#well i wasn't thinking about it BEFORE!!!

[mina-org]

part two to this! Part three

warning for smut, 141 are panty sniffers! and more yanderery than the last! I have another part written but I just felt like was already dragged a lil so lmk if you want the next part! also not edited bc im lazy

“The birds just not fuckin’ into ya johnny. She never took this long to respond to me.” Simon smirks, truthfully he didn’t really remember but he was fucked off with this entire thing, not only was Johnny after his bird but texting you became a group sport, even the double text.

Simon seethes, usually you would've crawled back to him by now, you'd get drunk and call him sobbing from whatever pub you were at and you'd owe him, rinse and repeat.

At least if you were into Johnny he'd know what you were doing but now your absence started to eat at him, he just wondered your were like a deer fresh out the womb, learning to walk, how would you survive when Simon wasn't there to pick up your the pieces when you inevitably fell apart again.

simon couldnt take them fawning over you anymore so he returned to his bedroom, he had a little secret that he had to keep from those closest to him, your underwear. A collection really.

to start with, they were just tucked in his bag for when he was deployed, he’d push a pair around his cock, satin felt nice but the cream pair with little berries on? they were too cute and so you. He’d pump his cock until they were stick with his cum.

then when he was home more often and you were fucked too dumb to bounce on his cock, neglecting him after hes giving you so many? he'll remember that for next time. and really left him no choice but to scout out your discarded panties, maybe a fresh pair if you packed them, and he'd finish himself off before tugging them up your legs, his cum from earlier still leaking out your pretty pussy. something about you walking home in shame, carrying him with you, a sense of ownership simon loved.

now these panties were all he had, and he wasn't gonna share them. maybe with Johnny, if he was good.

after a week it just wasnt doing it for him anymore, he needed to see his girl but all his texts weren't sending:( and he hadn't seen you at the gym or the pilates class you spent so much money on. almost like your little temper tantrum was serious this time.

okay so it took simon a week or two to turn up begging, well demanding your forgiveness.

or he would've, if you answered the fucking door? after coming over and almost fighting your door guy a few times, he gets the hint, stealth is wealth and all that.

now here he is, staring at you through binoculars, on the rooftop opposite your building, like he's gathering intel or some shit. originally he was gonna keep this to himself, threes a crowd after all but it was chilly on the rooftop and simon is all about efficiency and your safety of course!

thing is, that pesky door man knows who simon is, and its doubtful a stick on moustache and boiler suit is gonna convince him that simon is also the buildings engineer!

through this process they've found out your building has a lot of security issues, nobody even thought about cyber security so when gaz sends out an email with a list of apartment numbers and a time, stating some maintenance was needed, no one bats an eye.

and of course you dont want any awkward conversations, like offering them tea or coffee 50 times while they try to focus but they'd think you rude if you dont and you can't ignore them, thats rude too. so you have to go out and stay out.

so you go shopping, you've been needing more underwear anyway!

soon enough John and gaz are in your apartment, putting up hidden cameras, slipping trackers into the linings of your most worn clothes, rifling through your belongings and testing out your perfume, trying to figure out which one you use daily from the memories of your scent lingering on simon and around the flat.

however gold is struck when they come across your laundry basket! feral is the best fitting word, Johnny will froth at the mouth once they tell him and of course share the bounty of their conquest.

taglist: @skeletonsucker @supernova2205 @wh0re4-alexademi @grr457

[thatdisasterauthor]

👀 i would be interested in hearing the deviantart points rant

Alrighty, the deviantART points rant. For context, I had a dA account from the time I was 12 and used it steadily until I was about 20. I was also a volunteer moderator with them for about a year, and they even offered me a job at one point. (But there was no way in heaven or hell they could've paid me enough to move to southern California, and god forbid they offer remote work.)

dA was one of the original social media behemoths. Never quite to the level of Twitter or Facebook, but if you were an artist you were on deviantART. It was a fantastic site back in its heyday. Artists got their start on there, recruiters were on there, art directors were on there, the community building features were fantastic. Yeah, it had its share of weird shit, but point me to a website that doesn't.

Multiple famous artists got their start on deviantART. Back then, it was a place you got real, legitimate work from. A place you could use to build a real, legitimate audience. The titans of early 2000s digital art that pretty much everyone knows (in the West, anyway), the ones who still have a massive effect on art styles today, basically all got their start on deviantART. It influenced the entire western culture of what art looks like on the internet, and that bled out into what art looks like everywhere else because these people made beloved shows and comics and movies and books and everything else.

But one of the best things about deviantART was that it was created at a time before everyone decided social media had to be slimmed down to its barest bones. It was a complex site, and there was a lot to it. That made it really easy for all levels of artists (and just plain art enjoyers) to use, and easy for them to make it function in a way that worked for them. This fostered a great environment where people of all skill levels could interact, share knowledge, and just absorb skills from one another.

Now, one area deviantART didn't initially cater to people was built-in payment options. They had a print shop you could upload your work to, but it was like Redbubble or Printful; merch selling, not custom work selling. So if artists wanted to offer commissions, they'd have to take payments elsewhere. (Usually Paypal.) Which was fine! That worked great!

But, well. Corporations gonna corporate. I forget the exact year, but one day they launched a new feature called Points. Points were a site specific currency, and they were one of the first (if not the first) to have such a thing. There were also some other things launched with it, including the ability to accept commissions with points as payment. You could also use points to buy site subscriptions, badges, stuff from the print shop, etc., or you could gift them to other people. You could also cash them out for real currency, for a fee (I wanna say the fee was 10%, and less if you were a subscribed user, but I can't remember exactly).

The conversion rate for Points was 1 Point=1US cent. Which seems fine on the surface! But the problem was psychological, because what they didn't do was actually make it look like that. Points instead looked like dollars, because there was no equivalent to actual CENTS in the Points ecosystem. So, for example, lets say you want to charge one dollar for something. That would look like this:

$1

P100.

Or ten dollars for something:

$10

P1000

Or a hundred dollars for something:

$100

P10000

See the problem? They're the same VALUE, but points just look massively bigger. This was especially a problem for people who didn't know what the conversion rate was because they just didn't know, or they were from other countries and REALLY didn't know because it wasn't related to their own currencies at all. (I think there was also a max amount of points you could charge for a commission, like a couple hundred dollars worth maybe? It was low when you converted it to real currency, if I'm remembering correctly.)

It devalued the art market like a knife to the gut. People were suddenly taking commissions for literal pennies just because the numbers LOOKED bigger. And because deviantART was such a hub for the art community, it bled out elsewhere. Prices started to dip other places too, because people who DID understand the conversion rate knew they could go on deviantART and get shit for super cheap from the people who didn't know or care. Which made other people lower their prices to compete, and it just resulted in a spiral to the bottom.

Would the art market have still tanked in the same way without the introduction of Points on dA? Maybe. But Points were the first domino to fall, and they were a massive one. The art market has never recovered even though deviantART has been 90% dead for going on a decade.

So yes. There's my internet history rant on Points and art values. Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk.

[ccccatttta]

jegulus fic where james is a youtuber/streamer who does all sorts of pretty crazy pranks and people ADORE him because he's totally shameless.

one day he gets dared to crash a wedding and oppose it, pretending to be in love with either the groom or the bride.

and even though his editor (and bestest friend) remus told him that that's fucking insane, james still chose to do it bc he's a menace. but he does promise to cut it all off if things get messy.

james gets everything ready and, after stalking some of his old school classmates, he finds that one of them is attending a wedding (it's mulciber, who james remembers to despise back then, so it's a win-win situation), which means his plan is all set.

by fate, and fate only, this wedding is regulus' and some girl's his parents chose for him (and mulciber was invited bc his family is very close to the black's)

and obviously, this is a clear forced marriage, regulus would rather kill himself than marry a girl, he's as gay as they come.

[for sake of the plot, sirius and james don't know each other at all, didn't go to school together either, and sirius didn't run away and is also livid with his parents for marrying reg off, but there wasn't anything he could do]

so! prank day, james is live the moment he, very dramatically, stands up and proclaims his love for this.... regulus guy, and how he knows he promised to not come but he just couldn't handle the thought of the love of his life being married to someone else (his followers thought he was going to claim to love the bride, but james found the groom way too cute and he just couldn't hold himself back, he's just a guy)

the 30 seconds of pure silence and shock that follow are almost enough to make james break character and start laughing like crazy.

regulus, who's flabbergasted by the way, knows immediately that it's a prank. however, this might as well be a sign of the gods, because, what are the chances that this (very handsome) random man, chose HIS wedding out of all, and targeted HIM to be the one he "loves"? way to many coincidences.

also, did he mention the dude is unbelievably fit?

he makes a choice right there.

using all his acting abilities, he makes a whole scene tearing up and running to him. it's so well done, james for a second believes they are actual lovers.

hell breaks at that moment, walburga goes absolutely nuts along with orion and their side of the family. the bride's family start a fight, and between the commotion regulus sees his brother laughing maniacally after their mother yells at regulus to stop playing games or he will get disowned.

james, who thinks that this is now along the lines of things getting messy, is about to announce it's all a prank, when regulus sees right through him, panics, and just whispers "im going to kiss you now, sorry" before snogging the life out of him.

remus, who's the camera guy, cuts the live right there.

james, oh james, he doesn't quite hear the screech walburga lets out because this backfired so bad, but jesus chirst can this regulus kiss. this is love at first sight. love at first prank, if you may.

regulus knowing stuff is about to get bad, just grabs james' hand and runs for it. james just follows, he's dizzy. remus also follows because he's NOT getting involved in all that, he's actually quitting james.

sirius follows too, if his little brother is finally disowned, there's no reason to stay, thank you very much.

anyways, this whole idea was just because i want james followers to see his channel thumbnails going:

CRASHING A RANDOM WEDDING 💍 PRANK #56

to

how i met the love of my life ; Q&A

and

REG AND I ARE GETTING MARRIED (im sealing all entries so no-one can crash it) — VLOG

bye

[hedgehog-moss]

My chickens have not been lucky this winter—the youngest one, Louise Michel, despite her revolutionary name, was eaten by a fox earlier this year. At least this new year was off to an auspicious start for this fox and her family. It made me think about Fantastic Mr Fox and how this book indoctrinates small children into directing their empathy towards the beleaguered fox family, while the hen characters are complete non-people—they are even called stupid at one point, even though they are just sitting in their coop, doing their chicken job!

Anyway. Dru survived the fox attack unscathed and non-traumatised, which made me respect her even more than I already did. Drusilla is quite old by now, and she has survived everything—the fox attack that killed her first coopmate, Cordélia; several air strikes by birds of prey; Pandolf trying to scare her to serve his own dog interests... Even though she has long stopped laying eggs, she is a precious asset to my chicken coop: I am going to get new baby hens in the spring and I need Dru to teach them her strategies to win the Darwinian struggle for existence. As an elderly hen, her job is no longer to provide eggs, but wisdom.

And then I heard Dru cry out one afternoon, as if she had been attacked by something.

I felt confused as I ran out to rescue her—I'd seen her just five minutes before when I went out to distribute hay, she was near the pasture gate hanging out with the llamas, donkey, and dog. There's no way a fox would attack a chicken surrounded by such a security detail. I quickly found her, sitting just outside the pasture, in her normal brooding position, she didn't seem hurt—but Pandolf ran towards her as well, and she didn't move out of his way. That was very unusual. Pandolf runs at things and people like a fluffy corrida bull, happy to knock you over with the force of his love (there's a reason the French equivalent of "like a bull in a china shop" is "like a dog in a bowling game"), and Dru always makes sure to jump out of his way, boosting herself with her wings if necessary.

I wondered if she had a broken wing, but when I started examining her she made a very eloquent "urghh go away" gesture at me with both of her wings, so she could move them. Her legs didn't seem injured either, but she refused to get up. I ended up carrying her back to her coop so she could sit in peace and process her feelings, but she wasn't feeling better the next morning. She clucked at me amicably when I visited her but she didn't go outside all day, so I had to leave food and water outside her room like a bemused parent trying to accommodate an angsty teenager.

Since I hadn't been able to detect any injuries and she was eating normally, I thought she might be depressed. Maybe it had taken her some time to understand that she had lost her friend and was all alone in her coop, and then the realisation had hit her, and her normal chicken activities suddenly felt meaningless. That didn't really explain the sharp cry I'd heard the day before, though.

(I hadn't noticed until I took a closer look at the above photo that there is a dirty stain on the wall of the laying box! Embarrassing. But to my defence, chickens are not very clean creatures and keeping their coop clean is a Sisyphean task. I guess I always focus on cleaning the parts where the hens sit and walk, and hadn't leaned over to look at the inside wall. I've now cleaned it up with a brush—but I almost regret doing so, because a friend gave the stain a beautiful and mystical interpretation:

I waited a couple of days to see if Dru's agoraphobia got better, but on Day 3 of her refusing to leave her coop, I decided to take her to the vet.

The farmer who was sitting next to Dru and me in the waiting room seemed very puzzled about my decision to bring a chicken past her prime and no longer laying eggs to the vet for a diagnosis. At first he assumed that I hoped to have her diagnosed as Safe To Eat.

I told him about how this hen is very good at surviving, and I want her to pass on her knowledge to future generations.

Dru looked cranky at the vet, maybe because there was a poster on the wall that said "What's for dinner tonight?" and she took it personally.

Fun chicken fact: the rounder a hen is, the angrier. She may look like an adorable cream puff, but she is a ball of rage:

The vet noticed that her leg was a bit swollen, and said it could be an infection, or maybe some heavy animal had stepped on her foot. He gave me antibiotics and anti-inflammatories and then I had fun trying to make my cranky chicken take her meds every day. Do you think getting a cat to take a pill is difficult? Try it with an animal who evolved from raptors.

Here are screenshots from a video (which my wifi refused to load)—Dru wasn't having a good time, but trust me, neither was I. It was a daily struggle. On the other hand, I discovered that she loves cherry tomatoes! I had a cherry tomato plant in my greenhouse that was only here to keep the aquaponic system going in the winter, I wasn't eating the fruit as they were bitter February tomatoes, and for some reason it didn't occur to me to offer them to my chicken until I was walking around the greenhouse looking for some insect to reward her for taking her medicine. The daily tomato treat delighted her a lot more than some boring insect :)

Well, we are reaching the end of this adventure—Dru will get new coopmates soon (and hopefully start teaching them her secrets immediately) and the vet visit was very worth it 😊 She still has trouble going down the ladder of her coop so I go get her every morning and carry her near my house, but she is walking and, more importantly, scratching around for food again! Here's a little video:

Oh, no, wait, we aren't done—I must ask everyone to take part in the Trial of Pirlouit.

The vet did say it looked as if some heavy animal had stepped on Dru's foot... Considering the llamas are very delicate walkers, and Pandolf is a reckless brute but isn't heavy enough to break a chicken's leg, this makes Pirlouit the main suspect.

[kyri45]

A final letter

Hello Everyone!

The queue is paused and everything is scheduled, which means we are ready for the finale!

I know that, in the end, this was just a silly side project for me, with everything else going on in my life. But for this occasion, I wanted to drop some words here and hope they make sense.

I started watching LMK only because a friend told me there was a "Sonadow-coded" ship. I ended up consuming the entire thing in one sitting on July 10th, 2024. At the time, I was still recovering from a bike accident that had left me with a broken right forearm—unable to draw for a little over a month. (I did try drawing with my left finger, but it wasn't exactly fun.)

Not only that, but it was summer, and I couldn’t enjoy the season or practice my main sport, windsurfing. To say I was feeling the blues is an understatement. I remember being in physical pain just from not being able to draw my sillies. But then, watching LMK did something to my brain chemistry that my little undiagnosed autistic self had never experienced before. It hit so hard that I’ve been physically unable to rewatch the show SINCE that very first day. (And y’all still call me the CEO of this fandom. Bro, I just work here.)

A lot of you have asked what inspired me to start this comic or to draw LMK fan art in the first place. While my usual answer is, "I saw Shadowpeach and thought MK could be their lovechild, given his appearance," the moment that actually started it all was THIS ONE—

(I HAD TO REWATCH THIS SCENE TO MAKE THE GIF AND IT HURT ME ON A MOLECOLAR LEVEL)

I have… a thing for characters who discover their entire identity was something else all along. It consumes my thoughts, my dreams, my every waking moment. I live for identity crises, for characters who thought they knew who they were, only to be forced to rediscover themselves, their existence, and their place in the world. If you give me a story where a character has to go through that, I will like it—regardless of how bad the rest of the story is.

Pair that with loads of trauma, daddy issues, the pressure of a legacy, and world-ending stakes, and congrats! Now I’m obsessed, and I will not stop thinking about it for the rest of my days!

At first, my brain just wanted to release some of that energy with a small, four-panel post about the monkeys discovering that MK was technically their kid.

That was supposed to be it.

But since I never seem to learn my lesson, it didn’t stay like that. Because once I started drawing, I just... continued.

And

I

never

stopped.

A lot of you have also asked how I found the motivation to draw so much, to never take a break. Well, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it one last time: I am my number one fan. No matter how much you laughed, cried, screamed, or went feral over this story, I did all of that and more. Because I got to think about the chapters months before they released. I got to daydream about them. I got to watch them come to life—first through sketches, then line art, then dialogue. And finally, I got to witness your reactions and see the incredible creations you made, inspired by my story.

So yeah, in a way, it was almost an addiction. A good addiction. Because, for the first time in my life, I actually understood what loving art means.

I’ve been drawing for ten years, working professionally for five, but I never loved art before. I just liked it because I happened to be good at it. But creating this comic made me understand why artists say, "Oh, I’ve loved drawing since I was a child!" This was the first time I allowed myself to create purely for my own enjoyment. Something I hadn’t had the privilege to do for a long time.

Other than making me feel even more single than I already was, this story somehow also helped me a little with my own family relationships. So yeah. Crazy how the gay monkeys changed my life.

Of course, I never could have predicted how much traction my AU would gain. Man, y’all were really starving to latch onto something this silly. /j

But yeah—thank you. Thank you for sticking around until the end, for having the patience and trust to follow the story even when I made you rage with angst and cliffhangers. (The statement in my bio still stands: I am not responsible for any physical or emotional damage my art has caused.)

I’m absolutely shit at thanking people, or at writing, or at talking in general, honestly. I’m the furthest thing from being good with words, so I hope the final chapter will be enough to show you my gratitude.

Through this story, I met so many wonderful, talented people. I watched as fans across different platforms found each other through memes and fanart of the AU. I saw artists start their own AUs inspired by mine, growing their own communities. I witnessed an explosion of creativity and collaboration through our takeovers. And I laughed along with you all.

And yeah—at its core, this story has always been about love. Whether it’s platonic, sibling, parental, romantic, or whatever the hell Mac and Wukong had going on for millennia.

At its heart, it’s a story about family.

And maybe, in the end… the real family wasn’t just the one in the comic, but the one we’ve found together along the way. 💛

See you all at the finale.

Love you all, freaks /affectionate

Jade

[shiftingwithcha]

so...I shifted and I am freaking out !

Hello people! I hope you are all doing amazing! For everybody that is reading this and want to shift, I hope it gives you motivation!

So firstly y'all need to know that my DR is Stranger Things (season 3 because the mall looks fire). I have found this walkman from my dad like maybe a week ago and decided to listen to my Billy Joel mixtape. I bought those melatonin gummies and decided to try it out and I ate 2 of those as well.

WHAT I DID BEFORE SHIFTING:

So I laid down on my bed, my walkman in my hand and I close my eyes as I felt the gummies having their effects on me. I started to fall asleep and as the music went on I started to count and just feel my body and my surrounding as I was just focusing on waking up in my dr.

As I was trying to keep my focus on my music I slowly started to feel myself just melt in my bed and my music was slowly fading out and coming back but all of a sudden it just stopped, which at first made me so confused because it is supposed to be 45 minutes long and I then felt like I wasn't in my bed. I was elsewhere.

THE STORY TIME:

As I felt this weird feeling, I realised I was slowly waking up and someone was actually just shaking my shoulder. I opened my eyes and didn't feel my headphones nor the walkman in my hands. I turn to the person that was shaking me awake and it was Hopper (he is my dad there). He looked at me and it is AT THIS MOMENT THAT I REALISED THAT IT WAS NOT A FREAKING DREAM.

I looked around and I was a bit freaked out because this is clearly not like a freaking lucid dream nor a normal dream. He looked at me and basically just said: "can you get your butt up because Marie (my best friend there) keeps spamming the phone and won't stop calling until you wake up"

So I got up and freaked out a bit and Hopper noticed that and went: "are you good? You look disoriented". I assured him I was alright but in my head I was FREAKING OUT. I was happy he couldn't see how my brain was ticking in my brain because he would have been sooo worried.

I got myself ready and as I was putting my shoes on, Marie came and I got in her car. We were heading to the mall. I was so happy and still was freaking out how IT IS ALL FREAKING ALL REAL. I was looking around I was almost on the verge of actually pinch marie to see if she would react but instead I was just playing with the radio she had in her car and she was like: " what the hell are you doing? You know my freaking radio does not work so don't bother trying". And I was like: "Yeaaa yea I totally knew that already!!". (I think she was suspicious about something)

We then arrived to the mall and we just started to hang out and just shop around at the Gap especially and other store. We even took a look at the Radio Shack that they had and it just computer stuff but still hella cool (I kind of miss Bob). THE MALL IS HUGE. THEY ARE SO MUCH STUFF TO DO THERE IT IS JUST CRAZY.

Then Marie and I decided (mostly Marie) to go to scoops and guess who works there???? STEVE WORKS THERE AAAAH. I was totally trying not to freak out but it was hard not to. So basically we walked in and I was trying to keep myself concentrated on Marie and I went like: "Oh so Robin works here? I bet you only wanted to see her because you like her right?" I was basically teasing Marie with Robin and I waved at Robin. She is so so nice. And she waved back while Marie literally answered me: "okay stfu she is right there".

And then..I saw him...Steve freaking Harrington. He has the sweetest smile. If I was an ice cream I think I would have melted like RIGHT THERE ON THE SPOT. HIS SMILE IS SO PRECIOUS BUT ANYWAYS. We walked and he just always has this thing that he passes him hand through his hair all the time??? It is a bit annoying but his hair looks so fluffy as well.

We walked to the counter and Steve and Robin were just bickering about that stupid board with "you suck/you rule". But he just cut the conversation and talked to us saying: "Hi you guys want anything?" And I STAYED SILENT I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO ANSWER AND HE LOOKED AT ME AND SAID: "Oh it has been a while since we have seen each other ah!" AND I WAS JUST PANICKING RIGHT ONTHE SPOT AND I WENT LIKE: "oh yea.. you are right it has been a while!"

So after that he looked at us and said: "So maybe so cherry jubilee ice cream?" He was a bit fighting with Robin because I believe that since Robin also has a crush on Marie she wanted to serve us just so she could talk to Marie. And while marie agreed to it I said that I wanted to taste the blue ice cream which was "smurf's flavour" AND IT WAS DELICIOUS but he literally said like: "that is the one we sell the less because it has the worst flavour of all" and was like "I don't care I want this one" AND THE WAY HE SHRUGGED HIS SHOULDERS AND PULLED OUT HIS FREAKING SCOOPER MAN...I am a fan for this man.

So...I asked for one scoops only but he gave me 3 instead and I didn't had to pay omg like what??? What a gentleman. So I thanked him and walk to a table with marie and sat down my back facing the counter so I couldn't see them. And after we were talking about some random stuff with Marie I FEEL SOMEONE WALKING NEXT TO ME AND IT WAS FREAKING STEVE. I lightly tapped my shoulder with his index finger and went like: "oh yea..do you...know about that party tonight? Do you plan on going?" and I look at Marie and frowned a bit saying "Well I would love to, but I would only be allowed to go if Marie and Jonathan were going" So marie agreer to it as Robin was also gonna be there.

So I agreed on going and he was like: "Oh well can't wait to see you again!!" After we finished our ice cream and as I grab all my shopping bags he grabs one of mine and looks at me and say: "oh don't forget this one" and I went like: "Oh yea sure give it to marie thank you" I SWEAR I MUST HAVE SOUND SO DRY BUT I WAS JUST SO FREAKED OUT!

So me and Marie walked out and she brought me back home Hopper was not there because he must have been to work. Eleve was not there either and I still don't know where she was probably at Mike's. Marie left to go grab some stuff and as I settled down on my bed I was thinking about all the stuff that happened to far and I was thinking about shifting back so I could enjoy my next shift without freaking the fuck out.

so I shifted back and woke to my walkman but it was not playing anymore it was just turning.. SO THAT WAS JUST AMAZING AND I CAN'T STOP FREAKING OUT OF HOW REAL THIS IS AAAAAH.

[this-is-tiny-mia]

Sorry, wrong number (H.S. One Shot) Part 2.

THIS IS A PART 2 - YOU CAN FIND PART 1 HERE Summary: A wrong-number text leads to an unexpected connection between a you and a stranger. What starts as a playful exchange quickly becomes the highlight of their days, leaving you curious about the man behind the messages.

A/n: OKAY again, i wasn't expecting SO MUCH love to this One shot, i actually wasn't expecting anything tbh, I want to thank @eileenrry for giving me the last push to publish it, ily 🥹. Just a reminder, english is not my first language bare with me with grammar. and it's also my first One shot so be gentle 🥹. Andddd this isn’t the end there’s one more part coming. Anddd please let me know if I missed someone in the tag list, I’m trying to get used to tumblr again after a few years so everything it’s upside down for me.

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: Use of y/n, slow burn but things catch up quickly at the end, a small vulnerable moment. (idk if it counts as angst, please let me now if i should add another warning)

You froze, gripping your cup as if it could somehow tether you to reality. Your mind raced—what were you supposed to do now? Walk over and say hi? Pretend you didn’t see him? Was he expecting you to make the first move? Or maybe you were just desperately hoping to wake up from this fever dream.

Before you could decide, he pushed off the wall and started walking toward you. Shit. Shit. Shit. Your heart pounded in your chest. Every step he took felt deafening, like the slow-motion build-up to a climactic movie scene.

By the time he reached your table, you were caught between bolting for the door or sinking into your seat to avoid collapsing altogether. You knew him, of course—who didn’t? A few years ago, you even considered going to one of his concerts but didn’t manage to get tickets. It wasn’t something that crushed you; you weren’t the kind of fan to cry yourself to sleep over it. Instead, you shrugged it off with an “Okay, maybe next time.”

What you didn’t know was that “next time” would turn out to be a one-on-one meeting with him in a café, while he tried (and failed) to stay incognito.

“Hi,” he said, sliding off his sunglasses. That voice—his voice—sent a shiver down your spine. And then came that signature, disarming smile. “Is this seat taken?” he asked as he sat down without waiting for an answer. Of course, it wasn’t taken.

You stared at him, frozen, your mouth slightly parted. Every movement he made was deliberate yet casual, like he was completely at ease in this moment. Meanwhile, your brain was still scrambling to process whether this was real life or a fever dream. Somehow, you managed to breathe out a shaky, “Hi.”

For a moment, the space between you was thick with silence, though not uncomfortable—just charged. He gave you a sheepish smile, scratching the back of his neck like he wasn’t entirely sure how to begin.

“I guess this is the part where the serial killer takes the victim,” he said, teasing to break the tension. “Lucky for you, I’m not one—as you can see.”

You blinked, finally finding your voice, though it was a little wobbly. “No, no, I clearly see you’re not a serial killer.” A nervous smile tugged at your lips, trying its best to outshine the chaos of emotions tumbling through you.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and reassuring. “Yeah. Guess fate wanted me to see if you’re as interesting in person as you are over text.”

Your face flushed, your mind racing to keep up. You weren’t sure if it was from embarrassment, disbelief, or something else entirely—a weird kind of thrill that you couldn’t quite place.

“Well,” you said, fighting to steady your voice, “I guess this is where I admit I didn’t think you were real—or at least, not this real.”

“How not ‘this real’?” he asked, his head tilting slightly as curiosity glinted in his eyes. “I mean, I’m way too real right now.”

“Like… I thought I was texting a random Harry,” you said, stumbling through your words, trying to explain yourself without sounding completely ridiculous.

“I’m still a random Harry,” he replied with a small shrug, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

Well, he wasn’t exactly wrong. To himself, he was just Harry—not the Harry. You sat there for a moment, considering his words. In some strange way, nothing about him being this Harry changed what you’d already come to know. It didn’t undo the weeks of shared thoughts, the genuine conversations, the effortless way you clicked.

You thought about the little quirks you’d picked up from his texts—the way he used emojis just enough to be endearing but not overkill, the offhanded pictures of random things he’d shared, the teasing yet thoughtful tone that felt so easy to respond to. Famous or not, none of that felt fake.

“You’re right,” you said finally, a small smile breaking through your nervousness. “You’re still just Harry. The same Harry who asked for help picking nail polish colors like it wasn’t a BIG decision for a BIG brand” His laugh came easily, soft but genuine. “Hey, it wasn’t that big, i told you i already had those colors in mind.” He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “But honestly, I’m glad it was you on the other side of those texts.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse still racing, but his words—and the way he said them—settled something in you. Maybe this wasn’t as surreal as it seemed. Maybe it was just two people who happened to find each other, one text at a time. “Why glad?” you asked, frowning slightly, not quite understanding what he meant. He leaned back a little, a soft smile playing on his lips as he considered his response.

“Because,” he said after a moment, “it’s rare these days to have a conversation that feels real, you know? No filters, no pretense. Just… people being themselves. And with you, it felt like that from the start.”

You blinked, his words hitting a little deeper than you expected.

“I mean, I didn’t know I was texting someone who I needed filters for to begin with,” you joked, trying to lighten the moment. He laughed, the sound warm and easy, a sound that felt like it reached across the table and wrapped around you. “That’s the point,” he said.

You paused, taking in his words. It felt big, weighty, yet oddly simple at the same time. Like he was trying to say something beyond the words themselves, but without complicating it. Instead of overthinking it, you just nodded, letting out a small, genuine smile.  “Well,” you said softly, meeting his eyes, “I’m glad it was me, too.”

He didn’t have much time that day, just stopping for a coffee on his way to the studio. You secretly wished this was that rom-com moment because moments like this only existed in movies, right? After some light small talk about the coffee and an exchange of polite goodbyes, he stood up to leave. You stayed behind, frozen, letting it all sink in—this wasn’t a dream. You felt butterflies over a pop star. You’d been talking to him for more than a month without knowing. Suddenly, your boring, predictable life felt like it belonged to someone else. It didn’t even matter what would happen from now on—this was your story.

----

"Morning, Tulip 🌷. Today’s question: Favorite recent album of all time?"

You didn’t expect a text from him the morning after. You figured he’d need time to process the fact that you’d actually met in person. But no, there he was, texting you like nothing had changed, his chill demeanor so endearing it almost made your heart ache.

"Is this a trick question?" you replied, grinning at your phone. "Because I don’t want to hurt your feelings if I don’t say it’s one of your albums."

The thought was surreal—bantering and teasing Harry Styles over text? That was straight out of fanfic material. (A/n: Not me breaking the fourth wall in my first fic lol.)

"Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting you to say one of my albums," he replied. Of course, he wasn’t.

"‘You’ by Larry Lovestein," you texted back after a moment of thought.

"Love that," he responded quickly.

How was anyone supposed to concentrate on mundane daily tasks after meeting Harry Styles in a café the day before? And not only that, but he was texting you like you were the most interesting person in the world. And—AND—he had a nickname for you! A nickname.

"Y/N?" Gwen’s voice jolted you back to reality. You blinked twice, trying to refocus. "Yes?"

"Coffee?" she asked, smirking knowingly as she handed you a cup. "What’s up with you?" she said, sitting down next to you. 

"Nothing… just… clients, emails," you said quickly, trying to act like your insides weren’t throwing a full-blown party.

"Clients and emails, huh?" Gwen raised a skeptical eyebrow. "I’ve never seen you smile like that over clients and emails."

You swallowed hard, thankful she wasn’t too nosy. You didn’t want to risk sharing too much, not when you were casually texting with Harry Styles. That thought lingered—Why did he trust you? He could’ve easily stayed anonymous. He could’ve walked away from the café and pretended it never happened. Instead, he chose to tell you. It was terrifying to imagine how vulnerable that decision must’ve been for him. What if you were the wrong person? Someone who’d plaster it all over social media the next day? The weight of his trust settled over you, and for the first time, you realized just how fragile this connection was—and how much you wanted to protect it.

You weren’t rushing into anything; neither of you were. It was easy, light, and fun—like reconnecting with a long-lost friend, only this friend was Harry Styles. Over the next month, the “question game” continued, but it evolved. There were more pictures, videos, and now… voice notes. Yes, voice notes. You couldn’t help but replay them at the end of the day, savoring the sound of his voice as if it were a melody written just for you.

The intimacy deepened as more pieces of your lives were shared. Selfies of him at the studio, casual and effortless—selfies meant only for you. These weren’t circulating on Twitter or stashed in some secret Reddit thread. They were yours alone. And you shared back: snapshots of your day-to-day life—your desk cluttered with coffee cups, a corner of your office bathed in sunlight, and even a shy selfie taken at the café table where you’d first met him.

You didn’t know if you could call it a real friendship just yet, but it certainly felt like one. There was a comfortable rhythm between you now, a bond that felt genuine and unforced.

He clearly didn’t have much free time to casually meet again, though you hadn’t asked. The idea of seeing him in person again was both thrilling and terrifying. It wasn’t just his fame—it was the weight of the connection you were building. Trust was a fragile thing, and you both seemed to understand that. Brick by brick, you were quietly constructing something that felt worth protecting.

“How’s THIS cold today??” you texted, attaching a selfie where only your eyes peeked out from beneath two bulky jackets, a beanie, and a scarf. The icy weather was relentless, and staying home had been the original plan, but of course, the two important files you needed were on your office computer.

“How are you OUT in THIS cold? That’s the question” he replied almost immediately

“I need some files I left at the office. Forgot to upload them yesterday”

“Don’t freeze out then”

“I’ll try.”

You smiled at the screen, tucking your phone back into your pocket. It was so easy—he was so easy to talk to. You didn’t feel the need to answer immediately, and you didn’t panic when he didn’t either. It was a natural back-and-forth, effortless and grounding. The way he interacted with you made you feel like he wasn’t someone crazy famous, like he was just Harry—your Harry, in a way. And you hadn’t told anyone yet. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but you hesitated to share it. How would people react? Would they even believe you? For now, you were content to keep it to yourself. It felt special this way, untouched by the opinions or expectations of others. Just you and him, chatting like old friends.

In your mind, it was going to be a quick trip—drive downtown, grab the files, and rush back home under a cozy blanket. In your mind. But life had other plans, didn’t it? 

Sliding into your car after uploading the files and rubbing your hands for warmth, you turned the key in the ignition. A rusty, choking sound filled the air, followed by... nothing. “I’m sorry??” you exclaimed, staring at the dashboard as though sheer willpower would coax it to life. “No, no, no, you can break down TOMORROW! Not now!” Your fingers fumbled to turn the key again, and again, each attempt more pathetic than the last.

With a defeated sigh, you slumped back against the seat, a puff of breath visible in the freezing air. Accepting your fate, you pulled out your phone and opened your insurance app to report the issue. Unsurprisingly, the weather had caused delays, and it would be a while before they could send a tow truck. You quickly snapped a screenshot of the insurance chat and sent it to Harry. 

“I don’t know if I can keep my promise of not freezing out.”

His reply came almost instantly. “What?? Your car broke down??”

“Yep. They say it’s going to be a while because of the weather” you texted back.

“Where you at?”

“Parked in front of my office,” you replied, your stomach doing a small flip at how fast he was responding.

“No, I mean the address” he sent back.

Your heart skipped a beat. Was he serious? You immediately typed back

“Don’t even try it, I’m fineeee,” 

You lied, knowing full well you weren’t fine at all. But it wasn’t the cold or the broken-down car that had your stomach in knots. It was the thought of Harry coming to “save you” that sent a swarm of butterflies into overdrive. Because it wouldn’t just mean Harry coming to help. It meant seeing him again��really seeing him—since the big reveal. No screen between you, no casual texts to ease the nerves. Just him, in person, showing up for you in a way that made it harder to ignore what was happening between you two.

And as much as that idea thrilled you, it scared you just the same.

“Please?”

That was all it took. How can a girl resist a please from Harry Styles? Go ahead, i’ll be here waiting if you find someone. You sighed, caved, and typed the address, pressing send without overthinking. He didn’t reply, but he didn’t need to—you both knew what was about to happen. No confirmation was necessary.

Twenty-six minutes later, you were bundled in your car, trying to stay warm and still, counting down the seconds until the surreal became reality. The street was eerily quiet—only a few brave souls trudging through the cold. Who in their right mind would be out in this weather? That’s when you saw it—a black car pulling up right in front of yours. Your breath hitched as you recognized him in the rearview mirror, his eyes catching yours for a fleeting moment. Then, your phone buzzed.

“Did you order an Uber?”

You let out a chuckle, a mix of nerves and amusement, and grabbed your purse. Stepping out into the biting cold. Sliding into the passenger seat, everything about this moment felt surreal. The warmth of the car, the subtle hum of the engine, and, most of all, him—Harry, sitting next to you like this was the most natural thing in the world. Your movements felt slower, deliberate, as though your body and mind were bracing themselves for what this meant. Sitting in the same car with Harry Styles wasn’t something you had ever imagined happening, not like this.

“Hi again” you said softly, your breath visible in the cold air.

“Hi” he replied, flashing that disarming smile. “Need a friendly lift? or should I just keep pretending I’m an Uber driver?” You laughed, the tension melting just a little. 

“Well, that depends…what’s your rating?”

“Solid five stars,” he said, easing the moment even further. And just like that, the butterflies in your stomach settled into something a little calmer, a little more certain.

“Sounds good then,” you replied, falling into a silence that was more reflective than awkward. Your mind was spinning with a million thoughts—what this meant, how this even happened, and whether you’d wake up any second now.

“So, where to?” he asked, breaking the silence with a soft smile.

“Oh! Right,” you snapped out of your daze, quickly explaining where you lived. It hit you how crazy this was—months ago, you’d been so cautious, terrified to even drop a vague hint about your location. And now? Now, Harry Styles was driving you to your apartment.

“You really didn’t have to,” you said, glancing at him.

“I know,” he replied, flashing a smile that made your heart stutter.

The drive was… nice. Surprisingly nice. The small talk flowed naturally—not forced, not the awkward kind you’d exchange in an elevator. It felt easy, even comforting. If you didn’t look at him for too long, you were almost able to suppress the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. Almost.

“Weren’t you busy? It’s a Thursday,” you asked, realizing the absurdity of the situation.

“You really think I know what day it is?” he replied, his tone light and sincere, not smug or pretentious—just endearingly innocent. You couldn’t help but laugh. 

“What, no color-coded calendar?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Nope. I’ve got the schedule of a 60-year-old retiree, not a nine-to-fiver. Days kind of blend together, you know?”

And there it was again—that disarming charm that made it all feel so normal. So easy. Like this wasn’t the most surreal thing that had ever happened to you.

“Yeah, I should’ve guessed,” you muttered with a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

The whole drive, your mind raced with scenarios. What would happen when you reached your apartment? Do you invite him in? Do you just thank him and say goodbye? And if—by some miracle—he did come in, did you even remember to pick up the clothes from the bathroom floor? But before you could spiral any further, his voice cut through your thoughts, casual and confident, like he already had the answers to all your questions.

“Can I invite myself over for a tea?” he asked, pulling into a parking spot in front of your building.

You blinked, caught off guard. “I was going to invite you,” you said quickly, defending yourself as you scrambled to regain composure.

“No, you weren’t,” he replied with a teasing grin, already stepping out of the car. And just like that, you knew the decision had been made for you. Butterflies? Gone. They’d evolved into full-blown fireworks. You shakily opened the door, praying the apartment was in some semblance of order. To your relief, aside from two glasses sitting on the kitchen counter, everything was in place.

“You can still blow me off if you’re busy,” he said, stepping inside and glancing around, taking in your space with quiet curiosity.

“It’s fine. Perks of being a freelancer,” you replied, heading to the kitchen and opening a cabinet to search for tea. “I don’t have many flavors, though,” you admitted, scanning the limited options.

“Well, it’s a good thing I like most,” he said with an easy grin. “I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

“Okay,” you said softly, smiling as you set the kettle on to boil. While waiting for the water to heat, you found yourself watching him. He wandered a bit, casually inspecting the books on the shelf, a framed photo on the wall, and the little details of your life.

It was surreal—a good surreal—watching Harry Styles in your apartment, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Like how? How was this happening? And why did it feel so oddly natural, like a longtime friend had stopped by for a chat?

The sharp whistle of the kettle broke your trance. You quickly poured the tea, handing him one of the steaming mugs.

“Thanks,” he said, taking it with a small nod. Then, as if sensing your disbelief, he gave you a sly smile. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you lied, taking a sip of your tea to avoid answering further. Were you okay? Absolutely not.

He sat down on the couch, cradling the mug in his hands, and you followed, sitting on the armchair across from him. The silence wasn’t awkward—it was comfortable, filled with the sound of the occasional sip of tea and the faint hum of the heater working overtime against the cold.

“Nice place,” he said, his eyes scanning the room again before settling on you. “Feels very...you.”

You tilted your head, curious. “What does ‘me�� feel like?”

He chuckled softly. “Warm, cozy. A little bit of chaos in the details.” He nodded toward the stack of papers on your desk.

You groaned and put your head in your hands. “Okay, maybe I wasn’t fully prepared for company.”

“Nah, it’s perfect,” he said, grinning. “Makes it feel real.”

You smiled at that, the tension in your shoulders easing. “And your place? What’s it like?”

He leaned back, thinking for a moment. “Depends which one,” he teased, and you rolled your eyes dramatically. 

“Okay, fancy. You know what I mean. The one that feels most like home.”

His expression softened. “It’s quiet. Lots of books. A few random things I’ve collected over the years. Nothing too extravagant.”

“That’s not what I imagined,” you admitted honestly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What did you imagine?”

You hesitated, wondering if you should hold back or just say it. “I don’t know. Something...flashier? Like an MTV Cribs episode or something.” He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that filled the room.

“God, no. I’d hate living like that. Flashy isn’t my thing.”

The conversation flowed from there—effortless and natural. You talked about little things, like favorite movies and weird food combinations, and at some point, you stopped feeling like you had to pinch yourself. It just felt like two people enjoying tea on a cold day. Eventually, though, the tea mugs were empty, and the silence settled in again, this time heavier with unspoken thoughts.

“I should probably get going soon,” he said, breaking the stillness.

Your heart sank a little, but you nodded. “Right. Of course.”

He stood, stretching a bit, and you followed him to the door. He hesitated there, turning to look at you with a small, almost shy smile.

“Thanks for the tea,” he said, lingering. “And...for letting me pick you up.”

“Anytime,” you said softly, and you meant it.

As he stepped out into the cold, he glanced back one last time. “See you soon?”

“Yeah,” you said, watching him walk to his car, the promise of “soon” hanging in the air. You closed the door behind him, leaning against it as you exhaled a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. The room felt emptier now, even though he’d only been there for a short time. You glanced at the two empty mugs on the table, a small smile tugging at your lips.

For a moment, you let yourself replay everything in your mind—the way he casually fit into your space, the warmth in his voice, the way he lingered just a little before leaving. But then, your phone buzzed.

“Thanks again. Made the cold much more bearable.”

----

“Are you dating someone?” Gwen asked, her smile widening as she caught you grinning at your phone.

 “What? No, I would’ve told you,” you replied quickly, placing your phone face down on the table. Normally, that would’ve been true—you’d tell her about a new guy or someone interesting in your life without hesitation. But this wasn’t a normal situation. This was different. And as much as you tried to keep it hidden, clearly your expression was giving something away.

“Would you, though?” she teased, leaning in slightly, her tone playful but probing.

“Yes, I promise,” you said, hoping to sound convincing. Deep down, you felt a twinge of guilt. You’d apologize later for lying to her—she’d understand. At least, you hoped she would.

“What’s something you’ve never told anyone before?”

You hesitated, the weight of his question lingering in the air. “Something I’ve never told anyone?” you said to yourself, stalling, your mind racing. “Okay… when I was younger, I used to think I wasn’t enough for the things I really wanted. Like, I’d convince myself it was better not to try because failing would just prove it. I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone that before.”

You stared at the text, feeling vulnerable. Naked even. It wasn’t easy to admit things like that, not even to yourself. But somehow, with him, it didn’t feel as scary. The way he spoke, the way he made you feel like he’d never judge you, created a space that felt safe.

"I think wanting things, letting yourself want them, is the bravest part. Like… taking that first step, you know? Even if it’s scary. Besides, from what I can tell, you’re more than enough. Probably always have been. You just needed to catch up to it."

You read that, smiling softly at your screen. It was strange—how he could make you feel like all those nagging voices in your head didn’t stand a chance against his words. Like he had this way of dissolving your doubts faster than your therapist ever could. Maybe it was because you believed him so easily, the way he spoke like he knew something you didn’t, like he could see a future you hadn’t dared to imagine yet.

"Wow, how much you charge per therapy session?" you texted, hoping to lighten the moment without brushing it off. "Your turn," you added, nudging him back into the conversation.

The pause before his response wasn’t long, but it was enough to make you wonder what he might say next.

"Sometimes, I miss being no one. Just… Harry. Not Harry Styles. I love what I do, don’t get me wrong. But there’s a part of me that wishes I could walk into a room and not feel like I have to be something for everyone. It’s strange. How can you be surrounded by people all the time and still feel like no one really sees you?"

You read his words slowly, letting them settle in. And then it hit you—both of you knew the feeling. Both of you felt seen by each other in the way you both wanted to be seen. It didn’t need to be said out loud, but it was there, clear as water.

"I met you as Just Harry. And ‘Just Harry’ is pretty awesome to me 😉. I still see Just Harry"

His reply came almost instantly.

"Thanks, Tulip 🌷❤️."

You stared at the screen, your heart skipping a beat. The little red heart stood out in the conversation like a tiny, unspoken promise. It was the first one either of you had shared. And somehow, it felt like a beginning.

The day went on as usual, no more texts exchanged. Both of you were busy, focused on work, yet your mind kept wandering back to Harry. How everything between you was unfolding—it wasn’t painfully slow, but it wasn’t rushing either. It was just… perfect.

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him. Sometimes you even laughed, scrolling through the gossip and pictures of him on Twitter. THIS is the man you knew? The same man who shared something he hadn’t told anyone else? It felt surreal.

Millions of people thought they knew him, adored him, and claimed a piece of him for themselves. But you—you really knew him. In a way that was different. Special. Personal. It was crazy to think about, but somehow, it felt right.

You were scrolling through many tweets in bed when it came. Another text.

"I’ve been around the world and back, and I still find myself wanting to talk to you about everything. What does that mean?"

--- Taglist: @jackiehollanderr @proudravenclawbird @hopeyoustaythenight @maryjahps @obsessiveenthusiast @liiit44 @loveheart-123 @harrystyleshotwife @harryscherries28 @addiemb8332 @cumuluscranium @gguksfilter @alemunson42069 @sarah22194 @summertime-pills @hescrush @cosmomento @harrys-wifeyy

[luv-lock]

ㅤֹㅤ⊹ㅤ #ㅤALIEN GIRLㅤ.ᐟ ֹ ₊ ꒱

☆⁠ PAIRING : Yandere Mark Grayson x Fem Qu Reader Part 3

☆⁠ HEADCANON : You were pregnant... And your pregnancy wasn't normal... Especially not something that mark expected...

☆⁠ NOTES : Qu is an alien species from the book All Tomorrows. You can learn more about her here. English is not my first language. Hope you enjoy!

Mark started noticing things.

It began with small stuff.

Shiny things went missing—coins, keys, a silver spoon, even his mom’s earrings (which somehow ended up under his bed).

Then there was the soft stuff. His hoodies, pillows, blankets—all gone.

And the food. Fruits he’d never seen before piled up in the corner of his room, untouched but somehow... perfectly fresh.

Mark was so confused.

At first, he thought you were just being weird. Because let’s be honest—you weren’t exactly normal. But then he caught you sitting in a pile of stolen goods, legs tucked beneath you, nesting.

That was when he finally asked:

"...What are you doing?"

You blinked up at him, tilting your head, hair cascading around you like a shimmering cloak.

"For baby," you said simply. Then, after a pause, you added: "Babies."

Mark froze.

"...What."

You pointed at your stomach with a serene smile. "Baby. Nest good for baby."

Mark’s heart stopped.

"WHAT???"

Mark. Freaks. Out.

You tilted your head, confused. "What?" Mark panicked. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN BABIES—PLURAL?!" You just shrugged. "Baby." You patted your stomach. "Yours." He felt his soul leave his body.

Mark didn't know how to handle this.

He immediately ran to his mom.

"Mom," he gasped, stumbling into the kitchen like he’d just seen a ghost. "She—she said she’s pregnant."

Debbie paused mid-dishwashing. "What?"

"She’s making a nest! She’s collecting stuff! She said babies!" Mark ran a hand through his hair. "Mom, what the fuck!"

Debbie dried her hands calmly. "Did you use protection?"

Mark gawked at her. "I didn’t think I needed to! She’s an alien!"

Debbie exhaled sharply. "Well, apparently, she’s an alien that can get pregnant."

Mark groaned, collapsing onto the couch. "Oh my God. I’m not ready to be a dad."

"Well," Debbie muttered, completely unbothered. "You should’ve thought about that before sleeping with her."

Mark let out a miserable groan.

Now that you were pregnant, your eating habits changed.

You ate. So. Much.

Especially meat.

Mark stared, horrified, as you tore into a raw steak, completely unbothered. "You know... we usually cook that."

You blinked at him, mouth full of blood. "...Why?"

Mark swallowed. "Because it's gross eating it raw?"

You just tilted your head. "But taste good."

Mark watched in silence as you continued devouring the steak.

You also developed a sweet tooth.

Cookies? Gone.

Ice cream? Destroyed.

Syrup? You drank it straight from the bottle.

He had to physically pry it out of your hands.

Mark learned that you were serious about the nest.

You dragged his hoodies into a corner of his room. You hoarded pillows, blankets, even his mattress.

Mark woke up on the floor.

"You kicked me out of my own bed!" he groaned.

You blinked sleepily. "Nest not for you. Nest for baby."

Mark sighed, rubbing his face.

"...Where am I supposed to sleep?"

You thought about it for a second, then patted your lap.

Mark stared. "...I am not sleeping on your lap."

You shrugged, curling up in the nest. "Then floor."

Mark let out a strangled noise.

One night, Mark found you hugging your knees, staring out the window.

He frowned. "Hey... what’s wrong?"

You stayed silent.

Mark sat beside you. "Come on. Talk to me."

You took a deep breath. "Miss... sisters."

Mark blinked. "Your sisters?"

You nodded. "We... always together. Always. Birth together. Hug under sky." Your voice grew soft. Lonely. "Now... alone."

Mark felt something tug at his chest.

You were always so strange, so terrifying, so otherworldly. It was easy to forget you could feel sadness.

Mark hesitated before wrapping an arm around you.

You looked up, surprised.

Mark forced a smile. "Well... you’re not alone anymore."

You blinked. Then, slowly, you buried your face in his chest.

"...Mark warm," you mumbled.

He chuckled, resting his chin on your head. "Yeah, yeah. I get that a lot."

"Mark," you whispered against his skin, nuzzling into his neck. "You scared?" Mark swallowed thickly. "...A little." You pulled back, blinking at him. "Why?" He exhaled. "Because you’re not human. And you’re... different." You tilted your head. "Different bad?" "...No. Just... different."

You considered that. Then, slowly, you reached out, placing his hand on your slightly rounded stomach. "Not different," you murmured. "Just... mine."

And somehow, despite everything, despite the insane, terrifying reality of his situation— Mark smiled. Because yeah. He was yours.

You were beautiful. Terrifying, yes, but his. You clung to him, kissed him randomly, slept on top of him. And God help anyone who looked at him the wrong way. One time, a girl at the store smiled at Mark. You hissed. Mark had to physically drag you away. "Can you NOT try to commit murder every time a girl breathes near me?" You pouted. "She want mate." Mark sighed. "No, she was just being polite." You narrowed your eyes. "I kill." "NO." Mark was exhausted. Not because of crime-fighting, not because of college, not even because of his dad suddenly being back in his life. No. Because of you. It started one night when Mark woke up to emptiness. You weren’t in the nest. Panic hit him immediately. He checked the kitchen. Not there. The bathroom? Nope. The ceiling? ...Also no. "Goddamn it," he muttered. Mark searched the whole house three times before he heard it—soft breathing. He turned to the darkest corner of his room. Two glowing eyes stared back at him. "Jesus—!" He nearly punched the wall. "What the hell are you doing there?!" You blinked slowly, like a cat caught doing something forbidden. "Hide." Mark exhaled, running a hand down his face. "From what?!" You shrugged. "Feel good." Mark’s eye twitched. "Get out of the shadows." "No." "Get out." "...No." Mark groaned. Debbie had seen some shit. She survived Omni-Man. She survived Viltrumites. But she was not surviving this. She walked into the kitchen one morning, and there you were—perched on the fridge like some kind of cryptid. "...What are you doing?" "Mark say no raw meat," you said blankly. "So I eat where he not see." Debbie sighed. "Please don’t tell me you’re eating it raw again." You tilted your head. "...I no tell." "...Oh my God." Nolan hated you.

He had been sitting at the table, drinking coffee, when Mark asked you something completely innocent. "So… what were you like before?" You perked up. Pregnancy made you talkative, and you loved talking to Mark. "Oh! Had harem. Many males. Many pretty. All do what I say." Mark choked on his drink.

Nolan raised an eyebrow. Debbie just stared. "Harem?..." You nodded proudly. "Yes. Male do all work. Listen to Queen. Bring food. Fight others. Make babies." Mark coughed. "Uh. What happened to them?" You tilted your head. "Eat them." Dead silence. Nolan put his cup down very slowly. Mark paled. "...WHAT?" You hummed. "Some live. But old way… Male weak, we eat. No waste." Mark looked horrified. "...You ate your husbands?" You shrugged. "Yes. But you safe." You patted his head. "No eat you. Like you too much." Nolan looked like he was having a stroke. Debbie got up and left the room. Mark, meanwhile, just buried his face in his hands. "Oh my God." One time, Mark caught you crying in the nest. Immediate panic. He rushed over, pulling you into his arms. "Hey, hey—what’s wrong?!" You sniffled. "Nest too small." Mark blinked. "...Baby isn’t even born yet." You hugged your belly. "Need big nest." "...How big?" You looked at him, eyes deadly serious. "Big as house." He wanted to scream. Mark learned way too much about you. One night, as you laid in the nest together, you played with his fingers and whispered— "I ruin species once." Mark groaned. "Oh God. Not again." "Yes. Make them better. Stronger. Then… too strong." "...You made a species that killed itself?" "Yes." You yawned. "Oops." Mark covered his face. "Mark?" "...Yeah?" "Would you let me change you?" "NO." "...Okay." Mark didn’t sleep that night. One day, Nolan took Mark aside. "Mark. Listen to me. You don’t understand what you’ve done." Mark sighed. "Dad, relax. She’s harmless." "She is a goddamn genetic nightmare!" Mark crossed his arms. "She’s cute." "SHE ATE HER OWN KIND." "She said she wouldn’t eat me!" "THAT IS NOT REASSURING." Mark rolled his eyes. "Look, she chose me. That means I’m safe, right?" Nolan looked pale. "...Mark. If she chose you, that means you are hers. Forever." Mark shrugged. "I don’t see the problem." Nolan grabbed his shoulders. "MARK. SHE’S HAVING YOUR CHILD." Mark smirked. "Yeah. And?" Nolan looked to the sky, as if begging the universe for patience. "...You are the dumbest child I have ever raised."

Once Mark walked into the house after training, exhausted, covered in bruises, and ready to pass out. Instead, he was met with an eerie silence. His stomach dropped. "Babe?" No response. He checked the kitchen. No you. The living room? Empty. The bathroom? He opened the door and— "RAAARGH!" "HOLY SHIT!" Mark fell back as you jumped out from the shadows, completely naked as always, landing on his chest. You grinned. "Surprise." Mark groaned. "You almost gave me a heart attack." You tilted your head. "I no have heart attack." "I’M NOT YOU." You hummed, then leaned down, licking his face. Mark sighed. "Okay. You really need to stop licking me." "No." Despite the absolute insanity, Mark was obsessed with you. You were weird. You were dangerous. You were terrifying. But you were his. And he wouldn’t trade you for anything. Even if you tried to eat his kids.

"You are... happy?" you asked once, tilting your head as you lay across his lap, your long hair pooling onto the floor. Mark blinked, swallowing thickly. "I—I mean, yeah? I think so? It’s just... a lot." You smiled softly, placing a hand over your stomach. Then, like it was the most casual thing in the world, you murmured, "I eat it if it bad." Mark choked. "WHAT?" You blinked. "If baby weak. Bad. I eat." His soul left his body. "YOU CAN’T JUST EAT THE BABY!" You frowned, confused. "Why not?" "BECAUSE—BECAUSE THAT’S NOT—" He buried his face in his hands, groaning. "Oh my god, I can’t believe I got you pregnant." You beamed. "I can."

One night Mark had come home late, exhausted. He expected to find you asleep in your ridiculous nest. Instead, he found you sitting on the balcony, staring at the stars. Quiet. Still. He sat beside you. "Couldn’t sleep?" You shook your head. "Stars nice." Mark hummed. "...Yeah. They are." You glanced at him. "You think babies like stars?" Mark hesitated. Then, slowly, he smiled. "...I think they’ll love them." You brightened, eyes shimmering in the moonlight. Mark’s heart skipped a beat. He was so screwed.

— MASTERLIST ☆

— NEXT ☆ Part 1. Part 2.

— © luv-lock. Don't copy, repost or translate any of my works here or any other websites ☆

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you hiding an injury from them !

pairings: ot13 x reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.2k (lowkey estimated bc word counter isn’t working)

cw: injuries (sprained wrist/ankle, concussions, etc.), blood mentioned but not descriptive (woozi) way too much backstory bc i'm a d1 yapper

a/n: for the record i've never sustained a major injury (thankfully!) besides when i dislocated my shoulder when i was 4 years old so this may not be accurate. SO sorry that this took so long i had a brain fart or smth 😔

scoups - you really didn't think he'd notice immediately, but he does. you accidentally rolled your ankle trying to catch the subway. it wasn't too bad; the doctor said you'd minorly sprained your ankle, but all it needed was a couple weeks in a splint. in some attempt to hide it, you put on some sweatpants and slippers and call it a day.

so deciding it wasn't that big of a deal (and lowkey a win since you got to skip work), you didn't think of telling seungcheol because one, you didn't feel like listening to him scold you for staying up too late the night before, and two, he'd just gotten off tour. he didn't need to spend the next couple of weeks babying you over an injury that didn't even require surgery.

but when he returns home from a day out and catches you instantly put down your leg from where you'd been elevating it on a footstool, he immediately grows suspicious of something. "why were you doing that just now?"

"eh? i think you're being paranoid- oh, um..." you try to play it off, but then he comes closer and inspects your body for a bit before pulling up your pant leg to reveal the splint surrounding your ankle despite your protests.

his eyes widen and he looks up at you from where he's kneeling. "you got hurt? when? why didn't you call me?" he asks rapidly. you sigh, listening to him scold you even more than what he would have if you'd told him earlier, finally promising him to never hide anything from him again.

jeonghan - basically, you slipped in the shower and gave yourself a concussion while jeonghan was at practice. out of pure embarrassment, you didn't tell jeonghan because let's be real, it sounded a little stupid and someone like him would never let you live it down.

and honestly, you thought you'd exceeded. jeonghan had come home and didn't mention anything to you, just complaining about how he hates all his choreography (he says this everytime he has to learn new choreo...). that was until you went to bed.

all is well, but then those massive headaches roll in one by one and now you're stuck with an unbearable migraine. trying not to disturb your boyfriend, you uncurl yourself from him and barely make your way to the kitchen.

the headache only gets worse as you fumble with the advil bottle while cursing your concussion aloud when suddenly a hand takes it and opens it. "here," you turn around, only to find jeonghan offering the bottle with a confused, sleepy look.

"and what were you muttering around? a concussion or something?" you gulp, taking the advil as you try to come up with an excuse. he takes your (literally three second) hesitation as an answer, "wait- you actually got a concussion?" avoiding the question, you attempt to usher him back to bed, but now he's somehow gained consciousness and doesn't back down. "y/n, what happened? and why didn't you tell me?" and when you finally tell him, he's... disappointed?

"baby, you really didn't tell me you got a concussion because you thought i'd make fun of you?" he sighs, shaking his head before putting his hands on your shoulder, "i'm your lover before a jokester or best friend, okay? i care about you more than anything. don't hide things like this from me."

joshua - in this situation, you would say "snitches get stitches" but the only one who actually got stitches was you.

you got a pretty bad arm wound while bike riding with your friend. it hurt and the only thing you really remembered was crying from the pain. anyways, joshua had just gotten off tour, and you'd feel bad for making him worry, so you made your friend promise to not mention it to him.

but the only warning you get when you return home from the hospital is a text from that same friend saying, "sorry y/n...." before you open the door and are greeted by a very worried joshua.

"y/n! i heard about your arm, are you okay?" you try to brush him off, but he doesn't let you. "hey, your friend also said you were going to try to hide it from me. why's that?"

"it's really not a big deal shua-"

"don't lie to me, she said you were crying, babe. why are you trying so hard to keep this from me?"

you don't know what to say and joshua just embraces you, "here, i'll take care of you okay?" and you let him, because it's joshua.

jun - ugh, he's so oblivious yet somehow annoyingly observant that he finds out without trying.

someone ran over your toe with a shopping cart during your grocery trip. it truly didn't hurt that much in the moment, but the hours after that? oh boy were they torturing.

it still didn't seem like enough to tell jun about, so you simply went about your day suffering in silence.

during dinner, however, he asks you through scoops of chinese steamed egg, "did you hurt your foot while shopping?"

taken aback by the accuracy of his question, you literally drop your spoon and he's just like, "what?? you just seem to be lighter on your feet today, that's all."

he takes the whole situation pretty lightly (oblivious i tell you) that he doesn't even believe you when you try to tell him the truth 😭 "okay, okay, you're just trying to make me seem smart now." so then you take off your sock at the dinner table and lift your bruised foot to show him and he looks at you like this: (°ロ°)

hoshi - unlike jun, he does NOT take it lightly. he's almost offended.

yes, you shouldn't be trying to walk around too much with a bad ankle, but you can't help it okay? sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do, like walk hoshi's dog, latte, while he works on his album.

he's been really busy, okay? you never told him about how you tripped around a week ago, so you'd just been living as if it never happened. honestly it's no surprise that you kind of automatically accepted his sister's request without thinking of your ankle (that was praying you'd stop putting pressure on it).

but then you make the grave mistake of posting your walk on instagram with just a sliver of the bandage wrapping up your ankle. he literally hearts the story, removes it, and replies with an angry face.

he calls you, "y/n! what are you doing walking around with an obviously injured leg? and why am i finding out through your instagram story?"

you're not sure what to say, but he talks for you, "i'm leaving practice right now so i can take care of both my babies, don't move. you'll make your ankle worse, babe."

"right, because you'd know-" and he hangs up on you,

wonwoo - silently observant...

you were surprised that you'd been able to go this long with a cast around your wrist, only using hoodies to conceal it, but turns out wonwoo's like those shop employees who wait for people to steal $1000 worth of stuff before dropping that lawsuit on them.

one day, you're both just sitting on the couch when he grabs ahold of your wrist. he literally waits for you to be distracted, doomscrolling on social media, to do it.

but then you feel him roll up your sleeve, and now you're doomed.

"what's this, y/n?" he asks firmly, holding your arm tight enough to where you can't move, but somehow gently as to prevent any discomfort (how cute of him).

"you really didn't think i would notice it? you wearing hoodies when it's 70 degrees, eating with your nondominant hand, taking forever to shower because you have to wash your hair with one arm, why didn't you just let me take care of you?"

you sort of shrink back in shame; wonwoo read you and you were stunned. he simply takes you into his arms, murmuring, "i'm not mad, i just want you to know that you don't have to struggle like that when i'm here. i'll notice either way."

woozi - ouch. you accidentally cut yourself while cleaning up the remnants of a glass cup you dropped. the cut was deep, but somehow still in a sleepy daze, you cleaned it to the best of your ability, slapped some gauze on it, and went back to bed.

whenever jihoon comes home, he follows his normal 2 am schedule, but then notices the blood-stained towel in the hamper. he rushes to your room, only to find you sound asleep.

still, he shakes you awake, "y/n, why's there a towel with blood all over it in the laundry room?" you kind of look at him, confused, before simply lifting your arm to reveal the amateur work you did you bandage it.

at first, he sighs in relief, but then you see his brows furrow. "when did this happen? seems kinda serious..." he inspects it closely as you mumble, "i dunno, couple hours ago? i dropped something."

"what? why didn't you call me? i could've come home earlier to take care of it." he says, feeling guilty about not being there.

"it's really nothing, you've been really busy anyway. this isn't something you should worry about-" but he shushs you. "i'm never too busy to help you, y/n. i don't want you thinking like that."

dk - like hoshi, he doesn't take it lightly. you took a heavy fall while rushing to work a couple days ago. it wasn't a big deal until your arm started to bruise pretty badly.

you knew seokmin would freak out at it, so you planned on wearing long sleeve shirts to cover it up, and it'd been working pretty well.

but unfortunately for you, this had to be the time where you forgot to bring a shirt with you to shower, accidentally bringing two pairs of pants instead.

you tried to dash in and out of your room as fast as possible, but seokmin was plopped on your bed, getting a clear view of your arm (you had a towel wrapped around you okay?).

his jaw drops, you grab a shirt, water is dripping everywhere, and you yell “i’ll explain later!” as you run back to the bathroom.

when you come back, his jaw is still in the same position. “seok, it’s really not that bad.” you assure him, but he barely pays attention, just reaching for your arm. “it looks bad though…” he mumbles, poking at the bruise like a little kid, “that didn’t hurt, right?”

ugh, he’s so cute.

mingyu - you somehow manage to slice your hand open while cooking dinner for whenever mingyu comes home.

do you tell him? absolutely not. you definitely do not need him locking you out of the kitchen after you try to cook one time.

you really don’t have time to go to the hospital (which you definitely should’ve done??) so you opt to put some pressure on it with a towel until it stops bleeding, and because you have terrible timing, mingyu enters the apartment.

at first he says “smells pretty good! what are you-“ he strides into the kitchen to see the food you were unable to plate at the dining table (that actually looks pretty good), your distressed face, and then your hand.

“at least i got here on time,” he says, taking your hand and looking at it closely. “don’t worry, i was like trained for this stuff.” he smiles, heading toward what you used to think was an overstuffed medical cabinet.

“you didn’t even call me. were you planning to take care of this yourself?” he asks, wrapping your hand with precision. “i’m here for a reason, you know? you just gotta let me help you, baby.”

the8 - you had a feeling minghao would notice immediately, but there was a very slim chance he’d miss it this time. he’d just got done filming for his survival show, and you knew he’d be tired when he got home.

you’re a pretty clumsy person, and you always felt bad for making a usually calm minghao worried. so, when you tripped and got a concussion the day before, you didn’t tell him.

it was going fine, painkillers acting as your savior, but then you ran out of them. groaning, you decide to wait for minghao to leave the house to go buy more, but he doesn’t?

it’s like his subconscious knew your plan, and eventually you just can’t take it anymore, calling your friend and asking her to drop some off.

then you go to take a nap on the couch as an attempt to sleep off the headache you have, unaware that your friend’s at the door.

minghao gently shakes you awake, bottle of advil in his hand and a concerned look on his face. “i knew something was up with you. you should’ve just told me, y/n.” he says, explaining how your friend gave him a weird face when he asked about the medication and then dropping how you got a concussion like it was obvious.

“we shouldn’t hide things like this, okay? it’s not good for you.”

seungkwan - let’s just say, you may not be cut out for volleyball.

you were just goofing off with your friends, playing volleyball, when you dislocated your shoulder. seungkwan was hosting a variety show, and you didn’t feel like bothering him, so you didn’t mention it, not even when he video called you during his lunch break.

it wasn’t that bad of an injury, the doctor popped it back into its socket and you were sent home with some medication.

a week passes with no problem, but then seungkwan offers to play some badminton (like the LAST sport you should be trying to play during recovery), and thinking it wouldn’t be too bad, you accept.

it’s only till you’re actually swinging the racket that you realize that your shoulder has definitely not healed, let alone healed enough to really be playing a sport. you suddenly pause, “wait- just give me a minute.” he runs over from his side of the court. “hey, what’s going on? you look like you’re in pain.”

trying to get out the fact it’s because you got a dislocated shoulder, you ramble “it’s fine, just a dislocatedshoulderigotaweekagowithouttellingyou 😄”

and he’s like “WHAT? are you crazy?? why are you trying to play on it?” and proceeds to grab that same arm and drag you out of the court. he definitely scolds you for the rest of the day…

vernon - normally he’s chill, but right now he’s lowkey tweaking out.

while he was visiting his sister for her birthday, you broke your leg. you didn’t tell vernon because you wanted him to have a good time with his sister (how nice of you 😊), but when he comes home, he doesn’t think of it as such.

you’re laying on the couch, watching a show, whenever he enters the apartment. there’s a blanket over you, so he doesn’t notice the leg immediately.

“finally, this jet lag has got me *yawn* out of it.” he says, lifting the blanket just enough so he can slide in next to you.

he still doesn’t notice until his leg touches your boot, yelping in surprise. “why are you wearing shoes on the couch?” and then making another surprised noise when you reveal its a medical boot.

“did this happen when i was gone? you should’ve told me…” he gently scolds you, mainly because you made him so surprised, and then just lays back with you on the couch like nothing happened.

dino - you really wanted to tell him, but he just looked so happy in singapore and you really didn’t feel like ruining his time there.

on the way to class, you fractured your wrist while trying to catch yourself. since then, you’ve been struggling trying to do basically anything: changing clothes, showering, cooking, the list goes on.

but you didn’t tell him, just choosing to get through it until he comes home.

“y/n~ i’m home!” he calls out, walking in with his luggage. you’re in the shower, arm sticking out as far as it can away from the water, trash bag wrapped around that arm, and ultimately, just in a bad position.

“um, in here! can you help me?” you holler. you feel bad for making him help you as soon as he got home, but you’re going through hell and back trying to shampoo your hair.

he walks into the bathroom, “you sure you want me in here?” and all he sees is a fogged up shower with a trash bagged arm sticking out of it. surprisingly, he immediately understands what happened.

“babe, you should’ve told me earlier.” he says, helping you wash your hair properly. “i don’t like to think that you’ve been struggling like this without me there.” he frowns, kissing you on the forehead.

[anotherghosthere]

There are

A couple. But if I had to choose five...

Top gear for the snes, definitely has to be here. I first played it as a kid, not teen, but I still play it as an adult. It's one of the first games I remember playing, and it's music is constantly playing in my head, all the time. It made me realize racing games could be pretty fun once I wasn't so bad at it.

Minecraft. Anyone who played minecraft around it's earlier years (or even nowadays, I don't know how it is these days, actually.) doesn't really need an explanation for why it's here. I had a BLOG. Like an actual blog, where I would post about mods and some texture packs I made. They were bad, and some posts I didn't even test the mods properly before writing about them (shame on past me), but I was passionate enough about it to have the blog in the first place, so... Yeah.

A bit of a weird one: Danganronpa. I'm not super into the game itself, nowadays, but the fandom is how I found some of my longest time friends.

...wow I'm having a tough time choosing the last two, there are WAY too many games I wanna ramble about

I think The World Ends With You has to take a spot. I don't have a pin collection for no reason. Plus the other day I was listening to the OST on my way to work and started crying. Not just any game can do that.

...And last but not least, if we're talking about youth/teens, I have to mention the game that made me realize rhythm games could be a bit more than, well, guitar hero or ddr. It is Elite Beat Agents for the nintendo DS, the english language counterpart to uhhh (Ill try to spell it right because I can't be bothered to google) "Moero nekketsu Rhythm Damashii! Osu! Takakae! Ouendan!" Which is basically the predecessor from where they took the basic gameplay for... "Osu!", which is what a lot of people think of when you say "rhythm game". Was it a good game? Well, I enjoyed it, and it left me wanting rhythm games that did different things from the ones I already knew.

...There are a couple other games I really debated choosing over these, but oh well I guess these are the five and I officially hate all other video games ever made.

[mariasont]

Strictly Medical Reasons - S.R

it started as concern. a few check-ins, a handful of visits, just to make sure you were healing. but somewhere along the way, the line between duty and something deeper blurred, and spencer wasn't sure he wanted to redraw it.

pairings: spencer reid x reader warnings: gn!reader, flirting, mention of some undescribed rescue (imagining it wasn't too much trauma because there is too much flirting going on lol), reader has stitches, pre-relationship pining, definitely blurring some unhealthy attachments, mild codependency?, injury/wound care, but this is all fluffity fluff wc: 1.9k request: here

It was supposed to be procedural.

Another life salvaged, another story neatly archived. He had done this before, so many times, in so many places, that the specifics bled together, watercolors smudged by the passage of time. Their faces softened into abstraction, names reduced to reference, tucked away for when necessity dictated. That was the nature of it — the job. He helps, he leaves. They move on, and so does he.

Except this time, he hadn’t.

It didn’t hit him in the moment. Not when the case wrapped up, not when he boarded the jet, not even when he returned to his apartment. It wasn’t until much later — until he was supposed to be focused on a book he had read three times before, until he was staring blankly at his own notes without processing a single word — that he realized he hadn’t moved on. 

He could still remember the exact shade of your shirt, the way the material had wrinkled when you crossed your arms, the way you had cracked a joke — not forced, not out of shock, but because humor was your instinct, the same way facts were his.

The logical part of him knew this was excessive. Maybe even bordering on inappropriate. Checking in once? Reasonable. Twice? Understandable. But five times? Six? He wasn’t even sure anymore. Somewhere between the habitual morning texts and the I was just in the area visits that were only technically lies, he had lost count.

Somewhere along the way, it had stopped being just about your well-being and started becoming something else entirely, something he didn’t want to analyze too closely. Because even if he did, the compulsion remained the same — his fingers hovering over his phone, rereading messages for subtext that probably wasn’t there, scanning your voice for micro-inflections, subtle hesitations, anything.

It was crazy. For someone who spent his life dissecting human behavior down to its most fundamental parts, Spencer found himself struggling with the most basic equation of all: what was it about you that had rewired every rational impulse he had?

“Dr. Reid?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think I can take these stitches out myself?”

Spencer’s response time dragged as he attempted to process whether or not you were joking. There was no sound reason for you to even consider that — removing sutures too early could lead to dehiscence, increased risk of infection, and possible hypertrophic scarring. He ran through a dozen potential responses, none of which adequately conveyed the "are you out of your mind" sentiment currently flooding his system.

“What?”

“My stitches. They itch like crazy,” you complain. There’s a rustling sound, a shuffle of movement, then a sharp inhale, like you’ve pressed too hard. He stiffens. “I know they said to wait, but it’s been — what? A week? That’s long enough, right?”

Spencer pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, it’s not long enough. And unless you’ve recently acquired a medical degree I don’t know about, you should absolutely not remove them yourself.”

A small, defeated sigh. He didn’t have to be there to know what you were doing, absently picking the edges of the injury, mind already debating whether to listen to him or your own impatience. He knew exactly how your brain worked. Possibly too well. 

“Okay, okay, doctor.” Your voice now had a teasing lilt, dissolving his irritation like sugar in tea. “I’ll keep them in. For now.”

He should have told you to go to urgent care. It was exactly the kind of advice he would give to anyone else. He even opened his mouth to say it.

But urgent care meant you’d be sitting in a cold, sterile room, and Spencer already had all the proof he needed that you did not handle pain well, so he could only imagine the absolute scene you would cause the second the doctor so much as touched you.

You had made it through an entire armed standoff without a scratch. You had been fine. Perfectly fine. And then, the second you were safe, you tripped over your own feet on the gravel, went down hard, and immediately announced, “I think I’m dying.”

(You weren’t. It was a two-stitch injury. He knew that. You knew that. But that hadn’t stopped you from squeezing his arm like you were bracing for war.)

So yeah, he wasn’t about to subject an innocent nurse to that level of unnecessary suffering.

“...I can come by and take a look.”

He hadn’t told anyone he was leaving and hadn’t bothered with excuses of half-hearted justifications. You had agreed without hesitation, voice light, pleased, and before he could even process what that meant — what it meant that you wanted him there — the call had ended and his coat was already on, his body moving as if his mind had no say in the matter at all.

Which was how he ended up here.

At your door, eyes drawn, as always, to the welcome mat. Stay Awhile. Too sentimental. A little too on-the-nose. The kind of thing he would generally dismiss with a passing thought, another surface-level attempt at warmth, mass-produced and impersonal. Except lately, it was starting to feel like a directive. 

Before he even knocked, the door swung open. He froze, fingers still half-curled into a fist, blinking as if he had somehow miscalculated the timing of reality itself.

“Hi.” You stepped back without hesitation, the invitation clear.  “Come in.”

Spencer hesitated for a fraction of a second, thrown by the fluidity of it all.

“Sorry, it’s kind of a mess,” you added, pushing the door behind him. “I had to work online today, and, uh, turns out, when you don’t have to leave the house, basic organization becomes more of a suggestion than a rule.”

His eyes skimmed the room, cataloging the so-called mess. A blanket, half-draped over the couch, slumped like a figure in mid-collapse. The pillows sat uneven, as if they had been rearranged in restless indecision. A coffee mug, streaked with the last remnants of caffeine, stood beside an open laptop. A pair of socks had been cast aside in the corner.

Mess, you had called it. He fought the urge to tell you that, statistically, people who lived in slightly cluttered spaces tended to be more creative. Somehow, he figured you already knew that.

His gaze tracked downward, instinct eclipsing intention.

The stitches were still in place, neatly spaced, and there were no signs of infection. So far, so good. But the skin surrounding them was angry, irritation blooming in uneven splotches where your fingers had worried the flesh.

“You’ve been scratching them.”

Your eyes flickered toward your arm, then back at him, guilt tucked behind a small, lopsided smile. “Not badly.”

Spencer sighed as he set his bag down with a thump. “Sit on the counter.”

“What?”

“The lighting’s better,” he muttered, already making his way toward the kitchen. “And I’d rather not crouch on your floor to assess how much damage you’ve done.”

You hopped up without argument, legs swinging as you grinned at him. “Do I get a lollipop after this check-up?”

Spencer stepped between your legs, hands settling lightly on your knee for balance. He hadn’t really thought this through — how close he’d have to be, how your leg would brush his hip, how he would be able to smell faint traces of your shampoo. 

He exhaled a dry laugh. “I don’t know. Do you think you deserve a reward for actively making my life harder?”

“Sounds like a you problem, Dr. Reid. If you weren’t so obsessed with checking up on me, you wouldn’t even know I was doing anything questionable.”

Spencer sighed, tugging on his gloves, the latex snapping against his wrist like punctuation.

“You make an excellent point.” He pulled out the disinfectant next, carefully flipping the cap open. “An annoying one, but an excellent point nonetheless.”

Because if he didn’t check up on you, he wouldn’t even know about the irritated stitches. He also wouldn’t know that you never make it through a full cup of coffee before it gets cold, or that you always read the last page of a book first, just in case, or that you leave the bathroom light on when you get up in the middle of the night because you hate walking through the dark.

He wouldn’t know you, not in all these strange, fascinating, tangled ways. And for some reason, that thought startled him more than it should.

When you started, Spencer barely had the cotton pad against your skin, “So I was reading this article about how — ow!” You flinched, shooting him a glare. “That stings!”

Spencer pressed his lips together, barely suppressing a laugh. “I did bring a numbing agent, but I figured you’d want to tough it out. For, you know, bragging rights.”

You huffed, lips turning into a tiny, reluctant pout. “Yeah, okay, I’m fine.”

Spencer’s grip on the cotton pad faltered just slightly before he recovered. He shouldn’t find that cute. He shouldn’t. But he absolutely did.

He continued cleaning, carefully blotting at the wound. Another wince. Another barely-contained reaction.

“Tell me about the article.”

“So, I read this study about how humans actually need physical touch to regulate their nervous systems.”

Spencer hummed in acknowledgement. “I’ve read about that. Social bonding releases oxytocin.”

“Right!” you winced, inhaling sharply through your teeth before continuing. “And it’s not just romantic, like, even casual touch can lower stress levels. They did a study with people holding hands and — ow — measuring their cortisol levels. Turns out, human contact makes everything more tolerable.”

Spencer’s brain decided right then to process every point of contact between you. 

Statistically, you weren’t wrong. Scientifically, it was a well-documented phenomenon.

“Interesting,” he said, clearing his throat. “Sounds useful.”

He could cite three separate studies off the top of his head, break down the neurochemical pathways, and explain in excruciating detail why humans physically needed each other. But he liked the way you described it better.

“You saying you wanna hold my hand, Spencer?”

The antiseptic pad definitely didn’t need as much pressure as he just applied. “You’re very chatty for someone in pain.”

“You act all put out, but you keep showing up. What does that say, Dr. Reid?”

“That I’m too intelligent to believe in lost causes, but not intelligent enough to avoid them” Spencer rolled his eyes as he pulled off his glove. He patted your thigh lightly before stepping back. “Alright, all done. Try to behave so I don’t have to do this again.”

You clutched your chest theatrically. “Are you saying you don’t enjoy our little quality time sessions? That hurts, Spencer.”

He busied himself with picking up his bag. “I’m not dignifying that with a response.”

You hopped down from the counter, and Spencer instinctively reached out — like he thought you might be unsteady, like it was his job to ensure you didn't wobble. His hand brushed your arm for a half a second before he caught himself and pulled away.

“Text me if anything looks worse.”

“What, so you can rush over again?”

His ears tinged slightly pink. “Just… let me know if you need anything.

You softened, nodding. “I will.”

As he stepped outside, Spencer pulled his phone from his pocket, half-expecting — half hoping — to see a message from you before he even made it to his car. He shook his head at the thought, at himself. This was becoming a problem. A habit. An inevitability.

And despite knowing this, here he was, already running through excuses in his head for why it would be perfectly reasonable to check in again tomorrow. Strictly for medical reasons, of course.

💌 masterlist taglist has been disbanned! if you want to get updates about my writings follow and turn notifications on for my account strictly for reblogging my works! @mariasreblogs

[invoncible]

could you post more of popstar!girly!reader? honestly really love the concept, would love to see that fic you mentioned you have in your drafts 👀

popstar! girly! reader sneaking MARK GRAYSON into her music video ✧˚.

— hiii anon ! im so glad a lot of people love the concept because i've been having brainrot about it for so long. also !! that fic is at 11k words so far 💀 idk if you guys wanna read all that LMAO here's another scenario for the time being <3

i'd like to think when you start dating, mark understands the need to keep public and private life separate. he gets it better than anybody, which is what makes your unconventional relationship work out as well as it does.

that's not to say he doesn't get a little selfish sometimes.

when he's scrolling on tiktok or the reddit page dedicated to you and sees all these people thirsting over you... he feels some kind of way.

people calling themselves your wife, husband, partner, whatever—mark was happy for your success but there was a part of him that wanted to scream from the rooftops that he was yours, not them.

so when you proposed that he feature in your music video, he was overjoyed.

"i was thinking..." you hummed, manicured nails tapping away at your phone screen as you texted your manager. "did you wanna be in my new video? we want to include a boyfriend part and well... you're the only one qualified for that."

mark sat up sharply with an immediate, "yes." he accepted it solemnly, like he was accepting a world-changing quest.

you brightened, glossy lips spreading into a big smile. "really? all you'd have to do is flex and pose and be hot."

he grinned and leaned over to kiss your cheek, pulling you into his arms. "so a regular day, then?"

your crew loved mark. they loved how dorky he was, carrying comics to pass the time while you got ready in your outfits and makeup.

little did he know he had an appointment with hair and makeup himself.

"you can pull out if you want to, you know." you said as you fixed your hair in the huge led-light mirror.

mark was fidgeting beside you, turning left and right and assessing his reflection with a critical eye.

"and have you run around with someone else?" he frowned, a slight pout tugging on his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. "how can you even look in this thing without getting blinded?"

you giggled and dimmed the mirror lights to something he could handle.

"it was either you or no one. i just want to make sure you're comfortable." you said slowly, patiently, walking up beside him and tugging his restless hands away from his face. "this is kind of like a soft launch, you know?"

it'd be a hard launch if he had anything to say about it.

at first, he was a little stiff. it wasn't everyday he had to stand shirtless on a set with cameras aimed right at him.

when you started dancing with him, he acted like he hadn't seen you naked before. hands balled into fists at his sides, a tight lipped smile, the sweat pouring down his forehead...

the filming process might have taken a few more days than intended, but it was worth allowing mark to grow comfortable with the set and the crew. he put his all into his screen time.

fast forward to the release day, the internet was buzzing. you had guys in your music videos before, but they always met horrible ends.

so when you were spinning in some random guy's arms—not even a known model or celebrity—they were thoroughly confused.

it looked like a home video more than anything else. they could tell you two had insane chemistry.

the edits of you two together came first; then, the edits of the mysterious backup guy exploded on the internet. you were eating good for once, having a wealth of edits of your boyfriend at your disposal.

he found you giggling and kicking your feet. "what's got you in such a good mood?"

you just bit your lip, barely containing your smile as you held up your phone. an edit, albeit of low quality, of him smiling down at you in the low light of the scene, shots of his muscular back and arms and oh, you just had to save it and the 100s of others just like it.

he felt his face heat up as he watched it, looking away bashfully. "did... people like it?"

"they loved it." you hummed, pulling him down to bed and kissing his cheek. "and so did i."

he hummed, the sliver of praise making his chest puff up proudly.

"look, they've dubbed you 'boyfriend.'" you giggled, scrolling through fan comments. who is this man?? / that backup boyfriend guy kinda fine tho?? / look at how boyfriend looks at her awww! / boyfriend can't take us all at once. / boyfriend can't handle all that. / can boyfriend fight?

he smirked to himself as he absorbed the playful outrage of your fanbase. they could complain all they wanted, but he can handle all that and yes, he can fight.

© invoncible

[monzterpup]

SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING

NICE! . . . E.W

summary; baking lessons with ellie get messy!

pairing; baker!ellie x fem!reader

cw; very slight usage of y/n! (i'm sorry). food play. dom!ellie. top!ellie. oral!r (receiving). fingering!r (receiving). mdni.

w/c; 1.4k

a/n; hi cuties! this is kinda uhh horrible! i made this in literally one day bc i wanted to post something for u guys so bad. writers block has been a bitch lately! sorry this isn't dark content and kind of boring :( i promise some is coming soon! this is also a little short so sorry about that too. lowkey expecting this to flop buttt i hope u enjoy it anyways lovelies <3 (not proofread, i apologize if there are any mistakes. eventually, i will go back and edit it but rn i can’t be bothered lol.)

you didn't have a clue about baking. and, this was a real disadvantage to you since one of your friends was having a small get together where all of you were going to bake cupcakes, brownies, cookies, whatever sweets you could think of.

your friends did these every month and you were tired of missing out; miserably tapping through each one of their instagram stories while you sat at home in bed, rotting.

so, you did what any other reasonable person would've done, and you scheduled yourself a baking lesson. just a one on one with you and... and ellie.

ellie was a baker that you found through instagram, who just so happened to live merely 15 minutes away from you.

y/n_l/n: hey! just saw one of your vids, you do lessons right? i was wondering, if we live somewhat close, you could give me one? my friends are having a small bake day this saturday, so it would have to be before then. no pressure, thank you!

after a while of scrolling through your page and, well, maybe getting a little turned on by some of your very-obvious, attention seeking bikini posts-- at least, to her-- she decided that she was going to give you a lesson for free.

ellie.w.bakes: sorry for getting back to you so late. i would love to! thursday, 12:30 sound alright to you? here's my address if you're still interested. [1 attachment: ellie.w.bakes location]

y/n_l/n: yup! i'll be there. also, looks like we only live about 15 minutes away from each other. haha, that worked out. thank you so much!

and you were there; there sitting in your car, 15 minutes early, parked in front of ellie's house, trying to calm yourself down before the lesson. god, why was this making you so nervous all of a sudden? maybe it was the thought of her in an apron, with her hair pulled back, hands kneading the soft, floury dough-- okay, this was getting out of hand.

as you— finally— made your way up to ellie's front door, the spring air delved around your not-so-calm body, but the delicate breeze did help your sweating a little bit.

you knocked on the door, which was painted a nice, light cream color, complimenting the rest of her home.

when ellie opened the door, you froze. she looked exactly how you pictured her. in an apron, hair pulled back... just hot.

you don't know why you froze. it was like you weren't expecting her to actually answer or something. even though you booked this class three days ahead of time.

"y'alright there, angel face? looks like y've seen a ghost. come on in, i promise i don't bite." ellie's words were laced with a crooked grin and a smug tone. they snapped you out of your embarrassingly obvious staring and back into reality.

"right, yes. thank you."

as you made your way through ellie's home, you took note of the the strong vanilla scent, probably coming from the kitchen, which attacked your nostrils immediately. not in a bad way, it wasn't a bad smell. it was just a lot.

ellie's eyes drank your form in as you walked in front of her. one thing she noticed, you definitely didn't edit those instagram posts she was stalking. every single part of your body, head to toe, looked like it was sculpted by the gods themselves.

once the two of you made it to the kitchen, ellie sweetly took your purse and coat, hanging them up on a nearby shelf. what a gentlewoman.

your smile was almost as sweet as the cupcakes you were about to make, and ellie couldn't get enough of it. every time you flashed your pearly whites at her, she swore she almost fainted.

and every time ellie's skilled, slim fiingers sunk into the buttery dough to knead it deftly had you biting your lip. this lesson wasn't going well at all. how were you supposed to learn a thing when you were so pathetically distracted by her hands?

maybe it was just you. maybe you were the perverted one for thinking all of this. no, no. she was definitely trying to shove it in your face.

after you finished the lesson and grabbed your purse, you walked over to ellie to thank her and ask how much it was going to cost.

"so, how much will this be? i could venmo, or i have cash--"

ellie cut you off, "don't you worry ‘bout that, sweetie pie. beginner lessons are always free." psh, no they're not.

you gave her a confused tilt of your head. surely that wasn't true. "a-are you sure? it's really no problem, i could just pay you and get it over with."

"i'm serious. plus, i was thinking you could repay me in a different way. i was a pretty swell teacher, wasn't i?"

and this was exactly how you ended up naked, panties down to your ankles, heels kicked off to somewhere else in the kitchen, and whipped cream covering both of your nipples.

ellie’s hungry mouth latched onto one of your cream covered nipples and slurped up every drop of whipped cream like her life depended on it.

your manicured nails dug into the back of her head, forcing her mouth down onto your boob as she sucked and licked all over it.

“ellie, please,” your needy bitching and whining finally reached ellie’s lust filled ears.

“mm?” she hummed in curiosity while lifting her head up. “what is it, doll?”

you huffed in frustration. “y-your fingers. please. fingers, mouth… anything.”

“good girl, telling me what she wants.” ellie reached over on the counter to grab some strawberries that you had just used to bake, then placed them in a neat line leading down to your dripping pussy, which was currently clenching around nothing. cute.

the final cold strawberry was placed on your cunt and you let out a little gasp. it had been ages since someone treated you this good, with so much patience and delicacy.

ellie made intense eye contact with you as she ate her way down to your pussy, her green eyes glaring up into yours with so much hunger, she almost didn’t look like a human, just a starved beast.

when ellie’s tongue reached the final strawberry that was so perfectly placed on top of your aching clit, she took a tiny bite out of it first, then pressed it down with her teeth, the pressure making your clit twitch and throb even more than it already was.

“prettiest pussy i ever seen in m’life. looks so delicious,” and ellie took that seriously. because when she started eating you out, it was like your brain short circuited. she wasn’t afraid to get messy at all. she really treated your cunt like it was the best meal she had ever tasted in her life.

you arched your back up and lifted your hips off of the counter only to buck them towards ellie’s mouth, needing more. “f-fuck, ellie!” strangled moans strung from your throat and echoed throughout the whole kitchen.

ellie kept one thumb rubbing at your clit while she detached her juice covered mouth from your pussy to instead shove two fingers inside of your sopping hole.

“sucking me in so, so good, baby. you got it…” she praised and whispered sweetly as if she didn’t just force two long fingers into your guts.

“ah!” you hissed sharply. the bone and skin of ellie’s fingers stuffed you up just the right amount, not too much, not too little. and she was right, your pussy swallowed up her fingers up fast.

ellie started erratically pumping her digits in and out of your tight, little hole, leaving you rolling your eyes into the back of your head and trying to hump her hand.

“shit, shit, shit! els, g-g’nna cum!”

she gently grabbed your spazzing hips and relaxed them a little. “yeah, that’s good, that’s good. let me see that sweet pussy cum. give it to me, baby.”

and you did. your cum came gushing out of your pussy in hot floods, completely coating and drenching ellie’s wrist in your liquid.

“shit, there you go. look at that.” ellie slowed her fingers down, letting you ride out your orgasm and making sure to milk you dry before finally pulling out.

ellie brought her fingers up to her (already) dripping mouth and licked her fingers clean of your sweet, sweet cum, followed up by a:

“tastes just like vanilla frosting. can y’give me another one before you gotta go, babe?”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Can't Have One Without the Other 1

Warnings: non/dubcon, marital troubles, body insecurity, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Summary: your marriage is on the rocks.

Note: I asked about husbands and all your hoes said Bucky (with a few Sy's in the middle). I wasn't intending on a whole series but I thnk it would be fun to have husband!Bucky turn a bit desperate.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

Living alone is tough. You've always found that it's best to keep a routine. Not too strict, you have to make room for spontaneity. You can't let the days turn grey. Take them one at a time but don't count them.

You haven't been to the cafe in a while. It's been longer since you came alone. Still, the house was too constricting, your home office like a cell, You can get some work done over a cappuccino, maybe even get a bit of pep. 

Lately, you've been exhausted and you shouldn't be. You're in bed so early that you're usually knocked out around eight or nine. You fall asleep in the glow of the television, watching some ridiculous syndicated drama. It's just enough to keep your frustration from fermenting.

Routine. Wake up, ready, eat, work, forget to stop for lunch, only walk away from the screen when your eyes are dry and you can't stop yawning, give up on the healthy home meal and order in. Sleep alone with your rings on the nightstand.

You taste the cappuccino and sigh. It's sweet but the delight it brings is bitter. That's the happiest you've been in weeks and it's because of a damn espresso.

You pick up your pen and go back to shading. There's nothing there. It used to be that your work made you smile. Art used to be your haven. Now it's the only thing keeping you from thinking too much.

"Oh, what are we working on?" The stranger asks as he nears your table. You retract your pen and reluctantly look up. "An artist in the wild."

Ugh. You should be flattered. It's obvious the man in his cycling gear is flirting. Or trying to.

"Just work. Need it done by three," you explain curtly, hoping he takes the hint.

"Oh, wow, you get paid for that?"

You hesitate, "um, sure."

"I don't mean--" He cringes, "anything by it. It's good. I just... most people would love to be paid for their passion."

Passion? What even is that? You look down at the panel and shrug. The series needs to be killed. It was well past sense long ago. Now the writer is only writing for the paycheck and you're not doing much different.

"I know you already have a drink but maybe I could treat you to something from the bakery. I love their scones," he suggests.

You have to swallow a scoff. The guy's nice. He's not doing anything wrong. It would be flattering if it was another time, another context. If he wasn't offering to add another layer to padding around your middle. The rolls you can't even call love handles because they only make you hate yourself.

"That's sweet but--"

"But she's married," a deeper voice undercuts.

You flinch. You glance up as Bucky approaches. He could probably hear the awkward interaction before he even entered. You're not concerned about that, but you are unnerved to see him there. To see your husband for the first time in a month without warning.

"Oh, uh," the guy rubs his neck and backs up, eyeing Bucky's metal arm. "Sorry, I--" The man chokes on his tongue and quickly flees, forgetting the bakery treats as he flits through the door. He fumbles outside to unlock his bike and you watch him with a frown.

"He was being friendly--"

Bucky drops into the seat across from you, "to my wife."

"I was about to tell him," you set the pen against the tablet so the magnet snags.

"Oh, about to show off your rings?" He nods to your hand. Naked. You left the bands by the bed.

"I forgot. Late night," you shrug. "You didn't tell me you were on your way back."

"I wanted to surprise you," he leans forward and puts his elbows on the table, clasping his hands together. "Looks like I got the surprise. You're not home. You're here, flirting with bike jockeys."

"I wasn't doing that," you shake your head. 

The accusation is scalding. Does he not remember the girl who didn't realise he was flirting for a whole year? Not like he was ever very good at communicating.

"How was the mission?" You ask evenly. You hold back the resent, tamp down on the promises he made that he wouldn't be away that long again. It's not use hiding, he can hear your pulse, but you still do.

He sighs and reaches for your cappuccino. He takes a sip. His thoughts weave between his brows as he tastes it and gulps tightly. Another thorn in your side. He could eat the whole damn display's worth of scones and muffins and not gain an ounce. That small coffee will cling to you.

"Long. Bullshit," he answers. "Good to be back."

You nod. You can't speak. If you open your mouth, it will all tumble out. He won't apologise so why are you going to make it an issue?

"Well, I'm almost done here," you fold over the cover of your tablet. "If you wanna finish that," you point to the cup.

His cheek ticks. He squints. He leans in further and slides the cup back to you.

"'Welcome back, honey. So happy to see you,'" he snarls derisively, "'I love you, husband.'"

The last consonant is sharp. You wince. You shrink in your chair as you keep your hands on the tablet.

"You surprised me, Bucky. Really." You sniff, "I missed you."

He stares at you. That same look that convinced a young girl he was annoyed by her. That assured you he didn't care about those stupid lines you made on paper, the drawings of Victorian figures and fantastical maidens. The one that melted away drop by drop. The ice is back in his eyes. Or maybe this time, it's in yours.

"Miss you too, babe," he pushes himself back in the chair.

You grab your bag and slide the tablet inside. You rest it in your lap and grab the cup. You drain it as the flavour turns sour in your mouth. Bucky huffs and stands before you can.

"Come on," he says, "let's go find those rings."

You stand and hook the strap of the bag over your head. You send him a look, "really, I forgot."

"Seems like," he grabs your hand. "Forgot a lot."

He drags you to the door. You put your head down as you let him. The insinuation in his words strangles you. Is he really that obtuse or is this projection? You're not the one who forgot this marriage.

[hawthornsword]

I thought I was going to have this exact situation in my intro to creative writing course as well. Especially because almost 100% of my university professors tended to be that exact type of egotistal asshole who refuse to have any new ideas or uodate their imformation, or ever allow themselves to be questioned, as if tenure is some sort of godhood.

But happily I got semi lucky in this case. Because our prof didn't allow us to write sci-fi/fantasy either, and I was ready to be deeply offended by that, assuming that he was like the prof mentioned above, but then he was like. It's only because its an intro class, 3 hours a week to give an overview. You are writing tiny little short stories. You Do Not Have Time to do all the world building required in a sci-fi/fantasy story like Lord of the Rings when we are here to focus on things like how story structure works and why your stories being character driven is important . You will inevitably get bogged down in the details and neglect the important part of the story and miss the point and not finish your class assignments.

And I was like, okay fair enough, I guess can understant that. ...But I don't know if I can do that because I've literally never tried to write anything that isn't sci-fi/fantasy. I don't know how. It's boring.

But then of course we (the few of us in class who weren't boring at least) took that as a challenge. One guy wrote a story about sentient toothbrushes, but it wasn't fantasy, it was a metaphor. He did the same thing again, writing a story of two normal people having a conversation about unicorns. The story wasn't about unicorns though. Just a conversation about them, so that doesn't count. I wrote a story about a lady assassin who probably had super powers, or maybe some kind of soulmate bond with the guy she was after, but left it ambiguous by cutting it off before anything was properly explained, so then I had just written an action/mystery.

And the prof absolutely let us get away with it, and helped us make those stories better without telling us to not write something fantastical, because I think we all knew that at least some of us already understood how fantasy works and what it's for, and his goals weren't to put it down or prevent us writing it in general, but just to accomplish the specific goals of the class. It ended up being a decent class, although I had feared the worst at first.

... Though I'll be honest I probably learned more about writing, at least the way I like to write, from unicorn guy than the actual professor.

my creative writing prof also HATES fantasy. as in if she asks for an example of symbolism in a book, and you give something from a fantasy novel, she’ll ask for an example from a “non-commercial book” instead.

I dunno man, people can have preferences, but the second you discount the artistic merit of sci fi and fantasy I stop taking your opinion seriously. and there’s such a big culture in Canada of only valuing literary fiction, to the point where one of our biggest authors, Margaret Atwood, refused for a while to classify her books as sci fi or fantasy. she said they were “speculative fiction”, which is entirely separate and very highbrow (sarcasm).

and I could go on about how Octavia Butler and Ursula Le Guin wrote books every bit as intellectual (and honestly, even more so) than their literary counterparts, but I am also an enjoyer of schlock!! I think there’s artistic merit in animorphs, and in isekais where a japanese schoolgirl reincarnates into a magical spider who has to level up like it’s a video game! it’s like with everything, you can’t draw a clean line that separates ‘art’ from ‘non-art’ or even ‘lesser art’, and pretending you can do so just makes you look ignorant and goofy. in my opinion.

[xmunsonlovex]

Somewhere I Belong pt. 2

Summary: After your heated kiss at The Hideout, you're aching, and eager to continue your date with Eddie. You hope he wants the same.

pt.1

Word Count: 6800+

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Shy Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI. smut. making out, grinding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, brief hand job, some dirty talk, role-playing (short lived, because neither reader or Eddie can't hold it together.) Eddie is anxious of reader seeing his scars, reader second guesses herself a lot and opens up to Eddie, fluff.

a/n: here's pt. 2! I am shocked and so appreciative of how well received pt.1 was! Thank you to all who read it and commented/reblogged. I didn't feel 100% with how this part was coming along, but after reading it over hundreds of times...I think I am happy with it. I am planning on a part 3, which will most likely be the final chapter. As always, please let me know what you think <3

Dividers by: saradika-graphics

You’re pacing your living room, hands clammy as you run them over yourself, trying to calm the anxiety you’re feeling. Eddie said he’d be over in about 30 minutes, mentioning that he had to drop off the guys first since they rode with him to the bar, and then he wanted to take a quick shower, not wanting for you to smell the sweat and smoke that usually stuck to his skin after his performances at The Hideout. On the drive home, you had replayed the kiss from earlier in your mind at least a thousand times, smiling to yourself at the prospect of continuing it at your place. You made sure to tidy up, not wanting to take the next step of this date in a messy house. Would he even care how your house looked? Probably not. You weren’t sure where this would lead to, but you were pretty hopeful. You could see yourself dating Eddie, and wondered if he felt the same. You had a feeling he did. 

“I can do this..” You mumble, looking out your window to see if Eddie was home yet. He wasn't, his van was not there and the lights inside of what you assumed was his bedroom, are off. 

You thought about changing into something a little bit more provocative, though you didn't really have anything like that in your possession currently. Well, you did have a satin camisole with a lace trim at the bottom and matching shorts, that quite literally left your ass cheeks hanging out. It was gifted to you by a friend before you made your move to Hawkins. She said it would help in getting you lucky. At the time, you laughed at the ridiculousness of it, but now, it was looking like a real possibility. You’ll have to call her up and thank her. Hmm. If you wore it, maybe you could opt out of wearing any undergarments. That'd fry Eddie's brain, you're sure. You're so deep in thought that you don't hear Eddie's van drive up. He’s quiet this time, his music is off and he purposely shuts his door softly, going up the steps, into his trailer. He didn't want you to know he was there. Yet. 

Eddie turns the shower on, making it a bit nippier than usual to calm the heat that radiates from his body. He feels like a damn teenager again, dealing with raging hormones as you consume his thoughts at every hour of the day. He's had a throbbing erection ever since your heated kiss, which was so rudely interrupted by Gareth. He tilts his head back as his hand glides over his cock, washing away the salty sweat that clung to his skin after his performance, and lets out a soft moan, shuddering at the firm grip. A relief he’s sure you'd be amazing at giving him. He bets your delicate hands would feel great on him, stroking him as he'd guide you through it. He really likes knowing that he'd be your first at everything, if you'd have him, of course. Eddie had a lot of things he wanted needed to do to you. He needed to taste every inch of you, imagining that you’d taste heavily on his tongue. Needed to know your scent, have it pervade his nostrils. Eddie was completely infatuated with you, and wasn't sure how he could act normal around you anymore. Not after that kiss. You had left him smitten. 

The blinds in your bedroom swiftly moved, causing the curtain to ripple at the movement. This paused the whirlwind of thoughts that were going through your head. You crease your eyebrows because you know they only did that when the doors in the trailer would open and shut thereafter. You had noticed this happen when Eddie came in one day earlier in the week to look at the faucet in your bathroom, and when he closed the door, the blinds shook. You still hadn’t heard Eddie’s music blaring from his van though, so you walked to the living room, now dressed in your “provocative” clothes you decided to put on, and looked around. The front door was still shut closed, and there was no sign of anyone breaking in while you were in your bedroom. This would be quite possibly the worst time for someone to break in, while you stand there in this barely there outfit and no weapon nearby to protect yourself. Shit. Maybe I should have locked the door.

“Mmm, my, my. What have we got here? Looking so lonely, princess.“ Eddie’s voice says from behind you. “Didn’t your mom always say to lock your doors at night? A lot of bad, scary guys out there, baby.” He grins mischievously, his eyes slowly scanning your figure. His throat becomes dry at seeing your nipples poke through the thin fabric of the camisole. 

“Holy shit Eddie, you scared me!” You had jumped when you heard his voice, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter, your lower back pressed up against it. He lets out a dark chuckle, like he’s enjoying playing this “bad, scary man who just “broke in”. 

“You wanted me to walk right in..well, here I am, babe.” He’s acting so confident but inside, he's ready to bust at the seams. “And I gotta say, you look like a meal. I could devour you right about now..” He takes a step closer to you, reaching out to run his thumb over your lower lip. “The whole ride home, I just..couldn't wait to see you. Wanna continue what we started..” You whisper as you look at him, noticing that his eyes are darker, filled with lust. You’re sure you look desperate, you definitely sound it. His lips form into a teasing smirk, running his tongue along his canine tooth all while his pants are feeling tighter and tighter. “I'm going to take my time with you. If you’ll let me, I'll untie your sensuality. I'll open up your heart, and satisfy my greed.” Eddie says, his breath hitting your neck as he’s pressed up against you, placing both hands next to yours on the kitchen counter, enclosing you with his body. You can distinctly feel his hard-on poking you against your mound. His lips are inches, if not centimeters, away from your skin, waiting for you to give him the ok to continue. He is a gentleman, after all. 

“I’ll-I will let you, Ed’s.” You say, all breathy and feeling weak in the knees. You're thankful he's got you pressed up against him because you were certain you'd drop onto the floor into a puddle of your own arousal. You feel his hot, wet mouth on your neck, giving you your very first hickey, causing you to let out a quiet moan. “You like how that feels?” Eddie smirks, moving one of his hands to hold onto your waist, gripping it as he goes in for another hickey, running the tip of his tongue over his mark, proud to make you his. To show everyone you belong to him. 

“Yes. That feels nice..” You’re certain he knows that you’re practically putty in his hands.

“Can't wait to lay you down and show you just how much you’ve consumed my mind. All the filthy thoughts I've had of you. Do you know how many scenarios I played in my head while I fucked my fist?” His smirks, running the hand he had on your hip down over your ass, giving it a hard squeeze. He doesn't miss the soft whimper you let out, making him growl lowly as he lunges forward to kiss you deeply, holding you in his arms. Your tongues are wrestling when he feels you grind against him, which nearly makes him short-circuit, about to lose the little composure he had left. “Fuck..” He mumbles, and sees you place both your hands over his chest, leading him to your couch. You’re currently super grateful to have that annoyingly large couch you had previously complained so much about. Eddie gently plummets down on the soft cushions, and immediately your eyes fall towards the prominent tent in his jeans. You're giddy knowing you caused that, and feeling empowered by the little confidence boost you’ve gained. Yet Eddie notes the obvious nerves while your hands tremble a bit just as you’re about to take off those small shorts.

 “Baby…you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. I'm fine with stroking one out, looking at you just like this.” He smirked and chuckled, hoping he hasn't caused you to think otherwise. That’s the last thing he’d want. 

“I know. I..I mean, I am a little nervous but...” You let out a soft chuckle, feeling chills run up your spine as his hand softly strokes the outside of your thigh. “But I want to at least do something tonight. Who better to guide me..than you..” You blush and lean over to pull down your shorts, letting them pool around your ankles. “Darlin’, you flatter me- oh fuck..” Eddie groaned, taking in your bare lower half as his eyes followed your movements. You chew on your inner cheek, hands nervously grabbing at the edge of the camisole you're about to remove. 

“I..want to grind on you..” 

“You can do anything you want to me, sweetheart. You could fucking shoot me, and I'd thank you for it.” He scoffed, thinking you could do no wrong in his eyes. You were perfect to him.

“Heh..uhm. Well, it’s something I saw in a video one time. I‘d like to try it.” His eyes are wide and lips are parted. You watch porn? You were indeed perfect.

 “Go for it, sweetheart. Experiment on me, but first..” He leans over to grab your shorts that you had stepped out of, and bunches them in his hand, feeling a damp spot on the crotch of them. A smirk forms on his face as he looks at the shorts, noticing the wet spot and puts it up to his nose, inhaling deeply and he lets out a satisfied sigh. God, you smell so sweet. 

“Eddie..!” You’re embarrassed, covering your face with your hands. 

“What? D’you know how long I've wanted to smell you?” He’s got that shit-eating grin, content in now knowing your scent, feeling like he’s hit a jackpot. He's definitely saving those shorts for himself. She won't mind.

You softly laugh, and let out a heavy sigh through your nose as you pull the camisole over your head, now standing fully nude for Eddie. The speed in which you undressed yourself for him honestly left you astounded. You know it went against everything that you kept telling yourself, but you came to the conclusion that Eddie made you feel safe, that he’d never want to hurt you. You bite your lower lip at how he’s staring at you with hungry eyes, his mouth practically watering as he watches every small movement you make. 

“I fear I've died and gone to heaven because holy shit, sweetheart. You're perfect.” His cock is painfully hard, ready to burst through the tight confinements of his pants when you walk over to him, and straddle his lap. He is able to feel your heat through the thick fabric of his pants, which makes his hips involuntarily thrust up, feeling like a damn dog in heat. 

“May I?” You ask, tugging on his belt, but wait for him to respond before you start to unbuckle it.

“Yeah.” Eddie breathes, though he's hardly paying attention to what you're even asking in that moment. He's too busy watching your delicate hands pull his zipper down, admiring how gentle you're being while you were appreciative of how patient he was. You felt you were moving at a snail's pace, at least that's how it felt like in your mind since you wanted to savor the moment. Eddie's sight had moved towards your breasts, admiring how supple they looked and how perfect they'd fit in his mouth. His eyes slowly trailed back down to your hands again, and then back up to your face, smiling at your blushing cheeks. “You're so beautiful..” He whispers and in your giddy state, you lean over to kiss him. Before he knew it, his cock was sprung free and you let out an audible gasp. 

“W-what? What's wrong?” Eddie looked at you, wondering if you suddenly had seen his scars. He wasn’t ready for that conversation yet. 

“You're so big..” You say, and reach out to wrap your hand around his width, able to feel him throb against your palm. The velvety skin felt smooth and warm as you make out the thick vein that was on the underside of his cock as you start stroking him, watching him crease his eyebrows, biting his lip. You wondered how he'd even fit in you when it came time for that, especially since you couldn't barely fit 2 fingers inside yourself.

“You're doing great, Y/N.. “ He spurs you on, grunting with each stroke you give him, which has him a whiny mess as you squeeze the head of his cock gently, spreading the pearlescent precum around, much to your curiosity. You gently press his cock down against his lower tummy, and maneuver your cunt over the underside of his shaft, sitting on him and do an experimental roll of your hips, earning a groan from both you and Eddie. “Fuck. I’m going to be honest, I don’t think I am going to last very long...” He’s watching you as his hands find purchase on your upper thighs, keeping you in place. You start rocking your hips forward in a more fluid pace, grinding yourself on him and moaning at the sweet relief you feel everytime your clit rubs against his cock. The friction you feel is borderline intoxicating, nothing you've ever felt before when you'd touch yourself. Despite the lack of experience, you weren't totally clueless, knowing you enjoyed how elated you'd get after an orgasm. You loved chasing that feeling.

“You're so wet, baby. Can't wait to eat that pretty pussy of yours. Bet you taste so sweet, like a delicious dessert..” Eddie grins and watches you, seeing how your breasts moved with the way you were gliding up and down on him. It had him incredibly, and embarrassingly close to cumming.

All that's heard in the small trailer is your moans along with Eddie's heavy panting as his grip on your thighs move to your hips, tightening his hold on you. “Faster..” He grunts, observing the trail of slick you're leaving on the underside of his dick the faster you grind. You're leaning over him now with both your hands on his chest, holding you up as you chase your own pleasure and orgasm, knowing you're about to reach that peak. “Fuuuck..” Eddie breathes out, gripping your hips even harder now as his cum spurts out onto his stomach, a large load from being virtually teased all evening. The image of him orgasming,  because of you…topples you over the edge. “Eddie!” You moan out, shutting your eyes tightly as you cum. Your movements come to a halt when you feel yourself a bit overstimulated, never being able to handle crossing that line. You're both trying to recollect yourselves, heartbeat thumping in your ears from the intensity of it all. 

“Was it everything you wanted it to be?” Eddie breaks the silence, smirking and chuckles, looking down at his stomach, seeing the mess he made, and then the mess you made on his cock. That brought him joy. Knowing that he barely touched you. That you used him to get off, he loved it. He could get used to that. 

“Yes..that was amazing..” you giggle and let out a deep, satisfied sigh, a small smile spreading on your lips as you stand up. Your legs are still wobbly from the intense orgasm, and you walk over to the lining closet, pulling the door open and grab a couple of hand towels to clean up. You're walking back to Eddie, and see him watching you like a hawk. “Babe, next time, I do the honors. Pretty thing like you shouldn't have to worry about cleaning this up.” Eddie says as he grabs the towel from your hands and cleans himself up. Next time. You like the sound of that. 

“Such a gentleman.” You blush as you grab the camisole, slipping it back on, and chuckle at Eddie who is frowning at you. “I had such a nice view.” He tsk, and stands up, pulling his pants back up, though he leaves them unbuckled. You’re both staring at one another, a small gap between you two. He’s looking at you, really looking at you as his hand reaches out to caress your cheek. He’s not sure how he got so lucky, to have a pretty thing like you honestly interested in him in a romantic sense. He closes the gap, and kisses you tenderly, never getting enough of his lips on yours. 

“We will take things at your pace. If…if you want to continue this. I’m-I don’t even know if you liked me enough to wanna do this again. You had fun, right?” Get it together Eddie, she’ll really want to go on another date now after this rambling.

“Eddie, relax.” You chuckle, smiling fondly at him. He’s so cute. “Yes, I had a lot of fun tonight. Between the concert, and well...” You blush and bite your lower lip. “I was actually going to ask.. if you’d like to spend the night? I have a few horror movies. Maybe pop some popcorn.” 

“Hell yeah, I’ll stay the night. I’ll get the popcorn, you pick the movie.” He kisses you, and walks into the kitchen, looking in all the cupboards for the popcorn box, making himself familiar with where everything was in your trailer. “Ah-ha.” He spots it, and grabs one packet and puts it in the microwave, pressing enter. He watches as you walk past him towards your bedroom,and admires the nice view of your ass, smirking as it jiggles with each step you take. The loud popping of the popcorn pulls his attention off of you in that moment, and he leans over to grab a large enough bowl to fill with the buttery popcorn. You come back around, dressed in just an oversized band tee. “Iron Maiden? You’re full of surprises, honey.” Eddie grins amusingly, as he throws the popcorn bag into the trash. “You have no idea.” You sweetly smile and open your fridge to pull out 2 soda cans, and walk over to the living room, placing the sodas on the coasters that were on the coffee table.

 “I picked Texas Chainsaw Massacre..”

“Going straight for the kill, huh? A classic.” Eddie chuckles and sits down on the couch, getting comfortable as he pats the seat next to him. You realize he still makes you nervous, and you’re not quite sure why. You literally got yourself off on him not even an hour ago, and he’s seen you fully nude now. You suppose that it's because this is the first time you’ve hung around with someone you actually like. And now he’s spending the night? Yeah, you understand why you have butterflies. Regardless, you muster up a smile, albeit a shy one, and sit next to him, thighs touching as you sit back and press play. 

The rest of the night is filled with stolen glances and little pecks here and there, barely paying attention to what’s going on in the movie. You really did intend on watching, but alas, it was just background noise at this point as you two sit there making out, not being able to keep your hands off of each other. It’s close to 1am, and you can hardly keep your eyes open. The movie had long been over, as you lay on Eddie. He’s running his fingers through your hair, and you’re listening to his heartbeat as if it's a lullaby, putting you to sleep. “Let’s head to the room. I reckon we won’t sleep comfortably here if we drift off.” He says, patting your butt to get you to get off of him. Not that he minds, but he moves around. A lot. He’s afraid he’ll knock you over in the middle of the night in his deep sleep. Your hum makes him think you agree with him though, as you stand up, and grab his hand to help pull him up with you. Eddie puts the popcorn bowl and empty soda cans in the kitchen sink, a task for the morning to deal with, and soon you both are in bed, under the thick blankets after brushing your teeth together. 

Eddie’s comfy in your plush bed. Smells much nicer than his, like you had recently washed the sheets, and they’re so much softer. He guesses you use fabric softener? He may have to invest in it if it truly works this well. This whole time he thought it was just a gimmick, but if he plans on having you sleep over too, well..he’ll do what he must.

“G’night Eds..” You say sleepily, laying on your side, facing him.

“Night, sweetheart.” He whispers, and leans over to kiss the top of your head, wrapping his arm around you to keep you warm. The trailer got quite cold, much colder than his, he noticed. His AC was something he usually would hold off on repairing. It was an expensive fix and most times, he slept naked anyway. He didn’t see the need to ever service it but if he was going to have you over like he intended, he definitely had to get it fixed. Eddie kisses your head one last time before you’re both out, soft snores heard shortly after. 

It's not even 10am the next morning and Eddie is already all over you. His body Is hovering over yours, holding his weight up by his forearms. He's giving himself a pat on the back for working out his arms at least. He fills your neck with soft kisses, low groans escaping him as he runs his hand up your thigh, wanting to make you feel like his goddess. That wasn’t an issue because you had never felt this desired in your adult life. 

“Eddie..” You sigh with a sleepy smile. 

“What..?” He grins, moving his lips to the other side of your neck, giving it the same treatment. “Thought I'd wake up early and enjoy the morning with a little morning breakfast.” He smirks, kissing down your neck and throat, peppering kisses along your collarbones. 

“I..I haven't showered this morning though.” You say, as you look at him. It was your routine ever since you were in school. An early morning shower to wake you up and get you ready to tackle the day. 

“You did last night? I smelled that fancy body wash on you when I broke in.” He chuckled, shrugging nonchalantly as he continued to make his way lower on you. 

“Yeah, but-”

“Babe. You're fine. Ya’ gotta let it marinate overnight so it tastes perfect, anyway.” He licked his lips, and you gasped out loud. “Eddie!” You playfully smack his upper arm, shaking your head as you see him continue moving on south, a playful grin on his face as he pushes your shirt up around your waist. You've done no real effort in stopping him though, your curiosity getting the best of you. “Please?” He is practically begging now, wanting nothing more than to put his tongue deep in you. He sees you spread your legs a little more, and makes out the small wet spot on your panties already. “I'll take that as a yes?” He says as he lingers over your clothed pussy, pressing a soft kiss to the top hem on your underwear. “Yes.” You nod, biting your lip in anticipation. His gratified look calms your nerves as he takes another deep inhale of your scent, sticking his tongue out to teasing flick at your clit over your underwear. his eyes are stuck on yours as he gauges your expressions, which you were already feeling euphoric with that light touch of his. 

“I'm going to take these off.” He says, hooking his fingers into your panties and slowly slides them down your legs, sitting up a little to toss them to the side of the bed, then looks at your pussy, all spread out for him. “Mm..” he lays on his stomach again, and holds your inner thighs wide open as he licks a slow stripe up your folds, wrapping his lips around your clit to give it a nice suck. The moan that left your throat was downright pornographic, making you flush with embarrassment. Eddie could tell, and he’d do anything to help break you out of that self conscious shell you hid behind. His bruising grip on your thighs keep them wide open for him, making you wince in pain and pleasure as he flicked your clit with his tongue, before he slid it into you, his nose bumping into your swollen bud as he relished in your taste. “Fuck, fuuuuck…” You’re writhing underneath him, and grinding on his face as you're already so close to that sweet finish line. 

“Yeah? You like that..?” Eddie groans as he pulls away from your dripping cunt and instead, slowly inserts his middle and ring fingers inside you. “Shit baby, you're so fucking tight..” The obscene sounds that were heard from him fucking you with his fingers should have made you recoil, should have made you want to curl into a ball and hide, but you were feeling too much ecstasy to even care at this point. “Can't wait to stretch you out with my cock, princess..” He groaned, resting his head on the inside of your thigh and looked up at you, a big smirk on his face knowing he's got you right where he wants you. Fucked out with your juices all over him. 

“You gonna cum for me, baby? I can tell you’re close. Squeezing my fingers so good..” He leans in to suck on your clit hard while he keeps fingering you, curling it upwards towards that spongy spot that makes you see stars. “Ed-Eddie! Fuck..I'm cumming..!” You all but yell, gripping his hair as the intense orgasm washes over you. Your heart is beating rapidly and your pussy is throbbing, but Eddie hasn't refrained from moving his fingers, or tongue for that matter. He's licking up every drop you gave him, making sure as to not waste a single bit of your delicious nectar. Your heavy breathing is music to his ears as he places a gentle kiss to your mound, kissing up to your lips, and smiles.

“Morning.” He chuckles, watching as you come down from your high. 

“Oh my god.” You softly laugh, and kiss him in return, tasting yourself on his tongue. “I could get used to being woken up like that.” 

“Consider it done. Every morning, my duty is to sneak into your trailer, hide in your closet while you sleep and then wake you up by feasting on your pussy.” He happily smiles, which causes you to heartedly laugh at his silliness. “Wouldn’t be a surprise if you tell me, now would it?” You play along, biting at your inner cheek. You’re certain Eddie has now picked up on most of your nervous habits. The inner cheek chewing, playing with your fingers, the lip biting, stuttering. You got teased for it a lot in school, yet Eddie finds it cute and endearing.

“You don’t have to be nervous around me, babe. It’s just me. Your cute neighbor...and…maybe boy..friend?” He says the last part as a question, in hopes that he isn’t overstepping. He knows he can do that often, from what others have told him, anyway. Being that obnoxious metalhead kid in high school gave him that title. You look at him, as that familiar reddish blush spreads over your cheeks, the one that he finds so cute. “And I just want to assure you that I know we’ve only known each other for what..a week now? But it’s been the best week of my life, Y/N. I-I don’t get many opportunities that come up for me like this. Meeting a genuinely nice girl…who’s actually into me? Most would say hell hath frozen over now that Eddie Munson got a girlfriend..” He chuckled, pouring his heart out to you. He felt you needed to hear this, so you wouldn’t doubt yourself so much. He could tell you did that often, just like he did to himself. ”I like you..if it wasn’t obvious enough with how much I like to be around you, and in you.” He grinned, reaching out to grab your hand and pulled you up, so that you’d be closer to him.

“I promise I’ll never hurt you..because I feel…you’re quite..apprehensive about that.” He says softly, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I..yes. I am. This would be my first relationship, like I’ve said. I saw the pain my mom went through when it happened to her. Her previous relationships. One was abusive..one cheated multiple times. She never deserved that..” You softly speak, looking at your hands as you shook your head. “ I don’t..think I could handle that pain, if it happened to me. I know I’m still young..but..” You hesitate continuing to open up, like you normally did with anyone. You sometimes wondered how you even had friends. 

“Talk to me, babe. If we’re going to be build this friendship, this relationship, we gotta get things out in the open. Be honest with each other." Eddie says, stroking your hand. 

“Well, I told you a little bit about my life back at home when you took me to the farmers market. ‘Know that I basically had a rough high school experience. I was that shy, quiet kid in school..ever since forever basically. I did have friends, but kids were so mean. Then I started high school and fucking christ..” You sigh, looking at Eddie, who remained looking at you, trying to be comforting. The more you thought about it, the more you became disappointed in yourself. Why did you let it affect you so much? “I-I guess I had really low self esteem all through my school years. Never had someone show any interest in me, not even an anonymous note in my locker…like they do in the movies, you know?” You chuckle, biting your lip as you feel the emotions start to overwhelm you, so many memories of those days replaying in your mind. “One  time I ask a guy I liked to hang out, I thought maybe he’d be into me a bit. But he literally laughed in my face after turning me down. Saying he didn’t date my kind. Whatever the fuck that meant.” The tears are forming, as you tilt your head up and sniffle, not wanting to cry in front of him. Not again, anyway.

“Baby, here. Look at me.” Eddie’s calm voice pulls you from your negative thoughts. A nagging voice that was always there, saying you weren’t good enough. “I don’t know those people…they sound like absolute fuckers, but I will say…I gotta thank them. You know why? Because you said you left that life at home wanting to escape, wanting to start a new life. Well, I wouldn’t have met you if that didn’t happen. I know that’s selfish, but give me a chance to..show you how good I can love you. Let me erase all those negative thoughts you have in your pretty head. You deserve to feel good about yourself. To be treated like the angel you are.” He says, stroking your cheek, hoping he’d have some success in taking you out of that dark corner you always seemed to gravitate towards. 

“Whatever happened in high school, those idiots…are just that. Idiots. I am no stranger in being the laughing stock for those football players or cheerleaders. I imagine you can tell I was not a popular guy by any means.” He chuckles. You smile softly at him, at his efforts to help you get out of that slump. 

“I-I know. I gotta leave that behind in the past. I just…tend to second guess myself with everything. Always questioning things..” You sigh, and cross your legs, feeling his hand on your back, softly caressing it as he tilts his head to the side a little, pressing it up against yours. It’s a quiet gesture, him giving you some time to express your next words, if needed. You knew he was right, knowing this is what you moved to Hawkins for. To make a new life, a new beginning, and whatever life threw your way, you’d handle it as a new person. And that’s exactly what life did. 

“Now, let’s enjoy this lovely day, yeah? It’s actually a perfect Sunday.” He stands, and extends his hand out for you to grab, and pulls you up with him. 

“After a quick shower, please.” You beg, wanting nothing more than to wash away last night’s, and this morning's, depravity but mostly just to feel refreshed and clean.

“Go ahead. I gotta check on some things at home. Meet me there, ok?” Eddie kisses you, and grabs his keys from the kitchen counter. “Oh shit, I forgot to take care of this.” He looks at the mess in the kitchen sink, knowing he said he’d handle it in the morning. He had to be better about that.

“I got it. I’ll see you in a bit, Eds.” You smile as you walk to your front door, opening it for him. He turns to kiss you before jogging over to his trailer, blowing you another kiss and then goes in. Truth is, he didn’t want to shower with you, not yet. He’d have to explain those damn scars he was so self-conscious about, and get into everything that has happened in Hawkins over the last few years. What if that made you want to leave? He couldn’t have that, no. He knows eventually he’ll have to tell you, especially when you’re ready to have sex with him. No way is he fucking you with a shirt on and no pants, like some fucking moron. He battled with the thoughts in his head, knowing he was being a bit of a hypocrite since he, quite frankly, told you to open up to him, and spill whatever was in your head, and here he was, not telling you everything he had dealt with in his young life on earth. A soft sigh escapes him as he steps into the shower and turns on the water, rubbing his face and groans frustratingly, at himself mostly. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a girlfriend. Sometime during his first senior year attempt, he thinks. Since then, it’s been pretty lonely. Now that he’s got you pretty close to wanting to be in a relationship with him, he had to get his shit together. Tell you all about his life, the bullshit he endured in ‘86. He definitely had to keep his trailer clean. He’d turn into a bit of a slob after Wayne moved out. Well, he was never tidy, but the state of his trailer left him ashamed, especially since yours was so neat. 

“Fuck..” Eddie mumbles, grabbing a 3rd bag to fill with trash that was on the coffee table and the floor surrounding. “Shoulda just told her I’d meet her back there..” He sighs, annoyed that he was breaking a sweat after his shower, and groans when soda drips all over his hand from a half full can. He’s ready to throw it across the room when your soft knocks against his door causes him to pause. Maybe if he stays completely still, you won’t see him through the blinds but that doesn’t seem to work when you knock again and yell out, “Eds, I can see you!” a soft giggle heard from behind the door. “Comin’.” He stands and walks over to let you in, a shameful look on his face as you take in the condition of his trailer. “I uh…the maid took the week off.” He says, joking to hide the humiliation he feels when you take a step in and cross your arms. “The week, or the whole year off?” You chuckle and grab the trash bag from his hand, smiling. “I’ll help.” You say and ignore his protests that you don’t have to, that this was his mess he had to straighten out. “I like cleaning. So, good luck with convincing me otherwise.” You smirk and kneel by the couch, starting to toss empty beer cans into the bag. 

Eddie pulls a lawn chair next to yours that sits by your small vegetable garden, facing the open area of grass and the start of woods further down. You’d yet to go exploring in there. “So, you sit out here, and just watch the sunset?” He says, handing you the bottle of water that you requested, and takes a seat beside you, extending his legs out as he cracks open the can of beer for himself. “I do. It doesn’t take too long, since the tall trees kinda hide it after a bit, but it looks beautiful. Relaxes me after a day at work.” You say and turn your heads towards him, admiring his side profile. You really liked his hair, a wild mane that fit his wild personality perfectly. Those full lips that kissed you so tenderly, yet feverish in need. The heavenly bulbous tip of his nose that bumped into your clit repeatedly when his tongue was lapping at your pussy. 

“You know darlin’, you can always take a photo. They last longer.” He teases with a grin, watching you quickly look straight ahead.  

“Oh, fuck off.” You softly laugh, and take a sip of water, holding his hand when he reaches out to grab it, needing to have some part of you in his grasp. It was comforting to him, as it was for you. What better way to enjoy the Sunday evening than with your cute neighbor, watching the sunset from the comfort of your backyard. 

A sigh is heard from Eddie. "Alright. Time to tell you about the upside down.."