#ofc until she needs money ofc then she’s definitely NOT Saying that

[lilgynt]

i cannot even be sick without my mom being like i will make you want to kill urself

[kiwi-bitchez]

The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie doesn’t think he’s cut out for dating. Self-resigned to a life of one and done hookups, you’re determined to make him see that he has the capacity to be a worthy companion… for when the right girl comes around. Fake Dating AU, classic corny fic for a fav corny troupe, Stranger Things canon divergent ofc, 18+ smut (see warnings below), big dick energy but also slightly emotionally unavailable!Eddie, yada yada yada, you know the drill. 

Content warnings: AFAB reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol, smoking the devil’s lettuce, mention of panty stealing, food consumption, semi-public sex, fingering, PIV, Dom-ish!Eddie, oral (m and f receiving), pierced dick Eddie because I said so!, unprotected PIV sex, hair pulling, mild angst but nothing too angsty just like one heated conversation and Eddie feeling a little worthless but happy ending I promise

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

A/N: Thanks to all those who comment and reblog! Your feedback and engagement makes my heart soar and keeps me motivated to write this filth! Sorry for the gargantuan length, in very-me fashion I always ending up writing one behemoth fic every so often rather than just separating it out into chapters. Also, realizing after the fact that I use the brand name ‘Goodwill’ a lot in this fic, which maybe not everyone might know is a thrift store, not sure if that’s just an American thing or not but figured it was worth noting. 

“I guess I’m just not boyfriend material, ya know?” Eddie shrugs.

“Don’t say that, Eds,” your eyebrows pinched together, “different qualities are important to different people. Not everyone is looking to date a Steve, or a Brian, or a whoever. I’m sure someone is out there looking for an Eddie.”

“It’s not that,” he shot a look towards Steve, who, despite your analogy, was unfortunately everyone’s type and the textbook definition of boyfriend material.

“I just don’t think I’d be very good at gooey romance stuff, or even like, passable boyfriend behavior. I mean, look at me, I hardly take care of myself, I’m loud, I have no money, I’m basically every dad’s worst nightmare, do I need to keep going?”

“The nightmare thing can actually be a bonus,” Steve chimes in, “the whole bad boy persona can be a huge draw for most girls.”

“Sure Steve,” Eddie’s voice grows exasperated, “I’m the mysterious bad boy until they realize I’m a huge loser who runs not one but two dungeons and dragons groups. Real fuckin’ attractive I’m sure that is.”

“Shows you’re committed to something…” you trail off when his eyes tell you to stop coming up with a positive spin for every excuse he gives. 

This whole discussion had started because of something that happened at the bar last night. A small group of you decided to meet up for drinks, your usual group of pals. It was a Thursday, so the bar wasn’t too busy. Your friends all squished into a booth in the corner, chatting and catching up over a plate of shared nachos, when Robin started making frantic gesture at you and Steve.

“Please just say what you’re trying to say instead of this elaborate charade,” Steve makes a few mocking hand signals back at her.

“Okay, one at a time, and keep it subtle,” her voice lowered to a whisper, for some reason, “over at the bar, some girl is totally flirting with Eddie.”

You and Steve both turn around. “I said not at the same time!” She whisper yells. 

There was, in fact, a pretty girl with shiny hair and glossy lips doing a half fake laugh and pressing her manicured hand to Eddie’s bicep. You whip back around to find Robin with her mouth hanging open in a “can you believe this is happening” way. 

“Good for him,” Steve swivels back around too, “She’s pretty hot.”

You return to your nachos, pretending there wasn’t a ping of jealousy in you. Eddie was your friend, that had been made abundantly clear.

When Robin introduced you to all her friends from high school, you had easily gotten along with all of them. You especially got along with Eddie. He was funny, authentic, abrasive at times, but a truly good person at his core, creative, protective, you could go on.

After getting to know him a bit, and developing a budding crush, you had made a few passes at him. Nothing too forward, just small compliments here and there, open ended offers to hang out that never lead anywhere.

It’s not like he flat out rejected you, but any feelers you were putting out to see if there was potential there were met with him looking past your flirtatious intent and just being his goofy, friendly self. He treated you exactly the same way he treated everyone else, which was awesome, except for when it wasn’t. 

“Oh no,” Robin’s gaze was not subtly fixed on the unfolding scene at the bar, you and Steve watched her face drastically shift from confused, to a cringe, to an eye roll.

Still half whispering, as if Eddie could even hear your corner of the bar, “He’s totally blowing it. DON’T both turn around at the same time again.” 

“Okay, so,” she starts before either of you can even confirm that you want to know, “she was totally laying it on thick, like you could see it from all the way back here. And he must have said something off putting, cuz all of a sudden she like went cold on him and pranced away. Shhhhh, okay okay, he’s coming back.”

She was acting as if she wasn’t the only one gossiping. You and Steve were innocent bystanders in all this. 

“WHAT was that?” She immediately blurts out when Eddie returns to his seat, fresh drink in hand. 

You and Steve share a side glance to sigh at Robin’s inability to be subtle, god bless her. Eddie shifts around awkwardly and lets out a forced dry laugh, taking a long sip from his drink before facing the wrath of a curious Robin. 

“Oh, that,” he gestures to the bar as if she could be asking about anything else, “some girl. Not sure.”

“Not sure? Eddie she was FLIRTING with you,” Robin all but yelled, causing Steve to scan the bar to see if the girl in question had landed somewhere within earshot. 

“I know that,” he hisses, “She just… wasn’t my type…”

“Okay sure, hot girl in a tube top and no bra isn’t your type, riiiiight,” Steve rolls his eyes.

“It’s just,” Eddie was so over this inquisition, “she asked if I wanted to get coffee.”

You, Steve, and Robin all give him a blank stare, trying to decipher what he could possibly have against getting coffee with a hot girl. 

“That’s like,” he gets defensive, detecting the wall of confusion facing him, “something people do on a date. Coffee is serious, and I’m not a very serious guy.”

“What do you mean ‘coffee is serious,’ coffee is like, as casual as you can possibly be?” Steve’s tone now emulated Robin’s from earlier, half whispering, half yelling, all scolding towards his friend. 

“That’s just not really my speed. Coffee dates and flowers and hand holding and all that,” he was avoiding eye contact with all three of you, “Yeah, she was hot, sure, and maybe if she had been like ‘hey lets go fool around in the bathroom’ then I wouldn’t be here having this lame ass conversation with you three. But I don’t do coffee dates, so I’m not gonna waste her time and pretend like I’m that sort of guy when I’m just not.” 

“Well good on you for not leading her on, cuz I’m sure you could have agreed to the coffee date and still gotten lucky in the bathroom,” Steve mumbles, and you smack the back of his head lightly to scold him. 

“So you only date girls who’ll fuck you in a bar bathroom the first time you meet?” You redirect your now equally scolding energy to Eddie.

“No!” He runs his hands through his hair, “I don’t date. Anyone, really. At all. Ever.”

“Oh,” you think for a minute, realizing in your few years of friendship you never had seen him with anyone, or heard him mention a romantic interest of any sort. 

Leading you to your present conversation, you and Steve continuing to question Eddie on his decision to reject the hot tube-top girl at the bar and why he felt like coffee was such a scary commitment. 

“You guys know me,” he continued to defend his stance, “If I took that girl out for coffee she probably would have picked some fancy hoity toity place and I wouldn’t know what anything on the menu meant, I’d probably spill something or like, get crumbs everywhere, and the bill would be way more than two coffees should be. It would have been a waste of both our time.”

He was staunchly refusing eye contact with the two of you, knowing he’d be met with something along the lines of pity. 

“Fine, we’ll drop the subject,” you shoot a look to Steve, “but I just need to make sure you understand that not every girl likes expensive coffee, or flowers and handholding, or whatever your expectation of girls and dating is. There’s plenty of girls who have similar interests to you, who feel the same way about PDA and mushy romance stuff that you do. You do know that, right?”

“Of course I do, y/n,” you could practically feel his eyes rolling at you, “but girls like that sure as fuck aren’t here in Nowhere, Indiana. Even if she was, I’m sure I’d still find a way to fuck it up given that I’ve had exactly zero serious girlfriends and the closest thing to a date I’ve ever been on is when you me and Steve pooled our ski ball tickets to win that ugly stuffed turtle.”

The memory of what you had all agreed to be the world’s ugliest stuffed animal caused all of you to crack a smile. Steve had silently agreed to change the subject, not wanting to dig Eddie any deeper into his pit of self despair. 

Steve’s mouth was half open, about to suggest that the three of you have a smoke and watch one of the rental movies he brought over, the words just about to escape him when you harshly cut off any chance at ending the pity-party.

“Date me!” You exclaim, without much thought. The shocked look from both boys caused you to rapidly back pedal , “You can date me, as practice!” You said it as if it was the simplest concept in the world. 

When met with gaping mouths and confused stares you continue on, “You and I can be fake boyfriend-girlfriend for like, a month, and I’ll tell you everything you do wrong, and like generic do’s and don’t’s, so that way the next time some hot girl hits on you, you can be all like ‘Coffee isn’t really my thing pretty lady, but I’d be down to get drinks sometime’,” you did a silly impression of Eddie’s voice, and then switched to a high pitched one to impersonate what you assumed the girl at the bar sounded like, “and then she’d be all like, ‘Oh yeah that sounds greaaaaat, getting coffee is just like, a generic catch-all thing that most people say when they want to get to know someone better, but you can buy me a drink’ and then the two of you will ride off into the sunset and it’ll be great.”

Still no reply.

“It won’t be all romantic and gooey, I promise I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. It’d be a way for you to get some honest feedback and catch up with the stuff most people have to learn the hard way.” 

“I suppose you are the most brutally honest person I know,” Eddie doesn’t sound convinced. 

Steve just looked between the two of you with eyebrows raised, not knowing if giving his opinion on the matter would be appreciated or not. “I guess I would’ve appreciated someone telling me that most girls don’t want to be asked out with a pickup line from a John Hughes movie, would have saved me a few dozen rejections.”

“I’m pretty sure Robin did tell you that…”

“I don’t know y/n,” Eddie scratches his head. 

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me out, for practice, ask me out on a date like I’m a pretty girl you met at some metal show or a DnD convention or something like that,” you stand in front of him with your hands out as if to prompt him to say something. 

“Will you go out with me?” He sounds more like he’s asking himself if he even wants to be asking the question.

“No.”

“What the hell!” He throws his hands up.

“I said no because that wasn’t a very good effort. Go out where? To do what? You’re asking me, a pretend stranger, out on a date Eddie, not if I want to go have a smoke with you.”

“Ughhhh,” he spun around and tried to get some sympathy for Steve, who unfortunately was on your side with this one. 

“A compliment or two doesn’t hurt as well,” Steve added, deepening Eddie’s groan. 

“Hey pretty stranger lady,” his voice was laced with sarcasm, but at least it wasn’t disdain, “you seem really…” he hesitated to find his words, “cool? Would you like to come see my band play this weekend at The Hideout? We-“

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

“Eddie, you can’t ask a girl to watch Corroded Coffin play for your first date with her, that’s like date four or five material, no girl wants to go sit by herself at a bar to watch some guy she just met play an hour of heavy metal. She would have to know you a little bit more for that to feel organic. Pick something more generic, like coffee.”

“I think you seem cool, would you like to get coffee with me?” it all came out as one monotone mumble from him. 

“Sure,” you wait for him to lift his head up to make eye contact with you, “But coffee isn’t really my thing, maybe we can go out for drinks?”

“Oh fuck off,” he flopped back onto the couch next to Steve. 

“See, now we have our first fake date, and then you can ask me to be your fake girlfriend, and then you’ll be so comfortable with emotional vulnerability that you can find a real girlfriend to take on real dates.”

“Yeah, I suppose it could be beneficial,” Eddie was slowly coming around to the idea. He knew that he was oddly charismatic at times, but he was just always too self conscious to follow through with the whole romance thing.

This maybe wasn’t a bad idea, because he knew you weren’t the kind of person who would make fun of his hobbies, or put him down if he slipped up, the sorts of things he was always afraid of girls doing. Sure, he’ll agree to the girlfriend experience. 

After a night of movies and pizza with Steve fake-third-wheeling, you made sure Eddie knew that the fake-date was actually happening, that the two of you would go out for drinks this weekend as your first official practice date. 

After giving it a bit of thought, you realized that you and Eddie had never hung out alone. In your feeble attempts at flirting with him all those months ago you had invited him to have movie nights or grab a bite to eat, but he always showed up with Steve and or Robin in tow.

As the night of the fake-date rolled around, you’d be embarrassed to admit it to him, or Steve, who didn’t care to hide how skeptical he was about this whole idea, that you went through your normal pre-date routine. You took some extra time on your hair and makeup, exfoliated in the shower, chose an outfit you felt confident in, added a few spritz of perfume for good measure too. 

Eddie rolled up in his van, only a few minutes late, but a few minutes was very impressive compared to his typical chronic tardiness. The two of you agreed to just grab some food and drinks at your usual spot, considering you and Steve openly agreed that it would be a good first date spot in theory. 

“Hey,” he reaches across the center console to pop the door open for you, “you look nice.”

It took you a second to register as you settled into the passenger seat, and then whip around with your arm outstretched to give him a high five. He scrunches his face at you.

“High five me Eddie, that was really good! I know you usually open the door for me anyways, but the compliment right away, A+,” you flop your hand down to gently slap his, still gripping the steering wheel. 

“Don’t patronize me, y/n,” deep down he knew you weren’t trying to talk down to him, and deep down he hadn’t even given complimenting you a second thought, he really did think you looked great in your date get-up. 

On the ride over to the bar, the two of you discuss some logistics. Considering all of this is just practice dating, you don’t expect Eddie to pay for you, but you explain that in theory if he had been the one to ask you out then he should be the one to pay for the first date. 

“To me it’s less of a gender thing and more of a who asked out who thing, but I know some people would abide to the stereotypical ‘the man always pays’ standard, which is why you’d just have to be honest on date like two or three about what you enjoy doing and what sorts of things are in your budget. You can still have fun and be thoughtful without spending a lot of money.”

He asked a few questions, like if he should have gotten you flowers for a first date, or what he should do if someone asks to go to a fancy restaurant that he surely couldn’t afford. You tried your best to give solid advice, but always reminded him that every person is different and every relationship is different, so all he can do is be honest. 

You take up a spot at the bar and both order for yourselves, splitting some fries and slipping into some easy conversation. 

“Am I supposed to, like, beat someone up if a guy tries hitting on you in front of me or something like that?” you nearly choke on your drink at his question. 

“Eddie, no,” you answer, also questioning, “why the hell would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “My buddy Jeff was with his girlfriend at this punk show before they were even together, and some guy made a creepy comment to Amanda and Jeff just decked the guy in the face. He say’s that’s what made her want to date him, cuz he defended her honor or whatever.”

“I guess that’s sort of circumstantial, but I prefer my dates to not engage in any sort of violence,” you sip your drink, “even if it’s for my honor. I’d like your face a lot less if you were all bruised up.”

“Well I never said I would get hit,” the two of you were laughing a bit now.

Over a few cocktails you went over some first date etiquette with him. PDA and being touchy, how to follow her lead and gauge if she’s the type who wants everyone at the bar to know you’re together, or keep it strictly platonic to start. How far of a grip on the leg is too far up, that sort of thing.  

“So if she does something like this,” you fake laugh a bit too loud and, lean into his personal space, and then run your hand from his slender down his arm, “that doesn’t necessarily mean she wants to fuck you, but it’s pretty close. You’ve at least got a green flag to get a little closer to her, tell her she looks nice, maybe offer to buy her a drink.”

“I know how to tell if someone finds me attractive, y/n, I’m not stupid,” he said casually, “obviously that girl the other night was hitting on me, I’m not blind. I wasn’t going to ask to buy her a drink or try and get lucky in the bathroom because I was out with my friends. I can find a quick fuck in a bar on my own time. I was having fun with you guys, I wasn’t going to abandon all of you to talk to some stranger, even if she was hot.”  

“Oh,” you processed his comment, “Steve would be happy to know he ranks above tube-top girl.”

“Steve would be happy to be above tube-top girl in any context,” he jokes. 

“You really just find random girls in bars to fuck?” You question, not in any sort of judgmental way, just curious. 

“Not specifically, I guess I did make myself sound like some serial bar-bathroom type of guy. I never really had girls interested in me when I was in high school, at least the first four years of it. Then when we started playing regular gigs at The Hideout it was a little easier to find girls who were interested, but it was always that they were more into fucking some guy who could play guitar and was in a band, so it usually just always happened on-site, probably cuz they had an actual boyfriend or husband to go home to. Girls think I’m fun. Which isn’t untrue, I do enjoy a romp in the Hideout bathroom, or the back of my van, or wherever we end up.”

“So that’s what all those blankets are back there for,” you say with a fake scowl, referring to his van set-up. 

“Not exclusively! They make a cozy nest for smoking blunts and listening to tapes too!” 

You return to your drink, trying not to think too hard about the girls that Eddie brings to bar bathrooms or his van or wherever. 

“I just find the energy of those situations very different from like, talking and getting to know someone. Fucking is easy. I’m not interested in ruining that by adding emotions and the looming feeling like sex is contingent on me acting a certain way or checking a certain number of boxes for someone.” 

He shrugged, and you could understand where he was coming from, sometimes a quick fuck or hookup could be cathartic and easy. But it also saddened you to think that Eddie believed he had to get in and out before the person on the other end got the chance to know him. 

Moving away from the subject of his inability to be emotionally vulnerable, the two of you practice some cheesy ‘first date’ questions as you had called them. As your drinks started to settle into your system you were having more fun being silly with him, pretending to be a stranger on a first date. 

“When’s your birthday?” You ask, twirling your drink straw with your finger and making some fake flirty eyes at him to accentuate the facade of asking him a bunch of questions you mostly knew the answers to. 

“August 9th,” he flips his hair over his shoulder, joining in on your fake ostentatious flirting. 

“Oh my gosh, a Leo! This will never work out, cuz I’m an asparagus…”

The two of you nearly fall out of your bar stools laughing, realizing you meant to say Sagittarius. 

“Okay, let’s get you home Asparagus,” he helped you up, having kept his drinking to a minimum so he could drive you home. 

“Wait, wait,” you grabbed his arm as the two of you exited the bar, “can we go back to your trailer?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, “that’s a little presumptuous for a first date missy.”

“No, no, this isn’t girlfriend y/n asking, just regular friend y/n, who thinks it would be a lot of fun to smoke and watch a movie without Steve there spewing all his annoying fun facts, like, we get it, you read the little insert inside the tape while you were bored at work!”

Eddie did agree that the idea of packing a bowl and watching a few movies with you didn’t sound too different from what his plans would have been otherwise, so he agreed, as long as you promised not to give him any dating advice while hanging out as friend y/n and not girlfriend y/n. 

Although you promised to try your best, you immediately started lecturing him on t-shirt borrowing and the potential weight that could hold in a relationship when he offered to give you some more comfy clothes to change into. 

“It’s important to know!” You emerged from the bathroom in one of his oversized shirts and a pair of boxers, “Some girls are very touchy about it. Any shirt you lend her to sleep in, you have to be willing to sacrifice for life.”

“For life?!” Eddie finishes making a bowl of popcorn for the two of you, swallowing his words when he sees you in his clothes, an unidentifiable emotion rising in him at the sight of you so cozy and integrated into his space. 

“Well maybe not life,” you plop down onto the couch, “but do NOT ask for it back. Most girls will give it back once it stops smelling like you.”

“If she gets my shirt, can I have her underwear?” He asked without thinking, the weed he had just smoked with you hitting him a bit too hard in that moment. 

“Oh my god,” you squeal and bury your face into a pillow, “la la la la, pretending like I didn’t hear that!”

“I’m just saying!” He laughs at you, now curled up into a ball, “fair is fair, right?”

“I guess it depends on the girl,” you mumble. 

“So I’m guessing not you, by your reaction.”

“Eddie!” You smack him with a pillow, “I don’t know, no one’s ever asked!”

“If my girlfriend isn’t going to ask before stealing my shirt for an indefinite amount of time, I think that gives me panty privilege.”

“Wow Eddie, if I had known you were such a perv I would’ve reconsidered being your fake girlfriend,” you say sarcastically, with no real judgement behind it. The idea of him wanting to steal your underwear dampens them ever so slightly. 

“Don’t worry babe, I won’t do anything pervy to you unless you ask nicely,” he shoots a wink at you, which you meet with an eye roll and a turn away to hopefully hide the heat rising in your cheeks. 

The two of you carry out your platonic movie night as planned. You suppressed any urge to note on his actions from a romantic lens, and he ignored the itching desire to sling his arm around your shoulder or pull your legs into his lap to get more comfy on the couch. 

“Can I sleep here Eddie,” you ask after movie two, “too sleepy to move.”

“Sure, I can take the couch and you can have my bed. It’s been a minute since I washed the sheets but it shouldn’t be too bad…”

“Nonono,” you mumble, “Your legs will totally hang right off the end of this thing. I’m conked out anyways, I can crash right here I promise.”

“Ignoring that you’re my fake girlfriend, I’m not letting you sleep out here on this lumpy thing. You’re taking the bed, no arguments.”

He helps you up from the couch, letting you keep the blanket that’s wrapped around you, snaking his arm underneath it and pulling you from the couch by your lower back. You were slightly taken aback by his assistance, body still limp from your relaxed state, your torso easily arching into his. Your arms fly up to grab his shoulders, steadying yourself with an awkward giggle. 

“In the real world, a time like this would be good for a first kiss,” you make note of your closeness, the way he swept you up off the couch and held you steadily as you made your way to your feet. 

“I know that, y/n,” his face was closer to yours than it had ever been, making your words hitch in your throat. 

“Well, I’m just saying,” you turn your head to avoid the tension, “I’m sure the way you kiss your bar-hookups isn’t the way most girls who’re looking to date you long term want to be kissed for the first time.”

‘Oh yeah? And how do you presume that goes?” He kept his hand planted on your lower back.

You pretend to act wildly drunk, throwing yourself at him and letting your limbs go a bit heavier than they already were. “Ohmygod guitar man, I’ve had like, six dirty Shirleys, please finger bang me in the bathroom,” you slur your words and let your tongue loll out the side of your mouth as if to lean in for the world’s sloppiest and most uncoordinated kiss.

“First of all,” his voice was very serious, “I don’t hook up with girls who are too inebriated to stand, let’s get that straight. As a matter of fact, I wouldn’t even have our first fake kiss like this on account of the drinking and smoking, gotta make sure you’re in the right headspace. Secondly,” 

He spins you around and quickly backs you up against the wall that stood a few feet behind the couch. His hand sliding up in between your shoulder blades, blanket now slumped around your waist, his other hand suavely cupping the side of your cheek, His hips angled into yours, pinning you back against the vinyl, almost collapsing back into it. 

He pressed against you, not aggressively, but enough to let you know that if you were to try and squirm away he had the capacity to keep you right where he wanted you. He accomplished this all in one elegant motion, leaving you a bit dazed.

As you started to snap into reality, he moves his hand from your cheek down to grab your chin in between his thumb and the knuckle of his pointer, angling your face directly up at him. 

“If you were some girl in a bar, it would be like this.”

The moment before your brain turned to absolute mush, you silently cringed at the thought of what you must look like, mouth hanging open, eyes glassed over, body instinctively sinking into his touch. Pathetic, you were sure of it. 

Sure, Eddie did think you looked a little helpless, but he also thought you looked perfect. Exactly as he had imagined you to in this situation. Of course he had thought about you before, like that.

Of course he had felt an immediate spark with you when you had first met. But he never flirted back, or lead you on, because as much as he was attracted to you and enjoyed your company, he knew that it wouldn’t work out. He wasn’t relationship material, and you were the picture perfect girlfriend that he didn’t deserve. 

He spoke directly into your parted lips, mouth hovering just far enough away to toe the line of ‘holy shit, is he going to?’ But no, as he made very clear, he wouldn’t kiss you under these conditions. He had made his point, and slowly backed off and let you find your footing. 

As soon as he was sure that you were steady, he backed away and started down the hallway. 

“I might have an extra toothbrush stashed away somewhere, let me look…” he ducked into the bathroom, leaving you stunned in the kitchen, head swimming and your stomach traveled up into your throat. 

He was teasing you, he must be. That was his little way of getting back at you for thinking you could give him dating advice. If he was unsure about his capacity for romance, he was going to make sure you knew he was more than capable in other ways. Understood. 

You shook your head, weeding through your inner monologue of how he could possibly look at you like that and then just walk away. Your shock gave him just long enough for you to to not notice him splashing cold water on his face in the bathroom while he “looked for a toothbrush.” 

The two of you decided to ignore the lingering tension from the events in the kitchen, not a peep of fake-girlfriend talk from you for the rest of the night. He did find you that toothbrush, and the two of you moved through a too-easy domestic routine of getting ready for bed. 

You told him that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you knew he was cramped on that couch, and that you were fine with sharing a bed. You mumbled something about  getting around to bed sharing etiquette at some point anyways, and sleepily pulled him into being your little spoon. 

Eddie lay there, trying not to twitch or fidget, relaxed as best he could into your cuddled form thinking about how horrible of an idea all of this was. He was convinced all it would take is roughly ten more minutes of you burying your face into his hair and making cute little sleepy noises for him to fall irreversibly in love with you. 

But what was he supposed to do? Move and wake you up? Never. 

You rolled around enough in the night to wake up in a less intimate position than when you had fallen asleep. You knew Eddie was a deep sleeper, and took it upon yourself to creep out of bed and back into your day clothes, make a pot of coffee, and watc a bit of TV before he roused and joined you in the living room. 

“Why didn’t you wake me?” He rubbed the crust from his eyes and was pleasantly surprised to see you had brewed a whole pot of coffee to share. 

“You looked so peaceful and cozy,” he shook his head at you, as if that was no excuse for letting him sleep an extra forty minutes.  

After a slow morning, he agrees to drive you home. 

“So this is the part where I say ‘Eddie, I had such a wonderful time on our date. I’d love to do it again sometime.’ And then you agree and tell me when you’re free. It’s best to be super direct and make plans to get together again soon, cuz then it’s not an awkward who’s-gonna-call-who-first sort of thing.”

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly. 

“But for our sake, let’s just agree that I’m in charge of planning our next date. Okay? I’ll do it from the perspective of what I think most girls would enjoy, so you can steal it for the future. I’ll call you later.” 

You hop out of his van before he can agree, and leave him with a “Thanks for letting me stay over!” As you bound away from his view. 

He squeezed his eyes shut the moment he caught himself checking your ass out as you walked away, and let his head rest down on the steering wheel. He was fucked. How the hell was he supposed to tell you that you needed to stop being his fake girlfriend without disrupting the homeostasis of your friendship?

On one hand he could lie and say he doesn’t want your advice, making you think he didn’t enjoy your company, which was entirely untrue. On the other hand he could tell you the truth, and you would never be friends the same way again. 

He drove home with the music too loud, and patiently awaited your call later that evening to iron out the details of your second fake-date. 

Per your instructions, he let you pick him up this time with the argument that you were the one taking him out this time. He didn’t know what you had planned, but let himself fall to the mercy of whatever you had decided was an exemplary date fore him to ‘steal in the future’. 

You picked up two coffees and rolled up to the trailer park, popping a mix-tape he had made you ages ago. 

“Hey, I thought we said no paying for each other with fake-dating,” he objects to the coffee sat in the passenger cupholder, some abomination of mostly cream and sugar, the way you know he likes it. 

“Yes, that’s true, but you smoked me up the other night, and this coffee was like a dollar fifty, so don’t worry about it,” you give him a look that tells him to drink the damn coffee and not sass back, to which he complies, even though he smokes you up expecting nothing in return about every other weekend. 

The two of you sip away and listen to Eddies ‘must-know-to-be-my-friend’ mixtape and arrive shortly at the strip mall across town. This was a regular weekly stop for both of you, the strip of connected stores containing the Goodwill, a pet store, the pharmacy, and grocery. A pretty mundane collection. 

“Okay, what are we doing at Greg’s?” Eddie gestures to the grocery store, the back of his mind running through the grocery list he’s been making for this week anyways.

“What’s the perfect date?” You ask, and answer for him, “a romantic picnic. But gathering supplies is half the fun. Picnic food supplies at Greg’s, some pills to get fucked up at the pharm, some turtles or something to let loose into the wild from the pet store, and then hats, cups, blanket, etcetera from the Goodwill.”

He turns to you with the most bewildered stare, which sends you into a fit of giggles.

“Okay, I’m joking about the pills and the turtles,” you nudge his arm, “but won’t it be sweet to get together some picnic supplies and then drive out to lookout point? We can still swing by the pet store to check out the ferrets though.”

To Eddie, the idea of a date involved him doing something he didn’t want to do, some awkward small talk, and spending money on shit he truly thought was useless. This didn’t sound half bad. You would “work backwards so the food purchases come last” according  to your reasoning, and he followed you in tow without any arguments into the Goodwill.

“So I’m thinking…” you start to wander into the aisles of used clothes and knick knacks, “maybe a blanket? A basket would be sort of corny, but if we find one for cheap I don’t see why not. Surely two glasses for drinking, and maybe some sun hats?”

Swiveling back around to see a half stunned Eddie, who was still processing how in the hell this was your idea of a romantic date, you grab his hand and pull him to the bric-a-brac section. 

After it got through his thick skull that the same place he had uncomfortably tried on new pants throughout his growth spurt, and picked up his daily-worn leather jacket, had the same potential to provide some silly, cheap, used items to add some flair to this picnic. 

Silly and cheap was right up Eddie’s alley. The two of you picked out mismatched champagne glasses, one with the engraved name of a couple who got married in 1943 and the other a flashy rose color with baby angel carvings dancing around the sides. 

You luckily find an on sale beach blanket, and the two of you pick out some very goofy sun hats. A floppy farmers hat for you, and a bedazzled trucker hat spelling ‘hot mama’ for Eddie.

Through the midst of your giggles and debate on whether you should buy a wooden bench to bring out to your picnic destination, Eddie found himself having a really good time with you. 

As promised, you visited the pet store and checked out the ferrets and fish and geckos. 

“If you could have any pet, what would you want?” You asked him, noses pressed against the chinchilla enclosure. 

“Jaguar,” he said, a little too quickly.

“For real, dummy,” you knock your hip into his.

“I don’t know, we never had enough space or extra money for pets growing up, so maybe someday if I had enough room for it to run around I’d like a dog or something,” he tells. Eyes still transfixed on the chinchilla behind the glass. 

“I can see that,” you imagine Eddie with some mutt from the shelter, wrestling around and giving it lots of scratches behind the ears. 

Skipping the pharmacy, you pop into the grocery store and assemble what may be the world’s most eclectic picnic. 

“That’s the definition of a picnic, I’m pretty sure,” you explain after Eddie insinuated that the gingersnap cookies you grabbed, along with grapes and a block of cheese, wasn’t exactly a meal, “you know, just a smorgasbord of whatever we want!”

Admittedly, Eddie had considered a handful of pretzels and a beer to be dinner on more than one occasion, so he couldn’t argue with you. Quickly catching your drift, the two of you picked out an assortment of snacks and some ingredients for pb&j sandwiches. 

“I thought picnics were supposed to be classy?” Eddie holds up the Wonder bread and bag of potato chips with a look that suggested his question was rhetorical.

Your response was simply to raise the, admittedly cheap, bottle of champagne you grabbed to accompany with your meal, more for the irony of drinking the bubbly liquid out of your new used glasses with your sticky sandwiches than anything else. 

You pack your supplies into a tote bag, not having found a suitable basket at the thrift store, and drive across town to a dirt paved road that leads to a nice lookout point with a view of the lake. 

“Let’s walk down the path a little bit, but not too far,” you grab the blanket and tote bag from your trunk, motioning for Eddie to put on his ‘hot mama’ hat and carry your other auxiliary supplies, “I do not fuck with bugs.”

“I’ll protect you,” Eddie puffs out his chest, making you both giggle.

“From bugs?”

“Yeah, I’ll punch a mosquito right in the face, to defend your honor and all that.”

“I know I told you not to do that, but a mosquito might be the exception to the rule.”

You found a nice little clearing not far from the car, a spot that still had a nice view but was a bit more secluded. Eddie sat pressed right up next to you, making your sandwich ‘to be a proper gentleman’ but simultaneously spilling a glob of jelly onto your leg.

“Shit,” he doesn’t think twice before leaning down and slurping the grape flavored blob off of your bare knee, tongue poking out and licking the spilt jelly from your skin.

“Eddie!” You squirm away, barking out a surprised laugh. 

“What! Your knee is clean, wouldn’t want to waste perfectly good preserves, or a napkin.”

You feel your skin tingle where his lips had touched you, for only a moment, but you still felt it. He was so confident and casual in his movements, not having any hesitation to grab your hand or brush your hair out of your face. It wasn’t under the guise of fake romance, he had always been like that. Not touchy, per se, just sure of himself. You’d never seen Eddie do anything half assed, that’s for certain.

After the conversation you shared the other night, you were unable to stop your mind from wandering to thoughts of what Eddie does with those girls in bars, if he touched him with the same confidence and sureness he put into everything else he did. 

It was wrong to let your mind go to such dirty places about someone you considered a friend, but you couldn’t manage to feel any guilt. He had offered that information freely, so who were you to punish yourself for staring a little longer at his fingers, conjuring up the context in which he’d bury them inside you against some grimy bar bathroom. 

The date was all peanut butter smiles and bubbly laughter that floated up into the trees. Silly, yes, but neither of you could deny there was something sweet, maybe even romantic about it. A cheap meal in the woods shared between two friends in ill-fitting fifty cent hats, but an undeniable touch of romance lingered nonetheless. 

Eddie started to realize that maybe the whole dating thing wasn’t as uptight and scary as he had initially thought. It could be easy and fun, with the right person. And fuck, if he could even imagine doing this with anyone but you. 

Like most things Eddie did, he did not consider any potential consequences before acting. You looked so pretty sitting there in the sunshine, sipping from your cheap ‘Martha & Dave ’43’ glass, a few sandwich crumbs dotting the corner of your mouth.

What else was he supposed to do other than lean over and wipe them away with his thumb, stroking your soft cheek and feel the warmth of your skin beneath his palm. 

“You had some,” he uses his other hand to motion at his own mouth, “and I suppose this is the sort of moment where I’d ask if I can kiss you.” 

You find yourself a bit dumbfounded, his big stupid hand on your cheek and those big stupid puppy dog eyes unrelenting in making everything he says seem so genuine.

“Are you?” You find your voice, only half embarrassed at how shy it comes out.

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

“Yeah,” his answer comes out in a way that insinuates that he never meant anything other than that, that he was always asking to kiss you, he wasn’t asking in theory, in another universe, in the context of advice. 

“Okay,” you found yourself behaving like Eddie, not really thinking of consequences before your words and actions spoke on behalf of your instincts.

Everything so far had been so easy. Your fake first date at the bar, curling up next to him in a haze, making up stories about what sort of people donated the fake palm tree or the Garfield mug at the Goodwill, imagining Eddie running around a yard with a puppy, lounging in the grass and eating your assorted picnic snacks. It was all effortless.

Suddenly, being kissed by Eddie sucked the ease from your lungs and sent your mind spiraling into a cacophony of bells and whistles and giant swirling red flags. If this is how he kissed you, casually across some half eaten peanut butter sandwiches, you’d spend the rest of your days yearning to know how he kissed someone with true intention. 

Of course, his intentions were all there, but the lingering knowledge that all of this was happening under the umbrella of “you giving him advice” or “helping practice for the next girl” poisoned any true feeling he poured into it. He cupped your cheek, soft, let his lips press into yours delicately for a moment before he felt your breath hitch, opening his mouth just enough to deepen the kiss and capture your lower lip fully. 

He was more careful, gentle, methodic with his movements and so receptive to every little signal your body gave him, it was unlike any first-kiss, heat-of-the-moment-kiss, in-the-throws-of-passion-kiss, any of it. Like hell you’d ever tell him that, inflate that big ego that fuels his snippy comebacks at you, but Jesus, was it remarkable. 

While at war with yourself internally, your heart was on the precipice of exploding in your chest from the way he snaked his hand into your hair and pressed his forehead against yours to catch a breath. You suck in a sharp breath and feel that stupid cocky smirk creep up onto that pretty mouth of his.

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

“Fuck offfff,” you were still a little out of breath, smacking his chest and flopping back down onto the picnic blanket, throwing your arms up and rolling your eyes at him, “if you’re so damn confident, maybe we just should fake break up, cuz you don’t seem like you need my advice.”

“Nooooo,”he slumps down next to you, burrowing his head under your arm so he can pop up right next to your face, “I’m learning a lot, I promise! This date was so fun, and cheap! I would have never thought any of this could be remotely romantic. I’m hopeless, y/n, look at me.”

He wriggles around and gives you a big fake pout, “If left to my own devices I would probably do something horribly embarrassing or off-putting, like…” he digs his head into the crook of your neck and blew a fat, wet raspberry right into your skin, making you yelp and squeal, but his position half on top of you pins you down. 

“See!” He pulls up for air, you were in a fit of screaming giggles, “I’d go right in for a kiss and just,” and he does it again, leaving you gasping for air, trying your best to tickle his ribs to get him off of you, but not minding the close contact by any means. 

“Now I’m not so sure,” he pulls back to give you a minute to catch your breath, “it seems like you enjoyed that, so maybe survey says I should pull that move on the ladies.”

Your airy laughter subsided, but he stays half pinning you down to the blanket and the lumpy grass underneath.

“I didn’t mean to give you the impression that I’m not grateful for your help,” he says earnestly, catching your gaze, “it’s just… this isn’t what I need help with.”

As his statement is processing, you find his lips back on yours, his torso pressed flushed with yours and his wild mane of hair coming down to curtain around your head. He doesn’t take it too far, but kisses you as earnestly as he had before, giving your lip a slight drag with his teeth and running his hand up from your hip up the side of your ribcage, leaving you arching slightly into him by pure instinct.

Before your head got too dizzy again, before you could really throw yourself into it and say fuck it and kiss him back the way you secretly wanted to, he pulled back.

“That.” his voice was even, you hated how needy you felt and how even keeled he could be milliseconds after stealing the air from your lungs, “It’s the rest of it,” he threw his hands up and gestured to all the food and knock knacks around you, “it’s this stuff that you make seem so easy, so forgive me if I lay it on a little thick when we get to the parts I’m actually good at.”

“Just,” you sat up a bit, grounding yourself and formulating a response despite your brain looping the past twenty seconds back infinitely, “don’t do that again.”

“Okay,” he sat back and popped a grape into his mouth, “sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” you knocked his knee with yours, struggling to articulate how you felt without showing too much of your hand, deciding to just be candid, “I just- I liked that a little too much if you know what I mean. And this is strictly business, or education, maybe?”

“You liked it when I pinned you against the wall the other night,” he said matter of factly, “I think you liked that a little too much too, and you still took me on this fake educational business date.”

“Yeah, well, you caught me,” you threw your hands up in defense.

“Which one is it though?” He asks and you don’t quite understand, “are you a sweet kiss on the picnic kind of girl, or an up against the wall kind of girl?”

“That’s none of your business, as far as fake-dating is concerned,” you say a little too quickly, “and no you can’t have my panties.”

You say it with a smirk, but he doesn’t press any further. He turns and does that Eddie-thing he’s so good at, just changing the subject and shifting the vibe completely away from what might have been a stale moment or awkward pause. He starts asking if you like green or purple grapes better, going off about how he used to put them in the freezer as a kid. 

The remainder of your date went without a hitch, of course. You picked away at your picnic until the sun started to set, and once the sky started turning purple you made your way back to the car. The drive home consisted only of easy conversation and no further mention of the kiss, well, kisses that had transpired. He hopped out of the passenger seat with a ‘thank you’ and a ‘see ya later alligator.’ 

A scalding hot shower, a restless night of sleep, and too many cups of herbal tea the next morning did nothing to quell the noise in your head that blasted those moments over and over. You couldn’t stop picking apart whether he had thought about it for even a millisecond, and felt embarrassed that you could think of nothing else. 

It was simply an amplified version of what your whole friendship had been up until this point. You silently admiring him and wishing he would look at you the way you looked at him, and settling for friendship over heartbreak. 

Pushing it aside to the best of your ability allowed you to get through your week, but you had the lingering feeling that the next time you saw him would strike you with warm cheeks and a scrambled mental state.

Guilt had started to seep in at the corners of your mind, but you reminded yourself that you shouldn’t punish yourself for having romantic or sexual thoughts about someone you simply found attractive and compelling, it was your actions that would determine the validity of your guilt. 

“Long time no see, loser,” Robin hollered from the pool table across the bar, where she was likely kicking Steve’s ass. 

“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” you shrug off your coat and plop down at their regular booth, knowing her jabs were entirely empty. You notice Eddie’s leather jacket hung up by the wall, and scan the bar to find him ordering a drink. 

There was a silent mutual understanding that you’d keep the fake dating thing to a bare minimum when out with your friends like this. Even though Steve was well aware, and therefore Robin was too, you figured tainting your social time with the performance of romance is the exact reason Eddie turned down the girl at the bar in the first place. 

“For the lady,” Eddie waltzes over and hands you a drink.

“Oh, thanks,” you take it with a confused smile, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“You bought me coffee last weekend,” he sat across the booth from you, “plus I’m trying to get better at buying drinks for pretty girls, right?”

You remind him that he doesn’t have to keep tabs on things like coffee, but you appreciate the gesture regardless. As per the past few times you’d been out with your friends, you expected him to put a pause on the flirting, but it seems to be bubbling over tonight. You weren’t complaining, but admittedly the arm around your shoulder or the noticeable way he checked you out when you got up to refill your drink took you by slight surprise. 

Sneaking in to claim the always occupied dart board for a challenge against Eddie while he uses the restroom, you keep your eyes on the corner of the bar to signal him over once he returns.

“You need a partner?” A man suddenly appears behind you, a little closer than you’d like but the bar was crowded, so you’ll let it slide. 

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

“Let me fill in until your friend gets here, we can get you warmed up, yeah?” His tone wasn’t too pushy, but you didn’t love the look he gave you when making that comment.

Awkwardly staggering for a second, unsure weather to just agree or tell him to fuck off, “He really should be just a minute-“

“Or maybe less,” Eddie comes up right behind you and pulls you possessively into his side.

Your head whips up to see him with a devilish smile, his hand on your waist and the fire behind his eyes telling his guy to get lost.

“Oh, sorry man,” the guy starts backing away with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, better luck next time, pal,” Eddie snakes around to take the guy’s spot in front of the dart board.

He had his darts in hand and took his stance to start the match, gesturing for you to do the same. 

“What was that,” you ask with a slight joking tone, but seriously curious.

“What?” He doesn’t make eye contact and instead throws the first dart, “I’m not allowed to get fake jealous?”

“You’re allowed to feel any fake emotion you want, I guess,” your tone is somewhere in between a joke and a question. 

“You’d feel fake jealous if I was getting blown in the bathroom by some chick rather than playing darts with you, I bet.”

“Okay,” your tone shifts to defensive, “getting blown is very different than some guy asking to play darts with me.”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” Eddie turns to face you, having thrown all his darts, “for real.”

A moment lapsed where you didn’t register that your mouth was hanging open in disbelief, the look in your eyes Eddie immediately clocked as lust and bottled up to store away for a later time. 

“I knew the scary dog thing would work,” his ‘i-told-you-so’ tone rubbed you the wrong way, but he wasn’t wrong, “you said girls weren’t into that, but you totally looooove that I defended your honor.”

“Don’t give yourself too much credit, I said girls wouldn’t be into it if you punched him,” you rolled your eyes.

“I don’t know, babe, I think you liked the whole ‘back off of my woman’ act.”

You mumble out a ‘whatever’ and let him have this win, which he was clearly reveling in, trying to focus instead at beating him at darts. 

“Just don’t pull shit like that on a first date, acting too possessive off the bat is a huge red flag for a lot of women.”

“I thought we weren’t doing dating advice tonight?” You don’t even have to look at him to know he’s got that stupid sarcastic smile.

“Yeah I thought so too,” you fail at your attempt to beat him in darts, as well as your attempt to not flirt back with him. 

He insists on collecting all the darts, picking up the ones haphazardly strews across the floor from failed attempts to hit the board. 

“I’m no pro or anything, but I think you’d hit the board a lot more if you fixed your stance.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” you flip him the bird and take back your red tipped darts. 

As you steady your arm to aim your first shot he comes up behind you and grabs your hips, causing you to let out an unexpected squeak. He adjusts your stance, not aggressively, but with some force, twisting your hips and using his big combat boot to sweep your foot around so you stood more sideways. 

“You’re standing straight on,” he backs up, allowing you to secretly catch your breath, “and all your shots are veering to the right. If you plant your feet more angled you’ll hit the board.”

You wanted to roll your eyes at him, miss on purpose to show him he’s full of shit. You flippantly toss the dart, not trying particularly hard, and it hits. Not a bulls-eye or anything like that, but a lot closer than your previous attempts had been. 

“Good girl,” he comments, leaning in to breech your personal space just enough to make your blood boil.

You drop the remainder of the darts in your opposite hand onto the floor and whip around to face him, half jokingly smacking him on the shoulder. 

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

You’re met with his trademark shit-eating grin.

Truthfully, Eddie hadn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night. He’d spent the night after your picnic date with his hand in bis boxers, squeezing his eyes shut and remembering the little gasp you had made when he grabbed your waist, the hum in your throat that bubbled up when he kissed you pinned against the blanket, that night and every night since. 

“Oh, you don’t like that?” that joking tone he uses to cover up what he actually wants to say. 

“Shut up, you know I do,” you didn’t even try to stifle your reaction, knowing it was his intent to get under your skin.

“How would I possibly know that,” he playfully looks up at the ceiling and around the bar, hands clasped behind his back now, rocking back and forth on his heels.

“You better cut that shit out, unless you plan on doing something about it,” you manage the most assertive tone your wobbly insides could muster, a little shocked at yourself for actually saying what you were thinking. 

“I’m not much of a planner,” he gracefully takes a stance next to you and rips all three darts, not great shots, but all hitting the board, “I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of guy, you know that.”

“Well your pants better make up their mind if you’re playing boyfriend tonight or not,” your insinuation was heavy but you had fumbled your hand, and he had already seen all your cards at this point, so there was no reason to bluff.

“The real question is,” he leans in, his imposing figure crowding your space in a way that made your head spin, “do you want me to play boyfriend? Or do you want me to play guy who fucks your brains out in the bar bathroom?”

Your eyebrows pinched together for a millisecond, and before he could decipher your expression you grabbed his hand and started storming through the crowds hoarded by the bar. Why the hell a seedy downtown bar has a single stall family bathroom with a changing table is beyond you, but you drag him inside and slam the lock down behind you. 

“You’re not allowed to treat me any differently after this,” you start to fall into the sinkhole of oh my god what the hell is about to happen, but are cut off by him pressing you against the closed door the exact way he had handled you against his kitchen wall that night weeks ago. 

“Not unless you want me to,” he doesn’t hesitate to get his mouth on yours, immediately pulling your mind from wondering what the vague sticky substance on the door pressing into your back could be. 

“I mean, you’re not allowed to fuck me and then never talk to me again,” you say in between moving lips and tongues, giving him a moment to bury his face in your neck, "Promise me."

“Oh don’t worry about that,” he pulls back, “we can go get coffee tomorrow and you can give me a full performance review. Promise.”

Your annoyed eye roll quickly turns into them fluttering shut as he licks a stripe up to the junction behind your ear that has you melted into a boneless puddle between his pressing hips and the door. He drags his teeth across your lobe while leaning into you with a black denim clad thigh.

“Why don’t we make a deal,” you let out, voice breathy and unfocused. Before he can even pull back to reply you continue, “if you’re half as good at this as you claim to be, and can make me cum in this dingy bathroom, I’ll let you take me back to your trailer and you can do whatever the fuck you want to me.”

He was leaning in to seal the deal with a kiss before he could even process your request, because yes of course, a million times yes he’s taking this deal. Despite the rouse of you playing bar hookup for the night, and despite the idea of bringing you back to his place and finally doing what he’s wanted since the day he met you absolutely terrifying him, he nods and kisses you. 

It’s electrifying. His confidence only spurs you on to kiss him harder, grip his hair a little tighter, say the things you would only imagine in the deepest parts of your mind. The feeling of his grin against your lower lip and his fingers quickly unbuttoning your jeans fuels your fire. 

“You sure you know what you’re getting into,” he mumbles playfully, pulling you away from the wall with a gasp and leading you over to the tiny built in counter against a mirror by the sink. 

“Well I’m certainly not letting you fuck me against any of these sticky surfaces,” you note as you’re lifted onto the counter covered in mystery substance, “and I think you need to earn it.”

Of course it was no surprise to you that Eddie was good with his fingers. You probably could have told anyone that long before this impromptu bathroom hookup. Egging him on and challenging him in a way you were sure he wasn’t used to was well worth abandoning your assumptions. 

“Oh yeah? I think, if you’re lucky, I’ll earn it more times than you can count before the night’s over,” he positioned himself in between your legs, pressing your torso into the mirror behind you as he leaned in for another heated kiss. 

He pulled your ass to the edge of the counter, and looped his thumbs into the waistband of your unbuttoned pants. You were quick to assume that he’d yank the fabric right off your legs, preparing to lift your ass from the counter to assist.

Eddie paused, pulled back and gave you a look that asked ‘you’re sure about this?’ and when a dreamy smile spread across your cheeks he melted into you with a kiss that turned your stomach inside out and made your pussy flutter.

He snakes a hand from its grip on your torso down into your unbuttoned pants. You arched up into his touch, wanting to urge him to get on with it and get your pants and underwear out of the way, but appreciating how much he seemed to be reveling in feeling you for the first time. 

“So fuckin wet,” he mumbled against your lips, his fingers only feeling up your cunt from outside your underwear. He pressed the fabric into your slick center, following the path up to your clit and then teasingly back down to where your panties were soaked through.

“You weren’t lying when you said you liked this a little too much,” he’s rolling his hips ever so slightly against your spread thigh as he rubs your clothed pussy, his teeth sinking into your lower lip as he moves the material aside and sinks two fingers right into your wet cunt with ease.

You were sure that you’d retrospectively have a million quippy compacks that come to mind, but in this moment it was impossible to come up with words when his fingers were buried inside you, still, just letting you squeeze around them, and his hard cock straining against his jeans nestled against the inside of your thigh.

He slowly drags his finger’s up from your hole to your clit, and you let out a whine of desperation as he fully removes his hand from your damp underwear. 

Before you can manage the breath to tell him to please, for the love of god, get on with it, he brings his fingers up to his lips and gives them a long suck, never breaking eye contact with you. 

“Yeah,” he sighs out and presses his forehead against yours, “I might like that a little too much too.”

Protests and urging words catch in your throat as he yanks down your pants and underwear with one quick pull, not even needing you to lift your ass off the counter more than it already was. He was methodical and moved with intention, folding up your pants neatly and shoving your soaked panties into his back pocket, shooting you a wink. 

“Eddie, please,” your overdue complaints are finally bubbling over. You hardly finish your plea before his face is buried in your neck, and his fingers are sliding right back into your needy hole. 

The top of your head rests against the mirror behind you, exposing your neck and arching your back into his touch. He sucks and nips at the soft skin between your collar bone and ear, all while letting his two middle fingers pump slowly into you.

“Mmmm,” he mumbles into the crook of your jaw, “such a good girl for me, perfect pussy squeezing my fingers so tight, can’t fuckin wait to feel you soak my cock.”

Nearly orgasming at his words alone, your eyes flutter shut and you let out a moan of his name as he lets his thumb drag circles across your clit. “Eddie, please, just like that, I-”

“Oh, suddenly she’s not questioning my abilities?” he says with a biting smirk, “What was that about me not being half as good as I think I am?”

“Fuck,” you want to raise an eyebrow and shoot something back, hold out and make him work for it, but after hardly two minutes of his fingers rolling inside you, hooked up to drag along that perfect fucking spot, you had no choice but to feed his ego and let him win. 

“You wanted to make your little deal,” he pumps a little faster, making your head loll to the side and mouth hang half open, “I’ll sweeten it for you, babe. I say we can get this pretty pussy to come twice all over my fingers before anyone even knocks on this door.”

“Yes,” is all you can squeak out, “yes, please.”

If Eddie was being honest, he was a few half-thrusts into your thigh short of coming in his own pants from how hot you looked. Your eyes glassed over, pretty lips parted and gasping his name, perfect cunt sucking his fingers in. 

The hand not occupied by your gushing cunt slid up to cup the side of your cheek, forcing you to look into his fiery eyes. “Feel’s good?” he questions, knowing the answer and not expecting a verbal response.

He drags the pad of his thumb up to your parted lips, running it along your plush bottom lip and dragging it down a bit, relishing in how under his spell you were. His thumb slips into your mouth and you immediately wrap your lips around it and suck. 

“Good girl,” his thumb on your clit is rubbing more focused circles, “suck on that and keep your voice down, don’t want the whole bar knowing what a good little slut you are for me.”

Jackpot. 

A muffled moan around his thumb and the spasming of your inner walls signaled that you were hitting your peak. He drags the spit slicked digit from your lips and quickly replaces it with his lips and tongue, kissing you with fervor as he feels you ride out your orgasm on his hand. 

“Mmmmmmm” you moan, somewhere between a pleading whine and a sigh of satisfaction into his lips as his fingers don’t let up. 

Under different circumstances you would tell him to slow down, give you a minute to catch your breath. Eddie was stubborn, this you knew, and he had already made it abundantly clear that one orgasm wasn’t going to be enough. 

He pulls back from your lips, loving the sharp intake of breath you swallow as your cheeks continue to flush and eyelids keep fluttering. 

“So fucking good, came all over my fingers,” his gaze locks in on where his hand was buried into your cunt. “Gonna give me one more?”

Of course you would, whether it was up to you or not. He did slow up for a second, just enough for you to regain your grip on reality before he started curling them up again. 

“Eddie,” you whine out, eyes nearly crossed and unable to focus your attention on his face, hands, anything other than his boner poking into your inner thigh, “wanna feel you.”

The hand formerly gripped tight onto the edge of the counter snakes forward and pulls his hip into you, a permanent indentation of his stiff cock molding against your skin. 

“Not yet baby,” he rolls his hips forward, giving you a delicious feel of how it would be if he was inside you, but instead pushing his fingers a touch deeper and then pulling his hips away, “one more and then I’ll take you home. You’re gonna let me ruin that perfect little cunt, right? That was the deal?”

“Yes,” you gasp out, his other hand moving from your hair down to rub fast tight circles on your clit, the other hand still pumping steadily inside you.

“That’s right, I know this pussy is gonna take me so well. You’re already drooling for my cock, so fucking perfect.”

You feel it building up again, that sacred double orgasm that only ever came during your alone time in the shower or when you were so desperate for release that your hand didn’t stop after the first, but never with another person, never like this. 

His smile nearly touched his ears at this point, pulling back to take in all of you as your eyes screwed shut and thighs threatened to break his wrist at how fast they snapped together. 

Hitting you like a punch to the gut, your abdomen tightened and released rapidly, air sucked from your lungs and his hand working you through it between your clenched thighs. 

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea. 

If you were in a cartoon, stars and chirping birds would be swirling around your head as you slowly came back to reality. He gave you some space, and begrudgingly gave you pack your panties after you hand out your hand and gave him a stern look.

“I’m gonna go tell the others that you aren’t feeling great and I’m taking you home,” he makes sure you’ve pulled your pants back up before unlocking the door, “Take your time, and I’ll meet you at the van, okay? I’ll grab your stuff.”

“Yeah,” you still feel a little flustered, looking back into the mirror and smoothing down your hair, “thanks.”

He shoots you a wink before slipping out, giving you a moment to collect yourself and splash some cold water on your face. Okay, so you’re doing this. 

Any nagging feelings that this might ruin things or that he’s only teasing you because of your arrangement are quickly squished down into a deeper compartment of your brain, overtaken by the post orgasm bliss and wandering thoughts of what might happen next. 

You peek your head out of the bathroom door, and slink your way to the back door without passing your group table or a stray Steve or Robin. The fresh air equalizes your buzzing thoughts, and you spot Eddie, already in the driver’s seat of his van. 

“You good?” He asks as you hop into the passenger seat. You won’t let him have the upper hand, just because he made you come twice in under ten minutes. 

“Yeah,” you gather as much assertion as your voice will project, “You good?”

“F’course,” he starts backing up, you internally roll your eyes at the way his outstretched arm muscles and curved neck make your stomach flutter, “Just wanted to make sure I passed the test.”

You sit in silence, not wanting to give into the cocky game he clearly wants to play, yet know that he’s entirely correct in his assumption that he’s driven you completely crazy. Once he’s on the main stretch of road, finally rolling to a stop at a red light you let your hand migrate across the center console, dancing its way into his lap. 

As you hoped, his cock was still half hard and apparent underneath his jeans. You let your hand draw circles next to it, loving the little twitch you get when you run your nails against his thigh. 

“Easy there, tiger,” he lets out a huffed laugh, with just an edge to his tone that suggested you were getting yourself into something you’d soon regret. 

“C’mon Eds,” you let your head fall on the corner of the headrest, gaze angled over at his tight grip on the steering wheel while your hand dancing around the bulge in his pants, “you’ve been pushing this thing against my thigh for the past twenty minutes, forgive me for wanting a better feel.”

You put on a pretend pouty face and flash him your best puppy dog eyes to ward off any incoming snippy comments from him. He rolls his pretty eyes at you and silently bites the inside of his cheek as you feel up and down his lap, grazing his growing cock with each pass. 

“Forgiven,” through gritted teeth, he squeezes his eyes shut as your fingers circle around his head, now taking visible form beneath his black jeans. He internally reprimands himself for losing focus on the road, and zeroes his concentration on getting back to his trailer as fast as this van can take him. 

You have your fun watching him wiggle in his seat, feeling his thigh muscles clench under your palm every so often. You weren’t full on jerking him off over his pants, but you were certainly relishing in the feeling of his dick getting harder and harder with each occasional pass of your hand.

He parks diagonally across the lawn in front of his trailer, not giving a shit where the van ends up as long as it’s stopped. He wanted to dash around the vehicle and scoop you out of your seat, throw you over his shoulder and take you inside to continue with whatever this evening had in store for you.

The second his hand stalled on the clutch, shifting the van into park and taking a moment to let his mind wander to what would happen once he got you inside, you were already halfway out the van and skipping up the steps to his front door. 

Entering his trailer, you start taking off your coat and shoes, trying to act as normal as possible. Your facade of keeping it cool entirely shatters when he enters behind you, calmly clicking the door shut and patiently waiting for you to finish unlacing your boots.

You remain crouched down, darting your eyes up at him, deciding against being a brat and undoing your laces as slowly as possible to keep him waiting. Any caution you had was long swept away by the wind, and he’d taken control in your little bathroom tryst, so it was your turn to say fuck it and just do what felt right. 

And in this moment, there was only a few quick movements and about six inches of space between you and Eddie’s semi-hard dick. One shoe was only half off, haphazardly kicked behind you as you pivoted onto your knees and had your hands moving eagerly up his tensing thighs.

“Can I?” Your question was half formed and he was already nodding. 

You’d teased him enough on the ride over, you wanted him, now. Pants quickly unbuttoned and blue checkered boxers pushed down to his knees, and you were about to go feral and just go for it when a silver glimmer adorning his thick cock caught your eye.

Your mouth was already half open, but your jaw nearly unhinged and hit the floor when the pierced head of his dick falls out of his boxers and lands at your eye level. 

Unmoving, mouth agape, you look up to make eye contact, ripping your eyes away from the shock of two silver balls on his cockhead. He knew it was nice, he wouldn’t have bedazzled it if it wasn’t, but the look you were giving him sucked all the unwavering confidence from his body for a split second, suddenly feeling weak in the knees at the sight of you slowly sicking your tongue out, not making any contact but waiting. 

He took the base of his dick in his hand and gave it a few precautionary strokes before angling it down and slapping your wet tongue with the tip a few times. 

You were two and a half seconds away from being entirely fucked out. If he pulled away and asked you to crawl on all fours to him, you’d do it without a second thought.

You let him slide his cock gently against your outstretched tongue a few times before coming to your senses and wrapping your lips around him, moving your hand to replace his and move against the length that your mouth couldn’t yet reach. 

All it took was a few steady bobs of your head, hand twisting and eyes still focused upwards on his face, to have him biting his knuckle and looking up at the ceiling to ground himself to try and not bust on the spot. You love this, of course, seeing him visibly spiral paired with the salty taste of precum already leaking from him. 

The hand not jerking him off comes up to the back of his hip, gently pushing against him in tandem with the movements of your head, encouraging him to shallowly thrust into your mouth.

“Jesus fu-“ he grunts out, not wanting to overestimate your encouragement, but unable to keep his hips from rolling forward slightly with the push of your hands and the bob of your lips. 

After an unexpected snap of his hips that sent his cock sliding into the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, a pang of guilt struck through him for pushing too hard. That was, until you let your head pull back a touch to catch your breath, but a long string of spit connected your lips to his cock, and a wild smile broke across your face that nearly sent him to the moon. 

You dove back in and pushed his cock all the way into the back of your throat, going so far that your nose pressed into the patch of dark curls that sat above his perfect dick. Focusing your breathing through your nose, you make a point to constrict your throat a few times until you feel him twitch inside you.

Pulling off with a gasp for air, you notice his eyebrows pinched together and gaze locked on you. 

“I like how these feel,” you comment, letting your pointed tongue dance around the metal balls on his tip.

He shudders and you clench your thighs at the sight of his stomach muscles tensing up when your tongue makes contact with the underside of his head, right where it meets the shaft. 

“If I let you fuck my mouth until you come, are you still going to be able to give it to me in a bit, or are you a one and done kind of guy?” You ask with a playfully teasing tone, but genuinely want to know if you suck him off to completion if the night will be over or not. 

“Fuck,” he spits out, more blood rushing to his cock at the idea of coming down your throat, “I’d fuck you all night if you’d let me babe.”

Half a second doesn’t pass before his cock is back in your mouth, hips shakily moving forward with your movements, gaining confidence as you flicker your eyes up at him through your lashes, the glimmer in them telling him he can take what he wants. 

“Fuckin’ look at you,” he comments to himself, “takin’ it all.” 

“Mhmmm,” you hum around him letting your tongue roll around his tip each time before he pushes his cock back down your throat. 

“You think you can get away with teasing me like that? That shit you pulled in the van back there, you think it’s cute to try and get me all riled up?”

You nod, tongue out and saliva coating your lips and chin. You could tell he was close by the way his words came out staggered, and his hips started snapping towards you in a new tempo, like his body was chasing it. 

Grunts and moans pulled from his chest fill the space mixed with the hums of satisfaction you let out while you take him deeper and faster. Moving in for the kill, you carefully slip your hand up in between his legs, cupping his balls, trying your best not to startle him. 

“Oh fuck,” it was a pitch of his voice you’d never heard before, a new tone especially reserved for the moments before orgasm, “you’re gonna make me fuckin come, y/n, y/n, I’m…”

The feeling of his balls constricting in your hands cues the warm wash of come sputtering down into your throat.

Getting the feeling he’d appreciate a bit of a show, you continue to jerk him off and pull off his cock slightly, letting the tip balance onto the tip of your tongue and the rest of his load spills out into your open mouth, some landing around the corners and onto your lips. 

“Christ, y/n,” his chest is heaving, his eyes finally pulling from you to squeeze shut for a moment. 

Once you’re sure he’s looking at you again you swallow down the salty white substance and lick the excess off your lips. You take his head back into your mouth, sucking just enough to clean off the tip and lap up any stray drops. He’s sensitive, you can tell, so you stop torturing him and place a final kiss right in between the two metal balls. 

You thought of asking him if the piercing hurt, or maybe make a comment about the two matching tattoos on his hipbones, ink of his you’d never seen until now. Before your brain can jump from swallowing his come to making post-nut chit chat, he’s yanking you up off your feet and wrapping you in a searingly passionate kiss. 

In your past experience most guys wanted you to drink some water or brush your teeth after they came in your mouth, at least before kissing you. Not Eddie. The way his tongue immediately slipped into your mouth, you almost believed he was trying to get a taste for himself. 

“C’mon,” he whispers in between slotting his lips with your, “Bedroom. Now.” 

He takes your hips in his hands and spins you around, causing a surprised yelp to bubble up from you, making him chuckle behind you as he walks you down the hall, keeping his hands on your sides. 

You knew where you were going, there were only so many doors in his tiny trailer, and you’d been here plenty of times before, but you liked the feeling of his hands pushing you forward, guiding your movements and steering you down the hallway into his room. 

Before your knees can hit the bed he spins you back around and captures your lips in another heated kiss. His hands trail up your sides, letting his fingertips slide beneath the hem of your shirt and push it upwards until your ribs were exposed. He pulls away from your face, leaving you leaning back into him, not wanting the kiss to end. 

“Up,” he pinches the sides of your shirt in his hands, and signals with his chin that he wants you to lift your arms, which you comply. 

It slides up and off of you, his hands quickly darting back to unclasp your bra, seemingly without even trying. This makes you roll your eyes, but the realization that you’re bare before him eclipses the thought of making a snippy remark about what a man whore he is. 

Flat palms caress your sides and move up to cup your breasts, his tongue pressing into the side of your neck. 

“These too,” his thumbs dip into your pants, managing to wiggle under the waistband of your panties as well. You’re going to do it yourself, but he gently pushes you back onto the bed, letting you flip back into the unmade blankets. 

“I wanna see you,” he pops your pants button and waits for a nod before sliding your pants and underwear down your legs. 

In between the blowjob and now, he’d tucked himself back into his pants, pulling his boxers and jeans back up, still unbuttoned, but covering him back up as his cock returned to a half hard state, unlikely to stay that way for very long considering how things were going. 

The scene of you now sprawled out onto his bed, naked and needy for him, and him standing above you, basically fully clothed, had a flood of lust traveling south between your thighs.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous,” you burned under his intense gaze, raking down your body and soaking in the image of your skin laid out against his flannel plaid sheets. 

He crawls over you, letting his body melt into yours, the center seam of his jeans pressing against your soaking core, just as it had when he had you pressed up against the door of the bar bathroom.

Rocking gently against you, you feel his cock already starting to harden again. His tongue moves against your neck, hands roaming freely against your skin, arching into his touch. 

His breath was heavy against your lips, he was already starting to lose himself, and he knew he wanted to make you come with his tongue at least once before his dick came back out, but it was already pulsing between his legs, growing rock solid with every little whimper that came past your lips. 

Your fingers intertwined themselves into the tresses of his long, messy hair. You use your new grip to pull his face as close into yours as your bodies will allow, smushing his nose up against your cheek and foreheads plastered together. The weight of his body on yours, and the lovely rocking motion of his hips against yours stopped as he pulled away and hooked his arms under your knees. 

He slides off the side of the bed, feet returning to the carpeted ground and yanking your body to the edge of the mattress. You let out an unexpected giggle, body limp like a rag doll, moving wherever he wanted you. 

He leans back over to give you another deep kiss, teeth dragging against your lower lip and tongue sliding gracefully against yours, before he slides his mouth down, stopping to lap up at your nipples for a moment, not letting any part of your skin go untouched as he takes his time moving down to where you want him most. 

Wiggling around on his mattress, your body is begging him to get on with it, but he loves to make you squirm. He takes his time licking up your hip bones, kissing from the innermost part of your thigh all the way down to your knee, and then back up the other side. He even takes a long moment to suck a dark purple bruise into the meat of your thigh, biting down on the flesh and licking over the skin to soothe it, noticing how your back arched a little when he bit down harder. 

“Please Eddie,” your voice is hardly above a whisper, whimpering and whiny.

“All you had to do was ask nicely,” he has that too-cocky tone again, but it’s long forgotten once his tongue is buried in between your thighs, lapping up the excess of wetness already pooled there.

“Ohhh,” you let out a moan, sucking in a sharp breath and allowing your body to relax under his focused touch. 

His hands push up from your ass to the crooks of your knees, moving your legs back to either side of you, strong palms finding their resting place on the backs of your thighs, keeping your legs spread wide open for him while he buries his face deep in your cunt. 

“You-“ the start of a compliment, or maybe a request, escapes your lips but the sudden harsh suck of your clit into his mouth has you speechless and moaning, “Mhmmmmm, uhhhhhhh.”

The sloppy wet sounds of him making out with your pussy are enough to drive you wild, your hands originally balling his sheets in your fists quickly move to the top of his head, resting atop his mop of messy curls. 

“Y’can give it a tug,” the first half of his statement spoken directly into your pussy, “I don’t mind a little pain.” He shoots you a wink and keeps his eyes locked on you as he lets his tongue lap a fat long lick up your slit, and then leaning back down to encourage you to tangle your hands into his hair. 

Coming to either side of his head you grab two points of purchase, locking your fingers in at the roots and feeling him hum into your cunt when you grabbed it a little tighter. 

Your hips start to quiver, so he brings one hand from your thigh up to your lower stomach, pinning you against the bed, and still keeping you spread open with the other. 

Working a steady rhythm against your slick center with his lips and tongue, he can tell he’s found the spot you like most by your open mouth and tight eyebrows.

“Ohmygod,” your chest starts moving with heavy breaths, you can’t bear to keep yourself up any longer and flop back down flat onto the mattress, eyes screwing shut in pleasure. He lets go of his anchor on your tummy and returns his hands to your thighs, allowing your hips to wiggle and wriggle against his face to chase after your own pleasure. 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” one glimpse of his big brown eyes looking up at you and his nose pressing deliciously into the spot above your clit has your head reeling, “please don’t stop, fuck.”

Rather than reply, he just continues to devour you at that steady pace, your thighs almost snapping shut around his head . 

“Uh huh, right there, oh fuck Eddie I’m gonna-“ 

A strangled moan rips from your throat and your back arches off the mattress, his hands quickly come to wrap around your thighs and keep your center held closely against his face. He’s pulling your hips flush with his face, despite your spasming torso and gushing core. 

As your orgasm peaks, your hips angle themselves to push up deeper into his face, and he uses his leverage against the backs of your thighs to lift your ass, the entire lower half of your body now off the mattress and sliding backwards as he keeps his moving tongue glued to your clit. 

He climbs up onto the mattress as you slide back, the grip he had on your legs was sure to leave a sore memory of him unwilling to let your coming pussy away from his face. 

When he finally pulls away, your hand pushing at his forehead to prevent overstimulation, both of you gasping for air, his knees are propped under your thighs, and your hips are propped up right at perfect level with the bulge in his pants. 

“Fuck me,” you say through catching your breath, not as an expletive but rather a demand, “Eddie, I need you to fuck me,” your voice was whiny and desperate. 

“This okay?” he starts pulling his dick from its constraints in his unbuttoned jeans, not even shoving them halfway down his thighs before he had that pretty pierced dip dragging through your open and ready folds. 

“Yes, inside, please,” you were chasing after his length, while he tossed his shirt off. He teasingly ran it up and down your slit before sinking into you, collapsing down to press your lips into a kiss to swallow your moans as he slid the whole thing in slowly, making sure to take his time and fuck you right. 

He grabbed the back of your neck and pressed his forehead to yours, finally sheathed all the way inside you and stilling for a moment to relish in the feeling. Pulling back so he can watch your face as he pumps his first few thrusts, he knows he’s beyond fucked. 

“So fucking good,” you slur out, eyes almost crossing from how deep his cock was hitting your insides.

“Yeah? This pussy’s god damn perfect, fucking made for me,” he articulates each thought with a snap of his hips, “suckin’ me right in.” 

“Wait, can we,” your voice had a little more weight behind it unlike the airy moans he’d grown obsessed with in the past forty minutes.

He pulls back, and rather than finish your thought you slip him out of you and roll over, shuffling up the bed and positioning yourself face down ass up, knees spread and back arched. 

“You think you can handle it?” he asks jokingly, swatting your ass playfully and then landing a second, harder smack on the flesh when he notices you pussy clench around nothing at the sensation of him spanking you. 

“Want you to fuck me hard,” you mumble into his pillow, wiggling your hips a little bit to jiggle the fat of your ass, “I know your cock is gonna feel so fucking good in me this way, wanna feel that fucking piercing back in my throat from the other direction.”

“Jesus Christ, y/n,” he was genuinely a little shocked at your words, slowly learning that your freak side might match his. 

You expected to feel his cock slam into you once his hands came to spread your ass apart, but instead the mattress dipped and he was licking another fat stripe from your clit all the way up past your second hole, running this back a few times until you were moaning into the pillow and thighs were tensed up from the attention he was giving you.

“Sorry babe, just needed another taste,” he pushed the head of his dick into you, and moved the first few inches agonizingly slow into your soaked hole. 

“Eddie please, need it, need you,” he loved that his sheets were balled up in your fists, using the tension of the material to bounce yourself back onto him. You only manage to slide back down about three quarters before he’s tightly gripping your hip and pulling out half way again. 

“Tsk tsk tsk, you need to learn to be patient, pretty girl,” he’d thrust it an inch of so, and then slowly pull back, making you whine and start to feel tears bubble up in the corners of your eyes. 

“Want it so bad,” your cheek laid flat against his pillow, and you could catch a glimpse of him behind you out of the corner of your eye if you craned your neck a bit. You sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you craved him. 

He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Restrained grunts left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face. 

As his long fingers move your hair away from your eyes, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.

“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”

“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”

His vision practically goes black with this new unrestricted passion, allowing himself to thrust into you as hard and as deep as his hips would propel him, twisting your hair in his grip and pulling you up from your laid position, quickly letting your hands jump to his headboard to support you as your head was pulled back. 

You tried to bounce back onto his cock, wanting to feel him as deeply and wholly as your bodies would allow, but you could hardly keep up with the pace he had set. 

Your ass bouncing against him and the occasional glance he caught at your fucked out expression spurred him on to fuck you even harder. He had your hair pulled back so tight that your back was pressing flush up with his chest every so often, and he took the opportunity to snake an arm around you and hold your chest up flat, his other hand moving down to rub frantic circles on your clit.

“You’re gonna make me come like this,” you manage to croak out, voice hoarse from the harsh bend in your neck. 

“Nuh uhh, no,” his voice was gruff and commanding, right into your ear and sent a shiver down your spine. 

He pulled out of you fully, and had you flipped around flat on your back again before you could even open your mouth to complain. 

“Need to see that pretty face when you come on my cock,” he lines himself up with you again, pushing into you and making a mental note of how the bulge of his cock looked pressing up from the inner part of your lower stomach. 

And of course, your face screwed up in pleasure, puffy lips and sweaty brow, slack jawed and panting his name would be something Eddie wouldn’t be able to forget even if he tried.

His thumb found its way to your clit to pick up where he had last left you, steadily building to an earth shattering orgasm. Talking you through it, knowing you were close by the vice grip your walls had on his dick, in between grunts he spilled out some “good girl”’s and “right fuckin there, that’s it.” 

When he felt your thighs tense up, and the muscles in your neck strain against the soft skin he’d previously had his lips all over, he knew you were nearing the finish line. 

“So fucking perfect, feel so good wrapped around me,” he managed to sweet talk you without altering the pace of his hips, “That’s it, come on my cock, give it to me.”

With that, your body can’t help but throw itself over the edge of pleasure. A deep grunt rattles in your chest, and you lose all sensation other than the wild pulsing in between your legs. You can’t be bothered to worry about what your face looks like, or if your thighs are squeezing him too hard, you only feel the riptide of an orgasm shattering through you. 

The animalistic noise that Eddie grunts out, his wild gaze locked on your face only makes your body shake with pleasure even harder. He had that instinct that most men lacked, to keep the exact pace and motion when your orgasm hit rather than speed up or slow down, it was a gift, a talent. 

Of course he wasn’t going to change a thing about what he was doing, look at you. You were so fucking perfect, shaking and coming all over him, those sweet noises and the beautiful squelching between your thighs. He’d rather die than change a single thing about this moment. 

He stilled only when you paused to catch your breath, and within seconds was flipped over by the power of your thighs onto his back.

Unexpectedly, you began to ride him, trying to match the pace he had earlier set. The aftershocks of your orgasm still washed through you, but you seized the moment to get him right where you wanted him. This angle was different, deeper and more connected. You roll your hips and bring your hands up to his hair, foreheads pressing together once again. 

“You’re making me feel so fucking good,” you manage to breathe out into his lips, he quickly comes to the realization of what’s happened and shifts the angle of his hips to hit you even deeper. 

“I’d give you everything, if you’d let me,” he doesn’t let a single thought pass in his mind before the words slip out, “always.”

Your lips capture his in a kiss that has far more emotion behind it than two friends play-dating and fucking for fun. His hands come up to grasp your cheeks, your hips continue to roll down into his with purpose. 

“I’m- Where-“ his words are hardly intelligible in between breathless kisses, but you know what he means. 

“Inside, please, need all of you inside me,” you try to keep your voice steady so he hears you loud and clear, wanting to give him the exact attention he had paid to you, “Please Eddie, come inside me.”

His hands travel down and guide your hips to fuck down onto him one, two, three times before he’s groaning in your ear and letting out the prettiest and most vulnerable sounds you’ve ever heard form him. 

The swell of his cock inside you makes you drape your head into his neck, focusing on riding out his orgasm and making sure he was twitching in the aftershocks of his orgasm before you let up. 

When you felt his grip on your hips tighten, signaling that he’d had too much, you sink all the way down one final time and let your body lay limp on his, pulsing cock still filling you up. 

His chest rose and fell harshly with his recovering breaths. You could feel his heartbeat pulsing up through the spot on his neck where your ear laid on his sweaty skin.

Silently awaiting the inevitable tap on the shoulder, the slow pull out and post-sex cleanup process, you try to savor every passing moment. But it doesn’t come. Eddie wraps his arms around your midsection and holds your limp body close to his, letting his cock start to soften inside you. 

You nearly fall asleep like that, all wrapped up in him, until you recognize that you should pee and clean up to avoid a UTI. You slip off of him, and hear a disappointed groan from him. He makes cute grabby hands at you as you cross the room, making you roll your eyes, but something deep inside you flip flops with how sweet he’s being, so caring, so unlike the picture of himself that he had painted for you. 

You give him a wet hand towel to clean up the remnants of your activities, and slip back into bed with him per his insistence. You doze off for a while, until the rising sun peeking through his blinds catches your eye, striking you with the sudden decision to stay and face the music or leave and let it settle. 

You’d already regretted it, but weren’t ready to have the “hey, so I know we had fake boyfriend-girlfriend sex, but I actually really like you so what should we do about that?” conversion with him, so instead you take the cowardly path and tiptoe out of his room in the early morning hours, leaving behind your underwear on his nightside table with a scribbled note saying to call you. Hopefully that was enough of a signal. 

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call. 

It was all starting to get to your head. While you had gone through the stages of being nervous that you had done something wrong, that he was avoiding you to spare you the rejection, thinking he regretted what had happened and didn’t want to face you, who was so obviously into him it was painful, you’d just now turned a new leaf. Fuck that. If he was too much of a coward to call you, you'd hope he'd at least give you the decency as a friend to tell you the truth, you deserved to be angry, and you deserved a response. 

After stewing in your feelings for longer than felt healthy, you just get in your car and start driving to his trailer. If this all blew up in your face at least you wouldn’t have to keep biting your nails and waiting for the phone to ring. 

Three deep breaths, and a quick moment to gather your thoughts, and suddenly your body acted on instinct, putting the car in park and walking up to pound three concise knocks on his trailer door. 

“Just a second,” he hollered from inside, giving you a few seconds to be stricken with regret for showing up unannounced without a plan on what exactly to say. 

“What do you- oh, y/n,” he was in a pair of plaid pajama pants that hung low on his hips, shirtless and hair still damp from a recent shower, “uh, hey?”

“Oh, hey,” your tone was laced with annoyance, “I left something here last week and I’m here to get it back. If you don’t mind.”

“What- oh,” he’s a second too slow to realize you mean the underwear you had purposefully left behind with that note. The note telling him to call you. Which he never did. 

You were left standing on his porch steps, arms crossed and shooting daggers out of your eyes while he stood there in the doorway, an apparent guilty expression plastered on his face while he rocked back on his heels to buy some time to figure out what to say. 

“You don’t have to invite me inside, if you can just grab them and give them to me, and I’ll be out of your hair,” you say flatly, recognizing if he does as asked then this might be the last time you speak to Eddie Munson. 

“No, no, uh, you should come in,” he steps aside to let you in, “we probably shouldn’t have this conversation on my front steps.”

Avoiding eye contact, feeling an overwhelming mix of anger, confusion, and betrayal, you step inside and don’t make any effort to move into the space. You just stand by the door and give him an expectant look. Either he could go get the underwear, or he could grow a pair and say something to you. 

“I, uh-“ he looked so defeated you started to feel bad for using such a pointed tone, but then you remembered the days and days that passed without hearing from him, “I’m sorry, that I, y’know…”

“Yeah, well I don’t really care if you’re not looking for any post sex recap conversations, because you’re obviously pretty sure of yourself in that department,” the words flew out before your mind could even conjure them up, “but you fucking promised me that you wouldn’t do this, so can I please just have my underwear back and I won’t bother you again.”

He runs a hand through his hair letting out a deep exhale and searching the ceiling for words, “I know, I-“

You cut him off, your thoughts were ripping through you now and you were going to say your piece whether he asked for it or not, “You said you wouldn’t pull this shit with me, but I guess our friendship isn’t substantial enough for you to see me any differently than you do every other girl you throw away after you’ve gotten what you want. You clearly don’t want any more advice and you clearly don’t want to be my friend, so please, just give me my shit so I can go.”

“That’s the fucking thing y/n, of course I don’t want to be your friend,” his gaze still fixed on the ceiling.

At this point you were seconds away from just storming out, letting him keep your underwear as some twisted little trophy for breaking your heart. 

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

“Being your friend is already hard enough, and I knew this shit was a bad idea, the whole trial-girlfriend thing. But how the fuck was I supposed to say no to that? The girl of my dreams offers to do all this no-strings-attached romantic shit, I’d be the dumbest man alive to turn that down.”

You just give him a blank stare, your scalding anger twisting into a more confused frenzy of bees swarming in the pit of your stomach. Eyebrows pinched together, you just stare at him until he finally makes eye contact with you. 

“And yeah,” he goes on, letting all his words out like a big exhale in the same cadence that you had just hurled all your angry words at his, but his tone was filled with guilt as opposed to rage, “maybe we let it go a little too far, but I would never say no to you, I couldn’t. I’m sorry I didn’t know what the fuck to say to you after, but that’s exactly the reason I’m not good enough for you. The more we kept that fake dating shit up the worse it was gonna get, so I’m sorry, but I can’t keep spending time with you like that, because it’s starting to fucking hurt.”

“Hurt,” you say with a dry laugh, which almost scares him, “YOU’RE hurt? Give me a fucking break Eddie. I know you don’t see me that way. So what, you’re too scared to hurt my feelings? You’re doing a wonderful job, keep it up.”

“What the fuck do you mean, not see you like what?”

“Don’t pretend to be dumb Eddie. When we first met I tried so hard to get your attention, asking you to hang out, and you always blew me off. It’s fine that you don’t want to date me or whatever, but at least just tell me that, don’t fuck me like I’m special or something and then toss me aside. I deserve better than that.”

“Yeah, y/n, you do,” his voice was no longer guilt stricken, and was on the same straightforward plane as your last responses, “you deserve so much fucking better than me, that’s why I could never let anything between us happen. I don’t call girls back. I’m rude. I don’t take care of myself, let alone others. I like to smoke, and drink, and get head from girls in bar bathrooms and never learn their names, and that’s not the kind of person that a girl like you dates. I’m a fun quick fuck. You’re the kind of girl that after three dates he’ll already have a ring picked out. You’re everything, and I’m nothing, so forgive me for sparing you of that.”

Your bones are frozen and the beat of silence gives him the opportunity to spin on his heel and start down the hallway, presumably to get your panties. 

Snapping back into it, you let out a louder than expected, “Hey,” and you start following him, not taking long to catch up to him in his bedroom. 

“You,” you point a finger at him, and start to feel the rage bubble up again, “don’t get to decide that you’re unloveable. And you don’t get to tell me what kind of girl I am. Have you ever considered that maybe the reason you’re so lonely and miserable is because you choose to be? You don’t get to decide what I deserve, I do. And I really fucking like you Eddie, so forgive me for acting like it.” 

You snatch your underwear off his bedside table, and give him a look, not fueled by anger or resentment, but empathy. 

“I’m going to leave. And if you don’t want to see me again, that’s fine, but if you do, you can call me. Goodbye Eddie.”

You feel out of your own body, floating above it all and rewinding the conversation over and over, body on autopilot taking you home while your soul stayed behind and relived his words over and over, unsure if you feel better or worse than when you showed up. 

Days pass by again, and you take his silence as more of a response than anything he had said to you during that conversation. You try not to wallow, but you feel scattered and distraught, at both the prospect of losing Eddie and having to deal with your shared friends, would they allow you to dance around each other, or would they flat out choose him and shut you out? Would group nights out bowling suddenly just turn into the occasional one-on-one coffee with Robin? 

Until suddenly, on a random Tuesday afternoon when you've gotten home from work and are relaxing on the couch in your pajamas, three knocks are at your door.

At this point you figured it was over. He hadn't called and he'd made no effort to continue the dialogue. So a thought of Eddie doesn't even cross your mind in between the couch and opening the door.

And there he is.

In a suit, slightly descheveld in Eddie fashion, and holding a slightly wilting bouquet of flowers. Posture straight and brave face, but expecting your brutal edge upon answering the door nonetheless.

"Hey?" you're somewhat at a loss for words answering.

"Hi," he seems like he's running lines of a play in his mind, "I was hoping we could talk."

You reluctantly let him in, and he hands the flowers to you, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to bring you such a gift.

"First off," he starts, hardly breaching your living room entrance before starting his apology, "I regret the way we last left things, and I'm sorry for leaving you waiting for a response."

He flicks those big brown eyes at you and you can't help but give him the benefit of the doubt, he always was so sincere with his words.

"You're amazing. And although I'll remain adamant that I don't deserve someone like you in my life, I've been thinking a lot about what you said, and I'm sorry that tried to tell you how to feel."

You remain stoic at your seat on the couch, watching him shift his weight and bare his soul to you.

"You're perfect. Nice, funny, sexy, brave, all of it. And if you're willing to give me a chance, I don't know why the fuck you would, but if you are, I want to put aside all my bullshit and try this out, if you'll have me."

He stood there for a moment, letting you take in his request, bouquet in hand and suit adorned.

"And I owe you a few dates, for real."

As hard as you want your exterior to be, a smile cracks through.

"Okay, but know I don't fuck until the third date, at best," you jab, breaking his nervous exterior and visibly relieving the tension from his shoulders.

"I'm somewhat of a refined gentleman myself, so that won't be an issue," he bows and extends a hand to you.

You pull him down by the hand onto the couch with you, wrapping him up in a deep kiss. He was worth it, and you both knew it was worth the shot to try.

[whichcouldmeannothing]

big big marvey fic rec list

marvey is currently my most bookmarked ship, so trust me when i say i've been around the bend for marvey content. i have dug through a lot of it the past few months, so trust that these fics have been highly rated!

fics are loosely grouped, with the summary and my thoughts under the cut :3 no spoilers ofc bc i love you

MY PERSONAL FAVOURITES

A Specter-Ross Affair by @frivoloussuits (15k+, au)

“You ordered an ‘extra-hot, extra-wet cappuccino, single-origin, properly layered, to-go and ready five minutes ago to make up for your service speed or lack thereof.’” In which Mike is a barista, Rachel is a lawyer, and Harvey is paid excessive amounts of money to plan their joyous Christmas wedding.

"Love is just a particularly socially accepted form of fraud. It's a series of increasingly complex and fragile deceptions between two or more people, and, more alarmingly, between each participant and their own deluded subconscious."

i literally cannot recommend this fic enough. this might be my favourite read of the entire year, dead serious. this sounds fluffy but trust me, the pining and the angst go well like salt on a chocolate chip cookie: extremely decadent. everything about this fic goes insane and this should be your gateway drug into marvey, im so serious about this. READ IT. (weddingplanner!harvey)

of all the gin joints by @frivoloussuits (10k+, au)

Hanging around a neighborhood bar one night, Harvey befriends a guy named Mike after realizing they can both quote The Princess Bride on demand. In the law offices of Rand, Kaldor, Zane and Pearson, senior partner Harvey Specter takes on an unusual case, representing his managing partner's daughter as she divorces a Michael James Ross. Harvey sees no connection until it's far too late.

"They’re playing a virtuosic duet with inhuman ease, as if the intoxication has broken their boundaries and blurred them into a single entity."

this. obsessed with fics that really use the law in their plots, and this is a prime example. a lot of chemistry in this one that is described in a way that makes you jealous of the bond they share and there are still lines in this fic that i think about almost everyday but honestly, such a top-tier read. PLEASE PLEASE IF YOU LIKE SUFFERING ANF REALLY REALLY GOOD CHEMISTRY PLEASE

5U175 by Closer (26k, canon-adjacent)

Harvey sometimes moonlights as a Star Trek BNF. Mike might have an attitude problem on the internet. TiberiusGhost is strangely compelling, for a recluse who never goes to meetups, and Harvey's finding this kid Photohead vaguely familiar…

i know that the terminology in this one is hella old-school but trust me. as someone who doesnt read a lot of fandom fics, this fic has changed it all for me (also bc the author replied to my comment hehehe) stick with this fic because the way fandom weaves with the character development is absolutely delicious, i remember saying this in my og comment but this fic was written with love for fandom and you should definitely read it too!!! you'd absolutely love it! (also ben stans rise up ^^)

fics to sink your teeth into (20k+)

needs must by @melthemagpie (98k+, au)

When Grammy needs an upgrade in care, Mike knows that the usual one-off gig as a paid submissive won't be enough. He takes a job he's been refusing for a while - a long-term, full-time contract. He expects his client to be a sadistic asshole. He expects not to like it. He's wrong on both counts.

this is a fandom classic, every fic rec has this on the list (cw for dom/sub and prostitution, so if you're uncomfy please dont read) but i swear there are so many romantic moments in this one that make me swoon and the smut is very good, i usually tap out in long fics really quickly but this hooked me the whole way through twice. thats my ringing endorsement, READ THIS

Lobster and Other Catastrophes by @andthetardis (21k, canon-compliant)

After months of silence, Mike starts texting Harvey again out of the blue. Funny thing to do on his honeymoon, really.

BRO PLEASE. this was so good. angsty and pining-y enough even though it's mostly a text fic. text fics to me are more like comedic, but this one had substance and heart (and funny and enjoyable btw). pulls you in and really makes you want to stick it out and get to the beautiful ending <333 (harvey being soft is probably a category on its own :3)

The Game by @frivoloussuits (27k, hunger games au)

Harvey Specter and Donna Paulsen are efficient and elegant killers. They have trained since childhood, mentored personally by Jessica Pearson and marked for years as District 1's Tributes for the Hunger Games. Mike Ross is an orphan from District 12, a drug dealer, and an underage gambler. After years of scrutinizing the Hunger Games on TV to make savvy bets, he finds himself on the wrong side of the camera, now playing the odds just to survive. Harvey and Mike cannot, should not trust each other. Still, they strike a backroom deal.

"Because he’s clever and quick-thinking and he’s learned her main lesson well– don’t love anyone you wouldn’t be willing to see dead. Ideally, don’t love anyone at all."

I READ THIS WHEN I WAS REVISITING HUNGER GAMES AND OHHHHH THIS HAS THE ANGST. absolutely riveting. ths is the third fic im reccing from them bc i love frivoloussuits. i would die for them HHFSHFHKSDGDHFG i love the angst and the life-threatening situations that the hunger games provide and harvey as a career is correct. its just correct. everything here grips my soul

Disaster Stories by agatestones (22k, canon-compliant)

"Hold on," Mike asked, "you made Donna come into work in the middle of a blizzard?" "I don't make Donna do anything. Haven't you learned by now?" Harvey gave Mike a mean little smile, but under that was relief for anyone to see. "You, I can make come into the office in a blizzard."

reads like a novella to me, and it's really good!!! very episodic and you really feel like these are things that have happened in universe. its very slice of lifey and i reread it a lot as a comfort read, its like a big hug to me

Pizza and a Movie by Closer (30k+, au)

In an alternate universe, Harvey's still a lawyer but Mike's not a pot runner -- he's a deliveryman for Rollo's Pizza and Ribs, which happens to be Harvey's favorite pizza place. Once Harvey finds out his pizza guy is a genius, Mike's life takes a few turns he would not have expected...

i swear this is the most rom-commy fic marvey has to offer. i like aus that slap me in the face more with the alternate universe, but this is such a rom-com plot. fandom classic as well and it really reads like a hugh grant 90s movie and if thats not enough to pull you in idk what will tbh

Imprimatur by Closer (22k, au)

Mike was raised to believe Imprint was a life-changing event for those few lucky enough to experience it. Harvey was raised to believe it was a form of mental illness. When it actually happened, neither of them noticed.

this goes absolutely crazy. one of those fics where you read it and you almost want to throw your phone at the wall because the characters could make it so easy if they werent so stupid (but in a good way of course) but the way it was written, you feel the depth of the soulmate bond and why its so important (which a lot of soulmate aus forget to do loll) but goes down like an expensive and delicious dinner :)

afternoon reads (10k+)

Sony SRF-39FP by @frivoloussuits (11k+, canon-adjacent)

Anita Gibbs won’t settle for Mike, not when there are name partners within her reach. She offers only one deal– two years, no other charges against anyone else in the firm, as long as Harvey Specter turns himself in. And even as Donna and Jessica and Louis and Mike beg him not to, he jumps on the grenade. “Time to get busy living or get busy dying,” he remarks, and Mike gives a small chuckle. Then Harvey smirks, straightens his suit jacket, and strides into FCI Danbury.

“I can’t believe they’re trying to lock you in a box and forget about you,” Mike sighs as he leaves.

“Well, as long as you don’t forget me, I figure I’ll survive.”

“Maybe you haven’t noticed, but forgetting’s never been my strong suit.

cw for depersonalization and desc of solitary confinement, very very heavy but the way mike is there throughout everything makes my heart twinge. i really dont know how to describe this fic at all but its really good. it makes me cry a lot. also made me start listening to jazz which- uh

Here at the end of all things by @tattooedsiren (10k, au)

When he arrives at the Pearson Hardman building the lights are dimmed and the floor is deserted. His feet carry him to Harvey's office even though he expects it to be empty. Because Harvey probably fled the city via helicopter or teleporter or sheer force of will. But when he approaches the office he can see that Harvey is there. He has moved the couch so that it now faces the floor to ceiling windows and Mike silently sits beside Harvey, joins him in looking down at the chaos engulfing the city below. [Apocalypse AU]

I LOVE APOCALYPSE FICS UP UP UP badass!harvey makes me bark, but im a really big fan of people who find happiness in the worst circumstances and this fic does it so so so well. reminds me a lot of tlou episode like 2? the one with the strawberries. please this is what i revisit when i miss marvey and i dont have a lot of time because the world and the characters are jsut so delicious!!!

quick reads (1k+)

This Love is Silent by kim47 (8k, canon-compliant)

She should have known. She had known, that something was off, at least. She knew he was hiding something. She just never imagined it could be this. Despite Harvey's warnings, Mike tells Rachel the truth about everything. She's shocked, naturally, and more than a little angry, but she agrees to keep his secret, and even to date him. So when they break up, Harvey goes into damage-control mode.

RACHEL!! HELLO RACHEL!! im always up for smart and discerning rachel (this shows up in of all the gin joints too btw!!!) this runs realistic to me because it shows that rachelxmike arent some hopelessly wrong for each other couple, they have good and bad times. this feels more real to me than other fics bc its not like the world conspires for marvey to be apart, its just life. i know this makes it sound so sad, and it is, but trust me: this is really really really good i love this so much

an archive of harvey specter's expressions by @frivoloussuits (2k, canon-compliant)

Five old expressions that Mike rediscovers in new contexts once he and Harvey are (finally) together, and one that he sees for the first time. Alternatively titled “An Ode to Gabriel Macht’s Face.”

this was written for me. this is literally me. writing fic because gabriel macht is too pretty, like this fic is literally for me. a lot of peering at him to get this fic as masterfully written as it is, and i thank you author everyday for it. to me, this reads like it's been written with love and care and true adoration (Truly, like Mike)

Coffee-Cart Client Privilege by @frivoloussuits (7k, au)

Mike runs a coffee cart. The coffee cart.

"Why not? They're too big and dense to be a snack." So are you, Mike thinks, and yet.

IM SORRY I KEEP RECCING FRIVOLOUS SUITS THEYRE MY FAVOURITE WRITER IN THIS FANDOM HFBKABFDKHFBHKDSA this has the hand-wavy logic the show has itself but mike's internal monologue in this one is one of the best ive ever read and the way mike's integrated in the offices is just so well-done ahhhh

Objection by yeah its frivoloussuits again i feel bad tagging them like 7 times (2k, canon-adjacent)

When Mike announces he’s leaving, Harvey plans to hide the jagged pieces of his broken heart deep inside, where no one will ever find them. His heart would like to object.

BIGG fan of physical hurt/comfort!!!! also big fan of people absolutely freaking out in the hospital in fics, it makes me bounce of the wall!! very short but the angst and love really hits you quick and leaves you on the floor gasping for air. very good (also cant prove this but im very sure this is a scrubs reference.t hanks)

Excerpts From The Gospel of Harvey Specter, edited by Michael "Forever Awesome" Ross, 2011, 1st Ed, by @rcmclachlan (7k, canon compliant)

Mike can totally read people. Well, most people. Some people. Or maybe just Harvey, who's pretty much an open book.

this one's really funny! it doesent follow direct prose and instead plays a lot with the setting its in (where mike's a documenter of harvey) and its just so funny and adorable. has a lot of heart too, it isn't just crack or anything but you really feel everything mike does as he writes all this, read this!!1

One More Sleepless Night by @sal_si_puedes (9k, au)

Soul Bonds are one-sided – there’s usually mutual affection, but only one party feels the crippling need to be together as often as possible. If separated at length from their love, that party becomes crushed by longing, panic, and sheer hopelessness, and so it is illegal to forcibly keep Soulmates apart. Some days, Harvey Specter hates the Bond that skews his judgement and weakens his resolve, and he fears what would happen if anyone in his world ever discovers he is so compromised. He certainly never planned to disclose the Bond for the first time in the middle of Anita Gibbs’ office, in a last-ditch attempt to invalidate the deal sending Mike to prison.

HSDGFHSDKGHRLKGHK THIS FIC. i love fics that use more than just prose to tell their stories (see above fic) and this does my favourite thing that soulmate aus do, which is where they integrate in-universe explanations for the phenomenon. the amount of work and dedication put into this fic makes it absolutely sing and was absolutely lovely!!

also pspspsps

golden like the daffodils by @mini-mart (2k, canon-compliant)

Poetry holds meaning, for anyone who reads it. It obscures and dances around the literal and metaphorical, because it’s imbued with so much of something that it overflows out of any definition. It can make someone mad, or lovesick, or aroused, and the reactions would be absolutely warranted. Mike is poetry, to Harvey. - Harvey Specter could be a good politician, as he believes in pragmatism over poetry. He won't let his progress fall apart, won't let someone knock it down. And then someone unceremoniously cracks open a suitcase at his feet. Or: Harvey, pretty boys and poetry.

yeah yeah i wrote this yeah yeah self promo smth smth

there's a lot more that isn't here but i'll probably write a new one when i go for a deep dive through the ship tags again :3

^^ ao3 etiqutte applies! if you like the fic, kudos and comment and bookmark!! show your love! happy reading marveys! my gift to u :3

[mournings-stars]

so lute and velvette… opinions on what they would like to receive as gifts? 👀

OHHH OK i got carried away and did how theyd react to gifts but trust i followed the prompt at first

so lute doesn’t like gifts (this is a lie). if you get her anything she’ll just throw it away (she will treasure that shit til the day she dies). just dont get her a work-related gift and she’ll love it forever

velvette on the other hand loves gifts — she expects them and you know it’d be a death wish to get her anything related to her work — even if its shallow, she’d rather have that because something work related feels undermining

say you get lute flowers? she’ll appreciate them in private because no one ever gets her anything, and she doesn’t know when she’ll get a spontaneous “they made me think of you” gift again

get velvette flowers? that woman is expecting flowers with every gift you give her because flowers can’t be a gift again silly, now they’re just common courtesy

but don’t worry, velvette is gushing about you all over social media because you meet her expectations so well — she posts things like “never settle for less” and its more and more every time

lute is discreet about her fawning. rather than broadcasting her appreciation, she’ll find herself staring at the flowers she’s been keeping healthy with fresh trims and water whenever it was needed and thinking she should probably do something to show her gratitude — so that you weren’t just giving her something unwarranted ofc. not because she wanted you to start giving each other gifts

of course that would be exactly what happens

i don’t think velvette would put too much effort into getting you a gift, like shes not thinking about what you might like in return or anything, but if she sees something you’ll like?? (and she knows what you like) best believe she’s getting that no mater the price

and vel is not the type to take off price tags. not because she wants you to feel bad about her spending so much money, but because she wants you and everyone else to know that she’s going to do everything possible to keep you happy, so that price tag going on her story with a casual “anything for my baby”, is 1000% percent a threat to the world

i have half a mind to think she makes sure to buy you the most obscenely expensive things when you’re not there to object and tells you it was final sale, but “it’s okay, love, we’ll go and get you something else, yeah?” and thats how she gets you because she knows you love her gifts, and she will be getting you more

with lute, you’d definitely be the one buying things on a whim. however, she would make you return things that were too pricey, only to find something she’d want to get you — conveniently she’d forget to check the tag, or she’ll talk to the shop owner until she got the price down

“what about this?” she’d ask when she saw something she wanted to get you, and you’d have to ask her whether it was for you her her. she’d lie, obviously, and end up finding a way to give it to you in the future

lute would also tell you not to get her anything then be walking with adam down the promenade and tell you to “catch” as she tossed you something she got for you

and that girl is 100% watching to see you fawn over it, smiling when she sees how excited you are only to be pulled out of it by you coming back to give her something in return because you just knew if she told you not to get anything, that meant she got you something. like it’s basically a competition at this point and she counts that as a loss — and lute does not lose

velvette, on the other hand? not a competition; she’s winning either way. she has a partner who gets her gifts that meet her expectations, and she has a partner she can give gifts that meet her expectations

but lute’s competitiveness about gifts is hot so who’s really winning…

[thisapplepielife]

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Got You Good, Kid

Day #15 - Let's Talk About That | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language, Smoking, Mentions of Unplanned Pregnancy, Eddie Being a Bit Lot of a Dick | POV: Gareth | Pairing: Gareth/OFC (Off-Screen), Background Steddie | Tags: Modern Day Setting, Road Manager Steve Harrington, Eddie and Gareth are BFFs, But Gareth's Keeping Secrets, So They're Fighting, Fucking Interviewers, Fucking Paparazzi, Fucking Eddie

Gareth adjusts the mic on his collar. Beside him, Eddie's fidgeting, Jeff is texting and Goodie's head is tipped back like he's sleeping or counting the ceiling tiles. 

It's the usual press junket. The same ten questions they all answer, over and over again. It's a goddamn bore. 

"One more question," the journalist says. 

She turns her iPad towards them. It's a picture of Gareth, standing on a sidewalk, a lit cigarette in his hand.

Yeah, he smokes when he's stressed sometimes, sue him. 

"Any comment?" 

Eddie leans forward, looking more closely, "Yeah. Don't smoke, kids."

Everybody laughs, and Gareth thinks that's it, until the reporter swipes to the left and another picture fills the screen. Eddie's not looking at the screen anymore. Now, Eddie's looking at Gareth.

Steve comes in out of fucking nowhere, "No comment. We're done here."

And they are. The room is cleared, and they make a quiet trip back to the hotel. 

Only after the door closes, does Eddie wheel on him.

"What the fuck is going on? Did you get a girl pregnant, and what? Just not tell any of us?" 

Gareth quickly looks at Steve, and Eddie doesn't miss the flick of his eyes.

"Oh, you're fucking kidding me. Steve knew? Before me?" 

And Gareth can't really determine if Eddie's mad that he's gonna be a dad or that Steve knew before he did. 

"He's Steve. He manages everything. I was waiting until the tour was over to tell you."

"Are you with her?" Eddie asks. "Is this why you've been bailing on us?"

"We're taking it slow," Gareth answers. He likes her. Could love her. But they agreed to focus on this first.

"Yeah, looks real slow to me."

"And I haven't bailed. I haven't missed shit."

"Eddie," Steve says, trying to rein Eddie in before he's too revved up.

Too late.

"How goddamn stupid are you? She got you good, kid."

Gareth clenches his fists, instantly mad, because that's not true. Not at all. He doesn't think this was some scheme to baby trap him and milk him for money. Corroded Coffin is famous, but they aren't so rich and famous that he'd be a mark for that kind of plotting. 

He had a one night stand, and she got pregnant. She told him. They made the decision together to proceed.

"That's not fucking true. The condom didn't work." 

"That's convenient. She probably poked holes in it."

"Well, it was mine, so..."

Eddie just stares at him, before finally saying, "Mark my words, because you're definitely getting an 'I told you so' when you're nothing but a checkbook and never see this kid."

"Eddie," Steve warns, and Eddie turns on him.

"And you? Not telling me."

"It wasn't for me to tell," Steve says, calmly. Because Eddie can't ruffle Steve's feathers, not like he can Gareth's. Steve won't allow it. There's no steamrolling of Steve Harrington by Eddie Munson.

"She looks like she's about ready to pop! How long have you known?" Eddie demands. 

Gareth's known for months. He just didn't know how to tell Eddie, because Eddie would be worried about the tour, the album, and everything else that affects Eddie. 

Gareth knows Eddie loves him, but Eddie still thinks he's a kid that needs tending to, even if that hasn't been true in years. 

"A while."

"Where does this girl even live?"

"She's a woman. We're both over thirty, yet you're acting like I preyed on a groupie."

Steve interjects, "I'm in contact with her dad, he's a lawyer. We're getting the parenting plan hammered out so Gareth can co-parent."

"Co-parent a kid from where?" Eddie repeats.

"Omaha."

"Omaha. That's great. Convenient for us all." 

"Well, it's centrally located," Steve offers. They both ignore him.

"She probably sold those pictures. No paps were in fucking Omaha."

"I think it was probably a fan…" Steve trails off, trying to bring reason to an unreasonable fight.

"I don't know what you want me to do, Eddie. I can't unring this bell."

And, honestly, he doesn't want to.

"You were smoking near her. Good job, dad."

"Did you see her when I was smoking? Fucking no. Because she wasn't there yet. Goddamn. You judgmental asshole."

Eddie huffs dramatically, "This is a fucking mess. If Steve wants to help, that's fine. But I'm not."

Gareth nods as Eddie storms off, and he'll come around. Gareth can't have a kid Eddie won't have anything to do with.

This'll blow over. It has to.

But Eddie's still mad. Weeks later. After the show, Steve's waiting with a smile, "You're having a baby. Wheels up in an hour."

"Oh shit," Gareth says, "too early?"

"No," Steve says, "just unwilling to consult the tour schedule. Already rude, just like you."

Gareth laughs, and runs towards the dressing room to shower. He passes Eddie without a word, but tells Jeff and Goodie the news.

Eddie pretends he doesn't hear, and Gareth can't dwell on the fact that he's losing his best friend. Has maybe already lost him. 

His daughter is coming, no matter how Eddie feels.

And an hour later, when Gareth is climbing the stairs of the borrowed private plane, Steve is the one behind him. Jeff and Goodie, already on board. 

The plane is crawling across the tarmac, when Goodie speaks, "Hey, wait, there's Eddie."

Sure enough, Eddie's on one of those little carts, being shuttled by airport staff, arms waving.

They must radio for the pilot to stop, and Eddie eventually slides into the seat next to Gareth.

"So, we're having a baby," Eddie says, and that's enough of an apology for now, because he needs Eddie.

There's a beat, and then Eddie asks, "Are you sure it's yours? You've never been early a day in your life."

Gareth laughs, "I'm sure. She must get that from her mom."

Eddie smiles, "We're having a girl?"

Gareth nods.

Eddie leans over and kisses Gareth's head, "Sorry, I'm late."

It's okay. Gareth thinks he's right on time.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

Notes: Lord, I think one was edited and changed and fiddled with the most to stay at 1000 words but say everything I wanted to say. Take away ten, add twenty-seven. Rinse, repeat. There was a whole flash-forward at the end that just had to go for word count reasons. But just know. It works out, for all of them. ❤️

[r3starttt]

MODERN! GF! ELLIE

She sucks at flirting, like…. bad bad. Before you started dating she couldn’t find any way to approach to you without getting all nervous and shit, she would try talk to you but couldn’t hold eye contact, she would be fidgeting with her fingers, staring at everything and everyone but you and being awkward af. Mostly doing small talk but thats how she got you lol

Also, she would try to find a way to know if you like girls. She would do anything but ask you directly, she would be looking on your social media like crazy because it doesn’t matter if you look gay af she believes that stereotypes and stuff are not trustful. Also would hint you that she’s into girls in all possible ways, anything but say it out loud.

Always wearing her converse, always. It doesn’t matter how much you insist on buying new ones or how hard you try to convince her on changing them, she won’t.

Definitely an iPad kid. Even though she doesn’t have much social media or doesn’t use it a lot she would always have her phone with her and would a hundred percent eat while watching streamers or random gameplays.

Adores minecraft and Fortnite ofc, she owns a xbox and loves it more than anything else. Also, absolutely wants to become a streamer but ofc no one lets her or supports the idea.

Sucks at texting, no one ever understands what she’s trying to say. She sends tons of messages, whether is her correcting the misspellings or just writing word by word or small sentences to tell whatever she’s trynna say.

Loves gossip, adores it, loves sending you messages and audios about it and will definitely call you randomly just for it.

Absolutely does sexting, a lot. She gets super horny at the most random times by the most random things. Also she sends you tons of pics of her without you asking but ofc you send pics back and she always saves them.

Has a backpack that takes everywhere and is full of pins (as any other bag she owns) also very crusty.

Loves teasing you, whether she’s just bothering you, telling you her dad jokes or even trying to make you horny (because she’s already needy lol) but she’ll always find a way to tease you.

Has a million sketchbooks that never gets to finish because she lost them randomly and forgets where they are. Also, draws you a lot.

Her Instagram is empty but definitely has a highlight just for you. She refuses to download tik tok too, until you beg her to because all the reels she sends you went viral months ago on tik tok and also because you want her to see all the tik toks you send her.

Leaves everyone on read, including you. If you get mad at it she would only answer with a 👍.

Loves pinterest and spotify, helps her with the inspo and also likes them bcs it’s social media where you don’t need to interact with people so it’s perfect for her. However she still prefers any other free app to listen to music because hates spending money on it.

Ken and Barbie guitar scene, all the time. She knows you hate being there for hours only listening to her playing the guitar but also knows how much you adore to have full perfect view of her hands and her tattoo :)

Slaps your ass all the time.

Adores legos, she would ask you shyly to have dates just to so you can help her do her lego or would call you so you can see her. So cute.

Is very very cheesy and romantic and dumb whenever she’s alone with you. Likes pet names secretly but won’t confess it because she makes fun of couples that are romantic in public because they’re cringy so she won’t ever admit how much she likes to be like those couples with you.

Likes matching outfits, again, secretly.

Loves messy make out sessions. Hates how your lipstick-gloss spreads all over her lips when you two kiss but loves the taste and loves your face so it doesn’t really matter. I repeat, she loves your ass, so eventually her hands get all over your body and this make out sessions would end in having messy sex.

Loves cuddling, probably small spoon. Also likes resting on top of you and you resting on top of her. Loves the intimacy of it, loves the warm and the calm.

She takes many pictures of you, every time you’re together she ends up with tons of pics of you two (just because you ask her to) but mostly pictures of you.

Has a minecraft world for you too where you two have millions of cats and parrots. She does the scary things while you pick the flowers and decorate the house (she insisted even though she gets freaked out at those random sounds at the caves). She gets killed a lot too.

Most dates at her house would end in her sleeping because movie is boring or she playing w random game and bothering you a lot with “this one’s for you babe” comments (she always loses) and always asking you to watch her play, showing you proudly whatever random trophy she won or what she just bought in the game. Also screams a lot and loves bothering kids.

[archangeldyke-all]

I know Sevika has her way with cards in a gambling sense but how about being a tarot card reader. It’s a shady business ofc but she’s just genuinely super good at reading people and bulshitting her way into people’s heads. She’d definitely pull the lovers card to get reader to go out with them. Oh and she’s HELLA charming, instead of scamming reader to buy some shit she’s “scamming” reader into going on a date with her.

this is SO cutelas;djf;laskdjf

men and minors dni

the markets of zaun are a wild place. whether you need a mercenary, exotic fruit, poisonous animals, or supernatural powers: you can find it all in the filthy, crowded, markets.

sevika learned at a young age that the key to surviving zaun was all about marketability. nobody in the under-city gives a fuck if someone;s fat or skinny, but they'd take interest in hearing that someone'd make a good bouncer or could fit in the tight spaces in the mine shafts.

nobody's going to pay an artist to paint-- but they might pay them to tattoo their skull or draw a caricature of them.

sevika's always known she's good at reading people: she just never knew how she could sell that to someone.

and then she discovered tarot cards.

within a month of her getting her first deck, she'd made enough money scamming people to buy her own storefront in the markets.

and now, she's running an incredibly lucrative business.

despite the fact that her store is decorated with various silky fabrics and crystal columns, despite the astrology posters on the walls and the candles and insence always burning: sevika uses no psychic powers in her readings.

it's mostly bullshit. occasionally, the 'official meanings' of the cards will line up with what she says, but she mostly just says what she knows her customers want to hear. (and sometimes what they need to hear.)

it's easy. the customer comes in, sevika takes one hard, good look at them, and nine times out of ten, she's able to figure out what they're hoping to hear.

then, once she gets them talking and gets the details out-- she's able to bullshit some pretty accurate guesses about their lives, just to convince them they're in the presence of a 'true psychic.'

some people need encouragement-- to quit their jobs or to ask someone out. some people need a 'sign'-- that their deceased love one is protecting them, that things will be okay. some people just want an answer, stuck on a pointless question and unable to move on until they get closure. sevika's happy to supply. especially for how much they're paying her.

you work at the exotic pet store a few shops down from sevika's.

you're the only one who can see through her bullshit.

she's in love with you.

each day, around one in the afternoon, she takes a smoke break at the little table in front of her shop, waiting for you to walk by on your way to lunch.

each time, you smile at her, roll your eyes, and ask, "scammed anymore innocent believers today sev?"

"made three hundred bucks since we opened." she boasts. "want me to take you to dinner with the earnings?" she asks. you laugh and flip her off, continuing your walk.

sometimes she'll come visit you when her days are slow. if you're not busy, she'll 'give you a reading' at the counter of the shop, whispering so neither of you alert your manager that you're not working.

she has to shuffle and organize them before she comes in, because each and every time she's 'giving you a reading' she pulls the lovers, and grins at you. "looks like you've got a blossoming love interest." she says. you snort and roll your eyes.

"oh, do i? pull another, tell me what they're like."

sevika grins, pulling three more cards. "oh. i'm seeing here that she's... tall... strong... hmm... definitely rich..." she says. you snort, and sevika peeks one eye open at you. "half ponytail... her name starts with an 's' sound... ssssarah?" she tries. "no... that's not right..." she blinks at you for help, and you burst into laughter.

"get out of here, my manager's gonna be back from lunch soon." you say. sevika blows a kiss at you on her way out.

you can't deny that she's charming. you understand why so many gullible customers trust her with their lives. you watch her walk back toward her shop through the window, biting your lip as you watch her ass sway.

she finally asks you out after a few months of you guys flirting.

all day, you have people coming into your shop, finding you, and handing you flowers. each time you ask them why, they shrug, simply saying that their psychic told them to give flowers to the 'closest beautiful woman' they could find.

most of them assume that you're going to fall in love with them the second they hand you the bundle of flowers-- not knowing that their psychic is using them and their desperation for love to secondhand hit on you. you just thank them, smiling sweetly before letting them down gently, encouraging them to try the next girl they see.

you're exhausted by the end of the night, and about ready to strangle sevika.

but as you leave you bump into her. at the sight of her, all your frustrations from the annoying little prank she pulled melt away.

she's in a fancy suit, her hair neatly combed behind her ears, her eyes nervous-- darting around and never quite meeting your eye. she holds no tarot cards, only a single red rose that she thrusts into your chest the second she sees you.

you stare sweetly down at the rose, sighing softly before speaking. "you're so fucking annoying." you say, warmly. sevika chuckles nervously.

"do you want to go on a date with me?" she asks. you smirk, looking up from the rose to admire her.

"well, i should probably ask my tarot reader-- i trust her with my life." you say. sevika grins, reaches behind her, then pulls the lovers card from somewhere behind her back. you burst into laughter.

"the cards say yes." she says. you roll your eyes, reaching out to smack her shoulder, melting a bit at the sweet smile she shoots you. "...so?" she asks.

"fine." you say, giggling. "i guess i can't go against the cards, huh?" you ask.

sevika just grins, swooping in to kiss you.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @ellabslut @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai

[crypticcowboys]

hi there, i absolutely love your writing! please may i request some general headcanons for mike x gn!reader where both he and the reader are autistic? i’m glad to see that someone else headcanons him as such :D i hope that’s not too vague!!

a/n: thank you for being my first ask :3! and ofc it's not too vague! this is going to be focused more on mike's traits and basically his interactions with you. this was also lowkey self indulgent. i actually really enjoyed writing this so i think i might make another one of these focusing just on him@))@ pairing: autistic/audhd!mike schmidt x autistic!gn!reader headcanons, also autistic abby (the entire family is autistic) warnings: brief mention of autistic meltdown, otherwise fluff. wc: 836 (i ran out of ideas.)

not proofread i wrote this while high

mike schmidt didn't find out that he was autistic until a lot later into his adult life-- only knowing that he had adhd. he always knew that abby was autistic, she had been diagnosed earlier into her life. but him? he never gave second thought to it. of course, he felt disconnected in a sense to the rest of the world. he was there, but he felt like nobody truly clicked nor resonated with him besides abby. of course, until he met you.

to say that mike was truly comfortable with you was an understatement. he didn't feel forced to make eye contact with you, and of course, ended up feeling comfortable enough with you to make full-on eye-contact... each and every time.

i feel like mike's love languages are definitely quality time and physical contact. he enjoys sitting in a room with you as a sort-of body double-- you two don't have to talk at all for him to have a good time with you. he enjoys being close to you, or being in a room with you, the both of you engaging in anything that you'd like. as for the physical touch part, he always needs to be connected with you in some way. in public, he's behind you, interlinking your arms or your hands together and giving you a soft squeeze. or when you're both in bed, and you two can actually fully hold eachother, this man needs pressure. he needs to feel like he's being pressed by a hydraulic press. either lay on-top of him or squeeze him from behind whilst he's the little spoon-he's in heaven.

mike definitely loves the sound of your voice. when you're talking he's pretty much giving you his full attention, even if he's not looking directly at you, or doing something else. he won't mind if you ramble about your special interest or your hyperfixation, he'll listen and ask you as many questions that pop into his mind. he's genuinely curious about what you're into!

as for mike's sPin/hyperfixations, i feel like one of the biggest hyperfixations he ever had as a child was pokemon. it's basic and mainstream, i know, but i feel like he especially took interest in card-collecting. i feel like he's a big collector in general-- he likes seeing physical groups of things that he either picks up or buys himself. he doesn't have much money to expand his collections now, but every once in a while he'll save up to expand them. i feel like he really enjoys miniature things-- like tiny things he can build. this may seem a bit childish to him and he'd never admit it-- but he likes calico critters because of the small objects. he can just never afford the sets. i feel like he also watches tiny cooking videos on his phone when he can't sleep.

mike's also a really big music enjoyer. i feel like he's always got his walkman on him-- several tapes. this man is a sade and jeff buckley enjoyer and you can't tell me any different.

despite the fact that he needs a job to support himself and abby-- mike is quick to burn out with work. he'll start off strong at first, and then later, everything down to the very air he could breathe in the place could just irritate him. besides all the stuff that happened at freddy's, it was... sort of a fresh breath of air, being his 'own boss.' no coworkers that couldn't understand the meaning of taking a break due to overstimulation to nag in his ear during rushes. not that rushes even really existed in the first place at freddy's. but for all his other jobs, he either got fired or outright quit less than 6 months of work because of his dull-minded managers. fast food was the worst-- he'd always encounter rude customers. he got a drink thrown at him, once, and he swore to never work fast food again. he does not back down on promises.

but whenever he does have burnout, or have a meltdown, mike instantly seeks you out first. he's clinging to you like a lifeline, feeling tears springing to his eyes whenever he's thinking about the amount of bills and fees he has to pay, or the chores he needs to do. he needs you to distract him from it all, he needs you to hold him tight and just distract him from everything. the burnout takes weeks to go away, but you and abby just make the experience so much smoother for him.

i feel like mike really enjoys going on road trips and long drives. no destination, just driving around with you and abby, making up dumb stories or you giving storytimes from your job that abby probably shouldn't be hearing, incase she starts picking up words like 'shit.' but she's already picked them up, honestly.

both you and abby are his lifelines. and the world wouldn't quite click if it weren't for you, especially.

[issacballsac]

“Being Best-friends with Dante Sparda„

Being a son of Sparda doesn’t mean he doesn’t have time to fool around with you ! Gender neutral human reader

Teenage Years | DMC3

Being the massive flirt he is he’ll most likely try and flirt with you upon meeting

Seeing as his twin brother is currently trying to kill him and take his necklace he’ll keep your first conversation short and leave you with his number

After literal Hell on Earth he’ll remember to give you a call

Y’all click instantly…he’s also just a really easy person to get along with but we’ll just ignore that

Now we all know he STAYS broke so either you pay for a meal or y’all are taking a walk in the park somewhere

Getting him to actually talk about himself is pretty difficult

Give him space and he’ll open up about deeper things in his life eventually especially things that concern his demon half(brother, childhood, etc.)

He does enjoy throwing compliments everywhere so expect daily words of praise whether it be sarcastic, goofy, exaggerated, or sincere praise

If you like to compliment as well it’ll be like the most sickening bromance ever

If your still in school DO NOT go to him for homework help

He’ll hype you up for sure but if you need genuine academic help just get a tutor💀

Would be genuinely upset if you made a joke regarding his white hair bro would get hella moody and claim you aren’t friends anymore

If you have a part time job you can BET he’s gonna ask for some bread

Not exactly outright but he’ll allude to it like..

“You remember all the damage those demon guys did to my shop? Yeah…it’s gonna cost A TON to repair it by myself…”

“Are you hungry? Well I heard about this new pizza spot that WE should totally tryout 😁.”

If you like to make clothes/jewelry/accessories he’ll totally wear it

Refuses to let you mess with his hair until like two years into knowing each other

Takes pride in his looks and you should too! Self care! Ofc you’re paying for any and all expenses🫶

Glorified sugar daddy😭

If you live with your parents…so does he

Congratulations you have a new brother 🩰

If you don’t he’ll offer to be roommates so he can get a cheaper rent

You’ll definitely meet Lady she is absolutely appalled at how you tolerate him constantly sarcastically ofc she knows he’s a good guy

If you’re into video games he’ll play with you granted he doesn’t have the money to pay for a game console so it’ll be on whatever console you have

Once he’s in your life he’s never leaving literally.

A best-friend for a lifetime

Adult Years

He probably saved you from some demons

Like if you met him in his teenage year he’d def start flirting

What can I say he stays true to himself

His personality would never change regardless of his aging

Still the same wacky woohoo pizza man we know and love

Thinks you look hot and invites you on a date which quickly just turns into a hangout after the LACK of romance

Still finds hanging with you to be fun and keeps a friendship

Even after establishing a friendship he still flirts here and there—force of habit

Would definitely teach you how to ride a motorcycle if you didn’t already know

More willing to let you mess with his hair

Like put it in pigtails or tie it up/braid it

Introduced you to the whole DMC gang

Now depending on the time period he’ll tell you about Vergil and his upbringing

He would totally tell you all about it after the events of DMC5 after he returns ofc!

I feel like he’s an animal guy so if you have any pets they’re now his pets too

Co-parenting core🩰

If you’re an artist he’ll be your muse/reference material any day

Loves the attention

Drunk dance nights

Karaoke too he doesn’t have the best singing voice but it’s not the worst

Since he’s a devil hunter he goes on missions a lot and seeing as you don’t want to get your shit rocked you stay behind

Cherishes every moment spent together and will make sure you know that

You always take him with you on vacations

How could you not???

He appreciates if you chip in helping him pay off his MASSIVE FUCKING DEBT

He doesn’t expect you to though

Despite being broke he stays stylish and if you asked would help you with fashion

Ofc he isn’t like BIG on fashion but cmon have you seen his looks? He dabbles

Immediately sees you after missions and starts ranting about the entire thing

“Can you believe it?! So obviously I shot that nasty bitch and it had the nerve to explode all over my jacket! It died so I can’t even get it to pay for a new one!”

“Don’t worry about why I smell like this worry about the fact that Trish totally took MY commission!”

Very dramatic but laid back too if that makes sense

Calls you cheesy nicknames that I will not elaborate on use your imagination 🗣️🫶

Enjoys live music and will go with you to concerts if you like

Shows you his demon form if you’re interested

Whatever your hobby is he’ll be interested

Would make sure nothing ever bad happened to you regarding devils ofc

Best bros for life and in death🫡

[lvrcpid]

Need need need more of the modern au

ASK AND YOU SHALL RECEIVE. i made this in 10 minutes just for you 🤭

rockets and rollercoasters - modern!au

includes : gn!reader, dad tsu’tey agenda AGAIN!, implied neteyam & ao’nung x reader , lo’ak being hilarious as always , use of (y/n)

at an amusement park with modern!avatar

lo’ak:

— MANNNNN LISTEN

— he wants to ride all the rollarcoasters

— but gets off crying after the first one

— eats hella junk food

— i’m talking cotton candy STAINING HIS FINGERS

— loves loves LOVES THE WATER RIDES

— probably gets pissed off when it’s time to go home

— drags tsireya and you to that big ride where it drops you from like 50 ft in the air

— you’re enjoying it while tsireya and lo’ak are screaming for their parents 50 FT IN THE AIR.

neteyam:

— this sweetheart wins you the biggest bear at one of the stands

— he helps you name it ofc

— you guys name it rob.

— fuckin rob.

— ANYWAYS.

— attempts but fails to get his dad on rides

— he’s definitely a teacups kind of boy

— constantly making sure everyone is good

— poses for the pictures during the rollercoaster drops

— probably does the same ride over and over

— and he drags you along cause why not you know

— probably stops if you complain about feeling sick

— you weren’t you just didn’t wanna ride anymore TEEHEE 🤭

kiri:

— probably didn’t wanna go , neytiri had to drag her to the car

— definitely wearing a sun visor like someone’s nana

— walks around the whole park listening to music

— my girl has a fanny pack and DOESNT CARE

— most likely got on a few rides with lo’ak to shut him up

— i see kiri as a churro girl so definitely spending all her money on churros and overpriced water bottles

— probably got a caricature just for funsies but really liked it in the end

— DIPPIN DOTS.

— okay i’m stopping before shes longer than anyone here

tuk:

— SHES TOO SMALL FOR ANY OF THR RIDES

— dragging jake to the kids part of the park

— “DADDY WATCH ME”

— “i’m watching baby” - a tired father who just wants a break and some water

— probably wore a swim suit under her outfit just in case the park had a water portion, which it did

— her seat was soaking wet when they got back in the car

— made neytiri buy her HELLA PLUSHIES CAUSE “i need them so my squishmallows don’t get lonely”

— our social butterfly made some new friends

— jake sighing cause he has to make new dad friends when he was content with tonowari and tsu’tey

ao’nung:

— WHY IS HE PLAYING BASKETBALL TO WIN YOU A BEAR

— ORIGINALITY IS FREE!!

— loves rollercosters

— and i mean LOVESSSS

— he just goes on the ones that are super high and go super fast

— you know how your stomach shifts when the drop happens

— yeah he lives for that feeling

— probably gets lost in the park and calls you all sassy and huffy

— “come get me damnit.”

— you hang up cause he DIDNT SAY PLEASE.

tsireya :

— probably just in the arcade getting scammed from a crane machine

— crying to her parents abt how she didn’t even get the plush she wanted

— doesn’t even walk near the rollercoasters

— PHOTOBOOTH QUEEN!

— why is she walking around with a turkey leg???

— someone please take that from her??????

— official mom of the group

— she has pain killers , sunscreen , aloe vera???????

— girl came locked and LOADED

— hung around with you until y’all went home cause that sun ZAPPED HER

y/n

— didn’t even wanna come

— your dad threatened to take away your phone

— you jumped your ass in that car so FAST

— you probably got lost too eventually and found ao’nung on your way

— probably eating 4 ice cream cones in 30 minutes cause it was SOOOOO HOTTTTT

— dancing to the music they’re playing cause why are they bumping tyler the creator at an amusement park??

— passing out on a rollercoaster

— okay maybe all of them

— you passed out on all the rollercoasters.

— PROBABLY GETTING WHIPLASH NGL.

a.n// my first ask??? i love this for me??? just a quick reminder my requests are OPEN and i’m glad to see you guys like reading my modern au just as much as i love writing them . my next one has a LITTLE something to do with valentine’s day TEEHEE 🤭

[hausofanya]

@USER0326581 JUST POSTED A NEW VIDEO …

CONTENT : candy salad relationship trauma dump with everyone’s favorite rich auntie in training! inspired by @bluwavez ofc! i honestly just wanted to jump in on the trend before it fizzles out… lmao. warnings include violence, scamming, manipulation, breaking and entering, and seok dowon being the most despicable person on the planet. lmk if there’s anything i missed. enjoy!

the video opens up to a little bit of a shaky start—the woman on screen fixing her camera to be help up right. cléo hesitates for a moment before offering the camera a smile, bringing a clear bowl in view before shaking it with faux enthusiasm.

“doing this trend because i saw it going around,” she starts as she places the bowl down, crossing her arms behind it. “my manager won’t let me outside so i’m doing this in place of therapy. crazy right? it’s been so long but i’ve still got nightmares about it. but anyway.”

holding up a bag of sour patch kids watermelon, she begins to share. “in 2020, i was introduced to seok dowon by a mutual friend at a party. we talked nearly the whole night if i remember correctly, and admittedly i was hooked from the first moment. he was charming. pretty face, pretty smile, but gave me his undivided attention. it was.. intoxicating.”

cléo rolls her eyes before continuing. “he asked me out a few weeks later and i said yes. snuck out from my dorm, met up with him at a shitty restaurant, and despite being a rising b-list actor, made me pay for my meal.” she snorts, adding, “not that i minded. but when soompi is telling the masses you made millions off your recent film, the least you could do was pay for a meal.”

“long story short, the reason why he didn’t pay is because he owed the owner’s son money. they found out he was there and nearly got his ass beat. not exactly the best first date, hm?” cléo dumps the candy in the bowl, shaking her head. “first red flag!”

“as i’m thinking hard on it, i think he definitely love-bombed me. he would spoil me for days and then ghost me for weeks on end. only being sweet on me if he needed something and then leaving me high and dry when he got what he wanted.” pursing her lips, she sighs before shaking her head. “there was this one incident on my birthday where we’d argue a week before and i was hoping to be cordial for at least those specific 24 hours. but he embarrassed me by standing up and loudly telling everyone that i was pressuring him for sex despite him ‘wanting to wait until we got married’.”

an incredulous laugh leaves her as she remembers the moment, continuing to giggle as she holds up a bag of air head xtremes. “it’s not funny, it really isn’t. it was terrible. and he did at my birthday dinner!”

“as we continued dating, we kept it on the low because netizens are crazy. you get crucified for breathing wrong in this industry. but somehow, every kpop news outlet in the world found out we were dating through a stalker fan who was madly in love with him. that’s how everything was put on blast back in 2021. and to add to the fucking injury, he paid for the photos to be released!” cléo sends a loaded look to the camera as she pulls another bag of candy in view. “blue raspberry sour straws. my favorites!”

“naturally, the company shut down momentarily. cried my skin dry everyday. matching jewelry, sharing clothes, that and the sort. i’m unbearably sappy and a romantic at heart all to my detriment, i know.” holding up a bag of sour haribo gummy bears, she adds, “then a someone got a hold of my personal phone number and sent me death threats claiming to be his ex. if crazy people attract crazy people, what the hell does that say about me? i’m just trying to sing on stage, what the hell… she eventually threatened to leak my number and my family’s numbers if i didn’t publicly break up with him. to which honestly, get a life. if leaking numbers is your greatest achievement in life, you desperately need to invest that energy into a 9-5.”

she wordlessly dumps the bears into the bowl.

“as the hate campaign was growing and ‘the nation’s boyfriend’’s fans all wanted my head on a pike, his chats also get leaked! which would have been fine, chats get leaked all the time. except they weren’t, and it turns out he was scamming women on the down low while calling them cunts and whores and other despicable thing in the book. the ones about me went viral naturally, so i would like to formally introduce myself as ‘the world’s biggest easy-money slut’! amongst other spectacular and riveting reviews.”

shaking a bag of airhead bites into the bowl, she hums softly. “i think in total he scammed me for around a few thousand dollars. not a lot compared to other women, but you know.”

“mind you, as all this information is leaking left and right, he makes no move to contact me. pr is in flames, twitter is permanently deleted off my phone, and i’m about a month or so into my hiatus. deleted his contact, of course. moniqa and xavier made sure of it. and then a random number starts calling me everyday. texts start coming in asking for money. i knew it was him, deleted the contact. but it got so bad i considered changing my number.”

“then he breaks into my apartment!” cléo reveals the next candy with jazz hands, tearing open the bag of sour gummy worms with a thin smile. “i don’t know what i would have done if min and jinnie weren’t there. i don’t know what he would have done if no one was there. long story short, he tried to attack me and got thrown out of the apartment.” tossing the empty bag to the side, she adds with an air of faux amusement, “so now i can’t even relax until i’ve checked the door’s been deadbolted. how fun.”

pausing on a bag of regular sour patch kids, she lights up suddenly. “oh! i forgot to mention my private instagram was leaked. i’ve had that account since high school, i think. so my entire life was on there. nothing scandalous was found, but it was pretty embarrassing. that’s where they found the most evidence of our relationship. sue me for wanting to take pictures of what i thought was a loving relationship.”

“he releases an apology at the end of 2021 when other actors and women started speaking out against him. remember that one? blah blah blah i truly did love you, whatever whatever. and then when netizens rightfully put the flames under his ass, he tried to sue me for defamation. as if i’m the one who put everything on blast! the audacity of this fucking guy. sky high, i tell you.”

her expression softens for a moment, smiling down at the bowl. “at least i had my friends through it all. i thought them disliking him was overprotectiveness. turns out i need to have my prescription checked heavily.”

cléo snorts as she holds up her candy bowl filled with sour goods. “there’s a lot of stuff i’m omitting still. i know, i know. feel free to send hate to that guy for all i care. i hope he rots in deepest fiery bit of hell.”

setting the bowl down, she gives a cute wave to the camera. “i’m gonna go eat this and watch demon slayer now. bye!”

[ayotofu]

Imagine if you will (with a lot of hand wavy time changes ofc) that the leverage team during their LA days end up crossing paths with the 118. I just feel like chim and hardison would get along so well. And Bobby and Nate both have the brooding trauma thing but Bobby has actually faced his demons.

This is out of left field sorry i just wanted to think out loud about shoving my two favourite shows together like im five and they’re my barbies

believe you me anon i have IMAGINED THE SHIT outta this :D :D :D

i'm soooooo glad you asked because i've had this fic in the back of my head where hen and karen are like. hey what this councilwoman is doing to us and to our nine year old is fucking malicious and cruel and only possible because she is abusing her power and now she's put hen's old shithead captain (who was REMOVED from the same station for creating a hostile work environment and particularly bullying hen) BACK IN CHARGE, and all of this is super sketchy, but ortiz and gerrard have ALL the power in this scenario. so.

who do they call if not the leverage team?

hen obviously tells chim, who tells everyone else, so when strange people start showing up and doing weird shit, they all collectively decide not to worry about it.

eliot definitely goes undercover at the 118, covering for someone who got a spontaneous all-expenses-paid vacation (hardison tried to send them on a cruise at first, but for some reason they declined). he and eddie instantly bond, macho-to-macho. eliot quickly learns that eddie a) has a kid and b) can't cook very well so decides that he needs to learn so he can feed his kid well. (eddie insists that he's not that bad at cooking jesus but eliot is getting too into it)

buck at one point overhears eliot talking to parker and hardison on the comm and is like "omg, can i try" and annoys eliot until he agrees. buck, it turns out, does not actually know what to say on the comm so he just starts listing facts about famous heists in history while parker gives her opinion on the quality of each of them. "aw," parker says, "you're like a little nerd in my ear" to which hardison says "babe do i mean nothing to you"

sophie tries to work ortiz while nate tries to work gerrard. because of this, nate happens to run into bobby when they were both coming to talk to gerrard (bobby to try to convince him, somehow, to leave vs. nate for the con) and they talk. bobby knows why nate is here (chimney reeeeally can't keep a secret) but that short conversation lets him see in nate all the darkness he's keeping at bay in himself. bobby looks at nate and gets sad because, while nate is functional, that darkness could have been him. nate looks at bobby and gets angry because, while bobby will never be fully healed, that lightness could have been him.

parker works closest with hen and karen. she is furious on their behalf, gets a little too emotionally involved. she's seen a lot of people do terrible things for money and power (she's done some things herself that she's not exactly proud of) but this one hits different. ortiz isn't hurting hen and karen to get more money or power; she's doing it because she wants to hurt them. it's so vindictive. just pointlessly cruel.

and more than that: parker was mara, once upon a time. she was the mara who never really got her hen and karen. she doesn't want another little girl to end up like her. she and sophie are both around ortiz at one point and ortiz says something about mara (such a tragedy, that little girl, abandoned again like it wasn't all her fault) and sophie grabs the pencil out of parker's hand before she can start stabbing.

i don't know exactly how chim and hardison meet, but chimney absolutely starts asking him to hack into random shit. harmless shit. gerrard's email (90% of it was spam emails. chim, delighted, signs him up for hundreds more. mostly gay porn), ortiz's hildy coffee machine (to make it run, constantly, for an hour, spilling hot coffee all over her floor) (eddie hears about it and holds it over buck for weeks because he was RIGHT those things are DANGEROUS)

i don't have a very coherent plot for this but i do think it would be such a fun crossover

[no-not-without-you-blog]

Recipe for Love- Chapter 5

Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC (Joanna MacDonald)

Warnings: Language?

Section Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Recipe for Love Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The week went by quietly enough. Steve hated to admit it to himself, but he found it nice to have home cooked meals more often. None of the team were fairly good cooks. They could each get by on a couple of dishes, but none of it was very good and it wasn’t varied enough to not get tired of the same things over and over. However, with Jo, the food was good. Not five star restaurant level, but it was hot and well seasoned and not burned and soggy at the same time, which you wouldn’t think would be a problem, but it was. Especially if Bucky or Natasha were cooking. They might be some of the deadliest fighters in the world, but they couldn’t cook to save their lives. Steve couldn’t say much though. He only really knew how to cook a few things, including pasta. It was hard to screw up pasta, but he had definitely given that a run for its money a few times. So yes, it was nice to have good food again. Also having the team sitting down together was nice. They were always so busy with training, briefings, and missions that they rarely got to get together and just relax. At first, having Jo in the room made it difficult to have conversations with each other, as she was very serious about her request to not be involved in any “Avenging” conversations. The team was so used to being hyper-focused on work that it took a bit of time to step back and take a break. It wasn’t long, however, before normal conversation took over.

It was Friday, and the team was excited to go out the next night. Steve was still holding strong on not attending. A modern bar was definitely not his scene. Very few things made him feel “old”, but the dating scene at bars was up there on the list. He had always been shy around women, in general and this didn’t really stop when he became Captain America. But going out nowadays was a minefield. Women were so open and blunt about their desires and being so shy, this threw him off. Plus, he always worried that someone was attempting to be with him because of who he was. Sam used this to his advantage. He wasn't looking for anything serious currently, so a short fling with someone who might only want their five minutes in the light was fine with him. But Steve wasn’t like that. He didn’t want to have a casual thing with someone. To be fair, he wasn’t sure he wanted a thing with anyone again, serious or not.

He had been avoiding Jo all week, however, it wasn’t for the same reasons he had been in the beginning. He was embarrassed and remorseful of how he had treated her. He knew that he needed to actually apologize to her but he hadn’t worked up the nerve to talk to her about it yet. That night after dinner though, he had finally had enough of his own wallowing in guilt and walked towards her room. He hesitantly knocked on her door and waited until she opened it. He was shocked to find Wanda at the door instead of Jo, eyes red with obvious emotion.

“W-Wanda…What are you doing here?” He asked her, surprised to find her here.

“Oh, I was just talking to Jo about… some stuff.” Steve knew that while he tried his best to be there for her to talk, he could only provide so much support and advice. While he personally was hesitant to speak to a therapist, he was glad that if she was needing help, that she was getting it. She looked at him and cocked her head. “Why are you here, Stevie?”

Steve rubbed the back of his neck, feeling embarrassed at the inference in her question. “Oh, uh… I needed to talk to Jo.”

She raised an eyebrow. “I’ll get her for you.” Turning back towards the room she called out. “Jo! Steve is here to talk to you. I’ll see you tomorrow.” At this she walked past Steve and started down the hall. She looked back and grinned as she saw Jo come to the door and give Steve a wide smile. Steve had his hands deep in his pockets, letting Wanda know that he was nervous. A big strong super soldier who looked afraid to talk to someone. She just shook her head and rolled her eyes as she walked away. 

Steve was standing in front of Jo with his hands shoved in his pockets, staring at the ground, not quite sure how to proceed. She smiled widely at him and leaned against her door frame. 

“Hi Steve, what can I do for you?”

He shuffled his feet slightly. “Jo, I don't really know how to start. I know you told me not to worry about what I said to you earlier this week, but it’s been eating at me all week. I needed to come apologize for how I spoke to you and the assumptions I made about you. It was rude and a poor representation of who I strive to be. I didn't give you a chance to be honest about yourself and I just assumed you were going to lie about things and use the team and myself.”

Jo was surprised by his words. “Steve, you don’t need to be upset about this. I understood your reasons for being cautious of me and I wasn’t expecting an apology .”

Steve shook his head in disagreement. “I know you didn’t expect an apology, but you deserve one and I couldn't go any longer without giving you one. I’m sorry, truly. I hope I didn’t make you feel too uncomfortable on your first days here and that I can prove to you that I am not some judgemental asshole.”

At this she laughed. “I would never have thought that of you…” She saw Steve raise an eyebrow in disbelief. “Okay, maybe for a little bit, but not for long.” 

Steve chuckled as well. “Trust me, I wouldn’t blame you. I was definitely not myself for a moment there. Is there any way that I can make it up to you?”

She started shaking her head and saying that he didn’t need to make anything up when a thought came to her head. A slight smile creeped across her face. “Well… you could always come out with the group tomorrow. Sam told me you aren’t really one for the bar scene and I completely understand that, but you’re the only one not coming and it would be nice to have you there. You all need to let your hair down and relax and I would hate for you to be the only one not going.”

He thought for a moment, his face scrunched up in displeasure, and then sighed with resignation. “Let my hair down, huh? Yeah, I guess I could make an exception this once… Just as an apology.” 

“Sure, sure.” She said while nodding her head in mock seriousness before a smile crossed her face. “Well, Captain, I look forward to seeing you there. Goodnight Steve.”

He smiled and nodded his head softly. “Goodnight Jo.” He said softly.

She closed the door behind her and leaned against the door. She was happy and she wasn’t quite sure why. It must have been Steve’s apology and that he was willing to get together with the group. She wouldn’t admit that part of the smile was for the soft way he had said her name when he said goodnight.

[drowninginblox]

Do you think the Straw Hats get touch-starved?

I’ve been getting into One Piece recently and the thought of getting isikaied into the show has been making its rounds in my head. Thinking of what I would do if allowed onboard has become my newest pastime so ima ramble about it.

Ofc I would do manual work and help out with the ship's cosmetics, maybe take on a little bit of everyone else’s work if they let me, but overall, what would be my role? Then I started thinking about how broken everyone is and I thought- what if I just played support?

And then the angst came rushing in-

So this is how touch-starved the straw hats are (in my POV ofc)

Luffy

I don’t think Luffy is a touch person

I mean yes the dude likes hugs and shit but I don’t think he’d die without them.

To me, Luffy comes off as someone who likes gifts or words of affirmation above everything else

Probably cus I see this guy as an aro/ace icon but that's just me

Usopp

Mans is starving but he wouldn’t realize it until literally the moment he gets crumbs

I think it’s made worse by the fact he’s thinking about Kaya almost as much as he is living in the moment (if that makes any sense)

If I were to offer him a cuddle sesh I think he’d legit think about it for a bit before turning me down out of respect for Kaya

But he be longing for physical affection bro I Mf know it

Sanji

Wants but won’t give in

As of right now, this man is a fucking s l a v e to Nami so I think that the same principle for Usopp would follow to Sanji. The only difference being his reaction would be more vocal and immediate.

“Absolutely not!”

That is to say, he definitely struggles with physical touch. I’m sure of it. There is something deep inside this boy that struggles when it comes to self-worth. I can’t place it yet but I can see it-

Zoro

I think he’d call me a whore? Idk why. But my mind is telling me that this man doesn’t need physical touch. What he needs is physical therapy for over-exerting himself.

Fr tho, if Zoro ever got the notion that he wants some hugs or platonic cuddles, I think it would be a struggle to come to terms with that.

Very much “I haven’t wanted/ needed this before, so why do I crave this now?” From that, I’d think he’d internalize that struggle until it’s something he can’t war over anymore.

He’d eventually get over himself and ask for a hug or putting his head on my lap when no one else is around/ when everyone else is asleep except us.

Nami

Oh Nami, my Nami. You do not trust easy.

You lie to yourself and strive in your own but I know that you will take anything you get girl

She’d only take side hugs if someone asked for a hug.

She doesn’t ask for one unless it’s after a life-or-death situation/something stressful. The same can be said for cuddles

I hope this bitch is pampered by someone she loves just as is not more than berries.

Honestly if it wasn't for the fact that he was a pervert, i'd put my money on Sanji but... i highly doubt that

Koby

He so is.

As soon as I offered, he would have his arms out. Always open for. a hug.

I think he'd make cuddling more than it is though.

But once he gets over it, if the free time presents itself, absolutely.

BONUS!!!

Spoilers for season 2 of OPLA or Alabasta for the new anime watchers/ manga readers!

Robin

No.

Physical touch is not on the menu for her

Not now at least.

One day though

Chopper

An adorable little thing like him is always down for a hug I know it

Will ask for hugs and cuddles not for himself but for the person he's asking them from. Mostly from Nami, Zorro, and Robin

Chopper would prob get the same vibe for me lmao

[rayshippouuchiha]

Ray, light of my days, I probably write into this cursed little ask-machine to you too much, but gods above I had such a fucking bonkers dream I woke up in indignation and started to lecture the radiator at the corner of my room while half asleep.

So like we've got a new kinda pass, a castlecounty pass, and it costs less than a normal bus pass while being usable on other places too, like a fucking train finally, so ofc I have one.

And I've dreamt that we finally managed to graduate and decided to celebrate with karaoke up in Budapest.

(I have a horrible voice and I'm shy about it, so I absolutely despise karaoke. As a side note.)

And then we got a bitch ass inspector who I had to give my castlecounty pass and my still usable student ID saying that it was still valid until October by the laws of this land.(should've realized that moment this is a dream lol) BUT. Despite definitely having my student ID with me, it was in my hand and all, I couldn't find it. So this bitch took my credit card and wrote the information down and said "Don't worry, it's settled now!😃"

And for a second I was living in a kinder, better world, so obviously I had to call FUCKING DOBBY, who ACTUALLY SHOWED UP, and ask him if he nested with my ID. And after his whole "oh the great Harry Potter" thing died down (I was still myself btw) he said "Harry Potter sir don't be needing it anymore, but it has Harry Potter sirs picture so Dobby hanged it up on his nest wall". Which was also weird bc noone noticed him there, and bc he was speaking English instead of my native tongue. And then he just fucking disapparated.

So I called him back and instead of telling him to give my ID back I asked him to very speedily steal money from "them ferret faced bleached fuckers" and exchange it to muggle currency at Gringotts because I'm getting fined for not having the ID.

So now I have there with me some cold hard cash stolen from the Malfoys by your friendly neighborhood spiteful house elf. And then I made my way to the definitely longer than usual bus-that-evolved-inti-a-train, and the inspector was still there with some bitchy conductor and I was like is this enough? And she told me not to worry about it, also my account is in the minus btw, I shouldn't have given her access, she went online shopping with my money🙄

And then I woke up but didn't process it and now my brother thinks I'm fucking stupid because he found me lecturing my radiator from my bed, the covers to my chin while sitting up like some victorian little lady.

whatever you ate before you went to sleep really said we're about to go on such an adventure

[foundtherightwords]

The Road Forgotten - Chapter 8

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC

A/N: I made Arthur bisexual and paired him with a female character in this. I know some writers have gotten flack for pairing Arthur with a female character (or reader), so if it's not your cup of tea, please walk away.

This is mostly based on the events of "Dickensian", but I've also incorporated some elements and characters from "Great Expectations". Most notably, Satis House is in Kent (as in the book) instead of in London.

Summary: A few years after his plan to swindle his sister ended in tragedy, Arthur Havisham is a shadow of a man, living in guilt and fear. When Elsie Bradford, a young woman also wronged by Compeyson, enlists Arthur's help to hunt down his former partner-in-crime, Arthur must face his demons and other strange, new feelings, to redeem himself.

Warnings: slow burn, angst, guilt, revenge, psychological trauma, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide/suicide ideations, some violence (in this chapter), a bit of smut (implied smut toward the end of this chapter)

Chapter word count: 2.8k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Arthur saw Elsie duck back into the alley, her face deathly white, her whole body shaking like a leaf. "What is it?"

"They found me. I don't know how, but they found me."

He didn't need to ask who she meant. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the other end of the alley, where it ended in a courtyard. He helped her over the short gate and into a series of labyrinthine lanes and pathways and yards that went behind and between houses. Through these they ran blindly, taking any turn they came upon, not caring where they were going as long as they put some distance between themselves and the two thugs, not stopping until they came upon a gate too tall to climb over. Here they paused to take a breather, straining their ears for any noise behind them. There were footsteps. Still far away, but definitely footsteps, coming closer, inevitably, inexorably. And they were trapped in a dead end.

"Who are these men?" Arthur asked. "Who do they work for? What did you do that made them hunt you so?"

"Does it matter?" Elsie said impatiently, rattling the bars of the gate in vain.

"Perhaps we could bribe them, or pay them off in some way..."

She snorted. "Not unless you have five thousand pounds lying around."

Arthur's heart sank when he remembered he'd once had twice that amount in his hands and had given it away to Compeyson, in a misguided attempt to pay for his sins. It hadn't worked. If only he still had it now. He could've saved Elsie. "What did you do?" he repeated.

Elsie turned to him. She seemed to have come to a decision.

"Do you remember what I told you about how I managed to leave Mrs. Hill's employment?" she said.

"The rich old gentleman?"

"There was no rich old gentleman," she said. "I ran away. I stole from her." She stopped and corrected herself. "No, I didn't steal. I only took what was owed me." And then the words came rushing out, in a cramped, urgent whisper, "It was the money I earned during my eight years there, one year as a maid and seven years as a whore. I made her piles and piles of gold and I never saw a sliver of it. So I took what was mine and I ran. I had to move Marianne three times before I found an asylum remote enough. But I had to come back to London to find Compeyson. And now she's sniffed me out." She took his hands. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

Arthur supposed he should have been angry that she kept this from him. But he only felt a sense of awed admiration, even more than what he'd already had for her, and utter shame at himself for sneering at her just a few days ago, for saying that she only knew how to charm men. She had forgiven him for his drunken rant, but he still wanted to make it up to her somehow. That night, he hadn't been able to bring himself to say what he wished he could do for her. He wished he could love her. He wished he could protect her. He wished he could make her feel safe and comfortable, so he never had to wake up to find her fidgeting in bed next to him again. But none of those things would make a difference now.

The footsteps were getting closer.

"Here," he said, kneeling down and clasping his hands together to form a step in front of her. "I can give you a boost."

"What about you?"

"I'll hold them off. You go."

"No!" She held on to his coat. "I told you, don't try to be a hero. They'll kill you."

He had to smile at that. If she only knew how much he'd longed for death before he met her. Back then, death would have been a release. Now he no longer craved it, but he would consider it a worthwhile prize to pay.

"Don't worry about me," he said.

Elsie looked at him, torn. Then she gathered up her skirts, stepped on his outstretched hands, and hoisted herself over the gate. But she didn't run off right away. She pulled a knife out of her reticule, the same knife she'd used on Bill Sikes the night they met, and pressed it into his hand. "Stay alive, all right?" she whispered. "I'll see you at home."

Home. Arthur wanted to tell her that his home was wherever she was, but before he could say a word, she reached through the gate, dropped a quick kiss on his cheek, and vanished into the night, leaving him standing there in shock.

Long after she was gone, he could still feel the heat of her lips on his skin. It gave him strength. He gripped the knife tightly in his palm and strode forward, in the direction of the approaching footsteps.

Soon enough, the two thugs emerged from the alley at a loping run. They drew to a halt upon seeing him. For the briefest moment, Arthur hoped they would ignore him and pass him by, but then he remembered he didn't just have to save himself; he had to stop them from going after Elsie. So he put on the boldest front he could muster up and stood in their way. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said with a pleasant smile. "May I help you?"

"Where's the girl?" the one known as Cyclops snarled.

"What girl?" Arthur asked, still smiling.

"Don't be smart with us, pretty boy," Cyclops said. "We saw you two getting cozy behind that gambling house. Where did she go?"

"Oh, that girl. How should I know? I paid her for her service, it is no concern of mine where she's gone," Arthur said. He hated the lie, but he told himself he was doing it to protect Elsie.

Cyclops's upper lip crooked up in a sneer. He bobbed his head to the tall one, the Chimney, who spat out the cheroot he'd been smoking, bent his shoulders, and ran straight at Arthur.

It was like being hit by a galloping horse. The man's shoulder caught Arthur under his sternum, causing him to crash to the ground with a force that knocked the breath clean out of him. Blackness smashed into his eyes, and pain exploded at the back of his head. He was hauled to his feet and slammed into a brick wall. More pain erupted between his shoulder blades, sending a sense of numbness down his spine and his limbs, paralyzing him.

Cyclops grunted, and the Chimney relaxed his arm, letting Arthur slide down the wall until he was at the same eye level as the little man. He could smell Cyclops's rancid breath on his face and see that single iron-gray eye with its pinprick of a pupil boring into him, even in the dim light of the alley. "Told you not to be smart with us," Cyclops said, holding a thin blade under Arthur's eye. "We've been watching you these past weeks. Joined at the hips, you are. You thought you were clever, you lost us for a while, but we found you again. So be good and tell us where she is. Don't make me mark up this sweet little face."

"I—don't—know—what—you're—talking about!" Arthur managed through the pain and the arm like a tree trunk on his chest, pinning him in place.

Cyclops sighed, as if he hated having to do this. Silently, he increased the pressure on the blade, and it bit into Arthur's cheek. The metal was icy cold, yet its touch on Arthur's skin was like a scorching fire. He could feel blood welling up from the cut and dripping down his face. A whimper escaped his lips.

"Scream, pretty boy," Cyclops said. "Maybe your girl will come to your rescue."

The pain reminded Arthur of the knife Elsie had given him. He was sure he had dropped it when the Chimney knocked him down, but to his surprise, he could still feel its handle in his palm. Putting all the strength he had left into his arm, Arthur swung out wildly. He felt the knife connect with something fleshy—a torso or an arm, he couldn't tell—and heard the Chimney bellow like a wounded beast. The arm holding him buckled, and Arthur crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. A kick landed on his ribcage, followed by a blow to his shoulder. Unable to get to his feet, Arthur could only curl up under the barrage of punching fists and kicking feet and everything and anything the Chimney could get his hands on. Arthur thought he was numb before, but he definitely wasn't so numb to not feel this vicious onslaught.

"Stop, stop, you brainless oaf!" Arthur heard Cyclops yell. "It's no use killing him! He's our only chance to find that thieving cunt!"

So they didn't know where Elsie was staying. That was some comfort.

"Bastard stuck me!" the Chimney roared.

"He barely nicked you. C'mon, get him up so I can—"

Arthur never found out what Cyclops had in store for him. There was a sharp, shrill blow of a police constable's whistle, a shout of "You there! What's going on?", and the sound of several pairs of boots running up.

"Fuck," Cyclops cursed. "Bobby's here. Let's go."

A clatter of the gate told Arthur that Cyclops had clambered over it. The Chimney turned and gave Arthur another kick for good measure, before following his comrade.

Arthur didn't know how long he lay there listening to the sound of receding footsteps and his own ragged breathing. The whistle kept blowing, at longer and longer intervals, but the police didn't show up. Perhaps they had followed the thugs from a different direction. He didn't care. He was only glad he was still alive.

Once his breathing had regained some of its normal speed, he planted his palms on the ground and pulled himself into a sitting position. His whole body was one mass of pain, every bit of skin, every muscle so bruised and tender that even the slightest scrape of the ground under his cheek sent shudders throughout his limbs. The pain was so great that it took over his mind, and he just sat there in a daze. There was something important he must do, somewhere he must go, but he could not remember. Then his eyes landed on the bloodied knife on the ground. He closed his fist around it, and his mind cleared. Home. He must go home. Home to Elsie.

It took every bit of willpower to drag himself to his feet and go back the way they came—there was no way he could climb that gate now, and even if he could, Cyclops and the Chimney might be lying in wait in that direction. So he stumbled through the alleys and back lanes once more, until he found himself on the more familiar thoroughfare of St. James. The street was quiet now, the raid over. Late-night revelers stared at Arthur as he staggered past, but he paid them no mind. It certainly wasn't the first time he walked the streets in such a state.

He had half hoped to run into Elsie on the way, but he knew it was unlikely. She had said she would see him at home. So he had to make it home.

By the time he arrived in St. Giles, he was gasping for breath. His ribs constricted painfully every time he inhaled, and he hoped they weren't broken. He forced himself up the stairs and into his room. It was dark and deserted, no sign of Elsie. His body was screaming, and the cut on his cheek throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the clamoring of his heart. Where was she? Had she gotten away, or had Cyclops and the Chimney found her? He knew he should've gone out to look for her, but he wouldn't know the first place to start, and he was in too much agony to move. He sank into bed and a black veil, half of pain and half of fatigue, descended over him.

***

There was a muffled wailing in his ears, and the white phantom was materializing in the corner of the room, lifting her shroud, getting closer, close enough that he could feel the shroud touching him, burning into his flesh with a dull, aching fire. He grasped for the familiar comfort of Elsie's hands, whimpering her name, but she wasn't there, those fiends might have taken her while he lay here, helpless, useless...

Then suddenly she was, with her sweet voice saying, "I'm here," and her soft hands on him, chasing the ghosts and the pain away. Almost weeping with relief, he wrapped himself around her as he had the first night they were together. She reached under his shirt, brushing against his bruises, but somehow it didn't hurt. He didn't dare exhale, afraid she might stop. Before long, he noticed her caress was changing, becoming more sensual, as she moved from his neck to his chest and lower and lower, her palms leaving scalding touches on his skin. "You were so brave, Arthur," she purred, her hot breath tickling his ear. "How could I ever thank you?" He wanted to say that he didn't do it for her gratitude, that her safety meant more to him than anything, but she silenced him by pressing her body against his, her skin warm and satiny smooth. He didn't remember when he had taken his shirt off, perhaps she had done it for him. He wanted to see her, but the room was dark, and he could only catch glimpses of her as she moved in and out of the yellow gaslight coming in through the window, tantalizing glimpses of her wet lips, her bare shoulders, her slender arms, her full breasts. He couldn't see her eyes.

He seized her wrists, pulled her to him, and sought her mouth with his. But those lips, which had parted so readily for him in the alley outside the gambling den, which had pressed to his cheek with such warmth, remained infuriatingly out of reach, while her hands continued to tease and torment him. "God, Elsie," he gasped, "let me..." Let him what? He couldn't find the words. He was close, so close, if he could only touch her, really touch her, feel himself inside her...

"Arthur," she panted. Her voice changed, becoming more urgent. "Arthur! Arthur, wake up!"

Then her fingers scraped across his cheek, which stung, and her hands were no longer on his erection, but on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to realize that Elsie, the real Elsie, still in her evening gown, was leaning over him, her hands cool on his burning skin, her eyes wide with worry. The arousal he'd felt in the dream remained, a knot of frustration in his trousers. Fumbling, Arthur pulled the sheet across his lap to cover himself, just as Elsie lifted him up to check for injuries.

She drew a sharp breath upon seeing the cut on his cheek. "My God."

"Looks worse than it is," he croaked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She went to rekindle the fire. "I've been waiting at the corner of the street."

"What? For how long?" The idea that she had been on the street, shivering and frightened, while he was up here, fantasizing about her, made Arthur want to die of mortification.

"Only an hour or so. I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner," she said. "I had to make sure they didn't follow you here."

"No, there is no need to apologize," he said quickly, taking her hand. "I'm just glad that you are safe."

She smiled, gave his hand a reassuring little pat, and moved to put the kettle on. She then opened her bag and pulled out a jar of some sort of ointment and a bottle of brandy. Arthur raised an eyebrow upon seeing it.

"Have you had that the whole time?" he asked.

"Don't even think about it," she chided. "It's for your wound."

Arthur watched her bustling about and felt the scorching flames of desire quieting down to warm embers. This was Elsie, the Elsie he knew, solid and practical and indomitable and kind, not the uncanny seductress of his dream. And she wasn't any less alluring. Perhaps even more so, because she was real.

Chapter 9