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randompiecesofwriting · 2 days ago

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Coffee Snob (Final!)

Summary: Robby has a bad shift, reader shows up to help keep him together

Pairing: Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Warning: Angst! Happy ending though I promise! General talks of sad depressing things you know how it is

Author’s Note: The last part!! I’ve had so much fun with these two and I really hope you guys have too but I think that for now at least I’m done with them, let them have their happy ending. Thank you so much for all of your guys’ lovely comments they alone kept me writing new parts to this!

Tagging @li22ie2017 one last time!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Robby was right.

It was hard to go back to the way things were after that night. To return to a cold empty apartment shift after shift.

And maybe it was ridiculous to expect things to change drastically after one night. You’d only spent the night in his arms, made him breakfast the next morning, spent the remainder of the day in his clothes as the two of you went out and ran a bunch of errands.

The DMV, the bank, the locksmith, the grocery store. All day in his clothes, smelling like him after using his products in the shower.

That didn’t have to mean anything right?

But he could only take so many of Dana’s smug smirks as he delivered her coffee in the morning. Could only bare so much of Jack’s disappointed frowns each day at hand off as he asked if Robby had grown a pair yet.

So he was going to do it. Today. This morning. Before he could talk himself out of it.

He’d already talked his way through the process time and time again. Debated too many times if asking you to dinner was the wrong move given your profession. Wondered what he was going to do if he’d read the entire situation wrong from the beginning. He wasn’t going to push it off any longer.

He knocked on your door just as he did every morning before his shift. He had a surprisingly easy time getting up just a few minutes earlier if it meant he got to see you before going in. For too long he had told himself it was all for the caffeine.

He was practically repeating the words in his head as he waited. Practicing them over and over, ready for when you opened the door. Or at least he thought he was.

Because when that finally happened, when you finally opened the door and peered up at him with a bleary smile, his brain went fully blank.

How could it not when he saw that you were wearing his clothes.

He knew it was a possibility when he never got them back after lending them to you, but it was an entirely different ballgame in this moment, seeing you blinking the sleep from your eye, hair still mussed slightly from the night, silently waving him deeper into your place, all while wearing his sweatpants dangerously low on your hips. It was like you were trying to kill him.

He followed you in without a word, determined to recover, determined that he could still get through his question.

Then you beat him to the punch, speaking before he could, “they’re leak proof, I tested them, so you might want to put these in your bag” you handed him the familiar tumblers and he furrowed his brow at the instruction, nevertheless doing as you said and slipping them into the pockets of his backpack, the new rules becoming clear once you handed him an unfamiliar looking disposable cup.

He knew at this point his question was too far gone.

“What’s this?”

“Decaf for Abbot” you answered as if it were obvious, as if he should’ve known you’d make him one this morning.

“You made Jack one?”

You hummed almost nervously, playing with your fingers in front of you as you answered. “I’ve never met the guy so tell me if I’m wrong, but he seems like someone who would appreciate a proper pour over. Plain black and decaf of course”

“No he is” and the corner of his mouth tipped up in response as he inspected the cup “where’d you get it?”

You furrowed your brow at the question “what do you mean I made it”

“But it’s in a disposable cup”

“Well I couldn’t keep giving away all of my tumblers”

He paused at the implication, smile growing mischievously as he realized “Did you buy disposable cups just to give my coworkers coffee?”

You scoffed at the accusation, crossing your arms over your chest in response “What no I-“ you cut yourself off as you looked up at him to see Robby’s knowing smirk, the words dying in your throat “shut up”

He was laughing now, fully from his chest, the sound much too loud and earnest for this early in the morning and yet it felt right, it felt good. You watched him laugh while you squirmed slightly on the spot, rolling your eyes dramatically as you started to push him out of your apartment without another word, the corners of your lips still tipped up in amusement despite everything.

“No no I mean it’s sweet” he tried to defend himself, but you weren’t having it, hands on his back to physically move him out the door and into the hallway, grumbling about being late for work before slamming the door shut in his face, never giving him the chance to say anything more.

Robby’s grin never once slipped as you did so. “Thank you honey” he called loudly through the door despite the early hour as he shook his head softly, giving you a moment to respond even though he knew you wouldn’t before finally starting his trek down the hall.

With a smile on his face he couldn’t help but think that at least for now, this was enough.

Robby’s had some tough shifts in his time.

Of course none come close to the day of Pittfest in his mind but damn if today didn’t try and give it a run for its money.

He’d lost too many people, had to break the news to too many families, been screamed at by too many patients. Things just kept piling. He was pulled into too many directions so that it never felt like he could poke his head above water for even a second.

It was why at the end of his sift he found himself at the rooftop. On the wrong side of the fence. In Jack’s spot.

Jack was talking to him. And maybe he should be listening. Maybe he should care that his friend was trying to help. Maybe he should at least try and be nice when he asks him to leave but he doesn’t. He doesn’t blow up, he doesn’t yell, he doesn’t collapse onto himself, instead he shuts down. He stares out at the ground below him and lets everything else fade into the background.

So he misses the way the gravel crunches beneath Jack’s feet as he retreats, misses the second set of footsteps that approach in return.

What he doesn’t miss is the newcomers first words to him when they reach the safety railing “hey”

And for the first time a single emotion cuts through all of the numbness he’s felt since he got to the roof, giving way to pure panic. Because he knew that voice.

His head whipped up to meet your gaze in surprise “What are you doing here?”

You simply shrugged, leaned your forearms against the railing, looked past him at the skyline “thought I’d see what all the fuss was about, scope out your usual spot”.

And he knew what you were doing. This was the part where he jumped in, made a joke about not bringing alcohol this time, did anything to lighten the mood. But he couldn’t. Couldn’t get his head straight enough to form a cohesive thought because you weren’t supposed to be here, you weren’t supposed to see him like this, to see the cracks, to see how he could barely hold himself together, to see just how weak of a person he truly was.

And you must have read his silence, seen through him enough to know that he needed an answer, because eventually you provided one “Dana called me”

And of course she did, he loved the woman, respected the shit out of her, but she had a habit of sticking her nose where it didn’t belong, of trying to solve problems she had no business being a part of “I’m fine”

He refused to look back at you as he said it, refused to let you read his face as he blatantly lied, refused to give any weight to the conversation, refused to give you any reason to stay. And for a second you let his answer hang in the air, let him choke on it just a little before you spoke “We both know you’re never fine when I find you on a rooftop Robby”

He whipped around again to meet your gaze as a million emotions ran through him, his head not sure whether he should be embarrassed or angry or resolute in that moment. You knew, you always knew, and of course you knew. From that very first day on the roof he’d been able to see how well you seemed to be able to read him but he thought he had done a better job at hiding it, at being non-cholent, at being a normal fucking person.

“It was why I talked to you that first day you know” you continued as you ducked under the railing to come stand next to him “when I first saw you I thought about just turning around and going back inside”

He scoffed at that, burring his hands deeper into his jacket as they formed tight fists “instead you decided to what take pity on me? That why you started the conversation”

“Instead I decided hey here’s a guy who looks like he’d understand” you spoke the words quietly, without any heat, refusing to rise to his bitter tone “you aren’t the only one who seeks out a roof when things get bad”

That shut up him, made him swallow his pride, made him look down at you with surprised eyes, because you were the last person he would expect to need something like that, something you seemed to be able to read in his expression.

“I’m alone in this city Robby” you shrugged as if it were obvious, looking out over the edge as you spoke “no real friends, no family. I feel incredibly underqualified for the job I have and because of that I constantly put pressure on myself to be better, to be faster, to be more creative, to come up with more dishes, then maybe I can start to deserve what I have. I have an entire kitchen that relies on me including a chef de Patisserie who likes to randomly disappear on me meaning most days I’m the last one out and too many days I’m up at 4 in the morning doing prep work” you rambled nearly too fast for his brain to keep up, your eyes growing red as your blinks got quicker but never once did you allow yourself to faulter, taking a deep breath to steady yourself before you looked back up at him “so yeah I saw a guy sitting alone on a rooftop and thought maybe I shouldn’t be alone and after watching you for a few seconds, seeing the weight on your shoulders, thought maybe he shouldn’t be alone either”

And he deserved you yelling at him for what he said, hell he deserved a lot more anger from you, but for now he let it be, let your words fill the air around him for a second before he spoke “I didn’t know-“

And he didn’t need to finish he thought, you knew where he was going with it, answering with a small shrug “I’ve gotten good at hiding it, better than you at least”

He snorted at that, the corners of his lips tilting up at the edges just slightly for the first time that night “you’ll have to teach me how to do that sometime”

Seeing his small attempt at a smile had you relaxing slightly, your posture slumping just a tad at the sight of it, the corner of yours raising as well “not a chance, I like knowing when I can be there for you”

For once Robby decided to let himself feel comfort in that thought, allow himself to be looked after for a change, just a little bit “I want to know that about you too, to be that person for you”

And he watched your smile turn almost sad in real time, your eyes casting back out to the city “I see the way you shoulder everyone’s responsibility Robby” he furrowed his brow slightly at the change, eyes never straying from you even as yours avoided him “for your patients obviously, but also for your coworkers, for your friends. It’s this massive weight you can almost see that you’re constantly threatened to be crushed under” and finally you cut your eyes back to meet him, any playfulness from the past few comments long gone “I’m terrified of becoming just another responsibility for you to shoulder”

“What if I want the responsibility?”

You snorted at the question but again it was wrong, it was sad, hollow “you’re a good man Michael Robinavitch. I don’t think you’ve ever taken on someone’s responsibility unwillingly”

And at first he didn’t know what to say to that, because to an extent you weren’t wrong. He knows that he invested to much of himself into his work, gave too much of himself away, took too much on. But he could never bring himself to regret it, to do less, to be less. It just wasn’t who he was. “You know I’ve never considered you a burden I needed to carry”

You sent him a raised brow, a silent feeling of disbelief “Even when you have to take a day off from work to take me to the DMV?”

He chuckled at that, chin dipping down to his chest “especially then” He took a moment to study you, to watch your reaction as he said it, to watch the way his answer seemed to bounce off of you rather than wash over you “I mean it when I say I like spending time with you. There are few places I would rather be at eight in the morning than the dmv if you’re there”

He felt his chest warm as he watched your smile grow at his words, watched the way you tried to hide it by looking away, watched the heat creep up into your face as you bit down on your lip, every part of you trying desperately to school your expression and failing miserably. It was cute.

“You know usually I tell myself that sometimes I have good days and sometimes I have bad days and that’s just the way it is” you were looking back up at him again, lips pulled up into a soft smile “I’ve had a lot less bad days since I met you”

And god did that make him feel proud, making him feel deserving to even be talking to you, make him feel at a total loss for words on how to respond because what does one say when someone like you says something like that to him.

And as usual you had an answer when he didn’t. Taking a seat at the edge, dangling your feet over the side, and patting the ground beside you, beckoning him into the position he’s shared with you from your apartment building many times before. “So here’s what we’re going to do”

He relented almost eagerly, taking a seat next to you, sitting close enough your shoulders brushed against one another, happy to see that you didn’t seem to mind “we’ve got three options” he nodded at that, more than happy to go along with anything you said at this point “you can talk about your day, I can talk about mine, or we can just sit in silence for a bit”

He knew his answer before you had even finished talking.

“Tell me about your day”

You smiled softly at that, looking up at him through your lashes, bumping your shoulder lightly against his before looking back out in front of you “Well it started with me remaking the coffee I gave you three times”

A surprised laugh snuck out of him at that “what?”

“Well not yours and Dana’s that one was fine, the decaf for Jack though? It kept coming out either too bitter or too acidic I nearly drove myself insane trying to get it right this morning”

“Abbot would snort ground up caffeine pills if we let him” Robby chuckled again, shaking his head as he spoke “you could’ve given him instant coffee dissolved in lukewarm water and he would’ve happily drunk it”

“It’s my first time making him coffee” you defended yourself with your own laugh “ I have to make a good impression”

He laughed louder at that, more and more weight almost imperceptibly falling off his shoulders with each passing moment “I don’t think-“

“Anyways” you cut him off pointedly, giving him a glare that lacked any heat from the corner of his eye as you continued “after that I went to the restaurant and worked for a bit on some new recipes, we have a critic who’s expected to come in sometime this week I want to have something new to give them”

“You ever figure out that duck dish” he asked genuinely curious, eagerly watching the grin grow on your face in response.

“Oh my god Robby we pulled out some blood oranges and made a pan sauce with the juice” and god did he love watching the passion on your face as you spoke, the excitement in your voice as you described the dish to him using words he didn’t recognize, your voice getting louder and faster as you went, your hand shooting out to squeeze his bicep as you did so something he wasn’t even sure you had noticed you were doing, too caught up in your own excitement.

He loved watching you get caught up in talking about your food, loved the passion of it, the ambition, the excitement. So much so that the words slipped out of him before he even became aware of the thought entering his head. “have dinner with me”

He could physically see your train of thought come to a screeching halt at the question, could see the way your entire body froze as you processed it “what?”

And a big part of him thought about walking it back, pretending he had said different words, that he didn’t mean to attach the exact meaning he meant to them. A bigger part of him, however, was more than ready to double down “have dinner with me”

You furrowed your brow at him, struggling to put together exactly what was happening, struggling to figure out where this was all coming from. He couldn’t help it as his mouth ticked up on one side in amusement. “Yeah I mean we can get dinner, it’s probably a little late to pick up anything but I can make us something quick”

He was fully grinning now “no, tomorrow. At a restaurant. I’ll even let you pick it”

Your expression still hadn’t changed, one brow raised high “you want to get dinner, tomorrow, at a restaurant?”

He nodded “And I want to dress up a little for it. And pick you up at your door and tell you how beautiful you look. And I want to make awkward small talk on the way there. And pay for it before I escort you back home and beg you to let me do it all again”

At that you paused, eyes bouncing back and forth between his own as you desperately tried to read him, silently assessing before seeming to come to a conclusion “you want to take me on a date?”

“Several if you’ll let me”

And even if he felt like he knew you well enough to read your expression Robby felt like he couldn’t properly breathe until you responded, until he had your actual answer out in the air between the two of you.

And maybe you could read that in him too for you had no problem drawing it out, letting the statement grow stale on his tongue before you spoke “promise the small talk will be awkward?”

A relieved chuckle expelled from him at the question, Robby taking his first proper breath since he had first asked before responding “I’ll even start by noting what good weather we’ve been having lately”

You grinned at that, biting your lip as you scootched impossibly closer to him “well it has been uncharacteristically warm as of late”

“save it for tomorrow. At this rate we’ll run out of things to say”

“Ahh well we can’t have that” you relented, hooking your arm through his and setting your head on his shoulder as the two of you looked out on the city.

“Limoncello” You spoke out after a brief silence, your voice soft “I think we should do Limoncello tomorrow”

He couldn’t have bit down on his grin if he had tried, leaning down before he could stop himself and placing a soft kiss on the crown of your head “I think I can make that happen”

You hummed happily at that, giving his arm a small squeeze in response.

“But only if we do Alta Via as the second one”

He could feel you laugh from his shoulder in response, your entire body shaking softly with it “Already planning the second one, someone’s awfully confident “

“I like to think I’ve earned the right to be by this point” he shrugged, still reveling in the ring of your laughter.

“Fine but I’m cooking for the third”

His grin grew so wide he could feel his cheeks hurt with it, unable to do little more than whisper his next word

“deal”

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nightingale-prompts · 2 days ago

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Depersonalization-DCxDP

What is a god?

What makes someone a god?

The answer is all at once a paralyzing and horrific idea that humans were not meant to imagine as well as the coldest comfort you will ever have.

Some imagine a god as a parental figure of light and happiness. Others imagine a vengeful tyrant of flame and ice. Some imagine nothing at all because that doesn't line up with the reality they seek. Who is to say what is wrong or right when gods do not walk among mortal men?

But let's stretch the mind and think more abstract. What is a god other than an idea? Can an idea be made flesh and blood? Could a human truly reach what the universe's perfect form?

"What is your name?" Superman asked.

They had found the boy some time ago. He had been found locked in a room during a raid by the police. They were only able to tell he was a meta being kept there by a group of what would be best be called cultists but they called themselves artists. They had an obsession with the boy. Drawing him, writing songs about him, taking photos of him, writing books about him...using him. They had this ritual as they called it to get inspiration from him. Well they were all arrested and the boy was thankfully unharmed—they think.

The best guess was that the metahuman's ability caused psychological effects. One he couldn't control. Just like Ace—that poor girl. Of course, no one wanted the boy to suffer like that. But they had a feeling that someone had beat them to it.

He didn't seem to recognize that he...existed? He looked blankly at the world around him without acknowledging anything that happened. Bruce hypothesized that someone might have preemptively lobotomized the child and he hated the very idea of someone doing it. He understood better than the rest of the team where that led.

Thankfully that wasn't the case, because he finally responded.

"I am a—god? God?" He said, writing asked. He didn't seem to understand what he was saying. As if he was surprised by himself. "I am YOUR god."

"What is your name?" Superman asked again.

"I don't understand. I am your god. Please tell me what you want and I will give you it." He said more desperate this time.

"What did they call you?" Superman insisted. He wanted to break the boy of the delusion that the culitst as put him under.

The boy was not human though nor metahuman.

He was not anything. The god was not being more powerful than men. It was an idea made by man and molded by it. An idea made flesh was what the boy was. It had no name, no self. Whoever he was was none existent now.

He had no name, because a name implies identity. A center. A boundary between self and other.

But he was only other. Only what others projected, like a canvas that bled with the thoughts of those who gazed upon it. He was formed not by birth, not by nature, but by need.

“I want…” Superman began, then stopped himself. The boy's—its—eyes locked onto his face. Wide. Empty. Not searching for understanding but waiting for command. The way a mirror waits for you to move, so it may follow.

“I want you to tell me who you are,” Superman said gently.

The boy blinked. “I am who you need.”

"No," Superman said, his voice firmer now. "Who you are. Not who they said. Not what I want. Who you are."

But the boy only tilted his head. And for the first time, something shifted behind his eyes—like a curtain of static briefly parting to reveal the void. It wasn’t pain. It wasn’t sadness. It was the growing awareness that there was nothing behind the curtain. Nothing had ever been there.

He clutched his head. "I don’t know what I want. I don't know if I can want. I am....a god. Their god. They made me. Formed me. I need to help. Give you want you need. But do understand what you need. Please ask for something I can give."

The lights flickered. Reality, for a moment, bent at the edges like heat rising from asphalt.

Constantine stepped forward, slow and cautious. “He’s not lying. He’s an idea. And now the idea might collapse. Maybe because we’re not feeding it.”

Superman turned toward him. “Feeding it?”

Constantine’s voice was grim. “Belief. Worship. Desire. He exists because they wanted him to. He lives on expectation. He doesn’t know how to be anything else.”

There was silence. Then the boy—no, the god, because what else could you call a creature sustained by thought alone?—spoke again.

“If I stop being what you want… do I die?”

Superman didn’t answer. He couldn’t.

Because this god wasn’t power or divinity. He was the horror of an infinite mirror, of a void given form, of something born from the minds of broken people who needed something to love, to fear, to own.

And now he was real.

The boy had once been human.

There are no records. No missing person’s report. No fingerprints. No DNA match in any database. He’s a blank space, a redacted sentence in the story of the world. And yet he bleeds, breathes, and dreams things no child should dream.

He had a name once. A life. Parents, perhaps. Maybe a favorite color. Maybe a fear of the dark. All erased.

Not hidden—consumed.

Because that’s the price of godhood when it’s built, not born. Divinity is not an ascension but an infection when forced into mortal form. And when they made him—those “artists,” those cultists with ink-stained hands and starved eyes—they did not crown him. They emptied him. Scraped out the soft, warm, fallible human parts and filled the hollow with expectation. With longing. With belief so ravenous it took everything he was and called it holy.

Now, when he speaks, he doesn’t speak from memory, but from echo. He reflects. He mirrors. He gives.

“I am your god,” he says, not because he wants to be—he doesn't even know what want is—but because that is what they taught him to say. What they whispered into his ear as they molded his flesh into myth.

They gave him worship like knives. Carved their devotion into his mind with reverent cruelty. Called it a gift.

But the truth?

They murdered a child and left a godling in his place.

And now, they must decide what to do with something that shouldn’t be.

Because a god who does not know itself cannot be trusted. And a god who only exists to please others is no god at all.

#a bunch of rambling #dc x dp #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #dp x dc prompt #danny fenton

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cupcakegirl3 · 2 days ago

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“so perfect for me”

i know places - chapter 8

dark!wandanat x reader

ch 7 | ch 9 (coming soon)

s: hurt then more hurt, then comfort, then two girls kissing and then Natasha's touching me oooooooooh

wc: 4.5k

tw: somophilia (slightly), housewife kink, fear of being alone, free use, nude pictures/videos, anxiety, stockholm syndrome, slapping, oral (on a strap), mean!daddynatasha, soft!mommywanda, arguments, throat fucking, straps referred to as cocks, anal, cock warming, spanking, cuddling

a/n: i love youuuuuu - this chapter only has smut between natasha and reader

It was raining when I finally rolled out of bed. My legs and core ached, I didn’t know which one of them had done it, my body was used to sleeping through it. Every morning they were typically up earlier than me. And typically they used me before they got up.

The shower was on, probably Natasha. She liked to work out in the morning. Plus she wasn’t very good at cooking breakfast.

I did have a light green nightie on but I still wrapped a small robe around me. The door was open and there were faint sounds coming from the kitchen.

Wanda was in there, fully dressed already. So she was going to work. I internally groaned, not ready to spend a whole day with daddy.

“Good morning princess.”

She was smearing strawberry cream cheese on some bagels.

“Hi mommy.” I wrapped myself around her as she continued to work.

Eventually we made our way to the table, I sat in her lap as she drank her coffee and ate her food. Then Natasha came down the stairs.

She was fully dressed too.

“Want a bagel?” Wanda asked as Natasha walked to the kitchen.

“I’ll just eat something there. We need to go soon.”

“Both of you?” I asked suddenly.

My heart beat uncomfortably hard in my chest. I didn’t like being alone, I hadn’t been for weeks. Even when I still lived at h— my old house, I hated being alone.

Natasha sighed, “I knew we should have told her last night.”

Wanda rolled her eyes, not even replying to the bait. Instead she set a hand on my cheek. “It’s just until five.”

“That’s so long.” I whispered. My hands couldn’t help but reach out for her. Her gaze didn’t soften at all. I looked at Natasha, pleading with her.

Natasha looked away, my heart sank. Were they really going to leave me? What was I even supposed to do without them?

Natasha set a box down on the table and slid it to me. “Here.” She said, her voice quiet.

I opened the box, inside was an ipad. “It’s got parental locks on it. You can only contact us.”

It was better than nothing, but still it didn’t really help matters.

But what I had to say didn’t matter. Even as tears formed in my eyes they still walked out the door. The silence was deafening. Even as I watched their car pull out of the driveway I couldn’t help my aching heart.

What if this is a trap?

I tried to shake the thought, walking back to the safety of my room. What if they wanted me to fuck up somehow? They wanted to find some way to punish me?

No. Mommy and daddy don’t do that anymore. They don’t…

I put the ipad on my bed and walked over to my closet. Deciding to wear something more comfortable then they would normally pick out for me.

Other than cleaning up dinner, I really didn't have to do any chores around the house. I just assumed one of them always did them. The hamper in my room however was almost full.

I took it to the laundry room, which I found right off to the side of the living room behind a set of double doors. So I started a load, which killed about five minutes.

Just eight more hours to go…

I had noticed it last week, when they both had to work more than usual. Natasha was messy. Constantly leaving clothes all over the ground and empty cups around the house. Mommy and daddy seemed too busy with me to really clean after themselves.

Feeling self conscious about it, I started to pick up. I had never minded cleaning, it gave me something to do now.

Thankfully, cleaning it all up took about an hour. Only seven more. I went back up to my room, unsure if I was even allowed to watch TV.

Was I allowed to go to the bathroom? Or eat? Or even clean?

Everything had been their decision, I hadn’t done anything in weeks.

I opened the ipad, the cover a picture of the three of us. Natasha must have taken it, Wanda and I were fast asleep.

Fuck I missed them.

I went to the messages, quickly texting the only two contacts in the ipad.

me: hi

The response came a couple minutes later.

Nat: sorry princess, super busy.

My heart sank and I closed the device completely. I needed to do something.

It was only 10:30, I couldn’t eat breakfast again or start lunch.

The ipad dinged, I immediately grabbed it. My heart sank almost instantly.

remindeder: drink water baby <3

I groaned, grabbing my water bottle and taking a drink from it.

The ipad was completely locked up, but I was able to download some games. I spent an hour playing those. It seemed like the clock in the corner of the screen was moving extra slow just to torture me.

At least I was getting hungry. They had never restricted food from me before but they always fed me. Plus they made all the meals…what was I even supposed to eat?

I opened the fridge and it was full, but there were so many options. Instantly I was overwhelmed, trying to think about what they might choose for me to eat.

I hated being alone, all I wanted was for them to cook me something. I sat down at the kitchen table. It seemed so huge without them.

me: mama can I please call you?

After a few minutes the ipad started ringing with a facetime. I set it up so she could see me.

“Hi princess.”

“Hi mommy.”

“What’s wrong?”

I shrugged, pulling my knees up to my chest.

“We’re super busy, trying to figure out logistics for our next mission. So I can’t be here for long.”

Tears welled in my eyes but I kept them at bay. “I just don’t know what to eat.” I said just loud enough for her to hear. “And can I watch TV? or do anything?”

Wanda smiled at me. “You can do whatever you want, just don’t go outside or into any of the locked rooms. Now, why don’t you make a grilled cheese and some tomato soup, that always makes you feel better.”

The tears stopped forming, “Okay mommy.”

“I need to go. Bye darling.”

“I love you mommy.”

Wanda smiled again, “I love you too.”

The grilled cheese did make me feel better, so did having the TV on. I didn’t really watch it, I just stared out the big sliding glass doors off to the left of the tv. The rain had stopped once I had changed the laundry.

The yard really was beautiful, the whole house was. All perfectly made for me…

You could leave. They aren’t here to chase you

I shook the thought away, angry at myself for even having it. They probably had cameras and sensors everywhere. Stupid idea.

Plus they loved me. They really loved me for me.

I grabbed my ipad, trying to distract my line of thinking. For some reason, I opened the photos app out of curiosity. I should have just left it alone.

It was full of pictures and videos of me. All of them dirty and disgusting. No matter how much praise I still didn’t like all the things they made me do. I didn’t even know they took pictures and videos of most of this stuff.

Still, my core got wet looking at them. They did love me, they knew what was best.

I put down my ipad, deciding to get up and do something for the next couple of hours. Maybe I could cook dinner? I knew some basic meals but I quickly went online and searched for some.

The fridge was fully stocked, but I wanted something that would make me feel better. So pasta.

I cleaned the kitchen, killing another hour or so before I started dinner. The timing was perfect somehow, I could hear their car pulling in when I was draining the pasta.

I quickly ran into their arms, both of them wrapping around me.

“We missed you too.” Natasha mumbled, kissing the top of my head.

“I um… I cooked dinner.” I said softly.

Wanda hummed, walking away from us. Natasha pulled be back into her, kissing my lips quickly.

Immediately her hands started to touch me, grabbing my ass and tits harshly. I yelped in pain but her mouth swallowed any noises. Natasha pushed us back until I felt my hips hit something.

I opened my eyes with Natasha’s lips still on mine. She had pushed us all the way to the kitchen.

“I set the table.” I mumbled against her lips.

“I don’t care.”

She flipped me around, shoving my face onto the cold wooden table. The table rattled as she pushed her hips into mine, grabbing onto my ass.

I cried out as she spanked me, pulling up my dress to reveal the pink skin. I heard her pulling down her pants and pressing her bare skin against me.

She didn’t prepare me for her cock, shoving it into me brutally. I sobbed out as she opened me up.

“Fuck I missed this.” Natasha groaned.

“The food…”

She slapped my ass. “We’ll warm it back up. Shut up and take it.”

I had been so overwhelmed for them to come home and all she wanted was to use me. Tears began flowing, right onto the table that I had spent so long making.

She doesn’t love me…

Natasha groaned her hips burying herself to the hilt as she came. I held back my sobs, biting my lip so hard the metallic tang of blood was on my tongue.

She pulled out, pulling my dress back down and lightly slapping my ass.

“Smells good.”

After a couple of seconds I stood up, tears still falling down my face.

Did she ever love me?

Natasha sat down in her usual chair, checking her phone as she scooted her chair in. “Make me a plate, Wans too.”

She wouldn’t even look at me. Did she even care about me at all?

I took my time making mommy’s plate. Even swirling the noodles to make it look pretty, placing the chicken on top and the vegetables to the side so they wouldn’t touch. I just threw Natasha’s plate together, uncaring about how it looked or if she got enough sauce.

I set Wanda’s plate down gently, especially now that she was sitting. Now she was dressed in her usual attire, a long shirt and sweats. She looked beautiful.

I slammed Natasha’s plate down on the table, not even looking at her as I walked back into the kitchen to grab their wine. I wish I couldn’t spit in hers.

I was never like this before. I would have never had such mean thoughts about a person. She made me into this.

I did the same with their glasses as I did with their plates.

“Wanna sit with mama.” I grumbled, taking a step towards Wanda’s chair.

Natasha yanked me back into her, sitting me down in her lap.

“What the fuck was that about?” She asked. I wouldn’t look at her, I even crossed my arms over my chest.

“Yeah you don’t wanna fucking talk to me?”

Natasha’s hand was harsh against my cheek but not even then did I relent. I had never been this mad before. She knew it too.

She threw me to the ground, grabbing my hair and yanking me onto my knees. She smacked me again and again until my ears were ringing. It took everything in me to not give in but I didn’t. Still, silent tears ran down my face from the pain.

“Get under the table.” She barked, grabbing her glass of wine and drinking from it.

I didn’t move, I didn’t care anymore. It was just more proof that she didn’t love me.

“You fucking bitch.” She growled, throwing the rest of the glass on me.

I shrieked out, covering my face but she didn’t let me. She kicked me into the puddle on the floor. She pressed her foot down onto my neck. “Get under the table now or I’ll beat you until you’re choking on your own fucking blood.”

Cold, wet, and defeated I crawled under the table. Natasha unzipped her pants once again, pulling my head into her cock.

“Hold it.”

I choked and sputtered around her cock, choking on the length of it. She didn’t care. One of her hands stayed at the back of my head, barely giving me enough space to pull back slightly.

I heard them eating, at least in silence for a while. My stomach growled, I knew the food had to be good.

“What do you think her problem is?” Wanda asked.

“She’s a fucking cunt.”

“Nat.” Wanda warned. “What’d you do to her while I was changing?”

Natasha paused, “I fucked her.”

Wanda hummed, setting something down on the table. “Maybe she’s sore.”

“I don’t really care.”

Wanda mumbled something but Natasha didn’t respond. They ate the rest of dinner in silence, only the sound of their forks scraping filled the air.

“Get out.” Natasha said, her voice sounding defeated.

I scrambled off her cock, finally breathing in a full breath for the first time in a while. I knelt in front of her, still cold and dripping with her wine.

“Explain yourself.” Natasha said.

I swallowed hard, my throat hurt from Natasha's abuse. “I just missed you all day. T-then you come home…and all you want is to…do that.”

Natasha rolled her eyes, “Stand up.” She set her glass of wine down, standing up in front of me. She grabbed my throat, her fingernails digging into me.

“I own you. I use you when I want, where I want and, how I want. Got it?”

I reluctantly nodded.

“Nat.” Wanda said firmly from behind me.

“What?”

“Darling, go to your room.”

“What?” Nataha asked again

“Now.”

Natasha practically threw me off of her. I was happy to escape to my room. I ran up there, slamming the door behind me.

I changed out of my pretty dress, throwing it on the ground and wanting to stomp on it. I wish I had one of mommy’s shirts to put on but I had just washed them all. I found the most comfortable thing I could find and slipped into shorts and tank.

I went to go lay in my bed but I could hear them shouting at one another. Dread filled me, did I really make her that mad? And mommy? Why was she so mad?

I had to stop doing stuff wrong. I didn’t want them to get rid of me. I just needed to be good. I needed to take what they gave me.

The shouting stopped then footsteps began coming towards me. I ran into my bed, slipping under the covers completely.

The door opened and then closed again.

“Princess?”

I got out of my burrow, being greeted by Wanda holding a plate full of food.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked instantly.

She smiled at me, although her eyes looked sad. “Couples disagree all the time.”

“I'm sorry.”

Wanda shrugged, gesturing for me to sit back on the bed. She handed me the plate before sitting down with me.

“The food was great, princess.”

“Thank you mommy.”

We ate in silence, an uncomfortable one. God I had really messed things up haven’t I?

“Mommy has to leave again tonight.” Wanda said suddenly, not even looking at me.

“She’s so mad don’t leave me alone with her.”

“Hey, don’t say that.” She said firmly. She took my empty play from my hands. “She’s not mad anymore, I promise.”

The plate vanished from her hand with a wave of her magic. She stood up, pulling me up too. I wrapped my arms around her, squeezing her as hard as I dared.

An hour later I was sitting awkwardly on the couch with Natasha. There hadn’t been words spoken and I just wanted to go to bed but I didn’t. Natasha had changed into shorts and a tanktop with no bra underneath. I tried to ignore her nipples poking through the shirt.

After another hour of silence, my mind was racing. Unable to hold away my thoughts.

“Why me?” I asked quietly, not able to look at her.

Her head snapped towards me. Then she scooted to sit closer, pinning me into the corner of the couch.

Natasha’s fingers pushed my hair back, “Look at me.”

Slowly I brought my eyes up to hers, flushing under her gaze.

“You’re perfect for us.” She replied. I flinched as she brought her hand to my cheek, stroking the delicate skin.

“My body or—“

“All of you. We wanted you for so long. You’re so sweet, so kind, so beautiful.” Her long fingers stroked my face. “Don’t ever think otherwise.”

I nodded, my hands reaching for the hem of her sweater.

“Come here.” She whispered, pulling me into her. “I’m…sorry I made you feel that way.”

She had never ever apologized before. Her body was so soft and warm around me. Eventually I fell asleep in her arms, safe and protected.

I woke up pressed against her chest, now laying down on the couch. I was so warm all over and her leg was slotted in between mine…

I was wet and I couldn’t think of anything other than her.

“You awake princess?” She whispered, but I kept her pressed close against me. I grinded my hips down on her leg in between mine.

“Fuck, come here.” Natasha said quietly again. Pulling us both up quickly so I could be perched in her lap facing the tv, which had her favorite show playing.

I laid my head back on her shoulder and she placed her lips on mine. I couldn’t help but keep grinding my hips down on her. Natasha mumbled something under her breath before pulling my dress off my body.

She spread my legs, her fingers instantly circling around my clit. Natasha pulled away from me, “Quiet darling, this is my favorite episode.”

I whined but tried to stay still as she played with me absentmindedly. I tried to pay attention to her show but fuck it was so hard.

“Oh baby. Look at your precious little pussy.” Her hands continued to play with me. Spreading my lips apart. The episode had finally come to a close.

“Making such a mess.”

“Daddy— sorry! Please…need you - fuck - please.”

“Wanna make me feel good?”

I nodded, pressing my head further back so I could see her. “Yeah you’ve been such a good girl. Why don’t you get on your knees.”

I slid down her lap, getting down on the floor in front of her. She smiled at me, carding a hand through my hair.

“So pretty and naked for me huh? Gonna suck my cock like a good girl?”

“Yes daddy.”

She smiled again, pulling down her shorts and boxers to reveal her cock. I licked my lips and she stroked it once before grabbing my face and pushing me down onto it.

This time she let me set my own pace. Pushing down only as far as I dared to. I slowly worked open my throat. Drool spilled my face and onto my naked body. She was still fully clothed.

She pulled me off of her, grabbing my face so she could kiss me. I moaned into the kiss, grabbing onto her thighs so I could get closer to her.

“You’ve been so good for me, cleaning, cooking, like a good little wife huh?” I nodded eagerly. “I think you deserve a reward, what do you think?”

“Really daddy?”

“Yes darling.” She pet the hair on top of my head. “Now you said your poor pussy was hurting?” I nodded, “So daddy won’t fuck you there. But you still deserve your reward. How about I fuck your pretty little ass?”

I hated that my core throbbed at the thought. But this would make her happy. Plus I hadn’t came all day…

I nodded, my hands playing with the end of her shirt. “Please, daddy.”

She smiled at me, “Stand up.” She said, her voice gentle. I did, loving the way that she looked at me. She guided me to lay down on the couch, spreading my legs so she could sit in between them.

I whined as she pulled out her fake cock. She kept all of her clothes on. She put the cock up to me, lining it up to my stomach. I sighed at the sight of it almost to my belly button.

“Gonna be a good girl?” She asked as she reached into the drawer in the ottoman. She pulled out a small tube.

“Y-yes da-daddy.”

“Good girl, now stroke daddy’s cock while I open you up.” I cringed at the cool feeling of the lube touching me but gentleness grounded me. It was so unlike her but I was so grateful for it.

“Taking my fingers so well.” She whispered, staring down at my holes. Two of her fingers were inside of me, opening me up slowly.

“Daddy please.” I moaned, “Need it.”

I just needed her. I needed her inside of me, so impossibly close to me.

“What do you need?”

“Daddy please!” She pushed her fingers in and out of me, still not relenting. “Need you inside.”

“But you’re not opened up all the way, honey.”

“Please daddy. I don’t care please please please.”

She smiled, pulling her fingers out of me. She spit onto my hole, dragging her cock around in the slick and lube.

Natasha slowly worked the tip into me, having to push past resistance as I moaned underneath of her. She kept my thighs spread wide, staring down at where she was slowly pushing into me.

Fuck it hurt, but daddy opened me up slowly. When she finally fully snapped her hips into me I couldn’t help the sounds and pleas that left my mouth.

“Fuck princess, love having my cock burried in your ass hmm?”

“Y-yes — daddy.”

She snapped her hips again, causing my whole body to jolt. “Your pussy’s dripping all over.” She commented.

My head emptied as she began to set a firm pace. Her hips snapped hard and fast against mine. Her hands gripped my waist, making sure to pull me into her.

I could only think of her, I could only feel her. Wantons of moans fell out of my mouth but I didn’t even hear them. I threw my head back, staring up at my daddy.

“Fuck—“ She grunted, fucking me faster. “God you’re taking me so fucking well, princess.”

“L-love you, d-daddy…” I babbled out, my hands coming up to pull at the hem of her shirt. “N-need— please d-daddy need…”

She slapped me but I welcomed the pain. Still a whine left my lips but she let me pull her shirt off of her. “Tried to be gentle…” She mumbled under her breath. Her tank top was thrown to the other side of the room. My hands couldn’t help reaching out to touch her bare skin.

“Want you to be you, daddy.” Her eyes flickered to mine, her hands gripping my waist so hard.

“You’re so fucking perfect.”

I gasped as she changed the angle slightly, her body now hovering over mine. Her lips claimed mine, her tongue shoving its way into my mouth. Our nipples rubbed against each others, the touch instantly making my pussy clench around nothing.

She pulled away from me, her fingers quickly replacing her mouth. She pushed her fingers in and out of my warm mouth. I moaned around them but she quickly pulled them out.

My eyes rolled to the back of my head as her fingers pressed down on my clit. “Gonna cum with my fat cock up your ass?” She asked, her other hand gripping my throat.

I nodded, chasing my high. I bucked my hips up at her. My hands squeezed her arm as she choked me.

“Be a good little toy and cum.”

Her words sent me over the edge, I felt my pussy fluttering still being ignored but I didn’t care. I felt so full with her in me.

“Good girl, keep going.” Her fingers didn’t stop, neither did her thrusts. I screamed, trying to fight the pain and uncomfort to listen to her.

I came again, screaming and throwing my head back against the couch. I felt her hot cum squirting into me as her hips stilled.

“Love you…” I whispered, barely able to keep my eyes open.

“Fuck.” She groaned. “Can’t be done with you…”

Still she pulled out, her cum pouring out of me. Quickly, she pulled me to sit on top of her. Her back hit the couch and she pulled me into a kiss.

I grinded my hips onto her, kissing her desperately. I needed her. Never in my life had I felt so desperate for something.

One of her hands reached around me and guided her cock back into me. She shoved me onto her cock but left me to sit on it for a moment.

“Love you too.” She whispered, pushing my hair out of my face. “Don’t ever think I don’t.”

“I’m sorr—“

“No, I'm sorry.” She carded a hand through my hair.

“No, I’m sorry.” I said firmly. “You…you did all this for me — both of you. I-I should be more grateful.”

“So perfect for me.” She kissed my cheek. She reached out for the tv remote. I just laid my head down on her bare chest. I kissed her warm skin as she turned on my favorite tv show.

She grabbed her phone next and dimmed the lights. “Let’s try to stay awake for Wans.” She said, wrapping her arms around me.

I left my head down on her chest, slowly rolling my hips on her. “Keep going, princess.”

“Love you so much.” I mumbled, burying my face into her chest. Everything about her was so wonderful. She smelled and tasted beautifully. I felt like I could never get enough.

“I love you too.”

I sat up, so I could properly look at her. I bit my lip at the change in the angle. I began to lift my hips, moaning pathetically.

“Fucking look at you.” Natasha moaned, her hands shaking up to light slap my tit. “So beautiful.”

I had no idea how long I bounced and grinded on her cock. Eventually she carried me up to our bedroom, setting me gently on the bed.

The second my head hit the pillow I was about to fall asleep. Natasha turned the lights off, settling in behind me. She pressed her cock back into me, but I loved it. I needed her close to me.

I fell asleep in her arms and woke up eventually to another set of arms wrapping around the front of me. I mumbled her name and fell back asleep on Wanda’s chest.

#wandanat my luvs #my works #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #natasha romanov #wandanat x reader #dark wandanat #dark wlw #natasha x reader

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sturniololuvz · 10 hours ago

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hi can u pls do a fic where like chris has 2 daughters one who’s 3 and the other 4 and like the older one hits the younger one bc she hit her first and chris like goes off at the oldest and she gets really sad and stuff and like ignores him the whole day like all his kisses and cuddles until he apologises and begs for her to like talk to him and hug him again

tysm love ur fics btw!!

“Say Sorry, Daddy”

The house was filled with the usual afternoon chaos — toys scattered across the living room, cartoons humming in the background, and the sound of little feet running up and down the hallway.

Chris had just set a load of laundry into the washer when he heard it.

A slap. Then a cry.

He rushed out, finding his daughters — his four-year-old standing with crossed arms and a fierce pout, and his three-year-old on the floor, sniffling, one hand holding her cheek.

“What happened?” Chris asked, kneeling between them.

“She hit me first!” the older one said, eyes glassy but defiant.

“But that doesn’t mean you get to hit her back!” Chris snapped, voice sharper than he meant. “You never put your hands on your sister. I don’t care who started it!”

Her lips trembled. Her eyes welled.

“Go sit in time-out. Now,” he said, pointing to the little beanbag chair in the corner.

The silence that followed was heavy. She walked over slowly, shoulders hunched, and sat down without a word.

Chris scooped up his three-year-old, gently rocking her while murmuring soft apologies and kisses to her temple. But the older one — she sat there quietly, no tantrum, no talking. Just… silent.

When time-out ended, Chris went over and knelt in front of her.

“Okay, you can get up now.”

She stood without looking at him.

He opened his arms. “C’mere.”

She stepped around him.

The rejection hit harder than he expected.

For the rest of the afternoon, she ignored every attempt he made. Wouldn’t let him help with her shoes. Refused to eat the snack he made. Avoided eye contact. When he went to kiss her forehead during a movie, she turned away.

That’s when it really started to hurt.

Chris finally knelt beside her in the hallway, where she was playing with her doll, still stone-faced.

“Sweetheart,” he said softly. “Can we talk?”

She stayed quiet.

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that,” he said, voice cracking just a little. “Even if you did something wrong. I was upset, but I shouldn’t have made you feel bad like that. That’s not fair to you.”

Nothing.

“I love you. So, so much. And I’m really sorry.”

Still quiet.

Chris gently brushed her hair back behind her ear. “I miss your hugs. Can I have one? Please?”

There was a beat.

Then her eyes flicked up to his. Just for a second.

“…Only if you promise you won’t yell like that again,” she whispered.

Chris’s heart cracked and mended in the same second. “I promise. I’m so sorry, baby.”

She launched herself into his arms, and he held her tight like she might disappear.

“Don’t ever stop talking to me like that again,” he murmured. “I couldn’t handle another minute.”

She pulled back with a teary little smile and kissed his cheek. “Okay, Daddy.”

⸻

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #nick sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #matt stuniolo fanfic

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nexxen24 · 3 days ago

Text

"Is that me?"--Bob X Yelena

Just some Boblena fluff and a request from @redroomroaving. I'm happy to take a break from the fic hahaha and this was very adorable to write, I fear I also love them now.

Pairing: Bob Reynolds X Yelena Belova

Summary: Bob likes to sketch, especially Yelena, but what happens when she spots his little hobby after a particularly stressful mission.

Warnings: None!!

Word Count: 2754

Based on the prompt: “Is that a drawing of me?”

Bob Reynolds, the de facto sixth member of Earth's new superhero team, the New Avengerz with a Z, found himself alone the vast majority of his time spent at the Watchtower. He couldn't be Sentry without releasing Void and Void was too powerful to be let loose so for a lot of the time…he was just Bob…just regular old Bob. Missions didn't need a ‘just Bob’ so he found himself trying to find ways to occupy his brain, get rid of the thoughts convincing him that he was worthless, he wasn't needed, he was there to be a burden and nothing more.

But he wasn't…Yelena assured him of that when she grabbed his arm, claiming he was with them from now on and proudly stood next to him as Valentina announced them as the New Avengers. She kept him safe when Valentina tried to get Sentry to show himself, she argued against putting Bob on missions for his own safety and even made sure that the best window in the tower had the comfiest lounge chair sitting next to it. Yelena didn't care that Bob spent his days reading, or playing video games, or even just sitting in the sun like some kind of cat…she just cared that he was safe.

Safe…he hadn't felt that in a long time…probably never. His old home wasn't safe, traveling through Malaysia wasn't safe, not even OXE had been safe. The safest he had felt in forever was tied to Yelena as they escaped the Vault and he knew that helping might kill him but he needed her to be safe. He saw that shame room as much as she did, saw the young girl she was forced to be and even the one she was now, still scared. Sure Yelena was a part of a team, she was their leader, she kept them all safe but deep down she was nothing but a mind controlled Red Room lackey, running from things forced upon her.

Bob tried to convince her that the shame room was a liar, she wasn't that at all, she had saved him. But Yelena was stubborn, nothing good seemed to ever stick and it was starting to worry him. But he also didn't know how to express his feelings, years of stuffing them down had messed with them so he turned to other activities to keep the thoughts at bay.

One of his favorites was one he did as a kid to pass the time, sketching, whether it be animals or superheroes that could come and rescue him from his broken home. Bob's favorite was Family Man, a guy with a heart of gold and too many children that would look out for the neglected children of the world, beating up their nasty parents and keeping them shielded. But Family Man wasn't real, no one came and he stopped sketching once he left, not feeling as creative as before. Besides…Meth does wonders to the brain and he was certain the drug had made him completely forget it.

But when Walker asked if he needed anything from the store, Bob blurted out a sketchbook and pencils without even thinking. The former Captain America found it funny, Bob, a certified former God, sketching, but he complied. The stuff was delivered one evening a couple months back and whenever the team ran off to fight some big bad guy in Europe, Bob would spend his evening sketching. He didn't draw a new version of Family Man or even other heroes, he had enough of those in his life already.

“Okay so…turn to your left a bit,” he muttered and Yelena’s other discarded test subject, a guinea pig she called Guinness, didn't comply. “Okay fine…stay where you are.”

It listened to the prompt and he chuckled, sketching its small little nose and big round eyes that never seemed to blink and freaked the rest of the team out. But Bob loved Guinness, he never had a pet as a kid, his dad hated everything, so this was a nice change and a good companion for his many hours spent alone in the tower. Half the book was full of Guinness drawings or the team when they weren't looking, mainly Walker since the faces he pulled were always the funniest. He had a second sketchbook in a drawer next to his bed, one kept secret from the others since they'd surely question a book packed full of nothing but Yelena. Sketches, drawings, fully rendered poses that she had never pulled but he assumed she'd look good in, it was a whole love letter to the White Widow and Bob loved it. But he also…hated it…

Yelena and him…what a stupid idea. Sure she protected him, she protected him like some stray cat. Bob was nothing but a bedraggled little animal that you offered some food to in a storm, he wasn't big and strong like the others or funny like Alexei, stealthy like Ava. He was just…Bob.

“Yeah…just Bob,” he muttered and finished off the drawing of Guinness before showing it off. “What do you think?”

The guinea pig didn't respond, just went back to the celery stick he used as a bribe and Bob sighed, shutting the book and groaning. He wondered what Yelena was doing, what bad guy she was fighting or what disaster they had averted like always. The mission had been running a bit late so he wandered out of his room and to the common room to see if anyone had returned but the place was deserted. Bob sighed and made himself some hot chocolate, a childhood favourite, and was about to take a sip when the elevator dinged and out popped the New Avengers.

“Bob?” Walker asked and he waved. “God…what did you do all day?”

“Just watched TV,” he muttered as Walker tossed his bent shield on the island with a groan.

“Better than us. God…I'm never going to Switzerland again.”

“It wasn't that bad,” Bucky argued as he stumbled into the room, arm being carried.

“Says the guy with the broken arm,” Walker shot back and Bob chuckled.

“Look…don't fight, we all just need rest,” Ava said and disappeared a second later.

“I agree…to bed,” Alexei muttered and stumbled his way down the hallway, cursing the small table full of trinkets he knocked into.

“Where’s Yelena?” Bob asked before Bucky could follow the others to his room.

“She went straight to medical.”

“Is she okay?” he asked and tried to keep the worry out of his voice.

“Yeah…you know…bullet problems.”

“Bullet problems?” Bob exclaimed and cursed when his voice got higher.

“Dude…she’s a Widow…she’ll be fine.”

Bucky patted him on the shoulder and wandered off, grumbling something about his removable arm being able to be removed as Bob sighed and ran a hand down his face, feeling the nerves and the worry take over, his hands starting to shake. He tried to pick up the hot chocolate, seeking solace in a drink that used to bring him so much warmth but his hands just wouldn’t stop and it was making him go a bit crazy.

He needed to relax, to sit and wait for Yelena to come back up, she needed to to get to her room, so she’d be there…in time. Bob sighed and grabbed his Yelena sketchbook, sitting on his usual lounge chair by the window and setting Guinness down on his chest, making it his goal to wait for her, however long it took.

-------

He fell asleep…of course he did. Bob was already tired, he barely slept as is, too plagued with memories and nightmares since his dreams were nothing but constant shame rooms. Sure he always found the attic, found the spot where she saved him a second time but it wasn’t the same without Yelena, the place didn’t feel as warm, as safe, without her it was just a room. That small nap was no exception and Bob shot up, breathing hard and trying to escape a room that was already gone, he was safe, the tower wasn’t going to hurt him.

“Are you alright?”

Bob jumped and turned, barely having a chance to grab Guinness before he tumbled off the chair as Yelena chuckled and picked up the guinea pig, giving him some pats so Bob could calm himself down. He slid back in the lounge chair, shocked she got so close and had even pulled up one of the small ottomans to sit a bit closer, thumbing through a book in her lap. Bob’s eyes widened and he grabbed the book, shocked she’d look through something that wasn’t hers just like that and Yelena eyed the sudden angry outburst.

“Uh…sorry…that’s um…”

“I like them,” she said and he blushed.

“Really?”

“Yeah…they're Guinness right?”

Bob looked down and sure enough she didn’t see her dedicated sketchbook but his normal one, the one he shoved the whole team into and the Yelena specific one was on the other side of the chair, safe and sound.

“Yeah…they are,” he muttered and handed the book back as she smiled. “He’s easy to draw, doesn’t move a lot.”

“Ha! Yeah…God…He’s so lazy, aren’t you?” she asked and lifted up the guinea pig who looked unamused. “I also like the ones of the team, especially this one.”

She turned the book and sure enough it was a Walker sketch of him sitting on a chair in the library downstairs, eyes narrowed behind reading glasses he claimed he didn’t need as he argued with a crossword puzzle.

“He’d hate it.”

“Yeah…but I liked it…I don’t know how anyone could hate something like this. A drawing of them, it’s so sweet,” she muttered and grinned at the Ava one on the next page as Bob sighed.

He wanted to show her the book, the one full of her because it didn’t sound like she’d be that mad but the gesture was intimate…it was so…vulnerable. He’d been keeping it secret for close to 6 months and no one knew, only Guinness who promised he wouldn’t say anything. But when he looked at Yelena, when he saw the smile on her face, the small cut on her cheek from the fight and the fact that her hair was a bit darker from unwashed dirt thanks to the mission, all bets were off. Bob sighed and grabbed the book, brushing off the front cover before slowly taking back the other one as Yelena raised a brow.

“For you…”

“Me?” she asked and grabbed it, opening it as Bob’s heart beat like he was running a marathon. “Are these drawings of me?”

“Only a few,” he muttered and Yelena eyed him and the thick book in her lap. “Sorry…I…I can’t help it. You’re easy to draw.”

“Really?” she asked and he nodded, flipping a few pages to his personal favourite. “Oh…Am I drinking tea?”

“Yeah,” Bob said and smiled at the sketch that was of Yelena sitting cross legged on a dining chair, a cup of tea in one hand and her head back, frozen mid laugh.

“I don’t drink tea.”

“No…you did, once.”

“When?”

“Ummm…three months ago…it was a sunday and I managed to convince Walker to make a Sunday brunch and he agreed. You didn’t want a mimosa because you hate orange juice so I made you tea and I think you liked it. You made that face, that mid laugh face and I remembered it so I sketched it later that evening.”

“Three months ago…”

“Yeah,” Bob muttered and didn’t get why she sounded so confused.

“You remembered all that from three months ago?”

“I did yeah, I really liked the moment so I wanted to hold onto it. Are you mad?”

“No…I’m not,” she muttered and Bob nodded.

“Okay…um…”

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“For remembering that.”

“Oh…no problem, I just really like doing it, you know. Remembering, it makes certain moments a lot easier. Whenever I feel like I’m going down some dark path I can look through the book, see you guys and know that I’m not alone, even when you’re out on missions.”

“I’ve never seen myself like this,” Yelena muttered and ran a hand along another sketch of her napping on Bob’s favourite chair. “I see myself as this Widow…this assassin…the team needs that, they want me to be there as their leader, keep them all safe and make all the decisions…but this…this doesn’t look like a Widow.”

“It looks like you,” Bob muttered and his heart rate picked up when he saw her blush.

“Yeah…it looks like me…”

“I like that you,” he added and tried to keep his voice level. “It’s kind.”

“Oh really? Kind?”

“Yeah…”

“You think I’m kind?”

“Yeah,” he agreed and her eyes widened. “Anyone who saves me is kind.”

“I didn’t save you cause I was being kind…I saved you because I needed to, what Valentina did…it was horrible.”

“Same with you?” Bob asked and her eyes widened that he’d just called her out.

“I guess yeah…Same with me.”

“Maybe we’re like Guinness,” he muttered and the guinea pig looked up at him. “Rejected test subjects.”

“Do you also love snuggles and celery?” Yelena quipped and Bob nodded.

“Yeah…they can be nice.”

Yelena smiled and walked off to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and grabbing the supplies before returning to Bob and shocking them both when she planted herself next to him on the chair. Bob blushed and tried to calm his heart as she showed off her snack haul which was nothing but a bag of celery and he chuckled.

“Really?”

“Eh…We both need it,” she muttered and he couldn’t argue with that logic, taking a stalk and biting down on it with a loud crunch as she chuckled. “Can I?”

“Can you what?” Bob asked but she did it before he could answer and snuggled in close, keeping herself pinned against his side that she was very happy to find was warm. “Yeah…y-you can.”

He cringed at the stutter but Yelena just chuckled and quietly munched on her celery, eyes heavy since the mission had been hard and things got hasty and dangerous like they always did. A bullet had gotten past Walker’s shield and got her in the arm, putting her out of commission and leaving the team without their leader as she tried to bandage herself up. She felt like she’d failed and didn’t even feel pain but went to medical anyway, not wanting to see any of them for the rest of the night and hoping they’d be asleep by the time she got back.

They were and Yelena wanted some hot chocolate, a childhood favourite when she spotted a cold mug of it and Bob asleep by the window, Guinness snuggled against his lap and a book next to him. She was always curious, so the book called to her and the drawings inside took her breath away in the best possible way. Bob was hiding his talents and she loved that he had found a hobby, something to keep himself busy while they were away.

Little did she know that that hobby was her, he loved drawing her and Yelena couldn’t even begin to describe the feeling in her chest upon seeing the second book. She wasn’t a picture person, never had been and she usually dipped whenever Alexei pulled out his old battered Polaroid but there was something different about a drawing, something more intimate. Bob made it with his own two hands, he put actual effort into it and she even noticed some closeups where he caught her scars from her childhood, exemplified by the soft lines of his sketches rather than hidden or covered like Valentina had suggested.

No one wants to see what your horrible childhood did to you, Val had said, not liking the scars one bit and always pointing out every last one.

But to Bob they weren’t a blemish…they were just her and she loved it.

When the team awoke the next morning, feeling better after their endeavour they caught the two of them still asleep in each other’s arms on that slouchy old lounge chair by the window. None of them disturbed them, they didn’t want to wake the budding lovebirds and every single one knew that they both needed the extra sleep.

For Bob was no longer alone in that old attic, sketching superheroes to come and save him, he was snuggled against his very own and the sun was shining upon them, basking them in the early morning light.

#thunderbolts*#mcu fanfiction #fanfic #marvel #marvel fanfic #bob reynolds #yelena belova #sketch #drawing #bob likes to sketch yelena #bob likes to draw #the guinea pig is also here #fluff #boblena #bob reynolds x yelena belova

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writingsofwesteros · 1 day ago

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Ok. I don't know if you'll write for him but...

Vaemond with Jace's younger twin, where instead of him making a big fuss about Luke being Lord of Tides, he just fucks Rhaenyra's pretty little daughter as revenge?

Can I please get a fic for this??

AN: Hi, I hope you like it x

NSFW

Vaemond’s brewing storm inside him had become a simmer now after his conversation with Corlys. He knew the battles to walk away from; and this was one of them, he thought to himself as his steps echoed against the cold floors of the red keep. His mind racing in his ears. The annoyance of the supposed realm’s delight only continued to course through his veins. The mere sight of those bastards had the Lord gritting his teeth all behind a polite smile under his brother’s watchful eye. But alas, his brother was nowhere in sight, Vaemond smirked at the thought as he only walked further into the keep. It seemed fate was on his side that night as the familiar dark locks caught his eye.

Oh, it seems this was his lucky day. The sight of Rhaenyra’s precious and only daughter brought a smirk to his face. It did not take long for a plan to form in his mind; it was Rhaenyra’s own fault for being such a whore and leaving her daughter unattended. “Princess,” Vaemond gently called out as he stepped into the alley; hidden from view. It was perfect. Her soft, dark eyes widened at the mere sight of him. “My Lord..” She was breathless already; just as if she was prey. To him - she was. Her eyes looked behind him; the broad shoulders of Vaemond blocking her exit. “I thought you would be with your mother,” Vaemond purred as he stalked closer, cornering her with ease.

“She is tending to the King,” the words fell from her lips without warning as Vaemond’s smirk only widened. A comment was on the tip of his tongue of how long Rhaenyra had stayed away from her dying father; but in the moment; he kept his silence. In those moments, all she could hear was her own heart beat. Daemon’s warnings of Vaemond whispered in her ear as the Princess stepped further into the secluded area. A mistake that the Lord pounced on. He followed her movements as the space between the both of them only lessened. Their brodies brushed against each other; the slight touch was enough for his cock to twitch in his breeches.

The way she looked at him from under those thick lashes of hers had Vaemond struggling to keep his composure. A smirk tugged on his lips as he realised this was his only chance. Such easy pickings the Princess before him was. “You are a beauty. It is such a shame.” Vaemond whispered mostly to himself. The flutter of confusion that came across her face only endeared her more to the Lord. “My Lord…” A soft gasp escaped her as the stone wall behind made contact with her back. Vaemond only followed; cornering her as his hand reached to gently brush a lock of her too dark hair behind her ears.

His free hand slowly captured her hip; pressing the Princess against the wall as he slowly leaned closer. Her soft, sweet looking breasts pressed against him as Vaemond’s hand only travelled further south. A shiver ran down her spine as she wiggled against him; seeking out a place for her to escape to. In her distraction, Vaemond slowly trailed his hand up the silk skirts of her dress; goosebumps easily moving over her soft skin. Two of his thicker fingers brushed over her soaked slit; a place her maids had touched once and it had been too much. Her hand instantly reached for his wrist as those big eyes of hers only widened even more.

Vaemond only chuckled at her reaction. “Oh – you are so wet,” he could not help but tease her cruelly. “No…no, please…” She whimpered; rocking against his fingers as he slowly swiped her sensitive clit with his thumb. The pink blush moved over her cheeks as her soft, plump lips parted with a whisper of his name. “Shhh, you do not want an audience, do you?” Vaemond could not help but tease some more as his fingers became slick with her wetness. The Princess shook her head; those widened eyes of hers never strayed from him. Her sweet, puffy lips spread apart as he slowly pushed one of his fingers deep inside.

Vaemond chuckled as the flash of pain and pleasure moved over her face as well as the shock of the new sensations he brought the Princess. “So fucking tight.” Gods, he could not even imagine how she would feel wrapped around his already leaking cock. Her more delicate hand still held onto him; once more to push him away. As punishment, Vaemond pressed a second finger inside her; the stretch so delicious as he watched her face flush pink. This time her noises could not be muffled as the Princess whined out. His fingers continued to move. His palm softly began to hit her clit with each thrust of his fingers; his movements only quickening.

The Lord slowly leaned closer; their noses brushing together before he lovingly captured her soft, plump lips. A soft gasp escaped the Princess and allowed his tongue to greedily move into her mouth. Her body melted against his chest as she seemingly surrendered completely to him, much to Vaemond’s delight. If he knew it was to be this easy; Vemond would have tried long before this. “Just like your mother.” He whispered his comment and enjoyed the look that came over the Princess’ face. In the distraction, Vaemond moved his own hand into his breeches. He cupped his throbbing cock and began to stroke himself. His movements match his own fingers stuffing her full.

Her head fell back against the cold wall; her body humming in desire that she had never thought possible. Or had thought about it at all. The Princess was lost within her own thoughts and did not notice Vaemond’s change in position. It was only when she whined at feeling so empty did she realise. His dark chuckles echoing in her ear at such a reaction. “I always knew you were a little slut.” Vaemond’s smirk only widened as he watched her shake her head. “Hmm, no?” He continued to tease as he pressed his leaking, mushroom head against her clit. “Listen.” There was no hiding from the wet, obscene noises her dripping pussy made.

Her struggling only continued at the feel of his leaking head brushing up and down; parting her puffy lips. “Shhh, there you go.” Vaemond purred as he slowly inched his cock inside her. Her wetness coating his thick length with ease. Still, the pain was present as his fat cock only stretched her some more. His free hand slowly moved to her stomach now; palm stretched and pressing down just to hear her squeal. And oh how she did. Slowly, Vaemond began to rock his hips; pushing deeper as she reached for his shirt. The buttons easily ripped as she whined out his name. Those big, doe eyes of hers welled with unshed tears.

Of pain or pleasure, Vaemond was not sure nor did he care. Not when she felt so good squeezing around his throbbing cock. The erotic sight before him had the Lord’s attention as a ring of cream formed easily around his thickness. His hand slowly reached for the back of her neck and forced the Princess to look. “Opening up for me so nicely, Princess.” Vaemond purred and watched in delight at the blush moving over her cheeks. Her eyes rolled back as his hand reached to cup her face; their lips meeting softer than he intended. Still, his thrusts quickened; his balls slapping against her as the sound of their bodies touching echoed.

Their tongues danced as she moaned against him; hands reaching for his shoulders now. As if to steady herself. “Please…” Vaemond only smirked at her words as her wetness dripped down his thick cock. Her thighs shook as his fat, mushroom head bullied the sweet spot he found as if he knew her body already. “Fuck, that’s it.” The Princess whimpered his name as his hand slowly began to travel south; his rougher fingers finding her sweet, sensitive clit. A new sensation of pleasure ripping through her now. His thumb swept across her before two of his fingers rubbed at her causing her to squeal and her body thrashed.

Vaemond struggled to thrust as she tightened around him. Her orgasm moved over her without warning as she gushed around his cock. His fingers only continued to move as her hand reached for his chest. She tried to push him away but his free hand reached for hers and pressed them above her head. He began to chase his own release; his thrusts only quickened now as his hand fell away from her sensitive clit. The Princess moaned as her leg wrapped around his waist; pulling him closer. Her body betrayed her mind as it followed its own instincts. The new position only allowed Vaemond to push deeper.

Gods, it was as if he was a young man again as the familiar tightening of his stomach came over him. A better man who removed himself from her but no, this Princess deserved her own bastard. Just as her mother had done. It helped that she was milking him. She wanted it just as much as he did, even if the Princess did not realise that. He flooded her with his cum; pressing deep and keeping himself there as she whined. Her body wiggled against him before he passionately captured her soft, plump lips once more. His hand slowly moved up the side of her body before palming at her breast; his thumb brushing over her pebbled nipple causing her to gasp against him. “Now, was that not nice?” Vaemond cruelly whispered as he finally removed himself; his cum slowly dripping down her inner thighs. The Lord could not remove his eyes from the sight as he placed his softening cock in his breeches. It seemed his Princess had the same problem; her mouth watering at the sight. His hand cupped her puffy, used pussy causing her to gasp; his cum and her wetness coating his fingers. “Was it nice?” The Lord repeated himself as the Princess could only nod her head; lips parted and eyes glazed still. His coated fingers soon found their home inside her hot mouth; pressing against her tongue as she drooled for him.

#hotd smut #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon fanfic #vaemond velaryon x reader #request

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ageingfangirl2 · 3 days ago

Text

Ran's Little Waitress (Tokyo Revengers - Bonten)

RAN HAITANI X FEMALE READER

CHAPTER NINE: FIRST SHIFT BACK

ONE TWO THREE FOUR FIVE SIX SEVEN EIGHT

Club – Ladies' Dressing Room – Early Evening

The chatter in the dressing room paused like someone had hit a mute button.

You step inside like a breeze, not a bruise in sight, your makeup flawless, hair bouncing with every step, and a soft smile playing on your lips as you carry a tray of taiyaki like nothing had happened.

‘Evening, ladies,’ you greet, voice light and warm as you set the tray on the side table, ‘I come bearing sweets and absolutely zero drama. Who missed me?’

The silence cracked first with a cough, then a few hesitant chuckles. One of the girls blinked and tilted her head, ‘…You’re back?’

‘Sure am,’ you say, casually slipping into your usual spot at the vanity, ‘Didn’t think you could get rid of me that easily, did you?’

A few of the girls exchanged glances—half stunned, half…impressed.

‘You look good,’ one finally said, ‘Like, really good.’

You give a little spin in your seat, ‘I figured if I was coming back, I might as well make an entrance,’ Then you lean forward, glancing around with a cheeky grin, ‘So. What did I miss? Who cried? Who got a sugar daddy? Tell me everything.’

The tension eased. The atmosphere turned warm again, if a bit cautious. You made sure to check in with the ones who had been kind to you before, asking how their shifts had been, complimenting their makeup or hair, genuinely connecting, like old times.

Club Floor

When you stepped onto the floor, the reaction was instant. Heads turned.

VIPs sat up a little straighter, a few of them smiling with open surprise. One waved her over with a grin, ‘Well, well, the club's been dull without you, sweetheart. Where’ve you been hiding?’

You let out a soft, flustered laugh, setting down the drinks with practised ease, ‘Oh, you know…top-secret spa retreat. Five stars. Very exclusive. You wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get a spot.’

The table laughed, with another VIP speaking up, ‘You should’ve told us. We’d have booked the whole place out.’

‘Tempting, but I needed the me time,’ you tease, smoothly pivoting the conversation, ‘Now, who’s ready for another round?’

You move from table to table with charm and grace, even slipping a taiyaki to one of the kinder regulars with a wink. And all the while, up in the VIP shadows, Ran watched with an unreadable expression.

You hadn’t lost your shine. If anything, you’d come back brighter.

The club pulsed with low music and ambient laughter as the night stretched on. You were just finishing your round near the back when you spot the tall figure leaning against the wall near the staff hallway—Ran, arms crossed, eyes following you like he had been waiting.

You approach without hesitation, tray tucked under your arm, a familiar soft smile already on your face, ‘You stalking your employees now, boss?’ you tease lightly, stopping in front of him.

Ran arched a brow, amused, ‘Just making sure no one else gets handsy tonight.’

You tilt your head, thoughtful, ‘Not tonight. They're all on their best behaviour.’

Without missing a beat, you reach into the small insulated pouch you’d kept under the bar and pulled out a small takeout container, ‘Here—still warm. Teriyaki. For Mikey.’

Ran blinked, ‘You made this?’

You nod, ‘Figured he might like something savoury. You said he’s upstairs, right?’

Ran accepted it with a curious glance down at the container, then back at you, ‘You’re not scared of him, huh?’

You shrug, ‘He helped me. That’s what I see.’

Ran studied you for a second longer before you pulled out a second small bag with a ribbon on it and handed it over.

‘Cookies for Rindou. I promised.’

Ran scoffed under his breath, ‘You’re spoiling us.’

‘Maybe,’ you say, grinning up at him, ‘or maybe I just know how to keep the big scary Bonten boys sweet enough to leave me alone.’

That earned you a rare, low chuckle.

As you turned to go, you pause, glancing over your shoulder, ‘Tell Mikey thank you. And let Rindou know if he wants fresh ones, he better stop stealing them out of your bag.’

Ran gave a slow nod, still watching you even after you disappeared into the club’s warm glow again—cookies in hand, the container still warm in his grip.

Upstairs Lounge

Mikey sat on the couch, hoodie pulled low over his head, attention half-lost in the muffled bass of the club below and the silence above. His foot tapped slowly, out of habit more than rhythm, until Ran dropped a small container onto the low table in front of him.

‘What’s that?’ Mikey asked, not looking up right away.

‘Teriyaki,’ Ran replied, sitting on the opposite couch, ‘From y/n.’

Mikey’s head tilted slightly, eyes focusing on the container with a flicker of interest, She made more?’

Ran gave a subtle nod.

‘She’s not scared of me?’ Mikey questions.

‘Nope,’ Ran replies cooly.

‘…She’s got good instincts,’ Mikey murmured.

He opened the container, sniffed once, then picked up a piece and bit into it. His eyes flicked up at Ran, ‘…This is good. Really good.’

Ran huffed a short laugh. ‘So I keep being told.’

Mikey leaned back, chewing slowly, ‘She’s different.’

Ran didn’t reply, but he didn’t disagree either.

Rindou stepped into the lounge like he owned it, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning until they landed on his brother.

‘You had cookies and didn’t share?’ he said immediately, pointing to the small bag beside Ran.

Ran smirked, tossing the bag at him, ‘She made them for you. Said it’s because you looked like you needed spoiling.’

Rindou opened the bag and took a bite, visibly impressed, ‘Yo, these slap.’

‘She said you could have more if you convince me to let her back to work, right? That’s why you messaged me when you were at hers.’

Rindou nearly choked, ‘That why you really caved?’

Ran rolled his eyes, ‘No. I caved because the floor manager was screwing with her pay and she still came back smiling.’

Rindou whistled low, ‘She’s tougher than she looks. And polite. Damn, I should’ve married her when she showed me that ice cream.’

Ran gave him a side-eye glare.

Rindou smirked knowingly, ‘Relax, bro. She’s sweet, not stupid. She’s got you wrapped around her little finger and doesn’t even know it.’

Ran muttered, ‘Eat your damn cookies.’

Rindou raised a brow, grinning as he took another bite, ‘Gladly.’

Staff Hallway – Mid-Shift

You had just stepped out of the dressing room with a tray of drinks balanced expertly in your hands when Ran appeared again.

You blink, surprised, then offered a small smile, ‘Here to haunt me again?’ you joke.

Ran tilted his head, a rare flicker of something amused in his expression, ‘Maybe. Mikey sent a message.’

Your brows lifted intrigued, ‘Oh?’

Ran stepped forward, lowering his voice slightly, ‘He said the teriyaki was amazing.’

You pause mid-step, then smile more brightly, touched in a way you hadn’t expected, ‘Really? He liked it?’

Ran nodded, ‘Didn’t say much. Just ate it all, said it was good. That’s high praise coming from him.’

You look genuinely pleased, the tension in your shoulders easing as you chuckle softly, ‘I wasn’t sure if he’d like more homemade stuff…I know I already gave him some as a thank you, but I’ll always owe him.’

Ran watched you a beat longer, ‘He doesn’t like many people. But he likes your baking.’

You blink at him, cheeks warming, clearly moved, ‘Then I’ll make more. Something sweet next time.’

Ran smirked, ‘If you keep baking for everyone in Bonten, you’ll have them all eating out of your hand.’

You laugh softly, already halfway down the hallway with your tray, ‘That’s the plan.’

Ran stared after you a moment longer before pulling out his phone to text Mikey.

She said she’ll make something sweet next time. Don’t get used to it.

Mikey replied simply:

Too late.

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thezombieprostitute · 2 days ago

Text

Tech Tuesday: Quarterly Updates

I don't have the energy for writing out a longer chapter, but I don't want to leave you all hanging, so I'm opting for a snippet for each pairing to give you an idea as to where each story is at.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Bucky & Sweetie:

Bucky holds your hand in the parking lot of The Mad Hatter. He and his friends have helped you prepare as best they can. Part of you knows you should wait until after you've calmed down from August's assault, but you know that you won't be able to rest until you've got an assured source of income for you and your brother.

"Don't worry, Sweetie," Bucky squeezes your hand. "You're gonna ace this interview. You're smart, skilled, and the queen of customer service."

That last part makes you snort laugh and you're rewarded by his face scrunching up in a smile.

"Do you want me to go in with you or wait out here?"

"You've already done so much, even just getting me the interview. I need to know I can do this without you giving Jefferson meaningful looks or additions or anything."

"I understand," he nods. He gives you a small kiss on the cheek. "You've got this."

Curtis & Heart

The alarms go off and you spring into action. Chase is coding, you think. No! Not Chase. It's just another patient!

You push down all of your fears, anxieties, and focus on the work that has to be done. The doctor instructs you to prep the epinephrine while he begins chest compressions.

The next several seconds feel like an eternity but all you can do is go through the motions. Treat him like any other patient. Follow the doctor's orders. You've done this hundreds of times, no need for this one to be any different.

When his heart finally starts beating again, there's a collective sigh of relief. But the relief gets cut short for you when look up and realize Chase is awake and looking right at you.

Geralt & God

The monthly competition is coming to a close. God has a demanding lead this time. He wants to play at what Geralt did last time he was in the lead and preemptively move the rubber ducky prize to his desk. But he will be a good sport and set a good example.

Besides, with D&D as a regular outlet, they've found themselves more relaxed in general. They've not only found a safe space with each other, but with others as well. It's been good for them.

Jake & Sunshine

You and Jake are sitting at the dining room table doing your weekly schedule and budget check-ins.

"I know the company is catering the picnic, but I still want to make up a few things in case the twins are feeling picky that day," you tell Jake.

"I'm sure the caterers won't be offended," he reassures you. "Plus, depending on what you bring, the G's might also partake."

"I hadn't thought of that! I should make up some buttered noodles, just in case."

"You know you don't have to cook for everyone, Sunshine," he gently smiles. He leans closer to you and caresses your cheek. "I'm a little worried about you overworking yourself."

"I promise I'm not," you shake your head. "I just...Luke and Leia are getting more independent and soon they'll be off to school. I've gotta readjust my energy or something. I'm used to being needed 24/7 but now..."

Jake moves his chair next to you and holds you. "For what it's worth, I definitely need you 24/7. I couldn't function without you."

"That goes for both of us," you answer with a kiss.

Jonathan & Rose

You feel like you're taking a risk tonight. It shouldn't feel like that. Jonathan certainly isn't the one making it feel like a risk. But you still feel like it is.

After the encounter with your work friends, you'd wanted to have a simple night in. Jonathan had acquiesced and the two of you planned a dinner date where you'd cook together and curl up on the couch watching a new movie.

Since the date was happening at your place, you decided to take a risk, and let yourself dress comfortably. Sweatpants and your favorite t-shirt. It shouldn't feel like you're taking a big step, it's just comfy clothes, after all. But Jonathan's only ever seen you in your nicer clothes. Ones that fit you well.

It feels unfair, too. He's so handsome he could wear a crop top and booty shorts and still look good. Meanwhile you're scared to look like anything less than perfect.

There's a knock at your door. Too late to change now, you think.

When you open the door, Jonathan is there in jeans and a t-shirt. He looks at what you're wearing and smiles. "You look gorgeous."

Johnny & Darkangel2000

Johnny Storm, TheHumanTorch69, whatever name he goes under he's still a pain. He's followed up on his part of the agreement. He's helped you with some really bad people.

But you can't stop thinking about him, and that's a problem.

You're not used to guys doing as they promised. Being understanding. Wanting to help. Part of you wants to take him up on his offer of doing more, but you just can't risk being betrayed again.

Elsewhere in the world, Johnny finds himself unable to sleep because he's worried about you getting caught, getting in trouble, or worse. He really wants to step in, but if he does, there will be consequences and he's not sure he can handle those.

Lloyd & Maestro

"Yellow," you manage to wheeze out.

Lloyd immediately stops and goes into care mode. "What's going on, Maestro? What do you need?"

"Water," you rasp.

Lloyd winces at the sound of your voice but quickly gets the bottle of water by the bed. He knows he's been overdoing it. He knows he's been pushing you to your limits, and maybe even a little beyond. But he still can't fully figure out why he's doing it. And that scares him.

He holds you in his arms and tips the water bottle so you can drink from it.

"There's my good girl," he coos. "Thank you for using the color system. I'm so happy you did." Given your previous encounters with doms who didn't respect the system or the safewords, he has been worried you'd just let him get away with anything, too scared to try to speak out. He wants to make sure you know it's okay and that he will respect it.

Now if only he could figure out why he's so insistent yet scared of pushing you away.

Mike & Boss Lady

"Oh, one more thing, before we're done with our weekly meeting?" Mike pleads. You nod your approval. "I know the end of the semester is coming up, and I'm supposed to have made a bunch of progress on this project but...um..."

"How far behind are you?" you raise an eyebrow. You're genuinely surprised. The meetings with Mike, meetings with the department about the database have all been going well.

"I'm not! I'm just...I'm...um...if I can..."

"Take a deep breath," you gently urge.

He does as instructed. "I was wondering if you'd be interested in keeping me for another semester? I know I've got the database going well, but I also know there's a lot more I can do with it."

You nod. "We'll have to confer with Pine and Syverson down in IT, but I certainly don't have any objections."

Mike smiles, relief written all over his face.

Ransom & Bubbles

The car is silent. Ransom isn't sure where you're taking him, but he's not about to ruin what little progress he's made by speaking.

Well, he might have tried talking if only you weren't angrier than he's ever seen you. Come to think of it, he can't remember any time he's seen you angry. He's not sure how to react other than to let you take the lead.

The car pulls into a parking lot next to a small building with a sign that says "Community Mental Health" on it. You pull up to the entrance and park the car before turning to Ransom.

"I've accepted the apology, but you've not yet earned the forgiveness." Ransom nods, understanding. "Forgiveness is going to take a lot of work. And you're going to start by going into that building and setting up an appointment with a therapist."

Ransom's eyes widen a little. He looks so scared but you know this has to happen.

"For months now I've been pushing you to get a therapist. You've made a lot of progress, but you need professional help, just like I did. Just like I still do. This place does income-based payment for sessions, so no complaining that you can't afford it."

Ransom wants to run, panic, get away. He knows he needs the therapy, but actually doing it is something else.

Steve & Newbie

You and Steve are enjoying a picnic date at the local park. You're sat against a tree while he's laying on the ground, head in your lap. He's the picture of happiness with that dopey grin every time you run your fingers through his hair.

"Our friends have been having an interesting time," you comment.

Steve nods. "Bucky's girl is doing better, by the way."

"That's good," you sigh. "And Bubbles is ready to bite Nick's head off."

Steve chuckles. "I'm actually looking forward to seeing that. I know I'm not allowed to just throw punches, I'm just there in case things get out of hand, but still. It's gonna be quite a show."

"Thanks, again, for helping her out."

"That's what friends are for."

Syverson & Darling

"I've got you, Darlin'," Sy says, trying to console you.

Another negative pregnancy test. Another wave of crippling self-doubt. Certain you're everything your family said you were.

"How can you still want me?" you manage to ask between breaths.

Sy cups your chin and gently pushes your face up to look at him. "Because you're still the most amazing, intelligent, beautiful woman in the world. And I'm the luckiest man on earth because I get to call myself your husband."

His tone, his look, leave no room for argument. You know he means it when he says it. But that black pool of doubt runs deep, tempering your response to his earnestness.

You cuddle up with him, tears still coming, and just whimper, "I hope you're right."

Walter & Spitfire

The couch was delivered about a week after you'd bought it. Walter had helped you clean get rid of the old one and clean up your apartment to make sure the movers had the space they needed. Or as much as they could get from your shoebox sized apartment.

Thankfully the movers were professionals and had everything under control. You can't even imagine all the weird architecture they've likely encountered.

As soon as they're out the door, you look at Walter. "Ready to help me test this thing out?"

"Got a long weekend to do so," he chuckles. "How do you want to start?"

You consider for a minute before telling him, "we're going to order some delivery so we can test out that anti-staining crap they sold me on." Walter nods and you get close, pulling on his sweater so his face is level with yours. "And while we're waiting, we're going to see how much weight and force this thing can actually handle."

"Yes, ma'am," he grins.

Tech Tuesdays Masterlist

Tagging @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @ellethespaceunicorn; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory; @kmc1989;

@late-to-the-party-81; @lokislady82; @ozwriterchick; @peyton-warren; @ronearoundblindly; @stellar-solar-flare

#tech tuesday #bucky barnes #curtis everett #geralt of rivia #god the bounty hunter #jake jensen #jonathan pine #johnny storm #lloyd hansen #hellraiser!mike #ransom drysdale #steve rogers #syverson #walter marshall

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the-jason-todd-murder-weapon · 3 days ago

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I will admit that the going to hell for his kids thing is a good parenting thing he did but uh. The rest of this is literally just either a. What any parent should be doing or b. What any good superhero should do. I think the post you were responding to is more talking about the fact that Bruce has been shown and written as abusive- intentional or not- for a very long time. He victim blames a child for dying, and then takes him to the same place he died in an attempt to force him into a panic attack to save Damian when Jason states he would have told him what he knew without that, he barely views one of his kids as human and doesn’t even really care about helping her learn to read. DAVID CAIN was happier seeing cass be free then bruce ever was, and he is almost consistently emotionally abusive to all of his kids. you cannot look at bruce as a character and just ignore all of the abuse he puts his children through because it’s “out of character” when it’s been happening consistently, to say he “does nothing but try and protect” is also blatantly wrong. Bruce has beat up petty criminals who resorted to stealing to survive to the point of them needing to be hospitalized multiple times, and yeah, sure you can argue that it was the grief for Jason that caused that but bruce is a grown man who chose to put himself into a position of power where the only people who can punish him are other superheroes, if grief is all it takes for him to do that then he shouldn’t be a hero, plain and simple.

i keep on seeing this post that’s like what if one of the batkids hit bruce and the gist is that we’re supposed to feel bad for bruce about it but come on. if any one of the batkids hit bruce they would be objectively correct to do so. he could be minding his own damn business eating breakfast and any one of them could walk up and punch him clean across the jaw and i would be cheering them on the whole time. even if he isn’t doing anything to earn it in this moment he has certainly done something to deserve it in the past. i bet it feels good as hell to belt bruce wayne across the face.

#Saying that people are ignoring his good traits just to shit on him just like. Isn’t true most of the time #and if that’s really all you can think about when you see posts like this I suggest you block the anti Batman and anti bruce Wayne tags #Also no hate to the person I’m reblogging!!#I just don’t like it when people act like he can’t be critiqued #anti bruce wayne

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blazepanda17 · 2 days ago

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Thoughts on THT 6x10.

I know some aren’t planning to watch it so take this with a grain of salt as it’s just one person’s opinion. Overall, I do think it was a good call for me to watch the episode for a sense of closure, but I get it if some might be too frustrated to watch it at all at this point.

-first of all, to those who were in denial, the plane absolutely blew up and lawrence and nick are dead dead. Sorry…

-the time jump was a bit confusing but makes sense narratively

-within the first 5 minutes there’s a flashback montage of June remembering Nick and his moments of loving her, but that seems to be the extent of her remorse or sadness for the rest of the show (no tears in sight from her but definitely from me!)

-after this montage she mentions in a voiceover, “God always requires a sacrifice” and remembers Lawrence with his hand over his heart.

-Luke has gone full Mayday and honestly good for him. He was never my favorite character but I respect this growth and I’m glad he’s able to finally do something and feel good about it considering he always seemed so disappointed by how little he could do in Canada. (Him and June don’t end up together by the way)

-Janine is apparently missing, but Tuello works on finding her.

-Tuello mentions Mckenzie has been promoted and hannah has moved with them to DC.

-we get some Tuello backstory! He mentions he has a son who lives with his ex-wife in Hawaii. “When I close my eyes, I see them. And I get back to work.” 😭

-There are a couple of flashbacks of June with Hannah at the carnival. Not hugely significant, but relate to the overall message that she will never give up on finding her.

-June talks with Serena and this scene was rough for me… June praises Serena saying none of it (taking back Boston) would have happened without her. Serena responds, “I have become death, destroyer of worlds. Guess I’ve helped boston fall twice now.” (She’s really not beating those god complex allegations anytime soon.) Serena then says she’s very sorry about Nick (“may his memory be a comfort and a blessing to you always”) to which June responds, “Nick reaped what he sowed. He lead a violent and dishonest life, so..” (seriously june?🤮) And serena responds again, “you know if he ever thought he had a real choice, he would’ve chosen you.” I’m having a hard time reading June’s reaction to that line? The cognitive dissonance is strong with this one here I think.

-Serena is then put on a bus to a refugee camp. She’s stressed about not having a passport or having a safe place to go. Tuello plans to get her a passport and says “I’ll find you.” To which Serena seems happy and smiley. (How dare they get the ambiguous and hopeful ending?!?!!!)

-Serena tearfully says goodbye to June saying she’s ashamed and sorry for what she did. And June tells her she forgives her….. I know they’ve been foreshadowing this for a while but dang it’s frustrating to watch HER of all people get the forgiveness, but she couldn’t extend an ounce of that to Nick??

-EMILY IS BACK!!!! That was a very beautiful moment. She had been working out of Bridgeport as a Martha and working with the resistance. And was still in contact with Sylvia and Oliver (facetiming him on his birthday💗). Emily and June walk along the wall and there’s a beautiful shot of the wall all graffitied with women’s names.

-THE KARAOKE SCENE😭😭 it was absolute perfection!!! I was dying to have something like this in the finale. Janine, June, Emily, Moira, Rita, ALMA, AND BRIANA sing and dance together to Landslide (one of my favorite songs too🥲). It’s clearly meant to be a daydream scene since Janine has both eyes haha but still so so so beautiful!!! (If you watch nothing but that scene, I recommend it highly)

-They found Janine and she gets returned to the Americans. (June is there) Naomi returns Charlotte to Janine 😭 (another very tearful moment for me). June says to Aunt Lydia “blessed is the woman who does not walk in stride with the wicked” as their farewell.

-Holly sr and Holly jr fly in from Alaska with other Americans. There’s a sweet scene of the three of them hugging.

-June has a moment cuddling Holly jr where she says she has a job to save the other little girls in Gilead and she has to leave Holly jr with her grandma so she can go off for Hannah.

-June has a moment with her mom at the boston globe wall where they talk about her going off to fight and leaving Holly jr behind. June says that her mom is the one who taught her to fight and Holly sr encourages her to write a book so her daughters can know her story. From Holly sr: “This is the story for people who may never find their babies, the people who will never ever give up trying. This is the story for them.”

-Luke and June also have a moment to say goodbye. He’s moving on with Mayday to keep fighting. June says she underestimated him. June tells him she’s going with Mark to keep looking for Hannah and they’ll meet up after. (June and moira don’t say goodbye this episode but Luke implies that Moira is going with Mayday too.) Luke also tells her to write her escape story and says that “you had people who helped you like Janine, and Emily, and Lawrence, … and Nick. People who loved you. People who you loved. They’re all worth remembering.”

-Serena’s final moment is rough for me again. She’s in a refugee camp hugging Noah and saying that he is her “most precious gift from god.” Going on and on about how much she prayed to have a child and how he’s all she needs. It’s beautifully acted by Yvonne, BUT, the message I take from this is that Serena thinks it’s all worth it. All of Gilead, all the horrors she wrote into law and inflicted on people were worth it because she got a son. Ugh I hate that she of all people gets this beautiful ending with no real reckoning for what she has done to people. She gets to join the refugees and be just like the rest of them.

-In the final scene, June revisits the burned down waterford house and climbs up to her old room. (The choice to put her in a teal coat is a strange one imo…). She ends the series by pulling out a tape recorder and starts telling her story. I appreciated the nod to the historical notes in the book.

Lmk what you thought of the episode! I’m so ready to move on from this show lol.

#tht s6 spoilers #osblaine

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charliedawn · 4 hours ago

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WELCOME TO THE LOSERS’ CLUB Eddie Munson x Reader

Synopsis: A promise between you and Eddie to graduate together turned into a full-on pledge. You then got closer than you thought you would and suddenly, you realised that you had more in common than you thought you did. And from two people with not a lot to look forward to—you became so much more. A friends to lovers story.

The hallway behind the gym was quiet, except for the low buzz of a flickering light overhead and the occasional hum of wind outside. Eddie hadn’t meant to be there—he’d ducked out of class to avoid one of the infamous pop quizzes of Mr. Grant and was making his usual rounds when he spotted you, curled up near the lockers with your arms wrapped around your knees, shoulders trembling.

He froze.

You were in his English class. Sat two rows in front of him. Quiet, a little weird—his kind of weird—but not someone he really knew. You’d always seemed pulled together, thoughtful. He liked that about you. But now? You were a wreck. Shoulders shaking, face buried in your arms, sobs barely muffled. It stopped him cold. Eddie hesitated, thumb grazing the chain on his belt as he stood at the corner. It’s not your business, he told himself. She probably wants to be left alone. People cry. People cry all the time. That’s…normal, right?

But then he remembered the way you always stayed after class to help clean up the chalkboard. How you loaned your extra pen to whoever needed it, even if they never gave it back. How you smiled—soft and quick—when his D&D jokes landed in homeroom.

And that was enough to make him sigh and mutter, “Ah, screw it.”

He sat down beside you, back to the lockers, leaving a bit of space between you. “Hey,” he said with a smile. “What’s going on, superstar?”

You couldn’t answer. You didn’t even look at him. Your breath was stuttering, hands clenched into your jacket like you were trying to hold yourself together with sheer force. Tears streamed down your cheeks without stopping, and your lip trembled every time you tried to speak, but nothing came out.

Eddie swallowed. “Okay. No words. That’s cool.”

He glanced around. Still no one else in sight. Where were the nice responsible adults when you needed them?! He shifted a little closer, slow enough not to spook you, then reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a crumpled band tee—clean, thankfully—and offered it to you like a tissue. “It’s not fancy, but it’s absorbent.”

You didn’t take it, but the act alone made something in your sobs hitch. Eddie leaned back against the lockers with a sigh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I, uh…I’m not good at this,” he admitted. “Feelings and, like, comforting and—yeah. But you’re in my class, and you don’t…you don’t look like yourself right now.”

Your shoulders kept trembling, but the sobs were softer now. Less choked.

Eddie looked at you, his expression open and real. “I don’t need to know everything. But I’m here. Okay? If you wanna talk or…not talk. That’s cool too.”

And for the first time, you nodded. Barely.

But it was enough. Eddie stayed quiet, just watching you through his tangled curls, fingers tapping lightly against his knee like a drum beat waiting to start.

Finally, your voice broke through the silence. “…I just received my grades this semester. They suck. Big time.”

Your voice wavered at the end, like just saying it out loud made it worse. You didn’t dare look at him. You stared at the floor, at your shoes, at anywhere that wasn’t his face, because if he looked at you with anything like contempt or mockery, it might actually break you.

But he didn’t scoff. Didn’t laugh. Didn’t say some sarcastic joke to ease the tension.

He just let out a long breath, slow and thoughtful. “Shit,” he finally uttered. “Yeah. That’ll do it.”

You sniffed and wiped your sleeve under your nose, finally peeking at him.

Eddie glanced sideways at you, one brow raised. “So, what, you’re flunking out of school now? Gonna run off and join a biker gang? ’Cause if so, I call dibs on being your weird sidekick who talks too much and somehow makes things worse.”

Despite yourself, your lips twitched.

Eddie caught it and leaned in slightly, his voice softer. “Hey. I know that feeling, okay? I’ve repeated senior year more times than I care to admit. I’ve had teachers give up on me mid-sentence. And yeah, it sucks. But grades? They’re not the whole story.”

You shook your head, shoulders drooping again. “They are when your parents think school is all that matters.”

Eddie winced in sympathy. “Ah. The ol’ parental approval gauntlet. Brutal.”

For a moment, you just sat in silence again. Then Eddie nudged your elbow with his. “You wanna know a secret?”

You sniffed. “What?”

He smiled. “My first semester back? I failed everything except woodshop. And the only reason I passed that was ‘cause I accidentally built something cool while trying to make a sword rack.”

You looked at him, actually looked at him, eyes red but curious.

Eddie grinned. “Dead serious. Mr. Callahan gave me a C out of confusion. Thought I was finally trying. I wasn’t. I just didn’t want my sword collection on the floor.”

A weak laugh escaped you, and Eddie beamed like he’d just won a prize.

“There it is,” he grinned and nudged you. “I knew I could make you smile again.”

You wiped your face with the edge of your sleeve again, a bit steadier now. “Thanks, Eddie.”

He shrugged like it was no big deal, then stood and offered you his hand. “Come on. You need a break. I know a vending machine that owes me a free Snickers.”

You chuckled. “…It owes you?”

He rolled his eyes playfully. “I may have gently assaulted it once—with my foot. But I REALLY wanted that Snickers and the damn thing stole my money and I was forced to walk away 1 dollar poorer and with no sweet treat to mend my broken soul.”

You laughed again—more than a breath this time. And when you took his hand, he grinned so big it reached his eyes.

“See?” he said. “That’s more like it.”

You ended up absolutely vandalising the vending machine. Eddie kept lookout while you popped the panel loose with a ruler, then he helped you fish out a bounty of chocolate bars, chips, and two Cokes. He let out a gleeful little, “Oh hell yeah,” like a kid on Christmas morning.

By the time you were halfway down the wooded path towards Skull Rock, the two of you were already munching on stolen gains, your backpack stuffed like a trick-or-treat haul.

“You’re actually like—so awesome,” Eddie declared around a mouthful of peanut M&Ms. “A straight-up criminal mastermind. If I wasn’t already in love with danger, I’d be terrified.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was real this time. “You’re the one who told me to skip class and rob a vending machine.”

He grinned and shrugged. “I encouraged emotional healing. The robbery was a bonus.”

The trees opened up to the familiar clearing near Skull Rock—just moss, cool stone, and the sound of birds and wind. You dropped your bag and flopped down in the grass with a dramatic groan, arms stretched wide to the sky.

Eddie sat beside you, legs crisscrossed, and offered you a Snickers bar like it was a peace offering. “For surviving the semester. Barely.”

You took it with a small nod. “Barely.”

For a while, you both sat in comfortable silence, chewing and listening to the trees. You still felt a little hollow inside—but it wasn’t as sharp anymore. It was manageable.

Eddie nudged your shoulder. “Hey. Just so you know…you’re allowed to fail sometimes. Doesn’t make you any less smart or any less awesome.”

You blinked at him. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me today.”

He smirked. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises. Like a vending machine. Except cooler. And with more tattoos.”

You snorted. “And louder.”

He laughed, tossing his empty wrapper over his shoulder. “Guilty.”

And as you leaned back against the rock, the weight on your chest a little lighter now, you felt the edges of something warm and good beginning to form.

Maybe failing a semester sucked.

But ditching school with Eddie Munson?

That was definitely an A+ decision.

You watched him as he lay back in the grass, one arm slung behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. His wild curls were haloed by sunlight breaking through the trees, his leather jacket slightly bunched under his shoulders, and the remnants of chocolate smeared at the corner of his mouth.

He looked so…at ease. Like the world wasn’t completely a big smelly ditch of garbage. You hesitated a moment, then said it before you could talk yourself out of it.

“Say Eddie…Do you have a best friend, or could I fill up that position?”

Eddie turned his head towards you slowly, his expression unreadable for a beat. Then his brow arched, and he gave a little huff of breath—like the question had caught him so off guard, he wasn’t sure whether to laugh or get serious.

“You wanna be MY best friend?” he asked, like it was some kind of sacred title.

You shrugged, playing it off. “I mean, unless the position’s taken. In which case, I can just be the co-pilot or emotional support cryptid.”

Eddie didn’t answer at first. He just sat up, resting his elbows on his knees, looking at you for real this time.

“No one’s ever really asked me that,” he admitted and rubbed the back of his neck. “Usually people avoid the title altogether when it comes to Munson. Too loud. Too weird. Too much.”

You sat up too, mirroring him.

“I like too much,” you shot back. “Too much is honest. Too much sticks around.”

Eddie blinked a few times, like your words short-circuited something inside him. Then he gave a crooked smile—genuine, soft.

“Alright,” he agreed, holding out his hand like you were shaking on some sacred pact. “Best friend it is. But fair warning, you just signed yourself up for late-night D&D rants, mixtapes of bands you’ve never heard of, and me sending you way too many notes during class.”

You took his hand and shook it with mock solemnity. “I accept the risks.”

He grinned. “Good. ‘Cause I think we’re gonna be so damn awes—uh…” He caught himself, clearing his throat, suddenly sheepish. “I think we’re gonna be something really cool.”

And you genuinely smiled for the first time all day. Because even if your grades were falling apart, even if everything else felt out of control, right now? You had Eddie Munson. And that felt like something worth keeping.

…

You sat there beside him, warm sun filtering through the trees, the remnants of your vending machine heist scattered around like candy-coated proof of rebellion. And for a second, you thought about letting it all go—the stress, the pressure, the weight of disappointing everyone.

But then something clicked.

Maybe it was Eddie’s grin. Maybe it was the way the forest didn’t care about letter grades. Or maybe it was just that, for once, someone believed in you. You straightened your spine, wiped the last tear off your cheek with the back of your hand, and looked him dead in the eyes.

“You know what? I’m not doing this again. I refuse to fail this year.”

Eddie blinked. “Yeah?”

You nodded firmly. “Yeah. And since we’re both honorary members of the Losers’ Club now—congrats, by the way—I say we make a deal.”

He perked up, smirking. “A deal, huh? Do I need to sign something in blood? I’ve got a paperclip.”

You grinned despite yourself. “No blood needed. Just commitment. We’re both getting through this year. Together. No flunking, no repeats, no dragging our sorry asses back into this hellhole next September.”

Eddie let out a low whistle, then held out his pinky. “You’re serious.”

You locked yours with his without hesitation. “Dead serious.”

He chuckled, eyes wide like he was half-impressed, half-terrified. “Damn, alright. Look at you. Swearing vengeance on academic failure like some kind of study-warrior.”

You smiled, firm and fierce now. “Someone has to. And if I’m going down, I’m dragging you out of the fire with me, Munson. No one’s getting left behind.”

He mock-saluted you. “Aye, captain. Guess I’ll have to start showing up to class.”

You elbowed him lightly. “That’d be a good start.”

And just like that, something shifted between you. You weren’t alone in the mess anymore. Neither was he. It wasn’t just about surviving school anymore. It was about winning your ticket out—together.

A few days later:

You and Eddie carved out a little study nook at the back of the library—textbooks, notes, and half-empty soda cans strewn across the table like war trophies. At first, Eddie was all fire and excitement, spitting out facts and making wild guesses. But as the hours dragged on, frustration crept in. His brow furrowed, fingers tapping erratically on the table.

“Fuck this,” he muttered, voice tight. “I’m never gonna get it.”

You shot him a look. “Hey, don’t say that. You’re doing better than you think.”

He slammed his fist down on the table with a sharp crack, making both of you jump.

“I’m sick of failing,” he hissed. “Sick of feeling dumb.”

You didn’t hesitate. Before he could pull away, you pulled him into a tight hug, arms wrapping around him like a shield.

“Look,” you said softly, voice steady, “it’s okay to be pissed. It’s okay to be scared. But quitting? That’s not us. Not anymore.”

Eddie’s breath hitched. For a moment, he just held onto you. Then he pulled back just enough to look you in the eyes. “You really think I can do this?”

You smiled, wiping a stray curl from his forehead. “Hell yes. And I’m not letting you quit. Not now. Not ever.”

He laughed—a broken, relieved sound. “Guess I got stuck with a hell of a best friend.”

“Lucky me,” you confirmed, squeezing his shoulder. You both smiled and got back to work.

…

The day of the English quiz, you could practically feel Eddie vibrating with anxiety in the seat next to you. He kept bouncing his leg under the desk like it owed him money, whispering little pep talks to himself and scribbling band logos on the corners of his table.

You nudged his foot with yours. “You’ve got this.”

He gave you a quick glance, eyes wide. “If I fail this, I’m staging a dramatic funeral in the parking lot. Bury me next to the vending machine we robbed.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “We studied every night this week. If anything, you’ll ace this and resurrect me when I fail math.”

“Deal,” he whispered, grinning.

When the quizzes were passed out, the room went quiet except for the sound of pages flipping and pencils scratching. Eddie froze for half a second when he saw the first question—but then he exhaled slowly, just like you taught him, and started writing…

After class, the two of you waited near the lockers, both pretending you didn’t care about the results—but every few seconds, Eddie glanced toward the classroom like a kid waiting to be called for candy.

Then, finally, Ms. O’Donnell stepped out into the hall and handed each of you a paper.

You stared at yours.

B+ Clean, sharp red ink.

Eddie held his quiz in front of his face like it might explode. Then slowly, dramatically, he lowered it to reveal a goofy, stunned smile.

“We didn’t fail,” he whispered.

You gasped. “We didn’t fail.”

And without thinking, you both threw your arms around each other, jumping a little like you’d just won the lottery.

“Holy shit,” he said into your hair. “We’re legends. We’re passing legends.”

You pulled back, laughing. “I’m gonna frame this. I swear to God, it’s going on my fridge forever.”

Eddie looked down at his quiz, then crumpled it just slightly and tucked it into his back pocket with a smug smirk. “Nah. I’m gonna eat mine. Like a warrior devours his fallen enemies.”

You burst out laughing.

Victory had never tasted so sweet.

…

The week kept rolling, and the two of you were actually making progress. Notes were getting neater, test scores were inching higher, and for once, it didn’t feel like dragging your brains through glass just to survive a school day. You and Eddie were sitting in the back of class, exchanging scribbled notes and under-the-table kicks while the teacher droned on about iambic pentameter.

Then, out of nowhere, he leaned over and whispered, “Hey…you wanna come back to my trailer after class?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—yeah. Sure. For more studying?”

He shrugged, grinning. “Sure. Something like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, but didn’t press. Maybe he just wanted to unwind with a movie or rant about Hamlet again. After the bell rang, the two of you made your way to the edge of town, feet crunching on gravel and the wind tugging at your jacket. His trailer was exactly what you imagined—chaotic, mismatched furniture, band posters covering every inch of wall, and the lingering scent of old incense and motor oil.

You dropped your backpack on the couch and turned to him. “So, are we hitting the books again?”

Eddie plopped down in the armchair, pulled open a small tin from under the coffee table, and grinned up at you with a raised brow. “Actually…I was thinking something a little more chill. You ever smoked weed before?”

You froze.

That…was not where you thought this was going.

Your mouth opened, then closed again. “Uh. No. Not really.”

Eddie held up his hands. “Hey—no pressure. Just figured, y’know, we’ve been grinding so hard lately, maybe you deserved a break. A fun break.”

You hesitated, looking around the messy but oddly cozy living room. His guitar sat propped against the wall, and there was a half-finished D&D map spread across the table, dice still mid-roll. He looked calm, casual—but his eyes stayed locked on yours, checking to see where you stood.

“…You trying to corrupt me, Munson?” you asked finally, half-teasing.

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

You hesitated. “Doesn’t that shit mess with your brains or something though? You know we got the finals coming up, right?”

Eddie paused, lighter in one hand, the joint in the other, just hovering midair like time had slowed. He looked at you—clearly taken aback. The hesitation in your voice, the furrow between your brows, the weight of every grade and deadline still clawing at your shoulders. You really were serious about succeeding, huh? He smiled and nodded.

“…Yeah,” he admitted, setting everything down on the coffee table. “Yeah, you’re right.”

You blinked. “Wait—what?”

He leaned back in the chair, arms draped over the sides, giving a soft, almost embarrassed shrug. “I mean, I wanted to chill for a bit, yeah. Blow off steam. But you’re not wrong. Finals are breathing down our necks, and maybe I don’t need to make my brain any fuzzier than it already is.”

You sat beside him on the couch, still watching him like you were waiting for the punchline.

“But I thought you didn’t care,” you said. “About school, about any of this.”

“Yeah, well…maybe I didn’t. Before.” He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. “But then you showed up. Crying mess. Telling me you wanted to become my best friend at Skull Rock. Telling me you didn’t want to fail. And suddenly I got this stupid little voice in my head that sounds like you telling me to keep going.”

You blinked, stunned for a second. “…You’ve got a voice in your head that sounds like me?”

“Yep,” he said with a crooked grin. “Bossy. Determined. Kind of terrifying.”

You laughed, leaning back against the cushions, that strange ache in your chest softening just a little.

“Well,” you started, “if you’re going to hear my voice in your head anyway, you might as well listen when it says get your ass back to studying.”

Eddie groaned dramatically, flopping over the arm of the chair like he was dying. “Nooo. God, you’re relentless.”

You smirked. “Damn right.”

And just like that, the joint stayed unlit, the books came back out, and the two of you got back to the grind. Because somewhere between failure and finals, a pact had been made.

And neither of you were breaking it now.

He then said. “But if we both pass…we get that weed pot session, m’kay?”

You looked up from your notes, blinking slowly. “…Weed pot session?”

Eddie grinned, unabashed. “Yeah, y’know. Classic celebratory stoner tradition. We pass finals, we roll up like kings and queens of Hawkins High.”

You tried to hold back a laugh. “Did you just say weed pot session like a 45-year-old undercover cop?”

He clutched his chest like you’d wounded him. “I am offended. Deeply. Mortally. This is why I need the weed—to recover from your emotional violence.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Fine. Deal. If we both pass…we’ll light one up. One. And you have to teach me how so I don’t look like a total idiot.”

Eddie pointed a dramatic finger at you. “Swear it. Swear on the vending machine we vandalized.”

You extended your pinky. “I swear on stolen Cheetos and empty cans.”

He hooked his pinky with yours, solemn for a moment. “Then it’s a pact.”

You paused, watching him with a little smile tugging at your lips. “You know…I really think we’re gonna do it.”

Eddie leaned back, arms behind his head, grinning like he owned the world. “Hell yeah, we are. Finals don’t stand a chance.”

And in that little bubble of scribbled notes, bad jokes, and big promises, the weight of failure didn’t feel so heavy anymore.

It felt like hope. With a dash of weed waiting at the finish line.

…

A month later

The hallway was packed, bodies shoving and voices rising like a tide as the list was finally taped up to the bulletin board outside the front office. Paper fluttered, students crowded in, the weight of an entire year pressing down on everyone’s shoulders.

You stood with Eddie, your heart hammering like a snare drum. Neither of you said anything. You both just stared at the crowd, too nervous to move.

Then, finally, you both pushed forward.

You weren’t even looking for your own name. Your eyes scanned for his. Eddie Munson. Munson, Munson…

There it was. He passed.

At the exact same second, Eddie gasped. “You passed!”

Your head snapped around, eyes wide, both of you frozen for half a heartbeat.

And then you exploded.

“YOU PASSED!” you shouted, grabbing him by the vest.

“YOU PASSED!” he hollered back.

You threw your arms around him in the middle of the chaos, and he spun you once—right there in the hallway, surrounded by shrieks and slaps of paper and the smell of bad cologne and sweat-soaked anxiety. You were both laughing like idiots, breathless and half in shock.

“We did it,” he whispered into your shoulder.

You nodded against him. “We really did.”

He pulled back to look at you, hands still holding your arms, eyes wide. “You know what this means, right?”

“…We never have to hear O’Donnell say the word symbolism again?”

“Well, yes. But also—” He grinned. “Weed pot session. Tonight. Your place or mine?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop smiling. “I swear, if you ever say ‘weed pot session’ again, I’m taking my diploma and shoving it into your mouth.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “That’s fair. That’s completely fair.”

You both started walking down the hall, still in disbelief, shoulders bumping together, already making plans for the most triumphant night of your high school careers.

An hour later

Eddie pushed open the door to the trailer, the scent of cigarette smoke and coffee hitting you instantly. The soft hum of a baseball game crackled from the radio in the corner, and there—seated in his usual recliner—was Wayne Munson. He didn’t look up right away, just sipped from his mug and muttered without turning his head:

“So? Did you get it?”

Eddie froze in the doorway like a deer caught in a headline. You, just behind him, gently bumped his back with your bag.

“Well?” Wayne asked again. “You pass?”

There was a beat. And then Eddie took a step forward, his voice cracking around the words:

“…Yeah. I got it.”

Wayne looked up then, brow furrowed. “Got it?”

Eddie nodded, then let the paper—his results—slip from the back pocket of his jeans and hand it over. Wayne took it without a word. His eyes scanned it slowly, quietly. You stood awkwardly in the background, watching the back of Eddie’s tense shoulders.

Wayne set the paper down on his lap.

“Hot damn,” he finally said and smiled. “You passed. You actually passed.”

Eddie let out a noise that was halfway between a laugh and a shocked exhale. “Yeah. Yeah, I did. We did.”

Wayne glanced over at you, offering a small nod that was more than just polite—it was grateful. “Guess I owe you thanks, too. I know my boy here didn’t do that on his own.”

Eddie sputtered. “Hey!”

You grinned. “He did most of the heavy lifting. I just, y’know, yelled at him a lot.”

Wayne chuckled, then stood, setting his mug down. He walked over and clapped a hand on Eddie’s shoulder. It wasn’t much—but it made Eddie’s throat tighten and his eyes dart towards the floor like he didn’t want you to see them gloss over.

“I’m proud of you,” Wayne said, firm and sincere. “Really.”

Eddie cleared his throat, still not meeting his uncle’s eyes. “Yeah, well…let’s not get mushy or anything, old man.”

Wayne smirked. “Too late.”

And with that, he grabbed his keys. “I’ll give you two some space. Don’t trash the place. And for god’s sake, don’t light anything on fire.”

Eddie gave a mock salute. “No promises.”

Wayne gave you one last look before heading out. “Thanks again, kid.”

The door shut behind him, leaving a strange, warm silence in his wake. You turned to Eddie, who was suddenly standing there with his arms crossed, looking like he wasn’t sure what to do next.

“…So,” you said. “About that weed pot session?”

Eddie grinned. “I thought you’d never ask.”

The weed was already rolled—of course it was. Eddie had that joint ready like it was a sacred artifact, placed delicately on a scratched-up vinyl record next to a dented lighter. The trailer was dim now, the sun dipping low outside, washing everything in soft amber. You sat together on the floor, backs against the couch, a bag of chips open between your knees and a few textbooks still lying forgotten on the coffee table.

Eddie sparked the joint with a flick of his wrist and passed it to you with a crooked smile. “Moment of truth.”

You hesitated for a second. Then took it.

It wasn’t like the movies. You coughed. Hard.

Eddie laughed so loud he nearly knocked the bag over. “Okay—okay, breathe. Rookie move. You good?”

You nodded through a fit of coughs, trying to glare at him through watery eyes. “How do you do that without dying?”

“Years of reckless commitment,” he said with a hand over his heart. Eventually, the haze settled in. The edges of the world dulled. Time felt slower. The room was filled with your shared laughter—tired, relieved, victorious.

Eddie leaned his head back against the couch and stared at the ceiling for a long moment. The joint rested between his fingers, half-burnt and forgotten for now.

Then his voice came low. Quiet. “Hey…”

You turned to look at him. His eyes didn’t meet yours right away—he looked thoughtful, serious in a way that didn’t fit the usual Eddie Munson vibe.

“…Thanks.”

You blinked. “For what?”

He looked at you then.

“For not giving up. On school. On me.” He shrugged, voice tight. “I don’t know if I’d have done it. If it wasn’t for you.”

The quiet buzz in your chest had nothing to do with the weed. You smiled softly, knees drawn up, arms resting on them. “You didn’t need me. You had it in you the whole time.”

He scoffed and restrained an eye roll. “Nah. I needed someone to believe it was even there. And you—you just kept showing up. Even when I was a dick. Even when I punched furniture.”

“The school has really fragile furniture,” you teased.

“Yeah, well, my emotional stability isn’t built much better.”

You both laughed. Then, in the quiet that followed, he leaned his head towards yours, your shoulders brushing. He didn’t say anything else for a while. He just let the silence settle between you. Outside, the last bit of sunlight disappeared. Inside, two losers sat victorious in a trailer full of books and smoke, hearts a little lighter than before.

Eddie took the joint back between his fingers, still smirking from your earlier coughing fit. He glanced at you—your red eyes, your flushed cheeks, the way you were eyeing the thing now like it had personally wronged you.

He leaned in a little, voice dipping low, teasing but oddly gentle.

“Wanna try it again? But, like…” He held up the joint and took a slow drag, the tip glowing. He didn’t finish the sentence. Just gestured vaguely between your face and his. “…in a way that won’t destroy your lungs?”

You raised a brow. “You mean like—what, you blow it into my mouth like in the movies?”

Eddie gave a lazy grin, exhaling through his nose to keep the smoke in his mouth. “Yeah. Only if you’re cool with it.”

You hesitated. Your heart started doing that dumb little thud-thud-thud thing again. The air between you suddenly felt heavier, but not in a bad way. Not from the weed. From him.

“…Okay,” you murmured, quieter than you meant to. Eddie shifted closer and took another small drag—this time shorter, intentional. Held it in his mouth. And then tilted his head toward yours.

“Ready?” he asked, his voice soft, nearly a whisper.

You nodded. He leaned in, slow, giving you every second to pull away if you wanted. But you didn’t. You parted your lips slightly, and he exhaled the smoke carefully into your mouth—warm, smooth, and weirdly intimate. His breath mingled with yours, and you barely noticed the smoke at all this time. Just the closeness. Just him.

When he pulled back, it was only a few inches, and his gaze lingered on your lips longer than it probably should have.

“Better?” he asked.

You blinked, trying to keep your composure as your head spun for an entirely different reason. “Yeah. Way better.”

Eddie chuckled, brushing his curls back from his face. “Told you. Trust the professional.”

“Mm, debatable,” you teased, trying to play it cool even though your heart was hammering.

“Hey,” he said, tilting his head at you. “You trust me, don’t you?”

You met his eyes. “Yeah. Of course I do.”

And he smiled. The kind of smile that made you wonder if this night wasn’t just about celebrating a passing grade after all. You sank into the pile of pillows on the floor, the smoke still curling faintly in the air above you. The ceiling of Eddie’s trailer had that faint water stain shaped like nothing in particular, but you stared at it like it might give you answers. The warmth from the weed was settling into your limbs, making your thoughts slow and sticky, like honey dripping down a spoon.

You let out a breath, soft and unsure. “…I have absolutely no idea what I’m gonna do now.”

The words came out without you meaning to.

Eddie, still sitting beside you, turned his head to look at you. He didn’t say anything right away. Just watched you for a second like he was trying to read more than what you’d said.

You continued, eyes still on the ceiling. “We passed. We did the thing. The finals, the hell of this year…but like, now what? I was so busy making sure I didn’t fail, I never thought about what comes next.”

There was a pause. Then the familiar rustle of his rings as he laid down beside you, arms folded behind his head, copying your position like it was a reflex.

He sighed. “Yeah…I get that.”

You glanced sideways at him. “Do you?”

He nodded, a faint crease between his brows. “Thought if I passed, everything would just…I dunno. Click. Like, boom. Suddenly everything makes sense. But it’s still just…me. Still this town. Still the trailer. Still the same weird dreams about being a rockstar-slash-D&D champion-slash-not-a-total-screwup.”

You smiled faintly at that.

He turned his head to look at you, eyes softer now. “But hey. You don’t have to know everything right now. No one does.”

You swallowed. “What if I never figure it out?”

“Then we can be confused together,” he said simply.

You looked at him. He meant it. No teasing. No jokes. Just that same open honesty that had been slipping out of him more and more lately. Like passing school had cracked something open—made space for this…real Eddie underneath the bluster.

He looked back up at the ceiling. “Maybe we take it one day at a time. Make a list. Step one: survive Hawkins. Step two: get the hell out. Step three: you and me? Conquer the world, one broken vending machine at a time.”

You laughed, soft and tired and real.

He grinned. “See? You’re already making progress.”

You let the silence return after that, this time more peaceful. Not the kind that’s awkward or heavy. The kind you can share with someone who gets it. Who gets you. And as you laid there—shoulder to shoulder with Eddie Munson, heads clouded with smoke and futures uncertain—you realized that maybe not knowing wasn’t the scariest thing.

Maybe the scariest part was knowing you didn’t want to do any of it without him anymore.

“Hey, Eddie?” You asked.

He turned his head towards you. “Yeah?”

You kept staring at the ceiling. “…I think you’re my soulmate.”

Eddie didn’t laugh. He didn’t tease. He didn’t deflect like you maybe expected him to. Instead, after a moment, his voice came out rough. Quiet. Almost like he’d stopped breathing for a second.

“…You mean that?”

You nodded, still not looking at him. “Yeah. I do. I don’t know what it means or where I’m going or how the hell we ended up here on the floor of your trailer high off our asses, but…you make me feel like I’m not totally lost. Like I could figure it out someday. And I don’t think I’ve ever had that before. Not with anyone.”

He didn’t speak right away. But then you felt it—his fingers brushing yours. Light at first. Testing. And then they stayed.

“You know,” he said slowly, “if this is what soulmates feel like…I think I’ve been looking in all the wrong places.”

You finally turned your head to face him. He was already looking at you. Eyes warm and wide and a little unsure—like he couldn’t believe you’d said it, but he was desperately hoping you meant it.

“I’m really glad I found you,” he said.

Your chest tightened.

“Me too,” you whispered.

And in the soft haze of that tiny, cluttered trailer—surrounded by textbooks, chips, smoke, and the hum of a quiet night—you both lay there, hands lightly tangled, hearts thudding out some brand new rhythm.

No plans. No map.

Just two souls that finally recognized each other. You then turned your head just a little more, heart pounding in your chest, and pressed a soft kiss to Eddie’s cheek. It was warm from the leftover blush that had crept up when you’d said the word soulmate. His skin smelled faintly of smoke and whatever cheap soap he used, and it lingered as your lips left him.

For a moment, he didn’t move.

Just wide-eyed, stunned—like someone had short-circuited his entire system.

Then, slowly, his mouth curled into the kind of smile that couldn’t be stopped if he tried. A breathy giggle slipped out—high, surprised, and completely unfiltered.

“Oh my god,” he muttered under his breath, dragging both hands over his face as his feet did a little anxious tap-tap-tap on the floor like he was physically trying to burn off the electricity running through him. “You kissed me. I—holy shit.”

You laughed, unable to help it. “Are you okay?”

“No! I mean—yes. I mean—what the hell just happened?!” His voice cracked, and he peeked through his fingers with the kind of flustered joy that made your chest warm.

You shrugged, playful. “I kissed you. Keep up, Munson.”

He dropped his hands, still grinning like a dork, cheeks pink. “Okay, okay. Just…you gotta give me a second. I’ve dreamed about this in, like, a thousand different scenarios and none of them involved me acting like a preteen girl at a sleepover.”

“Too late,” you teased, nudging his side.

He laughed again, the kind that came from deep in his chest. Then he turned to you, still laying there, still smiling—this time a little softer.

“You’re seriously the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” he told you honestly.

You didn’t say anything. Just scooted closer and let your forehead rest lightly against his. And in that quiet moment, there wasn’t a single thought of finals or futures or fears. Just you and Eddie...However, Eddie suddenly sat up, brushing the curls out of his face and clearing his throat dramatically. You blinked at him in confusion—until he turned to you, coughed into his fist like some medieval nobleman, and extended his hand with exaggerated flair.

“Milady?” he asked, his voice half-serious, half-sugary sweet, and fully theatrical.

You stared at him for a second, dazed from the haze of the weed and the afterglow of your tiny kiss. “…What are you doing?”

He gave you a crooked grin, his brown eyes gleaming with mischief. “You didn’t get a prom night, right?”

You nodded slowly, still unsure where this was going.

“Well,” he said, wiggling his fingers, “we’re gonna fix that. Right now. Here. In this very glamorous, luxury trailer.”

You laughed. “You’re stoned.”

“Stoned and inspired.” He stood, a little wobbly but committed, and gave you the most dramatic bow you’d ever seen. “Please, do me the honor of dancing with me under the celestial glory of the single busted ceiling light.”

You stared at his outstretched hand.

Then, slowly, your lips curled into a smile and you took it. He pulled you up gently—hands warm, firm, steady. The moment you were on your feet, he placed one hand on your waist, the other still holding yours, and started swaying clumsily back and forth.

There was no music.

Just the hum of the trailer, the buzz of the moment, and Eddie Munson looking at you like you were the only thing that had ever mattered. You laid your head against his shoulder, and he held you just a little closer.

“Prom,” he whispered, voice soft, “Munson style.”

You grinned. “It’s perfect.”

And for the first time in forever, you didn’t feel like you'd missed out. Because here, in the heart of nowhere, you finally got your night.

With him.

The sway between you and Eddie was slow, clumsy, but full of so much affection it could’ve melted the walls. Your feet shuffled in lazy rhythm, heads tilted into each other, your laughter soft as it echoed in the quiet.

Then—

click.

Both of you froze.

Another click.

You turned your head, startled—just in time to see Wayne standing in the doorway, deadpan expression, holding up a beat-up Polaroid camera like this wasn’t the most absurd intrusion of all time.

“Don’t stop now,” he said flatly, adjusting the focus like he was lining up a prize-winning shot. “You two look like somethin’ out of a teenage rom-com—just missin’ the fog machine and bad synth music.”

Eddie immediately groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder. “Uncle Wayne, what the hell—”

Wayne snapped another picture.

“I was lookin’ for my wallet, but this—this is gold,” he mumbled, squinting at the camera. “Might just frame this one for the family photo album.”

You couldn’t help it—you burst into laughter.

Eddie lifted his head just enough to glare in that teenage-boy-embarrassed-but-secretly-soft way. “Uncle Wayne. Seriously.”

Wayne finally cracked a smirk, shrugging. “Hey, I’m just proud of you. Never thought I’d see the day you slow danced without tripping over your own feet or yelling about Metallica.”

Eddie opened his mouth to protest, but you beat him to it, still giggling. “He’s actually got decent rhythm. Shocked me too.”

Wayne gave you a nod of approval. “Good influence.”

Eddie covered his face again. “I can’t live like this.”

Wayne tucked the camera under his arm and started walking away, calling over his shoulder, “You’ll thank me when you’re old and boring and want proof you weren’t always a mess.”

And just like that, he was gone.

Eddie sighed loudly, muttering, “He’s never letting me live this down.”

You leaned in with a grin, pressing your nose against his. “He took a photo of us dancing like idiots. But he also just called me a good influence. I think that means I’m officially part of the family.”

Eddie stared at you for a beat. Then he smiled. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You are.”

And then, with no camera, no interruption, and no more hesitation, he finally leaned in and kissed you. It was perfect. But then, as Eddie kissed you—soft, a little unsure at first but full of so much heart—you felt one of his legs suddenly, gently, lift off the ground.

Just one.

Bent at the knee, foot dangling in the air like a total movie cliché.

Your eyes opened just a little, and when you saw it—this lanky metalhead boy standing there with his leg actually lifted in the middle of a kiss—you had to physically bite your cheek not to laugh. But a sound escaped you anyway. A sharp puff of air.

Eddie pulled back slightly, blinking. “What?”

You covered your mouth with your hand, shoulders shaking. “Nothing.”

“No, no, that’s a laugh. What’s so funny?” he asked, already suspicious, his brows pinched but a smile tugging at his lips.

“What?” Eddie asked again, voice low and breathless. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You shook your head, eyes glinting with mischief. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

“You’re lying,” he accused. “You’re doing the face.”

“What face?”

“The one where you’re holding in a laugh like you’re gonna explode.”

You snorted.

He narrowed his eyes. “Okay. For real. What did I do?”

You just pointed down. He looked.

“…Shit.” He dropped his foot immediately like he’d been caught mid-crime.

You couldn’t hold it anymore. You cackled, full and free.

Eddie stared at you for a second. “I’m gonna need you to never speak of this again.”

You grinned. “No promises.”

He pointed at you dramatically. “You’re banned. From prom. Forever.”

“But this is prom,” you said through your giggles, gesturing at the trailer, the pillows, the half-eaten chip bag by your feet. “So really, you just banned me from your living room.”

He threw his head back, groaning, then grabbed a pillow and flung it lightly at your face. “You’re evil. Beautiful, perfect, soulmate-level evil.”

You ducked the pillow and leaned into him, laughing into his shoulder. “And you’re a leg-lifting drama queen.”

He groaned and rolled his eyes before looking down at you.

“Okay. Whatever. Shut up,” he whispered with a smile, then wrapped his arms around you. You chuckled and melted into his embrace…

…

The morning sunlight crept through the threadbare curtains of Eddie’s trailer, casting soft gold streaks over the cluttered floor and your tangled limbs. You slowly sat up, hair mussed, face warm with sleep, and padded barefoot toward the kitchen in search of water—maybe a snack. Your body still buzzed faintly from last night’s haze, but your heart? It was singing.

You yawned as you pulled open the fridge—

And froze.

Right there, held up by a chipped Black Sabbath magnet, was the Polaroid.

The one Wayne took.

You and Eddie, swaying in the middle of the trailer. His hands around your waist. Your forehead pressed to his. Both of you smiling like the world didn’t matter outside that moment.

You stood there for a second, stunned. Then you smiled. You heard the telltale sound of socked feet behind you, and a familiar yawn. “You up already?” Eddie’s voice rasped sleepily.

You pointed without turning. “Did you put this up?”

He leaned on the counter beside you, rubbing at his eye with the heel of his palm. “Wayne did.”

You looked at him, eyebrows raised. “He put it on the fridge. Like it’s art.”

Eddie groaned into his hand. “He said—and I quote—‘My boy’s finally dancing instead of flunking, this deserves display.’”

You started giggling again.

Eddie peeked at you through his fingers, smirking. “Okay, but…we do look kinda cute, don’t we?”

You tilted your head, pretending to examine it like a museum piece. “You mean me? Yes. You’re passable.”

He gasped in mock offense. “Excuse you, I am radiating awkward prom night charm!”

You rolled your eyes, reached over, and flicked the edge of the Polaroid. “I dunno. Your leg’s not even lifted in this one.”

He narrowed his eyes. “You swore we were never talking about that again.”

“And yet,” you teased, opening the fridge like nothing had happened, “here we are.”

Eddie laughed and bumped your hip with his.

“Stop laughing, you evil witch.”

It only made you laugh harder.

…

Graduation Ceremony Day

The sun was too bright. The gowns were too hot. The names being read out dragged on forever. But you couldn’t stop smiling. Because somehow, against every single odd stacked against you both…you and Eddie had made it. You stood with the rest of your class in the sea of maroon caps, gown fluttering around your knees, your fingers nervously clutching the edges of your program. The smell of grass, sweat, and teenage adrenaline was thick in the air. Families were gathered in the bleachers, cheering loudly every time someone walked the stage.

You glanced around the crowd—until your eyes landed on Eddie.

He was a few rows ahead, fidgeting in his gown like it was lined with bees, muttering to himself and rocking on his heels. His cap sat crooked on his head, a few of his curls spilling out from beneath it. But when he caught you looking, he gave you the biggest, dorkiest grin imaginable and mouthed, “We did it.”

You mouthed back, “We did.”

The moment his name was called—

“Edward Munson.”

—the crowd erupted.

Not just a few claps, but loud whoops, whistles, someone even yelled, “THAT’S MY BOY!” (You were 95% sure that was Wayne.)

Eddie looked stunned. For once, actually stunned. He walked up the steps like it wasn’t real, like someone was going to stop him. He took the diploma with wide eyes, paused, then raised it over his head triumphantly.

Everyone laughed.

Your name came not long after. And you walked that stage with your head high, your chest full, and Eddie yelling way too loudly from the crowd. When the ceremony ended, the courtyard exploded into hugs and camera flashes and kids throwing caps into the air.

You pushed through the crowd until you saw him. Eddie ran at you like he was going to tackle you. “GRADUATE!” he yelled, grabbing you by the arms and spinning you once before setting you down.

“I cannot believe this,” he said breathlessly. “They actually let us out. We’re free. What do we do now?”

You looked at him, your grin growing.

But then, Wayne came up behind you, holding his old Polaroid camera again. “Smile.”

You and Eddie turned just in time—

click.

And this time, Eddie’s arm was wrapped around you, your cap held in your hands, and both your faces lit up like kids on Christmas.

Wayne looked at the photo, smiled, and handed it to you. “Thought you might want this one for yourself.”

You stared at the picture, swallowing hard. In it, you both looked like everything high school tried to crush.

And somehow, you both won.

Wayne let out a soft, gravelly chuckle, arms crossed over his chest as he watched Eddie suddenly get swarmed by Dustin, Mike, Lucas, and even Erica—who promptly gave him a fake punch in the arm and told him, “‘Bout time, loser.”

Eddie was glowing. Actually glowing. Spinning Dustin in a half-hug. The kids hung off of him like satellites, loud and laughing, and it made something warm bloom in your chest. You stepped quietly to Wayne’s side, the energy of the courtyard blurring around you both. Your gaze stayed locked on Eddie as you whispered:

“…How much for you to take a picture of our wedding?”

Wayne turned his head slowly toward you.

He just smiled—a small, knowing, tired-smoke-and-coffee kind of smile—and said, “Honey, I’d pay you to let me.”

Wayne already had the perfect spot in his wallet picked out for that photo, too. Your breath caught a little, and he patted your shoulder like it was already decided.

“Long as I get to be front row,” he added. “Photographer’s rights.”

You bit your lip, cheeks burning, heart stuttering. Because even if it was far off—even if neither of you had said that word out loud—he saw it, too. You looked back at Eddie, who had just turned to look for you. His eyes met yours across the crowd. He smiled. That stupid, soft, soul-deep goofy grin you loved so much.

And in that moment, you knew.

You were hopelessly in love with that idiot.

You pressed a hand to his shoulder in thanks, then turned your gaze back to Eddie—who was surrounded by high-fives and back-slaps, his grin nearly splitting his face. Eddie caught your eye across the throng, saw you standing next to his uncle, and his smile softened into something almost tender. He gave you a little wave before wriggling free of his friends’ congratulations and making his way back to you.

Wayne stepped aside, lifting the camera. “Alright, you lovebirds—say ‘class of forever!’”

You and Eddie fell into each other’s orbit naturally—caps tilted, gowns still fluttering—shoulders touching, eyes shining.

“Class of forever!” you and Eddie echoed together.

click.

Wayne held out the fresh Polaroid for you to take. You studied the print: Eddie’s arm draped over your shoulders, your head resting against his, both of you beaming as if no cap or gown could ever contain how vast this moment felt.

“What were you and Uncle Wayne talking about?” Eddie finally asked you—his eyes curious as he looked down at you.

You looked back at Eddie and smiled. “Our future, Eddie…Our bright future.”

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