#semi-angsty romance stuff

[pokemonvillage]

Title: Birds of a Feather Characters: Volo, Akari AO3 Link: (Here) Word Count: 2868 Warnings: Shippy! My take on Akari. Spoilers for events after defeating the Fifth Lord and Mission 13, and if you squint/know what you're looking for, spoilers for the whole game.

In a ‘harsh, cruel world’ where you had to struggle to survive, fit in, or get tossed out to the ravenous fangs of the wilds… Who could trust you if you were deemed an outsider? Who could you trust?

The first day of her exile had been spent wandering with no recourse, turned away by those she hoped she could trust. The first night had been little better; she’d wasted the day supplicating for aid and couldn’t make even the most basic shelter, despite those red skies casting an eerie glow over everything.

And then Volo found her, sometime in those hours between late and early. His familiar smile, his kindness, the ready way he spoke to her without fear, blame, or reservation… The dam broke, the tears came, and embarrassingly (in retrospect) she couldn’t stop herself from hugging him. When was the last time she’d hugged anyone? Other than her Pokemon, months. She used to give her mom a hug every time she saw her! Her friends, too. Needless to say, people in Hisui weren’t exactly used to such sudden displays.

He accepted it kindly enough though, touching a hand atop her head and saying nothing as he let her have her moment. Where would she have been without him? Yes, she had her Pokemon, she could have found a way to survive, but it’d have been hard and time-consuming, and would wear her down in every way possible.

They made their way to Cogita’s hideaway, made introductions, settled on the most basic accommodations. Exhausted as she was, Cogita opted to wait until the morning to speak on the weighty matters of duty and what must be done next.

So her second night in exile -the first at Cogita’s retreat- Volo set up his little tent bedecked in Ginkgo Guild colors. It was no bigger or more elaborate than the ones the Survey Corps used, but plenty enough for them both to sleep, he assured her. She was so exhausted that she couldn’t offer much in the way of even polite resistance, or ‘worry about the implications’. 

Volo sat just under the further edge of the tent, a variety of papers and old books splayed around his lap. He poured over them by the light of the campfire with a weighty focus she could feel, but was too tired to comprehend before she inevitably dozed off. 

The third night, however, with a clearer goal in mind and a renewed sense of purpose, she sat up under the tent, hugging her knees and staring into the campfire. Haruki was curled up at her side, one of his long ribbons curled loosely, almost idly -but certainly with purpose- around her ankles as he lightly snoozed. 

“Shall we get an early start in the morning then? I’m afraid I don’t think that red sky will give us the luxury of taking our time,” Volo mused as he moved to hunker down beside her, words never accusing or harsh, always with an air of levity. 

“Yeah, probably a good idea to get a move on it,” she nodded, not taking her eyes away from the fire for a moment. But then she turned her gaze towards him with a smile, feeling that innate relief and comfort that always seemed to come with his presence. “Thank you again, Volo. You know, if this really works, you’ll be a hero,” she said with complete honesty, but also a hint of playful teasing. He blinked at her, eye wide and brow raised high.

“How exactly do you imagine that? You’re the one who’ll be having to face these trials, might I remind you.” 

“And it’s not as if anyone else would have been able to point me to Cogita’s doorstep, and gotten me the information on these trials,” she gave a firm nod of her head, “Nope, it’s all thanks to you.”

“Haha… I suppose that is true,” he chuckled quietly, thoughtful for a beat before he continued. “Though I’m more than happy to leave all future accolades to you. After all, I’m merely interested in-”

“The ruins,” her voice overlapped with his, laced with a laugh. His own laughter followed suit. 

“You know me too well,” he said praisingly, but in the back of her mind there was a blip of a thought: that she didn’t know him well enough at all. Not nearly as much as she wanted to, at least. 

Though, that was probably for the best. All of this stuff with the rift seemed connected with her, of course, but once this was solved, and she’d sought out all Pokemon as she was told… she’d be going back home, right? It wasn’t like she was avoiding making friends or any close connections, and she didn’t think she could have stopped it if she wanted to, but she was constantly aware that one day she would go home and leave all of this behind. At least, that was what she hoped. Or what she thought she hoped… 

For a while there, she’d been getting very comfortable with life here. She thought she was a part of Jubilife Village now… But now she had to wonder, how much of it had just been polite masks of friendship and civility, and how much doubt and mistrust had still lived on beneath those masks? Living in exile definitely made it feel a bit easier to want to go home these days. 

Part of her didn’t care so much about having her name and deeds slandered, she knew what she’d done, and why she’d done it, even if she didn’t always have the best answers or reasons, none of it had been out of malice or ill intent. But it still hurt… To have fought so hard, to have so many wounds marring her body for these people, and to be so easily cast out, as if on a whim. Even if she told herself ‘she understood’ why, it didn’t change the weight or the feeling of betrayal. 

“Vee…” Haruki nudged his head against her thigh, the ribbon around her ankles hugging her, soothing away some of the dark clouds in her heart. With a wry smile, she reached over to stroke her hand between his ears. 

“You alright? You got really quiet…” Volo spoke softly, and she nearly started at the sensation of his fingers delicately brushing the strands of her hair back from her face. 

“Oh, sorry…” shaking her head, she felt her cheeks warm as she sat up straighter. Yeah, she’d completely zoned out there for a minute, though maybe she could just chalk that up to the exhaustion and trauma. “What were we saying?” 

His lips slightly pinched, he tilted his head at her with a thoughtful hum. “Nothing important, I’m more curious what’s on your mind now.” 

It felt gently like concern, and she both appreciated that and… felt apologetic for it. He had already done so much for her, after all… 

“It’s nothing, really, just… still kind of coming to grips with it all,” she shrugged and stretched her arms out over her knees, trying to get fully back in her body as opposed to in her head. “There’s not really any time for that though, I know.” 

He was quiet for another brief moment, before he shifted a little, in a way that seemed almost to accept what she’d said and move along. His hand reached up to remove his cap, the other smoothing over his hair briefly before he fiddled with the hat in both hands. 

For just a split second, she instead made a different realization: he was fidgeting. Was he nervous about something?

“It’s a harsh, cruel world, isn’t it…?” he said very softly, and she couldn’t make out much from his expression in profile, that one silver eye locked on the simple patterns and threads of his cap. “No matter how much you do for them, how presentable you are to their expectations, you’ll always be an ‘outsider’ first.” 

And then, she had the sudden inkling that she was on the precipice of understanding… Just why he kept very carefully measured distances between himself and others. Polite, smiling, friendly, quick with a joke or a helping hand, but rarely did it seem to go much deeper. The people of Jubilife or the Celestica people, or even the other Ginkgo Guild merchants… Cogita, too, or so it seemed. 

She remembered when he’d found her napping in the Fieldlands that one day, not long after she’d first arrived. He’d extended cautious concern to her, but now she realized… He understood how hard this world could be. He had at least half expected her to be dead. 

And in a ‘harsh, cruel world’ where you had to struggle to survive, fit in, or get tossed out to the ravenous fangs of the wilds… Who could trust you if you were deemed an outsider? Who could you trust?

Suddenly, she felt very cold, and very lonely, and hugged her knees tighter. 

 “I think… that’s why it’s important to stick together,” she spoke in an almost helplessly small voice, her words feeling more like a desperate, foolishly hopeful prayer rattling coldly in her hollow chest. They were supposed to be warm, kindling to chase away the chill. “When we find the people we really connect with.” 

It was a simple, straightforward sentiment, one you could find anywhere. But she was talking to him, and she knew she was talking to him, because in this moment there was recognition. That all along, perhaps, he’d seen a bit of himself in her, and maybe that was why he’d always been a little kinder to her. Maybe that was why, even though it made him fidget with some discomfort, he opened up and gave voice to one tiny sliver of himself he didn’t allow others to see or hear. 

She felt him looking at her, and shyly raised her gaze to meet his. Again, she couldn’t quite make out what he might have been thinking, except that he seemed to be thinking deeply. Maybe he’d call her naive, or foolish. 

It wasn’t like she expected much… Almost all she wanted was a friend, someone who could accept her. And she would do the same, she’d never had a problem making friends after all… But she couldn’t help fear that he would laugh, or dismiss her, or turn her away. That she would lose the last warm, human connection she had.

The cool tips of his fingers touched the side of her face, and a shiver ran down her spine. For just a minute she couldn’t process this gesture or the reaction; some part of her brain tried, but failed. But then he was leaning closer, and her heart suddenly thudded against her rib cage as all parts of her brain were instead scattered into a frenzy. Surely he wasn’t- Was he? 

His eyes closed, and she felt his lips touch hers before her eyes fluttered shut as well. So sweet and soft - brief, but the moment lingered lazily around them. He didn’t push deeper for more, but instead slowly drew back, his hand drifting lower to rest against the side of her neck, thumb brushing her chin. 

“I…” his voice cracked slightly for how small it was, before he swallowed and gave a small shake of his head, close enough that the strands of his hair tickled her face. “I’m sorry, that was…” he mechanically pulled his hand back, and sat straighter. 

But she grabbed his hand and leaned back in, kissing him again. She didn’t want him to apologize, she just wanted him to keep kissing her. And she knew damn well she shouldn’t have. Hadn’t she just been telling herself she was going to leave after all of this, that it was better not to get too involved with people? But she also knew there wasn’t any helping matters where the heart was concerned. 

And how… How could she want to leave if she was falling in love with him?

Then, however, she felt what he’d probably felt; a rise of embarrassment at how sudden and forward this all was, and jerked back, face red. 

“Sorry- uh, I mean…” she shook her head, and he laughed - bright and jovial. 

“Perhaps we’re both getting a little ahead of ourselves?” he suggested with a smile, his hand holding onto hers. “Though I suppose I am the one who started it,” playfully, he gave a wave of his other finger. “I’ll accept any punishment you deem fit, Miss Akari.” 

Right, it was probably a rather serious offense in these times, wasn’t it? But she just laughed and shook her head, grateful for his levity, feeling a very real weight lifting off of her heart. Though, he was probably right, they were probably getting at least a little ahead of themselves. 

“Hmm, I’ll have to think up an acceptable punishment to fit the crime,” she grinned teasingly. No, she wasn’t going to call attention to the fact she’d kissed him back so they were pretty much even. “I’ll be merciful though, so don’t worry too much.”

“Truly, you are too kind,” he placed his hand over his chest and gave a bow of his head, and she laughed some more.

“Syl…!” beside her, Haruki chirped up, and Akari blushed as her laughter turned sheepish, petting him.

“Oh geez, I forgot we had an audience here,” she chuckled, “Don’t worry about me, Haruki, I’m feeling better now.” Which she said naturally, as Haruki was often very in tune to her emotions, and she wanted to simply reassure him. And not thinking at all that she was giving a rather obvious confession to just how happy that simple kiss had left her. 

Haruki was appeased though, giving her a happy little cheer and nudge of his head before settling back down to snooze. 

“Maybe he’s worried I’ll put him out of his job,” Volo teased musingly with a smirk, and Akari blinked back at him, taking just a moment to puzzle what he’d said and what she’d said together, before she felt that heat return to her face. 

“Haha, don’t be silly,” she shook her head, “Both of you are irreplaceable.” It was a simple enough thing to admit, even if it was still a little embarrassing. 

“Irreplaceable, huh?” he repeated, that surprised look on his face again, almost like she’d said something truly bizarre. For just a split second he went still again, gaze shifting away, and she thought it felt very similar to when he’d been fidgeting with his hat before. 

“Well, regardless… I had just wanted to say…” he spoke haltingly for a second, before he found his stride, “I agreed with what you said before. That we should stick together. After all, with my knowledge and your skills, I daresay we’ll accomplish much.”

“Like saving the world,” she said with a laugh and shake of her head, hugging her knees again. He was so close, she wanted to just… lean over against him, but managed to refrain. 

“But before we can hope to accomplish anything, I think you ought to get some rest. It’ll be you and your Pokemon facing the trials of the lakes, after all. Though, of course I’ll be cheering you on.”

Her gaze turned to the red skies as he spoke of rest and trials, sobering her slightly. 

“Mmm, yeah, all right,” she sighed and started moving to get herself laid down for sleeping. Yawning and half-asleep, Haruki followed suit. “But,” she spoke as she shifted around, “just you being with us is more than enough… It really does mean a lot to me, you know?” 

After all that exchange about outsiders and acceptance and sticking together, she was pretty sure he did. 

“I know,” he answered quietly, and she gave a small laugh to herself.

“Maybe you’re my good luck charm.”

“I’m afraid buttering me up won’t get you any discounts, my dear.”

She gave another laugh, curled up on her side with Haruki curled up against her stomach, watching as he pulled a book out from his bag. Though she might have told him he ought to get some rest too, it was probably for the best, or her thoughts and nerves might get the better of her. The former were already bouncing all over, thinking not about trials or red skies or exile, but kissing him again. Holding his hand again. Butterflies in her stomach thinking about him lying close to her, despite them each having their own bedroll. 

But rather than him falling into that steady focus while reading by the campfire she’d witnessed a few times by now since she’d known him, he shifted around towards her, leaning on one hand. Her heart thudded quietly once more, awed by the sight of him silhouetted in the glow of the fire, and that faint red glow from the night sky. 

“Rest well, Akari. I’ll see you in the morning.” 

That was obvious, of course, but the sentiment behind those words weren’t lost on her. Perhaps she presumed too much, but what else could she read from them? ‘I’m here. And I’ll be here. You can count on that.’ One of the few things that she could rely on, and the comfort she took in hearing it was not small as she hugged Haruki a little tighter to her with a smile. 

“Mm, you get some rest too…” she replied softly, and with a faint smile he turned back. “Good night, Volo.”

[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.

[1d1195]

Most III

Read Most here | ~ 6.1k words

From me: I might be changing this from 5 parts to 6 parts 🎉 I wanted to get further in this section, but felt like a good place to stop as well.

Warnings: I think this part is more fluffy than the last couple, but of course there's some angsty stuff hiding in here too.

Summary: There are about 200 question Harry wants answered. But he can barely ask one because she's home. She's got a lot of worries. But maybe most pressingly, is finding out if Harry's moved on.

*Six Weeks Earlier*

Addie and Carter were arguing over the inconsistencies of the movie they were watching with what was recorded in history. Addie was obviously winning. But she thought Carter just liked to see her riled up, like to have her argue just a little because she got so excited when she did. She was so passionate, and it made Carter’s face glaze over as she showed off her expertise.

As they quietly bickered on the sofa, she was at their little kitchen table.

She was looking at apartments for rent near her mom because Addie was probably holding out on asking Carter to move in solely because of her. There weren’t a ton of options—no real surprise on her end. She didn’t want to live in the same town as her school as she thought of post-graduation and how it would be flooded with students, and she thought that parties outside her apartment wouldn’t be conducive to writing the next best-selling romance novel. (If she could muster the strength to go through such a feat.)

Her quest brought her to another search engine, and it seemed as if it was the holy grail. Reasonable rent, new building, new appliances, semi-walkable—it seemed too good to be true.

It was. Truly.

There was one issue. But only one. Her browser’s location services were majorly off course—the last time she visited the website must have stored her old info. Back when she thought she was going to have to find a place of her own because her mom was going to move away, and she was going to need a way to stay close to Harry.

The location was the life and town she left behind were part of the new building’s address. Her email pinged with a message regarding her schedule for the semester. All online classes so she could focus on working and writing as much as possible.

For a second, she forgot. Forgot all about her heartache and the pain she probably caused. He was probably over it by then. She hadn’t forgotten, but she figured three years later, he must have. But there was this pull on her chest to call him. To tell him about the place. Hi baby! I found a place for us to live. Do you like it?

With a shake of her head, she pulled herself out of it and examined the floorplan.

Addie and Carter were still debating. “—The American Revolution is constantly blown out of proportion,” she told him knowingly.

It pained her to interrupt, but it was now or never. “Do you guys think I should still jump?” She asked quietly. They both turned to her. Tilted their heads in curiosity. Almost simultaneously. Carter turned away first, pausing their movie and Addie was already crossing the room to look over her shoulder.

“Oh,” she blinked. “Oh,” she looked at the address for the apartment building. “You... you want to go back?”

Carter followed over and smiled, sat next to her, squeezed her arm. “That’s awesome,” he smiled. “Of course we—”

“What about your classes?” Addie frowned. “We’re supposed to have a year.”

“Well, I can’t keep living here when you’re days away from asking Carter to move in,” she rolled her eyes. Carter chuckled.

“I’d pick you over him,” Addie grumbled.

“Hey!”

“Oh please,” she laughed shaking her head. “I would never make you make that choice... don’t you want to have weird shower sex without me around?”

Carter smirked, his cheeks turning red slightly as he looked at Addie knowingly. “Told you that you were too loud,” he winked, kissed her cheek, and headed to the kitchen to start something for dinner.

Addie glared at him for implying it was her fault. Then she stage-whispered. “He does this thing where he turns me so that the angle—”

“Addison.”

The girls giggled. Then she turned to her laptop again. “My schedule just came through. My classes are online... there’s no apartments by my mom or aunt...” she swallowed feeling the anxiety creep up from her stomach. It moved to her chest, then her throat making her voice quiet. “I just think... if I go now... and I see that he’s moved on then I can... I can too. A reset.”

Addie stared at someone who was sure to be one of the most beautifully talented, insanely intelligent, and incrediblysuccessful authors of the 21st century. She was so honored to have her in her life and be her best friend.

Even if she was an idiot. “You really think he would have moved on?” She wondered.

She shrugged, hovered her mouse over the link to apply for the apartment. “Wouldn’t you?”

There was a pause as Addie watched her. “I’m going to run to get some ingredients,” Carter said tugging Addie toward him for a swift kiss. He grabbed his keys off the counter, then kissed the top of her hair as well. It made her blush because quite frankly, other than flirting at the restaurant, she hadn’t had physical male affection in years and even Carter’s assuring hand squeezes made her a bit flushed at times.

There was nothing at the store; he didn’t need ingredients. She and Addie had gone shopping the day before for all the food they could ever want (at least for the week). But Carter was perfect, and he knew when they needed their girl time.

Addie took the notebook that resided at the end of their faux-dinner table. She kept it there for inspiration. She never knew when the mood would strike to write something and since her best writing was often done at the table—be it essays, some of her favorite ideas, or just a grocery list where her handwriting looked nice—she liked to have something to work from when she was stuck for a thought. Addie lifted the cover slowly. Her heart took off, terrified of someone else seeing her most personal thoughts. But instead, she stayed silent, and Addie pointed to the inside cover.

A heart with her name and Harry’s written in the center took up majority of the space.

“When’s this notebook from?”

A brief pause as she tried to date it from visual and handwriting. There were so many notebooks she owned it took a moment to figure out which was which. “I was... ten,” she swallowed.

Addie nodded and went to the coffee table. She removed a cup of tea off the cover, a few hundred rings lined the blue cover as if it were truly a coaster and not one of the notebooks that would be in a museum about her famed author-life hundreds of years from now. “When’s this one from?” She asked and held out the nearly identical inside cover—another heart bearing two names.

She didn’t need much time to identify this one—it truly was her favorite. The evidence and words that reflected the first time Harry told her he loved her were written within the pages. “Sixteen.”

Then she went to the bookshelf tucked in the corner of their main room. This notebook was wedged between copies of novels she refused to part with, even though they hadn’t been read in years and they weren’t necessarily her favorites, but they were a part of her love of writing and books throughout school and home: Of Mice and Men; Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry; Perks of Being a Wallflower; The Kite Runner. Books she didn’t think of as romances but books that made her feel. The purpose of the notebook that resided among those titles was to remember those feelings even if they were painful. “This one?” She wondered.

“Eight,” she whispered. She started that one when she read her first Babysitter’s Club novel. “But I wrote in it last week too,” after she finished Where the Crawdads Sing.

There on the inside cover was the same heart and same names as every other notebook.

“What about the one on your nightstand, for your dreams?” Addie asked.

She blinked, looked at her lap. Twenty-one... I bought it last week when I filled up the one before it that I used for dreams. I liked the green and gold pattern. It reminded me of his eyes. But Addie already knew all that. There was a picture of Harry on her fridge. The two of them on his final day of school, her arm around his waist and his draped around her shoulders. They were just kids there. Unknowing that a year later she would break both their hearts. Sometimes she looked at that picture and wondered what it would be like if she didn’t leave. Maybe she would still be in the very same spot. Because Harry would have grown tired of her and their hum-drum life.

“I know I didn’t move on, though, Addie.”

“He didn’t either,” Addie put her notebook back safely between The Princess Bride and My Antonia.

“Addie... you don’t know him.”

“You don’t write fifteen notebooks worth of love poems about a man that doesn’t love you even half as much. Even if he loved you an eighth the amount that you loved him, you would still have the greatest love story ever,” Addie was confident. Watched her friend wordlessly as she processed all that.

After several more seconds of silence, she finally answered her. “Twenty-seven,” she mumbled.

Addie stared at her in awe. She loved Carter, but truly, her best friend had the greatest love story she had ever heard. “Yeah, exactly.”

Her attention went back to the available apartments. She frowned as she looked at the screen. “They’re all fifth floor,” she closed her eyes. It seemed like an obstacle set out to change her mind. “Maybe I shouldn’t do it.”

Addie was back at the table and pushing her hands out of the way. “So you don’t go on the balcony. It’ll be fine. You’re not going to live there so you can lounge and sightsee the view, anyway. You’re going so you can go back to him,” she reminded her. Not quite ignoring her fears but making sure they didn’t hold her back. Addie clicked the link for the first apartment and began typing in her information as if it were her own; she wrote that she was ready to move in within a month. “What if he hasn’t moved on? What are you going to do if you’re wrong and I’m right?”

It seemed impossible. Harry was beautiful, loving, so kind. Perfect. Why wouldn’t he have moved on?

There was this little flutter in her chest. It felt the way birthday candles flickered when everyone was singing, and the cake was brought to sit before the guest of honor. She grabbed the book at the end of the table and jotted a note down about how hope was often described as a flicker of light in the dark. When all seemed lost. But no one ever mentioned how darkness often came right after a birthday wish. How hope was really nothing more than a flameless candle.

Because of what she just wrote, she blew out a deep breath. “I hope you’re right,” she whispered as she closed the notebook again hoping her wish would come true.

*Present*

It felt like he couldn’t get back to the station fast enough. He left his coffee behind in the truck; only two sips taken from it. But it turned out it couldn’t compare to the adrenaline he felt then. He left his wallet behind in his locker. That didn’t matter, either. He didn’t need it.

Nothing else mattered.

He barely said goodbye to anyone and left his coworker to tell the rest of the shift why he was rushing to get out of the station. Normally, he took off his uniform before leaving but the thought of not seeing her, or that she was already gone had him sprinting to his car in the lot. Instead of his change of clothes he remained in his standard-issued navy-blue pants and the flame-resistant boots. Fortunately, he chose the station’s T-shirt and not the more formal button down for the day. It was the smallest bit more comfortable and slightly less ridiculous to be out and about.

Maybe she was just a figment of my imagination. He thought to himself. But his partner saw her. So unless he was projecting said figment...

She really was home.

To further his torture, his car and flow of traffic refused to go faster than the speed limit. It was utterly infuriating for his cause. He wanted nothing more than to just be there beside her. Nonetheless, he returned to where he last saw her car; turned right onto the street at the light and drove until something looked like she could be there. His heart was racing faster than it had in years. Adrenaline and excitement rushing through his body, making him sweat with anxiety. But it felt good. Like it was the best thing. It felt like he had just finished running. It was pure joy.

She was home.

There was an apartment building that seemed entirely too tall for their town. But he pulled into the lot wondering if he could identify the car that he saw on the road. He pulled into the spot beside it once he saw it, his heart in his throat. Harry took a deep breath, closed his eyes and tried not to panic. Scaring her off was his worst fear and if he did so, he might lose his mind worse than he ever had.

There was a metallic sound that hit his ears as he opened the door. Like the way a garage door opened. By the end of the lot was a storage pod, door open, and the sight of her from behind. Harry thought he was going to cry but he swallowed the emotion down. Slowly, he walked over, still terrified to scare her.

She disappeared deeper into the pod, and he heard a crunching, scraping sound. As he approached, he realized she was trying to maneuver a loveseat sofa out of a truck all by herself. There was a small dolly on the ground outside the storage pod entrance and Harry wondered if she seriously intended on lifting all the heavy stuff on her own like this.

“Fuck,” she hissed. The end of the sofa she was holding simultaneously dropped to the floor of the truck. “Stupid fucking—”

“Are you okay?” Harry asked instinctively. He went right into the storage pod as if he was moving in alongside her and was joining her because he had stepped out to grab something from his car and was just returning. It wasn’t the grand reunion he had planned, but to be fair, he hadn’t really thought about this moment in a long time.

Even the way her voice sounded when she cursed was sweeter than he could have imagined. She stuck her finger between her lips due to whatever injury she had inflicted upon herself. She shook her head with irritation. “I swear I’m a magnet for those stupid staples they put on the fabric and frame,” she inspected her finger and then pinched it into her hand. Effortlessly, he grabbed her hand. Like he hadn’t missed a day of touching her. He cupped her hand in his, inspected her finger himself. “This is like the tenth time this has happened to me.”

“I think y’need a new couch then, kitten,” he chuckled. It wasn’t his intention to just fall back into the way it was before she left. But it was without thinking—instinctive and natural. It made her heart ache to hear her pet-name from his lips. She sighed and gently tugged her hand from Harry’s and shook her hand, ridding herself of the minor pain. Harry turned and looked at the variety of furniture within the storage pod. Given he had been to her house no less than one million times, he recognized the couch he had also grown up with. The coffee table that they put their feet on when they watched movies. The table in her kitchen where he had so many dinners with her, he couldn’t count it. “Y’mum coming back?” He murmured terrified to hear the answer but desperate to know why he was seeing her in the flesh after all the years between them.

She shook her head. “No... she’s living closer to my aunt now in this tiny one-bedroom place. So, she had a ton of extra furniture. This is all hers. I’m just picking what I like best.”

His heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest and jump into hers and live there, the way it was supposed to for all this time. “Y’moving back?” He tried to keep his voice even, so it didn’t sound so hopeful in case he was wrong. But he hoped. He hoped so badly.

“Yeah,” his heart swelled as she nodded shyly. But then her face contorted into a strange expression. Harry tried to place it but he hadn’t ever seen it on her face. Especially not in front of him. Was it...anxiety? About him? That seemed wrong. “Um... if that’s okay?” She asked looking at the ground briefly before gazing back at him.

Why she was asking didn’t bother him nearly as much as it should have. How she could possibly think he was going to decide such a fate was beyond him. But he was immediate in his answer; anything to get rid of the weird expression on her face that made him realize she was thinking about how she needed permission to live in the same town again. He nodded quickly. “’Course!” He almost shouted it. Cleared his throat awkwardly. “I mean... s’not my decision really... but... It’ll be... nice t’have y’back,” he was so worried he was going to scare her off. He was glad he wasn’t holding her hand any longer because he was sure his hands were sweating something fierce.

“Yeah? That’s good. I’m...” she took a deep breath. “I’m really glad I’m back,” she looked at him with those beautiful eyes that he loved more than anything. That gentle smile that made his heart race.

“Good,” he murmured because if he said anything more, he was worried he would cry or ruin whatever moment of bliss this was. She was real and in front of him.

“Can I help y’move this?” He asked.

“Absolutely not,” she shook her head.

He frowned and tilted his head at her. “You are obviously getting off work and I have made you do way too many furniture moves over the years and I don’t think it would be—”

Harry pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a message to his group chat with their friends. “The rest will be here in a bit.”

“No, they’re not,” she looked alarmed. “Harry, you’re joking.”

“Y’know them, kitten. They’re going t’be so excited—”

“Harry, they hate me.”

They didn’t have a lot of time alone. Harry gave them a forty-five-minute window to themselves. It wasn’t much, but he didn’t want to overwhelm her.

Professing his undying love for her after their time apart and begging for her back... he was hoping he wouldn’t manage that in forty-five minutes.

But the idea that anyone could hate her, when he was so completely, wholly, unbelievably in love with her even after three years of not speaking and nothing but memories replaying in his head... “They don’t hate you.” She looked at him nervously, like when they joined a lake party and people pressured her to jump off the plateau leading to the water. “Kitten,” he shook his head. “They missed you. They’ll be thrilled to see you.” She shrugged, unbelieving. “I promise,” he assured her and began distracting the pair of them before he said something ridiculous (even though I love you was so close to the tip of his tongue, it was absurd).

Harry took the end of the sofa that had snagged her finger. “Can y’jus’ guide it for me, kitten?” He asked. She nodded and helped get it off and onto the dolly. It was something small, but an effortless reminder that they worked so well together. They barely spoke, practically reading the other’s mind after all this time as they maneuvered the couch out of the storage pod. Once on the dolly, they made their way for the building in silence. “Elevator?” Harry asked. She nodded, continuing the comfortable quietness. “What floor?” He asked.

“Fifth,” she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

His eyebrows rose in surprise. It felt like a hug that she hadn’t got from him in a long time. The feeling that he remembered something about her. Which was ridiculous—she remembered everything about him. “Y’didn’t ask for a lower floor?” He pouted.

“There were none,” she frowned.

“M’surprised y’agreed.”

“It’s a new apartment building,” she shrugged and shook her head. She felt like an idiot for saying that to him. He probably knew it was a new building. Probably did the safety inspection himself. “Anyway, there weren’t many options around here...” It took every bit of Harry’s crumbling restraint to not invite her to move in with him right then.

He missed her. That went without saying. Worried he would still say something outlandish, likea marriage proposal, he broached a different topic. “How... how was school?”

“Really good. But I only have a semester left because I took all the summer courses,” she explained. “They’re virtual and I... I really missed it here... so I figured... I figured it was time.”

His heart leapt. Praying that he was one of the things she missed but desperately clung to his semblance of coolness. “Miss Smarty Pants,” he murmured with a smile. Then she laughed. Harry thought he was cured. All that time between them was nothing. She laughed, she smiled. She was his best friend. She seemed older, more mature, and somehow more gorgeous than he could have ever imagined. In fact, she was so pretty he felt his mouth move before he could think about it.

“Y’look beautiful,” he couldn’t help but say it as they got to the floor and she gestured down the hall for her apartment.

“That’s very sweet. I lost a lot of weight running around campus and work without a car,” she admitted. “Well... enough weight to...”

Harry sighed, shook his head. Wishing he could squeeze the insecurity out of her like a wet sponge. “Your weight has never had anything t’do with why y’were beautiful, kitten.”

The way her cheeks turned pink made him feel sick. Didn’t people compliment her while she was gone?

Fortunately, he didn’t have to suffer thinking about her lack of compliments for long. “You look great, Harry. But you always did. It was incredible seeing you on the firetruck,” she smiled fondly. “I’m... I’m really proud of you.”

The very pride she felt went directly to his heart, swelled in his chest, and bloomed warmth all through his body. Once more he tried to feign his excitement and overwhelming urge to wrap her in a hug he decided to distract himself. “Where do y’want it?” She took a deep breath and shrugged.

“I don’t know... maybe... against this wall for now, I can move it later.”

“Don’t hurt yourself, love,” he frowned as he settled it into position. He was already worried about how he would manage to invite himself back into her apartment to prevent any self-injury—especially from the staples in her furniture.

“I won’t,” she promised. “I was... going to have Lauren come by once I get settled a little bit. She could help.”

“S’nice. I see Lauren a lot at the coffee shop. M’sure she’ll be happy to see you,” he smiled sweetly.

With the sofa in place, it felt the slightest bit awkward. She worried she would do something insane, like kiss him and put her arms around him like she was his necklace. So instead, she thanked him. “Thank you,” she sighed. “For helping.”

“Of course, love. M’happy to see you. S’been...” he trailed off and shook his head. “Where’s the rest of your stuff?” He asked curiously. He also asked so he wouldn’t continue the end of his sentence about having not seen her in ages.

“Ugh,” she groaned and rubbed her hands over her face. “My storage unit is delayed naturally. There was a mix-up and it’s on it’s way cross country currently, no way to stop it so it’ll be...” she shook her head. “Ages. Until I see it. Fortunately, I have a good chunk in my car... but all my books, shelves, a ton of stuff I’ve collected since college. I don’t even have a glass to offer you a water,” she pouted.

He chuckled. “Oh... s’okay. M’fine, kitten.”

“It’s the principle of the thing, Harry.”

He smiled and looked around again. “S’nice here. The balcony is pretty.”

“I guess... but I don’t plan on going on the balcony unless necessary... this fear of mine is ridiculous. Can’t even enjoy all 804 square feet of it.” She glanced out the door to the balcony. “I don’t think we ever had a building this tall around here. The view, from what I can see, is so pretty. A new way of seeing our pretty little town like this.”

Harry’s heart fluttered erratically over the way she said we and our. But he tried not to panic and instead made himself useful. “Do y’want t’go out there t’get a better look?”

She shook her head. “No way. I’ll probably hyperventilate or throw up or something equally embarrassing.”

He snorted, smiling easily. “I’ve seen you throw up before,” he reminded her.

“I’m well aware, Harry,” she groaned. “That was so gross. Literally the worst. I don’t know why you stayed.”

“I agree it was the worst, but because I thought y’were dying. Not because y’were gross or anything,” he shrugged. “C’mon, I’ll show you,” he moved next to her at the window and unlocked the slider, pushed it out of the way. She watched him step over the little threshold and held his hand out to her.

It was the reason she couldn’t go on a roller coaster by herself or jump off the rope swing at the lake like all their friends did in school. She couldn’t help her mom hang up Christmas lights on the house and always paid Harry to do it for her. Her fear of heights felt irrational. Only a small percentage feared it. Harry was always quick to remind her that the small percentage still accumulated to hundreds of millions of people.

But even still, he held his hand out, waiting patiently and expectantly. Somehow, it was the easiest thing in the world to trust him. The feeling was electric, holding his hand. It was as if no time had passed at all. As if she had said ‘see you tomorrow’ instead of, ‘it’s too far for us.’

He squeezed her hand as she took cautious steps onto the balcony. A measly hand hold. Harry had touched and kissed parts of her that would never see a drop of sunlight but somehow the way he held her hand was more intimate. His palm pressed to hers, warm and familiar. His thumb stroked the back of her hand. It was perfect. It was slow and felt so safe. It was unreal how easily it was to revert to the time before. Harry was there, so she was going to be okay.

“Watch y’step,” he said softly. “S’a little uneven there,” he scuffed his shoe on the floor. “S’probably a support beam,” he explained. She nodded.

“I’ll have to put a little patio rug out here and a table and chairs so no one trips.”

“That sounds so cute. Can y’put a grill out here?”

“A grill?”

“I don’t know. I was thinking about that pound cake bread y’like with the strawberries? Or jus’ marshmallows.”

She smiled eager to hear more about what he remembered and what came to mind so readily. “Uh... I have to read the lease agreement. I’m not sure. Probably a fire hazard. Wouldn’t want you rushing down here because of me,” she giggled.

He smiled and squeezed her hand. He glanced back over the railing and admired the view for a moment. “M’not sure about the whole town, but a good chunk of it.”

“Is that the fire station way back that way,” she pointed and then put her free hand on the railing. Harry stood beside her, following the direction of where she pointed, proud that she was able to stand there without fear it seemed. It made him happy she still felt safe with him. “Yeah, I think so... Mum’s house is...” he pointed the other way. “Y’see the blue house? Four streets back from that.”

“Cool,” she grinned. “Do you live with her still?”

He chuckled. “No... I live...” he squinted a bit and pointed back towards the fire station. “You see the shopping plaza?” He asked. She nodded. “Two streets behind it. The small one.”

“It’s cute... I think,” she giggled again which made Harry chuckle quietly. “I like the trees.”

“I want t’put a hammock in and—” he released her hand to speak and gesture what his plan was with two of the trees in his yard. But she gasped the second he released her hand. Nearly tripped as she stumbled back away from the railing. Harry caught her around the waist before she could fall on the uneven ground. “Hey, careful—”

“Don’t let go,” she reminded him turning toward him slightly but trying to maintain as much distance as she could; given he was holding her around the waist, and she refused to let go. It wouldn’t be fair to him to get too cozy in his arms the way she would have a few years prior.

“Oh,” he swallowed. His heart raced with nerves and anxiety. Part of him felt shame for not realizing what that would do to her. He should have known. He knew how nervous she got about heights. Especially from the level they were on. “M’sorry, kitten.”

She swallowed; her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “No, I’m sorry. I was just... I don’t—”

“No, s’okay,” he promised. “I won’t let go,” he assured her and took her hand again (even though he would have preferred to have her stay in his embrace). “I wasn’t thinking.”

She bit the inside of her lip. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, but m’sorry. Didn’t mean t’scare you, love.”

Harry was way too nice. If he was smart, he would have pushed her off the side of the balcony for making him so sad the last few years. “It’s really okay, Harry. I know you didn’t—”

“But I should have—”

“Harry,” she squeezed his hand silencing his sentence. “You don’t need to apologize. I promise. I’m just nervous, you know.”

It was quiet and Harry sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

They could have stayed on that balcony for the rest of their lives if it meant Harry was going to hold her hand and they would stay rooted in that spot. They were silent and watched their not-so-little town, filled with bustling cars and people. “It feels bigger,” she whispered.

“Well, y’did go t’a school with the population of sixteen people and a moose.” The laughter that came from her mouth was like pure magic. Harry swore he never heard anything sound so sweet.

Once they both stopped giggling, she wanted to know more about his hammock and what he planned to do with his yard and other things. She wanted to hear about his career and school and everything in between. As she was about to ask, Harry saw the cars pull into the lot.

Sarah and Eleanor in one vehicle, the boys in the other. “C’mon,” he murmured and pulled her back inside. Silently, they made their way down in the elevator to the parking lot once more. The five of them were grouped together near the back of the two cars, huddled together conferring.

“I bet it’s a creepy shrine. Like he’s going to do a séance to get in touch with her,” Louis suggested.

“She’s not dead, Louis,” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “I’m just worried that he’s finally gone off the deep end,” she frowned.

“Well, it can’t be worse than him asking Lauren where she is all the time,” Sarah grumbled bitterly. Mitch put a hand on her back and gently rubbed the bitter tension from her muscles soothingly.

“Who knows, but he asked for us to bring him pizza, so that’s a good sign, right?” Niall asked.

“They’re going to hate me,” she whispered under her breath as they approached quietly.

“Shh,” he squeezed her hand.

“Can I just say that I’m really worried we’re going to have to call the authorities about him?” Louis asked releasing a massive breath, like it was painful to say the words out loud.

“No, I was thinking the same thing,” Sarah nodded in agreement. “It’s right around the time she left and you know how he gets—”

“The first year was the worst,” Mitch reminded everyone.

“You guys really thought I would text you and tell y’where t’find m’body?” Harry asked. They all turned to the pair of them. Their words disappeared into the air. Silence spread between all of them.

“Holy shit,” Louis whispered.

“Pretty weird of him to ask you to bring pizza if that were the case,” she swallowed nervously. For her whole life these people were her best friends and she abandoned them as much as she abandoned Harry, their town, and everything that was good. She looked at the five pairs of eyes that were unblinking as they processed what was happening.

Niall dropped the pizza. “Oh my God,” he was first. He broke into a quick stride and wrapped his arms around her the way Harry dreamed of doing for the last forty-five minutes. He kissed the side of her head and Harry was just so overwhelmed with jealousy he tried to focus his attention on anything but the way he felt utter dread seeing Niall hold and kiss her the way he had ached to do so for the last three years. “How are you, princess?” He asked.

“I’m okay, how are you?”

“Out of the way!” Eleanor hip-checked Niall before he could answer and wrapped her arms around her the same way that Niall had. Further fueling how jealous Harry was. “Make yourself useful, Niall. Order more pizza!”

“I don’t even have plates or enough seats to have you all in and—”

“Did you think we would get all fancy?” Sarah asked and gently pushed Eleanor aside to get her own hug. “We’ll sit on the floor and eat off the boxes.” Mitch was next and murmured something in her ear that Harry wanted to know desperately, solely because her cheeks turned that pretty shade of pink so much.

Louis was last. Because as hurt as Harry was, Louis was a close second. All of them mourned for their friend in their own ways—even though she wasn’t truly gone. But naturally they put their own grief aside for Harry. But she was back now. Sure, Harry was ready to forgive her instantly, but Louis would be a harder sell it seemed. “Hi,” she whispered. Louis looked at her pensively, making her gulp.

“Hi,” his voice was curt and filled with distrust.

She looked at the ground. “Pretty crazy about Messi, hmm?” She looked back up at him.

“Don’t tempt me, darling,” he grumbled and finally pulled her into a hug. He kissed the side of her face and held her for a long time. Louis also whispered something in her ear, and she nodded against him.

“Well,” Eleanor clapped her hands together. “I was wondering why Harry said we needed to wear comfy clothes. Point us in the right direction, babe. Let’s get you moved back home.”

“You okay?” Sarah asked quietly, taking up the rear with Harry as they moved toward her storage pod. Peppering her with questions and falling back into old jokes and laughter within seconds.

Harry nodded, his heart finally started to feel whole. “Yeah," she turned back and met his gaze with a gentle smile. A smile that made him melt and feel like he could fly if she asked. "Finally.”

--

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[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for...

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1. Hi! This is weirdly specific but I’m looking for modern AU fics set in China, written by Chinese authors preferably because I’m hoping to find the very accurate, realistic representations of China, with all those little “daily life” details that make the setting feel more real. I hope this makes sense, and thank you in advance for your help! ❤️

There's definitely Chinese diaspora collection(s). Give me a minute and I'll see if I can find some for #1 Like this one

I am not sure how many of these are set in China but it's a collection of non canon-set fic recs made by Chinese diaspora fans in two different Diaspora servers

this is another diaspora collection!

The Fifth Type of Non-Contact Force by Caixx (Not Rated, 83k, WangXian, Modern AU, High School, Slice of Life, Slow Burn, Fluff and Humor, Actually Somewhat Canon, Mutual Pining, Horny Teenagers, Angst with a Happy Ending, Non-Graphic Smut)

oh #1 even modern day cdrama are not all that accurate for daily life stuff. If you're feeling like branching out from wangxian fic to a cdrama with modern china daily life vibes that isn't 100% romance. Can try "Heart of Genius" it's a time/parallel world travel to the past.

~*~

2. Hello again!!! Thanks for the recs, they're so goooood! I recently read two fics that involve catfishing, how to fall in love with a catfish: a guide by wei wuxian (disaster rat) by bwyn, Yuisaki & we'll get him falling for a stranger (or a catfish) by sweetlolixoand I'm hooked! I'll definitely recommend them to everyone!

Ok so I'm craving for more catfish fics. Preferably wangxian but I'd love Sangcheng or Xicheng too! Thanks again ❤️ @dizzydandelionsandhyperhydrillas

~*~

3. ITMF: I'm very, very picky about modern aus but figured I'd give it a try. I want a modern au where they're already adults, it's angsty, and they're in character. My fave is when the angst kind of mirrors canonverse (ie WWX being "disowned," framed for something or disappearing, miscommunication, whatever so long as it isn't kind of just random melodrama) but I'll also just accept if the angst is in a breaking up -> getting back together/exes to lovers arc. Sorry if this is too picky!

These Things Stay the Same by notevenyou (E, 29k, WangXian, Modern AU, Kid Fic, Canon-Typical Violence, Minor Character DeathInjury, Natural Disasters, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hospitalization, Accidents) kinda

These all involve breakups/canon-level misunderstandings:

Tempo Rubato by Spodumene (E, 107k, WangXian, Modern AU, Angst with a Happy Ending, Romance, Persuasion au, Separations, Mutual Pining, Depression, Miscommunication, Emotional Roller Coaster, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Reconciliation, Eventual Smut, Jane Austen Fusion, Underage Kissing)

💖 Pentimento. by orange_crushed (E, 73k, wangxian, modern, college/university au, art conservation, museums, pining, not actually unrequited love, angst w/ happy ending, misunderstandings, smut, major character injury, hospitalization, hurt/comfort, past incarceration, forgery)

Waiting for Spring series by thievinghippo (E, 225k, WangXian, Modern AU, Mutual Pining, Pining while fucking, slight angst, Happy Ending, for a baseball fic, there’s not a lot of baseball, Sports, Baseball)

Dirty Little Secret by ilip13 (E, 67k, wangxian, Modern, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unreliable Narrator, Post-Break Up, Friends with benefits / Exes with benefits / Fuck-buddies, Implied Cheating, Also possibly some cheating kink, Self-Worth Issues, WWX is strong with the self-hatred here, trigger warning: suicide and mental illness (background of minor character), Graduate Students, Liberal use of the word 'fuck', Semi-Nonlinear Storytelling)

The Right to Care by travelingneuritis (E, 61k, wangxian, Modern, Mood Whiplash, musician LWJ, nanny WWX, Developing Relationship, Breakup, Texting, Pining, Eventual Happy Ending, Adoption, Child Abuse, abuse intervention, Miscommunication)

moonlight falls Series by RoseThorne (T, 19k, WangXian, Modern, Found Family, Corporate Espionage, Bunnies, Adoption, Family, Family Feels, Family Fluff, References to Depression, Anxiety, Blind Character, POV Third Person, POV WWX, Confrontations, Bad Parent LQR, Dissociation, Mental Health Issues, Anniversary, Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Emotional Constipation, Communication Failure, JC is Bad at Feelings, JC is Trying, WWX Needs a Hug, Implied/Referenced Sex, Food Sex, Friendship, Reconciliation, Psychological Trauma)

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4. Hey, any fics where wwx's (and lwj's) parents are alive. Absolutely no omegaverse thanks

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5. Hi! I’m looking for modern AU wangxian and I’ve searched far and wide for new ones. I don’t have anything specific except I looking for multichapter / longer than 15K! If there’s anything not talked about enough and AMAZING or something new etc. If there are any authors that write modern AU wangxian I’d love to know. Thank you so much for your page!

once upon a time, 很久很久以前 by gentil-minou (Flyingsuits) (M, 40k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Canon Divergence, Transmigration, of the townwide variety, Amnesia, of the nearly everyone variety, Mystery, of the shenanigans variety, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Single Parent LWJ, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Minor Character Death, Angst with a Happy Ending) this is my fic, it's modern au and pretty new. still ongoing though, idk if that's a turn off for you

Just Ask Me To Stay by mrcformoso (M, 20k, WangXian, Modern AU, Former JZ/WWX, Minor NieLan, Minor XuanLi, No Powers, Dancer WWX, Musician LWJ, Roommates, Best Friends, Friends to Lovers, Break Up, Post-Break Up, Recovery, WWX Has Self-Esteem Issues, Fluff, Light Angst, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex, Domestic Fluff, LWJ Has a Big Dick, WWX Has a Breeding Kink, Size Queen WWX, Belly Bulge, Porn With Plot, WWX Has Friends, LWJ Has Friends, Hurt/Comfort, A lot of comfort, Romantic Comedy, Cuter story than the summary makes it out to be, Feel-good) bestfriends to lovers and oh my god they were roommates.

eyes closed for you by soultana (E, 36k, wangxian, modern cultivation, POV LWJ, Cultivator LWJ, WWX is a spirit/yao, Dreams vs. Reality, basically WWX haunts LWJ's dreams (lovingly), Sexual Tension, Pining, YLLZ is misunderstood, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Masturbation, WWX is a Tease, Getting Together, Supportive LXC, LQR Is So Done)

take my hand, will you share this with me series by doodlebutt (E, 137k, wangxian, JC/WQ, Modern, figure skating, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Angst with a Happy Ending, Major Character Injury, Recovery, Getting Together, Background Pregnancy, the mortifying ordeal of Talking About Your Feelings, sexually tense pair skating, and tbh. sexually tense everything else too, past trauma, public displays of affection aka canon wangxian behaviour, u dont need a sex tape when the cctv footage is Right There!, There Was Only One Bed, Pre-Relationship, TEEN WANGXIAN MY BELOVED, Semi-Public Sex, sleep deprivation and irresponsible decisions can be sexy sometimes, with additional warnings in start note, Domestic Fluff, Burnout, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, BSSR knows everything, angst! softness! tender yearning!, demi wwx)

Players gonna play by Scrippio (T, 41k, wangxian, JC/WQ, JYL/JZX, Modern, College/University au, Theater AU, Director WWX, Faculty advisor LWJ, grad student JC, Baker JYL, grad student WQ, Fluff, First Meeting, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Depression, WIP)

Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 108k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP)

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9. Hi! Hope you guys are okay <3

For your next itmf, I was hoping you could rec me something a bit more particular? Something that highlights Yi Ziyuan's abuse and makes wwx leave the Jiang sect for good. And then as time passes YZY tries to bring wwx down, or just regrets doing what she did. Can be modern, or not, I really don't mind. I just wanna see genius wwx standing up for himself and getting the love and appreciation he deserves!

Thank you again!! 🩷 @flexible-racoon

💖 Lessons relearned by Iamnotawriter (T, 44k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, Not Madam Yu Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inventor WWX, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, No Golden Core Transfer, YZY Bashing) It's not the focus of the fic, but it does feature characters reacting to YZY's abusive treatment of WWX & has her try to bring him down after he leaves the sect, though that part happens late in the fic

Debts of a Child series by Hauntcats (M, 115k, WangXian, dark, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters.)

If Wishes Were Donkeys by NightOwl1 (M, 61k, WIP, WangXian, SVSSS, Time Travel Fix-It, Case Fic, Mpreg, Fluff and Humor, Dysfunctional Jiāng Family, Bad Parent YZY, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Period-Typical Homophobia, Crossdressing, LWJ and WWX Have a Breeding Kink, It's All The System's Fault, Post-Canon, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Warning: JGS, Good Uncle LQR, LWJ and WWX Are LSZ's Parents, Inappropriate Humor, Family Feels) If Wishes Were Donkeys, kinda. YZY gets caught between her hatred of WWX and knowing he's talented when LWJ comes to get him to bring him back to Gusu as a bride, forcing her to accept a single copper coin and handing over the rights to all of WWX's inventions and blowing her top when it comes to light WWX's inventions are actually incredible

Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 108k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX , caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war, WIP) (link in #5)

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10. Are there any fics that contain WWX resenting/hating on the Jiangs? Maybe he'd do revenge after he's out of LP or something similar with that would be ok

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11. itmf fics where JC is raising baby JL as a single parent. modern au preferred, but any is good! he could have support from others or not, but im looking for fics where he does most of the day to day parenting

To lurk, to lie in wait by trippednfell (M, 124k, WangXian, Modern with Magic, Huli Jing, strangers to co-parents to lovers, Strangers to Lovers, Dragons, Kid Fic, teenage juniors, background NieLan, Angst with a Happy Ending, Case Fic, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Not Really Character Death, Fox Spirit WWX, Dragon LWJ, Blood and Injury, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note)

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12. For the next itmf, I’m looking for fics where wwx gets turned into child/baby @selkie-hi

found your writing on my wall by howodd5ever (T, 25k, WangXian, Accidental Baby Acquisition, De-aged WWX, in which jc and lwj have to learn to deal with each other, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Referenced Child Neglect, discussion of parental loss, child food insecurity, Case Fic, kind of, Nightmares)

no time for crying by Narci (T, 10k, WangXian, Wwx protection squad, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid!WWX, kid!lsz, night hunt gone absolutely right, (lowkey golden core fix it), Fluff, Angst and Feels, Humor, Juniors)

grow by cafecliche (T, 14k, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Character Study, Post-Canon, [Podfic] Grow by jellyfishfire)

❤️ in case of fire, break glass by Jenrose (T, 65k, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Post-Canon, Canon Divergence, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, Genius Inventor WWX, No Women Die, Background XiYao, Second Chances, unless they're too evil to save, Canon-typical Temporary Major Character Death, First Time) this has some physical deaging via time travel

A Tiny, Untimely Mess by Hauntcats (T, 26k, WIP, WangXian, Child WWX, Canonical Character Death, Accidental Baby Acquisition) this is a WIP

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13. I've had a craving for a D&D AU for a while, but haven't come across any of them naturally so far. I don't mind it being them playing D&D, but preferably it would be a D&D styled fantasy AU. I just want silly Wangxian in Faerun tbh. @littlemintrose

🧡 Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending) has WWX as a D&D player, and he creates characters based on himself and LWJ (and later creates his own fantasy D&D game)

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14. Itmf wwx's motherly instincts towards his ducklings pls

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15. Hi! I love love LOVE fics where Lan Zhan gets badly hurt and Wei Ying gets all protective over him. Bonus if Wei Ying goes all angry/dangerous to those who hurt Lan Zhan. Basically any fic where Wei Ying is protecting Lan Zhan who is in a bad situation is welcome 😂 Do you have specific tags or posts like that? @acklesforlife

❤️ Rabbit Heart by Suaine (M, 57k, wangxian, yearning, family issues)

moonlight caught in mutton fat by Raitelzen (T, 45k, WangXian, Case Fic, Curses, Curse Breaking, Transformation, mild body horror, Hurt LWJ, Ghosts)

the field meets the wood by astronicht (T, 7k, WangXian, BAMF WWX, slight whump, Ritualistic Self Harm, Canon Era, Tang Dynasty style, Blood Loss, Blood and Injury, salt economics, Post-Canon, [Podfic] the field meets the wood by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona), [podfic] the field meets the wood by jellyfishfire)

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16. hello! nothing in particular, just wangxian fics where lwj calls wwx his airen (i read it once in a fic and i am obssessed)

what price is duty, what cost is love by thunderwear (G, 18k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, WWX was never adopted by the Jiang Sect, War Prize, YLLZ WWX, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, First Time, Falling In Love, eventual dramatic confessions, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Stop (But please don't) by Silvers_Hidden_Corner (Silver_Flame_2724) (E, 1k, wangxian, Dubious Consent, Somnophilia, technically non-consensual somnophilia because they didn't discuss it beforehand, Bite Kink, Overstimulation, Size Kink, Strength Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Belly Bulge, Dirty Talk, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot)

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17. Hello there! First of all Thank you for all the fic that all of you have recommended, it was very helpful and interesting. Please take care of yourselves well.

For the next ITMF, i would really appreciate if you could recommend me something that is truly heart-wrenching. I want fics that will destroy my feelings and heart.

Thank u so much! Have a great day.

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, wangxian, major character death, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WWX confesses early on, But canon still happens, LWJ starts confessing after, but the tables have turned, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad, LWJ rejects WWX, Then gets rejected by WWX after, "Get Lost") because I love breaking and mending hearts apparently

New Perspective series by mrcformoso (T, 35k, wangxian, LSZ & LWJ, WN & WWX, LSZ & WWX, LJY/LSZ, major character death, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Fatherhood, Regrets, Flashbacks, POV LWJ, LWJ-centric, Canonical Character Death, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Needs a Hug, Character Development, Dead WWX, LWJ deals with the death of his love, And learns to be a father along the way, Introspection, Feelings, LWJ is Bad at Feelings, Character Study, Regretful LWJ, Breaking Toxic Cycles, Canon Compliant, LWJ in Seclusion, Post-LWJ in Seclusion, Child LSZ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence but only the ending, Because can we agree that The Untamed Ending was bull, LWJ regaining Wei Ying's Trust, Golden Core Reveal, Good LSZ; Snippets, Post-Time Skip, Love Confessions, Requited Love, Trust Issues, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, WWX Has No Golden Core, Jealousy, Fierce Corpse WN, Protective LWJ, Post-Canon, WWX Has Chronic Pain, WWX Has Issues, WWX has Phantom Pain, WWX was Malnourished, Sad LWJ, POV WWX, WWX is always cold, migraines, Suicidal WWX, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, mirror therapy, Good Friend NHS, Crying, WWX's body is normal but he still feels as if it isnt, POV LSZ. Found Family, Toxic Elders, Growing Up, The Lan Juniors, LSZ's parents suffered, And so he starts a revolution, Bringing about change, LWJ Adopts LSZ, WWX is LSZ's Parent, LSZ is a polite menace, HGJ raised an army of Lan rebels and we're here for it, Good Uncle WN) can guarantee has made multiple people cry

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, Music, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, CQL Verse, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa) This one is totally heart-wrenching (and heart-mending), bring your tissues! Gotta especially recommend the podfic version, especially the one work music added. Absolutely shreds your tear ducts. The whole series is incredible tbh

Home Front by flamingwell (T, 1k, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, Angst, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Death, Qiongqi Path prison camp references, hence the referenced child abuse and death, Grief/Mourning, a lot of angst in a small package, War Crimes)

and the calm is deep where the quiet waters flow by izanyas (E, 308k, WIP, WangXian, A/B/O Dynamics, Rape Recovery, Unplanned Pregnancy, Discrimination, Slow Burn, the slowest burn imaginable, Violence/Gore, Child Abuse, Suicide, post-partum depression, a painful but gentle journey into the intricacies of bodily autonomy) one of the most heart-wrenching and disturbing fics I’ve ever read full stop. please mind the trigger warnings. it’s a/b/o but is very much a dark fic that takes it very seriously, to the point that i would hardly consider it an abo fic anymore 😭 incredible world building and deals with themes of sexual abuse, discrimination and all those lovely things </3 unfinished atm but the author has plans to continue

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If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[johnslittlespoon]

okay listen feral bikerider gale/past catching up to him/etc etc etc anon here and can I just say. thank you. I’m not overly interested in the actual violence or gang-shit or whatever. when I first read about the bikerider au all I could think about was sons of anarchy (idk if you’ve watched it, but I watched three seasons with my dad and it’s all just. gang conflict after gang conflict after gang conflict with some romance sprinkled on top and that’s not. really my thing) and I was not into it. at all. then your yapping (affectionate) converted me. hearing that it won’t be all weapon smuggling and, idk, drugs or smth is actually so reassuring lol

and!!! obviously it’s your fic/au, I’m definitely not here to try to influence you in any way whatsoever!!! I’m super excited to read it no matter what because your writing is just. lovely. I check in pretty much every morning like I’m reading the papers lmao

doing something semi-stupid in your past feels like kind of on brand for everyone, even though it might not be illegal for most. and maybe it wasn’t illegal for Gale, either, bro I am not a very good writer, I’ll leave the plotting to someone else.

but I’ll always love the idea of Gale being a little feral. or a lot feral. like John getting hurt in a bikerider au tickles my brain the same way John punching a German guard in canon centric fics does. Nevermind the guard, I just need the fallout. the angsty fallout.

John and Gale coming back home, and Gale sitting him down in the bathroom to very, very carefully patch him up (and, listen, the other guys probably just roughed him up a little. he probably got away with minor bruises and some scrapes), and Gale being insanely worried that he has scared John. John on the other hand is worried for Gale, because what if it happens again? What if the police finds out? John being worried that he somehow messed up.

and, don’t get me wrong. I wouldn’t mind reading feral gale beating the shit out of people. It’s just not something I want to read a full fic of.

finally, because I just need to add this, too: Gale’s knuckles being split and bleeding and John so very carefully cleaning them up, pressing gentle kisses to the cuts when he has to scrape the dried blood up to get it properly clean. Gale not being sure what he did to deserve John, being so sweet and gentle and caring.

okay, over and out 🫡 sorry for not being that clear in the other ask, I blame. idk, sleep deprivation. and sorry for making this so long, idk what I’m on about half the time and my meds are doing shit to my brain. I love your blog and your writing just. makes my fucking days. I’d wait forever for the next chapter of dog coded Bucky ❤️

YIPPIEE more leaving!bikeriders au >:) hii i meant to get back to this SO long ago, feels like good timing now with the bikeriders theatre day approaching! i'm assuming you're the anon from this post <3

i have THOUGHTS. aka this got lengthy oops, shocker. a bit of plotting and then like 2k words of drabble below the cut lmfaoo

the proper drabble will be further down, but first of all, very big agree!! and relieved i'm not the only one who feels this way omg. i haven't watched SOA for this reason specifically– i just don't have much interest in the conflict/violence–heavy plot stuff (which is ironic considering i'm excited for the bikeriders movie, but i think it's pretty clear that's because of the lovely cast lol since i don't care for bikes/cars in the slightest oops). HONOURED that my yapping converted you tho LOL i swear if something is character focussed, it can make 99% of topics at least somewhat appealing!

and please don't worry omg i don't feel influenced/pressured etc, i loveee bouncing ideas and brainrot back and forth for my aus, it's sm fun and i love trying to incorporate things other people like/suggest when i can!! <3 but omg i will weep thank you so much wtf?? :'))

for sure; even the most stoic/'put together' characters surely have done some not very bright things in their lives. i'm toying with a couple backstories for gale to establish what might catch up to him or cause conflict, but i'm gonna wait to decide until i see the movie because i have a feeling i'll get some good inspo from benny's story!

honestly it's the part i'll have to put the most effort into really thinking out in terms of plot to make it flow naturally, because all the relationship focussed things kinda write themselves as i brainrot. but i'm 99% sure i'm gonna write the fic from john's pov because it'll keep a lot of gale a mystery to the readers as well, and therefore save me from having to flesh out certain things until necessary lmfaoo

and yeah!! it's not always the events themselves that hit the hardest– it's the fact that the character could be feral enough for them to happen in the first place, and it's the outcome/fallout that's most fun to write/read (to me).

feral gale is so fun to explore in general because of how different it is to most of what we're shown of him in mota, so it's like a challenge to keep him feeling in character while also picking out the little parts of him that could be pushed to be that way. and of course the classic whump of the one person gale cares about and tries so hard to protect getting hurt because of him? endless angst possibilities.

i dig what you said, about john 'just' being roughed up a little, because i think with whatever backstory i end up forming, it's not like the 'bad guys' are gonna be some mastermind criminals extorting gale for something life or death lol. it's probably gonna be a bunch of rough and tumble biker men with some long lasting beef between their clubs, hitting gale where they know it'll hurt the worst: a loved one.

i bet you anything (depending on how plotting goes LOL) that they don't actually even intend to mess john up to the extent they do; i bet john runs his mouth and makes some sorta escape attempt because as terrified as he is, all he can think about is how gale's gonna obviously track him down and he's more worried about what the guys are planning to do to gale when he shows up. in his naive mind, if he can get out and get to a phone or something, he can stop everything.

ofc the escape attempt is futile because it's one gangly college kid vs a couple of grown ass men, and john gets banged up in the process, seeing as being tackled to the ground with your wrists bound behind your back doesn't leave you with anything to protect your face from concrete with, and maybe then he gets a solid fist to the face to scare him out of pulling anymore shit (it sure works).

and just the act of taking john/putting him danger alone would have gale ready to wring these men out by their necks, but when he shows up and sees his baby bleeding? and he can't tell how bad he's hurt, from where he's lurking around the corner scoping out the situation? he'd see red and be pretty dang close to saying fuck it and going in there without a plan, but the fear of john getting hurt in the process would stop him, and he doesn't feel like going down for murder.

somehow he picks off the guys one by one with a generous amount of flying fists and y'know, maybe a bit of knife–work if necessary, idk, future plotting lol, and tells them they're good as dead if they pull anything like this again. that the club will be keeping an eye out for them, that they're a buncha cowards, and they can come talk to him face to face like men, next time. you get it.

and then finally, obligatory wound care ofc <3 easily top three tropes ever ugh. gale gets john the fuck out of there and to the safety of his truck, methodical and vigilant, and only then does his guarded expression drop, and his hands are shaking just as hard as john's are when he cups john's face in his hands to look him over. john gives him a shell–shocked "'m fine, gale" and hates how guilty gale looks, because there's not even the tiniest part of john that blames gale for any of it; john knew what he was getting into (to an extent) with gale.

but regardless, gale's shaken up, terrified by how much worse things could've gone and how much danger john could've been in, but also terrified of how deeply he feels for john; probably some backstory there about gale seeing someone he loved get hurt, or almost get hurt, swearing he'd never bring someone into his life again because of it, etc, and then in waltzes stubborn, loud–mouthed john egan.

but selfishly (or what he feels is selfish), gale's also terrified that this might be the final nail in the coffin for john. he knows he's not the easiest to be with (even though john thinks the exact same thing about himself lol silly boys) and he knows john's more patient than he deserves, and could find someone his own age with a normal life in a heartbeat with his sweet disposition and charming pretty boy looks. and he knows john's well within his rights to walk away from their relationship now, to be scared of the future, to decide it's too much, and part of gale would be relieved to not have to worry, even if he'd miss john like he's lost half of himself.

it's real quiet when they're back home and john's sitting on the bathroom counter, gale between his legs, patching up his face so so gently, as if each brush of a cotton swab is an apology. both of them have lots to say but neither know how to say it; john hates knowing gale's probably shouldering all the blame and he doesn't know how to reassure him in a way that'll get through to him, but he can't handle the silence. probably makes a weak joke about how "y'shoulda seen the other guy" and doesn't even get a smile out of gale.

ends up wrapping his legs around gale's hips to pull him closer but just gets a huffed out, frustrated "john" as gale swats his ankles away, and it's not that john's trying to make light of what happened, he just doesn't know how to talk about something like that, regardless of how good he and gale have gotten at communicating.

john probably gets a bit frustrated, because gale’s already so protective over him as is, which he likes, but now gale’s treating him like glass, like he’s scared to hurt him further just by touching him, and john does not like that. it feels like progress undone, like he's back at the beginning of their relationship when gale wouldn't let him in or open up to him or trust that he was capable of making his own decisions.

so when gale's done bandaging him up with practiced, meticulous hands, john doesn't give gale time to react, just slides off the counter and snatches the little first aid kit from his hands and says "okay, your turn." and it's obvious gale wants to protest, but john catches him so off guard that he stunned into silence, lets john guide him until he's leaning against the counter.

john's hands still tremble when he takes gale's hands in his, and he tries to steady them because he doesn't want gale to see how freaked out he is, but he diligently cleans away the blood around his knuckles, feeling gale's eyes on him the whole time but not looking away from his task, scared he'll shatter the moment if he does.

if he were to look up though, he'd see gale's watching him in complete awe, struck by the fiercest wave of adoration, drawing a blank while he tries to search for what he could've possibly done in this life or another to have someone like john come (crashing, stumbling, tornado–ing) into his life.

and if we wanna make it extra yowch–y and sappy and feelings heavy: as john's brushing his lips over the cuts, dusting featherlight kisses across his knuckles, john's throat goes tight and he feels his own overwhelming rush of emotions and his heart thumps and he blurts out: "i love you."

it's the first time one of them says it. and it’s a disguised i love you even so. i love you despite. i love you anyway. i love you because. months worth of reassurances wrapped into three words, and even with what john's just gone through, he's still scared when it slips out, looks up at gale with wide, searching eyes, trying to gauge whether he's overstepped or said the wrong thing.

gale's just trying to catch his breath, feeling like the wind's been knocked out of him by the admission. half of him wants to shake his head, gently push john's hands away, tell him "no you don't, hun." a tiny part of him wants to be cruel about it, to laugh the honesty off and ensure john will walk out that door far, far away from the mess that gale is, and not turn back, safe from harm.

but the other half of him, the half that holds his heart, evidently, has him cupping john's open, sincere face in his hands, looking down into bright, fearful, hopeful blue eyes, and murmuring "i love you more."

and john blushes as hard as he did the first time they'd kissed, as hard as he did the first time he was laid out in gale's bed, as if he and gale haven't said a million things much more fluster–inducing since they met. gets all shy, pouts, looks down and mumbles "that's not fair," and that finally gets the first smile out of gale all day, maybe even a breath of a laugh.

they love each other your honour </333

this got way out of hand but what else is newwww i'm so weak for these two. so so weak. i keep saying it but MAN i'm so excited to write this fic this summer omg :')

and DON'T BE SORRY!! it's so chill omg, you were perfectly clear (but i'm glad you elaborated and gave me an excuse to yap about them some more hehehe) and never apologize for long messages, i loveee reading the brainrot and hearing ur thoughts and getting to brainrot back. and thank you AGAIN sobs 😭💗 that makes MY days and ur way too kind fml. i hope the wait hasn't been too long LOL on the chapters AND a response to this ask!! tysm again mwah

[findroleplay]

Sup! looking for someone 18+ for some fandom/fandomless, angsty and dramatic romance rp.

i'm semi lit to lit (tho sometimes it may depend on the situation), very open to different ideas and suggestions for plots and stuff, i can do many characters at the same time (oc and cc), and i only ask for a bit of patience (i've been trying to get back into rps after a while :P)

Some fandoms and ships i wanna do:

Adventure time (Finn x Huntress wizard, Huntress Wizard x Flame Princess, Fionna x Hunter, Fionna x Flame Prince)

Hazbin Hotel/Helluva boss ( Adam x Lute, Alastor x Rosie, Loona x Millie, Verosika x Oc)

Dorohedoro (Caiman/Aikawa/Kai x Nikaido, Dokuga x Kai, Ebisu x Fujita)

Final Fantasy vii (Cloud x Tifa, Zack x Cindy)

I also have some ideas for some fandomless rps:

Set in a futuristic bohemian city a famous singers that secretly has a relationship with her bodyguard suddenly is dragged into a world of violence and crime after some past mistakes of the bodyguard come back to haunt him

Set in a dark fantasy world, a veteran mercenary is paid by to hunt down a very powerful corrupted wizard who is on a journey to destroy the world, they start out as enemies but with each fight they feel as they are getting closer until they fall in love with eachother

I'm just gonna leave those two as i already feel like this post is very long, if you are interested like this post and i'll reach out to you :D bye!

-

[variousqueerthings]

haha no I'm not done thinking about aroace doctor and how that rotates in my head at all times, but today thinking about how common point of view would have us believe that romance and sex in Doctor Who that in some way pertains to the doctor (that is, characters desire the doctor in some way, and/or desire a specific relationship structure -- regardless of how one reads the doctor interacting with that) is less interesting than these things simply not existing in the doctor's life, because of:

the doctor is alien (alien means aroace... except for of course all the times on the show it doesn't, but specifically for the doctor it's a Clue of alieness, according to this wisdom)

the doctor has other shit going on that is "more" interesting than concerns about romance and/or sex + the doctor's emotions around these other things are also "deeper" than matters of romance and/or sex

we just don't want it ok? because it was never there before (much)

and an aroace conscious read would go: actually the romance and the sex are quite important, not only in terms of how characters feel who are allosexual and alloromantic, but also in terms of characters who aren't and putting in this stuff in nu!who doesn't make the doctor seem less aroace than before, but arguably moreso, because before it was not a choice based in a realistic exploration of character, but rather a shorthand of "alien/other," which isn't really what aroace means, whereas now these facets are a vital part of one of the reasons why the doctor struggles to make connections, beyond the grandiose scifi semi-immortality going on -- with the caveat that the writing of aroaceness for the most part still isn't grounded in a deep knowledge of aroace community or identity, but rather coming out of pushing the boundaries of character-writing, which is a fascinating by-product in and of itself, because even when the character isn't consciously aroace and even when the show is trying to be a bit "sexier" by its own admission, there's still a ton of aroace text that writers can't help including, often despite their own stated opinions:

sure the doctor gets kissed, but there's enough intentional grey space that one can (and is invited to) read it as not totally wanted, or merely tolerated

sure the doctor can have intense relationships with others, but never commits to the words "I love you," enough so that if one wants to, one can read all kinds of things into that creative choice (and also the idea that there are many of those relationships, that specifically, deliberately take many different forms, is interesting as well)

sure the doctor can-ish flirt, mostly in one iteration (eleven), but when actually pushed into an actual possibly sexual scenario is viscerally uncomfortable

sure there's more joking about sex, but although other characters definitely do get frisky (jack, amy and rory, river song especially) the doctor... doesn't really, and the doctor tends to rebuff those advances

I just think it's very neat once the doctor is actually shown to be aware of these things that are incredibly important structures in society then their actions have more character depth to them, and that's where my interest in aroace doctor comes from -- not aroaceness as "eh, I guess we always did it this way and it does make this alien character seem Weirder" but aroaceness as actual character, and once people can get onboard with those ideas then a lot of the doctor's actions in nu!who can potentially take on all kinds of different fun shapes (many of them angsty)

[kassandras-one-braincell]

Hi loves. I'm writing from a state of exhaustion so please excuse the English. It has occurred to me that I haven't written anything semi-substantial since October, when I had the brilliant idea of trying to bang out a prompt month with 15 days of prior planning in my final year of uni. I wouldn't call it creative burnout, because I have a shit ton of ideas, but that prompt event was a chore.

I've got 10 exams coming up in 5 weeks time, and I'm bricking it because my entire degree rides on them. When I'm not thinking of physics, I'm rotating three characters in my brain on spinning teacups. I won't be able to write properly again until at least July, but I would like to nonsensically blurt out my thoughts on a particular AU. Might do that tonight, might also pass out on my keyboard. That's all I can really offer. My inbox is always open to fawn over the usual suspects, though - chatting with you lot sparks joy.

When I do return to writing properly, I want to diversify in genre a bit. I won't avoid romance necessarily, but I had zero fun writing that kinktober stuff. Smutted out. I've got an angsty thing outlined in my drafts that isn't reader-insert, and I do intend to finish Bulletproof. But first I need to finish my degree. Thanks for your patience, and love you all 🩷

[stupidgtblog]

Lore Stuff number 2

Thanks @zelda1410! :3

Ok so idk if this counts as lore stuff or as more as background info??? whatever lets start

What kind of story do you want it to be?

Multifaceted question. For genre, I'm aiming for something that falls into fantasy? I'm kind of hesitant to call it a romance, but I'm not denying there isn't romance in it. For like themes? In general, it may end up being more angsty? It won't by any means be like an overall bummer to read but a bunch of characters have pretty bad stuff happen to them (womp wompp)

Do you ship any of your characters? - Are they platonic, or do they hate each other?

YES I DO. Like idk if I made this kinda clear or not but I do ship Sylvia and Mira? Like I plan for them to be platonic for a whileee but like not foreverr. ALSO that does not mean they don't hate each other. They do. for a while. (but not forever.)

How long do you intend this story to be? What age range is your audience?

I intend the story to span multiple chapters. I think the chapters won't be very long? I don't intend on writing more than 5k words in a chapter. I'd rather update on semi-consistent short chapters than burn myself out on longer ones. I doubt the story will go over 15 chapters? So it may end up being an approximately 75k word fic. or maybe I'm being ambitious or it'll end up being like 60k. Or maybe I'm underestimating and it'll be 90k. I'm just figuring stuff out.

For age range, I don't really have anything specific? If we were going movie ratings, this would probably be PG-13? There are of course some parts more serious than others, but I think anyone who isn't like very easily upset could read it.

THANK YOU!!!!!!!!! ☆:.｡.o(≧▽≦)o.｡.:☆

[waytoomanyhobbies]

It's time to feel good about ourselves! List your BEST, FAVORITE, MOST CREATIVE (however you interpret that), and MOST POPULAR works! It's fine if the categories overlap. Then pass this on to other creators to spread the love. No self-deprecation allowed!

Hmmm.

BEST is probably still Bittersweet Between My Teeth:

Rated M. It's a Blaine/Peyton and Ravi/Liv iZombie fic. It's the biggest plot I've tackled. I mean, it turned into a full novel length and has got: action, romance, horror, mystery, people plotting all kinds of stuff, mass murder, amnesia, semi-fake relationships, love confessions, zombie-making sex... etc. It's got some real gore and violence, but it is based on a series where a zombie eats dead people's brains to solve their murders and spends lots of time worrying about other zombies creating a zombie apocalypse, so that's to be expected.

FAVORITE is Dance Me to the End of Love:

Rated M. It has Tina and Jimmy Jr. preparing for their upcoming wedding, and tensions are rising because of a secret Tina has been keeping. There's a bit of romantic drama, lots of humor, and a character driven story; and it allowed me to write the entire Belcher family, which was a huge treat to write.

MOST CREATIVE is a bit harder to define, but I'm going with A Day at La Playa:

Rated T. More Tina and Jimmy Jr. The jealousy prompt for Tinimmy Week was so damned fun, and I am proud of my little twist on it. Lol.

Warm Butts (also rated T) was a really close contender for this one, too. So, I'm gonna include it. The prompt was secret/barrette, and it turned into the beginning of one of Tina's erotic friend fics in a really fun way.

MOST POPULAR is Close Calls and Closer Comforts:

Rated E. Stardew Valley is probably the biggest fandom I've written for in ages. I've seen lots of folks say that Sam isn't a character you can write anything dramatic and angsty for because he's so friendly and sweet, yet I find Sam's story arc and family in the game filled with lots of drama and interesting, meaty character stuff to explore. So when the farmer gets KO'ed in the Skull Caverns in this fic, it was a perfect way to dig into that trauma and angst for all us Sam lovers out there... and we get some sweet sexytimes afterward.

[effervescentluminescence]

inspired by i think @ourflagmeansgayrights bc i also have too many WIPs (10 i guess, which is too many) and I kind of want to put them in the atmosphere so I finish some of them.

Starting with the two I might finish:

Not Christmas fic (also inspired by an @ourflagmeansgayrights post?) where post-divorce Stede on his first Christmas alone goes to NYC for the day on impulse bc all the movies make it look festive. It's not, really, but he does meet Ed there! And then they semi-accidentally go on a 24-hour extremely secular date and fall in love and have sex and all that.

Mega long fic where Ed and Stede meet as kids. Ed works at the Bonnet estate--he ended up there after the whole killing his dad thing, becomes bffs with Stede, they do some cute teen romance stuff, and they make plans to run away together after Stede's dad starts floating marriage prospects, but Badmintons intervene and Stede is forced into the British Naval Academy and Ed manages to escape the estate and goes home to his mom. But they tell Stede that Ed is dead! And then Stede finds out that he's not! And that Ed is Blackbeard (who has a slightly different reputation in this universe)! Anyway it's a lot of fic. I've got it pretty much mapped out but I'm intimidated by it.

lol not to mention the one I have mostly published with the last chapter mostly written but haven't finished yet haha

And some that are just sparkles in my eye:

Amnesia!fic where Chauncey does shoot Stede a little bit in the head before offing himself. Stede's marked dead on the logs and the only person who knows who he is is the guard Ed got to lead him into the forest, but admitting he knows who Stede is would be bad for him, so no one knows who he is. Basically Stede doesn't remember anything about his life, becomes a privateer, ends up accidentally unionizing his ship, accidentally on purpose kills his captain who is about to kill Ed. Stede's like, hi nice to meet you, I'm Toby (or something) and then Ed realizes that he doesn't actually know why Stede didn't meet him at the docks? Whoops.

Ed pretends to not be able to read and asks Stede to teach him so they can spend more time together.

Ed's mom is doing great now, actually, and after S1 he runs into his half-sister and meets his stepdad and sees his mom for the first time in 20 years and it's all very angsty and shmoopy

Fic where Ed and Stede are reunited and immediately start arguing/flirting so Izzy stabs Stede in the guts, more angst/shmoop

Jim forgives Ed--They get a letter from Olu via Olivia saying everyone is alright, so Jim's like...how can I fix this, oh hey an opportunity to try killing someone with kindness, been wanting to try that since they heard captain say it. It sounded stupid until they realized the killing was metaphorical. Jim so rarely has the moral high ground so this could be fun.

Sequel/Companion to my Princess Bride fic, missing scenes with Jim, Inigo, and Frenchie in the Fireswamp and the Bermuda Triangle

Post reunion pre-forgiveness, Ed has basically forgiven Stede but he just can't stop being a dick and he's so annoyed at himself about it but that makes him act even more dickish. It's a vicious cycle. (but it's because he hasn't actually talked to Stede yet because he's worried about being too mean and also crying a lot and he knows Stede's going to feel bad, but then he acts like a dick and makes Stede feel just as bad. He is very aware of how ridiculous he's being but can't stop.) Then Ed catches Stede him sneaking into the captains cabin. Turns out there's a secret bookshelf that Ed didn't know about where Stede kept all his favorites. Stede asks if he can take one, Ed just shrugs. Later Stede asks Ed if he can go grab another book and Ed for no real reason tells Stede he threw them all in the ocean. Ed can see the light go out in Stede's eyes, and he's like, no no no fuck that was so mean why did I say that, but then Stede walks away so Ed goes to his cabin to kick the walls. Later that day Lucius is like "heeyyyyy, did you really throw out all Stede's favorite books. Ed's like "...no." L: "yeah, that's what I thought. Could you tell him that? He thinks you hate him now and he's starting to lose all hope, and his will to live has always been tenuous at best--" and Ed's alarmed, now, also fuck it, he doesn't actually want to hurt Stede! Ed finds Stede and drags him into his cabin and then just starts monologuing all his hurts and apologies, and by the end they're both crying but Stede is smiling again and remarks how romantic it all was. The vibe on this is more humor than angst (angst mostly from moping!Stede)

[spikes-n-studies]

Spikes N Studies - A Sam & Penny Ask/RP Blog

We're still getting set up...!

Semi-Selective (18+ Only, Mod is 22)

OC/Crossover/Multiverse Friendly and Encouraged!

Sprites/Art in Asks, Paragraph Style

Personalized HCs

Possible Dark Subject Matter Ahead

NSFW for Age In Bio ONLY

[Tagging System Here!]

Muses (1, 2) | Rules | Ask Box - Open

I made all my sprites and do my own art! Sprites may be replaced and updated.

[Both Sam and Penny are romanceable!]

While they may not have set in stone sexualities, for the purposes of this blog, they are both Bisexual.

Various Roleplays may give these two various partners. There are NO canon pairings though! The default state is both Sam and Penny are single, but I, as the mun, am more than willing to try new relationships with them and they'll be tagged accordingly!

{I WILL NOT DO CHEATING PLOTS. END OF STORY.}

For additional context: Sam and Penny are basically starting from the beginning. Kent isn't home yet, Sam still works at Joja, and Penny still lives in her trailer.

(I prefer soft stuff, but won't deny angst. But if you are going to interact, don't make your first interaction immediately angsty, just as personal preference! I can't wait to interact with all of you!)

[findroleplay]

Hello! Today, I am looking for a throuple roleplay! Personally, I have been questioning whether or not I am polyamorous, so I wanted to try a roleplay, to feel the experience, somewhat. But don't worry, I will be playing an OC, not myself. I'm looking for TWO partners, because I want to try this from three different angles! Additionally, I'm looking for an M/F/F throuple, with me playing the M. So I am looking for two separate partners to play female characters! I want this rp to be a SoL, and I'd love if it could be an angsty romance! So, let me know!

Some stuff about me! I am a 22 M rper, and I write Semi Lit!

_

[belle-keys]

Iliad Retellings, for better or worse

Today I bring you some retelling's of Homer's Iliad. Not all of these are particularly great, but I believe in a certain context, every one of these books can be enjoyable based on what you’re into. When I say “Iliad retelling”, I mainly refer to the general plot of Homer’s epic, but also as it pertains to ancient plays about the same epic by Euripides, Aeschylus, and Sophocles.

The Silence of the Girls by Pat Barker

This is a feminist retelling of Homer’s Iliad from the point of view of Briseis and Achilles which focuses on the experiences of the enslaved women of the war. Look out for rape and slavery as major topics, and know that neither Achilles or Patroclus are the good guys in this book. This is my utmost favorite retelling of Homer's epic- it's raw, engaging, and adds something new to the story. Note that it draws more on Euripides' works than Homer's.

The Women of Troy by Pat Barker

The sequel to The Silence of the Girls, which focuses on what happens to the various women after the Trojan War and is told from the point of view of Briseis and Pyrrhus. It's basically a retelling of The Trojan Women by Euripides, and it analyzes the legitimacy of Pyrrhus' slaying of King Priam. It's like a very lengthy epilogue to the first book, but it's super introspective and was a relatively quick read.

Elektra by Jennifer Saint

This is based on Orestes, Iphigenia, and Electra by Euripides and Agamemnon by Aeschylus. It's about what went down during the war between Elektra, Clytemnestra, and Cassandra (favorite woman) and how Agamemnon's actions and overall shittiness ties them all together. Multiple POV book that's told in a way where it ends semi-anticlimactically, sure, but it's a book I've been waiting for because of how much I love these specific characters. Got daddy issues? This one's for you.

Wicked Beauty by Katee Robert

Sigh. So, this is an extremely loose romance and erotica retelling, and it’s a ménage-à-trois between Achilles, Patroclus and, get this, Helen. The plot is juvenile, the writing is overly simplistic, and the worldbuilding is ridiculous. But! There are two redeeming qualities about this. The first is that it’s quick and indulgent if you just wanna read something that’s not serious. The second is that Patroclus has an actual personality and isn’t just there to be Achilles’ shadow, which I liked.

A Thousand Ships by Natalie Haynes

A feminist retelling of the Trojan War and its aftermath from the points-of-view of several of the women/female figures involved in the war: Briseis, Helen, Calliope, Cassandra, Hecuba, Andromache, Iphigenia, Eris, etc. The storytelling is non-linear, so each chapter feels like its own complete mini-story that details a certain aspect of the war. Of course, we get a lot of meta-commentary on Homer’s Iliad since the muse herself and some goddesses get POV chapters.

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller

You know this book, I know this book, we know this book. This is the story of Achilles’ life and death told from the POV of Patroclus. It’s also the story of their specific relationship, and it covers a lot of details about Patroclus and Achilles’ youth, Achilles and his relationship with his mother, all the angsty stuff that happened after Patroclus died. I have issues with this book so it’s not exactly a favorite of mine, but overall, there’s good writing here and its also very quotable.

[darkdoverpseeker]

hello! 🕊️ 21NB looking for an ocxoc rp preferably something to do with maybe the supernatural, demons, preferably some dark stuff as well. i would adore a romance-angsty roleplay with some nsfw sprinkled in. maybe some obsessive love, demon plots?? not sure, but i would love to brainstorm smth!

i rp over discord, i would consider myself semi-lit/literate but i always try to match my partner’s replies!

i have a couple muses i use and i’d love to show them to someone & have them pick which one they want. i’m open to doing m/m + f/f + m/f ! i do however have a slight preference to play fem-aligned characters, but i have a couple of masculine/male characters i like to rp as ! interact with this and i’ll get back as soon as possible!

interact if interested!

[uwumessenger]

random headcanons i have for each om! character teehee

hi it's been a while since ive posted some hcs bc uni has been kicking my a$$! luckily i only have a few papers to tidy up and im done. here r some hcs for each obey me character that ive accumulated over the past few months wink wonk

most are random but some constants you'll find are what i think they smell like, languages they can speak (other than their native (demon/angel) and eng/jp), and music tastes !

lucifer

i have a strong feeling that he showers twice a day: in the morning after waking up and at night before going to bed

his cologne is probably the type that will last in an elevator for like a week after he uses it once. i dont think this mf ever smells like anything other than his cologne

has a secret folder on his phone of semi-nudes and other scandalous pics from when he felt sexy at the time omg

aside from demon language/eng/jp he can speak french and knows latin

listens to classical stuff yea but he also listens to diavolos mixtapes (re: diavolo's section)

not a fan of sweets but will eat sweet things when craving

really bland sense of humor...borderline cringey 😭✋🏻

mammon

has gone to google images and searched for "inspirational quotes tumblr" "gold aesthetic tumblr" & "relatable crush post tumblr" then reposts it onto his socials or just taps thru them and giggles bc he relates

his cologne doesnt last as long as lucifers and probably smells common. he has to reapply a lot but it's a people pleasing smell. it's cheaper hence the constant reapplying

he probably does have an expensive bottle but is the type to totally overspray...eek

he is canonically a car guy 🥲 and probably tells the one in his room good morning & good night + kisses the hood every once in a while. has tons of car magazines

he doesnt really speak other languages but has attempted to learn spanish before

listens to whatever is on the radio. doesnt rly stan anyone but he eventually will listen to mc's playlist and mc's playlist ONLY

levi

lurks on mc's socials ALL THE TIMEEEE like he will rewatch ur stories and scroll thru ur feed and overanalyze ur tweets/rts or blog posts. if ur mc isnt the type to use sns much he still googles ur name all the damn time just to find any sites u might be on fjdjdjdjskks

probably streams on whatever youtube or twitch devildom site equivalent there is, but only has like 40 or so followers. which he is okay with!

until he sees someone else who gets more attention than him. then the envy starts kicking in bad. especially if they suck 🧍🏻‍♀️

classic gamer boy smell. you know, sweat, tears, must, and (sometimes) axe deodorant. lucifer has to do a scent check before he goes out to any event & lets him use his cologne. how sweet!

kpop stan!! more girl groups than anything and his ults are probably GIRLS GENERATION, wonder girls, twice, loona, & red velvet

cried when ioi disbanded and refused to leave his room. the only thing u could hear was downpour on loop at full blast

can also speak korean & communicate in echolocation like dolphins 😏

satan

listens to country music you cant change my mind

smells like whatever environment he is in. he doesnt really have a designated smell just throws some deodorant on and goes about his day.

he's sooooo bad at driving...gets road rage way too often so his license has been REVOKED

but hes totally a backseat driver. needs to be sedated on long trips

do not let him watch finding nemo when luke asks to watch it. it's not worth it. he will cause mass destruction.

if he was a human or lived long term in the human world he totally has the ability to be a doctor

is studying as many languages as possible, but he mostly knows latin & french & german etc etc. wants to learn all the dead languages out of curiousity

asmo

dont think this mf has ever held down a relationship. ever

he doesnt compromise much & is not willing to change his lifestyle to fit an s/o into it. you keep up with how he lives or it just isnt meant to be (but dont worry! he'll eventually learn...maybe,,,,)

has the hardest time out of everyone when it comes to breaking bad habits

his smell varies bc he uses a variety of perfumes (whatever is the most popular at the time) but he probably sticks to floral and fresh scents. he never uses generic people pleaser scents like mammon

listens to electropop, mainstream pop, & some alternative rock

as for languages he too knows french, spanish, italian, etc. in general, if it's a romance language he knows it!

opposite of lucifer in the sense where he loves sweets and will refrain from eating too many bitter things

i think we all know that asmo is the biggest rockstar of the group! he's probably been in a boy band at least once, but now he makes his own music

has tried to teach mammon how to sing once. ended up in a broken piano and bleeding ears...

beel

i feel like he is SO SHY

like unless ur close to him he will not start conversations or anything

i think he listens to r&b a lot ! and jazz 😎 maybe rock as well

smells like ur typical athlete with undertones of wet wipes. he carries them around bc he likes to clean his hands before he eats & is prepared for when theres no sink nearby

he can drive and he drives really well. no rough turns, parallel parks perfectly, and never has problems with merging

driving with beel is probably really soothing. left hand is steering the other is gripping ur thigh 😫

dont think hes really fluent in any other language but hes probably semi fluent in korean because levi wanted beel to help him out

definitely know how to order food in practically every language tho HAHAHA

belphie

he reminds me of randall from monsters inc

smells kinda musty IM SORRY but not the way levi does hes more like the kind of musty u feel or smell when it's a shitty morning

but that's only because hes so lazy, when he cleans up hes like satan

has definitely murdered multiple people before. mc is not the first 😐✋🏻

with that being said belphie has been put into prison at least twice when visiting the human world, the mf had such a strong hatred for humans theres no way he never got into trouble before

lucifer probably broke him out and they used the pen thingies from men in black to erase everyones memory of that 🙄

dont think he listens to anything other than music that'll put him to sleep. really likes lazy song by bruno mars but thinks that bruno mars put too much effort into the song. should have been one acapella verse and then finish

similar to beel hes only semi fluent in one language, probably french bc of lucifer. doesnt remember much but knows a couple of lullabies and bedtime stories

the sandman used to be his bff until they drifted. they do, however, like and comment on each other's sns posts.

diavolo

once he found out who nicki minaj was he became her #1 stan

def an ariana grande stan too 😌

choreographs dances when hes stressed...idk just seems like a diavolo thing to do

also makes rly bad soundcloud rap music sometimes. turns to poetry when hes feeling emo but only lucifer knows this. barbatos is suspicious of him but doesnt have enough evidence to confirm.

his dad is like hudson abadeer from adventure time aka marceline's dad? something must have influenced him to want to unite the 3 realms + he would need the approval to do so, so his dad must be more chill than all the others before him 🧍🏻‍♀️ IDK ok anyway

currently going through his hamilton phase bc of mc. whether mc's intent was to get him hooked onto it or just to explain it bc of something he saw online, he tells everyone that he found out abt it bc of mc!

this man cannot drive his skills are only second to jumin han

not too fond of many languages but knows the widely spoken ones like spanish, mandarin, etc. if it's taught in high school he knows it

smells like a las vegas casino. not sure why but i feel like he does. but there's also an interesting & nice smell to him if he embraces you. it's a smell you cant quite identify. but it smells nostalgic, it's mysterious, and it's tempting.

barbatos

very calm demeanor but underneath hes WILD hes probably done everything at least once oof

he just has a lot of control and stability over himself (must be nice!)

on a more angsty note i feel like he might have had his heartbroken sO BAD IDK he is hurting and maybe that's why hes so willing to obey diavolo and not abuse his time lord power thingies bc he learned his lesson the hard way

mans is so smart he knows every language you could switch languages mid conversation with him and he wouldnt be thrown off. he'd probably start speaking it too.

BUT HE SPEAKS VIET P E R F E C T L Y

listens to the same stuff as lucifer but also likes eminem. likes the movie 8 mile but criticized it heavily

have you ever been to a chinese herb shop? naturally, he smells like that. his room probably smells like it too. he doesnt really have a significant smell like some of the others

when he bakes he smells like whatever hes baking tho

one of the few out of everyone listed to have been able to travel to literally everywhere

solomon

was probably on kitchen nightmares once, but only to get feedback from chef gordon ramsay. then he used his magic to prevent the episode from airing...

was in an orchestra, one of the best times of his life. played the violin. asmo watched him in the audience once, but didnt approach him until well after that performance.

he CANNOT sing. he can, however, rap.

doesnt listen to music. he listens to podcasts! but every now and then he turns on background music, but prefers it to be instrumental stuff

never wears sunglasses. also does not have a driver's license. cannot drive a regular car. could maybe fly an airplane.

due to his immortality he has learned almost every language to exist, but finds himself speaking mandarin the most. knows most dialects too

similar smell to barbatos but u can also smell some sunscreen on him too. like, generic beach day suncreen

he has a lot of pact marks, so he once had the idea to match foundation to his skin. it took him two weeks but he eventually perfected a combination. yes he will help u find ur perfect shade if u ask him to

simeon

another country music man. has also made a tiktok or two to that one song that goes "he cant even bait a hook." they are private tho

angel country music exists and simeon invented it

if he visits the human world and wears more causal clothing he probably tucks his shirt into his pants

wears a speedo at the beach i tell u, speedo at the beach

he can speak german...i can feel it

uses his pointer finger to type and holds the phone like 2 inches away from his face so sometimes his nose will push a key hence all his typos

has no signature smell. he simply smells like your favorite scent all the time. if multiple people are around him at once, everyone smells a different smell. it's pretty rad

"what does he smell like to himself?" u may be asking. hmm...a church? 💀

luke

his first pet was a goldfish and a few months before the exchange program happened, he was given a koi pond!

secretly likes hanging out with levi sometimes just to play with henry. makes him miss his pet fish back home

so his favorite movie is probably finding nemo and he threw a fit when nemo touched the butt

luke is probably learning german bc of simeon, though he'd like to learn more of the dead languages just for fun

i dont think he listens to music often or has any preferences, he just listens to whatever is playing on the radio

but he finds himself listening to the music mc listens to

smells like freshly baked goods all the time. or fresh laundry. but like, not combined. just depends on the day