#and therefore of course also in real life

[drdemonprince]

CW: suicide, commitment, psychosis

My sibling is someone who unequivocally says being committed saved their life and was not inherently traumatic outside of the extremely traumatic mental health crisis that led to it. (However, our local psych ER/psych inpatient is probably one of the better ones and does not use any kind of restraints or force medication. They seem to have an okay track record explaining what the pills are and asking if the person can try them, which I get can still be coercive in some cases, but worked well with my sibling. Also, I was visiting them as much as I could every day, which they found really helpful, and I could keep my eye out for any issues.)

My sibling (~30) had a severe psychotic episode that doesn't quite fit any current DSM diagnosis. They went 0 to 100 from no suicidal ideation to actively attempting suicide in front of me due to delusions about being hunted by supernatural entities who would torture them. They finally could not sleep for days, and therefore I could not go to sleep because they'd try to kill themself. They were not dangerous to me intentionally, but one or both of us could have been hurt by me trying to take a weapon from them. They could not think at all outside of panic and delusions and had no short term memory, so they describe themself as having been incapable of understanding their condition. They weren't able to engage with any social interventions, because how would you have the time or bandwidth if you were living in terror of demons about to torture you and couldn't remember conversations from an hour ago?

They went to the hospital voluntarily after being stopped from attempting, but then they were committed because of aforementioned memory issues when they shortly informed the doctors they had to leave and kill themself. In a moment of lucidity, they were glad to be there, but they just couldn't stay lucid from moment to moment. Trying to get outpatient help in the weeks all this was escalating had been fruitless, with a lot of dismissive assholes, but these particular inpatient docs actually cared and asked how they were doing and figured out a dose of antipsychotics that made it all just... stop like a switch had been flipped.

Once they weren't operating under the terrifying delusions, they 100% did not want to die and were so relieved I stopped them and got help from others when it was becoming too dangerous to us both for me to intervene alone. I get that this kind of crisis is really different from living with chronic suicidal ideation or depression, which is something I personally deal with on a low level, but it was a genuine, terrifying situation where someone's expressed wishes were the opposite of what they wanted when they could understand their situation more fully.

I am allowed to share this, but if this is somehow not on anon, please delete it. Stigma about psychosis is REAL.

Yo this is super helpful, thank you for sharing. One of the trickier aspects of upholding disabled people's autonomy and taking a harm reductionist approach to suicide and self-harm is the fact that people in a state of psychosis may temporarily want something they would otherwise never want.

Though with some experience working through it with a caring and informed support network, it is possible to stand in for the person's stated desires and help them get through the period of lacking lucidity -- and of course psychosis can become a lot less destabilizing with time. i know someone who relies on a close friend to help ground them when they're having delusions and hallucinations -- a quick phone call is now enough to convince them they don't need to kill themselves, but that's after years of getting used to having psychotic states.

glad you and your sibling found solutions and made it through this okay.

[ghost-roads]

i hate watching queer eye because my space is just as filthy and messy as some of the people on there, because i got mentol ewlness innit + i can't afford a big house/flat with loads of storage to keep things organised. so my clothes are on the floor, my dishes pile up for weeks or months, i don't clean the floors etc. and i can guarantee that watching 5 grown ass millionaires go through my stuff and gag at my mess and make fun of my sense of style or the knick knacks i keep etc would like. definitely not help. it would make me worse. i feel horrible just watching them do that to someone else. messy spaces/hoarding/etc should not be met with ridicule, even just in passing (i know they don't dwell on that and it's just a jokey joke at the start of the episode before they move on to actually trying to help or whatever but it's still there). like that's just mean idk

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

sometimes I wonder why I don't spend more time checking out AtlA content and then I go in the tags and I suddenly remember the discourse abominations that are ripping each other to pieces there

[aroceu]

honestly shout out to girls who have no actual depiction of them in most (if any) form of media. girls who can't see themselves physically represented by any fictional characters; girls who can't relate with the largely tropey writing of any female character that exists. womanhood--and frankly, general personhood--is not restricted to how it is depicted in fiction or on screen. your identity as a person and as a woman is not tied to what other people think women should be like; it is tied into your acceptance and love of yourself.

[elodieunderglass]

Horror isekai where Perceiving the Weird Eldritch Thing gets you catapulted into a nightmare labyrinth of puzzle-solving.

I.e Those Who Perceive The Hunt of the Goblin King Must Partake In The Labyrinth and Can Only Be Freed If They Complete It In One Day and One Night. By Fae Law. For Reasons.

But the definition of “perception” clearly needs to be updated because some normal guy simply films the Hunt of the Goblin King Behind Arby’s, and puts it on Facebook -

No, not instagram or TikTok, it’s important that it be Facebook -

Because the rules are pretty clear, “the rules are the rules” as is carved ominously in elvish runes above the grim gate, and the Contract is Sealed. and so therefore the guy and 25 of their most random real-life acquaintances must run the gauntlet together. It’s Some Guy, their immediate neighbors, their first partner’s mom, their friends from hobby Facebook groups (oh this poor guy and their hobbies; the elderly birdwatchers from Facebook and the young up-and-coming drag king community), their random teen kid niece, college friends, a dog who also watched the video, a couple consisting of a woman who is the guy’s Facebook friend and showed her husband the video, and the husband doesn’t even know Some Guy, so he’s in the labyrinth and absolutely furious about being forced to be involved, and they proceed to break up over the course of the puzzle.

It’s important that the narrative keeps trying to be a sexy dark horror isekai! but within this the comedic reality of Catherine, 52, the guy’s horse-riding instructor, being passionately involved in escape-room-style puzzle solving and grappling with minor goblins. They are in fact speedrunning the gauntlet.

The Goblin King finally has to say: all right, actually, I only really set all this up to fuck with one (1) guy at a time, thanks for your willingness to participate, but I think all 25 of you can consider the gauntlet fully run.

And the group would be quite hurt by that. The rules are the rules. We have a contract, actually. Let Catherine cook.

[long-live-astronerd-ghost-king]

DPXDC prompt: Spiritual Siblings

Bruce: My assassin kid can't be that normal!

Damian: Well, I’m completely emotionally stable by Amity Park standards. The problem is with you. Obviously.

~~~~~

Damian had long found peace and home in Amity, so he did not worry that the new family and Gotham might not accept him.

Sure, Al Ghul had lived without any contact with his biological father all these years but he could safely say that he had a happy childhood. First years were hard and he was raised more as a weapon than a human being. Even so, after that a ghost who decided to become his brother appeared and everything changed.

Damian still does not know what Ra's owes Phantom but Danny has a right to take him, without prior notification, to live with Fentons, to visit Aunt Alicia at her farm, and to make Vlad’s weekends much less calm and boring. Danny jokes that he just steals him as a hostage when Al Ghul does not pay taxes for using Lazarus Pits. Whatever the reason, he already has a family that loves him.

However, he still wanted to make an effort to fit in this one too. The model of conduct certainly was his older brother. No, not the oldest, of course. To be honest Dan wasn’t the kind of a man that could charm you from the first minute. But Danny, in Damian’s experience, had a calming effect on people. So he tried to act like him.

And, yeah, for lack of experience, he was more fun!Danny at home and super!Danny on patrol but he also really tried not to get any of his own assassin personality in his new-self and was tired of it. He couldn’t get a 100% match. Fine. Still doesn’t look like anyone in this house really likes him, so whatever.

Damian understood why Bruce didn't like his company. Jazz had long ago explained to him the importance of voluntary consent. His mother did a terrible thing. Al Ghul was not a child and therefore he was ready to admit it. However, he also understood that children were not responsible for the actions of their parents.

As a biosocial being, he wanted to be more than just a painful reminder of what had happened to Bruce. Wayne's ignoring of his existence was rude. But Damian wouldn't force this man to spend time with him just because he was legally obligated to take care of his well-being. He wasn't going to prove anything to Batman, and he definitely didn't need his attention. The care of his real family is enough.

But Damian really tried to get along with new potential siblings. He even shared Sam's and Danny’s special jokes with some of adopted kids 'cause he didn’t want them to feel like he put himself above them. He wasn't good at showing emotions but he was as open as the assassin could afford to be to strangers.

But they all obviously expected something from him. And it reminded him of the League in an unpleasant way. It was easier with Fentons. Almost everyone in Amity Park was saying what they thought, and Damian didn’t have to waste time decoding potential conspiracies.

Damian missed movie marathon nights with Sam, Tucker, and Danny. And he hoped Dani had time to bother Vlad in his absence.

It was so weird here. When Danny and Valerie were fighting, they would gather at the dinner table anyway. When Damian wanted to have combat training with Drake here, he was forced to stay in his room. A very strange punishment. And undeserved one too.

Al Ghul felt quite calm and fine sitting at his easel and painting the people he left behind. An unusual subject for his paintings. But, Ancients, he missed Amity.

He missed Jack's bone breaking hugs, Maddie's Ecto-Contaminated food, arguments of Sam and Tucker, cozy art class with Mr. Baxter and even Vlad's done look. He missed Danny telling him about the stars. He also missed sword practice with Dan's boyfriend Fright Knight and he missed Dan's stories about his other youth. He missed literary evenings with Mr. Lancer, Clockwork and Ghost Writer. He even missed the hours-long Jazz lectures. He missed the dance of death and life. He missed being looked at without expecting anything from him. He missed the crowd. In the league, he was never at one with himself and in Amity he was always surrounded by people who were not afraid of his fate as the heir to the said League. This Manor was full of people, but for the first time in his life he felt lonely. Damian has to admit that he felt left behind. Of course, he understood that people needed time to build relationships, but he could have sworn that even he didn't need that much time to connect with Fentons. Maybe this is one of the tricks of the Clockwork? Then this one is not funny at all.

~~~~~Phone call~~~~ Damian: Mom, I want to go home. Maddie: I'm so sorry to hear that, sweetheart. What happened? Damian: Just…Nobody likes me. Why was I sent here? I'm not weak. And my brothers are quite capable of protecting me from Raas. I don't need Batman for this. Maddie: We'll figure it out, champ. Moms love you, remember? I'll talk to Talia, okay? Your brothers and sisters are already on edge and ready to steal you right during the patrol. Damian: It would be nice, but it would put a bat on their tails. So lock them in thermoses if they bother you too much. Maddie: But that won't stop Jazz. Damian: I missed the part where that's my problem. Maddie: Well, it will be your problem if she comes to your doorstep with your childhood photos and moralizing.

~~~~~~~~

It's his birthday. And he was always excited about it. But now, looking at the pile of gifts, he realizes that these people don't know him at all.

And this is the family of the best detective in the world? Maybe yes, but none of them bothered to really find info about him or ask him about his likes. Damian's a stranger here, and that's obvious.

The lunch container, which he will obviously give to the Boxing Lunch when he's in the right time interval, tennis rackets that Youngblood might like, The Graveyard Book…

Valerie had already read it to him and Dani before it was published. Thanks to Clockwork for his little miracles. The book reminded him of home.

Obviously this one is from Jason. And well, Damian doesn't think it was a pun on his life in Amity, more like Hood's inside joke about death but Dami will definitely leave this thing in the room at the Manor and maybe take it with him to the GZ or Amity Park.

~~~~~~~

When they gather at the festive table, Damian realizes that he has to make some kind of speech. He tries to be as brief as possible in his report.

Damian: Todd, your gift is appreciated. And I found a potential use for items that were given by others, Bruce.

Damian never called Batman his father. With Maddie and Talia, calling both moms wasn't weird, especially when Jazz explained to his biological mom that he wasn't trying to replace her. But with Wayne, it was different. Both women took care of him, they deserved this title. Wayne provided for his needs, but his core heart didn't feel like they were close. Surely there's nothing wrong if they're just Bruce and Damian? Obviously, they both don't enjoy each other's company.

Jason: So, do you like books, little demon? Damian: Sometimes reading is quite relaxing, I should point out. I'm not indifferent to Stephen King and Lovecraft. Jason: Personal recommendations? Damian: Cujo is one of my favorites. Jason: Not a common opinion, huh. Damian: It reminds me of my family. Damian tries to smile like Danny does, but Jason's twitching eye clearly indicates that he screwed it up.

~~~~Dick and Jason synchronously drop their forks as an excuse for a conference under the table.~~~~ Dick*whispers*: How's the situation? Jason*whispers back*: If the boy asks for a dog, don't be fooled. He will be happy to dance on our graves.

~~~~Cass knocks over their heads, urging them to return to their seats.~~~~

Damian: So how good you are at fading and sliding,Todd? Jason: Why did you ask? I can't, of course. Damian: Because you're dead. It seemed to me that this was a completely understandable interest. Jason: Wow, what a jerk. Damian: I wonder why your own incompetence makes me a jerk? Even my sister could do this when she wasn't dead for even a month.

Jason, for some reason, looks awkward, although he has never been embarrassed before by the idea that a girl could be stronger than him.

Jason: Your sister? How old was she when... So it's all about age. Damian rolls his eyes.

Damian: We're the same age. It seems like it was four or five years ago. To be honest, I don't remember. I wasn't around then. I'll ask Danielle the next time I go to the cemetery to visit her. Dick: I'm so sorry, Dami. Where is she buried? We can take you. Damian: There's no need. She has no grave, as there was nothing to bury. Bruce sighs loudly and covers his eyes with his hands. Damian: It's just easier to contact the afterlife in places like this, you now? Duke: We are very sorry, dude. Damian: Don't be. People come and go, and then come back if they haven't finished annoying you. There's no point in regretting the past. Her creation was not the most ethical thing but everything is going as it should. At least that's what Grandpa says. Considering that the old man is older than time, I prefer to believe him. No one plays with fate without his permission unless they want to get hit by the clock. Tim now looks like he's going to throw up and Damian hurries to move his plate closer to him. Jason: Yes, Bruce, this is definitely your son. Damian: Did I say something wrong? Dick smiles faintly at him but still doesn't find anything to say. Damian shrugs and goes back to eating asparagus. People outside of Amity are so weird.

Signal looks at Damian suspiciously as he carefully rearranges the plate of soy sausages away from himself. Did he take him for an idiot? Everyone knows that even vegetarian sausage bite and fight no worse than those with meat when they come back to life. It's not Damian's fault that he doesn't have an ectoblast with him and wants to have extra distance from the opponent.

~~~At the same time, in the walls of Wayne Manor~~~ Dani: The operation codenamed "Get Haunted Idiot" is declared open. Danny and Dan *salute*.

~~~Several Days Later~~~

Damian: So, this is Dan. Danny says we keep him as a GIW repeller. Dick: And Danny and Dan are.. Jazz: His brothers. I'm Jazz by the way. Elle and I are his sisters. Damian: I feat the criteria to participate in their name cult, so they took me. Dan, Danny, Dani and Dami. Dan *ruffles Damian's hair* : I prefer to call this biting threat Damn, to be honest. Dami: Shut up, DaNtE, they almost wrote Dark in your passport, you idiot. I can't believe I thought I missed you. Danny: Wow. Rude. Your grandpa would be disappointed. Great job, lil one.

~~~Several years later~~~

[risestarkiss]

Being Baby Blue

Rise Ramblings #313

Leonardo Hamato is…an interesting individual.

As a middle child, he doesn’t have to shoulder the responsibilities of the oldest, nor is he fawned upon or babied over like the youngest. Therefore, he ends up having more of a lackadaisical approach to life.

In his free time, instead of training like Raph, Leo can normally be found reading comic books.

And for good reason! Someone has to be up on the latest issues of Jupiter Jim and his space odysseys.

But, other than being a Jupiter Jim superfan, who is Leonardo Hamato?

If you ask Leo, he's...*takes out a list*: “Primetime,” “First,” “The Best,” “Number One,” “The Champion,” or some other iteration of all of the above.

...Huh. Anyways...

Of course, the first thing Leo would tell you is that he's the team's "Face Man."

As the "Face Man," he’s the one that turns up the charm when they need to schmooze their way out of, or into, something.

He's the face of the group! It's a very important title, right?

Well, in this scene with Hueso, we learn what Leo really feels about his place on the team.

"There's no team with just a face man." "I'm nothing without them."

Hmm. If he thinks that he is nothing without his brothers, then what's the deal with all of this "Number One" and "Champion" talk?

I believe that Leo is exhibiting a form of Reaction Formation.

Reaction Formation is a primitive defense mechanism that involves transforming one's unacceptable feelings or emotions into the opposite.

"Solicitude may be a reaction-formation against cruelty...romantic notions of chastity and purity may mask crude sexual desires, altruism may hide selfishness, and piety may conceal sinfulness."

Leo has been creating these grandiose titles and this larger-than-life persona for himself as a means to cope with his feelings of insecurity, his anxieties, and combat his self-deprecation.

Gee, forming a larger-than-life persona to counteract their suppressed feelings also reminds me of someone else we know…

But, I digress...

Behind the fabrications, his insecurities, who he pretends to be, and who he wants to be, the real Leo is still on display, starting as early as the first episode.

He's attentive, he understands the team's strengths and weaknesses, he assesses situations, he comes up with great plans on the fly, and he is a voice of reason.

These are all the characteristics of a great leader.

However, something happens when he’s actually appointed as such.

There he goes again. He's cocky, arrogant, and act's as if he's unphased even by the prospect of loosing his brothers. If this is Reaction Formation, then what is he trying to mask with these behaviors?

Previously, he was masking his insecurities, his anxieties, and his self-deprecation, but with the faces he pulls when he thinks no one can see them, I want to say the newest emotion is fear.

He is terrified of being the leader and floundering under his new responsibilities. He's scared of the consequences of his actions, and what those consequences may mean for his brothers. However, instead of voicing his insecurities, or communicating with his team, he doubles down and falls back into old habits.

The "Face Man" persona is turned up to an 11, and things get worse and worse until...

His greatest fears have been realized.

He has failed as a leader. He has failed his brothers. He has failed to stop the invasion, and they are all going to die because of his failures.

Now he's faced with the harsh reality of his own mistakes, thus he finally faces himself.

"It's scary to be responsible for the lives you protect, your team...your family. But we do it anyway because that's what it means to be a hero."

He may be speaking to Raph, but he's talking about himself.

His words are his true feelings, the same feelings that have been holding him back this entire time. By opening up, he's able to surrender to himself and let it all go.

And it's the breakthrough we all have been waiting for.

What Leo doesn't know is that through letting go, he's able to become the true face of the group he is destined to be.

He's the face of hope.

○○○○

Previous | Being Big Red

Next | Being Purple ○ Part One • Being Purple ○ Part Two • Orange, Baby!

Finale | Being Hamato Yoshi

[ew-selfish-art]

DP x DC AU: Bruce is the one to invite Constantine over, and no, it's not to improve his tenuous working relationship with the asshole. It's the opposite of that.

---

Danny had become a frequent visitor of Wayne Manor in the last few months, and Bruce had to admit that while the kid was certainly a bit ominous for his liking for a partner to Tim, he was a generally kind and happy soul. They'd been dating for a lot longer than the Bats knew of- Kon had been the one to let it slip to Jon who told Damian and so on- and since the relationship was no longer secret, Tim brings him to family functions.

The thing about Danny is... He's dead. More than half of the time. Which again, is not Ideal for Bruce's wishes for Tim's future husband, but it also means that he reviles in being alive. Danny is downright joyous about using his time left on earth properly. He makes Tim eat real food, enjoy real sleep and generally live a more fulfilled life than he had been. The whole family noticed the changes in Tim, and it made them like Danny even more.

So after a particularly grueling day of dealing with Trigon and therefore the JLD's lack of coordination and sensible planning- Bruce gets the idea. John couldn't fucking contain himself admonishing Bruce, and perhaps it was vindictive, but Bruce figures that John should meet Danny. Sans context of course.

...

John is really over dealing with Batman's prissy, over complicated and perfectionist attitude. Come to the Cave he'd demanded, as though John didn't have a favorite bar to get back to, deal with a ghost he ordered like John didn't have other priorities than some random shade.

When walking into the space however, the second his teleportation portal closed, John knew something was deeply, deeply fucked. The shadows were growing longer, the second hand on his watch ticked slower, the air smelled of sulfur and... Red Robin was sitting working at the computer like nothing was wrong. But what was wrong, was the kid was marked by The End. Marked by The Infinite. FUCK.

John knew Death, the Endless, and knew she could pick favorites just like her siblings (Dream's immortal drinking buddy comes to mind). But this wasn't her work, this was something other.

"Mate- the Bat said there was a ghost?" John feels like he might throw up, the eerie atmosphere complicating what should have been a simple request.

"Uh, obviously." The kid didn't even look over from his screen or pause his typing.

John slowly approached, looking over each shoulder a few times, turning in a few circles as the shadows appeared to dance and echo within the cave. He could see his breath, the air became so cold so suddenly. And then, with the gentleness of a pin drop, a new agonizing sound appeared with a Kid walking down the cave stairs. The aura of the room turned dark, every cell in John's body screaming to run, that this was basically the little girl from the ring crawling through the TV as the young man walked down the steps.

"Babe, your grampa says that dinners going to be ready in a second. Oh, uh, hey dude." The creature speaks, turning his eyes to John for only a moment to study him. It feels equivalent to a butterfly being pinned by its wings.

"Y-y-you, you're, you're one of the Endless?" John stutters, his body reacting in fear despite the nonchalant posture of the Beast. The young man rolls his eyes.

"Nah, one of the Ancients but like uh, I'm new in town. And hon seriously don't be late, A made tiramisu for dessert and you're not allowed to have any if you're late and I don't want to deal with you pouting."

"You had me at Tiramisu!" Red stands up from his computer and then turns, "John, what are you doing here again?" Red Robin finally looks over at him, completely confused.

"Just leaving." John mutters, his eyes still trained on the ANCIENT.

---

Bruce could barely hide his laugh when Tim reported the Magician meeting Danny in the cave.

That'll show the asshole to question Batman's knowledge of the occult.

[maryrouille]

Toxic romanticization of studying

In a word of introduction, my profile partly shows that studying and exploring is wonderful. But as a person involved in science*, I would like to show healthy and true patterns of this beautiful adventure in acquiring knowledge.

The inspiration for writing this post this time was not the phenomenon from Tumblr (although you can also observe it here), but from Pinterest. There you can come across cycles composed of quotes and photos whose aim is to motivate young girls to learn, succeed and get good grades. These images often also show examples of characters from movies, TV series or real life that you can aspire to be like. Overall, I have to agree that it really works! But I would like to draw attention to certain elements that need to be verified.

1. You shouldn't get up at 5am

First of all, the correct amount of sleep is one of the most important factors affecting the proper and effective functioning of our brain. During sleep, nerve cells regenerate, organize information acquired during the day and consolidate memory traces, which is directly related to learning. Lack of sleep increases impulsivity, deepens negative thinking and slows down the body's reaction time!

2. You can be a genius without good grades

Of course, good grades are a pleasant confirmation of our knowledge and praise for hard work. However, sometimes it is worth considering whether the structure of exams themselves, especially those with closed questions, affects the results. We often study for one specific exam, the knowledge of which may be very… limited and sometimes not useful, so it is worth prioritizing the topics that we study hard.

3. It's not cool to think you're better than others

We are different and have different priorities in life. It is also worth considering how many people escape from the rat race and start a slow, stress-free life. So we have to agree that judging people based on grades or responses under stress (sic!) is not cool.

The good thing about romanticizing studying

As I have already said, these types of collages are really motivating. So let's talk about what's great about them and what's worth highlighting and saving for later.

1. Knowledge is beautiful, but your outfit and surroundings can also be

We know that we should never judge a book by its cover, but… the issue of social perception painfully confirms that we do and will continue to do so because this is how our brains work. And isn't it nice when someone looks at us and thinks this girl is so classy?

Moreover, a nice outfit that makes us feel good gives us a lot of self-confidence. There are also many studies confirming the positive impact on motivation and concentration of a neat and aesthetic workplace.

2. Not just cramming, but also discovering

Broadening your horizons is easier with passion and real commitment. And to achieve this, the topics must really interest us. Not everyone has yet found something that they are extremely passionate about in science, so that is why you have to dig deeper and discover different areas.

3. Don't be afraid to use your knowledge in practice

Schools and universities, unfortunately, have their own rules and they do not always allow you to show your 100% potential. Thus, share your knowledge with others externally, write essays, blog and social media. This form of activity also makes you learn things faster and easier. In addition, contacts with others will expand your knowledge.

Therefore, I must say that it is worth choosing your inspirations carefully. Nothing helps you enjoy studying better than a clear head and lack of prejudices.

*This post was inspired by my own experience with studying. If anyone is interested, I think I can share my mistakes that did not help me in an academic adventure :)

[birkemakesart]

Highschool Meshi - the beginning - part 2 (final)

And it’s a wrap.

I thought about them cooking bugs, bc that would probably be the real life equivalent of grossness to eating monster. But I couldn’t find any real reason why they would cook them.

Like for the dungeon and monsters it makes perfect sense. But schools aren’t really a environment where lots of bugs live and they don’t really have an incentive to resort to eating them. So I went with the bento idea instead. Also it’s way cuter.

Laios would make gross monster themed bentos tho. Like with evil spider motives or Godzilla, Yugioh or smth.

Marcille would either find the bentos too cute or the ones from Laios too gross to eat. But of course they taste good when she eats them.

Bevor the others joined Senshi, he would not be allowed to use the kitchen so he will sneak in sometimes to cook. (Thanks for the idea @flaralump )But he also has a camping stove and some cooking supplies in his bag. After the others join they will form a cooking club and therefore gain access to the kitchen.

Since Senshi and Chillchuck are in the same year he thinks Chillchuck must be a gifted child, bc he obviously must have skipped some years since he is still so young. lol

Another head canon is that Senshi often talks like an old men. Like he will say ye are so young ye gotta eat. And everyone is like: ???

Anyway hope you enjoy the comic. Bye ✌️

[lovelybluebirdie]

Blood whispers

Astarion x gn!Reader 

Summary: On the night you almost killed him, Astarion promised to help you overcome your urges. When they suddenly threaten to overwhelm you again, he needs to take care of you.

Word Count: 2,8k

no warnings, hurt/comfort, fluff

AO3

Travelling across the shadow-cursed lands had provided Astarion some valuable knowledge. Not only had he learned the meanings of the scars on his back, it was also revealed that the scheme behind the tadpole in his brain was far greater than he had initially anticipated.

These discoveries alone should have been enough to keep him adequately occupied, yet there had been another novelty: for the first time in his life he had developed genuine affection for someone. Namely for you, the softhearted adventurer with an undeniable saviour-complex. You had filled his chest with an unfamiliar warmth and therefore led him to great confusion - at least until his constant brooding had left the inevitable conclusion that you meant far more to him than a solely guarantee for his safety.

His plan with you had been calculated to serve his own needs. He needed protection, so he had aimed to lure you into a selfish alliance by gaining your trust and using his charm to get you on his side. 

As it turned out, this simple little plan of his had fallen apart rather quickly: not only had he come to truly care about you, he had also openly admitted these feelings to you. To his surprise, you had shared that you felt the same.

Even though Astarion wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing with you half the time or where all of this was leading - being with you was astonishingly nice. 

From the moment Astarion had told you about his failed plan, you had decided to be with each other without sleeping together. For the past centuries, sex had been merely a tool for him to collect victims for his former master, so it still brought up feelings of loath and disgust. 

With you, he experienced that there was more to intimacy than sex.

At first, the thought of forming a sincere connection had terrified him. What was he to do with you, and how could he be close to you in a real way - in a way that mattered?

But somehow, you made it easy for him. 

You had been considerate not to overwhelm him with your affection. It had been small steps: a single grasp for his hand, some soft kisses in the safety of your blanket or a heartfelt embrace in between all the fights and mischief that paved the way along your journey to free yourself from the tadpoles.

Sometimes you would read to him, his head resting comfortably in your lap, while your fingers formed circles through his curls. He adored the feeling of your body close against his back, leaving the sensation of your warm hands on his chest the last thing he would remember before he would fall into his nightly trance. 

You made him feel safe, and he found himself positively enjoying your time together.

Of course there had also been that other night. 

That night, when the fear over losing you to your darkness had scared Astarion more than any torture his former master could have ever inflicted on him.

You had woken him with a vigorous shake, eyes wide open and sheer panic in your voice. “We don’t have much time,” you would say, almost swallowing your tongue. “I’m going to kill the person I care about most – and it is you.”

Flattery aside, the threat of being murdered by his lover posed a fairly unpleasant way to be brought from his rest, so Astarion was forced to act fast. 

You had spent the night with your wrists tied up while he watched over you, ensuring that you faced no harm. On the next morning you were yourself again, but the whole ordeal had left its mark on both of you.

And that was another thing about you: despite being the kindest person Astarion had ever met, you were also the only one that was cursed to unwillingly bring a great deal of murder and despair into this world. 

Those violent urges would occasionally infest your mind with a strong yearn to kill and destroy. Gruesome thoughts, suddenly engulfing you with malicious intent - their origin unknown to you. When you resisted them, they would usually fade as quickly as they came, leaving you with a throbbing headache.

One might say that those were not exactly the best circumstances for a blossoming relationship, but Astarion was not particularly impressed by such assumptions. In fact, he had learnt that there was a certain comfort in sharing the burden of internal turmoil. Perhaps that was one of the reasons he had found himself drawn to you from the moment you had met.

Besides, Astarion was confident that you would find a way to rid yourself from these aggravating compulsions for good. After all, he had promised you on that fateful night - and even if he might exaggerate at times, he had meant every single word.

A light breeze rustled through the trees and brought him back from his thoughts. He sat next to his tent with a book in his hands and relished the last beams the sun would offer that day. The warmth was pleasant on his skin, especially after the long march that was behind him.

You and the rest of your companions had left the shadowlands a few days ago and were now heading towards Baldur’s Gate. After hiking through dense forests and small villages, you had decided it was time to make camp and continue your travels after dawn.

It was unusually quiet today. Perhaps the others were taking some time for themselves as well, he thought. You would probably gather around the fire later this evening, sharing some tales over a bottle of wine or discussing the next steps lying ahead of you. 

Astarion let his gaze wander, back from the other tents to a more secluded spot, where he found you. You were sitting in the grass, holding one arm out in front of you with a loaf of bread beside your feet. A small bird with bright orange feathers was fluttering excitedly around you. It seemed like you were about to toss it some crumbs, and it was impatiently waiting to get its beak full.

Astarion rolled his eyes. Typical. You would probably even share your food with some random animal if it meant starving yourself. 

Then again, it was also kind of adorable, he thought as his lips inevitably turned into a grin.

As he continued to watch you from afar, he realised that something was off about you. You weren't moving at all. 

That was odd. 

Your arm looked too stiff, slightly cramped even, and as he squinted his eyes to get a better look, he could see that your hand was clenched into a fist. It was as if you were forcing yourself to hold the position.

Astarion’s senses immediately sharpened.

He got up with haste, carelessly tossing his book aside and lunged towards you while calling out your name.

This was bad.

Uneasiness spread over his body like a rash, before he could even pinpoint what was going on with you. 

“My love, are you al-” The sentence stuck in his throat as he finally came to see you up close.

Your mouth was twitching, contorting your soft features into a grotesque grimace. You looked nothing like your usual self.

Astarion had seen this expression on you before.

His thoughts started to race, as he prepared himself to force you to the ground if necessary. He had no rope on him to restrain you, but in lack of a better solution his laces would have to do.

In any case, he would not let that thing take control over you.

He reached for your shoulder, bracing himself for the worst - but before he could grab you, your features already started to relax.

You must have snapped out of it. This was you again. 

You let your stiffened arm hang down and opened your fist, spilling the remaining crumbs on the floor. Instead of picking them up, the bird hastily flew away. Even the creature must have sensed that something was off.

Astarion let himself sink next to you in the grass and sighed. The danger had passed, it had not taken you.

“I wanted to feed it, I swear,” you explained between quivering lips. “But - my wretched brain almost made me kill this poor little thing.” Your hands were trembling, a deep misery resonating within your words.

A thick lump formed in Astarion’s throat as he noticed tears started to glisten in your eyes.

“I know, my love,” he said and rested his hand on your shoulder. “But remember, this isn’t you. And you brought the bird no harm.”

You swallowed hard and fixated him with your gaze. 

“Yes, this time. But what if I couldn’t have stopped myself? What if I would have killed it - just like that, without any other reason than my sick thoughts ordering me to?”

“Well, in that case…, “ Astarion replied and tapped his chin, “I assume Gale would have served you some poultry tonight. And I would’ve been glad to depend on blood for a chance, since you’d probably have to fight over that unfortunate little thing. I mean you have to admit, to fill the stomachs of our dear friends you should have aimed for something more substantial to mangle.” 

Astarion was no fool. This wasn’t just about you hypothetically killing that bird. Your urges evidently didn’t spare other living beings as well - including himself. This was serious, and yet he felt the need to cheer you up over some silly remark, as you would often find solace in your shared banter. While it was certainly not his best attempt to brighten the mood, it was an attempt nonetheless.

To his satisfaction, you huffed a quick chuckle that finally caused the tears in your eyes to spill over. 

“You’re pretty macabre, you know that?” you scolded and slightly shook your head.

“Am I now? Darling, I’m hurt,” he exclaimed in exaggerated dismay, before a genuine fondness took over his voice. “But honestly, I’m truly proud of you. I can only imagine the force that overwhelms you in those moments, and yet… You’ve proven more than once that you’re stronger than this.” He let his fingers gently brush over the wetness covering your cheeks. 

The gravity of the situation appeared to reclaim you with pressing weight, wiping off the faint smile at his clumsy attempt. You turned your head away from him.

“Astarion… I understand if you would hate me for this.” It was no more than a mumble coming from you, but enough to take Astarion aback. 

He gave his answer fast, almost instinctive.

“No, I could never hate you.” 

It was true. That he could never, not when there was so much about you to love. But somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to say this out loud to you, not yet at least. 

Instead, a tight knot formed in his chest, as he watched your eyes focusing the space between your feet while you let out a quiet sob.

“My love, look at me.” He spoke softly as he reached out for you. With the utmost tenderness, he cupped your face in his hands and made your eyes meet his. “The other night, when you almost drenched my curls in a veil of the beautiful red of my blood, I made you a promise. You remember, don’t you?”

You nodded with your face still resting between his slender hands, as another quiet sob spilled from your lips. 

“Good. And I mean it still. We will get you through whatever the hells this is. We are in this together.” 

His voice trembled despite the honesty that fueled his words. Astarion had no intention to abandon you, the same way you had sworn to help him with his own demons. But this was not about him, this was about you.

You shifted a little closer and wrapped your arms around him - tentatively, almost hesitant at first, until you drew him into a tight embrace.

Your body was warm and pleasant against his, and he would let you hold him - not only because you needed this, but because he wanted to.

“It's okay my sweet, I’ve got you,” he whispered while he cradled you in his arms and let his lips graze against your temple.

Your fingers clutched the collar of his shirt while he breathed words of comfort over the sobs that escaped your throat. 

For now, there was no need for anything else, only him holding you while you cried.

Had he not already sworn to rid you of this affliction, he would tell you over and over again like a broken record, until he made sure that every inch of your body was certain about it.

Eventually you would clear your throat and look up to him. Your face was still wet from your tears, but there was also a glimmer of hope to be found. 

“Thank you. For believing in the good in me, I mean. Despite all of this.” 

“Well, who else would I believe in if not my brave little fool over here?” Astarion said and put a quick kiss to your hair. “Besides, I have no intention of dying again, so ridding yourself from this murderous condition might align with that rather splendidly.”

Your lips curled to a smile, only to be immediately disrupted by a pained groan that left your mouth and made you wince in Astarion’s arms.

“How bad is it?” he asked with concern as he glanced at you.

Another wince. “Honestly? Like my skull was split open with an axe,” you replied with a sharp exhale. “But it’s not the worst I ever had. I’m sure it’ll pass any minute.”

You pushed your fingers to your eyes and stretched your neck upwards, causing Astarion to doubt your words.

He knew that those headaches came with your affliction. Sometimes they would dissolve rather quickly, other times they got so worse that you had to lie down and he would fetch you a cloth drenched in the coldest water he could gather. 

The urgent need to comfort you rose in him again, so he put his hands on your face and slowly pulled you towards him until he could feel your breath on his skin. Then he carefully rested his brow against yours.

That was the best he could think of for now. He closed his eyes and felt your familiar warmth spreading onto him, hoping that he would spend you some soothing coldness.

You remained like this for a moment, the only sound coming from your steady breath. 

Astarion eventually lifted his brow and placed the softest kiss on its former place, right where he assumed your pain was sitting. With his hands, he reached for the back of your neck, giving it a gentle massage.

Your eyes remained closed while you let out a silent moan. You seemed to relax from his touch, the dampness on your skin bathing your handsome features in a light shimmer.

There was this sensation again, something Astarion only had with you. A prickling flutter, spreading from his chest all over his body.

What had you done to him that made him so blissfully light and at the same time would completely sweep him off his feet? Had his heart still pumped blood, Astarion was sure it would beat up to his neck right now. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” His adoration made him almost stumble over his words, but he needed you to hear them. 

Then he kissed the tip of your nose, before his lips would finally find yours. You tasted soft and sweet, making him longing to have more of you. Heat rose to his ears as his tongue gently curled around yours, while your hand stroked through his hair, pulling him closer to you. He couldn’t stop his lips from forming a loving smile over your pleasant warmth, before they met yours again for another tender kiss. There was no tadpole, no Cazador, nor the darkness in you. This moment belonged to you and him alone - and every touch was right.

He finished your kiss with another quick peck to your forehead and cleared his throat. “I do rather like that, you know.” 

“That’s pretty convenient,” you whispered with fondness in your eyes, “because I think that actually helped. My head feels light again.” 

“I'm glad,” Astarion murmured with relief. “Is there anything else you need? Just tell me, and I’ll get it for you.”

“For now, all I need is your presence,” you replied before resting your hand on his cheek. “Knowing that you'll stay with me.” 

“Of course, my love,” Astarion assured as he graciously sunk against your palm. “You’re not alone in this, you have me. And I’m not going anywhere.”

And it was true. It was a promise, after all.

Masterlist

[monzabee]

like real people do – cl16 (+18)

masterlist

Summary: The one where you are having sex with your boyfriend, Charles, for the first time but he wants everything to be perfect for you. 

Pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: smut (i can’t believe this day has arrived), absolute filth towards the end i'm so sorry mom, charles being a romantic dork, insecurities, obsessively planning something for it to only go wrong, cursing, fluff towards the end, google translate French, minors dni!!

Request: “Hi!!! Maybe you could do a first time with Charles Leclerc? Where he is upset because he wants everything to be perfect. And he whispers to her how much he loves her and her body. And maybe a sweet aftercare at the end?Just a suggestion <3 Have a nice day!”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! thank you so much for the feedback and love you’ve left on my last fic! this one was fun to write but please beware that this is my first-time writing smut in my life. thank you anon for the request, i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

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

Dating Charles is easy, you think. Not in a bad way, no. But in a way that makes it very easy for you to lost yourself in him and your love for him, which doesn’t make you feel scared whether you guys are moving too fast or too slow. Charles always tells you that you should live your life on your own pace, without any comparison to other people’s –  although he doesn’t seem to practice what he preaches, both figuratively  and literally on the track. 

You love the story of how you two met, and you know he does, too. He brings it up often when the two of you are on a date, sharing the last course of the night, dessert, even though the two of you are probably full and can’t possibly eat anymore. The two of you met almost a year ago, in France actually, after the disaster of a race. Charles was forced by his friends, mainly Pierre, to go out for the night to hopefully have some drinks and let off some steam. You, on the other hand, were on possibly the worst date you could ever remember being on in your entire life. Therefore, being the only two people who are having the worst time in the small bar, you two met on the back patio where you thought you’d be able to get some alone time. Although the two of you don’t hit it off immediately, the only thing you could think about by the end of the night is when you might see the Monegasque with the dimples again. You guys don’t start dating immediately either, no, because Charles insists that it is important for you two to get to know each other as friends first. You agree, mostly because he is right, and also because you are impressed by the fact that he is showing emotional maturity in a way you did not experience in your past relationships before. But it is easy with Charles, even if he has an inhumane work schedule most of the year and your guys’ schedules don’t match up most of the time, you make time for each other. He knows how much your career means to you and you know the same goes for him so the two of you are very careful not to cross any lines. That doesn’t mean that Charles doesn’t spend all of his free time with you, of course.  

Another interesting thing about your relationship is the fact that you two haven’t had sex yet, although you’ve been together for a while. Some people are genuinely shocked to find this little fact out, for example when you told Lily she almost dropped the coffee mug she was carrying, or sometimes Charles’ friends like to make fun of the situation, mostly Pierre (in reality, only Pierre), though it’s all in good fun. You don’t feel weird about the fact that you two haven’t slept together yet, but you ask him whether there’s a certain reason why and Charles’ answer turns you into a sobbing mess in his arms. He explains that while he would love to fuck your brains out – in the most respectful way possible – but he want is to be perfect for your first time. In his mind, he is trying to show you how serious he is about your relationship by slowing down the pace and taking his time, and when he’s finally able to put it in words, they make you tear up in the best way possible. That’s not to say that the two of you didn’t partake in other forms of sexual intimacy per se. For example, there’s that one time where he came into his driver’s room after a particularly adrenaline filled race and dropped to his knees for you – you can still recall the devilish smile on his face and the fact that he never took his eyes off of you, not once. There was the time after the FIA Prize Giving Ceremony, of course, where the two of you managed to sneak out of the ceremony into one of the bathroom stalls and this time you were the one on your knees for him. In conclusion, neither of you feel you’re missing out on anything just because you haven’t had sex yet. 

It’s a couple of months after the last time you brought up the topic of having sex when the two of you stumble onto the topic again. It’s by an accident, really – and not much of a discussion, only a couple of words exchanged between the two of you. The two of you are watching a new movie which finally made its way onto Netflix, and you’re very happy with your place on the couch – squeezed between the cushions with the side of Charles’ body, which is very warm and making you a little sleepy to be honest. However, your sleepy mood is quickly wiped away when you realise the soft moans coming from the TV. You let your eyes take in the scene before you, the actors on the screen not slowing down for a second when you realise Charles’ breathing has gone deeper. He involuntarily tightens his arm around your shoulders, pressing you more into his sides. 

“Charles,” you mumble, bringing your gaze up to him and swallowing a deep breath once his green eyes meet yours. 

“Yes, chérie?” Although the focus on his eyes are on you, you can tell that he is also very much aware of the developing scene on the TV. His eyes widen when he realises what your silent request is and he exhales sharply. “Chérie…” 

You hide your face in his neck at the gentle rejection he offers, leaving soft kisses across the skin left open from the neckline of his hoodie. “Please, mon coeur.” You think your choice of words does it for a second. It usually does it, when you speak French because you don’t do it very often, but one look in his eyes tells you tonight won’t be the night. “But why?” you whine, almost childishly, burying your face deeper in his neck. 

“Because you need perfection, mon amour.” He replies, but there is a strain in his voice due to the tightness in his sweatpants. 

“I don’t need perfection.” You grumble, your sexual tension feeling overwhelming for the moment. 

“Maybe not,” Charles replies, taking a deep breath. “But you deserve it.” 

You inhale deeply at his words too, occupying your hands with the strings of his hoodie. “Soon?” you ask in a hopeful voice. 

He leaves a soft kiss on your hairline with an affirmative hum. “Soon,” he promises. 

It’s a couple of weeks later that incident when you find yourself back in his apartment in Monaco. Due to the flexibility your work provides now that you’re taking on more freelance roles. Charles was worried you took the step because of his own schedule, but you quickly assured him that you were feeling burnt-out because of the 9-to-5 hustle. So when you step in his apartment that evening, you take in the sight with a small smile on your face. 

“Honey, I’m home!” You announce your arrival, presenting the flowers in your hand with a proud expression as you enter the kitchen.

“Chérie!” He welcomes you, walking towards you from behind the counter and engulfing you in one of his bear hugs – which are your favourite, of course. “Welcome home, I’ve missed you.” 

“Well, then maybe you shouldn’t sent me out to get my nails, you silly goose.” You giggle, getting out of his arms and leaving a kiss on his cheek to go find a vase for the bouquet in your hands. 

“I needed time, and you know why.” He crosses his arms in his chest and a small smirk finds a place on his face as he raises his eyebrows. “You bought me flowers?” 

“Well, yes,” You shrug, “everyone deserves flowers, no?” 

“Hm,” he lets out a small hum, and gets behind you while you’re filling up a vase with water. He places his chin on your shoulder as he speaks in a low voice. “I got you flowers as well; you know.” 

“Oh, I know, I saw them on the dining room table.” You smile as you look at the flowers placing them on an empty place on the counter and turning your head back to look at Charles. “I love them, thank you, darling.” 

He kisses your lips softly, “I’m glad you like them.” He perks up when the oven timer indicates that the dinner is ready. So he takes your hand and walks you towards the door, “You go wait in the dining room, I’ll be right over.” 

He comes into the dining room a little while later carrying a pizza presented on a large plate with what you think to be artistically placed basil leaves. You smile widely at him while he puts the plate on the table and serves the two of you. “You cooked me pizza?” You ask, pressing your lips together to prevent you from smiling like a maniac. 

“I know it’s your favourite.” He smiles wildly right back at you, motioning your plate. “You first, I wanna see your reaction.” 

“Okay!” You answer him, picking up the slice and taking a bite out of it. As you start to chew the piece, you widen your eyes and let out a hum to disguise your reaction. Although it takes you a minute or two to swallow the piece in your mouth, his excited eyes never leave yours for a moment. “It’s great! Which recipe did you use, honey?” 

“I’m glad you asked,” he answers you, picking up his own piece, “it’s a recipe I found online.” He bites a mouthful out of the pizza and as he begins to chew, his eyes widen and suddenly he is spitting the food into a napkin as politely as he can. “Jesus, what’s wrong with this thing?” His eyes move towards your face and widens even more. “Chérie, you can’t possibly like this.” 

“What, no!” You say, dragging out the last letter. “It’s great, Charles, really.” You start to take another bite, but he stops you with an incredulous look on his face. 

“Chérie, non! You’re going to give yourself food poisoning!” He shakes his head, and takes out his phone to check the recipe after you ask him once again which recipe he used. “It’s the one from ‘Food Network’. It’s supposed be edible, no?”

“Oh, Charles.” You sigh, softly, looking over the American measurements instead of the European ones. 

His confused eyes find yours. “What?” he asks with a genuine concern. 

“They are in the American form, not the European ones.” You answer, a hand stroking his forearm in attempts to bring him sympathy. 

“Oh my god, I– I’m sorry, chérie.” He sighs, leaning his head back towards the back of the chair and letting out a frustrated groan. “I am stupid.” 

“You are not stupid, Charles.” You assure him, you hand is still on his arm to hopefully convince him that he is not, in fact, stupid. “It’s a common mistake.” 

“But non, it was supposed to be edible!” He points to the dough on your plate frustratedly and adds, “I even got you the wine you liked so we could share it.” 

“You got me wine to share?” You ask him softly. “But you don’t even like wine.” 

His answer is simple. “But you do.” He takes a moment to reflect and then brings his hands up to cover his face. “Oh my god, I forgot to take the wine out of the freezer.” 

“Charles, please,” You try to move his hands from his face, but he stubbornly keeps them there, letting out a groan in the process. “Okay, nope, enough.” You announce, getting up from your chair and try to forcefully pull him out of his chair. 

“No, mon amour, stop.” He argues, but you keep pulling him towards the bedroom with still chanting the words; no and nope.

When you finally get to the bedroom and open the door, you’re quite surprised to find another surprise there. You let your eyes wander through the rose petals and candles in the room – though, yes, it is a bit cheesy, you know the reason he went to this far is only to make you feel special and appreciated. “Charles,” you say his name with softness, and emotion, and (maybe) with tears but your hand in his tightens the moment you lay your eyes on him. “I love you, God, I love you.” 

“I love–” He can’t finish the rest of his sentence because suddenly you pull his face against yours, and press your lips onto his. His hands are quick to find your waist, and pull you against him. His movements are slow as he leads you towards the bed, but he lets you have control over the kiss and tries to match your rhythm as you deepen the kiss. As you get closer to the bed, one of his hands find your ass and when he squeezes the flesh under his hands, he is also quick to swallow your moans in his kiss. 

You let out a protesting hum when he tries to put you on top of the bed, so he slowly pulls away from the kiss and raises his eyebrows questioningly. “No.” You murmur, quickly switching your positions and gently pushing him to sit on the bed. “My turn.” You quickly place yourself to sit on his lap with a playful smile on your face. You let your hands wander across his shirt-clad chest, quickly starting to unbutton it while keeping your eyes on his. He assists you when you try to pull his shirt off of him and sigh dreamily at the sight, and softly pushing him on his shoulder to lie down on the bed. You proceed to drop your head and press kisses to anywhere and everywhere on his skin. You start with his lips, which he tries to deepen but quickly gives up because he understands what you’re trying to do, then his jaw and neck, his chest and eventually through the happy trail which leads your mouth to the destination you were hoping to achieve. Your start to unbutton his pants and try to undo his belt buckle, but he stops your shaky hands to bring you back up despite your protests. 

“No, chérie, not tonight.” Although his tone is firm, you try to get back to your previous position in hopes that we will let you. However, he tightens his hands on your hips to keep you in place as he pulls you close and whispers, “I said no, mauvaise fille.” bad girl. A smirk threatens to etch itself on his face when he hears your soft whine at his attempt to chastise you. He brings one of his hands to rest on the juncture of where your jaw meets your neck and allows his thumb to caress your bottom lip. “You’re going to let me worship you, n'est-ce pas? wont you? Before I fuck you, I mean.” 

Your breath nearly gets stuck in your throat, but you manage to let out a soft, “Charles.” 

“Tell me, mon amour, or I won’t touch you tonight at all.” There is a mischievous look on his face which is laced with months of built-up sexual tension – rather a dangerous combination, you reckon.

“Y-yes.” You breath out. “I will let you.” 

“You will let me do what, my love? Say it in French.” He moves his hand to cover your neck and applies the smallest bit of pressure he knows you like, enough to keep you on your toes but not enough to cut the air completely or leave any bruises. “You know I love it when you speak in French.”

“Je– Charles.” You quickly give up as you try to string the correct words together but his persistent gaze has you trying again and again to find the right ones. “Je te laisserai me toucher.” I will let you touch me. 

The smirk on his face turns wicked as he clicks his tongue. “Ne touche pas, dis-moi le mot juste, chérie.” Not touch, tell me the correct word, darling. “I won’t touch you tonight if you don’t tell me,” he reminds you. 

You let out a whine as you try to move your hips to gain some friction for relief, but his hand, which is still on your hip, stops you from doing so. Moving your hands to slowly hold his wrist, which belongs to the hand currently wrapped around your neck, you look him straight in the eyes with a panic. “Adorer! Je te laisserai m'adorer!” Worship, I will let you worship me!

“Bonne fille,” Good girl, he mumbles getting you out of your dress in no time. But he takes time with your underwear, allowing his fingers to explore as he teases you – no doubt. He slowly lays your body on top of the bed, and moves his body to sit between your parted legs. “Beautiful,” he whispers as he lets his eyes wander through the curves of your body, your chest, and eventually the wet spot between your legs. “Are you wet for me, my love?”

You nod timidly, partly due to the fact that you’re completely naked while he only has his shift off. It’s not that you two haven’t been naked together before, but it feels much more different this time compared to before. “Charles, please.” Your whine is much high in pitch this time, feeling needier as the minutes go by. “Please, do something.” 

“I will, mon chérie, don’t worry.” He moves down on the bed and lowers himself on his knees and pulls your legs over his shoulders. “Just don’t forget to tell me if it gets to much, okay?” 

“Okay– my God, Charles!” You throw your head back as Charles begins his mission – which must be, when looking back, eating you out like a mad man because the second he places his tongue on your slit, he begins to devour you as if he’s been starving for years. As he licks and nips and sucks at you skin, you have no control over the reactions your body supplies him with, which is mostly chanting his name over and over again. And you are pretty sure that he becomes more motivated to make cum every time your voice gets higher both in voice and pitch. You don’t know how long it has been and how many orgasms he’s given you just with his mouth and fingers. Three? Four? Five? You’re not sure – but the one thing you know is that when you’re just about to come again, you weave your hands through his hair and pull hard. In retrospect, it seemed like a good idea, but you come to regret that decision when Charles takes your clit between his lips and sucks just as hard, guiding through a mind-blowing orgasm which leaves you shaking and arching your back against the Monegasque. Just as you thought that would be it, he begins to restart his fingers’ movements, which has you pushing his head off of your pussy in an attempt to stop him. “Charles, I can’t anymore!” 

That seems to do it, because with a feverish look on his face, Charles lifts his head up and holds on to your thighs which are still on the either side of his head. “What’s wrong, mon amour?”

“I can’t – I’m sorry,” you babble through the involuntary tears, mostly due to the force of your orgasm – which does leave him worried but he lets you finish your thoughts before he takes any action. “Please just fuck me.” 

“Shh,” he soothes you, leaving small kisses to your upper thighs and moves himself to hover over your body. “You did so well, bonne fille.” He strokes your hair as he whispers sweet nothings to your ear, helping you to calm down and regulate your breathing before the two of you continue. “Breath, bonne fille, ma bonne fille.”

You listen to him as he gives you instructions, breathing deeper breaths and trying to keep your focus on his eyes while you do so. Your hands grip his biceps tightly when he makes a move to get up, the look in your eyes becoming panicky once again. “Where are you going?” 

His hand continue its movements in your hair as he smiles at you softly. “I’m going to grab a condom, and be right back, okay?” 

“Don’t.” You croak, your throat becoming dry as you keep talking and start blushing akin to a lobster. “I’m on birth control.” 

“Chérie,” Charles starts, “Y/N, we can’t–”

“Please, I just wanna feel you.” The softness of your voice tugs at his heartstrings as you add, “Only if you want to.” 

“Of course, I want to, you silly girl.” Charles assures you quickly and gets out of his trousers and boxers, and positions himself between your legs with the head of his cock pressed to your opening. He moves his eyes from you pussy to your face, locking his gaze with yours as he speaks again, “I’m going to go slow, okay?” He waits for your reaction before starting to move his hips, his cock moving inside you in a slow pace. As he continues the movement of his hips your lips part and a moan resembling his name come out. He stops at a certain point and gives you a moment to adjust, then moves his hips backwards enough that he gets out of you, but he is quick to slip back in and continue his movements up to the point he let you get adjusted to. 

You let out a whine, which prompts him to raise his eyebrows in question, which you reply with a nod of your own. You wrap your legs around his hips, the skin-to-skin contact feeling nice, and push him deeper inside you which results in you actually screaming his name. If you thought feeling him before that moment was pleasurable, felling all of him inside you all at once feels as if you’ve achieved some sort of nirvana. “Deeper, please, plus profonde.”

“I’ve got you, darling.” He manages to get out, moving his hips faster and deeper at the same time and hitting the spot which causes your eyes to roll back to your head every time. “You have no idea how beautiful you look like this, right now. Mon chef-d'œuvre, tout à moi.” My masterpiece, all mine.

With your entire body shaking with the movement of Charles’ hips, you still manage to nod your head. “All yours, Charles.” Your hands squeezing his biceps for support, “I love you, je t'aime tellement.” I love you so much. 

“God, I love you so much.” He lets out a groan, and drops his head to your neck to press kisses and suck your skin between his lips in an urgent need to leave his mark on your body. “Je promets que je t'aimerai pour toujours.” I promise I'll love you forever.

Your hands move to weave through his messy hair, pulling him closer in an attempt to keep him closer to your body – which proves a challenge because the two of you are already wrapped around each other. “I’m close, mon coeur.” 

“I know, sweetheart.” He breathes on your neck, his warm breath making you shiver under the weight of his body. He puts his weight on one of his arms and moves the other one towards your body, this fingers quick to find your clit as he begins to circle it. “Come for me so I can fill you up, hm? You want that, don’t you?” 

You nod your head and let him take you there for the last time that night, your orgasm coming in stronger than the previous ones due to the overstimulation Charles thankfully provided. “I do, I do, I really, really do.” Your legs tighten around his hips and your hands slip down his back as you claw at the skin there while your hips lift off the bed, causing you to arch your body to mold his. 

He only lets himself come when he’s guided you through yours, his fingers slowing down without stopping when he’s emptying himself into you. The moan he gets out, muffled because his head is still buried in your neck, quickly becomes one of your favourite sounds in the world. He holds you close as he slips out of you, the small wince on your face not going unnoticed by him, and he pulls you towards him when he drops next to you on the bed. Charles listens to your breathing for a while, only to find you looking at him with sleep evident in your eyes and a pleased smile on your lips. “Comme c'est joli.” How pretty. He says, “And all mine.” 

“All yours,” you sigh, but your voice coming off sleepy. “I’ve always been all yours.” 

His fingers draw random shapes on the bare skin on your back as he raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“Hm, tu sais que c'est vrai.” You know it’s true. You mumble, snuggling closer to the driver wrapped around you. “I love you, mon amour.”

“I love you too, chérie.” He kisses the side of your head. “The next time we do this, I’m making you edible pizza, though.” 

“I don’t need pizza.” You laugh softly, “only you.” 

“Still,” Charles shrugs, “now go to sleep so I can take you out to breakfast tomorrow.” 

[yandere-3-sagau]

Hello! New anon here, idk if you do anything like this but i had an interesting thought the other day!

So yknow how you can name scaramouche right of course

So i named mine,,,,genuinely? Like i went out and looked up names (what can i say im down bad okay) and I found the name ‘Ena’ which means ‘gift from god’ (according to what i found-) or something like ‘blessed life’

So what if in a secret creator!sagau, the reader names him that and he dismisses it at first but then catches the reader having a look (sort of like a sad smile) every time they refer to him as that, so he finally asks what it means and they say its because they see him as being worthy of living. That they see him as a blessing from ‘the creator’ and they want him to see himself that way- (like not in a ‘more important than anyone else’ way, just in a ‘you exist therefore you deserve to live’ kinda way)

Idk if you like this but feel free to ignore this if you’re uncomfortable! Tysm for your time!

hehehe do you know that wanderer is my favorite? Quite similarly to you, I took my time searching for a good name. I named him Aziz. It’s an Arabic name and I thought it was fitting since his new beginning began in Sumeru, a place based on the middle east. While Aziz means to be strong and powerful, it also means dear, darling, and precious. If SAGAU were to ever be real, I would want him to know that he is precious and loved. <33

since this ask is about secret creator!reader, i am going to assume that wanderer is still unaware of your identity when you mention the meaning of his name.

Yandere!Wanderer x Secret!Creator!Reader

--

The wanderer didn’t really care for names. He’s had so many throughout the years that he could care less how people addressed him. 

So when the traveler gave him his name, he didn’t really think much of it. After all, it was a name given to him by his former enemy. What special meaning could it have? The traveler never explained it and he never thought to ask.

He kept the name for convenience but rarely ever used it. Many still referred to him as wanderer and he didn’t bother to correct them. There were times he had even forgotten that he had a new name. 

The first time he actually ever cares about his name is the first time he hears it from you. 

The name rolls so casually off your tongue it’s as if you’ve said it a thousand times. The soothing sound of your voice saying the name that belonged solely  to him makes him feel so strange that he doesn’t even realize that he’s never told you his name before. 

Though it sounds foreign at first, he quickly grows accustomed to being called his new name. 

However, every time you call him that name, you have a certain look in your eyes that he couldn’t quite understand. You look at him as if he holds the world in his hands yet it’s accompanied by a sense of sadness. 

Unbeknownst to him, every time you say his name, you’re reminded of his past. You think about how while erasing his previous names, he intended to erase his entire existence along with it and it breaks your heart. 

Though he has trouble recognizing emotions, he can sense your sadness.

Finally, he caves into his curiosity and asks why you always have that look on your face. Why you look like you want to cry whenever that name is mentioned.

“... do you know what your name means?” 

You gaze at him with such soft eyes that he almost forgets to answer.

“No, why?”

“Your name means ‘gift from god’ and ‘blessed life.’”

It takes some time to process, but after finally realizing what the meaning of his name is, the wanderer grows a bit angry. 

Gift from god? Blessed life?

The traveler must be mocking him.

How can he be a gift from god when he was abandoned by his mother, the God of Eternity? and what part of his life is blessed when he’s committed countless sins and all he’s experienced is tragedy. 

Wanderer remains silent but he can feel your gaze on him. Those eyes that to seem to see right though him. 

—

Later on, he approaches the traveler. 

“Why did you name me __?’“

The traveler pauses, surprised by the sudden question. 

“I... don’t know, if I’m being honest.”

Wanderer scoffs. “How can you not know? Are you mocking me?”

“No, I really don’t know. Now that I think about it, it really is quite strange,” the traveler says as they recall the moment the wanderer was named. 

“At the time, the name just slipped from my mouth.” 

“It just slipped from your mouth? You don’t even know what it means?”

“I’m sorry, but I don’t. I’ve honestly never heard of the name before.”

Hearing this, the wanderer is a bit offended. It seems such little thought was put into his name. He thinks that maybe you were lying. He searched through many books in the Akademyia for the origin but he couldn’t find anything close to what you told him. 

The next time you call his name, he stops you. He tells you stop using it. Saddened, you ask him why.

“It’s a meaningless name and whatever you claimed it means doesn’t even suit me.”

“What do you mean? I...whoever named you must see you as a gift. Your life is a blessing to them.”

“The person that named me doesn’t even know the meaning.”

You grow quiet upon hearing this. You can’t refute him, unable to explain to him that you were the person to name him. 

You’re heartbroken that he thinks so little of himself. You want nothing more than to tell him that he really is a blessing. That he’s important to you and worthy of living. But you remain silent and he does as well. 

He stops going by that name and decides to go by wanderer instead. He’s confused by your eyes that well up with unshed tears when he asks you call him wanderer instead of the name you had given him. 

It isn’t until you are exposed that he understands.

You are the creator and it was you that bestowed the name upon him while you were living through the eyes of the traveler.

This revelation sparks so many questions. 

Why did you name him that? Do you really see him as a blessing? Does he really mean that much to you?

His heart is hopeful but more and more anxiety fills his being the longer his thinks about it. 

Are you upset that he stopped using his name? Do you think he isn’t proud of it?

He doesn’t know what he’d do if you decided to take it back. But even if you tried, he wouldn’t let you. Suddenly, it’s apart of who he is now - the basis of his identity. Anyone who calls him wanderer now is immediately corrected.

He wants to confront you but he hasn’t seen you since your identity was exposed. You’ve disappeared without a trace, leaving his heart empty.

Nothing but your voice can sooth his aching heart and he can’t rest until finds you.

Until he hears you call his name once more, now that he’s finally able to appreciate it’s meaning. 

[mistyacorn]

you remind me of the main protagonist

sypnosis; dan heng and his odd way of saying “hey, i think i like you”

pairing(s); dan heng + fem! reader ⟿ featuring; pure fluff, really blank and super indirect dan heng, reader is compared to a female character (hence, fem! reader)

a/n; this was such a random write lol. im so sorry that it’s a bit of a mess, im still working on more clear storylines heheh . i hope it’s still enjoyable! ૮(ㅅ´ ˘ `) ♡ also i made beauty and the beast a canon fairytale here pffft u neva know

⇢ DAN HENG is the type that literally nobody expects to like anybody, and therefore neither do you.

⇢ you’d probably even think that he dislikes you because whenever it’s just the two of you he never says a word. he’s dead silent. he only ever nods or gestures and barely looks you in the eye.

⇢ occasionally you’d get slightly jealous of how he speaks whenever march is with you guys (even though they always end up fighting verbally, it’s still talking!)

⇢ so you eventually take it as a ‘hint’ and try your best to move on.

⇢ though let’s be real, it’s not easy to move on from a crush if you see him almost everyday. especially when he has the most perfect emerald eyes and soft black hair….

⇢ one day, you’re in your room on the astral express and you’ve just finished the book you had borrowed from the express library recently.

⇢ you did borrow it without telling anyone though, so it kinda felt like you stole it haha…

⇢ but you definitely did not want to annoy dan heng with your request so stealing borrowing seemed like the best option.

⇢ you decide to head over to his room, hoping to secretly drop the book and go.

⇢ thankfully the boy is not in the room when you get there (which is super rare, go you!). you tiptoe as carefully as you can towards the bookshelf.

⇢ you quickly find the correct slot and insert the book.

⇢ just as you think you’ve accomplished your mission, you turn around and-

⇢ at the door stands dan heng, staring at you nonchalantly (as per usual). “hi.”

⇢ his sudden appearance immediately causes you to begin a five minute long explanation about how you got there. (yes, five minutes. idk how but you drag it on and on) its mostly bullshit you’re spitting out.

⇢ “…pom pom told me that there was this super cool book…. I just had to read it of course …..and it was really cool yeah yeah ….um about robots and science and…stuff….”

⇢ does pom pom even read?? you didn’t know!

⇢ and you definitely don’t notice amidst your frantic stories, but dan heng listens to you attentively in amusement. he actually has the smallest grin on his face, very well knowing you are making everything up.

⇢ to put it simply, he finds it endearing. he’s almost in a trance, just listening to you talk and talk and talk…

⇢ after you finish your story time, he snaps out of it quick enough for you to not notice anything.

⇢ and you bow repeatedly in embarrassment before dashing out of the room.

⇢ the following day, dan heng suddenly gives you a book out of nowhere. today, his signature cold face seems slightly nervous instead, but you don’t pay attention.

⇢ you see that the book is a fairytale, one that is right up your alley!

⇢ ‘Beauty and the Beast’.

⇢ you open the book to see a post-it note on the first page, with neat handwriting on it;

‘y/n, I saw you liked fairytales and the fantasy genre. I do not. But I stumbled across this book yesterday, and I remember reading the first three chapters sometime when I was younger. It seems like something you’ll like. The main protagonist reminds me of you. I hope you’ll like it.’

⇢ your face is red hot as you read his note. he wrote to you. he thinks of you. he said you reminded him of a princess. (what the fvck.)

⇢ and secretly behind the scenes, dan heng is not as calm and collected as he seems.

⇢ after you put away the book and left that day, he took note of the book you had returned. fairytale…fantasy…

⇢ dan heng immediately started to think hard about any fantasy books he had read in his life. hours and hours of struggling later (he never reads fantasy, it’s too unrealistic for him), he finally remembers one.

⇢ he’d read the first few chapters of it before, and he remembers the main character all too clearly. she reminded him so much of you, yet he didn’t know why.

⇢ (truthfully, it was definitely because she was his first ever fictional crush. and now you were…… but he was never going to admit that to himself.)

⇢ he spends his night searching around the archives. 2am the next morning, he finds it.

⇢ dan heng goes to bed that night, heart thumping faster than usual, because now he realises just how much he likes you.

© mistyacorn do not plagiarize or repost please, just enjoy it ykwim

[eddiernunson]

Really Drives Me Mad | Older!Eddie x Reader | 18+

Previous Part | Master List | Next Part

Big thank you to @forget-you-morelike-fuck-you for editing, you really are the best!

Thank you to @bebe07011 for all your encouragement

Thank you to @names-were-taken ... you know what you did.

Word Count: 10.3k

Warnings: road head, breeding kink, daddy!kink, family awkwardness

Authors note: Guys I appreciate all your patience, truly I do. I was so damn busy these last two months, and I barely had the time or the motivation to write. It's more of a filler chapter, we get some good stuff next one. I'm still quite busy, but I got a fire in me to continue this story. Don't worry, I plan on continuing to the end. There's about two or three more chapters planned. As they say: life happens when you're busy making plans.

-

You sit on the couch cross legged, watching a movie under a big blanket with Eddie right next to you. He’s relaxed in the corner, arm sitting on the back cushion as he half pays attention to the movie. You’re telling him about work, some drama between two co-workers that has the entire workplace turned on its head.

Eddie wipes his hands of the butter from his popcorn, finishing a handful before he speaks. “Oh, yeah, one of my apprentices just quit, so I’m interviewing a few guys next week.”

For some reason, it doesn’t occur to you that because Eddie owns the shop, he’s also their boss, and therefore, has to hire and interview people. “Cool.”

Something in your tone forces Eddie’s head to tilt towards you. You see this out of the corner of your eye and break into a wide smile, giggling. “What’s…what’s this about?”

“It’s nothing.” You insist, way too fast for it to not be nothing.

“Ok, now you’ve gotta tell me.” Eddie insists, turning his entire body to face you.

“You’re gonna think it’s dumb.”

“What?” Eddie yelps out in surprise. “Of course I won’t think it’s dumb!”

“Promise you won’t laugh?” You pout.

Eddie sighs, you’re just hopelessly adorable to him. And he’s hopelessly in love. So of course, he says “I promise, I won’t laugh.”

“I just didn’t really think about you owning the shop, meaning that you’re their boss, and you have to do interviews.” You admit, aware of his brown eyes on you. “I never imagined you on the other side of a desk. But…” you stutter, clenching your thighs. “…then I did.” You laugh, embarrassed. “Then I became aware of how fast it took for me to picture it and I smiled.”

It’s a lot for Eddie to process at once. “Wait, so you thought of all of that in those two seconds?” Eddie asks, as an eyebrow rises in astonishment.

You nod, continuing  to munch on your popcorn. “Yeah…”

“…So what did you think of me behind that desk?”  He asks, biting his lip as his voice gets real low. One part of him wants to rile you up, but the other is genuinely curious.

You giggle, watching through half lidded eyes as his lips lean in to kiss you. Your tongues meet sweetly, his darkened stare making you feel drunk on love. “I—” The feeling of your phone buzzing underneath your thigh interrupts you, Eddie sighing as he reluctantly pulls back. “Wait!” you whine.

He chuckles. “Answer your phone. I promise, I’ll be just as curious after.”

Somehow it hasn’t gone to voicemail, yet. Your hand fishes it out from under your leg, the word Mom and her picture illuminating the screen. Fuck. You wince, wishing for three minutes ago when you were breathing in Eddie’s intoxicating scent. Your thumb hesitantly presses the answer button, “Hi, mom.”

“Oh, well you do answer!” There’s a sass in her voice right out the gate, and you instinctively cringe, understanding the type of phone call you’re about to have with her.

“I do work, mom. You happen to keep calling when I’m at work. Then, when I do call you back, you never answer!” You answer, watching Eddie’s brows furrow. It’s the first he’s hearing about this round about game you have with your mom when it comes to phone calls and you’ve never brought it up because the topic alone causes an abundance of stress for you.  “Please tell me why you called, or was it to just yell at me?”

“Oh I’m not yelling.” She dismisses you, not unusual for her, yet you still roll your eyes and grit your teeth in frustration. “I would, however, like to meet your boyfriend…looks like you two are getting serious…your aunts have found your page.”

“So they’ve seen…what? His ankle tattoo?” You ask, referring to the photo where Eddie is just stepping out of frame on purpose. Nothing about your Instagram account is a mistake for the moment, if anything just to spite his ex.

“The walk-in closet.” Your mom answers, and you gotta admit, that arch of a full body mirror in his (your) walk-in has become your favorite place to take a photo for the moment. “Even if I don’t approve, I just want to meet him. Bring him to supper. He can bring some family, if he wants. The more, the merrier!”

This sounds like your own personal version of hell. Judgemental aunties, drunk uncles, annoying cousins, and your mom all with Eddie? Throw him to the wolves, why don’t you? “Mom, why don’t we hold off your sisters for now? Let’s just introduce him to our family, and he can introduce you to his.” You suggest alternatively, barely holding in a laugh as Eddie’s shoulders relax, unashamedly eavesdropping on your conversation, not that you mind.

“You know, they’re not patient women.”

You laugh, nodding your head in full agreement. “Yeah, I know. Neither are you, and neither am I, neither is Viti. Runs in your family.” You roll your eyes.

Eddie nods in agreement, thinking of the initiative you took when he first met you and laughing silently to himself. Then his nose scrunches. Who’s Viti?

You turn to face Eddie as you talk on the phone, trying to make out what he’s mouthing to you. “Just send me a date and a time and I’ll try to get them over there.” What? You mouth back to him.

“Who’s Viti?” He whispers, still confused.

Wait, who’s Viti? You stare at him blankly, holding up a finger to finish the conversation with your mom as she responds. “Uh, I’m working Friday, and Eddie’s working Saturday…is middle of the week undoable?”

You hold the receiver, getting an answer that starts with “Well” is always going to be long-winded before getting to the point with your mom. “Viti is my little sister!” You whisper to Eddie. Upon seeing the genuine look of surprise you can tell he never knew about her.

You put the phone back to your ear, catching the end of “I suppose we could do Wednesday…”

You cover the phone receiver. “Can you get Steve in the state on Wednesday?” Eddie nods wordlessly, no doubt in his mind. “Wednesday works!” You cover the receiver again and remove the phone from your ear as she finishes with a long-winded goodbye. “How did you not know I had a sister?”

Eddie shrugs, also wondering. “Never came up, I guess?”

You consider this answer, recalling any acceptable times to bring it up. “That’s true, I suppose.” You put the phone back to your ear, “So, I’ll see you next Wednesday?”

“See you then! 7pm, don’t be late!”

You hang up your phone, falling backwards on the couch in frustration. “Ugh!”

“Would it be ludicrous to say that that did not kill my boner at all?” Eddie asks, slightly surprised himself.

You laugh, shaking your head as he makes his way back to where you sit on the couch. “Still wanna hear about it?”

He lays you down, nodding as he leans in for a kiss. “Tell me everything, baby.”

-

It’s Wednesday, unfortunately, and you make your way over to your parents’ house, a twenty minute drive down the highway. Yesterday it became evident how nervous Eddie is, dancing around the subject and being more lovey with you than usual, as if that were even possible. Now, he sits with his shoulders locked and face staring dead ahead as he gulps through his nerves. “Baby, are you okay?” You hesitate to ask, but can’t help it.

“Oh, just terrified.” Eddie admits, knowing just how much rides on this one supper. “Something just occurred to me…how…how old is your dad?”

“Oh…” you shift in the passenger seat into a more comfortable position. “I think he’s 53 or 54. I don’t remember which one he turns this year.”  

“Oh, thank god.” Eddie sighs, relieved, closing his eyes momentarily. “If your dad was younger I could only fucking imagine…what a shit show that would’ve been.”

“My mom is the same age as you, now that I think about it.” You say, wondering how that was a detail that hadn’t occurred to you before. “She graduated in 94’, which, correct me if I’m wrong, is the year you would’ve, too.”

“Well, shit.” Eddie mutters. He hasn’t done a meet the parents dinner where he was the one meeting the parent in fucking forever. So long ago, in fact, it was borderline humorous.

For some reason, Eddie seemed to look extra scrumptious, dressed to impress and smelling fantastic. Even as he looks nervous, he looks ten times better than any confident man. “You know what would help you feel better?” You ask, placing a hand on his knee.

You think you might have to be more upfront about it, but just from your tone alone Eddie is tenting his pants.  “What’s that sweetheart?” He asks anyway, playing dumb, wanting to hear you say it.

“If I sucked you off on the way?”

Eddie huffs his lips out, pretending to consider it. Honestly, he can’t even pretend. He breaks into a chuckle. “Put those pretty lips on my cock.”

You smile in satisfaction as you immediately move to unzip Eddie’s nice slacks and slip his cock out. “You’re already hard” You accuse him playfully. It’s such a damn compliment to you.

You’re in a lusted-out haze as you bend over to take him in your mouth, your shoulder awkwardly colliding with the steering wheel. The possibility of anyone passing in a car big enough to see you in Eddie’s clear windowed vehicle was too much of a turn on for you not to dissect it eventually. His cock reaches your throat, the sounds of you gagging on him repeatedly and your muscles twitching around him make him want to tilt his head back and close his eyes.

“Oh she’s just letting herself be fucked in the throat where anyone can see, huh?” Eddie mutters, his free hand moving through your hair. “Showing everyone how good of a slut you are.”

The words certainly help your ambition, and you start to bob up and down on him, sucking the life out of him with your wet slurps.

“Everyone gets a view but no one gets to know but me.” One of your hands start to play with his balls, moving them around as you lick and slobber all over him before pulling back, taking a breath break. Eddie lifts eyes up momentarily, smirking. “Oh you just gave that semi trucker a fucking hard on, baby I hope you know that.”

You glance sideways, your hand still wrapped on Eddie's cock, seeing the tail end of a white semi truck. You smile up at him and continue, the thought of some random dude being jealous of Eddie because of you was cool. You were only the cool girlfriend who likes to give road head because he’s a good boyfriend, anyhow. You hope he knows that.

“That turn you on?” You shake your head, the nuance too much to discuss while his cock still sits in your mouth. “Does him seeing it turn you on?” You smirk at him, taking a breath as your hand moves up and down his length. Now, for the big guns. You accept him to the back of your throat easily, the deep throating becoming one of your favorite past times with him. “Oh I’m gonna—"

You swallow every last drop that he has to offer when he spills into your mouth, almost too much as some dribbles down your chin. No, not too much. Never too much. You collect the dribble and put it in your mouth, licking your fingers clean. You hum in contentment over the salty taste, sitting back in your seat.

“Jesus christ.” Eddie mutters, still gripping the steering wheel with an iron fist. “That certainly made me feel a lot better.”

In hindsight, Eddie was right to feel anxious for it, just not for the reasons anybody could ever reasonably guess.

-

When you get there with five minutes to spare, Dylan and Steve are already in your parent’s driveway, both bearing smiles on their faces as they laugh about something.

Eddie finally finishes buckling himself up once the truck pulls up and you get out right away to distract (and to hug, of course), thanking Steve for making it on such short notice. Out of view, Steve’s SUV passenger door slams shut. “Dad, do you think her parents are as stuffy as she says they are or—” Arlo Harrington stops the moment he notices you’re there.

Eddie was hesitant to extend the offer to Arlo, but after he asked you with the disclaimer that Arlo is his god child and he considers family…it was hard to refuse. While you knew Arlo was going to be there, you just didn’t expect him to be a carbon copy of the version of Steve you saw in the photo on Eddie’s facebook.

Whatever genes are in those Harringtons, those curls run deep, every one of his kids had them from the photos. “Hi, Arlo. Nice to meet you.” You hold out a hand, diffusing the tension.

“Thanks for letting me tag along.” He pulls you in once he grabs your hand to shake it, muttering, “Couldn’t resist a show.”

You pull back, seeing a younger Steve in him. “Damn. This is your kid alright.” You confirm to Steve, letting go of Arlo’s hand.

Steve laughs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, that’s my son.”

Eddie jogs up behind you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he carries a bottle of white wine. “Look who finally showed up.” Steve announces, wondering if he’s picturing the flush in Eddie’s face.

“Sorry, I needed a minute to gather my courage. We’re 3 minutes past 7, let’s go.” He mutters to you, causing you to roll your eyes.

“God, I’m not going to hear the end of those three minutes, she’ll hold them against me next time she needs something, I just fucking know it.”

Eddie chuckles as he holds your hand and you walk the stone path up to your front porch. Three knocks land on the door and you hear the small dogs barking and your mom brushing them away from the door. Your mom opens the door with your dad and your jaw hurts from the painful smile on your face as you watch the color in your mom’s face drain. “Mom…?” You ask, waiting for her to say something. “Hello?”

“Oh…sorry.” Your mom gulps, shaking her head. “Of course, come on in, everyone. There’s food on the table for snacks and supper is almost ready.”

Your parents’ tiny dogs yap and jump at you as you take your jacket off, watching as Eddie looks around your childhood home. “Quaint.” Eddie comments, noticing the frames on the wall and the little seasonal décor accents.

“Fuck off.” You tell him, a little self conscious.

“Good quaint.”

“You boys wanna watch the game?” Your dad asks, offering seemingly to anyone but Eddie. “Come on, let’s go sit.” He leans into Eddie as he turns to the living room, muttering, “My wife has got a bucket of questions, so don’t be scared by her inviting you to the kitchen.”

“Dave?” Your mom asks, still not having said much since you got there, which, frankly, is unlike her. “Can you meet me in the kitchen?”

Your dad’s eyes widen, the irony of his last statement not lost on him. “Shut up.” He tells you, his eyes kind behind his round glasses. A grin creeps up your face and you hug him tightly, wishing him luck as he opens the door  into the kitchen.

For the next five minutes, nothing suspicious seems to happen in the kitchen. Steve asks if there are any bottle openers for the beer as you sit next to Eddie on the couch, a dog landing on your lap as you direct him to said kitchen. Nothing too awful seemed to be happening, anyway.

Steve sighs as he just gets comfortable. Even with Eliza gone he can’t get fucking comfy. He trudges on to the door of the kitchen when he overhears the reason your parents were quietly bickering.

“—and Eddie fucking Munson!”

“Are you sure it’s the same men? Maybe they just look the same.”

Your mom hesitates, “I know Steve the Hair Harrington, Dave.”

“Yeah, I know you know him.” Your dad answers, Steve picks up on the bitterness in his voice.

You and Eddie are approaching the kitchen now, both going to grab a drink from the fridge when Steve stops you. “Listen.” He whispers.

“I don’t know how, but my daughter is shacked up with Eddie the Freak Munson!”

“And your high school crush is here as family…” Your dad adds, sounding tired.

High school whatnow?

“Oh, I could barely say two words to him! I went into Family Video once and ended up not getting anything because I was too flustered!”

“I’ve heard this story before, Cheryl, why exactly are you still flustered now?”

“Oh, don’t condescend me, don’t act like if Penny Rogers showed up at our doorstep you wouldn’t be tripping over yourself.”

“Penny has nothing to do with this!”

Once it starts getting heated, you look up at the two men and leave the door quietly to give them some time and hash it out. “Was that what I thought it was?” You ask Steve, afraid of a yes.

Steve nods, his eyes wide. “I think so.”

“Do you remember her?”

Steve shakes his head solemnly. “Sorry, can’t say that I do.”

Your little sister, Viti makes her way down the stairs, passing you without a second thought to the two men she has never met. “Hi, sis.” She greets, about to head into the kitchen.

“I wouldn’t go in there!” You warn her. Viti observes you, looking next to you as the two men shake their heads in tandem.

“What, they fighting? Not unusual, nowadays, sis.”  She answers, walking into the kitchen brazenly.

Eddie can’t resist. He really should. With you right there, he knew he’d get hit. He texts it to Steve, instead. Might not have missed your shot.

Steve pushes Eddie over, rolling his eyes. “You’re terrible!” Steve snaps, wishing the world would envelope him whole.

You hear your parents shooing Viti out and she returns, eyes wide and her pretty braids moving in tandem as she shakes her head. “Nope. I was wrong. They’re way worse. Whatever has them fighting has dad’s neck vein popping out, yeesh. Let’s go wait it out, it’s what I do, anyhow.”

Viti plays host and you sit by Eddie, listening to the boys talk about the game. You’re not particularly interested in stats and players but it’s fun cheering for the other team. Eventually you notice your sister has stopped talking altogether. She’s not even watching the tv screen.

You follow her line of sight to Arlo, and the irony of the situation hits you tenfold. “Nope. I can’t. I can’t.” You go upstairs to your told high school bedroom, Eddie following you inquisitively.

“Hey, what happened?” He asks, following you into the room that’s stuck in 2014.

“I noticed my sister paying a little too much attention to Arlo. That’s a little too fucking weird for me.”

Eddie chuckles, sitting with you on your bed. “We’ll get through this, don’t worry. Steve won’t even mention he doesn’t remember her.”

“He’d better not” You grumble, leaning onto his shoulder.

Eddie now observes his surroundings and how it’s so clearly a teenager’s bedroom. Your bedroom from high school. He adjusts as his hard on comes unexpectedly, yet fast. Something about the suggested innocence… Eddie shakes his head, kicking himself out of it. Your mom calls your name and you sigh, getting up from the teal bedspread. “C’mon. Let’s go face this shit show.”

-

Your mom has seemed to calm herself down, directing everyone to the extended dining table when it comes time. Your sister, 21 and in college, eagerly asks for the chair across from Arlo. By now, he’s caught on and he’s playing nice, much to Dylan’s teasing. However, neither of them have any idea how truly humorous it is.

“Sorry for the delay on supper.” Your mom says as you all sit down. “Some malfunctions with the food, all cleared up.”

Conversations carry on like normal, Eddie getting the interrogation treatment from your mom. Dylan feels defensive of his father’s honor but bites his tongue. She even asks Dylan if it was weird for him. “It’s my new normal.” Dylan answers easily, taking a basket of buns from Arlo next to him.

All conversations go politely, Eddie seemingly passing with flying colors. (Truth is, her mind was already made up before this dinner, and with her distraction, what Eddie said really doesn’t make a difference.) As the channels open up from getting to know Eddie and how he takes care of you and other points, your mom brazenly passes in favor of wanting to get it out there. “Uh, so I don’t know if you are aware, but I went to highschool with you two.”

Arlo, Dylan, and Viti are all thrown, of course. You, Steve, and Eddie all do your best to be surprised, Steve a much subtler actor than Eddie, but the smirk on his face is a dead giveaway. Eddie’s just dramatic.

“No shit, eh? Were we in any classes together?” Steve asks, making conversation.

“Yeah…chemistry and geometry. It was kind of hard to miss The King.” Dylan and Arlo pick up on it simultaneously, both sets of eyes jerking around in disbelief. Was this really happening?

You saw the kick in Steve’s confidence as he was called The King. You lean into Eddie. “The king of what?”

“You don’t wanna know.” Eddie lets you know, shaking his head.

“Don’t blame ya, I was loud.”

“I think I was louder, to be frank.” Eddie says, chuckling about his dramatic flair in the cafeteria.

“Oh my god, I remember that.” Your mom looks up, you envy, wanting to see young Eddie, too. From what you’ve seen of him, if you knew Eddie back then you couldn’t have been held responsible for pinning him down in a high school cafeteria. “The cheerleaders called basketball balls into laundry baskets because it pissed them off so much.”

Eddie chuckles, amused by this. “Cool.”

“I used to go to Steve’s ragers all the time.”

“Ragers? I’m sorry, this old man, father of four, dad joke extraordinaire, was a Rager Party thrower?”

Eddie nods, solemnly. “There’s a reason we didn’t get along. He was a douche.”

“Okay, I don’t think I was that bad.”

“Dad, when I was 17, you said you were glad you didn’t have a daughter because you were a raging dick in highschool. Actual quote.” Arlo speaks up, watching this shit show go down.

“If she was a cheerleader that answers why I don’t recognize her.” Eddie mutters to you, pretending to lean forward to speak low.

“Oh, fuck, yeah! You were Chrissy Cunningham’s friend, right?” Steve answers, tapping his brain.

“Yes! I was!” The relief that radiates off your mom after Steve remembers her is a little uncomfortable.

Steve makes eye contact and mouths the word No to Eddie, signaling he still doesn’t remember her, but if they were on the cheer squad, they definitely knew Chrissy.

An hour later, you’re washing dishes as Eddie comes up from behind you. He’s nervous as ever, for reasons he shall not share, but has something to do with the ring in his back pocket and a question for your parents.

“Hi, baby.” He mutters, thumbs slowly caressing the exposed skin on your hips. “Your mom asked to talk to me…should I be worried?”

“I wanna say no, but I don’t wanna give you false hope.” A sharp pain on your shoulder as he bites it causes you to jump, hitting your hips against his harshly. “I’m just being honest!”

Eddie chuckles softly, kissing where he bit you while rubbing your shoulder softly. You hum into him, your head leaning over in content. “Wish me luck, my love.”

As Eddie turns the corner towards the dining room he hears you mutter, “You’ll need it.” He rolls his eyes at you fondly, mentally reminding himself to get you back for that.

Truth be told, Eddie told a small fib. Your mom had gotten all her questions out during the dinner. Eddie was the one who had requested to talk to her and your father. The ring in his pocket has burned a hole in his back pocket all night, and he could finally get to the reason he was so eager to join your family for dinner.

If he was gonna propose, he’d at least do it right. (To be honest, if your parents don’t approve he’s gonna do it anyway, at least he’ll have made the attempt.)

Your parents are already ready and waiting, in the middle of an unimportant conversation. It dies as soon as he crosses the threshold to the dining room, the air in the room suddenly coarse. Has it really been nearly 30 years since he had to talk to a girlfriend’s parents? “Hi, thanks for agreeing to meet with me.”

“Sure, Eddie.” Your mom politely responds, her voice clearly uncomfortable despite her good manners.

“We were just curious as to why you asked us to have a conversation, is all.” Your dad admits, much more nicely, but still hesitant.

Not that Eddie blames them. If Dylan one day came to him with a much younger girlfriend he’d probably have some concerns, as well.

“I’m sure you are. Uh, to be honest, I was rather eager for a meet-the-family dinner…I have a question for you.” Eddie admits, rubbing his back pocket self consciously. “Listen…I love your daughter very deeply.”

He pauses and assesses their reaction, sitting as he twiddles his thumbs.

“We appreciate the sentiment. I can tell you really care about her.” Your dad admits, a soft smile on his face. He already feels a sense of affection for Eddie, despite only being a handful of years older than him. Anyone paying attention can see that your relationship was by no means superficial.

“However, you’ll have to forgive us if we’re a bit hesitant. Our daughter dating a man that’s literally old enough to be her father is a tad concerning for us.”

Eddie bites his lip, doing his best to stop himself from being defensive. It was his best intention to be on their good side. Flaring up seems like a bad idea.

“Totally understand where you guys are coming from.” He says, his hands anxiously rubbing against his jeans. “As I said, I love her. She’s the best person for me, and I don’t think I’ve ever been happier with anyone. I’m so happy… And considering I’m not getting any younger, I can’t wait any longer. I’m hoping you’ll give me your blessing to ask her to marry me.”

Any hope for a blessing dies as soon as your mom opens her mouth. For the record, it starts in abrupt laughter. “Yeah, no, that’s not going to happen.”

Eddie is unable to hold back the look of astonishment that lands on his face. He wasn’t expecting a blessing, but laughter certainly isn’t what he thought would happen. “Uh, care to explain the laughter?”

“Cheryl, while I was also going to refuse his blessing, laughing was a tad unnecessary.”

“Oh, Dave. If you knew Eddie Munson in highschool you would understand. It has nothing to do with the age difference and everything to do with the kid who made dramatic speeches on anarchy.” She laughs, placing one side of her hair behind her ear.

Eddie is stunned by her answer. How the hell was she still thinking like a high school cheerleader this many years later? “I…I have matured quite a bit since highschool.” Seems like you haven’t, bitch.

“While I’m sure you think that’s true, I just can’t see past the screw up. When she gets over how Attractive she finds you, she’ll find her way again.” She says absentmindedly, and even Dave seems to be astounded at her sheer audacity.

He chuckles deeply, arms crossed as he realizes he’s not going to win her over any time soon. An aura of confidence bursts through him, and it's almost refreshing to not be concerned with her opinion of him. “Okay. Got it. Your message is clear.” Eddie laughs.

“Good.” She stops and looks to her husband and says something clearly Eddie wasn’t supposed to hear. “Almost brought up the two years of highschool he repeated.”

That hit Eddie hard. She just went to a place that when Brooke shoved in his face he finally realized how shitty of a person she is. It hit a place that grabbed his heart and squeezed it harshly. “Okay, that’s too far. Don’t make me say it.” Eddie warns, jaw set hard.

She laughs. “Oops. Sorry. Didn’t mean for you to hear that. You gotta admit, it’s true.”

“Seriously. Don’t make me say it.” 

She rolls her eyes in a way he hasn’t seen since a bratty girlfriend Dylan had about ten years ago. “Say what, drug dealer?”

“Cheryl!”

“No, I warned her.” Eddie answers, unbothered at this point. If he has to marry you without your mom there, so be it. “Steve doesn’t remember you. Not the faintest idea who you are.” Eddie takes pride in her crestfallen face. “I respect your lack of blessing, but I’m gonna ask her, anyway. Then, when we get married and you’re not invited, don’t be surprised, Cheryl.”

Without another word, he walks into the living room where everyone is sitting watching a football game, including you. He comes in wearing a smirk, you almost fear the look on his face.

“C’mon, time to go home.” He holds his hand out, a tone in his voice informing you that you have no choice in the matter.

“Is…is everything okay?” you ask hesitantly, getting up from where Steve sits with his legs on your lap.

“If you consider your mom being stuck in high school good, then sure.” Eddie tells you, holding your hand. “Besides I think she’s about to get—”

Eddie is interrupted by your mom marching into the living room. “Alright, get out, family supper over.”

With that, you, Eddie, Dylan, Steve, and Arlo are out the door within the minute.

“Jeesh, what happened?” Steve asks, partially looking accusingly at Eddie.

“She insulted me a bunch, so I told her you had no idea who she is.”

Your hand slaps over your mouth, sharing a stunned look with Dylan and Arlo.  

“She insulted you?” You ask, anger swirling in your stomach as you turn on your heel. “I’ll be right back, baby.”

“Wait—!” Eddie can’t even finish his thought; you’ve already started your walk back into your house to give her a piece of your mind.

Your mom starts flying off the handle the minute the front door slams. “I thought I told you to leave my house!”

The look on her face tells you she’s only attempting to be intimidating with her stern expression, but all you can do is laugh at the absurdity of it. “That was before you decided to go and insult the shit out of my boyfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you’re excused. Frankly, it’s embarrassing that I have to defend him from you because of whatever notion of him you’ve kept all these years. It’s also embarrassing for you to act like some moon eyed teenage girl with a crush when your husband of 30 years is literally right there!”

Your mom’s expression flares up defensively. “If you had heard what he said—”

“You realize how patient that man is right?”

She blinks confusedly. “Pardon?”

A huff of laughter escapes you before you continue. “Do you know how patient he is? Because for him to fire a shot back at you that severely means he must’ve endured far too much verbal assault before finally saying something to you. Which means you spent the better part of ten minutes insulting him for whatever reason until he snapped!” You look to your father who had come to witness the whole debacle. ”Am I correct in assuming that?”

He just nods solemnly, arms crossed as he looks on with furrowed eyebrows.

“Thought so. So here’s what’s gonna happen. Next time, you will not insult the man who has been nothing but nice to you and actually gave you no reason to hold a grudge this late in life other than being slightly alternative. If something like this happens again, I will not hesitate to cut contact with you.” A flick of worry crosses his face. “Oh, don’t worry, dad. I only mean her.” You allow your words to sink into her skin. “Am I making myself clear?” You don’t even wait for her response as her mouth gapes. “Good. Because I will be damned if I allow anyone, especially my mother, to mock the man I love. See you next time, where I expect you to act like my mom, and not this insecure and needy cheerleader I see before me.”

The silence is loud as you leave the front hallway entrance and slam the door shut behind you. The sight of Arlo, Steve, and Eddie standing near their vehicles greets you, their eyes synchronously moving to you as the sound of the door slam echoes in the neighborhood.

Eddie jogs over to you, his face concerned. “What was that about?” He asks, observing your mood.

“Yeah, like I’m ever gonna sit idly and watch when someone insults you. That’s unacceptable, I don’t care who it is.” You tell him, your mouth in a stern line, without a hint of humor in your voice.

“I—what?” He asks, his voice soft, his pupils jerkily assessing your face.

“I’m sorry you had to deal with that, that’s so unfair of her.”

“No, baby, I don’t care about that.” He dismisses it, the last thing on this mind. “Did you just stand up for me? To your own family?”

Suddenly the mist in his eyes becomes much clearer. “Of course! I can’t stomach that crap.”

A small “umph” leaves our throat as he tugs you into his chest with more force than you think he intended to. “I love you so fucking much.”

A sense of pride takes over you, smiling into his chest.

“So, we have a long drive back to Hawkins, so we’re gonna get going.” Steve mentions, suddenly realizing the two of you probably won’t be in the mood for any company tonight.

Eddie lifts his head to respond, you curl into his chest as one of his hands drop. “Of course, dude. If I’d known…”

“I don’t think any of us could’ve predicted that.” Steve laughs, letting the two of you off the hook.

“Oh shit,” Arlo stops himself from getting into his passenger side door. “You know your baby sister gave me her number, right?” He asks you, holding out a little folded piece of paper.

You wince in embarrassment. “Oh god. Don’t feel obligated. She’s just a girl with a crush.”

Arlo shrugs, not making a big deal out of it. “No, I know. Just making you aware.”

You watch him carefully. “…Hey Arlo?”

“Yep?”

“Why are you putting her number back in your wallet?”

He hesitates. “No reason...”

“Arlo?” You ask, your voice raising.

“What? No harm no foul.” He shrugs, putting the wallet back into his pants pocket.

You roll your eyes, shifting your attention to Steve. “Keep an eye on him?”

“I make no promises.” Steve laughs, holding his hands up in surrender.

“You laugh now, Steve, but just wait until Eliza is giving her numbers to men like Arlo.”

Steve stops laughing.

“That’s what I thought.”

Dylan can’t help himself from chiming in the thought that’s been eating at his brain. “Hey look at it this way.” He says, swinging an arm around your shoulder. “If they get married, your sister will have succeeded where your mom failed to.”

“Oh? And what’s that?” You ask, arms crossed with a skeptical smirk on your face.

“Becoming a Harrington.”

-

The bass beat echoes through the house as you dance around, mop in tow as you perform for no one. The Twilight soundtrack plays, specifically Super Massive Black Hole as your hips swing playfully, mopping the living room. Eddie is at work for the day until later in the evening, a rarity, but you plan on surprising him by earning your keep as a freeloader. As you continue to work 40 hours a week, the only thing you have to pay is your phone bill and car insurance, but you feel bad as Eddie continues to pay for everything else.

So, to make up for it, you’ve decided to clean his already clean house and do some laundry for him. Once the last of the living room has been mopped, you put it aside and return to the laundry room to switch the loads over. As everything is moved over, you lift the basket of hot clothes onto your hip like some sort of busy mom and make your way upstairs to the closet to put it away.

At the top of the stairs, you swear softly as you trip over a box Dylan has laid outside his bedroom door. He’s packing to leave, slowly moving his boxes over to his new place one trip at a time. Eddie had offered the same thing he had granted you: a moving truck with men to move it for him, but Dylan outright refused it. You know why, Dylan is a stubborn person, something you realize he got more from her than from Eddie. If Eddie acts stubborn, it’s usually for something he believes very strongly. Dylan is just plain ol’ stubborn.

You lightly kick at the box and walk through your room into your closet. The closet has certainly gotten messier since you moved in, most of the clothes are strung about when you’re done with them at the end of the day…much to Eddie’s dismay. One thing Eddie has learned about you after he moved you in was that you are not an organized person. His constant picking up behind you makes you smile, staring at him dead in the eye as you place the plate in the sink instead of the dishwasher. To Eddie, it’s like you want to watch the world burn.

Based on the look he gave you, you might be facing some repercussions for it, later.

Today is an attempt to make up for it, finally having the time to place your sweaters on the hangers and putting the pants back in their drawers. Eddie has a system, and you have to admit, it works. Your fingers brush the cooled off fabric as you fold each item, placing them in each perspective pile before starting to put them away. You hadn’t even realized the sheer volume of clothes you had put in the load. The detergent only vaguely smells like him, missing his essence, shampoo, and his cologne to top it all off. Still, the smell of it as you take a big inhale is intensely comforting.

Each pile is designated, so you move through them one at a time, the music blaring from the living room still used as a soundtrack. Pants, in the drawers. Shirts, hung up by type. Pajamas, put into a drawer. Your last pile is Eddie’s boxers, you fold them delicately by style and open the drawer to place them in, when a peak in the bottom of the already neat pile grabs your attention. Eddie is notorious for keeping piles meticulously organized so you grab the pile to start over when a soft thud hits the carpeted floor, grabbing your attention.

The object rolls out of sight, so you peer around the center console and the breath gets sucked out of your lungs when you see it. A small black velvet box sits upside down next to the white console, acting like it didn’t just bring tears to your eyes upon the very indication of what could be inside.

You pick the box up, Eddie’s underwear forgotten. You turn it over in your hands, thumb smoothing over the velvet as you contemplate opening it. Your hand itches for it, moving to open and backing out as soon as the seal is broken. Your teeth are grinding so hard as you place it on top of the center console and move to put Eddie’s underwear away, distracting yourself from doing something crazy.

The drawer closes, nothing else to do. The kitchen is done, living room is done, Dylan isn’t around for you to bother him and distract yourself. Mentally, you make a list of things you could be doing instead as you pace around the closet, the little box growing a big presence in the closed-in space. Your phone in your back pocket buzzes, you take it out, grateful for a distraction.

Shit, just someone you’ve spoken to once adding to their story. Your phone goes back into the pocket, and you stare at the box. It’s too tempting. It’s like Eddie staring at you with his dark brown eyes when he’s seducing you. How could you not give in to something when it tempts you so?

“Shit.” You whisper, walking slowly towards it. Finally, you let yourself open it, and your eyes well up as you see its silver and intricate design. It’s just what you envisioned for an engagement ring to be; you couldn’t have picked out a better ring even if you’d tried. How the hell did he find this? How did he know? Your hands are moving before you can even register. The music is still loud downstairs, but it’s muffled to you as your heartbeat takes over. The ring slides easily onto your left ring finger, and it fits perfectly. A tear falls down your cheek, an involuntary smile takes over your face.

Fuck, he does want to be with you forever, enough to go and get a ring. Your hands shakily move to remove it and it feels like torture as the ring lingers on the ridges of your fingerprint. Words can’t convey how hard it is to take it off. Who knows how long Eddie’s going to wait to propose? You don’t want to wait another day, let alone months. The idea of knowing but never knowing when he’s going to do it somehow feels worse than not knowing he has a ring to begin with.

No, you can’t even wait another hour. Your thumb hits the call button on Eddie’s name, top of your favorites, the recent calls, and your text messages. Doesn’t matter, if your thumb hits the top of your screen it’ll lead to him somehow.

He picks up on the second ring. “Hi, baby.” He greets you so warmly, a smile radiating in his voice.

You stare at the ring now sitting in your hand and nearly cry just from his tone alone. “Come home.”

“Wh-what, why?” Eddie asks, sounding alarmed. “Are you okay, did something happen, or--?” You can hear him moving around, he’s already getting ready to leave.

“I really need you right now.” You tell him, watching the silver band catch the fluorescent lighting of the closet. “Just come home.”

“Okay, sit tight, be right there. Love you.” Before you can respond, he hangs up, and you suddenly realize you have mere minutes to go and turn off the blaring music.

When Eddie bursts through the door, you greet him in the front entrance, the music turned off as you stand there with one hand behind your back, concealing the box in your hands. It lasts only a second. “Ask me.” You tell him, forgetting to show him the ring.

Eddie stops in his tracks; unsure he heard you correctly. He appears deeply concerned, his brow deeply furrowed and lips in a tight line. “I’m sorry?”

“Oh.” You let out, bringing the ring into his sight. Eddie’s eyes widen as he sees the box within your clenched grip. You shove it into his chest, eyes welling up as you tell him again. “Ask me. Get down on one knee and ask me.”

“A-a-are you sure? I had a plan, I was gonna make a whole romantic evening out of it—”

You interrupt him, happy tears shining in your eyes. “Edward Munson if you don’t ask me right now, I swear to god—”

“Okay, okay!” He chuckles, relieved his worry was all for nothing, yet his heart races as he shakily takes a breath and slowly lowers onto one of his knees. “Y/N L/N,” he starts, licking his lips as he smiles up at you. He holds out the tiny box you spent the last hour fidgeting with and opens it. “Will you marry me?” It couldn’t have looked any better…the shine in his eyes as he looks up at you, how the heavy breathing of his chest signals his nerves, his fingers fidgeting around the little black box.

You giggle through a teary yes, meeting him halfway as he rushes to his feet, grabby hands pawing at his face to yank him into a kiss. You’re both smiling too much to truly lock lips, feeling the top row of his teeth against your own gnash in the best of ways. “Put it on, put it on!” You mutter, your left hand tapping his chest impatiently.

His hands move quickly, stumbling as he slides it on. You can swear you see his eyes well up as he admires how it looks on your finger. “Back where it belongs.” You whisper to yourself, tapping your fingers on his chest.

The sentence takes a minute for Eddie to register as he smiles down at you, lovelorn. “Did you try the ring on?”

Your eyes widen, your face breaking into a wide smile. “I mean, with a ring as perfect as this one, how could I not?”

“Perfect, eh?” He asks, one hand moving up to caress your cheek. “I’ll take it.” He leans down to kiss you, all his emotions he fails to put into words conveying in the deep and lush kiss. It takes your breath away. “You sure? You wanna wear a pretty white dress and walk down the aisle to little old me?” Eddie ignored the subtle strain at his cock as he pictured you in a white dress at the opposite end of the aisle. Well, that’s new.

“Yes, I’m fucking sure!” You tell him, lightly bonking him as you continue to kiss him. “I wouldn’t have stared at the box for twenty minutes if I wasn’t sure.”

He separates from you, a smirk on his face. “Twenty minutes?”

“Yeah. If it wasn’t a ring, I think I would’ve died.” You confess easily, and the truth always comes so easy to you when it comes to Eddie. “Now kiss me some more.”

He laughs, leaning in for a slippery wet kiss. His breath is delicious, he tilts his head to deepen the kiss while his fingers trail along your side and rest on a patch of skin that’s exposed on your hip. It tugs the littlest of whimpers out of you, hands resting on his broad shoulders. His tongue licks along the bottom lip, asking for permission in a way he usually demands. You grant it, your foot taking an accidental step back on the hardwood.

Eddie’s hand that rests on your face moves down your neck, his rough fingers are tense as they seem to memorize every inch of your skin. Your neck tingles in its wake, a sigh of contentment leaves your lips. Eddie responds with a dirty exhale into your mouth and your jaw falls open in a sudden need for him. A sudden charge in you appears out of thin air, wanting more. “Ed.” You whimper out, clutching onto his jacket he’s still wearing.

He hums in response; you can feel his lips turn upward into a smirk as his hands continue their journey to your waistline. Your thighs clench together, craving friction on your heat that for whatever reason he hasn’t granted yet. You become impatient, moving the jacket off his shoulders and you’re happily greeted by the muscle shirt he’s wearing, his gorgeous arms on full display. His lips kiss down your neck, his hands spread out as if to touch every inch that they can, lifting your oversized t-shirt to expose the skin. You move to assist him, lifting your shirt above your head. It’s not going fast enough for you, there’s too much clothing on you.

Your feet unconsciously move toward somewhere you can lie down, the couch, the counter, the stairs, anywhere to prevent your knees from buckling embarrassingly. “Where you going?” He mutters, yet still allowing you to lead.

The back of your thighs meet the armrest of the couch. “The couch, apparently.” You answer, sighing as he continues to devour your neck.

Eddie inhales the perfume you spritzed that morning and lets out a chuckle. Before you can even ask, he pushes you by the shoulders, making you fall backwards onto the couch. “Fine by me.”

Your back hits the cushions, a rough landing as you bounce. Eddie crawls on top of you, tongue meeting your leg in a trail of wet kisses as he makes his way up to your pelvis. A whine leaves your throat, eyes closing in bliss as each kiss contributes to the blindingly hot need for him in your pussy.

Eddie reaches your crotch, and as he lifts his mouth from you, you expect him to take your shorts off. Instead, he puts his face in and inhales, moaning when your aroma hits his nose. Just from your smell he can tell how wet you are. “Baby you are soaked, aren’t you?” His brown eyes meet yours, lust overwhelming his eyes.

“Always.” You answer, not a hint of shame behind it. “Always ready for you.”

Eddie’s eyes roll into the back of his head at your answer, groaning. Fuck, doesn’t that deserve a reward. His hands easily hook around the elastic band of your grey shorts, moving them swiftly off your legs. His original plan to tease you through your panties goes to shit, your eagerness driving the need to devour you like an arrow into his chest. The glisten of your folds is a sight to see– as always–  as he makes himself comfortable on the couch, situating your legs over his shoulders. A squeal of giggles escapes your throat as he tugs your body to where he needs you. Your knees meet your torso, toes already curled at the anticipation as his hot and heavy breaths send jolts of pleasure and he hasn’t even touched your dripping cunt yet.

“Eddie.” Your voice comes out desperate.

Eddie smirks at it, it’s barely been a full minute since he tugged your shorts off. “I know.” One hand that rests on your thigh reaches forward for your left hand, toying with the ring that hasn’t been on your finger for more than five minutes. Your hand shakily grips his tightly and you clench your thighs around his head tightly in anticipation.

After what feels like ages, he finally leans in to devour you, using his tongue in one long stripe along your folds. The release it gives you is both not enough and everything you need. Your hips grind up to meet his mouth, heels digging in, and his deep chuckle vibrating against your pussy is too fucking good. Moans leave your mouth at your breathing rate, every breath being a whimper to let Eddie know how fucking good his mouth feels against you.

The hand still on your other thigh travels to play at your clit gently, and your moans go silent as your thighs fucking quake against him. Eddie can’t stop the satisfaction that purrs through him in the form of laughter. “Fuck, baby. Barely touched you.” He mutters, low enough he’s not even sure you hear him.

Halfway through a sigh, it turns into a laugh. “Mouth feels so good.”

Eddie hums in response, mouthing at your folds again before his tongue makes its way into you, his nose nuzzling your clit. He fucks you with his tongue and you grind against him, the grip on your left hand harsh and his nails now digging into your right thigh. “Cunt smells so fucking good.” He says, rutting his nose against your clit and knowing damn well what it was doing to you. “Tastes…” he pauses fucking you with his tongue again, “…tastes like fucking heaven, fuck, baby.”

Eddie is driving you to the edge quickly, your thighs tense against his head as your hips continue to grind up against him. Your free hand lands in his hair, pulling at the roots at every wave of pleasure he gives you. Eddie could swear the pulls feel like a heartbeat at his roots, not that he minds. As he continues and drives you faster to that high, he notices the tugs get faster and he moans when he realizes something you do not.

He slides two fingers in, moving them back and forth, listening to the sinful wet sounds your pussy makes as it weeps for him. As your slick makes a mess on his chin and hands as he smirks up at you, hooking his fingers against your g-spot. Your thighs clench even harder as the heat expands, radiating through your body and you barely have a second to think to warn him. “Ed, I, I—” He feels you flutter around his fingers as you cum, your legs shaking as you lose all control of your extremities. He saw it coming from a mile away, as the tugs on his hair became more frequent.

He continues to lick at the slick of your folds and finger you gently as you come down from your high, your entire body going limp. He gives one last kiss to your clit and kisses his way up your body, you watch as his wide smile comes closer and closer to you. “How’s my girl?”

A giggle leaves your mouth, smiling up at him gleefully. “I’m alright.” Eddie tickles your hip bone, and you squirm underneath him, giggling harder. “Okay, okay! Fuck!” Your legs wrap around his hips, and you tug his growing tent down to meet your exposed pussy. “Need you.”

“Need to feel that pussy wrapped around my cock, baby.” Eddie grinds himself into your heat, teasing himself, but admiring the way your eyes roll into the back of your head.

Your heat is throbbing at this point, begging for more. “Need your cock in me, Ed. Want you to fuck me open.”

Eddie’s eyes widen, as he’s the one that usually does the talking. “Yeah? Need this big cock in that tight little pussy?”

“So fucking bad, Ed. Please give it to me.”

“Oh I’m gonna give it to you.” He leans forward for a wet and slobbery kiss, one that you embrace at tenfold. Your hand goes to his jeans where they’re laying now on your pelvic bone to undo the button, shakily attempting to with only one hand, the other still in his grip.

“Ed…” You whimper, tugging on the waistband wordlessly. “Get these fucking jeans off.”

Eddie chuckles as he climbs off you to take his jeans off. You sit up to watch him as his gorgeous figure gets undressed. Your hands move to your back to get rid of the bra that still hides your chest. He walks up to you sitting on the couch, placing a finger to tilt your chin up. You peer up at him with wide doe eyes, his cock only inches away from your face.

His thumb gently swipes at your bottom lip, admiring the shade of them. “So pretty.” He mutters, about to ask you to lay down.

“Wanna fuck it?” You ask, his cock mere inches from your face, you’re suddenly craving his balls up against your cheek and the weight of his cock on your tongue.

“Weren’t you just begging me to fuck your pussy?” He asks, searching your eyes for the sudden change in you.

Your mouth opens obediently, pulling a gasp of disbelief from Eddie. His cock literally twitches, and he realizes there’s no reason not to let you if you’re so eager to. He slides his cock in your mouth, watching as he slowly moves to the back of your throat, your doe eyes still looking up at him.

“Oh, my good girl.” He rubs at your cheek, feeling the length of himself against it. “Such a good girl for daddy.”

As much as you resist, your eyelids flutter shut, moving your head up and down, your cheeks hollowing out as you suck on him. You hear a groan of contentment out of him, and it only encourages you. One of his hands weaves itself into your hair, using it to guide you. You take yourself off his cock, breathing heavily as you take a long lick at a vein along the side of the shaft. Your left hand wraps around the length, jerking him off as you lean forward to take one of his balls into your mouth.

“Oh fuck, that’s so pretty.” He mutters, causing you to stop.

“Hmm?”

“Look, baby. Your ring on my cock…wanna take a picture…fuck.”

You don’t answer, just continuing to jerk him off as your mouth resumes its journey to his balls. You take one in your mouth, the hair on them smelling like sweat. You take a big inhale of them, sighing happily as you suck at the flesh. Eddie’s knee almost buckles as he sees what you’re doing, the idea that you were inhaling his raw scent too much for him to comprehend.

“Oh Jesus, trying to kill me.”

“No.” You mutter, hand still jerking him as you move to give the other side the same treatment. “Just blow you stupid.”

Eddie moans at your nonchalance, and as you finish with the second ball you move back to his cock, spitting on it and taking it back into your mouth. You give no warning as you take in as much as you can, focusing on getting him to the back of your throat. Before he can instruct you, you relax your throat and allow your nose meet his pubic hair, taking in the damn whimper that leaves his mouth, relishing in it.

“Fuck, if you keep going like this I will fucking blow.”

At his insistence, your mouth leaves his cock with a pop, still on your knees, completely naked as your eyes stare up at him. Eddie nearly loses his mind as he looks down at you, hands combing through your hair. “Lie down, baby.”

You need no more instruction, lying on the couch, your legs open as you wait for him. He sits himself in between them, hands framing your head as he looks at your face. “I can’t believe I get to marry someone so fucking beautiful.” Your eyes well up at the sentence as it fucking sucks the air out of your lungs.  

Eddie barely gives you a chance to recover, sliding himself in you. Your jaw drops at it, eyelids growing heavy as you watch him carefully. “You can’t…you can’t just say something like that.” You whimper, gasping for breath. “It’s not fair.”

“I’ll say it because it’s the fucking truth.” Eddie states, watching for the signal when you’re ready for him to move. “God you in a fucking white dress, looking all sweet n’ shit…”

“Gonna be your wife.” Eddie’s hips buck into you in response, and a gasp falls from your lips in surprise. “Fuck!”

“Gonna be my fucking wife.” It comes out of him in a growl, a sense of pride runs through Eddie as he is elated he gets to share the discovery of his love of calling you his wife with you, finally. “Oh baby, pussy is so tight, just suckin’ me in.”

“Want that. Want you. Want us.” It babbles out, Eddie gaining speed as he watches your cocked out expression looking so adoringly up at him. You hold onto him, nails scratching down his back. He bucks harder, head buried in your neck as he attempts to calm himself down. “Want you to put a baby in me.”

A fucking growl leaves his throat and his head perks up to look at you. “Oh my god, I almost just came.” He says lowly.

“Really?” You ask him, eyes shining bright at his confession.

He nods, gulping. “Y-yeah.” Your legs tug him back down, lifting your hip to get him to fuck you more. A grunt of acknowledgement escapes his throat, back to business. “Gonna put a baby in you.”

“Oh fuck, Ed, just like that.”

“Gonna marry you and get you fucking pregnant, you’ll be my hot little housewife!”

“You’re in my fucking stomach Ed, fuck you’re so deep!”

Eddie cannot help the swell of pride he feels at this. “Gonna fill you up, baby.”

“Fuck…Ed,”

The moment your pussy flutters around him he cums into you, white sticky ropes filling you up. His weight collapses on you, your legs gripping on his torso tight, holding him in. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look up at him, holding his face. “You know, I really can’t wait to marry you.” Eddie tells you, his thumb toying with your ring, his hand resting on yours.

You gulp, the sentiment the same. He knows it by your expression and by your impatience, you can’t wait either. “How long—” you yawn, “how long have you had it?”

“Uh…since Harrington was here.” Eddie refuses to say Steve’s name while he’s inside you.

“What!?” Your eyes pop open in disbelief. “You’ve had this for weeks? And you haven’t asked me yet?”

“I knew I wasn’t fucking crazy.” Eddie mutters, and you peer up at him, eyebrow raised in a question. “I’ll tell you later.”

“Ok.” You yawn again, clutching onto his back. “We have all the time in the world for you to tell me, anyway.”

Eddie’s chest swells with emotion, clutching onto you like his lifeline. “I love you so much, sweetheart.”

You nuzzle your nose into his hair, letting yourself get into his tangled curls. “Love you too.”

You fall asleep within seconds, Eddie texts his employees he had an emergency and can’t return for the day. He had a full day, but that was before you decided to take over his proposal.

-

Thank you so much for reading! I love to read your comments, replies, and reblogs. As always, reblogging is the best way to support your fic writers on tumblr.

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[guwix]

Is Caine human or is it AI?

I've seen people bring up this topic more than once. Also, Gooseworx replied to people that Caine is AI. Therefore, I want to sort everything out on the shelf, what we currently have.

Pilot

Caine was demonstrated to us with human emotions, which is completely indistinguishable from the NPCs themselves (Candy Carrier Chaos!). And if we take the real existing facts about AI, it is because AI does not know how to: feel, experience emotions, understand the meaning of text and images, be aware of itself.

Let's take the same Moon, Sun and of course Bobble.

They have a completely different level compared to Caine.

Even if he created them, if he cannot understand the empathy of people, then why does it make it difficult to understand other characters "created by him". For example, Bobble, he doesn't understand his actions.

AI has many advantages, but Caine has absolutely NO control over the situation, despite the fact that he is the "creator". Why would he need a "Watch" if all the information should be in his mind?

At the same time, he tells us himself that he has many eyes, but at the same time, he was not aware of what happened to Kaufmo.

I understand that the animated series is far from real life. But, in fact, AI cannot be insane. Also, Caine cannot emotionally feel "lonely". And all this tells us the opposite, that it is completely different from AI.

If the director of "C&A" creates AI to help order in the Digital World, shouldn't the company come up with a name for the "administrator" itself? And according to Gooseworx, Caine came up with a name for himself.

It turns out that people "allowed" AI to run amok in the Digital World without fear of consequences? Strangely, Caine should have restrictions, but it looks exactly as if he is completely free.

It is not the first time that the creator answers us that Caine is not a person and he does not have the age given to him. But, isn't the fans' question a strong spoiler for the plot? If we were told "You'll have to wait and see", that would raise quite a few questions. That is, it would immediately be clear what Caine is like.

You can also recall a video where a human body is transferred to a computer. Whether this was done for the sake of the fan, or intentionally, we have only to guess.

And one person had the most interesting question. Whether he is the boss, which we were told, we will have to wait and see. If Caine is an AI, then he cannot be the boss, we would have been told that he is another AI.

2:Candy Carrier Chaos!

As an AI, he is "obliged" to know who is an NPC and who is a "human". Everything must be programmed for him. But, he doesn't know how to "distinguish" them.

Whether the situation is worth turning against him, he immediately avoids it. Although, he is not forced to run away, because for AI, he must be smart enough to come up with a sedative. But, Caine just comes up with an excuse that he needs to "drink some water." Genius.

Since NPCs do not realize that they are characters of the computer world, they think that they are alive. If Caine is also presented as a God (and God is so-so with him), then what is the probability that Caine will think that he is an AI, for the entertainment of people? After all, the main characters do not remember everything from their current life (they only partially have upbringing).