#my expectation was high but part 3 was so disappointing sigh

[pomefioredove]

i just noticed on your 'yuu gets sold' sorta series that there was a good ending, by chance could you do a bad ending one? if not that's totally ok! keep safe and stay healthy ❤️

oh god. I have a very evil idea for this.

parts 1 | 2 | 3 | kalim

summary: a bad (or good, depending on your stance) ending type of post: short fic characters: surprise :) additional info: yuu is gender neutral, this is short, HELP

Everyone waits.

The chatter and banter which once occupied the courtyard dies down to dull whispers and foot tapping.

Everyone waits, and there's no Crowley.

"Wonderful," Jamil sighs. "He's probably taken all the money and run off. I told you all that-"

"Maybe he's late!" Kalim shouts. A few in the crowd murmur in hopeful agreement.

Silver coughs. "Maybe he realized this whole thing is ridiculous and is processing everyone's refunds,"

They don't like that option as much.

The sun hangs lower and lower in the sky, threatening to shroud everyone in darkness as the minutes tick on.

"Well, I've had enough of this," Vil says, turning towards the exit. "I've put off my afternoon long enough."

"For once, we can agree on something," Leona murmurs, dragging Ruggie along with him.

No one is exactly surprised with this turn of events- but there's a definite sense of disappointment that everyone is sharing.

"He probably just forgot or 'somethin," Epel says, walking alongside Ace, Deuce, and Jack back to Ramshackle to update you on the happenings.

Jack shrugs. "He's definitely not the most organized, but there's no way someone could just "forget" about this. I think Jamil is right, he probably ran off with the money while he could. The swindler..."

Deuce is the next to add something to the pity party. "And yet, we should've known this was a possibility,"

"Shoulda seen it coming..." Epel murmurs. "I shoulda listened to Vil and pulled out while I still had the chance. Dang it..."

The lights are on in Ramshackle as the four approach, a warm and welcome sight after their disappointing afternoon. And the front door is open- were you expecting them?

"Hm. Well, think of it this way," Ace pushes the door the rest of the way open. "We may have been scammed, but at least nothing changes. I mean, it could've been worse."

"A lot worse," Deuce murmurs, following him inside.

The four make it into the foyer and stop dead in their tracks.

There are many things to expect walking into Ramshackle- cobwebs, dust, ghosts, you- Crowley is usually not one of them.

"You- you've been here this whole time?!" Epel shouts, throwing his arms out. "We were all 'waitin for 'ya like a bunch of idjits!"

Deuce and Ace wince. "Dude, chill... but seriously, where were you?"

Crowley doesn't have the chance to answer before something else steals away their attention.

You walk into the room, suitcase in hand. "Guys?"

The four turn to greet you, eyes wide at the luggage you're carrying. "What's that... Crowley?"

The man himself just stands there, pretending to ponder something. "I could have sworn I sent someone to break the news... how peculiar,"

Epel's brow knots. "What news?"

"A third party somehow got wind of our little... venture and donated a very high sum at the last minute. Along with a very passionately worded letter about our dear prefect's safety here at school," he pauses. "Or lack thereof."

Crowley sighs. "The name rung a bell, but... I couldn't imagine how or why anyone outside of NRC would be following the prefect's moves so closely,"

Deuce's eyes narrow. "Crowley. What are you trying to say?"

"Well, I..." he says, seemingly at a loss for words. "I'm afraid to say that our prefect is being transferred to Noble Bell College,"

[permanentswaps]

New Tricks Pt. 3

Inspired by needsastory. Read Part 1 and Part 2 first!

Ben’s POV

Dad in my body burst back in through the door less than an hour later, his expression a mix of frustration and disappointment. I raised an eyebrow, curious about the sudden return.

"You weren’t gone very long, what happened?" I asked, confused.

Tom let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. "Kim's parents came back from their vacation early. She wasn't expecting them, but she told me I couldn’t stay the night anymore."

"So, does that mean … ?" I started to ask.

Dad, frustrated, said. "Yeah, we made out a bit, but... we didn't get to fuck," he admitted, a bit frustrated.

"Thank god," I said

Tom shot me a curious look. "Why? You worried I was gonna set expectations too high for when we swap back?"

I hesitated for a moment before explaining, "If you had fucked with her, it might have made the swap permanent. We'd be stuck like this forever."

As I verbalized the thought, a strange mix of emotions washed over me. Despite the initial shock and frustration of being trapped in my dad's body, I was definitely coming around to the idea of staying like this. The prospect of embodying the masculinity and strength I had always admired was strangely appealing.

Dad seemed to sense my conflicting emotions and raised an eyebrow. "You sound almost disappointed," he said, amused.

I chuckled nervously. "Yeah, well... I guess I am.” I admitted, scratching the back of my head awkwardly.

To my surprise, Dad didn't seem fazed by my confession. Instead, he leaned back against the door frame, crossing his arms thoughtfully. "You know, even if this isn't permanent, maybe we should consider staying like this for a bit," he suggested, his tone surprisingly earnest.

I stared at him in disbelief, caught off guard by his proposal. But as I mulled over his words, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within me.

"Yeah," I replied slowly, a tentative smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "Maybe we should."

Tom’s POV

Over the next week, I found myself surprisingly at ease in Ben’s routine.

I really liked hanging out with Ben's friends. They were a cool group, each with their own quirks and personalities. One of his friends, in particular, stood out to me - Colin. We chatted a lot at school, sharing jokes and stories between classes. It was easy to see why Ben enjoyed his company so much.

"So, you coming to watch the game tonight?" Colin asked, tossing his backpack over his shoulder as we walked to our next class.

I nodded, a smile playing on my lips. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. You ready to crush it out there on the field?"

Colin grinned, a glint of excitement in his eyes. "You know it, man. We're gonna dominate!"

Later that day, Colin and I stood on the sidelines, watching the girls' soccer team play before the boys went on. I couldn't help but admire Kim. She was a force to be reckoned with on the field, her determination evident in every move she made.

"Damn, she's really good," Colin said, nudging me with his elbow.

I quickly looked at him before shifting my attention back to the field and grinning. "Yeah, she's something else, isn't she?"

But my attention didn’t stay focused on the field for long. Stealing another quick glance at Colin, I began to admire him too. His hair tousled from his earlier warm-up run, a faint sheen of sweat glistening on his skin - he was undeniably cute.

"You okay, man?" Colin asked, noticing my distraction.

"Yeah, just... admiring the view," I replied casually, hoping he wouldn't pick up on the sudden shift in my thoughts.

As the week progressed, I couldn't shake the realization that Ben might be a bit of a repressed bisexual. It wasn't a problem for me - I had already come to terms with being gay and was out and proud. But I made a mental note to ask him about it when we switched back.

Despite the newfound comfort in Ben's life, there was still a lingering sense of sadness. I missed the muscles I had worked so hard for, the physical strength that had become a part of my identity. But as I looked around at Ben's friends, at the camaraderie and laughter they shared, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the opportunity to take a walk in his shoes, if only for a little while.

Ben’s POV

Over the next week, I found myself reveling in the virility of my new body. It was a strange sensation, feeling the raw power coursing through my veins, the result of years of dedication and hard work that had sculpted my dad's muscular physique.

I indulged in activities that I had only dreamed of before. With each passing day, I spent more time in the gym, pushing my body to its limits and relishing in the sensation of strength and vitality that surged through me.

But despite the exhilaration of my newfound physical prowess, there were moments when the tension built up, the strain of unfamiliar muscles protesting against the strain of my workouts. It was then that I decided to treat myself to a massage, hoping to alleviate the knots and tightness that had accumulated over the week.

As I entered the massage parlor, I was greeted by a super attractive guy, somewhere between my current age and my old body’s age. His warm smile and soothing demeanor immediately put me at ease, and I couldn't help but feel a flutter of excitement in my chest as he led me to the massage room.

"So, what brings you in today?" the masseur asked, his voice gentle and inviting as he prepared the massage table.

I shrugged, trying to play it cool despite the nerves that fluttered in my stomach. "Just feeling a bit tense lately. Thought a massage might help."

He nodded understandingly, motioning for me to lie down on the table. "Don't worry,m you're in good hands," he reassured me with a wink, causing my heart to skip a beat.

As his skilled hands began to work their magic, kneading away the tension that had built up in my muscles, I couldn't help but relax into the sensation. It was like all the stress and worries of the past week melted away under his touch, leaving me feeling lighter and more at peace than I had in ages.

"Wow, you're really good at this," I murmured appreciatively, my eyes drifting shut as I surrendered myself to the blissful experience.

He chuckled softly, the sound sending a shiver down my spine. "Just doing my job," he replied modestly, though there was a hint of pride in his voice.

As the massage continued, lost in the sensation of his hands moving over my body with practiced skill. Eventually, his hands made their way down to my waist and torso. Quickly, I felt my cock start to harden and peak through the towel he had laid across my lap.

“I am so sorry.” I apologies profusely, my cheeks turning red.

“No worries at all.” He said, trying to hide a smirk. “Happens all the time”

“Should we stop.” I ask.

He hesitated. “Normally I would say that we should take a break, but,” he winked at me, “that's not really want I want to do with a guy like you.”

He swiftly to grasped my dick before taking it all in his mouth and continuing to rub my muscles with his hands. As he sucked me off on the table, I arched my back and raised my arms up to flex towards the ceiling. In that moment of ecstasy, I thought to myself.

“There is no way I am ever giving this body up.”

I gently stroked his chin with my thick fingers, guiding him up to kiss me. Then, whispering in his ear, I said. “How about I make you feel good too.” Before grabbing his ass.

He quickly took off the rest of his clothes and straddled me over the table before we started making out again. As he lowers his ass, I begin teasing his hole with my cock. He feels up my biceps again and moans, “oh you’re so sexy daddy.”

That's all the confirmation I needed. I thrust upwards, holding onto his waist with both hands, and feel my thick cock enveloped by his warm hole. Immediately I feel a bit dizzy, but as quickly as the feeling comes, its replaced by a sense of incredible clarity. In that moment I knew, I was Tom, forever.

Tom’s POV – Epilogue

Three years had passed since my dad made the swap permanent, and while I was initially upset, I couldn't deny that I had lucked out.

Sure, I no longer had a super muscular physique, but my new body was undeniably cute, and that counted for something.

Once I knew this was my life to live, I made some changes. First thing was I decided to break up with Kim. It wasn't an easy choice, but as I came to terms with my evolving identity, I realized that my heart belonged elsewhere. Despite this new body being bisexual, I found that my preferences leaned heavily towards guys. I also, began to update my style, since, unlike dad, I didn't care about what the other guys at school would say.

About a year after the swap, I met my boyfriend, Zander. He was everything I had ever dreamed of in my old life- kind, funny, and super super romantic. With him by my side, I felt like I could take on the world.

In a twist of fate, I also found unexpected success as a model in my new body. While Dad had always complained about his delicate features – in the model industry they were actually an asset. And besides, he was always concerned that people thought he looked gay, but now, with me in control, this body was gayer than it had ever been.  

Now I make an absolute killing, and I get  to enjoy the perks of fame and fortune while still in my twenties. Even though I didn’t choose this body, I now can’t even imagine living my life any other way.

Ben’s POV – Epilogue

I know what you're probably thinking - I must be crazy for giving up my old body. And yeah, maybe I am a little crazy, but it's a decision I don't regret in the slightest.

Since the swap, Benji - as he now prefers to be called - has thrived in my body. It's like he's living out the life he always wanted but never had the chance to before. And I have to admit, seeing him so happy and fulfilled brings a sense of warmth to my heart.

As for me? Well, I've found myself exploring a whole new side of life that I never knew existed. I’ve kept on hitting the gym, and I think it looks even better than when Benji was still controlling it.

Dating guys might not have been something I ever imagined myself doing, but there's something undeniably freeing about it - like shedding the expectations and constraints of my old life and stepping into something new and exciting.

While Benji may be going steady in my old body, I haven’t slowed down at all. There’s constantly a new twink in my bed, begging to be railed by me. Even though each twink is cuter than the last – I still regret that I am related to my old body, otherwise I would’ve fucked him a long time ago. That said, he would never do the kinky stuff I’m into now. Now, every Grindr hookup we experiment with leather, bondage, BDSM … and I always go in raw so that I can fill their insides with my seed. After all, with a body like this, life is too short to play it safe.

[pxrxcxa]

You're being mean 

✶ One shot

Pairing | Eddie x Female reader 18+.

Post summary | After a disappointing hookup, Y/n develops a crush on Eddie when she can't stop thinking about what he'd be like in bed instead, wondering if he's as rough around the edges as everyone says he is.

What to expect | Eddie being a dominant, selfish ass. 18 + so minors DNI.

Post Warnings | Pure Smut 18 +, rough M oral sex, orgasm denial, F masturbation, choking, consensual forcing & degradation.

Word count | 3.1 K Word Count.

As always, any & all comments/reblogs are most appreciated - Take care, P. x 🌻

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Authors Note | A bit out of my comfort zone, I don't think that Eddie is actually anything like this but I wanted to write something angry lmao. I hope you enjoyed it, P.x 🌻

I swung my feet in the air as I lounged across Nancy’s frilly pink bed spread, listening to her drone on about Steve Harrington, nodding and umming in the right places as her voiced faded into background noise, flipping mindlessly through a trashy magazine filled with perfect models that crushed my self-esteem. 

“So who’s yours y/n?” My eyes flashed to hers as a blush crept up my face, embarrassed as I realised I lost track of where she was up to.

“Huh?” I smiled sheepishly as she let out an exasperated sigh. 

“Your crush? Who is it, I told you mine? Pay up, it’s only fair.” I chewed on my lip as I stared into the shining brown eyes of my best friend as she sat on her bedroom floor, regret flooding through me as I hesitated to tell her. We were in our junior year at high school, and while Nancy had drooled over the King of Hawkins High along with the rest of the lower class, I had set my sights on someone even less attainable than Steve. 

I’d already gone down the route of boring basketball players. Personally, I felt that I could have lived without the four inches and twenty seconds, my last hook up leaving me woefully unsatisfied. As I paid more attention to Eddie’s random and chaotic outbursts out school, the more I wondered if he was that animated in all aspects of his life. 

There was just the small issue of Eddie seeming to not even notice my existence though, and my petrifying fear of approaching him, my tongue turning into butter anytime I got close to him.  

My heart thudded against my ribs painfully as she waited for my answer, I twisted her sheets around my fingers as Mrs Wheeler popped her head in through the door, offering us snacks. I rolled over to stare up at the ceiling as the door shut softly, closing my eyes as I whispered. 

“Eddie Munson.” I murmured; a breath flew out of Nancys’ mouth as she sprung up onto the mattress next to me.

“Who?” She screeched, eyes widening in shock as I peered at her face. 

“Eddie.” I said louder, watching her carefully for her reaction, she bit her lip as she stared at me like I was crazy. 

“Really?” A small smile spread across her face as she realised I was serious.

“I don’t know, there’s just something about him.” Eddies dark eyes popped into my mind, each time they met mine sending a shiver of fear and longing through me. 

“Huh.” She sucked her cheeks in and leaned back against her bed frame, watching me carefully.

“What?” I asked defensively, wrapping my arms across my chest. 

“Nothing.” She shrugged, a mischievous look dancing behind her eyes.

“No, what?” I demanded, snatching the schoolbook from her grasp as she picked it up to avoid my gaze.

“He’s just so… rough.” My face betrayed me as Nancy squealed, slapping my knee. 

“Oh…my…god. IS THAT WHAT YOU’RE INTO?” I buried myself into the mound of pillows, peaking through the cracks as I watched her blink in shock, her mouth hanging open wide.

“Well… Mike is in his club, maybe you could get him to introduce you!” She shouted excitedly, leaning forward to shake my shoulders. 

I laughed as her contagious energy made me grin. “Nance… no. He wouldn’t be interested in me.” My smile slipped from my face as I fiddled with my hands in my lap. 

“Why not?” She snapped, I faltered on the brink of admitting my insecurities to her, shame running through me over my jealousy towards her natural beauty, she wouldn’t understand even if I did try to explain.  

“He glares at me every time he catches me staring.” I muttered, telling her half of the truth. “I don’t think he likes me very much; he always looks angry whenever I see him.” My mind snapped to the thought of him stalking past me in the hallways at school, staring straight through me as I shrunk under his glare. 

“I think that’s just him, y/n.” She soothed, looking at me with pity. 

“Hmm.” I half-heartedly agreed, wanting to move past the topic. 

“You can take Mike and the others to their thing tonight!” I sighed as she clapped her hands together excitedly, knowing it was useless to try to argue with Nancy once she set her mind to something.

I fiddled with the hem line of my jumper as I followed Mike and Dustin down the dark, empty school hallway, my nerves hitching up with each heavy footstep that echoed off the grey lockers on either side of me. I followed in tightly behind Nancy’s brother as they casually strolled through the drama room door, shouting over each other as they gushed about fake monsters. 

Eddie sat at the head of the table, low burning candles throwing sharp shadows across his attractive features as he twisted his ring across his bony fingers.

He didn’t look up as Mike cleared his throat beside me. “Uh Eddie, this is-“ 

“I know who she is.” He snapped, leaning back in his chair as his eyes flashed up to stare at him, Mike shrunk under his gaze, his voice trailing off into a whisper.

“Uh, yeah. She’s interested in DnD…” I dug my nails into my palm as his words sounded fake even to my ears.

“That’s not what she’s interested in.” His deep voice cut across the thick air, I blushed as his eyes shot daggers up at me through his long eyelashes. I shook as he scowled at me, his dark, deep-set eyes staring unblinkingly. Mike and Dustin shot me a confused look as I stuttered over my words. 

“Well spit it out.” Eddie glowered at me, raising his eyebrows mockingly at me. My lip trembled as he glared, laughing as I stood frozen at the end of the table, tugging at my shirt nervously. 

I spun on my heels as tears brimmed in my eyes, the detestation in his voice piercing through me as mortification washed over me. I knew coming with the kids tonight had been a bad idea, but I’d let Nancy talk me into it, letting her dress me up and paint my face with her makeup. I shouldered my way through the wooden door and stalked down the hallway back to my car, letting the cold night air of the autumn evening dry my fallen tears as I leant against the hood of my car. 

An hour passed. And then another as darkness well and truly settled around me, before I heard the thundering footsteps running down the hall. Mike and Dustin flew through the doors, quickly followed by the rest of their club. They stopped on the sidewalk as their mouths popped open in surprise at the sight of me. 

“Oh, we thought you’d left. Uh…” Mike clapped his hand around the back of his neck as his eyes turned towards the entrance of the car park, a pair of headlights cutting through the darkness. “I called my dad to come get us.” 

He stumbled as Eddie pushed past him, a cigarette hanging from his mouth as he pulled his jacket on over his defined shoulders, he rolled his eyes as he noticed me huddled in my sweater, pulling his lighter from his pocket and jogging lightly over to his van as his knotted curls flowed out behind him. I groaned as I pulled my hands from across my chest, annoyed at myself for wasting my time, and looking like a fool for it. 

Mike and Dustin waved goodbye and shot me apologetic smiles as they slid into Mr Wheelers car, as anguish and embarrassment turned in my stomach. Eddie had humiliated me tonight, with a sudden surge of anger that launched myself off the cold metal of my car, and across the empty car park, I decided that I couldn’t sink any lower so I might as well get a few shots in since he clearly couldn’t care less about me or my juvenile crush.  

I shouted out after him as he reached up to pull himself into van, Eddie narrowed his eyes dangerously as he turned to watch me storming over to him. 

“Hey.” I shouted, my loose hair whipping wildly around my face as I spurred across the asphalt.  

“What.” He snapped, pulling his smoke from his mouth and breathing a heavy cloud into my face, I coughed and waved the haze away as it stung my eyes. 

“What’s your problem?” I demanded, planting my feet squarely in front of him so he couldn’t escape. Eddie’s eyes ran up and down my shivering form, my anger dimming as cold air brushed my skin. 

“You think I don’t know what you want? You really think I don’t notice you staring after me like a lost puppy? Your silly little crush is so obvious, I’m embarrassed for you.” He twisted his thick brows as he grinned, staring into my eyes as I grasped for a reply. 

“I uh-“ my body tingled as he watched me flounder. 

“Uh Uh Uh” He mocked me, rolling his eyes when I flinched. “You’re such a child y/n, go home.” His jacket ruffled as he spun back to tear open his driver’s side door. 

“Hey! I am not a child.” I stepped forward with my fists balled at my side, not sure what I was planning, just my irritation at his words urging me on. 

He twisted back so suddenly that his closeness caught me completely off guard, his body inches from mine as the smell of cigarettes and cologne made me recoil. I stopped breathing as I watched his tongue slide over his pink lips, the corners of them turning up into a smirk. 

“Oh please y/n. You can’t even look me in the eyes.” My cheeks flamed as I avoided his gaze, the truth in his words calling me out painfully. His frizzy curls bounced as he shook his head, the suffocating smell of tobacco spilling over me as he pulled his van door open. 

My hand flashed out to curl around the leather across his elbow, his arm tensing as he felt my touch. His flaring eyes met mine for a split second before he reached out to grab my waist, spinning me around to slam into the side of his van. He knocked my foot to the side with his, so my legs spread wider, pushing himself into the gap between them. 

“You think you’re grown enough to handle me y/n?” I wasn’t sure if it was the doubtful, teasing look in his eyes, or my anger at his rudeness, but a foreign confidence took over my body as I dug my nails into his arms hard enough to draw blood. 

He smiled as I stared up at him angrily, his five o’clock shadow bristling across his jaw. He strained as a half-smile pulled up the corner of his mouth, slowly bringing his lips closer to mine as my knees shook, he stopped as he got close enough for me to practically taste him, the lean contours of his towering body pushing in deeper against me.

“This does not mean I like you. I just like to have fun.” 

He cocked his head to the side as I considered his words, I had a moment to gulp before he shoved me harshly along the panels of his van, stumbling slightly as his rough hand guided me to the back doors, my breathing sped up as he pulled me against his chest, the coarse fabric of his leather jacket pressing in against me as he tore the door open behind me, knocking me to the floor as he climbed in after me. 

My heavy breath echoed around us as he slammed the door shut, dousing us in darkness, I fumbled back on my elbows as his shining eyes moved closer to me, crawling backwards up to the front seats, the exposed metal beneath me digging into my palms. 

“If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you.” His grin deceived his serious tone as his eyes devoured me sprawled below him, shaking with excitement as I waited for his next move. 

Fear shot through me as he lowered himself to his knees, his hungry eyes never leaving mine as he forcibly wrenched my legs apart, my heart hammered loudly in my chest, doubt flickering through my mind as my body betrayed me. I squirmed under Eddie’s touch, he calloused hands leaving behind a trail of fire along my bare skin. 

“We’re really going to fuck here. What if someone sees us?” I caught my lip between my teeth as Eddie reached up to tear his shirt hastily over his head, fondling his boner through his dark jeans. 

“What makes you think I’m going to fuck you?” I froze as his words stabbed through me, shame pulsing through my mind as I searched his face to see he was serious. Eddie grinned as he lowered himself to hover over me, his hair tickling my chin as it fell in waves around us. 

“Don’t pretend like you wouldn’t enjoy it y/n. I can tell how much of a whore you are.” Heat buzzed through my body as I ran my eyes over his bare chest, soaking up parts of him that I had only imagined. 

“Take your clothes off right now.” He growled as I lifted my hands up to trace the muscles in his arms. He leant back to give me some space as I quickly wriggled out of my sweater and short skirt, my shivering skin glowing in the moonlight seeping through the windshield. His expression darkened as I laid back, he reached his hand out to explore my body, tearing my bra down my chest roughly to expose my breasts. His eyes shot up to my face as I gasped.

“I’m going to ruin you.” 

“Then why are you still talking?” 

He buried his head into my chest as his sharp teeth bit into my soft skin, his large hands wrapping around my sides, constricting around me until I struggled to breathe. I gasped as he pulled on my nipples, nibbling until they became hard, his hand snaked between my legs to rub roughly at my clit, my back arched up into his hand.  

“Suck on my fingers.” His arm moved up across my jaw as he forced me to open my mouth, shoving his hand down my throat as far as they would go until I was gagging, Eddie looked at me from where he hovered just above my panties, to smirk at me. 

“Look at you, all hot and bothered, you’re so fucking wet over me.” I moaned against his palm as his other hand pressed a long finger into me, curling up inside me mercilessly as I writhed madly from the pleasure. He pulled his drenched fingers from my mouth to wrap around my neck, squeezing until blind spots burst across my vision, his dark silhouette leaning up over me as he pumped his arm between my legs, snarling into my ear as I choked out gasps. My legs shook as the hot burning feeling twisted in my lower abdomen, he laughed as he felt me clench beneath him. 

“Not yet.”   

He sat up, pulling me with him as he forced me on my knees, his dexterous hands undoing his belt swiftly, my breath tumbled from my lips as his cock fell from his pants, barely having time to breath as he twisted his hand in my hair, guiding my mouth towards him. His fingers moved to my chin to force my lips apart, his free hand moving to brush my wayward hair away from my face as I wrapped my hand around him, I ran his tip long my parted lips, his precum making it slip back and forth easier. As soon as the first inch slipped past my mouth, he gripped the back of my head with both hands and shot forward, spit dribbling from my mouth as he forced himself deeper into my throat, I gagged as a tear escaped the corner of my eyes, Eddie’s moans filling the van as he pulled back and thrusted into my mouth, faster and faster until he shuddered and his hot cum poured over my tongue, dripping down my throat as he stroked my neck. 

His face was flushed as he pulled back to look down at me, wiping the corner of my mouth roughly, leaning me back down against the floor. 

“Swallow. All of it.” I closed my eyes as his words sent a shiver through me, silently obeying him. His cock was still hard as he stroked it, his eyes glued to my face as I licked my lips. 

 “Touch yourself.” I settled in against the rough metal beneath me, tracing the outlines of my chest, down along my soft stomach until I felt the lacy fabric of my panties. I held eye contact with him as I slipped my hand beneath them, rolling my hips as I rubbed my sensitive spot with slow circles. My eyes fluttered closed as my hand faltered, pleasure shooting through me.

“Open your eyes.” He snapped gruffly, his chest heaving as he stroked his cock faster, his eyes gleaming as he watched my body shake. My hand stopped as I gasped, my legs twitching. Eddie sighed heavily as he reached forward to knock my hand away angrily.

“Fucks sake, do it right y/n.” I moaned and reached down to grasp his arm to steady myself as he rubbed faster than me, trapping my clit between his finger tips as he rolled it back and forth, setting a pace that made me scream out in pleasure, quickly hurtling me towards an orgasm. Without missing a beat, he switched his index finger for his thumb on my clit so he could slide it inside of me, curling it back and forth as I shook.

“There we go.” He jerked his dick fast as my back arched further off the floor, shaking violently as heavenly light burst through me. My hair stuck to my mouth as I moaned, Eddie’s hand fucking me through my waves of pleasure.

He scoffed at me as I slumped against the floor, holding his hand out almost lazily towards me as I looked up at him through heavy lashes.

“Here, lick it off like the dirty slut you are.”

“I’ll admit, you’re a lot more fun than I’d thought you be. Try not to let that go to your head.” He grinned at me over his shoulder, as he sat off the edge of his van with doors propped open, letting cold air swirl around us as he pulled his shirt over his head and shook his hair out of his collar.

“Why didn’t you want to fuck me?” I whispered as frustration flamed in my eyes again, crossing my legs and bringing them to my chin as I watched his back tense. The feeling of being used settled in my stomach uncomfortably as the lust left my body, leaving a dirty feeling behind.

“I didn’t have a condom. And if you wanted that lovey dovey shit y/n, you shouldn’t have come to me.” He jumped down from the back of the van, nodding his head towards me.

“You gotta go. I got shit to do” 

“We should probably leave anyway, before we start a scandal.” I gathered the fabric of my clothes against my chest, crawling across the floor so I could stand up to get dressed.

“Don’t act so innocent when we both know where your mouth was two minutes ago.” He lit up a cigarette as he turned away from me, my hand hovering in the air as I silently asked for help to get down.

“You’re mean Eddie Munson.” I stumbled as I jumped down lightly onto the road. He turned to smirk at me, blowing a cloud of smoke in my face.

“Never said I wasn’t sweetheart.” 

Part 2

Also Readers - if anyone is looking for a slow burn Eddie x y/n, check out my Opposite Ends series.

Copyright © 2022 by P.McCann.

All Rights Reserved.

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 3 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part. 1. Part.2

Masterlist.

Warning: angst, argument ?

Summary: After being summoned by her principal for what she did with Chris, Y/N sees things take a completely different turn. Unintentionally, Chris will not make it any easier for her, pushing her to make a choice that is more than painful for their mutual well-being.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

A week had passed since the incident in the locker room with Chris.

After being summoned, the principal decided to suspend both Chris and me from school for two weeks.

If only that was the end of it…

After the meeting, my parents demanded a serious discussion at home.

“Y/n, I’m trying to keep my calm, but what the hell is this story?”

“This is not how we raised you. What kind of girl sleeps with a guy in her high school locker room?”

“Your behavior is disappointing, Y/n. I expected better from you.”

“For how long did you hide this little adventure with that asshole from us?”

“Do you realize how irresponsible you’ve been? Do you think universities will appreciate seeing this on your school record?”

“Believe me, you won’t see that boy again, Y/n. I’ll make sure you never see him again.”

It was mainly my father speaking, as usual. My mother just cried, casting disdainful glances at me, as if I had ruined our lives with my actions.

As always, it wasn’t about me, but about them. I was their daughter, but I wasn’t really myself. All my life, I had been just their daughter, nothing more. The one time I allowed myself to be me, I ended up making an unforgivable mistake in their eyes.

I was not allowed to go out, and I hadn’t seen my phone since then, so no way to communicate with Chris about what happened.

I felt so guilty for leaving him in the dark like this. Chris knew my parents were strict, but I had never dared to tell him how much.

I wasn’t even allowed to break up with my boyfriend as I wanted; my father took care of sending him a message, making it clear that if he dared to approach me, he’d be in trouble.

It was the first time in my life that I was punished, and the first time I saw my parents so disappointed in me. To be honest, I was disappointed in myself. What had possessed me to do that? What did I hope to achieve?

I hoped to one day be more than just their daughter, seriously, Y/n?

My days consisted of crying, staring at my bedroom ceiling, and rereading the same books over and over. Maybe that’s all I deserved after what I did.

And maybe it was better for Chris too. He and I could never have worked; we could never have hidden this relationship indefinitely, and my parents would never have accepted me being with him.

He loved a girl who didn’t even have the right to exist, and how selfish I was to trust that “we” could ever exist one day.

I had to let him go, even if it broke my heart. I knew that by staying with him, I condemned us to a catastrophic end, and it eventually happened.

It was now 2 a.m., and I was lying in my bed doing nothing. Sleep had abandoned me a long time ago.

Every night when the lights went out, the only thing I could think about was how much I had disappointed my parents, and it haunted me.

*knock knock knock*

I panicked and sat up in bed when I heard the familiar sound at my window.

*knock knock knock*

I knew it was him, but what was I supposed to do?

*knock knock knock*

Oh my God, if he keeps this up, he’ll wake up my parents. I have no choice.

I got up to open the window for him, and he immediately entered, almost pushing me without waiting for my approval.

“Chris, what the hell?!” I said, surprised, as he stumbled towards my desk.

He looked in bad shape, with huge dark circles, disheveled hair, red eyes, and the smell of alcohol.

“My beautiful baby,” he said, placing his hand on my cheek and smiling.

“Chris, have you been drinking?” I asked, concerned, before going to lock my door.

“I missed you so much, Y/n,” he said, sitting on my bed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” I sighed.

“Why didn’t you answer any of my messages, baby? What did i do wrong?” he said, looking up at me.

“Chris, you have to leave. You can’t stay here,” I told him, sighing.

“I’m not going anywhere until you answer me,” he said, crossing his arms.

“Oh God, please, I’m serious. If my parents find you here, they’ll kill me. It’s not a joke!” I told him, getting annoyed.

“Y/n, I don’t care about your parents. This is about us!” he said, standing up.

“But what ‘us’ are you talking about, Chris? There’s no ‘us’ anymore!” I replied, feeling tears welling up.

"Y/n, you can't do this to me; I just went through the toughest week of my life without you," he said, breaking down.

"Y/n, look at me, look at the state I end up in without you; I need you," he said, hitting his chest.

I was simply helpless before his speech; it killed me to see him so distressed, and it broke my heart not to be able to do more to help him.

"Look at how pathetic I am without you," he said, grabbing my hand.

"Chris, you have to leave now," I said, feeling a tear roll down my cheek.

"You can't give me the best moments of my life and take everything away like this overnight without giving me an explanation, Y/n. I'm sorry for what happened in the locker room; let me make it up to you," he said, getting upset.

I didn't know what to say; honestly, I wanted to tell him how much I missed him, but I had to let him go. The state he had just put himself in because of me was proof enough that this relationship was not good for him, and that's not what I wanted for him.

"Y/n, we'll find a solution, but you have to explain me the problem if you want us to get through this. I know you're not telling me everything, baby, talk to me," he said, locking his eyes with mine and placing his hands on my cheeks.

And I cracked. I cracked when I saw hope in his eyes, when I saw how much he wanted it to work. It was what I wanted too, but it led to nothing.

It would have been selfish of me to tell him how much I loved him, how much I wanted us to find a solution because I knew I had condemned myself. I knew that by giving him the slightest hope, I risked breaking him even more than I already had.

"Don't make things more complicated, please. I can't do this, Chris, go away," I said, crying.

"Baby, tell me what's wrong," he said in a trembling voice.

"My parents don't want me to see you anymore," I confessed, hoping he would understand, but I knew he wouldn't give up that easily.

"And is that the only problem? Y/n, if that's all, we can continue to see each other secretly. I swear I don't mind; they won't know anything! If that's what we have to do to stay together, then I'm ready to do it, ready for anything. But please, Y/n, don't end everything like this, I beg you," he said desperately.

"No, you don't understand. It will never work. What kind of couple hides their relationship from the world, Chris? You deserve better than that," I told him, shaking my head and stepping back.

"But it's you I want, Y/n. I climbed to your window, and it's with you that I want to spend the rest of my days," he said, advancing toward me.

His words were like shards of glass stabbing into my heart. As long as they remained, I knew the blood wouldn't flow, but I also knew I had to tear them out to heal.

"No, you're just drunk, and you don't mean any of what you're saying," I said, shaking my head and trying to hold back the tears.

"I'll tell you all this again tomorrow when I'm sober, and I'll tell you every day of my life if I have to. But, Y/n, please, I need you; I can't do it without you," he said, a tear running down his cheek.

I stood there, staring at him, crying, and he took me in his arms.

And I felt those same shards pierce my heart again because of the comfort I could find in his arms. I wished to die there, die in his arms.

"I'll fix everything, Y/n, I promise. Let me fix everything for you," he said, stroking my head, and my heart was never heavier than at that moment.

I cried so much I had trouble breathing; I couldn't stop. I was in his arms, and I knew it was probably the last time.

"Y/n, I love you; don't let me down," he said in a weak voice, and I left his arms.

I looked at him with tear-filled eyes; I wanted to scream that I loved him too, but I couldn't. So I closed my eyes and screamed it in my head without letting the sound escape my mouth.

He looked at me confused, and I bit my lip to stop my sobs.

"Y/n, please," he said, sighing.

I shook my head, and he started to move towards me, but before he reached me, I told him everything.

I had to tell him the truth if I wanted him to understand, even though I knew it meant stabbing him in the heart.

"My parents are sending me to another school, Chris," I said in one go.

"What?" he said, confused, stopping.

"They don't trust me anymore. They're sending me to a private school on the other side of the country," I told him, trying not to cry.

He took a step back, completely disoriented when he heard that.

He sat down on my bed and ran his hand over his face, letting out a few sobs that broke my heart.

He had just realized the situation; he had just realized it was hopeless.

I stood there, watching him realize what I had just told him, and it was horrible, but at least now he knew it was over for good.

"It's okay," he said, wiping his tears and getting up. "We'll find a solution, Y/n. I'll come to see you."

"No, Chris," I said, crying.

"Yes, I'll fix it. I'll sort this out," he said, pacing back and forth.

"Chris please..." I sighed.

"I'll just set aside some money to come and see you," he continued, completely in denial.

"Chris-" I said, with a weak voice, still crying.

He lifted his head towards me and immediately came to wipe away my tears. "Don't cry, baby, it's okay, it's not a big deal."

"You have to let me go," I replied in a voice so weak that I almost doubted he heard it.

"No, Y/N, we just got together, stop saying such things," he said with a fake laugh, trying to conceal his sobs before placing his hand on my cheek.

"Chris, you have to let me go," I said, placing my hand on his cheek with a reassuring smile to show him that it would be okay.

"No," he said, letting a few tears fall. "Y/N, I'll handle this, I promise. I'll do it for us," he continued, wiping his tears and placing his other hand on my cheek. "I'll fix it."

"There's no 'us' anymore, Chris; it's over," I said.

"So what, you're going to give up at the first problem?" he said, raising his voice.

"You're just going to throw everything away just because your parents don't want you with me?" he said, getting upset.

"Y/n, fight for us, for me... for yourself," he said, desperate.

I wanted to answer him, but I had nothing left to say; it was too hard. It hurt too much to see him break his heart over me like this.

"I'm ready to fight for you, and you're giving up just to please your parents, seriously, Y/n, damn it," he said, cracking.

He placed his hands back on my cheeks, "You're not going to let your parents separate us, baby, I-," he started before I cut him off.

It was too much for me; I couldn't continue to stand there listening to him beg me to fight for him when I couldn't.

"It's over, please go now," I said, removing his hands from my face.

"You don't mean it, Y/n; you can't even say it properly. You don't want it to end; I told you we'd find a solution," he said, getting frustrated.

I closed my eyes before taking a deep breath; I felt like I was suffocating.

"Y/n, if you want me to leave, look me in the eyes and tell me clearly," he said, clenching his jaw.

I opened my eyes and tried with all my might to hold back my tears.

I tried to contain all my pain; it was so unfair. Why didn't he just let me go? Why did he have to ask me to fight? Why did he keep pushing me to keep hope?

I didn't want to do it, but I had no choice; I had to tear the bandage off at once if I wanted Chris to be happy one day without me.

"Chris, it's over; I want us to separate i don’t love you anymore. This relationship is doomed to fail; go, please," I said in a harsh tone without looking away from him.

And I could almost hear his heart shatter in his chest.

I was dying to tell him that I didn't mean a word of it, but I didn't have the right to condemn him in this relationship.

He turned around and started walking towards my window, and before leaving, he looked at me one last time, his eyes shining with tears.

He was waiting for me to stop him, to grab him by the shirt and kiss him like the first night he climbed through that window.

He was waiting for me to crack like all the other times and tell him everything would be okay.

But this time, it wasn't the case, and when he realized that, he went through my window and left.

I collapsed on the floor; I had just put an end to the most beautiful thing that had ever happened to me.

I had just broken my heart and the heart of the man I love the most.

All this would never have happened if I hadn't kissed him that night.

If I hadn't let him into my room and into my heart.

I was convinced that love stories like ours never died like in books; I thought things would eventually work out, and a solution would come to us unexpectedly.

But life is a heartless bitch ready to rip your heart out when you least expect it.

The next week, I found myself packing my bags to leave Boston for good. Chris never climbed back through my window, and I deleted his number from my phone, hoping he would eventually find someone with whom he would have a happy ending.

We were just an anomaly in the system of lines that were supposed to remain parallel but ours ended up crashing into each other.

We consumed each other without knowing that this story had an expiration date, and I pay the price every day waking up far from him.

I pay the price every time I see something that reminds me of him.

A lacrosse jersey, a half-open window, a soda can—absolutely everything brought me back to him.

And I continued to search for a piece of him in every new person I met.

Even though I lost him, my love for him will never fade. Every day, I pray for my day to end quickly so I can find him every night in my dreams.

To the boy who made me realize how good love could feel.

And how painful it could be too.

Masterlist.

[hyperfixat]

hbd to me!!!!!!! here’s a vent fic i wrote a few months ago so proceed with caution; reader attempted suicide, reader continues to have suicidal thoughts/attempts, reader seeks harm onto themself (both from external sources and self inflicted), reader is depressed!!! be sure to evaluate your mental state before reading this fic :3. this also contains a scene that i felt compelled to write for some reason involving assisted hygiene: idk i felt that needed a little acknowledgment..

ik its my birthday fic and it proably should be happy, but theres a bit of hurt comfort to this that i love and i polished it up to share so that hopefully u like it too.. again heed my warnings^

also final note; formatted on my pc, sprry if its funky

The first thing you feel upon waking up is disappointment.  This… you rub your face with your hands.  You can’t do anything right, you sigh.  Waking up is a clear sign of a failure as to your plans.

Although you frown as you observe your surroundings, this isn’t where you would be if someone had caught you attempting to take your life.  You wouldn’t be dumped in the middle of a sunny field.  This isn’t a hospital or ward, in fact there’s no sign of any modern buildings from where you sit.

Just where are you…?

You use shaky arms to lift yourself up, and begin to attempt to find a way home.  Or for something to just kill you.

What luck, you realize morbidly, you spawned on a plateau, and that’s all you allow yourself to think before breaking into a sprint and running both to and over the edge.

You hit the plains with a crack and you wheeze out a pained groan.  Before you can lift yourself up to try again or seek help or check for any witnesses, you feel your body fade away. It’s a weightless feeling as you sink into the earth of Teyvat.

There is not much pain, not as much as you had hoped or expected.  In ways this is a pro, for you are a coward in the face of pain no matter deserved or otherwise.

You fade, but not into the hold of death, at least you don’t think this is death, rather you fade from your spot crumpled on the ground into a sitting position firmly in the arms of an Anemo Statue of Seven.  The marble orb of Barbatos’ lookalike stops you from falling out of the statue’s arms and you heave a sigh.

How unfortunate.  It seems you cannot permanently die here.  Though… what if it was a fluke…?  With another bone deep sigh you fall to the ground and walk back to the ledge and stare down at the fifty foot drop.

Before you work up the courage to take the plunge a high, excited voice calls out for you.  You flinch, opening your eyes to see a youthful bard dressed in Mondstatian green, holding his hands out for you.  Venti is sprinting towards you and you take a step back nervously.  He seems to recognize you… but how could that be?  

His face falls as you back away and his sprint slows when he’s a few yards away from being able to reach out to you.  Venti calls your name again.  He falters, the smile adorning his face slips.

“Wait…” his voice wavers.  “What are you doing, Divine One?”

Why did he call you that…?  Is it some Mondstat greeting of sorts?  You can’t kill yourself in front of him and retraumatize the poor guy, so you allow him to get closer to you, and you don’t stop him when he sweeps his lythe form down into a kneeling bow.

“Hello.”  You greet, unsure of how one is supposed to act when approached by a fictional character.

Venti lifts his gaze from the ground up to your face, looking downright awestruck.

“I, we, have long awaited your descent, Divine One, it is an honor to have you grace the lands of Freedom with your presence first.”  

Uh-oh.  He seems to have confused you with someone else, because you are certainly no one special and definitely not any sort of divine.  How are you gonna break that to him without too much embarrassment on either of your parts?

“Please, come with me to the city, I’m certain the people will be delighted to host the one who shaped the world.”  His voice is high with a musical lilt, and it’s hard to decline him.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out dry, and you realize you’re terribly dehydrated.  “I think there’s been a mistake.  I’m not whoever you think I am.”

You take a step back, backing yourself up the hill onto higher ground.

“Whatever do you mean, Divine One?  Your presence is unmistakable.”

You shake your head, stepping further away from the Archon.  Venti reaches his hand out to grasp at the bottom hem of your pajama pants.  “Please!  I’ve waited so long for you.”  He falls onto his knees to beg.

Fuck, his eyes are so pretty when he pleads.  You don’t want to risk angering whatever God he’s mistaking you with, though, “Venti….”  

The blue-green sky of his eyes turns to the color of the ocean as tears well up in his waterline.  His whole body shivers when you utter his chosen name.  “I can keep it a secret from the public.  Surely only Archons and those blessed with a Vision will be able to sense you.  We can keep it quiet, please, Divine One, I beg of you.”

“I’m not this Divine One you speak of,” you kneel and place a hand on his hat.  Venti’s eyes search yours with confusion. As he lifts his head, your hand presses into the curve of his skull, making him lean harder into your touch.

“Th-That’s okay, please just stay in Mondstadt for a night, that’s all I wish.”  He doesn’t believe you, that’s clear, but he seems so eager to appease you.

You pause, looking away from the pathetically begging archon.  His hands clench on your pant fabric.

“Okay.  Just for the night.”  You hope no one else from Mondsat is as strange as Venti is…

“I don’t have any way to pay for this,” you smile at Diluc, placing a hand on the side of the glass to push it back across the counter.

“I wouldn’t dream of making you pay, please drink all you wish.  Let me know if it isn’t to your taste.”

“Does that apply to their guide as well, Master Diluc?”

“No.”

“A shame,” Venti sighs, taking a deep drink from his glass.

You have to hand it to Venti, he is a good guide.  He’s quick to shut down any vision holder you come across with a quick whisper in their ear, and he truly knows Mondstadt in and out.

The bell above the door jingles as it swings open, and you glance behind you in time to see Rosaria come strolling in with a timid Barbara clutching the back of her cathedral robes.  She must not visit the Angel’s Share much, seeing as the hydro-user looks around with quick, nervous eyes.  When her eyes land on you they widen comically, her small hand darting out to steady herself on Rosaria’s forearm.

—

“Farewell, my Divinity,” “Safe travels, Divine One,” and “May the wind bless your travels, Your Grace,” follow your retreating form as you make the hike to Dragonspine.  

Honestly you aren’t certain where you’re heading.  If the other nations treat you the same as Mondstadt, that's a no-go.  You won’t know unless you go, though.  Maybe you should head the same route the Traveler would.  That would mean Dragonspine is your next destination.  

Who will you meet there?  Albedo…?  He’s the only one you can think of that stays there.

As you begin the trek you realize; he’s a research-type dude, you hesitate to say scientist, but he does experiments and such.  Perhaps, you can make use of yourself by giving your body up to him to work on.  Surely an undying body would greatly interest the research of life?

After a surprisingly simple search you find him and present your proposition.

“Absolutely not,” Albedo dismisses you without thought.  He doesn’t even bother to spare you a look.  “That is blasphemy of the highest order, I’d suggest giving that attitude up sooner rather than later.”

You flinch back at the words, taking a step back into the chill of Dragonspine.

“I can offer you sanctuary here if you seek it, but I will not harm you.”  

“That’s…” not at all what you want.  “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I must decline.”

His haunting blue eyes follow you down the snowy path to Liyue.  Once you are far too away to hear, he states calmly, “safe travels.”

As you walk down the icy paths lining the gravel streets you think… Albedo had rejected you just like that.  What’s the next step?

You might as well stop by Liyue Harbor, maybe meet some characters before… before maybe heading to Sumeru?  

Ahhah! It hits you then, the harbinger introduced in Sumeru: Il Dottore.  If Albedo had reservations, then Dottore would have none.

Even still, Liyue is a harbor.  You’re sure to find a way to Snezhnaya from there.

You almost get to the docks without drawing any attention to yourself.  Almost.

Your mistake laid in the fact that you passed the Golden House, the weekly Childe Boss fight.  In your defense you didn’t actually think he’d be in there.  And it’s not like you even went in, only going up the steps and around for a detour.  

And it was a quick route until a strangled gasp came from behind you, making you spin around in alarm.  There, Tartaglia stood, with pupils nearly the size of his gray-blue eyes, staring, completely enraptured by your visage.  Your knees buckle and you make to sprint, but your body is no match for a Fatui Harbinger.

In retrospect you’re not entirely sure what drove you to run, perhaps some fight or flight instinct buried inside of you.

His long hand wraps around your forearm, tugging you to a stop, you face him, and your face must portray your panic clearly because Tartaglia’s twists into sorrowful sympathy.

“My Divinity… it is an honor to meet you in the flesh.”

“Let go.”  He does, promptly so. 

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself.  May I ask where you are headed, and if you are in need of company?”

“No.  Thank you, Childe.” 

His face shifts into a serious look, nodding.  “Do you need an escort to Liyue then?  Is that where you’re heading?” 

“No.  I know where I’m going, and I much prefer to go alone.” It’s not entirely false, you know where you’re headed, just not how.

“Well… be safe, okay?  I hope to see you again.”

“I will.”  The lie comes out and you cringe, because its delivery falls flat and its so obviously untrue.

“Does Mr Zhongli know you’re here?  Surely you’re here to see Morax?” He strolls to your other side, offering a hand to lead you to the city.  You ignore the hand.

“Goodbye, Tartaglia.”

“I can’t let you leave alone in good conscience…. You don’t seem well.  Let me lead you to the harbor at least.”

Since he is as unmoving as stone, you let him take you to the main city, managing to ditch him before more people can know about your presence.

The boats docked at Liyue Harbor are hopeful.  “Where is this ship headed?” you ask one of the dock workers.  They look up at your voice before glancing at the ship they’re loading up with lumber.

“Snezhnaya.” They say glancing up at the grand vessel.  “Why?  Where’re you tryna go, friend?”  

“Snezhnaya.  How much does the fare cost, one way?”

—

“News of your travels have reached Snezhnaya, Divine One.”  Dottore starts, fixing his posture from a lean on a surgical table to something more proper.  You shake your head, the weariness you’ve accumulated on your journey weighing down on you.  You’re finally where you deserve to be.

“I’m not the Divine One you speak of, Dottore.”

“Hm?  Do you think so little of my intelligence?  Your presence is unmistakable.”

“No, it’s not that.  But I’m not.  I’m just a regular person.  And I came to you for a reason.”

“Oh?  The Creator themself, seeking me out?  It’s an honor,” the doctor bows to you, smirking at you from beneath his beaklike mask.

“I need you to hurt me.”

“What?”  He pulls himself up with a startled question.  “I’m afraid I misheard you, Divine One.”

“I can’t die, Dottore.  I’m giving myself to you, you…” you heave a sigh as you explain your reasoning.  “You could make use of me.  I’m not whoever you think I am, please just take me.  I don’t care what you do to me.”

“You’re… giving yourself to me?”  

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happens to my… patients?”

“Yes, that's why I’m here.  I can’t die, I imagine I would make a good test subject.”

“Is this a test?”  Dottore seems to be speaking to himself more than anything.  He pushes away from the table and paces to the back room of the lab, muttering madly to himself as he does so.  The door swings open with a loud screeching and you catch sight of multiple mops of blue hair and masks.  

His Segments.

You can hear a conversation ongoing between all of the parts of Zandik, it seems he doesn’t want to be rash and take you in too hastily.  You can understand his (their?) hesitancy; if a god offered themselves up to you, you would surely think it was a trap.  But you aren’t a god, so it should be a no brainer for him.  How often does he get consenting test subjects?

It seems this absurd idea of you being a higher power has infiltrated Snezhnaya as well, which is… not good. Everyone is saying you’re more than what you are, you can’t be a god, you barely consider yourself a human.

An older, completely unmasked Segment sticks his head out of the door, frowning once he makes eye contact with you.  There’s gray leaking from his roots into the teal of Dottore’s hair, and visible aging lines on his face; crows feet and tension on his cheekbones.  Glowing red eyes narrow upon meeting your own, mouth pulling into a tight line.

A younger segment, smaller in size and stature, with a nearly full face mask, only showing part of his mouth.  You think that is the one that the Fandom surrounding him dubbed Webttore.  You usually see pictures of him with a wide, jagged-tooth smile, but, like his older part, he looks solemn.

You wonder just how many Segments Il Dottore has, because you can still hear an entire conversation going on without the two.

The conversation seems to be dying down, not ending without a few red eyes peeking out from behind the door at you.  It’s surreal seeing so many versions of the same person at once; the youthful ones, eyes wide, and the older ones with wrinkles built with time and age, all at the same moment in time.

Eventually though, they do seem to come to a verdict: the Omega segment, the one you met upon walking into his lab, exits, closing the door behind him with a click that resonates through the room.

His answer is a simple word.  “No.”

Your heart drops and stomach sinks at the rejection, and based on il Dottore’s reaction it must show.  “Why?” your voice is small and sounds foreign to your own ears.

“I cannot forsake the true god in such a way, whether you acknowledge it or not, you have that power.”

All the turmoil and hardships it took to get here come crashing down, the light at the end of the tunnel is rejecting you.  You hadn’t known this was something that could happen, your… your savior, the one you were looking for is telling you no.  He won’t lay a finger on you, and it’s tearing you apart.  This was the only thing that kept you from burying yourself in the deep forest of Sumeru and letting yourself rot.

“Oh.” It’s shaky and you nod, trying to take it maturely.  “I see.”  Your voice is warbling like you're on the verge of tears.  Blinking rapidly to dispel the water from your eyes, you lower your head and make to scamper out of the lab.

Dottore lets out a heavy sigh, and his leather gloves wrap around your wrist.

“Wait.”  You nervously glance up at his mask.

“You said you would ‘give yourself to me,’ no?”

Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, “yes.”  Has he suddenly changed his mind? You shouldn't get your hopes up.

“I will take you.  I doubt you will appreciate my intentions, but if I were to own you, you wouldn’t be able to complain.  After all, you will have done it to yourself.”

You don’t know what those words mean, but the stinging rejection welling up in your eyes turns to relief. “Thank you,” he doesn’t stop you from dashing to his side and wrapping your arms around his waist.  You press your face into his abdomen, letting his clothes soak up your tears.  A hesitant hand rubs over your spine, an effort to soothe you.

You pull yourself together, sucking in a deep breath of the sterile lab air.  

“Alright,” Dottore says after he deems you put together enough.  “Come.”  His hand covers your wrist, gently tugging you behind him.  You aren’t sure where he is leading you, as he takes you out of the lab.  The halls are tall and gorgeously crafted, intermittent with intricate moldings on the wall.  

It’s a small room you find yourself in, but it is infinitely better than the wilderness.  The size is comparable to an average hotel room.  Dottore instructs you to sit and stay on the bed, which you do obediently.  Nerves swirl inside of you, as to where he has gone and what he will bring back with - when he will return, if at all.

Il Dottore knows.  While he is not well versed on human, much less godly, psychology, he can tell you’re depressed when you first stumbled your way into his workstation. Besides, he’d be hard pressed to deny the rumors from various agents that had been located in places you’d traveled through.

With a small caddy in his hands Dottore kneels next to the nightstand and places a hand on your shoulder to force you to lay down.  “Arm.”  Is what he prompts for you to let him maneuver your arm to lay open and flat over the edge of the bed. 

The scent of alcohol alerts you to the sanitary wipe before you feel the chill of it.  You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you feel the slight pinch of a needle  and a clicking as an IV is deposited into your arm.  Out of the corner of your eye you see Dottore set up a drip, but you don’t bother to ask what it is, the excitement of the day catching up with you.

Il Dottore eventually leaves the room in silence after pushing an odd vial of liquid into the drip, not bothering to look behind him as he closes the door and leaves with confident strides.

Although it’s entirely possible it’s simply the Placebo Effect, as the drip spreads throughout your veins you can feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier.  Before long you can no longer keep them open and slip into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to a Mirror Maiden tidying up the nightstand next to you.  You observe her work, wondering how she can manage to navigate with the blind pulled over her eyes.  She startles when she catches your eyes on her, though returns back to work, quietly disposing of the used needles from earlier.  You wonder what The Doctor has injected you with; wonder if he added more of whatever it is while you were unconscious.

There’s a brisk, impatient knock on the door and the Maiden straightens up, taking hold of everything to discard and striding over to change positions with Tartaglia behind the door.

You stay flat on your back, looking at the ginger in mild surprise.  Last you saw him he was in Liyue and set to stay for quite a while.  Had he heard you gave yourself away to Il Dottore?   Is he here to plead for you to change your mind?

But to your bemusement he stays quiet, walking over to and kneeling next to your bed.  Instead of speaking he merely rests his head on the nightstand, dull blue eyes gazing at you sadly, yet reverently.

You’re unsure of how long you look up at the ceiling, doing your best to ignore Tartaglia’s eyes on you.  His gaze is unwavering, and eventually, you turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry for my behavior in Liyue.  I was too excited to see you, and my manners deserted me.”

“It’s okay.” You croak, throat dry from sleep.  “I was dismissive as well.”

Dottore doesn’t bother to knock when he comes in.

“I see you’re awake and seem to have found a stray harbinger.”

Tartaglia doesn’t react to his entrance, merely moving to the far end of the bed, laying his head on the covers near your feet.  You realize someone has drapped a plain, solid color duvet over your body when you slept. 

“Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary?” Dottore asks, checking the emptied IV bag.  He unclips it and pulls a fresh one from his lab coat pocket.

You take the moment to assess (how do you spell it) your body.  In all honesty you’re feeling much better, the hydration from the drip really made a difference.

“I feel hydrated.”

Dottore hums, he sounds disinterested.  “How’s your appetite? Can you stomach anything for me?”  He clips a new bag onto the pole, screwing it into your IV’s tube. “Stand if you can.” 

Dottore’s eyes watch you intensely behind his mask, observing how you tremble when you put a leg onto the floor.  “Childe, help them and follow me.”

Tartaglia scrambles to steady your arm as you fully get out of the bed, wrapping the one without the needle in it around his shoulder to support you.  You stiffen, but aren’t in any position to be able to get around without him, not with the emptiness of your stomach and the way black fades into your vision when you stand.  “Get them to the restroom, take care of their needs.  I will return with what they will eat.”

“Come on, I got you,” Tartaglia assures as he leads you to the ensuite restroom. It’s nothing too fancy; simply a sink, shower, and toilet.

You eye the toilet, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve relieved yourself.  A shower would also be nice…

“Allow me to assist you, Divine One,” Tartaglia remains stoic and respectful as he shimmies your pants and underwear down your legs, letting you support yourself on his broad shoulders as you step out of the pant holes.  After making sure you get to the toilet safely he turns around and starts the shower faucet.

The sound of the water helps you get over your pee shyness and by the time Tartaglia finishes soaking and preparing a cloth for you, you’ve finished and are ready to bathe.

With weak arms you gather the hem of your shirt in your hands and remove the remainder of your clothes.

Tartaglia helps you get clean with warm, respectful touches, passing you the cloth for you to clean more intimate areas, before helping you out of the shower and wrapping a large, soft towel around your body.  It’s huge, covering the top of your bust to well past mid-calf, looping around your body almost twice.  He tucks the towel tightly with practiced precision. 

“Il Dottore will be back soon, I’ll help you get dressed before he returns.  Do you have any material preferences?”

—

You sit up in bed, feeling marginally better than the day before.  The day after that, and the day after that all proceed in a similar fashion; each time you feel just a little bit better.  More clear headed, a better appetite, less like a corpse walking.

Only after Dottore deems you well enough to remove the IV do you get your suspicions that it was more than just the proper nutrition making you feel better.  He still stops by your room twice a day for some shots; he encouraged you to choose where he would deposit them (when you said into your brain or through your chest, it did not amuse him).  It feels suspiciously like the antidepressants you’ve been on before.  

It only further confuses you, though.  Does he want you in a proper state of mind for something?  He has no reason other than unfounded faith to help you, you don’t like it.  It’s … uncomfortable receiving this type of care, knowing it’s only because they think you're better than who you really are.

The food they feed you, the clothes they dress you in, it's all much more than you deserve.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Pardon?” Dottore sets the syringe down with a metallic click.  Through his mask you can feel his gaze on you.

“You’re… you’re trying to— to…” the words fail you.

“Mitigate your depressive symptoms?  Yes, I am.  What of it?”  Il Dottore picks the syringe back up, pushing the knob back before stabbing it into the vial in his hand. He pulls the liquid up with ease before removing the needle and pushing to remove the excess air in the syringe.

“Why?”

“Hm?  Why would I not?”  He flicks the syringe and some liquid flies from the point of the needle.

“If I were anyone else you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Indeed.”

“Haven’t you realized by now that I’m not who you think I am?  That I’m just a normal human in a horrible situation of being unable to die?”

“That is not so.  Your skin cultures and biopsy results do not share that conclusion.  Even if you continue to deny your god-hood, it changes nothing. I know for certain who you are, and you will remain in my care until you utilize your divine right to revoke such.”

Biopsy? When on Earth — Teyvat? — did that happen?  But there’s more important things to discuss with him for now, not that you care how or when it happened.  You’re more surprised you never noticed, that’s all.

“You’re wrong!”  You wail, tears finally coming for the first time in a while.  You had thrown your head back to speak, but now you collapse in on yourself with your head between your arms and legs.  It’s humid, but saves you from having to look at the doctor and his unreadable bird mask.

“Oh my,” you hear Dottore murmur, then he sets his medical supplies to the side and places a hand on your shoulder. He remains there while you sob, when finally the lack of speech seems to reach the boiling point, he heaves a sigh.  “If it is of any consolation, if it were to come to my attention that you are not in any way godly or divine, I would treat you the same.  I’ve put far too much care into you to just toss you aside..”

That consoles you, if only a little, damn the drugs making you want to continue life to see the future.   But you broke the dam of tears, and it’ll take a while for them to stop; you need to cry out everything that led you here….

Your… attempt that put you in Teyvat, the one you tried right after arrival, the false death, all the eyes and praise that aren’t meant for you.  It’s dysphoric.  

The lurches of your body with your cries, stitches your sides and you sniffle harder into the crevice your body makes, the moisture of the confined body space blending in with your tears.

“There now,” Dottore says, quieter as you get so as well.  “Perhaps some more rest will do you good.  I’ll be at the ready whenever you wake.”

[thelov3lybookworm]

Remember Me? (Part 12)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Summary: Under the Mountain, Y/n met the High Lord of the Night Court, Rhysand. She was scared of him, but soon she found out that he wasn't who he pretended to be. Despite her efforts at not falling in love with him, she fails. It's not that bad as he loves her back.

But now he's gone, and she's left alone with nothing.

Except for a very adorable reminder of him.

•○●⛦●○•

Tw: secret pregnancy, none more that I can think of, so let me know if I need to add anything.

A/n: heh

thats all i got to say lol

enjoy!

•○🌑○•

Y/n rose her eyebrows at Eris, waiting for him to begin speaking.

Sometime ago, a servant working in the Autumn Court's palace had informed Y/n that Eris was looking for her, and Y/n had rushed to meet him. Now she stood facing him, just like that night a month ago, the gentle evening breeze curling in the air, making the leaves outside the large window rustle softly.

It also didn't go unnoticed by Y/n that this was the same window that she and Eris had stood in front of that night Feyre had arrived in autumn court.

"You know how each year we have a high lord's meeting since the war with Hybern?"

Y/n nodded. It had become common knowledge that to prevent any more disputes between the courts, the High lords had decided to meet every year.

"This year Autumn is supposed to host the meeting, and the meeting is in a week's time."

Y/n blinked. "And?"

He rose a brow. "All the court's officials will be present."

Dread spread through Y/n when she realised. "Is Rhys going to be there too?"

His eyes flared with something like rage before his expression smoothed out. "No, because I have barred him from the court, but some of the members of his inner circle will be present."

Y/n heaved a sigh of relief. "And why are you telling me this?"

"So you can warn Feyre of it. The members are going to question if they find Nyx running around the corridors. Tamlin is also going to be present, and I don't know if you know of their history, but it was a messy situation she left him in."

Y/n nodded. "I'll let her know. Anything else?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes travelling leisurely to her feet and back to her eyes, making her heart start racing when he stepped forward

Only when she could feel his breath on her face did he stop advancing and speak, and Y/n ignored the urge to take a step back.

"One thing. Keep that bastard's name out of your mouth."

Y/n suppressed a shiver, instead lifting her chin and meeting his gaze head on.

"And what if I don't?"

"He will find himself incinerated." He murmured, the embers of a fire beginning to form in his eyes.

"Who do you think you are to tell me whose name to keep out of my mouth?" Y/n had no problem in not speaking her former lover's name, but an opportunity to get Eris riled up was too good to pass up.

There was an inferno raging in his eyes as he pushed the words out with gritted teeth.

"No one."

Though Y/n was disappointed, she wondered why she even expected a different answer.

"I will speak whomever's name I wish, then."

He looked away, his jaw clenched.

A muscle began feathering in his jaw, and Y/n blamed what she did next all on her distracted mind, but she reached up, gently running her fingers on that muscle in his jaw.

He stiffened instantly, and despite wanting to pull back her hand, her mind wouldn't let her.

He turned his head to her again, a different type of fire in his eyes now.

His eyes dropped to her lips, and Y/n held still as he leaned closer.

The air between them changed, becoming charged. Y/n waited with baited breath, not daring to take in necessary air in fear it would prompt him to turn away.

His hot breath washed over her face, and her eyes fluttered closed. Anticipation coursing through her very veins alongside her blood, she waited for that first caress of his lips.

Only it never came.

What did come, though, was the sound of screaming children, and Y/n and Eris barely had any time to jump apart before the kids came into view.

Y/n sighed, caressing the wall, pretending that she hadn't been about to kiss the high lord.

When the pattering feet came closer, she turned, flashing the little kids a dazzling smile as they came to a stop next to her feet.

"Auntie Y/n! Do you want to play with us?" Nyx asked, his eyes glittering.

There was obviously nothing else Y/n had to do, she agreed. Especially with what almost happened occupying her mind, she was sure she would not be able to focus on anything.

"Come, we have a few hours before dinner time, so we can play."

The children grabbed her hands, beginning to drag her away.

Y/n felt eyes on her all the way until she turned a corner and disappeared from his view, which did nothing to cool the warmth on her skin.

Feyre spoke up when she caught up to the Fin and Nyx, who were debating on what to play while Y/n watched.

"How about we play hide and seek?"

Y/n knew Feyre had questions, and so she didn't argue when she decided that Y/n and She would seek the kids.

"Y/n?" Feyre said as soon as the kids were out of earshot.

"Yes?"

"We need to talk."

Y/n sighed, nodding.

•○🌑○•

General Taglist: @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @harrystylesfan2686 @cassie6392

Eris Taglist: @kennedy-brooke@hnyclover@minnieoo@sidrapotter

Remember me Taglist: @holb32 @awoa1 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @luvmoo @we-were-beautiful @eerievixen @zoe2 @fussel9913 @j-pendragonx @thesnugglingduck @jesssicapaniagua @devilsnightz @esposadomd @littleffawn @mandowhatnow @bubybubsters @eos-princess @nightless @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @princesslolaasworld @asemkta @cat-or-kitten @txzii @bunnyredgirl @theofficialmadman @leeknows-wife @aria-chikage @amygdtjhddzvb @azriels-mate123 @inky-clover @kemillyfreitas @12358 @justdreamstars @cuethedepession @princessvesta @fides25 @nocasdatsgay @acourtofbatboydreams @stained-glass-eyes0708 @glaciuswduo @wallacewillow0773638 @cassie6392 @quackitysdrugdealer @txzii @anuttellaa @coisas-da-dani @hnyclover @sassyslytherinshai @historygeekqueen @why4anne

[agentstarkid]

MY THOUGHTS WILL ECHO YOUR NAME ✦ DR3

✦ pairing: daniel ricciardo x famous!latina!reader

✦ words: 1K

✦ warnings: female!reader, latina!reader, fluff, there's a nine-year age gap. This is completely from Daniel's POV and what happened after he met Girlie, so it's pretty much him-centric.

✦ pit wall live: TA-DAAAAA!! y'all thought I'd leave you without Daniel simping over Girlie the night they met? Nah lol and btw, not my first language, sorry if there's any mistake <3

「 First part here ♥ 」

─── The Joker & The Queen (Masterlist)

He watched her walk away with her friends, he couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The night had flown by, each moment with her more captivating than the last. Her laugh, her eyes, the way she listened so intently—it all felt effortless and real. He couldn't shake the memory of how nervous he'd been earlier in the night when he first saw her across the crowded room. It had been a long time since he felt that kind of anxiety—he hadn’t felt that way since the night he approached Jemma, his high school sweetheart, in that nightclub years ago. They had broken up in 2016, and since then, no one had made him feel quite as excited or uncertain.

He noticed how she sighed and smiled as she gently steadied her friend, showing her caring nature even amidst the chaos. When she glanced back at him, their eyes met, and he felt a giddiness he hadn't expected. He waved, hoping she saw the sincerity in his smile.

Lost in his thoughts, Daniel replayed the evening in his mind. He remembered how his palms had grown sweaty and his heart had raced when he decided to go talk to her. He had been drawn to her laugh, her smile, the way she exuded warmth, a presence that reached him even when he was standing far away. Approaching her felt like stepping into uncharted territory, a thrilling mix of fear and anticipation.

Just then, his friends came up behind him, breaking through his reverie with playful nudges and teasing grins. “Hey, Romeo,” one of his best mates, Blake Mills—a.k.a. Tall Blake—, called out, “you were pretty into her, huh?”

“Yeah, bro,” this time Blake Friend—a.k.a. Manager Blake—chimed in, “we've never seen you like this, bro. Must be something special.”

Daniel chuckled, trying to play it cool, but he couldn't hide the genuine smile spreading across his face. “Maybe she is,” he admitted, his gaze still lingering on the spot where she had disappeared.

As Daniel's friends continued to tease him, he couldn't help but smile, their light-hearted jabs contrasting with the seriousness of his thoughts. “Come on, guys, give me a break,” he said, though his grin betrayed how much he enjoyed their banter.

“Seriously, though,” Carlo—Rigolini, who, as well as Blake Mills and Baz Martino, was a childhood friend—said, sobering slightly, “you looked really happy talking to her. Haven't seen you like that since, well, you know…”

Daniel nodded, appreciating his friend's unspoken reference to Jemma without needing to delve into it. “Yeah, she was different,” he admitted, his mind drifting back to the brief, intense connection they'd shared. “I haven't felt like this in a long time.”

Baz clapped him on the back. “Well, you better hope she felt the same way. Maybe you'll get another chance.”

Daniel nodded, his thoughts swirling with possibilities. He knew he had to take the initiative if he wanted to see her again, and suddenly his phone felt invaluable with the new number saved on it. The memory of their laughter, the way her eyes sparkled under the lights, and the easy flow of their conversation all played over in his mind, making him more determined.

As they started to leave the party, Daniel's thoughts remained with her. The night had been a whirlwind, and he hadn't expected to feel this way again. The prospect of seeing her again filled him with a mix of nervousness and excitement, much like when he first approached Jemma all those years ago.

“Alright,” he said, turning to his friends with a renewed sense of determination, “let's get out of here. But mark my words, I'm definitely going to see her again.” His friends cheered, playfully encouraging him. 

As Daniel and his friends began to gather their things and head out, Martin approached them, his usual confident grin plastered across his face. “Hey, guys, had a good night?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with the afterglow of the party's success.

“Yeah, man, it's been great,” Daniel replied, still buzzing from his encounter. They chatted for a few minutes, exchanging stories and laughs about the night's events.

Finally, Daniel scratched the back of his head, looking slightly sheepish. “Listen, bro, I know you wanted to introduce me to someone tonight, but I ended up meeting an amazing girl on my own.”

Martin's grin widened, and he clapped Daniel on the shoulder. “Dude,” he chuckled, “that was her!”

Daniel blinked in surprise. His brown eyes widened and his lips formed an "O". “Wait, what? That was her?” he whisper-screamed dumbfounded. 

“Yeah, man,” Martin said, laughing at Daniel's astonished expression. “I saw you two hitting it off and decided to let things play out naturally. Looks like it went pretty well, huh?”

Daniel shook his head, a smile spreading across his face as the pieces fell into place. “I can't believe it. She's incredible.”

Martin nodded. “I had a feeling you two would get along. Glad I was right.” The Dutchman then gave Daniel a playful nudge. “So, did she end up being your New Year's kiss?”

Daniel blushed slightly, making a face that showed both regret and disappointment. “Mate, I didn't kiss her, and I should have,” he admitted. “but I didn't want to come on too strong.”

At this point, Daniel's friends joined in the teasing. “We can't believe you even had the guts to go talk to her on your own,” One Blake said, giving him a playful shove.

“Yeah,” the other one chimed in, “you've been out of the game for a while, bro.”

Daniel chuckled, though the blush on his cheeks deepened. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, guys,” he said sarcastically, but he couldn't hide his grin.

As they wrapped up their conversation, Daniel felt a renewed sense of excitement. This unexpected twist only deepened his determination to see her again.

“Thanks, Martin,” he said earnestly, feeling grateful for his friend's matchmaking efforts.

“No problem,” Martin replied, waving them off with a knowing smile. “Good luck, man.”

As Daniel and his friends walked out into the cool night air, he couldn't stop thinking about her. The laughter and teasing from his friends continued, but his mind was already planning how he might see her again.

One thing was certain: this New Year's Eve had marked the beginning of something special. And as they made their way back to their hotel, Daniel couldn't help but feel that this was just the start of a new chapter in his life.

✦ may's radio: would you guys like to read about any other specific scene in the fic? 👀

[eddiesxangel]

Hellooo today is my birthday, sooo since im alone and nobody came to wish me a happy birthday,cab you do one where Eddie is the only one that remembers reader birthday and decides to reunite the whole Hellfire club to give a party that reader (us) deserve 🌹🌹🥳😘🥰

OMG HAPPY BIRTHDAY SWEETHEART 🩷🫂 ( I hope I can help with the birthday blues 🥺) my birthday is also this month, Gemini twin! ♊️ 👯‍♀️

Sometimes, you dread today because the impending disappointment is always there... Did you expect everyone to wish you a happy birthday? No. But you still want at least one person to acknowledge your day, especially your best friend.

Yet, here we are, 3:00pm and still not a call or mention of anything remotely birthday related.

You impatiently watched the clock that hung on the wall of Family Video tick, watching the minutes pass so slowly. It was dead, but what did you expect? It's three in the afternoon on a Wednesday, and not many people come in on weekdays to be in with... Until you see a familiar metalhead bopping past the large window and through the door, making his grand entrance.

"Sorry, I'm late, sweetheart." He schmoozed as we walked towards you at the checkout counter.

"It only took you long enough," you rolled your eyes, suppressing the feeling of our heart fluttering; maybe he remembered after all.

"Come on, what kind of best friend would I be if I didn't at least apologize for returning this fantastic movie six days late?" he smirked as he leaned an elbow on the counter.

There it was, the inevitable disappointment. He had forgotten.

With a heavy sigh, you take the slasher film from his grasp and think for a split second about not waving the late fee.

"This was supposed to be in on May 30th... It's now the fifth." You deadpan, hoping maybe something clicks.

"I know that sweetheart, but now I have an excuse to see my best friend at work on her birthday." He smiles knowingly.

The breath you didn't know you were holding gets released, and you cannot help but smile.

"You didn't think I had forgotten?!" Eddie steps back dramatically while metaphorically clutching his pearls.

"Well, since you're the first one to acknowledge my birthday and it's..." you look at the clock you've been watching all shift. "3:49pm. Yea, I didn't think anyone would have remembered." You look down, playing with your nails.

"What do you mean the first to acknowledge your birthday?"

"Exactly that," you shrugged.

" You mean like no one has said happy birthday yet?" He raised a curious brow. " Not Dustin, Mike, Max, Erica?" He could go on bit you cut him off by shaking your head no.

"Well, I am sure glad I got to be the first." He smiles, and you can't help but smile back. Eddie has always been a good friend. Ever since you met in high school when you became a part of the Hellfire club, you've been inseparable ever since.

The back door opens, catching both your and Eddie's attention, and Steve walks out, chewing on a half-eaten sandwich.

"Sup, Munson," He mumbles.

"Come in to wish y/n here a Happy Birthday," he emphasized, and you could not help but roll your eyes.

"Today is your birthday?!" He almost choked on his food. " Why didn't you say something!?"

"It's not a big deal."

"It is! and it makes me look like a total ass."

"Steve, stop. You're not an ass... Doofus, maybe, but not an ass." You giggle.

"I'll give you that because it's your birthday. Happy Birthday"

"Thanks, Stevie"

"So, any big plans? He asks, looking at you, then to Eddie, then back at you.

"Umm, no, not really."

"Yes"

You and Eddie say in unison, and you look at your friend quizzically.

" Don't make any plans for Saturday night, okay?" he taps the counter before taking off.

"Okay? Bye?" You wave after him, confused as ever.

"He's so weird." Steve looks to you.

"Yeah, tell me about it."

*

The rest of the week was average and went by quickly. The only thing Eddie told you was that you were expected to come to his apartment at 7:30 p.m. Which you did.

You knocked on the door and heard Eddie shushing people from the other side. With a huge grin on his face, he leads you into the apartment, and then around the corner, you're ambushed by your friends yelling, "Surprise!"

"Oh my god, what is this?!" you smile, this was very unexpected. Everyone was in their old Hellfire shifts and stood around a table that had been set up for a game of DND with some gifts beside it on the floor.

"We are celebrating your birthday." Eddie nudges your shoulder.

Tears threaten to form as you take in the sweet gesture Eddie set up for you.

"You did this from me?" You try not to sniffle but fail.

"Of course he did!" Dustin pipes in.

"Happy Birthday," Mike smiles. and the rest follow suit.

"Please tell me you didn't get me presents." You notice the gift bags sitting beside the table.

"Of course we did! What kind of friends would we be?"

"One's who forgot her actual birthday until I reminded them," Eddie sneered.

"It 's okay, we are all here now together; thank you guys, this means the world." And it did. Nothing meant more to you than spending time with the people you loved, playing a game you all love, and having fun.

It had been so long since the last Hellfire meeting, and you were so happy they could all make time from their busy lives to spend it with you.

"Ok, let's eat and then play!" Eddie turns to the kitchen, and you follow.

"Thank you, Eddie. I don't know how else I can show you how grateful I am for you."

"No need to thank me, sweetheart. What are friends for?" He leans in and gives you a wet kiss on the cheek, making that the second time this week Eddie's made your heart flutter.

[lili-harg]

• FAKE GIRLFRIEND •

• PART ONE

• PART TWO

• Gojo Satoru x Reader

It was a sunny Friday morning on the Jujutsu high school campus, where the four friends were on their break happily chatting about different youth topics.

Everything seemed to be going completely normal until the young y/h notices her close friend Satoru somewhat distracted and not with his smiling and joking personality.

Clearly noticing that lack of spark in his best friend, he decided to gently ask.

-"Gojo, what has you so distracted this morning? Usually you would have already made at least 3 different jokes" And the young woman was not lying, it was normal to see Gojo joke or chatter about something or simply laugh loudly, so finding him in That state was very strange.

After y/n had asked that question, Geto nodded agreeing with the young woman and said

- "It's true, what's happening with you?"

Gojo, who was absorbed in his thoughts moments ago, now faced the expectant gaze of his friends.

Scratching his hair nervously, he understands that it is time to declare what has kept him so silent.

-"You see, it's something about my father, he said something so stupid - he says trying to control his bad mood as he remembers - "he said I should take my girlfriend to my family's celebration this weekend"

As soon as you heard Gojo and girlfriend in the same sentence you feel a little disappointed, since you always felt something for your best friend, the white-haired one, but you never did anything to confess it, because everyone knew about the reputation of a womanizer that he has and you didn't want to ruin the friendship you've had since They were kids.

Shoko noticing your small disappointment (she was the only one to whom you had confessed your feelings for the young man of the Gojo clan) decides to ask to lighten the situation.

-"We could have the honor of knowing who the unfortunate one is, who is "Does your girlfriend call? Because as far as I know you've never had a girlfriend and the one that lasted a day and a half doesn't count" the young woman accused with a smile on her face.

At this question you and Suguru smile in attendance, although your smile was incomparable to that of Geto who was ready to laugh at the situation.

Gojo scratches his hair again more nervously and avoids your gaze

- "Well there's the problem (he sighs ready to give his statement) he thinks that you and I are a couple"

The black-haired man and the brunette burst out laughing but instead you You are completely reflected, on the one side you felt happy because you always wanted to have a relationship with the young man, but on the other sidd you are scared that the mere thought of being in a relationship with you is what has Gojo so disappointed.

So without thinking much you ask the white haired boy.

-"And what did you say to your father?" If you analyzed it a little, you would notice the desperation in your tone.

The three young people were waiting for the sky-blue eye's response.

-"I told him if I would take you to the party this weekend," he says, already showing his smile.

-"WHAT!? Did you go crazy Satoru? Are you lying to your father" and you couldn't blame his father since you and Gojo were inseparable and several times they have confused you with being a couple, but this time it was different, very different.

-"Don't worry, y/n, we just have to pretend that we are a couple for this weekend and everything will be fine," said the white-haired man, trying to reassure you. He is the same again, downplaying the matter, you respond

- "But it's totally different, plus it was just once to get those free sweets on Valentine's Day!!"

Shoko and Geto only exchanged funny and expectant glances because they both knew things and understood where this whole thing would lead.

-"Pleeaase Y/n just for this weekend" Gojo said in a pleading tone.

You decided that you would ignore your feelings, although that would cost you dearly later, or at least that's what you thought, and you would help your friend this time.

You sigh exhausted and nod saying

- "It's okay Toru, you win"

The white-haired boy smiles and jumps to hug you, which caught you quite off guard and a small blush that you tried to hide appeared on your face.

"Then get ready because tomorrow at eight pm I will have to pick you up to go to the party"

You nod and when you were going to answer the bell rings indicating that they should go back to class, the two sorcerers get up and say goodbye, leaving them alone.

Shoko, who notices your sadness no matter how much you try to hide it, says

- "Everything will be fine Y/n, it's just a party and maybe you won't even meet his father, you already know what their relationship is like"

if you knew that and that wasn't it. What worries you so much, but that you didn't want to hurt yourself by playing with your feelings, you felt like you were deceiving yourself.

You sigh and nod

- "It's just a party, what could go wrong?"

You clearly had no idea what that Saturday night would bring you.

[shadowdaddies]

Meant to Be - Part IV.

Dark!Manorian x Reader

Part One | Two | Three

A/N: I keep deviating from my outline but I expect there to be 2 (maybe 3) more parts to this story

Muffled shouts sounded through the air, the sound echoing painfully in your head. Gloved hands grabbed your arms firmly, hauling you up as your vision cleared to reveal your guards eyeing you with concern. 

“Miss, are you alright to stand on your own?” You turned to your right to see a young guard holding your arm - honey brown eyes searching your face with genuine concern. You hadn’t taken the time to really look at these men who were with you almost constantly in the castle - the four of whom had been watching your every move. An oversight on your part, which you would be sure to remedy. 

You eyed the guard up and down - he was quite handsome, actually, with dark brown hair and ivory skin, tinged pink from the wind - and made a show of smiling at him as you put your hand on his. “Yes, I’m alright. Thank you...?” 

“Ryon, miss.” You batted your eyelashes, giving Ryon your best doe-eyed, innocent look. You peered at the guard to your left - a slightly older gentleman with rich umber skin and graying hair - who was eyeing you with suspicion. You moved your hand to his lower arm, giving a gentle squeeze as you smiled brightly.

“And your name?” 

The guard’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “Arnoux, miss.” 

Rubbing your thumb soothingly along Arnoux’s arm, you stepped back slightly from the two men to stand on your own - all four guards still watching you intently. “Well, thank you both for your assistance. I do think that I should head back to my room, though. I am still feeling a bit faint.” 

Ryon and the other two guards - you’d have to remember to learn their names later - looked to Arnoux, who was still watching you closely, an air of caution evident on his face. His dark eyes never left yours as the man gave a curt nod, signaling his approval. Ryon gently guided you ahead so that you were walking with the other two guards ahead of you, Ryon and Arnoux close behind. 

You held your head high, mostly so that it was easier to make note of your surroundings without turning your head too much. You suspected Arnoux’s, admittedly wise, consternation towards you was due to your unabashed snooping, and you’d need to be more careful moving forward. 

The group arrived at the door to your room, a tall blonde guard who Ryon addressed as Warrick ushering you inside as Arnoux instructed him to alert their Majesties of your “incident” in the garden. You internally sighed, hiding your disappointment as the door closed behind you, locking you in the room once more. The clock ticked quietly on the wall - its hands revealing how late in the day it was.

You looked out the window to the garden below where you had just fainted, your pulse pounding when you remembered what was in your dress pocket. You let out an exhale when flowers brushed your fingertips - they hadn’t caught you with the foxglove. Rushing over to the armoire, you took the foxglove from your pockets, burying the flowers beneath your sleeping clothes. You closed the drawer and doors to the chest, hurrying back to sit on the bed before anyone might come in and see. 

The moment of rest as you sunk into the mattress was like a dam breaking open - the swell of emotions crashing down into a torrent of tears as you began to process the news. Your fiancé was alive, and here. This changed everything in your plan - you’d have to find not only your own way out of this castle, but how to help him escape as well. 

Now was not the time for planning, however, as you finally let the tears fall, crying audaciously for anyone to hear. You wanted them to hear - Arnoux, Ryon, Manon, Dorian. You would let the entire palace hear your pain. And when you were ready, the entire palace would feel your wrath.

The door burst open, interrupting your sinister daydream as Dorian rushed in, Manon right behind him. Dorian looked near to tears himself as he knelt before you, sapphire eyes studying you for any sign of pain. Your mind detested how your heart swelled at his care. “We hurried here when Warrick informed us that you fainted in the gardens. We’ve called for a healer, but I needed to see that you were alright.”

Realizing they were coming from the dungeons where your fiancé was supposedly held, you glanced discreetly towards the clock on the wall. Less than eight minutes for Warrick to get down to the dungeons, and for them to return. If you could find the path to where he was kept, you would be able to make your escape with your love. An idea came to you - this would take time, but would be worth it in the end. 

You turned to Dorian, slipping on the too-familiar mask of innocence you’d used on Ryon just moments ago as you sniffled and nodded into his hand that held your cheek. “I am feeling quite ill. The journey to the gardens was unexpectedly difficult for me. I was thinking, I should probably stay indoors for awhile. The library was warm and comfortable.”

You held back your smirk at the shocked look on their faces at your proposal, their predatory smiles of pleasure as they thought they’d finally tamed you. Little did they know that the fawn was luring the wolves into an archer’s range. 

[xelasrecords]

Tea! Would You Like Some?

Han Jumin x Reader

Jumin Week 2023 - Day 3: Quality Time @juminweek2019

High-quality time shared between two people highly stupid about their feelings. And for each other.

My x reader comeback after so long! Had a meet cute recently so y'all get a lighthearted crushing stage fic for once :)

Words: 3.9k

Masterlist Read on AO3

How soon you could come had no correlation to Jumin's expectation of seeing you materialise in his living room. At least, that was what he told himself. His traitorous fingers told a different thing. They had typed out a message asking where you were, if there was any problem with your ride, if you had input the correct address in your map, and if he needed to send out a search party if you didn't reply in the next five minutes, but that, he felt, would be too drastic.

Jumin erased the last part and sent the text. He sighed, fingers drumming on the arm of his white sofa. Contrary to Zen's belief, he was not one to blow things out of proportion. He always did just enough and everything else was simply a precaution.

Perhaps a five-minute grace was not precaution enough. Four minutes. He could wait for four.

The second his doorbell rang, Jumin leapt to his feet. He never considered the distance from the living room to the entrance too far, but now he doubted the interior design of his penthouse. Large spaces allowed him to breathe—until you took it away just by not reneging on your promise to visit. You were someone he had only met a handful of times, always with the other members and never at his own place.

Today was special. Today he decided to ignore his fear of being left behind by his loved ones and let you in.

You could be someone he loved. You could be the one who stayed.

Jumin composed himself and opened the door, and there you were, standing with your hands deep in your pockets, waiting for him.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight of you. Despite being mussed by the wind, your hair fell beautifully around your face like a divine frame that accentuated your features. Your eyes were bright, your smile was wide, and you were wrapped in a coat that must be your favourite. He never saw you without it. He wished he knew more about your fashion sense so he could gift you clothes that you would like. He also wished he was close enough to see himself in your eyes' reflection, but that time would come later. Everything had its order, and patience was a virtue that had been drilled into him since childhood.

"I have been waiting for you," said Jumin, not bothering to hide the relief in his voice. "Did anything happen on your way here? You didn't reply to my text."

"I was rushing." Your smile turned apologetic. "Didn't check my phone, sorry."

Jumin stepped aside to let you in. The fact that your hand could have grazed his had you walked nearer to him did not escape his attention. "No matter. It's all right now that you're here."

Leading you to the white plush sofa where he had waited with perfect calmness, he felt tense and oddly exposed, like he was anticipating a foreboding that might come to pass. He did not feel like Han Jumin. This was an iteration of him that he had not been acquainted with.

"Did I make you wait too long?" you asked.

"No," Jumin said. "You didn't have to hurry. You were not yet late." He hoped the sofa would be good enough for you. He had asked his housekeeper to clean off every speck of dust he could detect, twice over.

You sat down and stared at him with a look that he couldn't discern. "I wanted to be early."

Jumin took a seat beside you, careful to maintain a respectful distance despite his heart's protest. "You possess an excellent sense of time management. We will get along well." Compliments flowed out of him easily when it came to you. If you let him, he would graciously point out your strengths one by one.

But was that disappointment on your face?—though it disappeared before he could probe further. "Yes, I love time and managing stuff." You sighed. "That's why I'm the assigned party coordinator."

Now that you were at the spot where he had cast secret spells to summon you, Jumin wasn't sure what to say. He was desperate to know if you shared his jitters. You were motionless, spine straight and hands clasped on your lap, studiously watching the black television screen. There was nothing save for the blurred reflection of both of you sitting in a similar position. He had been imagining all sorts of exciting conversations with you, but your presence had flung them out of his head. This had never happened before. An MRI scan was in order after you went home.

It was possible that you were growing bored, though your affable expression had not indicated so. But it might not mean anything, for you always seemed pleasant. You were very, very pleasant to look at. It was also possible that he was the only one with an insatiable curiosity towards you. For all he knew, you could be with a partner and merely accepted his invitation to hang out with him as a newly anointed member of the RFA. And you were a member. This was a friendly meet-up, nothing more.

"Tea," said Jumin suddenly. His voice echoed in the silence.

Startled, your head snapped to him. "What?"

"Everyone in my family learns to brew tea," Jumin explained. "The tea leaves in my pantry are directly imported from China, obtained from the only six three-hundred-year-old Wuyi trees in existence. The legend of this tea can be traced back to the age of emperors and dynasties, and it has become extraordinarily rare over time. It has the best quality in the world."

"How did you get it if it's so rare?" You were trying to hold a smile back, but it was not a mocking sneer. There was a certain fondness in it that made him want to let all his guard down and pull you into his arms.

"Auctions," Jumin simply said. "You ought to try it. It will keep you warm." Only then he noticed that you still had your coat on and was promptly filled with horror. "My apologies. I seem to have lost my manners." He outstretched his arm. "Leave your coat with me. It can't have been comfortable sitting in that."

"Shame." You handed it over. "I was planning to take a nap in this."

"Is that how people normally sleep? Or is it a tradition unique to you?" Jumin folded your coat into a perfect half over his forearm. "I'd appreciate it if you could teach me your ways."

"I was joking, Jumin. Should I teach you how to make one?" you said, in a tone so kind that he was taken aback. People tended to laugh at his face or look away politely when he failed to understand a joke.

"There is no need. I already have a handbook for it." Jumin was unable to keep smugness out of his voice. "It includes a list of one hundred jokes that you can make to both family and work colleagues alike. I have made good use of it when I need to break the ice."

"But does it include learning how to take one?"

"Unfortunately, I have yet to encounter a book for it."

You squeezed his shoulder, and the warmth of your touch penetrated all layers of his clothing that he had carefully planned. Navy blue suit, black tie, complete with a beige waistcoat and white striped shirt. Everything was new. "Don't worry," you said. "It just means the joke isn't funny to you. A good joke will make you laugh naturally."

"I see." Jumin fixed his tie. "I promise to laugh at your next joke."

"I said naturally. Honestly, Jumin. Please don't plan for it. You're going to give me performance anxiety."

"Then I look forward to your performance." He smirked, and you groaned. Something about you brought out the childlike side in him that he didn't know was still alive. "If you would wait here for a moment. I shall brew you a cup of tea. It won't be long."

Without waiting for your response, Jumin stood up, hung your coat on the silver coat rack by the hallway, and headed to the kitchen. Something was wrong with him. A smile kept threatening to break out of his face and there was a palpable beating in his throat when it should stay underneath his ribcage and he felt giddy about something. He was sure that this was abnormal. Was he finally living up to Zen's senseless claim that he was a strange creature? Jumin stowed these additional symptoms away for his next doctor's appointment. Forget MRI, he needed a full-body checkup.

Jumin heard a soft padding behind him as he turned on the kettle. Your footsteps were quiet, almost drowned by the gurgling of the boiling water and it reminded him of the elegance of Elizabeth the Third. He'd introduce you to her when she decided to make an appearance. The thought of the two of you getting along put a smile on his face.

"I thought you would've offered me wine before tea. Are you really Jumin?" you teased, peering from behind him. He was scooping oolong tea leaves into the strainer in a precise measurement when his muscles turned rigid. Your chin was nearly perched on his shoulder. He regretted that you didn't.

But Jumin dearly wished he knew either. He paused and looked over at you. Now he could see himself in your mischievous eyes. Now he saw how happy he was. The opportunity came sooner than he was prepared for. His breath hitched. "Would you like some wine instead?" he asked, keeping his gaze steady. "I have a wide variety you can choose from in the cellar."

"Tea is fine," you said. "I'll take anything you give me, really."

"Beware," Jumin said dryly. "You have not known me long. There could be poison in your drink."

It took a second for his joke to register, but when it did, you started to laugh. Jumin was stunned, then relaxed when he realised you were not under any pretences of politeness. He felt as if he got a high score for a competition he had unknowingly participated. He never used to put high importance on winning. As someone who consistently broke his own records, achievements were just another thing that his office and father would hold a customary celebration for.

But you were different. Your laughter was a prize he wanted to win all the time. He liked seeing you in joy, and liked that he was the source of it. It was a high that he never wanted to come down from.

"Did you copy that joke from your handbook?" you asked.

"I came up with it on the spot," said Jumin proudly, and your grin widened.

Your eyes flitted to the only china cup laid out on the marble countertop. "Aren't you making another for yourself?"

Jumin shook his head. "I'm not in the mood for tea."

You lifted a brow. "I am so surprised."

Jumin's forehead furrowed in genuine confusion. "Why would you be?"

You flailed your arms about. "Is tea not your passion?" you said. "You were fired up when you talked about it. That's all you've talked about. If I didn't know you better, I'd think it's your favourite drink in the world."

"I merely wanted to keep you warm, and a cup of tea was the fastest way to do it." Actually, Jumin thought being embraced by him would be faster, but he doubted you would accept his advanced advances. "You're the one who has been on my mind, not tea."

"Not tea," you repeated.

"It's nothing compared to you," Jumin affirmed.

"Oh." You pressed your palm against your cheek. "That's nice. You're nice." You gave a perfunctory sweep at his polished monochromatic penthouse, sparse but efficiently filled with the essential household items. "Your place is also nice."

But you were looking at everywhere but him, and that didn't feel as nice. "You might be the first person calling me nice besides V," Jumin said, deciding to focus on the positive. "And V is exempted as he is my closest friend. I'm not sure how to feel about this, to be honest. I'll have to think about it later."

"Take your time," you said, finally looking at him. "I'm not going anywhere."

Quietly, Jumin poured hot water into the teacup and stirred sugar into the steaming amber liquid, allowing the clinking of the teaspoon to fill the space he couldn't. For all his desire to have his interest in you reciprocated, he could not picture the reality if you did. He wouldn't know what to do with himself. He wanted to invite you into his mind, yet was frightened by the thought of you being repelled after knowing him.

"Careful, it's hot," Jumin warned as you lifted the teacup to your lips. "Tell me, how do you find it? Is it to your taste?"

You took your time sipping the tea. He suspected you did it to keep him on his toes, and had to admit that it was part of your intrigue. Jumin could never guess your next move. Anything he predicted you would prove him wrong in the most delightful way possible.

You looked up from the rim of the cup. "What if I say it isn't?"

A connoisseur in understanding your jest now, Jumin replied, "I shall melt into a puddle and lie on the floor until you give me an honest review."

"I will mop your puddle and wring it out the window."

He looked at you thoughtfully. "I'd say I'm offended, but I heard that committing murder is an expressway to one's heart."

"Sometimes even literally," you agreed.

Jumin's eyes widened. "The double meaning escaped me. You are a genius."

You set your cup down on its saucer with a delicate clink. "But is murder the only way to your heart?"

Jumin forgot the mechanism of speaking. Due to his years of experience with women whom he never spared a glance for, he could detect the act of flirting when he saw one. And you were flirting. With him. He was eighty-nine per cent sure of it. You deemed him worthy to be flirted with. Jumin almost slid down to his knees.

"No." He managed to get a full sentence out. "No," he tried again, "but you don't even have to try. Whatever you're doing, you are doing it well." Two better sentences. Magnificent.

"That's too bad," you said. Jumin noticed that your hand was still wrapped around your cup, steam unfurling on the top of it. You must still be cold. "I've been waiting to hack through your chest with an axe."

Jumin walked towards the heater controller and turned it on. "Is homicide the only thing in your mind?"

"It's more of an ad break from the thoughts of you."

At that, Jumin turned around. You had been thinking about him. He knew how impossible it was to stop thinking about you, and your admission was making him lightheaded. Did you ever dream of him and then scramble for your phone the first thing in the morning just to hear his voice? Did you ever yearn to talk about him to your friends the way he did, except his only friend was doing his habitual disappearance and the loneliness was more profound now that you were his constant excitement but he had no one to tell it to? Did you have anyone you hold dear to your heart? Were you open to considering him as one someday? It was not yet appropriate to be so upfront with his questions, he knew.

But one question should be fine. "How long have you been thinking of me?" Jumin asked.

You leaned against the counter and crossed your legs. "I talk to you every day. So, every day." He wondered if your composure was a facade, the way his was.

Jumin nodded. "We share the same habit. I can't quite recall what I used to think about before you entered our lives."

"Your darling white cat, the cat projects that generate a steady loss for your company, and some new cat-friendly inventions? Jaehee's nightmares, basically."

Jumin chuckled. "You know me well. I must say I'm surprised." It wasn't so bad to be known. He could get used to the feeling. "Assistant Kang doesn't appreciate the fine things in life. It's a pity that Elizabeth the Third is hiding somewhere right now. If you see her, you'll understand why I do all those things for her."

"You love her," you said kindly. "I understand that enough."

Jumin stared at you. You kept saying the right things and he kept falling, falling, falling.

"You've finished your tea," Jumin noted, but not without regret. He dreaded having to let you go.

You studied the empty cup. "Wow, I think I inhaled it. You were right, it was the best tea I've ever tasted. Thank you."

"I hope you will stay longer. Do you have other arrangements for the evening?" Jumin, who had arranged his whole weekend around your visit, calmly inquired.

"I don't," you said, with just as much calmness.

"My collection doesn't stop at drinks," he said. "I have a brand new record player and an array of classic vinyls. You can peruse them if you'd like. A three-star Michelin chef will be flying in to prepare dinner and you can request anything you want, provided that you do it three hours prior. There's also a gym on the second floor, though exercising is probably not the best activity since you don't bring a change of clothes." He paused. "You don't happen to bring one, do you?"

"Jumin, I—no. But I could wear yours if I so desperately need to shower here."

He thought he saw your eyes suspiciously glittered, but it was gone when you blinked. "I don't have clothes that would fit you perfectly." He frowned. "They're all tailored to my body, you see. I'm afraid you wouldn't find much comfort in them. Now, would you like to sit down? I've made you stand for too long." He guided you to the kitchen island, fingers light around your wrist, and pulled out one of the brass bar stools. "Please excuse my bad manners today. Something must have come over me. I don't tend to be like this."

You settled in your seat only to swivel back to meet his towering figure. Your knees nudged his legs, and Jumin was stunned, unmoving. He thought an attraction was supposed to burn him alive, to light him up from the inside. What he felt now was akin to petrification. It crept up on him from the ground he stood and incapacitated his ability to form coherent thoughts.

"Jumin," you enunciated his name with great care. He had never thought his name was beautiful until it lulled out of your mouth. He wanted to brand it into his memory.

"Yes," he said, because it was the only thing his mouth could form.

"Your house sounds like a treat."

"That's because it is. You can entertain yourself here. Whatever you want, I will do my best to provide it for you."

"Other guys could give me those too. There have been some, you know," you confessed, and Jumin was torn between wanting to know more about your past and quelling down the illogical jealousy it spurred. "Gold-dipped bouquets with diamonds, fancy restaurants where they ordered for me without asking about my preferences, jewellery that I wouldn't pick for myself." Your voice was tinted with slight distaste, but it was gone in the next instance. "Do you think I was swayed by them?"

Now Jumin's gaze turned sharp. This was a test, he realised. Your intention was not to compare him to other men, nor was it to flaunt how desired you were. Jumin knew the latter well without needing you to prove it to him. He felt the torrent of his desire all the time. It threatened to wash him ashore and pull him back into the raging sea, never letting him be at peace until he could be certain you wanted him back. So what would you get out of your question? Whatever your goal was, he knew what he was supposed to do. You favoured honesty, just as he did. That was one of the many things he respected about you.

"I doubt you were," Jumin said. "Your affection isn't the kind that could be bought. I may not know you intimately, but I know you would not budge under insensitive bribery, and your tale reeked of one. What they did was foul and not driven by the best intentions. That's not how you, or anyone, should be treated."

Your expression softened as you reached for his hand. "I know you're not trying to impress me with your wealth. I'm sorry if I made you think so. I meant to show you that I'd be here even without you throwing those things at me. You called me just to meet up and I came right away. If I stay back, it's because I want to spend more time with you." You averted your eyes. "Did you have to make me say all that?"

Emboldened by your hold that you hadn't let go, Jumin tilted your chin and you leaned forward by a fraction. "You enjoy my company," he said, assessing your earnest face. He could hear his racing heartbeat in his ears. "But will you stay?"

"You'd really like an encore to embarrass me," you grumbled. "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"You phrased it as a hypothesis. I cannot be sure that staying with me is what you want unless you state it clearly," Jumin pressed. Though he was always surrounded by people, no one had ever bothered to stay. Not for long. Not for the person he was.

His fear and desperation must have shown on his face, for you let out a small breath and gently squeezed his arm, before trailing your sight to the empty cup waiting on the counter. "I think you should refill my tea," you said slowly. "I need more if we'll talk into the night, won't I?"

The warmth from your hold spread throughout his body and a smile broke through Jumin's face, his uncertainty receding. Someone as beautiful and brilliant as you, a gem rarer than his tea—for those tea leaves could be reproduced but you were one of a kind—wanted him as much as he wanted you. It was the first real smile he wore in a while. "We can switch to something stronger after dinner," Jumin suggested.

"Wine," you guessed. Oh, how he loved that you could read his mind. "I knew it. You always default to wine. Farewell, tea. His affair with you has been short but memorable."

Jumin was all too eager to agree. "Farewell."

Jumin hoped it would be a long, long time before his relationship with you could end. If it would ever end.

-

The footnotes that I thought would be an occasional extra but they just won't go away:

This fic is inspired by good dates and bad dates and that early crush feeling when you don't quite know the person yet so everything feels exciting and scary.

Don't worry, Jumin's tea rambles didn't deviate from canon. On day 8 he wishes you to learn tea brewing since all his family does it. I thought it'd be fun to highlight his nervousness by making him do something unexpected, especially since he's the type who would randomly do something out of pocket while still maintaining his gravitas.

The tea's legend is based on Da Hong Pao, a very rare, government-protected Chinese tea that you can only get if the president honours you some and from auctions. I didn't think I'd research that deep for accuracy for a mere fic but what am I if not committed.

The header is made to seem like a cheeky ad in the spirit of Jumin's tea endorsement. Contemporary fun with a touch of antiquity is what I was going for to capture the fic's mood and Jumin's preference. The challenge was to make a dynamic animation without looking flat or too complicated but still fit the time, format and size constraints. People still need to be able to immediately read the text, which means no over-the-top entrances and transitions. Truthfully, I die a little bit inside whenever I have to sacrifice aesthetics for function but it is what it is!

Buy me a glass of something that's definitely not coffee because I can't stand it but it is the website's name if my story touches you in some way? No worries if you don't. I'm still grateful you've read all the way through here.

[neon-lights-and-glitter]

Mixed Emotions - Part 3 Petty Arguments

Summary- After finishing her first year of law school, Jack asks Gabriella to come on tour with him as his stylist.

Over the next several months, Gabriella continued to periodically style Jack. She would never admit it, but she was enjoying it. Even though Jack and Gabriella didn’t always agree, in fact, they didn’t agree more than they did, but Jack knew that Gabriella was doing him a huge favor, especially since she was currently finishing her first year of law school. While it might have been a stretch to say that the two were getting along, they were definitely getting along better then they did at the beginning of the year.

Gabriella hated law school, she knew it was going to be tough, but she didn’t expect just how difficult it would be. It wasn’t that Gabriella wasn’t smart enough, she got into Emory University, a private university with the law program having an acceptance rate of 30% with no help from her parents. She had also gotten accepted into the University of Chicago’s law program, which had an acceptance rate of about 20%, but her mom had ties to the law program at that university and she didn’t want anyone to say that she only got in because of her parents. Which is why she completed the whole application for Emory University by herself.

It wasn’t even the difficulty of her classes, she was passing all of her classes with absolutely no issues. She just hated her classes. Gabriella realized very quickly that she did not want to be a lawyer, but she didn’t want to let her parents down.

The weekend after Gabriella’s university let out for the summer and she ended up spending the weekend at Jack and Urban’s apartment. 

“Hey Gabi?” Jack asked, sitting down next to her on the couch, Urban had left to go pick up dinner for the three. 

“Yeah?” Gabriella asked.

“I wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay, what do you want to ask me?”

“I was wondering, since you’ve been doing alot of styling for me, and I know you’ve been telling Urban how much you hate school, if maybe you wanted to do all of my styling for tour.” Jack offered.

“Jack. I can’t just drop out of school to be your stylist.” Gabriella sighed. “I’ve thought about dropping out, but it isn’t that simple.”

“But why can’t it be that simple? If you want to drop out of school, this is your chance. Why continue doing something you hate when I’m trying to give you the opportunity to do something that you obviously love.” Jack asked.

“You’ve never realized it have you?” Gabriella asked Jack.

“Realized what?” Jack asked, looking at her confused.

“That my parents don’t care unless it’s some big moment in my life. I’m not saying they don’t love me, but I was just never a part of their plans. My parent’s plan was to move from Chicago to somewhere where my mom could start her own law firm and my dad could start his own medical practice. They were so ecstatic when I told them that I was going to law school so that I could take over my mom’s law firm one day.”

“But they would want you to be happy with what you do, not stuck in some career you don’t want to be in.” Jack said.

“They want me to be happy, I’m not saying they don’t. I’ve never felt like they don’t love me or anything like that, but since they never planned on having kids, they’ve always just been more focused on work. I’m glad they didn’t give up on what they wanted because of me, but I do feel like I come second sometimes. I know dropping out of school would be disappointing for them, even if they didn’t show it. Even if they were happy that I was doing something that I loved, both of my parents are always so focused on work that I know it would be disappointing if I didn’t take over my mom’s law firm.” Gabriella explained.

“My parents showed up to things like high school graduation, birthdays, or award ceremonies, things like that, but if it wasn’t something special, or even that year I got a B in that one class, they didn’t acknowledge my grades that year even though I got an A in every other class. I didn’t get in trouble, but I also felt like I disappointed them. I know it will be the same if I drop out of school. I won’t get in trouble, but I know it will be disappointing.”

“Is that why your family moved to Kentucky? To start their businesses?” Jack asked and Gabriella nodded.

“Yeah, I didn’t want to move away from my home at five, leave all my friends, my nanny, I didn’t know anything different. My parents wanted to move before I started school though. They tried to get my nanny to move with us, but she had her own life in Chicago that she couldn’t leave. Which as a five year old, I was very upset that my nanny had her own life outside of me, but everytime we went back to chicago I got to see her which helped.”

“Your nanny as in your grandparents?” Jack asked and she shook her head.

“No. My parents hired a nanny when I was born. I had one nanny until I was two, then they hired a live-in nanny so it was easier when they went out of town. Then when we moved to Kentucky, my parents both had a work emergency, the only people they knew were your parents, since you lived across the street, and since Clay and I were a similar age and got along, your mom offered to watch me after that.” Gabriella explained. “I think I ended up spending the same amount of time with your family as my own, if not more.”

“Why don’t you just come on tour with me as my stylist for the summer. That way you won’t feel like you’re disappointing your parents while you figure out if you really want to finish law school.” Jack suggested and Gabriella sighed softly.

“Maybe, when does your tour start again?” Gabriella asked.

“Three weeks, but I think Urban and I are planning on going back home for the week before the tour, at least come home with us.”

“My parents aren’t even going to be in town.” Gabriella told Jack.

“But mine are, and my mom asks about you everytime I talk to her.” Jack said.

“I talk to her at least twice a week.” Gabriella said. “But okay. I’ll come with you both. And I’ll come on tour as your stylist.”

“Really?” Jack asked.

“Yeah. I’ll have to be back in Atlanta by August for school, but what if I hate touring?” Gabriella asked.

“If you hate touring, I’m not going to make you stay. My team will have you sign something but it’s more like an NDA, I told them not to put any specific dates on there for you working for me. I’m not sure why I’m explaining paperwork to you, you’re the one in law school, you can understand legal paperwork.” 

“Jackman Harlow. You told your team I’d do this before you asked me?”

“I uh, I knew you had finals and I didn’t want to stress you out more. I told them that you might not do it. They needed an answer.”

“Did you even think that I might say no?” Gabriella asked. “What if I didn’t want to tour with you? You do know you haven’t ever been the nicest person to me? I don’t have to do any of this for you. I should have known you weren’t pushing me to style you for the tour because you wanted me to come. You were doing it because you already told your team I would.” Gabriella snapped at Jack.

“Look, I was just trying to do you a favor. I knew you liked styling me, and I knew you hated school.”

“No, actually, I like styling. But it’s not just limited to you. I’d much rather style just about anyone else.” Gabriella interrupted Jack.

“You’re so fucking annoying. I was just trying to do something nice for you. ‘You haven’t been the nicest person to me.’” Jack mocked Gabriella’s voice. “Well I tried to, and you see where that got me.” 

“Doing something nice for me, would have been giving me an option before you said I’d do it.”

“Well does it really matter, you agreed to do it now.”

“Yes, it does matter Jack. I swear, you’re so lucky that Urban and Clay are going on tour with you too because if it wasn’t for them being there, I’d back out.” Gabriella told Jack.

When they were little, their arguments ended the same way every single time. Both of them pouting and making little comments back and forth because they both wanted to get the last word. Now that they were adults, nothing had changed. The only thing that changed was instead of Maggie defusing their argument, this time it was Urban.

Urban got home about 15 minutes later, finding Jack and Gabriella sitting on opposite ends of the couch, Gabriella had her arms crossed and Jack had his phone in one hand, they were refusing to talk to each other. 

“Okay, what happened while I was gone?” Urban asked, setting the food down.

“Jack said that I would-” “Gabi said that-” They both started at the same time before looking at each other and then back at Urban.

“You two are like my children.” Urban uttered underneath his breath. “Gabi first.”

“Why does she get to go first?” Jack complained.

“Because I like her better. Now let her talk before I have to put you both in time out.” Urban said sarcastically.

“Jack told his team that I would style him for his tour before he even asked me.” Gabriella said.

“Okay, Jack, your turn.”

“I knew Ella had finals and I didn’t want to stress her out more, so I thought I was being nice. I had a deadline, but I knew if she said no she could get out of it.” Jack explained.

“Gabi, if you want to tell Jack no, tell him no, but, I’d love it if you came. Jack, next time, ask Gabi before you agree for her to do something. That’s just common sense.” Urban said.

“Well Jack must not have any common sense.” Gabriella whispered and Urban held back his laughter.

“I heard that.” Jack said.

“I meant for you too.” Gabriella said as she stood up, walking to the kitchen, Jack following her so they could eat.

“I should have known better than to leave them home alone.” Urban said to himself, following them before they could get into another argument.

Tag list @jackharloww @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @hoodharlow @itsyagirljaz @heavyhitterheaux @harlowsbby @awhore4moree @harlowslefttoe @twerkforambrose @jackmans-poison @ilovenudy @taniapri @killatravtramp @easternparkway @macey234 @toocriticalharlow @lightsoutstyles @rachxc13 @iknowdatsrightbih @idktbh101 @blossomluvv @middlechild404

[bbyquokka]

I loveeeee love LOVE that last Binnie thing omg my baby

Could you write something like it's the next day and he's sleeping in and you got up to make breakfast for him because big boy needs to eat a lot to maintain those muscles and he wakes up all grumpy because you were not in bed but then he's all shocked that you made him breakfast??

Lmao I'm so weak for him, yes I'll do the cooking yes I'll do the cleaning 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

tysm hun! ‹3

FLUFF BELOW CUT – MDNI

part one

warnings: gn!reader, mentions of the gym & food, changbin is soft af, this is just sickeningly sweet :)

10:10 am. your eyes slowly peel open, squinting in the harsh morning light. you bring a fist up to your eye, softly rubbing the sleep away. you let out a yawn slowly sitting up to look down at your sleeping lover.

flat on his stomach, head turned to you. his arm bent just above his head showing off his biceps. his lips parted as soft snores escape his lips, duvet covering his bottom half, his curly hair tousled and face puffy with sleep.

you melt. sure, changbin is very attractive, but seeing him in his natural, sleeping state where he is at his most vulnerable – is beautiful to you.

you slowly shuffle out off bed, feet hitting the cold wood floor. you walk out of the bedroom, closing the door slowly behind you. you do your usual bathroom routine before settling on cooking you and changbin some breakfast.

you know changbin inside and out. you've been living with him for two years now so you know his morning routine by now. that also means you know what he likes to eat in the morning.

changbin would typically wake up, get dressed for the gym, have a big breakfast stacked with protein and nutrients before heading off for the gym for an hour.

you start by cooking him some breakfast, boiling a pot of water for your tea/coffee. whilst cooking, changbin stirs in his sleep, his eyes fluttering open.

he groans softly, reaching out to the side as he expects you to be there for him to be disappointed when his hand comes into contact with your cold side. he sits up, brows furrowing together as his bottom lip sticks in a pout.

changbin cannot start his day off right without a cuddle with his fave person!

feeling himself get grumpy, he gets out off bed. he ruffles his hair, walking out of the bedroom. the smell of breakfast hitting his nostrils, his grumpiness disappearing as he approaches the kitchen.

his heart melts as he watches you cook for him, plating his plate high with food before making his protein shake. he sighs softly to himself, making a mental note to buy an engagement ring on the way back from the gym.

he walks behind you, arms wrapping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder.

“oh! morning sleepy head.” you giggle, looking at the clock that's hung on the wall. “or should I say afternoon?”

“i slept that long?” changbin mumbles. you hum softly, nodding.

“i think you needed it bin. did you sleep well?”

“mhm, I did. although, I was sad to see my darling wasn't with me when I woke up.”

“im sorry love. I wanted to make you breakfast before you go to the gym.”

“you did all this? for me?” changbin's heart beating against his ribcage, his body melting against you. you nod slowly and giggle.

“of course darling! cooked to perfection, just how you like it!”

“fuck y/n.” changbin gently spins you around so you're facing him. you blush softly, changbin tracing your jawline with his finger before placing his hand on your cheek gently. “marriage material.”

“oh hush bin.” you flush pink as Changbin leans in slowly, pressing his lips against yours gently in a sweet and delicate kiss.

“never.”

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[dyhayc]

Could you write something where Eddie gives you flowers because it’s your birthday or something ? If not it’s alright :)

Word Count: erm… 4.3k

Warnings: Reader has bad friends, Steve is actually clueless about girls, Dustin is an absolute menace

A/N: There’s quite a bit of Hawkins High worldbuilding that I really didn’t expect to write, it just happened. A lot of the high school stuff is actually based on my own experiences, so that’s probably why! Also, the part about reader’s birthday doesn’t start until about halfway in, whoops!

Btw I know I took a lot of things about the plot into my own hands (so much that it’s more parallel to the request than the actual request), so anon if you’re reading this feel free to request again if you didn’t like this!

Written post-season 4 because I’m trying to manifest Eddie surviving </3

Under the cut there's a diagram I drew to help you understand the layout of the science classrooms (mostly because i had no idea how to describe what I was talking about), it'll make more sense when you start reading

It’s the first day of a new term. Calculus, your first period, is as dull as ever. You’re springing out of your seat the second the bell rings. Strolling past your locker, you head to the science classrooms for your second period: Physics with Mrs. Williams. You know it’ll be an easy class. You’ve heard from friends that she’s biased towards athletes and cheerleaders.

You’re a cheerleader only because your mom persuaded you to try it. She’d attended Hawkins High and been one of the most successful cheer captains the school ever had. Trying to fill her shoes seemed intimidating initially, but you managed just fine. Joining the cheer squad has actually helped you gain confidence and friends.

When you walk into the classroom, you’re not surprised when everyone looks at you. The cheer team was tiny compared to similar-sized schools in the area. It’s pretty rare to have cheerleaders in classes simply because there are so few of you. You’re not as popular as the other girls, but you don’t mind. Staying in the background is something you prefer.

Everyone is huddled near the wall awaiting their assigned seat, so you go to join them. Scanning the crowd, you’re disappointed to see so few seniors. Science courses are unique; the only required classes with a mix of lower and upperclassmen. To graduate, you have to pass three years of science. The first is Biology, but after that, it’s whatever science class you want, causing such a diverse crowd of students.

With an exasperated sigh, you lean against a lab station. None of your friends are taking physics, apparently, which means you’ll probably be bored out of your mind the entire time. The door slamming open breaks your train of thought. Everyone turns to look at the entrance.

Eddie Munson pushes through the crowd gathered at the door and heads towards lab station seven in the back corner. Dropping his things on the counter, he pulls out the stool. It scrapes comically loud against the already scuffed floor before stopping suddenly, engulfing everyone in awkward silence. He plops down onto the chair and ignores everyone. The lowerclassmen mumble confused questions amongst themselves, ‘Why is he sitting down?’ and ‘Don’t we have assigned seats?’ They’ve obviously never had a class with Eddie before.

In most classes, teachers isolate him. They claim he’s a distraction to the class, so he’s put in corner seats, TA tables, and sometimes even islands. Desks pushed to the corner of the room like you’re elementary schoolers. It’s cruel the way they treat him. It’s like they think he’s worthless and incapable of learning. Seeing it in person makes your stomach crawl, so you’ve always tried to smile at him and be kind. You don’t ever go farther than that, though. He’s made it clear he has no interest in cheerleaders.

Anyways, Eddie’s done these classes twice before. He knows where teachers expect him to sit. Apparently, Mrs. Williams has assigned him a lab station. Lab stations are unique to science classrooms, intended only to be used during labs. Unfortunately, they take up a lot of room, meaning there’s less space for normal desks in the middle of the class. There’s always a couple of overflow students who have to sit at a station, and they’re always upperclassmen. Lab stations are highly sought-after seats, after all.

Mrs. Williams finally arrives and begins her speech about ‘finding your seats in an orderly manner.’ She begins reading names off of her clipboard. Students groan and moan when they’re given a desk. Everyone knows you get to sit at a station if your name isn't called. You listen intently, crossing your fingers and hoping you won’t get chosen. It’s down to the last seat, and the tension is killing you.

“Stacy Miller,” your classmate pouts but sits in her seat, “The rest of you may find a lab station. One person per station, please.”

Surveying the room, you scrunch your nose at your options. Everyone has spread out. People are sitting at labs one, three, five, seven, and ten, meaning no matter where you sit, you’ll be next to somebody. Honestly, the only person you’d want to sit near is Eddie. Walking over, you see him squint suspiciously at you when you sit down at station eight. In response, you smile.

For the first week, he ignores you. It’s fine. You figured he would. Then the unexpected happens: he approaches you.

That Friday you’re taking your weekly progress quiz. Mrs. Williams steps out of the room for a moment to chat with the department head. Eddie takes advantage of her absence, pulling up a stool next to yours. Bewildered, you turn your head to look at him. Leaning closer to you, he whispers, “What’s Newton’s first law?”

You’re sure he only asks you because you’re sitting so close, but you still feel compelled to help him, “An object in motion stays in motion unless a force is acted upon it.” A few classmates turn their heads when they hear your whispers, but Eddie’s scowl turns them back around.

“Uh, can you write that down?” he asks, obviously forgetting what you just told him. You sigh, knowing how bad it would be if you got caught. Academic dishonesty would get you kicked off the cheer team. Despite your better judgment, you scribble the answer onto a spare sheet of binder paper and hand it to him.

Before he goes, you emphasize, “Please keep that hidden.” He nods in understanding, and his smile seems genuine when he thanks you. It’s just in time, too. The second he sits back down in his seat, your teacher returns. She eyes him suspiciously but doesn’t do anything. Instead, she begins to grade homework assignments.

On Monday, you hear him cheer as he’s handed back his test. The sound makes you smile. Eddie can be endearing when he wants to be. While Mrs. Williams begins her lecture about force, he comes to sit next to you. Grinning, he holds up his test in one hand, pointing to it with the other. “I got a D minus!” he exclaims before bowing his head, making his curls fall chaotically, “many thanks, my lady.”

You giggle at him, tilting your head, “You’re thanking me for a D minus?”

“Don’t laugh,” he chides, “Last year, I failed every single one of these damn tests.”

“I could’ve given you more answers,” you point out, “You could’ve gotten any grade you wanted.” Pulling out your test, you show him your perfect score.

He shakes his head, “Nah, Mrs. Williams would’ve been too suspicious. She’s already sensing a conspiracy cause I didn’t get an F.”

As is she sensed her name being spoken, your teacher whips around with her hands on her hips, “Eddie Munson! Why are you out of your seat? Stop bothering that poor girl.” Reluctantly, he returns to his seat and pretends to take notes. Satisfied, she stops looking at Eddie. You turn to grin at him, trying to contain your laughter. He looks proud as he smirks back.

Your relationship only grows from there. During lectures and free time, he sits next to you. At first, he only came over for last-minute answers to homework, but you’ve noticed a change in his behaviour. He’s started to pay attention and ask questions about the topics you’re learning. And, when you take notes, he asks to borrow them to look over.

During labs, he’ll abandon his assigned group to talk to you. Your group consists of one freshman and three sophomores, and you’re almost certain they’re afraid of him. Whenever he comes over, all four crowd the opposite side of the counter. It’s pretty comical, but you still feel bad for messing with underclassmen. Regardless of how your group acts towards him, the shift in his attitude is there. He participates in the experiments and helps your group record data while visiting rather than hanging around and wasting time.

His differences shine brightest when he receives his weekly quizzes. What were once F’s and D’s become high C’s and a few low B’s. Even Mrs. Williams has noticed his improvement. She held you back after class once to talk about it. “I don’t know how you’ve done it,” she’d said, “but that boy has never thrived as much as he has when he’s with you.” Throughout her speech about ‘allowing him to sit next to you’ so you can ‘tutor him in class,’ that single line stuck out to you.

You’ve tried to deny it for weeks, but you have a crush on him. It’s in the way he actually listens to you when you talk. The way he makes you laugh so hard you cry. The way he leaves ‘thank you’ notes in your locker after you help him study for a quiz. It’s in the way he smiles at you like you’re the only one in the room. He makes you feel like you’re worth more than the sun, the moon, and the stars.

He’s special, magical, ethereal, loved. You could use so many words to describe him, but they would never be enough.

It’s a feeling that you fight hard to control. You know what your friends would say if you told them about your feelings for “the Freak.” It feels like your heart is torn in two directions, and you don’t know which side to follow. When you’re with the cheer squad, you feel like you belong. These girls have been by your side for years now. You should stick to their side… right?

But then it’s 9:35, and you’re walking into second period. Your shoulders feel lighter, like a weight you carry everywhere is lifted momentarily. Then, he sits next to you, and you talk, and you laugh, and you’re free. For ninety minutes every day, you speak with no filter. It’s the only time you feel like your personality isn’t diluted for the sake of your social life.

Today is no different. You beam at Eddie when he steps through the door. He sits next to you and jokingly teases you about the doodles of your favourite flower, bluebells, in the margins of the notes he borrowed the day before. You’ve come to expect this playfulness from him. He points out the differences between you two, but he never makes you feel bad for it. He seems to like the contrast.

He holds up the note you left in his locker yesterday. You’d written, ‘Congrats on getting a C, Eddie! :)’ in sparkly pink gel pen. You wonder if it was too obvious. “I’m surprised you don’t dot your I’s with hearts,” he says with a slight mumble to his words, as if he doesn’t believe he’s admitting them out loud. Well, you certainly didn’t expect that.

“What?”

“Y’know. You’re so… cutesy. You draw flowers in the shapes of hearts on your notes, you write with colourful pens, and your handwriting is always so neat. I just think it would suit you, that’s all.”

And that’s all it takes. From then on, every single note passed is written with I’s that are dotted with hearts. You go out of your way to include I’s in your message. You even find reasons to leave notes in his locker so that you can draw hearts that you’re gifting to him on paper.

You’re so distracted by Eddie that you almost forget your birthday is coming. Instead of telling him in class, as you’d planned, you slip a note into his locker during passing period. Satisfied, you head to the lunch room to eat with your friends.

Eddie scoffs at Dustin’s nagging. Their classes before lunch are close, so Dustin tries to gain some extra knowledge about the next Hellfire session every day. Eddie assumes that he thinks he’s being subtle, but the attempts to interrogate are pretty blatant. Rolling his eyes, he opens his locker to get his lunchbox when a piece of paper flutters to the floor.

Eddie’s quick, but Dustin’s quicker, picking up the note and opening it. Eddie snatches it away with a glare, but now it’s Dustin’s turn to roll his eyes. “New message from your lady friend?” he inquires, “Y’know you’re not subtle about her at all.”

Eddie scoffs, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Mind your business, Henderson.” While walking, he grabs what he needs and stuffs the note in his pocket.

“Yea, right. That cheerleader has you wrapped around her finger. You’re whipped.” The second Dustin says ‘cheerleader,’ Eddie turns his head to examine the boy. How the hell did he know you were a cheerleader? Shaking his head, he opts to ignore the statement, going to find his seat at the head of the table instead.

The next 20 or so minutes fly by. For some reason, the freshmen are interested in stories about drunks from the band’s gigs, but it’s entertaining enough to fill the time until Eddie decides to sneak a glance your way. Bad idea. You’re so radiant that he can’t tear his eyes off of you. At least, not until Dustin opens his mouth.

“See? Whipped,” he says, looking around the table for support. Multiple people nod in agreement.

“Yea, man,” Lucas agrees, “you’ve got it bad.”

“No. No, no, no, no, no, no,” Eddie counters, “No. Freshmen do not get to give me shit about this, okay? Keep your mouths shut.”

Mike speaks up, “Why not? We have more girlfriends than everyone else in the club. We can be your wingmen.”

Eddie can feel his soul being ripped out of his body just from the thought of these kids trying to talk to a girl for him. “If I find out you twerps talked to her,” he begins seriously, pointing at all of them, “I will ban you from Hellfire for life.” They all collectively groan but don’t say anything more.

Leaning his forearms on the counter with his hands clasped together, Eddie can’t believe he’s here. It seems they can’t believe it either. Robin looks shocked, while Steve looks baffled and mildly concerned, “Really? You’re serious?”

Eddie huffs, “Can you please just help me?” As much as he hated to admit it, the freshmen were right. He needed help. The only people he could think of were Steve and Robin. After fighting a supernatural demon together, they should count as friends, right?

Steve persists, “You know she’s a cheerleader, right?” Eddie rolls his eyes in frustration, and Steve puts up his hands in surrender, “All right. I was just making sure, man.”

Robin decides to speak up before the two boys get into a fight, “What do you want the gift to mean?” Eddie furrows his brows, confused, so she clarifies, “Like, is this gift romantic? Platonic? Something else?”

“Um, romantic, I think,” he mumbles in response. Robin and Steve give each other a knowing look. Dustin comes in often to share gossip about his DM. They hadn’t believed him until Eddie came in today for some advice.

“What about jewelry?” Steve suggests.

Robin quickly shakes her head, “No, that costs too much.”

Steve counters, “Jewelry’s romantic, though.”

Robin scoffs at Steve’s obliviousness. “Sure, it’s romantic, but you need to think about it from her perspective. She’s humble. She wouldn’t accept a gift that costs too much,” she turns to Eddie, “has she mentioned things she likes when you guys have talked?”

Fishing in his pocket, Eddie finds the note from his locker. Placing it on the counter, the two lean forward to look at the paper, which reads: “Sorry i forgot to tell you in class, but my birthday is on Monday! i just thought you’d wanna know!” It’s written in the same signature sparkly pink gel pen with hearts replacing every dot on the paper, but it also has two bluebell stems drawn in the shape of a heart. Steve mumbles in shock, ‘I can’t believe it.’

“I know those are her favourite,” Eddie says, ignoring him and pointing to the drawing, “I just don’t know what they are.”

“Those are bluebells, which are the perfect gift,” Robin replies, motioning with her hands, “Get her a bouquet!”

Steve interjects, “Wait a minute, don’t flowers mean things? What if bluebells mean friendship or something worse?”

After realizing nobody knows what bluebells represent, Eddie sighs dejectedly and rubs his face with his hands. Robin glances at the clock before offering, “Our shift is almost over. Why don’t we go to the library and find out what they mean?” Steve makes a face because he’s her ride home, but she makes a face back and whispers, “It’s for love, Steve!”

Arriving at the library, they split up to find different books on the topic of flowers. After grabbing a few options, they meet back up at a table. Flipping through the pages, they eventually all find information on bluebells. “Mine says, ‘The bluebell is a symbol of humility and constancy,’” Robin reads.

Steve nods, “This book says they mean ‘gratitude.’”

“Bluebells represent everlasting love. They convey respect and unwavering devotion to a loved one,” Eddie adds, “So, they don’t mean anything bad.”

“This is great! Call a florist, and you’ll be good to go,” Steve advises.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, “yeah. It’ll be great.”

That Sunday night, you tell your family that you’ll be leaving early tomorrow morning. There’s a big game that night, and the cheer captain wants to meet to discuss the plan again. You’re excited to see your friends. You’d spent the entirety of Friday’s lunch rambling about your plans for your birthday. Your extended family is coming over for dinner for your nineteenth birthday. Yes, nineteen. Embarrassingly, you’d been held back in Kindergarten, but it never seemed to affect your life.

When you arrive at school, your friends don’t give you birthday wishes. It’s fine. It’s probably too early in the morning for them. They just aren’t awake yet. Subtly, you hint that today’s your birthday, but none of the girls pick up on it. Then, you try some more obvious statements, “You know, I heard it’s someone’s birthday today.”

There’s a little gasp, “Oh!” Your heart is elated; they finally remembered!

“Is it Jason?”

Just like that, it falls right back down.

“No, his was two months ago. It’s Patrick’s birthday. Remember, he said if the basketball team wins tonight, they’ll party because of the win, and if they lose, they’ll party because of his birthday.” They all begin to gossip, claiming that ‘he’s so selfless for not caring about his birthday.’ You listen in shock. Is it selfish to care about your birthday?

The question looms over your head like a dark cloud. As you go from the football field to calculus to physics, it brings down your mood. You fiddle with the hem of your uniform’s skirt as you zone out of Mrs. Williams’ lecture. You’d hoped at least Eddie would say something, but it’s been almost the entire period, and he hasn’t even come over. It only makes you feel even worse.

Meanwhile, Eddie is agonizing over what to do. You’re obviously upset; he’d have to be blind not to see it. He wants to go over and tell you happy birthday, then make the whole class sing for you, but he stops himself. He doesn’t want to ruin the surprise he has planned. Scribbling on a piece of paper, he folds it up and throws it to you.

The note lands next to you, and you go to look at Eddie, but he’s already turned back to his paper. Opening it, you see ‘why are you sad?’ written on the page. With a sigh, you write your response and throw it back. He unfurls it to see, ‘I’m just tired’ written in pencil. There are no hearts, smiley faces, or doodles, and it breaks his heart. He decides to tell you ‘happy birthday,’ but it’s too late. The bell has rung, and you’re rushing out of the classroom faster than he’s ever seen you walk. Clenching his fists, he chastises himself for being such an idiot.

Your next period goes about as well as the first two. You feel like a walking corpse when you sit in the cafeteria. Part of you wonders if you should just tell your friends it’s your birthday. But would they really mean it if they had to be point-blank told? Would it be selfish to ask them for acknowledgment? It’s not like you’re asking them for a gift, but one single ‘happy birthday’ would be nice. But, if they had cared, wouldn’t they have remembered? Your inner turmoil consumes you, so you spend the entire lunch looking down and pushing food around your tray.

Eddie watches you mess with your food from afar. The guilt is killing him, and he’s making no efforts to hide it. Everyone at the table is uncomfortably aware of his pining. “Okay, this is weird,” Dustin speaks up, “You gotta go talk to her. You’re like a trainwreck in human form.”

“Watch your tone, Henderson,” is the only retort that Eddie can muster at the moment. Gathering his things, he goes to leave, “I’m ditching. I’ll be back for Hellfire.” Getting off campus is surprisingly easy. They never lock the gates. Throwing his things in the passenger seat of his van, he sits in the driver’s seat and groans, annoyed with himself. Driving away, he heads home to distract himself until he can pick up the flowers.

At the game, you struggle to be optimistic enough. Doing cheers and smiling big is hard when you feel like shit. Multiple people have asked if you’re okay, but you just tell them you’re tired, your chosen excuse of the day. The minutes seem to crawl by when all you want to do is go home. The thought of your birthday party with your family is the only reason you’re not sobbing at the moment.

You stay behind to help the leadership kids and the sparse volunteers clean up when the game is over. Your class president told you it’s okay to leave if you’re exhausted, but you’ve always stayed after games. It’s nice to help out your school, even in small ways. It helps to feel like you’re a part of a community.

With the trash swept up and the bleachers pushed back, everyone files out the doors and into the parking lot. It’s dark when you step out into the cool night, but you’re glad. Tears roll down your cheeks the second you don’t have a task to complete. Stepping off to the side, you watch as everyone leaves, including the Hellfire club. Seeing them makes your heart ache more. You can’t believe Eddie didn’t remember. You’d written him a note and everything.

You don’t want to cry in front of your family, so you try to get everything out now. Anyways, driving while crying is a bad idea. It’s fine, you’re fine, you try and convince yourself. It’s not working that well.

Glancing up, you see a figure walking toward you. Thinking it’s a security guard, you dust yourself off and try to look presentable. They’ll probably tell you to go home. Looking up again, you realize that it’s “Eddie?” He’s walking with his hands behind his back, eyes watching his feet nervously.

“Hi,” he says softly, stopping a few feet before you, “I got these for you. Happy birthday.” He brings the prettiest bouquet you’ve ever seen from behind his back. It’s primarily bluebells with baby’s breath lining the outsides. The stems are tied together with a pastel blue bow.

You take them, perplexed, “I thought you left with your club?”

He shakes his head, “No, I just went to grab these. Sorry if they’re fucked up, I had to leave them in my van during Hellfire, and some of the petals are squished, and-”

While he’s rambling, you notice a card stuck in the ribbon. Pulling it out, your lower lip trembles as your tears start falling again. Eddie’s messy handwriting is scrawled in red ink, but that’s not what draws your attention. Every single I is dotted with a heart, even down to the exclamation mark.

‘For the prettiest cheerleader in the world galaxy,

Happy birthday!

Love, Eddie’

“No! They’re absolutely perfect,” you hope the emotion in your words is enough to convey how you feel.

He finally looks at your face and whispers, “Are you crying?” but you ignore him and carry on.

“I love them so much, thank you!” You wrap your arms around him and cry into his chest, mindful of the flowers. He holds you until you stop and pull away, “I’m sorry. It’s just… this is the first time someone’s said happy birthday to me all day.”

He looks concerned, “What about your friends?” You scrunch your nose and shake your head, frowning at the memory. He frowns too, “God, they don’t deserve you.”

Staring straight into his eyes so close creates a thick cloud of tension. You need to know you’re not the only one feeling it, “Did you mean what you wrote on the card? When you said ‘love’?”

Timidly, he breaks eye contact and begins to ramble again, “Yea, I did. Robin, Steve, and I went to the library to find out what bluebells represent, and it turns out it’s eternal love. Then, when I called the florist, they said that baby’s breath also means eternal love, so it, y’know, fit…” His words trail off when you lean closer with a smile. Getting the hint, he cups your cheeks with his hands. Gently, you press your lips to his. The kiss is so soft and warm that it sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach. When you pull away, he’s beaming at you while you laugh at his boyish grin.

“I think that was the best birthday present I’ve ever got.”

“You think?” he demands, exaggerating his offended look, “No, that won’t do. C’mere.” He pulls you back in for another kiss, and this time, you tell him, ‘I know.’

[vancehopperenthusiast]

HI SO PLEASE I'M SORRY IF THIS COMES OF WEIRD BUT CAN YOU PLEASE MAKE A PART TWO TO PURE KISSES ABOUT YOUR DATE THEN WHEN YOUR FRIENDS WALKS YOU HOME THEY ASK WHY YOUR MOUTH IS PURPLE??? IF THAT MAKES SENSE.

HE IS SO PRETTY AHHGGGGG

Pure Kisses P3

Summary: After the little event with Vance, Carly comes to pick you up, and all of a sudden, within the last 3 hours you were apart, she's sherlock fucking holmes.

Notes: OMGOMGOMG yes yes!

me pretending like I don't have school in the morning to write this LMFAO

I hope you like ittt

Tags: easily flustered Vance, carlys back lols, probably really wordy bcz I'm sleepy, uhh idk that's all

CWS: cursing that's it i think

After vance was done with his maniac laughing and you sitting there completely flabbergasted and a little annoyed, he wiped his tears. He looked up at your straight face and grinned, he looked like he had just beat his new pinball score (which mind you was currently at a record of 120,420 not to brag or anything) 

You couldn't help but smile back. Something about his laugh and smile was so contagious,  “fine then Mr. Vance, show me your tongue” he looked bashful as the words flew from your mouth. “Fuck off” he rolled his eyes. After a minute of comfortable silence, you noticed the rain had stopped. “Hey, I’m gonna call Carly, ask her to pick me up... See you tomorrow?” 

“Don't you want me to walk you home?” the curly-haired blonde shot up from his position on the bed. “No, it's okay. My parents would never let a boy on our front porch. They barely let me on our date!” 

His curls were covering his face but he was clearly disappointed. “I pinky promise I’ll see you tomorrow. It’s gonna take a minute for Carly to get here anyway. We can hang out till then” you stuck out your pinky. He looked at you like you were crazy.

“I don't do those pinky promises they're fucking stupid.” the curly-headed boy stated, your eyes were filled with sadness and you were sure you could feel your heart tear a little. Pinky promises had always been something you held close to you. Sure it was stupid to do it in damn near high school. But you've always done it.

It was almost like he could feel your sadness from a mile away because he looked up almost immediately after he said it. “Fine but nobody ever finds out about this and if they do, I’ll never admit to it.”

Your face lit up, “okok nobody with ever find out!” you stuck your pinky out again, this time a stronger finger hooked itself around yours. You wrapped your pinky around his and kissed it, locking it in.

“I’ll be back I gotta call Carly,” you said, rushing out of the room and hustling down the steps.

He sighed, shaking his head, curls bouncing with it. Covering his face with his hands, he put his entire body back onto his bed, rather than just his bottom half. You made him feel so giddy inside. It was so embarrassing how whipped he was for you. Say the word and he’s already doing it. If anyone saw how he was acting they wouldn't believe it

The pinball Vance hopper, giggling, kicking his feet, playing with his hair over a random bum? Nope possible. He laid there for a moment longer in peace before he heard your footsteps making their way to his domain. “She's on her way. So I expect about 30 minutes,” 

He bit the inside of his cheek trying his hardest not to smile, of course, that failed. A toothy grin plastered itself on his face again. He looked fucking goofy and he knew it. As long as it was you who caused it, he couldn't essay he exactly minded all that much.

“What is it?” you asked curiously. “Nothing, just you”

Thirty minutes ran like Usain bolt because before you noticed, Carly was knocking at the food. You quickly tossed on your shoes and looked at Vance, “see you tomorrow” you stated before kissing his cheek and heading downstairs. 

“Let's go!” Carly ushered, you walked outside and shut the door. Carly didn't ask too much. She didn’t want to intrude if you wanted her to know, you'd tell her that's for sure. While you were rambling about something, she noticed your tongue. “Y/N what's wrong with your tongue?” she asked slowly, you pretended like you had no clue what she meant.

“Why’s it purple?”

“Oh no I guess I've gotten sick from the rain haha”

“Y/N.”

“We kissed! Okay more like totally made out but you can't tell anyone!!” you squealed 

“I knew it!! Omg is he a good kisser??”

“Girl, don't even get me startedd!”

[curious-zigzagoon]

I want to know you. Pt. 1

Simon Riley x gender neutral reader

I’m doing it guys I hope you enjoy.

Summary: you and Simon get to spend a lot of alone time together thanks to work. It doesn’t go quite how you were expecting.

Warnings: none

Your code name is Fennec (like the fox)

Uhh yeah here it is :) (also first part is short still testing the waters with this whole posting my writing thing) not perfect but please enjoy.<3

“You and ghost have been tasked with scoping out an area that has a high profile target residing in it. In your free time you and ghost will be staying at a small and old safe house. You will be there for approximately three weeks.” Price announced with a small grin on his face. He knows me and ghost aren’t necessarily the best of friends. “When are we leaving?” I asked. “Tomorrow 8am.”Price said, Ghost nodded. I looked at the time at the clock behind Price, it was 6:47 pm. “Okay well I better start packing.” I stood from my chair and excused myself from the room. Well isn’t this amazing. I was thinking on my way back to my room. Just fucking amazing.

And just like that we were on our way to somewhere in Mexico. I spent a lot of time in awkward silence both on the plane and during our first few hours at the safe house. It was great. The grump had barely said anything to me at all this whole time, which is what I expected. I don’t think he’s ever really liked me that much. At least it feels nothing like how he is with soap. But soap is well soap it’s pretty easy to get along with him.

I was making some dinner for me and Ghost, beef and rice with steamed broccoli. Very bland. I was just about to plate the food when I felt a looming presence behind me. The ghost is very quiet but I know he’s there. “Do you need something Ghost?” He’s been quite cold to me, I tried to be nice for a while but I can play this game if that’s what he wants. “You can call me Simon now.” I turned around. He’s corrected me every time I’ve called him Simon and he’s never called me anything other than fennec even in non-strictly work settings. So this is strange. “Where is this coming from?” He was very close to me, I was almost backed against the counter. “Can I be honest with you Y/n?” Y/n? “Yes?” He came closer and I placed my hands on the counter behind me. He was so large, his figure was intimidating and this unusual behavior made me nervous. “I want you, I have for a while now.” Want me? Seriously. “You’ve been so cold to me Ghost, what are you talking about?” He sighed. “I’m sorry for my behavior, I’ve been trying to keep my distance from you, I don’t think I’m the kind of person you’d want to have relations with. But for some reason I felt the need to tell you” “I think that’s something I can decide for myself, and how am I supposed to decide that if you won’t let me get to know you?” He stood silently for a moment, he looked to the floor then back to me. “I will let you get to know me, but only if you let me have you. I don’t trust people so easily but I want to be around you.” “Okay well, Ghost I will not give myself to someone I hardly know.” He looked disappointed, and I’m sure me calling him ghost after he gave me permission to call him Simon stung. “I understand.” I thought for a moment “But it will just be you and me here for the next three weeks, and if you let me get to know you in that time I will consider it.” His eyes lit up a bit. “Okay.” Maybe he’s worth knowing is all that came to mind. I'm unsure of how this will end, but I wanna know.