me just fine?” You questioned, standing back up. “I’m happy that you’ve all find some excitement in your lives, but I can’t help the fact I feel a little left behind.”

His face scrunched up, before a look of realisation crossed over it. “Babe, you know I didn’t mean it like that. I was just sayin’ that it’s cool that we’re doing this, that’s all.”

“Yeah, you’re doing it. You don’t even ask if I want to come anymore!” You exclaim, tears stinging your eyes.

“Because you’re busy and I don’t want to make you feel like you have to choose. Don’t put that on me,” he retaliated.

“You forgot my birthday, JJ. It’s the fucking passcode to your phone, how do you forget that?” You cried out, rubbing your eyes harshly to try and stop the tears.

“I’ve been distracted, baby. I— I didn’t mean to upset you, okay? Would you just come back out here and stop being so dramatic,” he huffed.

Just when you thought you couldn’t feel any worse.

“I’m going home,” you muttered, turning away to open the front door.

“Seriously? Gonna go spend your birthday alone in your bedroom? We apologised, we’ve been busy, get over it,” he snapped. Sometimes when JJ was overwhelmed with guilt he’d make it feel like it was your fault, you knew that, he’d done it plenty of times before, but this one really hurt.

“Call me when you’ve got your head out of John B’s ass.” And with that, you slammed the door shut.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊ ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊

You didn’t see the Pogues for a few days, but soon enough Kiara was showing up outside your house with a present and a thousand apologises. That was all you’d wanted; to feel at least a little bit of love. She dragged you along to the Chateau, where Pope and even Sarah said sorry to you. John B did it in his own way, giving you a new bracelet and a kiss on the head. JJ didn’t say a word.

Arguments with JJ always went like this. You were both too stubborn for your own good and neither of you wanted to be the one to break first. You’d had arguments over nothing that had lasted days because you didn’t want to apologise. But this time it wasn’t over nothing, it was over you feeling hurt and it was his turn to man up and say sorry.

You were on the way to follow another lead. It didn’t bother you as much, not now that you actually were starting to feel involved. You knew at some point someone was gonna get hurt during this, but you’d figured it would be from something dangerous. Not because John B lost control of the van and slammed into a tree.

Your ears were ringing, the world around you was spinning as you reached up to grip your head. It had flung to the side and smacked into the window. Hands were on you, but you couldn’t work out who’s they were.

“Hey, hey, fuck, John B! What the fuck is wrong with you!” You snapped out of your trance from the yelling, eyes widening as JJ came into focus; tears in his eyes. “C’mon, baby, you’re okay. Look at me, you’re okay.”

“Mhm,” you groaned.

“Don’t touch it,” JJ murmured, grabbing your hand just before you could feel the wound. “Just a bit of blood, gonna get you to the hospital. You’re okay, you’ll be okay, please be okay.”

John B was in the back now, handing JJ his bandana to hold over your wound whilst Kiara called for an ambulance. It seemed everyone else had got away with just some scrapes and bruises. “I’m so sorry,” John B apologised.

“Who gave you a license?” You asked, making him smile weakly.

“I don’t know, I’m giving it back,” he replied, stroking your hair.

The ambulance arrived and gave you a checkup there and then, they stitched up your head and came to the conclusion that you had a concussion. JJ sat with you the whole time, gripping onto your hand like he was the one in pain. By the time you got back to the Chateau the sun had set and you were exhausted, the pain now just a dull ache from the painkillers you’d been given.

“What’d you need?” JJ murmured as you laid down on his bed, already closing your eyes.

“For you to punch John B in the nose,” you grumbled, making him chuckle as he sat down beside you; hand resting on your back.

“Happily.”

“Kidding. He feels guilty enough.” You’d seen John B cry maybe five times in your years of friendship, today was one of those days. If you weren’t in so much pain you would have taken a picture.

“I’m really sorry,” JJ blurted out.

“Why? Did you take the wheel?” You honestly couldn’t remember, there was a chance he had.

“Not about today, about… about your birthday.” His voice cracked, tears brimming his eyes. “I can’t believe I forgot, and trust me I’m never gonna forgive myself for it. I’ve just been tryin’ to be the best friend I can be for John B, I don’t know how to help him, y’know? But… you’re my priority, always will be, and I’m sorry if I made you think that you weren’t.”

“I don’t care that you forgot my birthday, JJ. I care that you didn’t even apologise. Basically just told me to get over it,” you sighed.

“I know, fuck, baby, I know. I messed up so bad, I just felt so fuckin’ awful and I went on the defence. I’m sorry, please, I’ll never put anyone before you again. I thought I lost you for a second today and I know I can’t live without you,” he pleaded, cupping your face gently in his hands.

“Calm down,” you murmured, taking his hand in yours as you watched him work himself up. “I’m not breaking up with you, JJ. I just need you to work on apologising when you do something wrong.”

“I will, I will,” he promised, leaning down to kiss your cheek repeatedly. “Your present is at my place, and when you’re feelin’ better we’ll go and celebrate properly. Maybe a weekend away to the Mainland? I was savin’ up for it anyway.”

“As long as you don’t mention the gold,” you tease, making him chuckle quietly.

“Scouts honour, no mentioning of gold or anything else that’ll make you have anything but a perfect birthday-redo,” he reassured, pecking your lips.

“Can’t wait,” you smiled weakly.

“You think you’ll ever get in the car with John B again?” He murmured, lying down beside you.

“Not if you offered me all the money in the world.”

[supernovafics]

you and steve like each other but neither of you want to fully admit it

wc: 1k

a tiny bit angsty but overall very soft and sweet<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

it was a teasing look mixed with barely any space. it was also the mix of way too many drinks and one joint passed around your group of friends that made you and steve practically inseparable. 

in normal circumstances, you two were already pretty much attached at the hip— always finding each other in crowded rooms or having your own whispered conversations when you were in big groups. but whenever you two were drunk or high, or in this case both, your closeness seemed to only increase tenfold. 

you weren’t sure whose decision it was to move to the kitchen while your friends talked and laughed in the living room. maybe you wanted to drag steve along as you went to grab a soda from his fridge, or perhaps it had been the other way around. you honestly couldn’t remember, and whatever you planned to get became long forgotten by the time you two had walked the ten feet from the living room.

now you sat atop the counter, hands settled in your lap as you fought the urge to run your fingers through steve’s hair that was surprisingly pretty messy for once. and that made you remember that the messiness had actually been your doing because you ruffled it at some point during the night— when he playfully made fun of you for being such a lightweight and the only thing you felt as if you could do in retaliation to his words was mess up his perfectly styled hair.

you let out an abrupt laugh at the memory. 

steve looked at you curiously. “what’s so funny?”

“your hair.”

he quickly pushed a hand through it, trying to tame the mess of brown. “that’s all your fault, y’know.”

“i know. sorry,” you told him. “i think it’s pretty cute, though.”

“you’re pretty cute.” 

you let out another soft laugh. “always the charmer, harrington.” 

“and you love it.”

you nodded instead of protesting his words like you would’ve done if he had said them to you when you were sober. “yeah… i do.” 

he moved closer to you then, stepping between your parted legs, and it was hard to not let yourself lean into him just a little bit. one of his hands settled on the side of your thigh and then moved up and found your hip. 

you didn’t know if it was you or him who leaned in further, but suddenly your noses were brushing and your lips became only breaths apart. it hadn’t even happened yet, but you were already imagining what his lips would feel like on yours; the softness of his mouth, and you had a feeling that he’d taste like the tequila you two had been drinking all night. 

but then he was slowly pulling back a bit. 

maybe logical thinking was hitting him in this moment, and the smallest part of you that was barely sober was glad because you knew just how much things would change if you two did kiss right then. 

you figured steve was going to step away from you then. and in response, you would jump off the counter and slip your hand in his and then you two would head back into the living room; putting an end to your random trip to the kitchen. 

instead, though, he leaned in closer, mouth fanning right against your ear as he softly asked, “can i kiss you?”

that was not at all what you expected him to say. 

so, logical thinking was actually not hitting him in this moment, you figured; and you could say the same. kind of.

you had to bite your lip to hold back your smile. “nope.”

steve pouted at you. “please?”

seeing the look on his face made it too hard not to smile that time. 

you almost just simply shook your head and told him no again, but instead, you turned your head and tapped your cheek. steve got what you meant immediately and leaned in to kiss your warming cheek. 

the action was pretty innocent and very childish, but it still made butterflies swarm in your stomach. 

“was that good enough for you?” you asked softly, leaning back a bit so that you could really look at him, placing your hands on the cool countertop. 

the hand that he had on your hip lightly squeezed. “for now.”

quickly, your mind changed and you were reaching out to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him toward you and hugging him; you couldn’t let yourself kiss him, even though you really wanted to, so this was the next best thing. steve returned the embrace immediately, arms circling your waist and holding you tight. 

this was enough, you decided. it would have to be enough. 

steve hummed softly against your neck and you let out a giggle because of how much the action tickled. 

when your laughter subsided, you two simply stayed as you were; quietly holding one another and pretending that it was only you and him in his house right then. 

eddie’s voice from the couch suddenly broke the prevailing silence. “just kiss already! jesus christ!”

that was when you finally pulled away from each other— arms dropping and steve moving back a bit to give you some space; space that you really didn’t want. 

you both flipped eddie off with a laugh and then focused back on each other. you finally hopped off the counter and steve followed you as you headed back into the living room with everyone else.

you knew that aside from drunken moments like those, you and steve would never get that close to kissing one another, or even consider doing it; neither of you would ever have the courage to push your friendship into that entirely different place. 

maybe it was because deep down you both were scared of change, or maybe it was because you both wanted to protect the friendship you had. either way, you and steve were fine with toeing this blurry line instead of admitting the truth. it was easier that way, and a part of you loved it, actually. at least, that was what you kept telling yourself.

[stevie-petey]

BUT DON’T YOU REMEMBER? (AUGUST, HONEY, YOU WERE MINE)

season four of "come home"

it's senior year and everything has changed. though steve harrington is now your boyfriend, not all of the change has been good. jonathan is gone, dustin is pulling away, the party is divided, and max's sunken eyes remind you of her brother's. all the change threatens to suffocate you. then one phone call, multiple dead bodies, and a song from your past changes everything you thought you once knew. time has never been your friend, especially when it reopens old wounds. (which only complicates things between you and steve). (and the upside down makes everything worse). (as usual).

episode one - the hellfire club

el writes to you as if youre her husband away at war, you debate the intricate nature of liking boobies with robin and steve, lucas is your beloved while eddie munson is your sworn enemy, steve accidentally exposes your (horribly hidden) daddy issues, dustin is an angsty teen, and jonathan really loves to drop emotional bombshells on you. can you believe this all happens in one day ? lol cheers to senior year !

episode two - vecnas curse

you and billy play marco polo, max interrupts a saturday morning breakfast at the henderson household, robin crushes steves dream of becoming a 1950s housewife, reefer rick has an odd taste in movies, boathouses are creepy in the dark, and eddie munson likes it when you pull his hair.

episode three - the monster and the superhero

you and steve can never have a normal conversation, dustin threatens nasa, eddie sadly eats his cereal because youre mean to him, youre once again nancys biggest fan, dustin and steve have an awkward heart to heart, and you and max become felons together and trauma bond (again) !

episode four - dear billy

steve almost hits lucas with a lamp, you try to trick your boyfriend into a gloomy arrangement, steve and nancy have a Talk, robin suddenly becomes an academic weapon, and max threatens legal action, gets really into hallmark cards, and levitating. all in that order.

episode five - the nina project

you and dustin steal pancakes to spite ted wheeler, steve just wants one morning of peace, nancy takes you to a haunted house, cobwebs are surprisingly intimate to remove from someone, and vecna decides to play flashlight tag with everyone. hes so sweet :)

episode six - the dive

dustin rejects the pity pringles you offer, eddie is straight up not having a good time, nancy does some investigative journalism about you and steve (gossips with robin), and steve suddenly decides he wants to take up scuba diving. for some reason. but hey ! title drop time !

episode seven - the massacre at hawkins lab

bats are really fucking annoying to fight, you always somehow end up critically injured, nancy carries the group on her back as always, eddie gives steve relationship advice (embarassing, tbh), interdimensional bike riding is lowkey fun, and you take a trip down memory lane.

episode eight - papa

steve is on the brink of a constant nervous breakdown, eddie questions your taste in music, you and max go halfsies on your lives, angry hicks are scary, and the end of the world is near so of course now is the time for every emotional conversation ever. duh !

episode nine - the piggyback

operation save hawkins is a go. youre eagle one, steve is currently doing that, eddie is youd be lying if you said you havent thought about it, nancy is it happened once in a dream, robin is if you had to pick a girl, and dustin is eagle two. what could possibly go wrong ? spoiler alert: everything. literally everything goes wrong. might as well break a few promises while youre at it. for the plot. but at least its over, right? .... right?

STATUS: complete (for now)

season four title based on this song x

blurbs set within "come home" can be found here x

“COME HOME” SERIES MASTERLIST

this is a part of my stranger things rewrite, “come home”, and other seasons can be found linked above :)

[erodasfishtacos]

Threadbare - I ||FWB!H||

prompt: yn avoids because she doesn't know what else to do

word count: 3.2k

warnings: angst, cheating

author's note:

I upload a piece of writing every 1-2 days.

This will be updated this month.

I recently started a second tier called The OG Tier where 2

one shots (2-5kish) are posted a week.

There are currently 375 + pieces available to read

Tier I - $3 USD where you get access to main stories, everything except the mini one shots.

Tier II - $5 USD where you get access to every piece of writing!

you can check it out HERE

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-

The transition in being friends to friends with benefits was surprisingly smooth for the impressively big amount of lack of communication, lack of resolution, and all over how much was swept under the rug instead of address.

It’s was a quiet tension between them that was sometimes sexual tension, sometimes angsty.

They couldn’t wait for trivia to be over so they could get their hands on each other or this other.

It was not as pleasant when someone mentioned Lauren or Ben.

How if someone brought up Lauren, YN’s eyes would automatically dart to Harry to see his reaction and she didn’t miss the ways his jaw clenched when Ben was brought up.

It wasn’t a mutual agreement of not talking about these things, acting like them coming together was conventional or that everytime they went out with their friends - they didn't tell them.

They held this secret between them, not only that they were currently hooking up but what transpired that weekend at the lake house.

Neither of them were that kind of person, who would step out on their partner, or cross boundaries they shouldn’t when they’re in a committed relationship but apparently they were that kind of people - both of them.

YN knows there is nuance.

She knows neither her nor Harry were happy in their relationship.

She knew that Lauren treated Harry like shit nearly a ninety-percent of the time.

Ben had never been all that great after the love-bombing phase was done which she had fell for the flowers and the random grand gestures.

It didn’t make it okay.

YN always had a bit of a crush on Harry.

He was a bit more attentive to her than he was to any other females in the friend group but she’d never looked into that or fed into that too much.

She brushed it off on the fact that she had a (now looking back) massive crush on him that she didn’t want to actually acknowledge because she shouldn’t have a crush on someone who’s in a relationship as she’s in a relationship with someone else.

It was fucked up.

The rest of the time of at the lake house was tense after YN had bolted from the pool, leaving Harry mid-apology but knowing better than to chase after her.

He hadn’t bothered her again - even as they both were in different rooms in the same big summer house.

She could hear him in the kitchen, starting the blender, he had to be able to hear when she turned on the shower but there was silence between them.

And it disappointed her, selfishly, she wanted there to be a knock on the bedroom door, another conversation, something from Harry.

But she was the one who ran, who made it clear that what happened wasn’t good, and YN has always struggled with avoidance, it why she hasn’t broken up with Ben.

She hated confrontation and uncomfortable situations to a fault.

Being socially anxious was in her bloodstream, and having hard conversations was like pulling teeth without being numbed first.

So the second Harry had pulled his hand back, his mouth opening to discuss what just happened - there was no other option for YN then to just avoid, flee so that she didn’t have to talk about it.

YN doesn’t come out of her bedroom for the rest of the night.

Her heart’s in her stomach because even if she doesn’t want to be with Ben, there was guilt for liking what just happened with Harry.

She couldn’t get it out of her mind when he’s cupped her breast, when the rough pad of his thumb had nudged over her nipple.

It was fucked up that her thighs were wet at the thought, at the way his eyes had honed in on her, and how fucking turned on he looked as he reached out to touch her.

She’d never felt that kind of arousal in her life and it wasn’t right, she wasn’t expecting it with Harry when she had long ago deemed him out of her league.

YN wasn’t asleep by the time that Ben stumbled in, drunk and clueless to the internal crisis of self she was having.

She kept her eyes squeezed shut when she felt him looking at her.

Determining whether she was asleep or not, and mumbled some intelligible before he was stumbling out of his clothes and crawling into bed - promptly passing out even while YN struggled to calm her mind.

+

YN knew she was making everything worse.

She knew that she needed to talk to Harry but avoidance was easier.

It was easier to not make eye contact with him when everyone clmabered downstairs in the morning.

It was easier to sit as far away as possible from him at the table when they all ate breakfast, and made sure not to look at him.

YN could feel his gaze burning into the side of her face.

She could tell that he was staring at her, willing her to look at him, and she wanted him to stop because he was being obvious - or at least she felt like he was drawing attention to the situation but if anyone notices, nobody say anything.

Then they’re down by the lake, YN’s laying on a lounger on the dock, soaking up the sun, and trying to warm up before getting into the water which was chiller than she usually liked.

It was peaceful until she can feel the wood of the dock start to tremble next to her until someone is sitting on the chair opposite her.

YN has sunglasses on that were big enough to hide her eyes completely, dark enough that he couldn’t see.

She blinked her eyes open to Harry looking at her with an unfamiliar look on his face, she didn’t know what he was feeling but he definitely wanted her attention.

YN sits up as Harry hands her something, his voice quiet and unsure, “You’ve got to reapply, you’re gettin’ burnt.”

“Thanks,” YN takes it from him, making sure their hands don’t touch even though she can acknowledge that it’s dramatic.

Even if she’s being short outward, internally there were butterflies tumbling around in her belly that he was even paying attention to her like this.

Apparently her standards were incredibly low because Ben would never do something like this.

He wouldn’t have noticed in the first place, nor used any amount of energy to go up to the house to get the bottle of sunscreen.

“Think I grabbed the right one, you said the one in the blue bottle irritates your skin, right?” Harry checks, he’s off, subdued.

YN didn’t like it but she couldn’t bring it up, they couldn’t talk about it where anyone could hear them.

The thoughtfulness, the fact that he listened when she made that off-handed comment the other day when Ben handed her the blue bottle.

“This is the right one,” YN agrees lamely, taking it out of his hand, they were both skating on uncertainty.

“You ignored me at breakfast,” Harry observes, suddenly on topic to what they really need to talk about.

And YN knows her eyes must have widened like a deer about to be hit by oncoming headlights because she wasn’t ready to have this conversation.

“Didn’t mean to,” YN lies, it wasn’t even a good one but she could feel this uneasiness starting to churn in her stomach because at the end of the day, she had this stupid fucking crush on Harry.

And now she’s seemingly on track to continuously make herself look like an immature little girl who can’t have a conversation.

Harry’s brow furrows at that, huffing with a shake of his head, “Okay. I guess it’s just in my head then.”

And YN didn’t want to gaslight him either.

Fuck.

“I-” YN doesn’t know what to say, swallowing harshly as toys with the sunblock bottle, “It’s not…in your head. I - don’ know.”

It wasn’t graceful or intelligent whatsoever, she felt tongue-tied suddenly at having to explain her poor behavior.

“I would like to talk to you about yesterday,” Harry replies, his tone is neutral, unreadable.

She'd rather not have a conversation about him apologizing, saying it was a mistake, that he wasn’t thinking, that it didn’t mean anything.

She was going to actively avoid the conversation at all fucking costs.

“Not…here,” YN glances around, no one was directly by them but it wasn’t the place to have it - in active eyeline of both of their significant others.

“You will talk to me about it though?” Harry persists, his fingertips are digging into his knees, she knows

it's

absurd but it looks like he’s actively resisting reaching out and touching her.

YN nods, the guilt revving back up because she knows she’s going to do whatever to avoid it, to not have all of her false hopes and dreams crushed.

He was out of her league, he had a gorgeous girlfriend, he was in a committed relationship, and she was too - it was stupid for her to even entertain the idea.

“Yeah, just not here,” YN agrees weakly, she wonders if he can tell she’s not being truthful with him, if he’ll call her out on it.

“Please just know that -” Harry starts to say, leaning in a bit closer in a way that wasn’t inappropriate but made if more difficult for anyone to overhear.

“Harry! Stop bullshitting and get me a fuckin’ drink!” Lauren interrupts obnxiously from the water.

By the slur of her words, she already had enough alcohol pumping through her veins, and the way she demanded from Harry wasn’t anything new but it never got easier to hear him being barked orders to.

The rest of their friends laugh, like it’s funny how Lauren talks to him.

But by the subtle sharp edge to her tone and the way that Harry’s eyes instantly go dark, his nose scrunching slightly in disgust before he hides it shows just how unfunny that interaction is.

Maybe because she sees too much of herself in Harry in that way.

Ben barking at her for things and she just does it to avoid conflict or arguements.

Nothing was funny about it.

++

YN unsurprisingly doesn’t stick to her word, Harry seeks her out two times during the day to try to talk to her.

The first time YN gets flustered, makes up an excuse about having to use the bathroom, and promptly hides in the bathroom for a good twenty minutes.

The second time, YN suddenly gets very busy helping set up the volleyball net when she notices Harry starting to make his way towards her.

And she knows by the end of the night, his patience is wearing thin - purely based off of the unamused glances he gives her.

The way he’s not anywhere near as talkative as he normally is, and his general demeanor is off - even their friends call him out a few times on it.

Now, she’s nervous to talk to him because of the fact that he’s getting annoyed with her.

She truly keeps digging the hole she’s stepped into deeper and deeper until it feels entirely impossible to pull herself up out of without ramifications.

It wasn’t until late, it was nearly eleven, and their night was in full swing.

The bonfire was blazing, everyone had alcohol flooding their systems except for YN and Harry.

YN wasn’t naturally a big drinker but tonight, she was far too uneasy to think about even sipping anything.

Whereas Harry had a beer or two but he’d been nursing them slowly, enough that he wouldn’t feel any effects of it.

YN feels like the walls were closing in around her.

The conversation was going to come, Harry seemed determined by this point, and YN has probably just made this whole situation worse by not having the conversation in the first place.

YN sneaks away to the bathroom in the house, the second floor one because it was one that no one was allowed to throw up in if they drank too much.

She did it while Harry was in the middle of a volleyball game, and she really didn’t think he’d dip out to have the conversation or pull away from the group because it would surely be suspicious if YN and Harry randomly disappeared around the same time.

But YN is wrong.

God, she’s so wrong.

Because when there’s a knock at the door, YN’s first thought is that it’s Georgia, so without thinking she opens it.

But standing there is a very very unhappy looking Harry who’s lips are in a firm line, his brows drawn inward, and his voice is rougher than usual when he says, “Time to talk.”

“What do you want?” YN has the nerve to huff, surprised by her own attitude as she steps backwards, and Harry follows her in, shutting the door, and locking it behind him.

She wants to point out that this looks so entirely shady, that they should have this conversation not in a locked room, in a house alone but she cannot find it in her to care to point that out nor does she wants to.

“I want you to stop avoiding me,” Harry replies as he crosses his arms, standing towards the door and allowing YN to put some distance between them.

There was this sick, twisted thrill shooting arousal up her spine that she was able to rile him up, get a reaction, it meant in some capacity that he cared at least a bit about her.

When Ben was mad - it turned her off completely but something about the sharp, defined cut of Harry’s clenched jaw, the puffiness of his bottom lip from his front teeth digging into it.

He looked fucking hot when he was pissed and that’s when YN realized she is in deep shit because fuck, she smitten.

“I’m not,” YN replies stubbornly, mirroring his posture by crossing her arms and popping her hip to the side, tongue poking at the inside of her cheek.

Harry looks like he wants to sink his teeth into her- she’d never seen him like this and it was fucked up but she wanted more.

Harry finally smiles but it’s not his normally, boyish grin.

It’s intimidating, sharp and dangerous, his dimples popping as he tilts his head, “I didn’t ask you if you were avoiding me. I’m telling you what you were doing. I’m done with it, we need to talk. Understood?”

And if YN could rub her thighs together without it being obnoxious she would.

It’s twisted, he’s clearly upset and she’s better than no man, thirsting over the way the vein at the side of his neck bulges, his biceps look massive as they flex, and his eyes are sparkling with fury.

“I’m sorry,” Harry takes a deep inhale, calming slightly as he becomes a tad bit more lax in his posture, “It was never my intention to make you uncomfortable and it was completely out of line for me to do. I take full accountability and I’m so fucking sorry for putting you in an uncomfortable position.”

YN takes a minute to process it because…it wasn’t the apology or the regret she was expecting to hear from him.

It wasn’t necessarily rejection.

It was genuine remorse.

“You…I’m the one who showed you them,” YN replies slowly, more confused than ever, and the arousal fizzles when she notices how distraught Harry is underneath hsis cool demeanor.

“I should have never asked. I should have never put you in a position where you felt like you had to-”

“I didn’t feel pressured or uncomfortable, Harry. I’m an adult who made decisions too,” YN points out because it was on both of them, they both participated equally in the bad behavior.

“Then why did you run away? I thought it was because I made you uncomfortable,” Harry’s shoulder slump slightly in relief, his arms uncross but he doesn’t step forward even if she wants him too, even though she shouldn’t want him to.

“I was scared,” YN admits quietly, she has to look away for a moment because his gaze was so fucking intense.

“What were you scared of, Honey?” Harry pushes, he takes a step forward, lessening the space in the small area but they still weren’t touching, and her heart was starting to fully pound like she was running a marathon.

YN finally blinks at him, teeth dug into her lip, debating whether she should tell him the blunt truth - gauging whether that will just lead to rejection but the way he’s looking at her, it makes her want to risk it, say ‘fuck it’.

“Of how much I wanted it,” YN’s voice is barely above a whisper but he could hear it in the otherwise silent house.

“Wanted what,” Harry’s voice is deeper, rougher, and it’s an almost a demand like he needs to know, that it’s not optional.

“Harry-” YN resists, barely hanging onto her morals with a fucking thread, and waiting for him to cut the string.

And he fucking does.

“Tell me, tell what you wanted so badly,” Harry pushes, his fingers are clenching like earlier, he has to restrain himself from reaching out at her.

“It scared me how badly I wanted you to touch me, wanted your hands on me, on my tits, on…yeah,” YN trails off, sheepish and her cheeks were so fucking hot in embarassment at what she’d just said, admitted.

It’s faster than YN can process, the way Harry strides forward, and handles her - twisting her roughly until she’s pinned against the wall across from the sink, it’s tight and their bodies are pressed flushed.

His lips aren’t on hers but they’re ghosting close enough that if they moved even an inch they would brush.

“Tell me I can,” Harry murmurs, there’s this sweet, desperate, needy plea in it that makes her knees weak, “ I wan’na, so bad, honey.”

YN swallows harshly, losing all sense of why this is wrong, and she finds her hands coming to his hair - gripping there and puling his mouth to hers, “Yeah, yes. You can have it.”

[illusioncanthurtme--art]

im curious, why do you like fiddlestan?

i like them in theory (all the pain potential, jeez!) but i feel like i'm missing something very obvious

Oh boy, you’re about to open pandoras box with this one -

I’ve liked fiddlestan for a LONG time, almost a decade now, (EXHIBIT A!!!), and honestly, I’ll admit that the ship is mostly based on speculation. So maybe you’re not missing something obvious, maybe I’m just delusional. I can’t speak for everyone, all I can do is explain why I like it: because it’s deeply rooted in several layers of irony. 

It’s ironic because fiddleford spent the better part of a YEAR dealing with fords nonsense. (And I KNOW, it’s not all bad, but really, especially if you read journal 3, that poor man was put through a LOT. He was definitely taken advantage of, at LEAST a little.) And after grappling with the acceptance that your longtime friend and unrequited love will never return your feelings, having lost the man to some crazy otherworldly nightmare machine, who shows up?? But his TWIN BROTHER who’s HUMBLE and KIND and TEN TIMES MORE DOWN TO EARTH?? It’s ironic, because they don’t know each other, yet they both have years of history with the same person who’s wronged them, and, they can make out about it!! THEY CAN FUCK TO SPITE HIM!! Stan stole his brothers name (and committed multiple crimes under said name), stole his house, and stole his research partner!! And… it's ironic because it’s Grunkle Stan and old man Mcgucket. That needs no elaboration.

(these are all my personal takes/headcanons! Like I said, this ship is based solely on interpretation, so I’m sure a lot of fiddlestanners like fiddauthor too. There’s like a billion different ways to interpret this ship.)

Also -

Their personalities are surprisingly similar when you stop and think about it!! You put those two in the same room, and they’d come up with some highly devilish scams together. They both have moral codes that are a little… ambiguous. And… I can’t believe I’m gonna pull this out as *canon fiddlestan documentation* but these are the kind of crumbs we’re working with here: MABELS DREAM IN THE SOCK OPERA CREDITS!!!! Although it’s not something that actually happened, and it’s just a reference to statler and waldorf, they are IN CHARACTER!! I think this is how they would actually act together if they were friends!! Just two old dudes, hanging out together watching tv, making fun of whatever they’re watching. If you’re in the room, you might get roasted too. Just a couple of old farts. It makes me so happy to think about. 

No fiddlestan rundown post would be complete without the fandoms EXTREME STRAW GRASP at Old Goldie and the Flame Retardant Raccoon. Soos calls mcgucket a “prospector guy,” amongst the other obvious comparisons you can make between fiddleford and goldie. Goldie is something stan used to like a long time ago, but he’s all old and fucked up now, best to throw him away and forget about it. BUT, as it turns out, there’s still good in that old thing after all. SO LETS GET MARRIED IN VEGAS!!!! It’s an extreme stretch, but… It’s a fiddlestan trope that they, at some point, have a crazy night of fun+romance in vegas together.  And I personally like to think that they return when they’re older+happy and tie the knot for reals. The raccoon speaks for itself - it’s one of the ways you can compare stan to a raccoon. And of course, mcgucket's raccoon wife. 

This is where it starts to get a little angsty, and if you “get all the pain potential” then you may have already given this some thought - but why does stan treat fiddleford the way he does if they used to love each other? The whole “UGH, this guy” comment in land before swine, looking all uncomfortable around him in fight fighters, choosing the spot furthest from where mcgucket lotions himself at the pool, and the “possum breath” comment in the last episode (and fiddleford actually has the mental clarity to look perturbed after he says it). Stan is hurt!!! He’s upset!! If they used to be a Thing after the portal incident, something must have happened between them for fiddlefords mental illness to get the better of him, and for him to choose to erase both stan and ford from his memories. I, personally, think that it was deep rooted internal homophobia (being raised in the south, that runs deep), and being scared for getting too close to stan. They were getting too comfortable, and that scared him. What about his family? And tate? His son can never meet stan. He can never let his wife know. And all the paranormal fuckery incidents leading up to this that already weakened his mental state, the portal incident, already having zapped his brain a few times, would have sent him over the edge. So I’m thinking they would have gotten into a fight of some kind, and fiddleford would have stormed off. Thus leaving stan having to live in a town with the person he USED to love, who doesn’t remember him at all!!! What!!!!! That sucks!!!! Only upside to fiddlefords memory erasure is that it makes it easier for stan to pretend nothing ever happened. But it’s still not easy. Also, if word ever got out that old man mcgucket used to be his boyfriend, he would never be able to live it down. So he compensates by being an ass towards him. Fuck. 

But then!! If fiddleford has the chance to heal!!! (say… maybe… when the twins are on the stan o war II) then stan would come back to gravity falls and see fiddleford looking like the person he knew thirty years ago!!!! WHAT!?!?! CAN’T RUN FROM YOUR PAST FOREVER, CAN YOU!?!?! And you KNOW fiddleford would remember what happened with stan. How long can stan keep himself in denial?? And now we’re opening up the can of worms: how the FUCK does this information reach ford?? That your brother used to canoodle with your research partner and might STILL BE?? That has so much potential too. 

Ok I wasn’t expecting to write those last two paragraphs but it’s A BIG PART OF WHY I LOVE FIDDLESTAN!!! It’s a crazy fucking rollercoaster ride!!! This thing has so many angles!!! And that’s just MY fiddlestan interpretation - I’ve seen a lot of different takes on the sort of story that would transpire between these two. But no matter what you’re cooking, It’s always a LOT. 

There’s probably so so much I didn’t touch on here. If anyone else wants to throw in their two cents as to why they like fiddlestan, please, add something!!!

[cherrys-muses]

Ok, a request for something angsty with Eddie:

You're Eddie's best friend, you have a lot in common with him, you like the same things, you're a nerd metalhead girl, and you want to invite him to prom and confess what you feel for him, but he tells you that he already invited another girl (maybe a kind of popular girl?) who was his lab partner. You choose the ending 👀

an; hi okay hello thank you for this. you’re the best. but also …. are you in my mind. i live for these type of angsty, lovesick, teenage years. w; doesn’t follow st timeline.

you’d met eddie in middle school — a skinny boy who had a buzzcut. sort of weird, you’d watched him many, many times during lunch, his laugh all but crazy as he and his friends made…slop from the cafeteria food.

mashed potatoes turned into a marsh with chocolate milk poured on top, the chicken nuggets that tasted stale and told served as ‘dinosaurs’ and the broccoli was propped into the mashed potato marsh as trees.

again, eddie munson was anything but normal — he was strange, funny, and smart (when he was actually applying himself to his work). a true artist as well — his journal had been filled with monsters from a new game, Dungeons & Dragons is what you’d heard him called it.

you’d made a passing complement on it once. a nice, ‘that’s cool, eddie.’ that passing comment was soon the start of a growing friendship between two kids in seventh grade.

two kids who were growing awkwardly in their uncomfortable bodies, where the mind couldn’t comprehend things at times — like, where did that zit come from? or even why did you suddenly need to keep going to the bathroom after every class once a week every month?

he’d learned quickly why.

but growing together and staying close through high school, you both had begun to understand feelings and thoughts more.

you’d begun to understand why you’d get nervous every time you were alone with eddie, why your hands would get clammy and why your throat would get dry.

you wouldn’t say anything. not yet. maybe not ever.

but you did know one thing; you wanted to go to prom with your best friend. it was something you both had made fun of at the beginning of high school, something for popular kids who only used daddy’s money to get whatever they wanted.

then as you watched eddie grow into himself — a boy who had once a buzzcut had grown his hair out, surprisingly curly. he wasn’t as shy before, but any of the slight hesitation he’d hold before doing something questionable was never there anymore.

like yelling across the cafeteria. cutting class to smoke under the bleachers. selling in the woods behind the school.

eddie munson was different in your eyes.

you’re trying hard to find the courage to ask him to prom. there’s a pizza on the coffee table, a beer bottle in his hand while your bottle of cherry coke leaves behind a wet mark on the table from the small droplets of water that drip down slowly.

clearing your throat, you shift on the couch. eddie’s eyes drift away from the television to you instead, lifting a brow. “you alright over there?”

“hm?” you look at him. oh. he’s so pretty. “oh, yeah. i’m good. just…watching the movie.”

eddie stares at you for a moment longer, letting out a small huff as he places his beer to the side. “oh, i asked vanessa to prom.” he says suddenly.

like it was nothing.

you watch as he reaches for another slice of pizza, blinking, and suddenly he’s already leaning back into the worn cushions of the couch, taking a bite of the pizza.

pinching your brows together, you shake your head. “the…one on the cheerleading team?” the pretty one who was always kind to everyone. the thought has your heart sinking, the feeling of a knot already forming in your throat.

which is stupid of you to already cry over something so small.

“yeah,” he nods. wiping the grease from the corner of his mouth. “we’re lab partners in science. she’s…nice. pretty.” he smiles a bit.

“oh…i thought…” he looks over at you, tilting his head slightly. “well, i just thought we would’ve went together,” his brows lift slightly.

you’re quick to cover yourself. “i mean, we made a pact to go together when we started high school to make fun of everyone who went.”

scoffing out a laugh, he shakes his head. “that was freshman year,” he pushes at your arm. “besides, you wouldn’t want to actually go. even if you did, you wouldn’t want to go with me.”

staying silent, you stare at him, lips pulled into a slight frown. the bite he’s about to take is forgotten when he slowly glances over at you.

lowering his hand, he sits up a bit straighter. “you didn’t want to go, right?”

pursing your lip, your head turns as you shake it. standing from the couch, you reach to grab your coat and bag from the ground. “it’s getting late. i need to get home.”

your quick on your feet as you walk over to the door, shoving your feet into your shoes. the door opens with a creak as you yank it open, quickly walking down the rickety steps.

the porch door creaks and slams shut a minute later. “hey, wait! why are you— let me drive you home at least.”

“no. i want to ride my bike,” you’re struggling with the padlock, a wave of anger and confusion washing over you as you pull at it. “why won’t this thing…”

eddie watches you with a frown. he says your name softly, a hand wrapping around your wrist. “i’m going to drive you home. it too dark and late for you to be riding home by yourself.”

clenching your jaw, you nod once. “i’ll come back and get my bike later.” you pull away from him quickly, walking towards his van.

you’re confused on why you’re feeling so much. confused why something so mundane makes you upset. angry because your confused. angry because he’s acting as if it doesn’t matter.

you don’t spare him a glance when he gets inside the van. you turn towards the door, resting your head against the window.

you’re quick to unbuckle when you see your house, reaching for your bag.

“i didn’t think it meant that much to you,” he suddenly speaks, causing your fingers to grip around the door handle. “the pact, i mean. if i would’ve known i would—”

“it doesn’t matter, eddie,” you shake your head. “it’s something stupid to get upset over anyway.”

“but it’s not. if it’s something that bothers you that much.”

letting out a small scoff with a laugh mingled in between, you shake your head. “that’s not even the reason i’m upset. i thought you and i would’ve went together anyway,” you finally look over at him. “wanting to go and make fun of people at prom isn't something that appeals me anymore. i just…”

pausing, your eyes trace over his features before staring back at his eyes. “i just wanted to go with you. i wanted to be with you.”

opening his mouth, eddie begins to speak. but you’re already opening the door and stepping out of the van, making your way towards the door.

eddie watches quietly, a small frown on his face. the door closes behind yourself, yet he still finds himself sitting outside your home for the next thirty minutes.

—

an old record plays as you read, some candy wrappers on your nightstand, fresh out of the shower in new clothing and a freshly cleaned bedroom.

it’s prom day. and even though you could’ve asked someone, you didn’t.

so, a productive day was in store. cleaning, dancing on small breaks, keeping your mind from wondering on how eddie might’ve looked tonight.

your parents were gone for the night — new shifts being picked up.

it was perfect. maybe.

hearing the doorbell, you perk up suddenly, rolling off the bed to slip on your slippers. the oversized shirt your wear slips off your shoulder slightly as you make your way down the steps.

grabbing the money that had been slipped into the bowl by the door for you, you open the door. “hi. it was—”

you pause when you see eddie in front of you. a pressed suit on, his hair in a low bun. he’s clean shaven, some sort of new cologne lingers on him.

“what are you doing here? your supposed to be at prom.”

“i—” eddie stares at you, watching as your brows furrow together slightly. the worry lines on your forehead deepen causes his heart to skip a beat, his chest slightly heaving as his palms grow clammy.

you look almost unreal. the light on the porch shines inside just right, highlighting your face. something catches in his throat as he steps over the threshold, pressing his lips against yours as his hands cradle your face.

your eyes are wide, hands raised in the air. eddie hasn’t pulled away and suddenly, you’re all too aware of what’s happening. the shock slowly settling as your eyes slowly close and hands lower to his shoulders.

he steps closer this time, one of his hands tangling into your hair as his thumb drags slowly across your cheekbone.

pulling away slowly, he watches as your head lowers, his lips grazing against your forehead. “what are you doing?”

“i couldn’t stop thinking about you,” his voice is soft, melted into something sweet. “that’s not anything new. i always think about you,”

you’re quick to look up at him once again. “i just…feelings are something that scares me. and when i realized how i felt about you,” his hand cups your cheek again, shaking his head. “how i truly felt, it scared me. i didn’t…couldn’t want to ruin something good.”

“eddie—”

“no,” he cuts you off. “i should’ve told you. i shouldn’t have kept you wondering for so long, im sorry. i’m so sorry,” he breathes, pressing another kiss to your lips.

your overwhelmed in both a good and bad way. he pulls away quickly, shaking his head again. “i couldn’t stop thinking about you. i love you,” he nods this time, pressing his forehead against your own. “i love you.”

closing your eyes slowly, your hands slide down his arm to wrap around his wrist softly. his nose nudges against yours, his lips grazing yours.

turning your head, your lips press a kiss to his palm softly before opening your eyes slowly. you glance at him, pressing another kiss to his other palm.

“i love you too, eddie,” you nod. “but this isn’t something i want you to be rash about. something that you’re just—”

“i’m not,” he cuts you off quickly. “i’m not being rash just because of the other night. it hurts. i dream about you every night. the home we have. the…” his breath is shaky.

“the kids we have. it feels real to me. it is real,” he nods. “this is real.” he whispers.

you stare at him quietly, before suddenly nodding. cupping his jaw, you press a kiss to his lips, pressing your forehead against his.

“this is real.” you whisper softly.