#(( 🫶🫶 these two. he’s insufferable so sorry about that 🫶🫶 ))

[runelocked]

❛  you didn't tell me that was a rule ... i didn't know i wasn't supposed to do that!  ❜ coughs

“ I DID, however, tell you to call me sir. ” William’s reply could almost be called bored, if not for the heated possession in his tone, the dark, glittering want in his eyes . . . The way he is bearing down, skin pressed against skin and chest pressed against back. “ You’re a smart girl. I know I don’t need to spoon feed you everything. ”

When he leans impossibly closer, this time his breath ghosts against her ear.

“ Now prove it to me. ”

[csainz5]

hello! i saw your requests were open and wanted to pop in! i have a bit of a weird? idk request, where it’s like max verstappen x reader first where it ends with angst, and then she ends w carlos endgame?? maybe a whole lotta lover boy feels from carlos and ‘oh i fucked up something great’ feels from max, like essentially carlos that has been silently lining throughout readers relationship w max too?? i’m so sorry if this confused you! i loved ur previous carlos sainz fic!! 🤍🤍

BLOOD FLOWS RED

genre: fluff; light smut

pairing: bestfriend!max x reader; carlos x reader

summary: max constantly fucking up comes in no better time for carlos.

word count: 3.7k (my longest fic so far 💀)

warnings: angst, slight loverboy feels from max if you squint. voyeur max? not really but kinda ig and no beta we die like the ferrari fans we are 🫡 google translate ass spanish, forgive me 😞🫶

author notes: OMG ANON YOU ARE A GENIUS!!! I LOVED THIS REQUEST AND I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING IT. but small change tho, max x reader isn’t rlly like a proper relationship. anyways, hope u guys enjoy 😘😘😘

you were both 10 when you first met. your parents had been friends for a while by then, and they decided that they would place you and max in the same school. the two of you instantly kicked it off. it was like you guys were meant to be friends. you always shared the same opinions, the same preferences and all.

school with max was fun. the best, infact. the both of you hit it off well since the first time you met and had been inseperable (and insufferable) since. it was practically known to everyone that if max were to take a seat, the one beside it instantly belonged to you. you two had different friend circles, yes. But you were definitely each others best friend regardless.

highschool. highschool was a turning point in your friendship. although it was still as magical as it was, max’s attention at that time drifted between girls and racing. the former, burnt your heart with jealousy. everytime he ditched plans with you for his new girlfriend, you secretly prayed to god they would break up so you could have him all to yourself. The latter however, you didnt mind so much. you were always a fan of racing, and it only bought you two closer. you still remember go karting with max like it was yesterday. even if he was always the one to win, you weren’t too far behind, always coming it right after him. your deepest secrets, your highs and lows, your intrests, and everything about you was known to max, and max only. everyone would see you with him all the time, so no guys would ever approach you in school. Its not like you really minded it though, because max’s girlfriends only ever lasted two weeks at the most, and you guys would find your way back to each other.

You found solace in the unwavering friendship you shared with Max . Growing up together, navigating the twists and turns of life side by side, your bond evolved into something deeper over the years. You were always hopelessly in love with Max, but you concealed your feelings, afraid of risking the precious friendship you had cherished oh so much. Everyone but max could see it. I mean how couldnt they? you were always like a lost puppy around the paddock, finding your way to max. Much like your races, you would always find your way right behind him. it was clear in the way you looked at him, with stars in your eyes. How your voice went slightly higher when you were around him. How you relax when you’re with him. How you’re the loudest person during a race, always screaming his name as he raced by. Everyone felt sorry for you, really. Because in return to all of your affections was nothing but a cold and stoic response. Don’t get me wrong, Max definitely loved spending time with you, probably moreso than anyone else, but it was nothing in comparison to your admiration for him.

Afterall, in the world of Formula 1, where speed and competition reigned supreme, there was so space for screw ups. you needed to work hard for what you want and you needed to be cunning. and for max, nothing was as important as winning this year’s championship and more to come, so you’ve become used to his behaviour. he was quick, ruthless and on the top, and he wasn’t about to let anything get in the way of his success. so even though it stung when you could see how little you mattered to him over the sport, you convinced yourself it was okay. Because this was max’s dream since he was little, and whats a wish to date a boy over a pursuit for the championship but a speck of dust.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, you watched Max prepare for yet another exhilarating race. Your heart raced in sync with the roaring engines, anticipation filling the air. Deep down, you yearned for Max to realize the depths of your affection, but maybe it was too much to ask for, you think. He was always too caught up in his relentless pursuit of victory. Everyone saw it, even the rugged and striking driver of ferrari, with the number 55 adorned on his red suit.

Max insisted you leave him alone for a moment, so he could gather his thoughts before the race. “Are you sure, max?” “please, just go” reluctantly, you agreed and went into the paddock club. you settle into the couch and wallow to yourself. you just wanted to be there with him so you could calm his nerves, why was he acting unlike himself? you gather that recently this is all thats been happening. you always go behind him, wanting to be with him at all times, hoping to be the centre of his attention, but he stands like a stonewall. you’ve grown tired of it really. But come on, you knew you would find your way back to him again. You were infact in love with him since you knew what love was, weren’t you?

You get startled when a hand waves in front of your face “helloo?” “oh my god im so sorry” “no worries” he shoots you a cheeky smile. “did you need anything carlos?” “nothing, i just wanted to ask if i could sit by you” “yeah ofcourse, you didnt need to ask” honestly, this was the most you’ve ever spoken with carlos, so you were confused by his sudden intrest in you. but really, it wasn’t sudden at all. too absorbed into the grumpy redbull driver, you never noticed a tall figure clad in red lurk behind you two. He had seen it all. His eyes burned with rage everytime he saw you with max. What did he ever do to deserve you?

“Carlos? mate where the hell were you? you need to come to the garage, hurry up” charles says, appearing out of thin air “i’ll see you later, okay?” “Bye sainz” Looking back at you, carlos runs away behind the monagasque. you smile to yourself at the sudden attention from carlos. Atleast he distracted you, right?

yeah right. your nerves were all over the place the second the red lights blinked, and the race began. max was so off his game today, whats wrong with him? he was so far behind this race that even the alfa romeo cars had been ahead of him. it was his first race lately where he was behind a ferrari for once. you felt your heart thump as you wince, you know how much shit redbull & max’s father give him on the offchance that he isnt the best in the game. he didn’t deserve it, you think. he doesn’t deserve the shit they put him through. since this was the start of the season, everyone was very anticipated to see the result, to see who is going to be this years leading drivers.

you catch your eyes drifting towards one specific car though, and its not the redbull one you’ve always got your eyes on. the person leading the first race of the season happens to be the man that youve last talked to. carlos. you hold your breath, and blink for just a moment and there you see it, carlos gets the pole position. you dont know whether to be happy or not, a feeling you’re unfamiliar with makes your gut twinge. were you happy with the results? as much as you’d like to convince yourself otherwise, it was true. for some reason carlos winning made you feel proud, but in a split second you turn your eyes back to the circuit. max had gotten p7.

it was the night of that day that max had seen you under a different light. your look for the party had caught the eyes of everyone there, and unfortunately for max, even the eyes of a certain latino were set on you. Carlos was the first person you noticed the moment you stepped into the club. the ferrari pair had rented out the entire club for that night, celebrating their p1 & p2 standings. you instinctively go towards Carlos, talking him up about his big win. “Sainz, that overtake on lap 35? Blew my mind.” “you must’ve been attentive on me to catch that” he jokes, his chest rumbling with laughter. “oh come on everyone’s talking about it” “maybe. but so are you, and thats not very common” “I give credit where credit is due, what can i say?” you giggle, taking a flute of champagne. “hey, how come you aren’t with max? i ask only because this is the first time you’ve come outside that circle” he asks, slightly avoiding eye contact with you. “well, i guess you could say i just found someone more worthy of my time” “Oh..?” clearly amused with your answer, carlos decided that he’s not going to let you leave his side. He had a taste of it, and he knew he couldn’t let go just yet.

2 drinks become 4, and 4 drinks become 8 when you decide that you are done being the quiet girl behind max. you think that it’s time that you let go, live the moment for yourself, and yourself only. okay, and maybe Carlos too. conversations with him were just so light and breezy, you didnt have to hold yourself back hoping you’d be molded into the kind of girl he wants. it was obvious that he was interested in you as is. “Carlos” “yes, cariño?” “How come ive never spoken to you before?” “You know, actually you have” he wasn’t wrong, but that was just small talk at events. This? This was different. you knew it. He knew it. “No, no i mean like.. this” you say, speech slurred, hand reaching to brush his hair. “You’re driving me crazy, mi vida” he chokes out, eyes closed and a sigh escaping his lips. “Carlos..” you feel like you cant breath as you say, “Help me forget him” by this point of your conversation you had realised that he did, infact notice things about you. Maybe even in a way no one else did. you raise your eyes to meet his and you lose yourself in their charm. his brown eyes with specks of gold drew you in more than you’d like to admit. “Hermosa, when you have me,” he raises your chin up “You will be sober when you have me, and you wont be forgetting it any time soon”wind gets caught up in your throat at his bold statement.

“Come on, let loose carlos join me!!” by this point it was the alcohol talking, not you. “okay okay how about we get you home now?” “oh shut up im just getting started” “no you’re not, come with me” carlos says as he throws your arm around his shoulder to support you. “fuck, is she okay man? i can take her to her house just leave her with me” max say’s, finally emerging after eyeing you both all night. “don’t hold your breath mate, she’s going home with me”

you wake up the next morning with the worst headache, which only gets worse when you realise you can’t recognise the room you’re in and the clothes you’re wearing aren’t yours. you shoot your head up as you hear the door open. Carlos? wait a second. did you and he..? “Carlos, did we—“ “Did you want us to?” “Oh my god. OH MY GOD??” “Calm down im just messing with you, no we didn’t do anything. i just had to change your clothes because you puked all over them” this was so embarrassing you couldn’t bear to look him in the eyes.

“im so sorry, i really am. i didnt think i would let go that much yesterday.” “Don’t worry, i had fun. plus its nice seeing you not be so timid” your cheeks flush at his compliment. Fuck. i abandoned max yesterday, you thought, booking a cab to his house as you pack your stuff. “Youre not seriously booking a cab right now, are you?” “Not all of us come from Generational wealth, Carlos” you say, hoping you get connected to a driver as soon as possible. “No, no. you’re coming with me.” he says, taking his car keys and showing you the way to the garage. The moment you arrive at max’s house, you see an unfamiliar pair of heels by his shoes.

you knock on the door “Max?” No answer.“Max??” no answer yet again. you use your keys to open the door. “I didn’t expect you to come at this time” he says, his hand over a girl who you barely recognise’s shoulder. “Who’s this, max?” “It doesn’t matter, she was just about to leave” the woman looks confused but exits, mumbling something to max as she leaves. “Whos that, your conquest of the week?” you ask the second you hear the door click. “Why do you care? you must’ve had fun whoring out with the ferrari boys yesterday anyways.” He didnt mean for it to sound as harsh as it did, but what was done was done. Seriously? “Fuck you max. i’ve always been with you every second of every day and you don’t appreciate me for a moment. you constantly ditch me for these random fucking girls who you know are just with you because you’re in redbull. And i let myself go for one night. One fucking night and you’re on my back calling me a whore? you know what? i am tired. i am done with your bullshit. Maybe ferrari is better after all, huh?”

“You don’t understand my point” “what point max? what fucking point? Are you blind or do you just convince yourself to ignore the fact that ive been in love with you since we started talking? Do you know how much it hurt me to walk in your shadow all these years hoping you would notice that i was there for you? to notice that i was the one for you?” “You love me?” he sounds heartbroken saying it, but you’re on an adrenaline rush and don’t take note of it. you could feel your feelings for him fading more and more as you spoke your feelings out to max. “No. not anymore.” “Fuck. i never- i never thought, fuck.” “guess you just realised it too late mate” a voice speaks up behind you. “Lets go back, i cant stand to see his face.” you spit, with venom lacing your words as they sunk into max’s heart like a dagger.

After the incident with max, You realised that the night with the ferrari driver would be the start of something much, much bigger than you had expected. somewhere in between the races the 33 on your shirts slowly turned into 55. You didnt have to tell max you’ve moved on, it was clear as day. Carlos had gifted you a bracelet, a custom cartier one with the initials c.s adorned by a small pendant of a chili. everyone on the paddock could see that max was history to you. By this point it was also famously known that you had become Carlos’s girl. you didn’t mind the chatter though, you were so happy with carlos, he made you feel things that no one had been able to make you feel. he was gentle, and understanding. But at the same time, he knew exactly how to treat you, and the fact that you liked to be treated a little rough, once in a while, and he played it like a charm.

Your situationship with him was quick to blossom into a relationship, the best one you’ve ever been in. Days with Carlos were magical. he was crazy for you, as were you for him. you were so used to people stepping all over you that carlos treating you the way you deserved to be treated caught you off gaurd at times, but you grew attached to that quality of him. he made sure that he was the best man for you, and that you were treated exactly how you deserved to be. you noticed that you didnt even ask him for anything, he miraculously knew exactly what you wanted, and he delivered seamlessly. You had drifted significantly from max, but you didn’t mind anymore. Carlos was the only one for you and there were no doubts about it.

This particular morning was that of the emilia- romagnia grand prix, with you by the ferrari garage with carlos. everyone there had become used to you at this point, charles and some of the engineers becoming some of your best mates. Right now you were in carlos’s room, sitting on the bed as you watched him get ready. it was a home race for the ferrari boys. “What?” carlos talks over the phone, clearly upset with whatever he’s heard. you sit up straighter at his sudden change in demeanour. “Fuck. guess there’s nothing we can do huh?” he says, moments before he hangs up. “It’s canceled. the race is canceled because of a flood.” “What? Im so sorry to hear that Carlos, i know how much this race means to you.” you say, walking up to him and fixing up his shirt.

“Is there anything i can do to make you feel better?” memories of that night rush back into your head. you take in a sharp breath remember what carlos told you that day. “I’m sober now” “You remember that?” he looks into your eyes, his own shifting into a darker look. “I couldn’t for a moment forget it” you pull his collar in towards yourself “you little minx, me estás matando” “Lets see if you’re a man of your word, sainz” you dare to say. “you’re gonna wish you never challenged me, hermosa.”

His lips crash against yours as he pulls you up to jump onto him, legs wrapped around him as you take him in, in all his glory. your brain becomes foggy, and a thousand diffrent scenarios run around your head and at once, the all stop, Leaving your head a blank space. you run your hands through his hair, breathless. he walks you both over to the bed, his lips never leaving yours as unsaid words get conveyed to you. i want you. he gently places you on the bed, getting onto his knees.

You pull away from him for a moment, just a moment. you needed to get comfortable into the bed, and even the split second away from him makes you grow impatient. you look down to see him frantically trying to pull your shorts off you. Frustrated, you pull him by his neck back to you, kissing him with a rush you’ve never experienced before. you close your eyes, his wandering hands feeling making you feel sensitive all over. even a harmless rub against your thigh ticks you off. the whimper youve been suppressing comes out into the kiss, making Carlos feel as though he was losing his mind. he couldn’t take it anymore. he wanted you, he wanted you so badly he felt like a teenager about to cum in his pants.

All you wanted was to scream his name, loud enough for the entire hotel to hear, and he, wanted to listen to them on repeat like they were the best musical piece ever created. he was drunk on lust. “Can i?” you nod with all your might, you couldn’t handle it anymore. “Use your words, mi amor” “Yes, yes. please i want it so bad carlos, please.” “God, you sound so angelic begging for me right now.” Just as he was about to take off his top, the two of you hear a series of knocks on your door.

“Are you in here? its max” “Why is he here?” just as you were about to cuss him out, carlos signals you that hes got it covered. He picks you up, making you put your legs over his torso again. “Carlos? what are you-“ he shushes you, a finger falling over your swollen lips. just as you reach the room door, he clashes his lip’s against yours again. he slowly takes off the lock on the door, leaving max to think he can come in.

max is greeted by the two of you feverishly making out as he opens the door. you and carlos pay him no mind though, as if you couldn’t even see him. “Fuck you guys” He shouts as he bangs the door on his way out.

[mrghostrat]

Hello and good morning/day/night :]

I was wondering, in BNF, we’ve gotten tiny little bits of information about the ‘Nice and Accurate Prophecies’ (not sure if that’s the correct title, sorry) book and TV series, if there was anything else you could tell us about it?

Character names, storylines, plots, any fun details you may have made up or otherwise, etc, etc.

I just think it’s sweet how interested both Aziraphale and Crowley are in the series, and if you might be as interested, if not more, in it too.

Thank you, and have a lovely Sunday. 🫶

this is it, my leash has snapped, i'm wild in the streets, thank u for asking; i'm gonna go be insufferable now

(hi @neil-gaiman if you see this, i think it's safe to read, but it does border on being fan fic. i'm writing a fic where crowley and aziraphale are an artist + writer in an online fandom, much like we are for good omens, and this is the fake story i've made for them to be fans of 💛)

The Nice and Accurate Prophecy

info dump of the fake 5 book series by Agnes Nutter (1985-1992) and its fake fandom:

The Nice and Accurate Prophecy

The Strange and Improbable Prophecy

The Vague and Perfidious Prophecy

The Tense and Harrowing Prophecy

The Faint and Ineffable Prophecy

a dramatic, layered story with a bizarre and unexpectedly lovable cast of characters, humour that hits you out of nowhere, and a lot of attitude from the narrator. a la Good Omens, A Series of Unfortunate Events, Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy

fantasy/historical fantasy and mildly action & romance

a la good omens, a witch and a witchfinder become friends and help each other throughout history, despite being on opposite sides. they get closer as they fight against the immoral plays from their prospective sides (the witchfinder army and a demonic cult the witch was born into) that each lose sight of their core values in a bid to hold more power over the world.

the story is set primarily in a medieval fantasy era, but suddenly jumps to the present in the later books, catching everyone off guard and giving a whole new context to enjoy the story. the challenges they face parallel the earlier story but in a modern take with modern technological twists. the modern era is the late 80s, since that's when it was written.

the witch reincarnates, similar to doctor who, due to a high class black magic ritual they performed in their arrogant youth (which they were NOT supposed to have access to). they've had long lifetimes where they die of old age, and others where they've barely managed to live a year. their reincarnations aren't entirely random; they will reincarnate according to their growth and preferences as a person (a la Magical Boy's magical outfit generations), which includes fluctuation in gender identity. their pronouns fluctuate depending on each "face" they wear, but have canonically been a "they" before. the good side of the fandom (crowley & aziraphale) default to they/them as an overall rule. they do have a name, but they like to change that too, so the fandom almost exclusively calls them witch, or witchy.

the witchfinder also has a name, but the fandom have taken to calling him witchfinder to match the fact that witchy is called by their role. it also helps that a lot of the witchfinder narration refers to him by role instead of name. he is human, 30ish in appearance, but at the end of the first book, the witch fears to lose him and curses him with immortality against his knowledge to try and keep him safe.

witch is crowley-coded, witchfinder is aziraphale-coded. my to-do list includes an illustration of the two of them played by michael and david :') but i picture them being kind of like newt and anathema for the most part.

ship names include witch/finder, witchwitch, w² or witch², and witchfound.

at the start of the first book, they meet and become friends without knowing each other is a witch & finder. the witchfinder is a bit bumbly, like newt, and the witch is cool and suave but neurotic and insecure like many human au variations of crowley (major overcompensation vibes). witch is male at the start of the first book. their friendship is secure when witch finds out he's a witchfinder, so there's less "oh my god i'm friends with the enemy, is he going to kill me in my sleep?" and more "ah fuck, Lets Drink About This"

there's battles, horseback riding, camping out in dark woods, disappearing and losing each other for months at a time, and many missed connections as they try to work together against two common enemies, whilst keeping up the facade that they're on their respective team's sides.

there's charged chemistry in the first book, but it's more plot heavy. there's hints of shippy moments in the 2nd book that fall in between the plot. there's a Moment of almost confession in the 3rd book, and a non romantic kiss towards the end (we gotta, for neil). they're pretty much married in the 4th book, securely at each other's side, but never actually talk about it until the end, and there's a more explicitly stated shippy connection in the 5th book.

agnes herself is a total recluse who drops books out of nowhere then goes back to existing somewhere in the english countryside (people presume). she's happy to supply signed copies to fundraisers and conventions, and sometimes random bookshops across the country will be vandalised with genuine autographs on the inside covers. she's notoriously pedantic about being involved with adaptions behind the scenes, but she has no social media and isn't ~around~. she once did a talk when she was presented with an honorary doctorate, and did a single book signing when the first Prophecy book came out, but beyond that she keeps to herself.

there are a small handful of quotes from her in behind-the-scenes footage talking vaguely about character intensions and clarifying world building, but she likes to leave things up to interpretation like neil does. it's in these few snippets of interaction we've seen from her that she's steadfastly supportive of intersectionality and lgbt rights, like staring dead-eyed at an interviewer when they ask her a ridiculously heteronormative question about the characters (like "have you read my books?")

adaptions include:

(most adaptions start like the book, with a male witch at the beginning that turns into a female witch when they first regenerate. the early ones usually change the pacing by switching to a female actor by the time they realise witchfinder is a witchfinder, unlike in the book where he's male for this scene, and there's way less Charged™ chemistry between the m/m witch/finder.)

Feature Film: late 90s, kind of cheesy, but good spirited fantasy (a la Indiana Jones). focuses on the first book alone, with hints to a sequel that never happened.

Abandoned TV Pilot: early 2000s, a little too dramatic but still a good time (a la the Dungeons and Dragons 2000, ASOUE 2004). good source of gifs and Moments™ but the fandom is generally Fine with it being abandoned.

Stage Performance: late 2000s-early 2010s, a stellar stage adaption of the first book with elements of the 90s movie. f/m witch/finder the whole way through. one cast used m/m actors but it was a short run and only a handful of fans were lucky enough to catch or remember it. crowley would give his left arm (or someone's, anyway) to have experienced it, so a fan sent him some flip phone camera footage of it that he keeps on a harddrive in his safe.

HBO Streaming Series: late 2010s-present, high quality, highly revered, resurged the fandom's popularity and spread the series further overseas. made in america, but doesn't try to americanise the series. extremely respectful to the books, with easter eggs to the film, and is working its way through the entire book series (a la The Witcher netflix series). f/m witch/finder, but has had one episode that included some flash backs/montages of different witch faces. probably like 15 minutes total screentime of a male witch played by a ncuti gatwa level/style of actor, which the fandom has giffed, edited, and screencapped to oblivion.

Several bonus books: Agnes has written a few extra books (a la The Unauthorized Autobiography of Lemony Snicket and The Beatrice Letters), as well as curated some anthologies from other authors (a la A Study In Sherlock). there are a total of 3 anthologies so far, in which other authors have written stories about the characters in their own tellings. basically like canonised, published fan fiction, curated and authorised by agnes herself. There's also an unfinished graphic novel that retells the book series (a la The Adventure Zone comic), but has been WIP/unheard of since the 3rd book.

[pedgito]

I NEED to see brat tamer!Eddie and bratty!Reader. Like every little thing reader is a brat about. “can you do that for me?” “I don’t know, can I?” Vibes yk? Also I love the idea of Reader getting needy and bratty and she starts tugging on his belt loops to get his attention while he’s working on hellfire stuff. Okay thank you, love you🫶

author's note: uh...yeah i have no words. sorry for this.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), bratty!reader, dom!eddie (sorta), degrading language, rough foreplay/sex (slapping, hair pulling, ect), unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), lots of manhandling, dom/sub dynamic (sorta), reader loves teasing eddie at any and every opportunity, this is just completely self indulgent dirty smut

word count: 3k

It started at the Hellfire meeting that night, just as you two slipped through the door and waited for others to file in a few minutes later. His searches for the light in the dark of the room, mumbling over his shoulder toward you.

“Can you grab my stuff?” He asks monotone, turning his head to glance at your before successfully finding the switch and flipping it on.

And normally, you’d do it without question. But, Eddie had been insufferable for the better half of the day and most of the morning—finding every way to tease you throughout the day. Small touches, snide remarks, all the stuff he knew got under your skin the quickest and then it all went dead, focusing on the big event for the night—too you, just another D&D session.

So you turn it up, dropping your things on the table as you spoke, “I don’t know, can I?”

Eddie scoffs softly, rounding on his heels to turn in your direction. “Excuse you?”

“You heard me.” You reply sharply, standing straighter as Eddie walked your way, “Can I?” You repeat yourself, dragging the words out.

“Are you already starting this?” Eddie asks, eyes narrowing slightly as his eyebrows crease in frustration.

“Oh—so it’s fine when you mess with me all day, but the moment I flip it back on you, it’s a problem?”

And maybe it was a little bold, but you’ve never been one to hold back when it came to defy Eddie—you never backed down from an argument, even when you knew you were fated to lose.

Eddie crowds you in, hand drifting along the column of your neck until his thumb can press against the underside of your jaw, titling your face up to meet his.

“Not here,” He says lowly, “—you want to act like that? Save that shit for later.”

Later—out of the watchful eyes of others, in private, somewhere Eddie could deal with it the way he wanted to.

You grimace slightly, wiggling away from his grip, but it only tightens further, his jaw clenching at your moment,

“Got it?” He asks, expecting only one answer.

You’re nice enough to play along for the moment, giving him a subtle nod. Unfortunately, it was only the beginning.

Eddie’s sat near the end of his bed, feet planted firmly on the floor and his elbows digging into the rips of his jeans, leaving small indentations in the skin—and Eddie’s so lost in his own scribbling and jotting down of notes that he doesn’t even notice the faint tugging at first. He thinks that maybe your foot skimmed him on accident, turning over in bed as you napped. He’d watched you fall asleep in the passenger seat of his van after Hellfire and he was kind enough to carry you inside—because despite the risky and powerful dynamic between you two, he still loved you as he would any partner and it was a small way to show his affliction toward you and just how much he cared, but the adoration you had for it was short lived, remembering how sweltering his words had been earlier in the evening.

The days weren’t always like this either—you could go days, weeks even, another normal and healthy relationship, but there was always that deep, dark underbelly that lingered when things got too tense or one of you went to far.

You crawled forward slowly, eyes still hazy from sleep as you curled around him, fingers looping into the loops of his jeans, belt forgotten and the button of his jeans spread open. It gave you less resistance, tugging and tugging until he sighed with a long, heavy breath.

“Stop.” He complained, though it was lightheartedly and didn’t seem at all threatening, the dull pencil flipping between his fingers absently.

You make a small noise, a groan of disapproval as you tightened your fingers and tugged harder, nearly forcing him backwards, papers slipping from his hands as he tumbled back against you, palm barely able to catch himself.

“God—do you ever listen?” He asks, turning over his shoulder to flare up at you, your mouth turned up in a salacious grin.

You shook your head slowly, a slow hand creeping under the collar of his shirt and beyond the chain of his necklace, blunt fingers dragging against the pale, alabaster skin of his chest and through the stubbly patch of hair there. Eddie tenses, using his free hand to grab your arm, yanking it out his shirt.

“Hey,” You pout, tossing your hand to the side as Eddie’s face morphs into annoyance, shoving himself back up and away from you, “I’m bored.” You tell him, voice soft and pleading.

“And you were asleep five minutes ago,” Eddie counters, “you know I need to get this campaign finished and you always think this is the most convenient time to ask for sex.”

You laugh softly, watching as he departed the bed and stood on his feet, unbuttoned pants leaving little to imagine as the hard line of his cock pressed against the zipper of his jeans. “Is it working?” You inquired teasingly.

“No.” Eddie doubles down, how shameful of him.

Your eyes flick down to his dick pointedly, smirk growing on your face. “Oh, so we’re lying now?”

“What’s with the fucking attitude all day?” Eddie avoids your line of questioning, bartering his own.

You shrug, walking on your knees toward the edge of the bed, leaning back on your heels as you looked up at him, his face devoid of any emotion, eyes eerily hollow.

“It’s been a while,” You tell him somberly, despite the teasing hand on his cock, palm rubbing against the front of his jeans. He doesn’t move away, but he doesn’t react positively either, “and you’ve been mean all day, Eddie.”

“Like you haven’t?” It’s redundant, but you respond anyways.

“Only because you started it.”

“That’s a weak fucking argument.” Eddie chuckles lowly, raking a hand through the crown of your hair, shoving the lose strands away from your face—you were expecting a gentle touch, but that’s quickly diminished when the hand winds in your hair, pulling snug until you can’t help but react, you whine softly.

“Eddie,” You respond, “that hurts.”

“Then tell me to let go.” He answers.

You shake your head stubbornly, letting his other hand pull you up from under your arm until your forced to stand before him, eyes never lingering away from his own.

“Get in the bathroom,” Eddie urges, shoving you toward the door with little force, knowing you’d go easily, “now.”

Well, maybe you were biting off a little more than you could handle, but everything with Eddie was exhilarating, never a dull moment in between—his face was still plain, not a hint of smile or any sign of anger.

“You’re so easy,” You remark sweetly, calling over your shoulder, "can’t even admit how badly you want it.”

You leave without a word from him, slipping down the quiet and dark hallway, trailer empty aside from the both of you—the bathroom door is already wide open, a tiny cramped room with not nearly enough space. There was only a few seconds of limbo before Eddie was right there, startling you at his ability to remain completely silence as he clicked the door shut behind you. You can only assume why he ordered you in here, face scrunching up in amusement.

“Huh, no—“ You laugh, “you have a perfectly sized bed—fuck, even a couch. We are not—“

“Turn around,” He interrupts, shifting his loose pants further down his waist, tucked under the expanse of his ass—and when you don’t move, he shifts your body for you, “—are you gonna fucking listen or not?”

“Why should I?”

Eddie knew you'd keep this game up as long as you had the energy and power over him—and he could admit it, you were very well capable of doing it, now being a perfect example.

The only solution was fucking it out of you, leaving you as speechless as possible. That's one thing Eddie was capable of.

“You want to act like brat, I’ll treat you like one.” He remarks snidely, pulling at the thin material of your shorts until they drop to your ankles, helping you out of them wordlessly. “Keep talking—it’ll only make it worse.”

Eddie drops to his knees in an instant, lifting you up on your tiptoes as you leaned over the edge of the sink, hands grilling the porcelain tight. His mouth is hot and wet as his tongue licks a broad strip up your cunt, the vulgarity of it sending a jolt of surprise through your body, gasping at the suddenness of it.

Your mouth hung open slightly, sounds dying in your throat as you tried to focus, refusing to give Eddie the upper-hand that he wanted—he’s got you spread wide, his face stuffed up against your cunt as he licks into you, the angle frustratingly pleasurable as his tongue glides over your clit in quick fleeting movements, your hand shooting back to sink into his curls, pulling harshly as you bury him deeper and deeper into the ache that was growing between your legs.

But, Eddie isn’t having it. He grabs the idle hand on the sink and the one buried in his hair and holds them tight, stopping momentarily to dig into the back pocket of his jeans—you know it’s coming and you can’t be bothered to stop it.

“You don’t get to have things your way,” He warns, finding the handkerchief stuffed in his pocket and wrapping it around your wrist, tying it loosely—part of him was hoping you’d play along, not wanting to leave any visible marks. He wanted you to give that power over to him willingly, “not tonight, sweetheart.”

You nod slowly, feigning innocence for the moment.

Eddie stands then, body dragging against yours as he speaks, “You think you can take me like this?” Eddie asks, “I don’t really think you deserve my fingers.”

“So I don’t get your fingers, but I get your dick?” You counter, earning a subtle smirk in return. “That doesn’t seem like a fair trade.”

Eddie snakes an arm around your front, forcing your chin up to look at him in the small mirror, squeezing at your cheeks until your mouth was forced open, “It’s a yes or no question—I don’t need your smartass remark.”

You laugh daringly, “Sorry—can you repeat yourself?”

Eddie doesn’t appreciate that, hand slipping down to your neck to pull back with force, body held tight against his. You couldn’t see in the mirror anymore, only his face as he glared down at you.

“Yes or no?” Eddie asks again, slower and much more menacingly. You breathe harshly against his grip, realizing he wasn’t going to let go until you answered.

“Yes,” You say weakly, “I can take it.”

“Good,” He replies softly, the grip on your neck loosening until you fall forward, his hand stabilized on your shoulder to help keep you upright, “don’t think I can wait much longer anyways.”

And despite Eddie’s vicious approach, he enters you slow, watching your face for any signs of pain—the stretch was welcomed and normal, a breath of relief when he was finally settled into you fully, giving you a moment to adjust.

“Shit,” He curses, “—messing with me all day just to have me fuck you like this?”

He doesn’t need you to answer, doesn’t want it, speaking his thoughts out into the charged air between you.

“Always have so much to say until my cock is inside you,” He can see the twitch in your expression, begging to respond, and he laughs, fingers dragging up along your face as his thumb drags along your bottom lip teasingly, “—you think it’s cute to berate me?”

It’s a double-edged sword, so you don’t respond in any way. But, Eddie doesn’t like that either. He’s squeezing at your face again, hips thrusting slowly in comparison to his rough grip. “So does that mean I get to do the same to you? Treat you like a whore?”

You moan softly at the feeling of his cock twitching inside you, but the word is like a trigger, face turning up in amusement as you laugh.

“Yeah? That’s what you want?” Eddie asks with a condescending tone, earning an eager nod from you. “God, you’re so fucking predictable.”

You shrug slightly, shocked by how quickly he releases your face, dropping suddenly until his hand wraps into your hair, pulling your face back up to stare at him through the reflection and it feels like you’re being transported—looking at a different version of yourself.

He’s barely even done anything and you already look wrecked, embarrassingly so. He leans in closer, breath ghosting over your ear as his eyes make contact with you through the mirror, “And you’re gonna watch while I fuck you. I want you to see how desperate you look.” He says lowly, hips snapping sharply, “Every,” another rough thrust, “fucking,” a harsh tug at your hair, “time.”

You moan out loudly, feeling Eddie bury himself deeper and deeper with each thrust, eyes squeezing closed on instinct, only shooting back open when there’s a sharp slap across your face—it’s quick and doesn’t really sting, but it’s gets your attention. “What did I say?”

“To—to look,” You stammer, an endless soundboard of noises as Eddie didn’t relent, free hand gripping your hip tightly, bringing your ass back against him with every thrust, the loud sound of skin against skin drowning out any other noise in the trailer, “—while you fuck me.”

Eddie nods slowly, eyes dragging down to his dick, the sight nearly enough to make him come then, groaning at how perfectly you gripped him, soft velvet walls like heaven to sink into, again and again.

“And to remember who makes you feel this good,” He reminds, the hand gripping your hip sliding up the front of torso and under your shirt, squeezing gently at your bare tits, the outline of his hands and rings visible through the thin material—the rings were always cold compared to his warm hands and it was never something you got used, gasping at the way they bit at your skin, “say it, baby.”

Your eyes roll back slightly from the sheer pleasure consuming your body, his hips an overwhelming and unfaltering pace as he sunk into you with fervor. You try to say it, but it dies on your tongue, eyes falling shut again as you strained against the hold he had in your hair, begging for relief. Eddie notices, breaking the act for a brief moment to switch his hold, hand caressing your face in a loose grip, just enough to hold you upright to see in the mirror, his gaze still as permeable as ever.

“Say it,” He reminds, rubbing at heat growing in your cheeks, “fuck—say my name.”

“Eddie,” You gasp softly, “it’s you, Eddie.”

Eddie nods proudly, his pace faltering slightly, facade slipping as his jaw clenched tight, breathing sharply through his nose as he tried to hold out.

“Please,” You beg, “please—“

You’re not entirely sure for what.

“Oh—can’t find the words now, huh?” Eddie teases, the hand that’s stuffed under your shirt guiding down until his fingers can drag over the sensitive bundle of nerves, an instant relief when he finally touches you, you sigh sharply, eyes squeezing shut in concentration. “No, eyes open—“ Eddie urges, tapping at your face with his finger lightly, stopping his movements until you did just that.

“Use your manners, baby.” Eddie reminds, “Ask for it.”

“Can I—can I come?” You ask softly, “Eddie, please—“

Eddie laughs quietly, “Apologize.”

If it weren’t for how desperately you wanted to come, you would’ve ripped him a new one and told him off, but you needed this.

“Fuck—I’m sorry.” You force out.

“For?”

Eddie snaps his hips roughly, on the edge of his own undoing, barely able to keep himself together too.

“Being mean,” You gasp out, “and teasing you.”

“And being a complete fucking brat?”

You nod weakly, his fingers gliding over your sensitive clit with an intensity that brings you tipping over the edge quickly, fingers gripping into the trip of Eddie’s shirt from where your hands are still bound behind you, nearly ripping the material at the seam. Eddie pulls out quickly, urging you to turn around. His eyes are pleading, a stark difference from his earlier demeanor as he tugs at his dick swiftly, mumbling a quick, “Can I?”

And you can only assume he’s asking for one thing, quickly undoing the binding as you sank to your knees, hands gripping his thigh for leverage as he gripped your face with his free hand, your tongue slipping out carefully as he rested the achingly red and leaking tip over it, giving you a feeble groan of warning before he’s coming with a visceral, “Fuckfuck—“ and letting the milky white of his orgasm drip out of your mouth slightly, urging it closed with a tap at your chin, watching you swallow without question.

Eddie falls against the wall in exhaustion, watching you do the same as you leaned against the sink, still naked from the waist down. You laughed into the silence, a small giggle that bubbles from your chest.

“Too much?” Eddie asks, bracing for your retort.

You shake your head honestly, “Not enough, in my opinion.”

“God, you’re a masochist—I swear.” Eddie replies with a smile, grabbing at the hand that lingered around his thigh, pulling you against him with practiced ease.

“You just fuck really good when you’re upset,” You admit, open mouth gliding against his, pressing a soft kiss against his lips, “like, really good.”

“Yeah?” Eddie laughs.

You nod confidently, “I’m pissing you off everyday if it results in that—well, maybe without the bathroom next time.”

“I didn’t want to mess up the organization I had going with the campaign stuff.” Eddie defends weakly.

You snort in disbelief, “Organization? You know what—no, I’m not even gonna touch that one.”

You tug at his pants until get he gets the message pulling them over his hips before you’re ushering him out of the bathroom without a word, closing the door behind him.

Eddie stares on in disbelief at the closed door, “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

Unfortunately for Eddie, he’d never know.

[codename-adler]

i neeeeeeeeed to know more abt your trojan ocs anytime you wanna share

heehee i got a special pookie for ya jo �� (trojans ocs roster here)

06: Mateo Solano (22) USC Trojans Goalkeeper

here comes theeeeee... Bitch™

don't got a gif for him sorry

i also now realize i accidently gave him Seth's number... wow. but believe me, Mateo's sm worse. i love mi princesita Seth. i don't even like Mateo. (jk. but like, he sucks a whole lot before he gets his redemption arc. interpret that however you want.)

he's one of the seniors of the team, he's 5'9 and fucking bitter about it, he studies Spanish because he is a lazy mf who has no plan but to go Pro (fortunately he will)

106% fuckboi energy fr he's insufferable

at the start of the new season (when Jean joins) he is still crabby about Laila having rejected him when he asked her out after their loss to the Foxes (in my universe/wip, Lailalvarez are not together yet bc i want to explore their relationship from the beginnings :) )

Mateo isn't really interested in Laila anyway, though, and he doesn't know why 1) it still stings and 2) he even asked in the first place (perhaps because they are the golden goalie duo of USC, perhaps because she is better than him and has broken records, perhaps because of something else...)

he's also such a bitchy asshole to Jean, because Jean is a beast on the court and Mateo is jealous

he's single and a v because he is waiting for marriage and the right girl (siiiiiiiiike!) (still fuckboi aura tho he's that extra)

comes from a very religious household and he is a practicing believer

he doesn't really have any friends on the team (sad) because he is so prickly and bitchy, but everyone is still kind and open to him because he is very reliable on the court, in the goal, and he does not second-guess or question authority, he's very good at following orders and instructions, always aiming for the best

and though it's good for everyone that he stays in goal because of his problematic attitude that would get the Trojans carded if their opponents heard him talk, the power of bitch he possesses is also a great asset, as he easily makes any enemy player lose their temper with his saccharine remarks paired with a Colgate smile

now! the plot twist!

Mateo is what you would get if internalized homophobia + comphet had two legs and an attitude problem

he is as homophobic as Seth and Aaron were, and even more if I dare say, and though he's never outwardly a hater and never uses slurs (at least he holds back on that for Jesus), he's such a bitch about homosexuality... it makes him so angry and queasy, he'll be rude af to you, he'll leave the room fuming, not participate in conversations, that kind of thing. he tries very hard to forget about Jeremy, to overlook it, and he's not like Lucas, questioning Jeremy's decision because of his sexuality, but it's so much better when Jeremy is single... (ik how this sounds, but believe me when i say he does not have a repressed crush on Jeremy, or Jean. that's just his Exy inferiority complex.)

thing is, it becomes incredibly difficult for him to ignore all of that gayness when Laila and Alvarez get together (oh), when Levi suddenly drops Angie to get closer with their assistant coach, when Jeremy clearly has a huge thing for Jean, the Drivers come out with their own gay thang, when Coach Rhemann himself gets his shit together with his long-lost broody ex... Mateo is literally surrounded by homos.

and sure, the wlw stuff never really bothered him, didn't get the appeal (and why do you think Mateo!!!), but with almost all of his authority figures dabbling in the gay, Mateo is kind of a caged animal, and he's bound to lose control and do some very stupid things, like start fights, get benched, punch a wall or 2...

oh, and there's Yanko too.

infuriating ginger man that won't leave him the fuck alone. mountain man of steal who is somehow always right, and chill. the designated Mateo-handler, apparently, because Jeremy had to delegate that hot potato to someone with less... undesirable traits to Mateo (i'm not sure yet how the rest of the team handles his outbursts bc he's not open about why he has them, not very vocal, but there's definitely a specific thing wrong at play here whenever they happen, and maybe Jeremy has an inkling, idk, tbd)

so it really comes out of NOWHERE. nobody, NOBODY has a fucking clue. least of all Mateo. then suddenly Yanko has had enough and pushes Mateo into a wall, and kisses him, very publicly, and Mateo kisses back.

there's a whole lot that goes on behind the scenes before that first fiery PDA, and after that it all goes downhill for a while before balance is found again. anyhoo. enemies-to-lovers ftw ✊

Mateo's family is very loving and supporting of him btw <3

and that's all for now for the resident pendejo of the Trojans, Mateo Solano 👿

[corpsebasil]

Knight Nikolai comes home one day. Lip busted open, black eye, cuts and bruises on his body and reader (maybe a healer?) cleans him up. And there’s tension between the two because duh (btw love how you write knight Nikolai 🫶🏼)

Yes yes YESSS BABY and thank you for the compliment <3

You’re no medic, you really arent. (Sorry anon but even though I’ve been in med school i love clumsy reader)

Sir Nikolai Lantsov, your personal guard and closest friend, winces when you dab at the gash above his brow. He ignores your scowl and glares right back at you, his blue eyes stormy. You huff out your nose and set the rag down, planting your hands on your hips.

“Stop being a baby.”

“You’re hurting me, woman.”

You glare. He glares back. From where you’re standing in between his legs, his body perched on a chair, you’re highly aware of how close he is to you. The man’s a living furnace, for saints’s sakes. He’s keeping you warm by just being near him and you’ve barely started cleaning him up.

Just look at him oh my—

“Stop. Moving.” You instruct him, taking his slightly bruised chin in your hand and forcing his face up. Blue eyes meet yours from a fraction away, his soft breaths touching your cheeks. “You’re so stupid. Why the hell are you out picking fights?”

“Got mad, ‘ts all. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not worried I’m annoyed.” You grumble, pressing a bit harder than necessary against the cut on his cheek. He grits his teeth as his eyes flash to yours, his nostrils flaring in irritation when he sees your slight smirk. “You promised me you’d hang out with me—”

“I always hang out with you—”

“—and then you let Sir Rowan convince you to go out for drinks with your little cadre. Am I not much better company?”

“Easier on the eyes, that’s for sure.” He grunts and you scoff out a laugh.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“It.” You gripe, exasperated as a cheeky grin appears on the man’s face. You shriek when he snaps his teeth at your palm, attempting to nip your skin and, when he’s unsuccessful, a laugh booms out of him that causes his smile to tug on his barely-healed wounds. “Stop it! You’re bleeding again!”

If you took a shot every time you had to berate Nikolai you’d be blasted by now.

“Sorry, love.” He teases, becoming comically still as your hands reframe his face. Blue eyes lock onto yours, long lashes brushing his brow as he watches you, his smile turning into one of faint amusement. “You’re too good to me.”

“I know.” You smile slyly but your fingers linger on his cheeks, observing any forgotten blood and dirt.

Subconsciously you find the pad of your thumbs tracing down his skin; light stubble from a day or two without a shave tickles your fingertips and his breath catches, watching you intently.

“All done, doc?” He asks and that’s when you realize just how close you both are. His nose is practically an inch from yours when you nod. You pull away and he catches your wrists, keeping you in place. “It was for you.”

You stare blankly.

“What was?”

“The fight.” He glances away, pink burning on his bruised face. “Some bloke at the tavern decided it’d be funny to talk shit about my—about you, so.”

You still.

“That’s what this was about?” You snort. “My honor?”

“Don’t laugh.” Nikolai shoots you an annoyed look and stands, forcing you to back up a few paces. “Ask Sir Rowan to defend your honor if you’re so dissatisfied with my help.”

“Nik.” Exasperatedly you watch him cross the room, heading towards the door. “Nik. Stop it.”

“Stop what?” His expression is tense when he meets your stare. “Stop defending you? Stop caring about you?” A step in your direction before he stops, rolling his eyes. “Sure. Tough luck sweetheart but you can’t stop me.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“You love me.”

You pause, heart skipping a beat.

“Yeah, I sort of do.”

SESONSKSS STOPOOOOOOPPPPP ANON

[kxhbee]

I JUST READ YOUR ROWAN FIC AND I'M LITERALLY IN LOVE! I just binge read all three parts in one go lmao. I'm so excited for part 4! But don't work yourself up tho, take your sweet time. I just wanted to appreciate how good your fics are!

OMG THANK YOU YOU’RE SO SWEET!! 🫶🫶

Here’s the long awaited part 4!! I’m so sorry it took so long, I’ve started a new school and I’ve been settling in!!

Love From You

Part Four

~ Rowan Laslow x Reader

~ Friends to lovers

~ Fluff, light angst

~ 1,378 words

~ Not proof read!

Key:

~ Y/N: YOUR NAME

~ Y/L/N: YOUR LAST NAME

~ A/N: AUTHOR’S NOTE

Befriending Rowan Laslow was something you had always wanted to do. Of course, you were always preparing yourself for your friend’s reactions, but mostly Enid’s.

So now that you can actually start a conversation with Rowan instead of saying “never mind” and walking off before he sees you, Enid’s teasing has changed. In other words, you’ve grown more confident, and so has she.

“I bet he would be loud in bed.”

“Enid.” You laugh awkwardly, shocked at the sudden comment. You were sitting in complete silence, finishing your history essay on the origin of trolls, while Enid was scrolling through Instagram, having finished her essay a week before because she surprisingly has better time management than you. “You can’t say that.”

“Why? Everyone knows that nerdy men are louder in bed.” Her eyes widen like she’s just come to a sudden realisation. “AND HE HAS ASTHMA!”

You look around the library nervously. Rowan usually comes in here to hang out, and you mostly look forward to it. Except right now you’re praying he decides to do something else instead.

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Just getting you prepared, my good sire.” She pats you on the back. “Everyone’s noticed you two get closer.”

“We’re friends.” You must’ve said this about a hundred times since the day you befriended Rowan. It’s getting kind of tiring, because Enid knows as well as you that you want to make it more than that.

”Whatever you say. You know, he’s definitely a bottom. That’s something to add to your night scenarios.”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Yet you continue to hang out with me.”

”What about Wednesday then, huh?”

Enid stops laughing and looks down awkwardly, fighting the pink off from her cheeks. “What about her?”

“Oh come on, E. I’m not blind. We’re not blind.”

“We?”

“Yes! Everyone! Just kiss her already, jesus.”

“I will when you kiss Rowan.” She says, elbowing you lightly.

You roll your eyes playfully, pulling your phone out when you hear a ding.

“Um no, finish your essay.” Enid really is staying true to her word about making you finish today.

“I will, I will. Just let me respond to Yoko first.”

After responding to a TikTok that Yoko sent to you, you exit out of the chat. Before you close the app, however, you notice a change in Rowan’s profile picture. You tap on his profile to see the picture better, and see that instead of the automatic icon that Instagram sets, it’s a photo of him smiling happily at the camera, someone’s arm around him holding the peace sign. Your heart warms with recognition at the photo you took with him.

“What’s made you so happy?” Enid looks over your shoulder at his profile.

“Nothing.” You turn your phone off and put it back into your pocket.

“‘We’re just friends.’” She says, putting on yet another impression of you and nudging your side again.

“Shhh. I have an essay to write.” You say, picking up your pen again.

“That’s convenient for you, isn’t it.”

———————————————————————

Rowan Laslow never ended up answering Xavier Thorpe’s question. He knows that refusing to answer won’t help him form a friendship with the boy, but how was he supposed to describe what happened? How is he meant to put into words the warm feeling he gets in his chest whenever he sees Y/N, and how the feeling grows and completely takes over his body whenever their face lights up with a smile? How is he meant to tell his roommate how confused he gets after he catches himself grinning at photos or messages from them? How does he confide in someone that he’s spoken to on only a few occasions, despite him being his roommate?

Rowan can tell that Xavier got frustrated at his lack of response. He simply gaped at Xavier, unable to describe what was on his mind. He stuttered a few false starts, not sure how to start the sentence, and then settled on “it was nothing” and grabbed his pyjamas from his bed, locking himself in the bathroom.

He assumed it was because he didn’t know how to react after making his first friend in years- he didn’t remember how having friends felt. After all, he was always cautious of his peers. He knew what they they saying he could hear them- with their whispering and muttering of words like “freak”, “outcast”, “weirdo” or something similar. What he never understood was why. Why are they calling him a freak when this is a school for freaks. Why are they calling him an outcast when they’re all outcasts?

It never made any sense to him, which is why he never let it get to him. Why should he be upset over something that simply doesn’t make sense? Despite this view on the bullies, he obviously let it get to him. Why else would he have a breakdown in the arms of someone he just met? Although its been a while, he’s pretty sure thats not how friends are made.

Yet it somehow worked. Rowan and Y/N had surprisingly become inseparable. Y/N, who, since they’re best friends with Enid, is by default, popular, and Rowan, the outcast. It’s an odd pair, and Rowan is always worried that Y/N is going to receive shit for befriending him. But if they have they haven’t let him know.

The door to the dorm opens and Xavier comes in, joined by Ajax Petropolus. The two boys stop laughing when they see Rowan sitting at his desk, staring at them. He turns his head back to his books and picks his pen up. Not the time.

“Listen, Rowan…” Ajax starts talking, taking a step towards Rowan. “I’m sorry about you being kicked out of the Nightshades. I really-“

Rowan didn’t hear the rest of what Ajax had to say. Instead, he put his headphones on, gathered his books, and left the dorm, remembering why he usually studies in the library.

The Nightshades’ voting system is a democracy with anonymous voting, so Rowan will never truely know if Ajax or Xavier voted him out or not. But people in the Nightshades voted him out and that’s all that matters to him. The one place where he felt as if he belonged. He was following in his mother’s footsteps in that stupid club. The one remaining tie he had to his mother’s legacy was severed by a bunch of cliché high school students who think they rule the place and didn’t want someone in the club just because he’s a little different.

It’s safe to say that Rowan Laslow doesn’t like any of the Nightshade members anymore.

__________________________________________

“Enid, shut up.”

“Why? Worried your boyfriend might hear?”

“I’m worried anyone is gonna hear. Normal people don’t make these kinds of jokes.”

“Normal? You don’t think I’m normal? It’s because I’m a lesbian isn’t it?”

“Kill yourself.” You say jokingly, nudging Enid’s side.

“Wow. I never thought you’d be homophobic. You’re cancelled on Twitter now.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You zip your bag up and swing it onto your back, hanging off of your right shoulder. You finished your essay about an hour ago, so you and Enid spent the last hour sitting in silence while scrolling TikTok.

“Phones gonna die.” You say, putting it on low power mode. “It’s on 5 percent.”

“You would have more battery if you did your essay straight away instead of procrastinating on your phone.” Enid giggles like she’s the funniest person ever.

You pull the library door open and hold it open for Enid.

“Ladies first.” You say, gesturing her out.

“Rowan is trans?” Enid asks.

“Would it kill you to not bring him up in every breath? It’s getting old.” You look back up at her, but she’s staring through the doorway. You follow her gaze and your eyes land on Rowan Laslow, who’s standing in the doorway holding a pile of books awkwardly.

“Oh. Hey.”

“Hey.”

[rodolfoparras]

I'm back to say and check in 🫶🏻

I've been so busy with work and play (we have rehearsals daily) that I just didn't have energy to write anything. First of all, AMAZING NEWS! You know that exam I kept complaining about? The same subject because of which I had to repeat a year two times?? I FINALLY PASSED IT!!! I can hardly believe it ngl but I'm overjoyed!

Also I'm getting a two weeks off after this week which I definitely didn't expect because I just started working but lord do I desperately need that vacation. In worse news, my father (who is currently here again) told me that when he comes home in August, he'll be here for a whole month somehow and I'm already dreading it. I honestly don't know how I'll survive it :((

But other than that, I've been pretty well and I think being in a play really reinvigorated my spirit! How are you? How is your hobby going?

-🔮

Hello sugar!!!! I’m glad to hear from you!! It sounds like you’ve been busy but at least your days have been packed with fun stuff I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself love!! YOU PASSED IT? HELLO CONGRATS SUGAR!!!! I’m so glad you finally got it done and over with 😭 I know what it’s like having old exams hanging after you especially if ifs been years 😭

But that so sweet of your boss!! What are you planning to do on your break? Any shows you’re going to watch? Are you planing to go somewhere?

Also I’m sorry to hear that sugar a month is an awful long time when the person is insufferable but luckily you’ve been a busy bee so hopefully you’ll only see/ hear him very briefly during those 30 days!!

Genuinely so happy for you sugar you deserve to feel good! Also I’ve been well love I’ve been working on my clay piece and it’s not done yet but it’s going well I’m almost done with the sculpting part and it’s time to think of some designs!! The piece is inspired by the song good luck babe specifically the line when you wake up next to him in the middle of the night with your head in your hands you’re nothing more than his wife so since i can’t do ppl I did a lighter laying on a pillow and it’s supposed to be the woman in the song , and the hollowed out cigarette doesn’t really fit an actual cigarette and it’s supposed to represent the husband who isn’t the one for her : doesn’t fit her it’s a lot of fun to make it but I’m also a perfectionist and keep poking at it also this is an old pic so the sculpture is rough but I promise it’s much better now!