#this is the setup for those who didn't know

[heartmix]

Surprise Stream - LN4

Pairing: Lando Norris x gamer!reader

Word Count: 1.6k+

Summary: She's a popular gamer who's been on hiatus for 2 years until she appears on her boyfriend's stream with his bestfriend  

Warning: reader is implied not to be British, kissing, swearing, playful bullying

A/N: holy shit the year has been so crazy I haven't had anytime to sit and write. I also haven't written for Lando in so long.

F1 Masterlist / Masterlist

You have been on camera publicly for years. After growing up in front of it since high school and building your own gaming empire, you forgot what it's like away from the media and enjoying something that wasn't pixelated. Two years ago, you decided to take a step away from it all. 

A few years away from the spotlight did you some good. Trying new things, having more time for other hobbies, and overall just living for yourself and not others. It's not like you didn't enjoy the spotlight - you loved interacting with fans, playing video games for a living, and meeting other gamers. All of it was great, but the pressure to put out videos multiple times a week made you lose love for gaming. It turned into a job instead of a passion. 

After meeting Lando, who had a passion for gaming, you fell in love with gaming all over again. To him, it was not only a passion but his escape from the real world. He taught you that it can be fun and that there is no pressure. Gaming shouldn't have to feel like work, it should be something you enjoy. It's entertainment, not an obligation. 

Many late nights, you'd both stay up playing Mario Kart, Tarkov, beating him as Oscar on his racing simulator, and even some indie scary games you got him to play. Sometimes you'd even play with Max if he weren't streaming. 

It was the Monday after a Grand Prix, usually a day when Lando reserved for playing with Max to unwind from the thrill of a race. You saw him setting up his camera, which surprised you. He only brought out the camera once, maybe twice a year. He must still be on a high after winning yesterday. 

"A lando stream and with his camera? You're just feeding your fans." You walked in, placing his water bottle by him, knowing he'll forget to drink it while playing. 

"Yeah, just one of those days." He smiled appreciative of the small gesture. 

"What game are you guys playing today?" You looked at his monitor, seeing nothing but Twitch being ready to launch. 

"Max wanted to play COD for a bit and probably move onto Tarkov." 

"Can I play?" You asked off-handed, but you were met with wide eyes and his jaw hanging open. 

"On stream?" He clarified, like he wasn't sure if he heard you correctly. Being on a stream was something you both talked about, but not sure how soon it could come into fruition. This was a big deal to do it, and to catch you at the moment when you were finally ready, he wanted you to be comfortable with your decision. 

"Yeah, why not?" Shrugging like it was nothing. 

"I'd love that." He smiled, pulling you in for a kiss. 

Soon enough, Lando started to set up your station next to his. He offered you his setup as the view from your station has the view for both of you, and so you would just be in the background as opposed to front and center. Once everything was ready, he turned to look at you, set up comfy on the chair like you were back in your natural habitat. A smile spread onto his face, knowing that you fell in love with gaming again. Enough to show the world you loved it again.

"What?" You said, looking over to him with a raised eyebrow, seeing the goofy, lovestruck look on his face.

"Just proud of you is all."

"I hope you know this is because of you. Without you, I don't think I would ever be in love with this again." 

"I was just there, you overcame it yourself." He brushed it off because he didn't do anything but play with you. But with the way you were looking at him right now, he might be convinced that he did do something. 

"I love you." You smiled, pulling him in for another kiss.

He pulled away just a bit to mumble, "Hmmh, I love you more," before pulling you in again. 

Soon enough, both of you were set up, and he texted Max about the new situation so he wouldn't be caught off guard on camera. When he pressed the live button, you held your breath for a bit. You were ready to be on camera again, but you just didn't want it to take away from Lando and Max. 

"There you guys are. I've been waiting forever." Max's voice pulled you out of your trance, making you chuckle. 

"Oh hush you knob, you're so dramatic." Lando fired back without missing a beat. 

You looked over to Lando's monitor, so you were in more of a better view. When you peeked at his Twitch chat, you weren't surprised to see the views climbing rapidly; however, you were surprised to see the comments. 

IS THAT THE QUEEN??

SHE CAME OUT OF RETIREMENT 

MY TWO WORLDS COLLIDING 

HOW DID LANDO EVEN GET HER ON STREAM?????

THE COLLAB OF THE CENTURY 

Looking over, he wasn't bothered by the chat, instead grumbling with Max. When you nudged him to look at the chat, he was initially confused. He expected everyone to be talking about you, but when he noticed the collab comments, he started chuckling. Both of you forgot that the public didn't know you were together. There was speculation about when you would attend races, but garage hopping didn't strengthen the theory. 

QUEEN, PLEASE NOTICE US!

HOW ARE LANDO AND MAX NOT FREAKING OUT WITH ROYALTY IN THE HOUSE?!

no but seriously how did lando bring her out of retirement 

"Hi guys!" you decided to acknowledge the chat. When that happened, comments were rolling in so fast that you couldn't even read or make out a single word. 

"I think you broke my chat," Lando smirked, looking over to you, making you back away to your setup in shyness. 

"So are you going to introduce her?" Max's voice came through since his chat was also talking about you on the stream. 

"I don't think she needs any introduction, I'm pretty sure we don't even exist to chat."

"So are we going to play or just bicker with each other?" You grabbed the attention of both men in hopes of getting them to stop shining the light on you. 

Soon enough, all three of you were loaded into a lobby. Once the match started, it wasn't like you missed a beat. Calling out to Max and Lando like you guys were in an actual battlezone and getting the most kills for the team. Max and Lando were used to playing with you, so they knew your style, as they might have known you from your videos. 

What you didn't see was the chat going crazy. Commenting on how you seem like your old self, how you're owning both Max and Lando, and how easily you fit in with both of them. 

"Max, 9 o'clock!!" You shouted, seeing someone creep up on him while you were busy getting a kill.

"Whose 9?!" he shouted before being killed. 

"Your 9 you knob!" 

"Why can't you say left like a normal person?" He grumbled.

Without missing a beat, you fired back, "Why can't you survive more than one round?"

"This is bullying."

"BABE YOUR 12!!" You suddenly heard Lando say, but when you looked up, you saw no one. Not even a second later, the kill screen popped up, showing it was from behind, making you whip your head to him. 

"That was 6 o'clock not 12 you muppet!!"

"I got confused!!!"

"I hope you get killed." You mumbled before turning back to your screen.

"Let's retire the military talk." You grumbled, earning a laugh from Lando, and you had no doubt Max was shaking his head. 

 Did she just say knob?

how long has she been hanging around them shes picking up British slang

ahhh bullying max is second nature

DID LANDO JUST CALL HER BABE

BABE HELLO??

NO WAY LANDO JUST SLIPPED

OH SHES GOING TO FREAK ONCE SHE RELAIZEZ 

HE CALLED HER BABE WHILE SHE CALLED HIM A MUPPET

HONOR THEY LOVE EACH OTHER 

"Lando you fucked up." Max's voice came through in a slight panic once the round was over.

"Yeah, I know, I'm not going to try and experiment again."

"Not that, check the chat." You couldn't help but look over, also. Any chance to make fun of Lando, you were going to hop on, but jokes on you this time.

"Oops?" He slowly looked over in your direction, afraid of what he was going to be on the receiving end of. It was one thing to have you on stream, your first stream back at that, but to accidentally announce your relationship live? Oh, he messed up big time.

"Let's just say you are so glad we're live right now. Secrets out, I guess." 

"Someone sleeping on the couch tonight." Max snickered, enjoying what he was hearing. He couldn't wait to watch clips of it later on Twitter and TikTok. 

"I'm sorry. I love you?" 

"Now you're questioning it?" You asked with a raised eyebrow as Max was dying laughing through both of your ears. 

"No, no, no. I love you, I'm in love with you, and I would do anything for you. I'm sorry," he panicked, pulling you closer so he could squeeze you for reassurance. 

"You're so lucky you're cute."

"And that you love me." The goofy look was back on his face, one he knew you couldn't resist. 

"And that I love you." You sighed, trying to hide the smile at how cute the interaction was. 

"You guys make me sick. Can we get back to the game now?"

"Both of you better last a full round with me." 

[imsiriuslycool]

streamer!ellie x streamer!reader headcannons ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

warnings: none, just pure fluff. also, this is one of my first times posting and my first language is not english so let me know if you have any tips!

✰ ellie was known for being the chaotic streamer who used the word “chat” way too much and who rage quit every five minutes. you were the sweet one, cozy games and an aesthetic setup. you had a secret little crush on her. nothing much. what you didn't know was that she was a big fan of you too, never missing a single stream.

✰ you were both pretty big streamers and she mentioned you. her fans lost it, making fun of her for getting all flustered, accusing her of having a crush. soon enough that clip went viral.

✰ when you saw that clip, you dm´d her asking for a collab, just a chill minecraft stream to keep your fanbases happy. the stream went more than well, and collabs soon became a habit. even living hours apart, you two seemed to have a really deep connection.

✰ she was definitely the teasing as a way of flirting type. was constantly making fun of your aim when you tried shooting games and would compliment you just to brush it off when you blushed.

✰ she confessed to you on a random late night facetime call. you were in your apartment laying in bed and she just blurted it out. the next day you were already driving to see her. you spent some days at her place, dreading the thought of even having to leave.

✰ you finally started dating, and she was just so happy to call you hers. even after you went home, you kept calling and playing together constantly. when you finally went public, the whole internet lost it.

✰ she was constantly saying “my girl” this and “my girl” that, never ever getting tired of talking about you. her fans teased her for it, but she just laughed it off.

✰ after that semester ended, she fought with all she had to get transferred to your college. when she finally did, you both rented an apartment together. it was amazing, the perfect blend of chaos and coziness. the place soon started feeling like home.

✰ she would show her chat random pictures she took of you and just go “CHAT LOOK AT MY GORGEOUS WIFE” or “HOW THE FUCK DID I PULL THIS GODDESS?”. she would curse a lot, and you would constantly scream “Language!” only for her to grin and answer “Me? English, why?”

✰ would have those funny ass shirts that just say “I LOVE MY GIRLFRIEND” or “BE GAY, DO CRIMES”. She would wear them on streams and try to wear them outside, only to be forced to take them off and change by you.

✰ you both have matching gamer chairs, the same model just in different colors. the same with your dinosaur stuffed animals. you also both love childish pajamas, like she will be walking around the house in some minecraft pants and shirt and you will be vibing in an hello kitty onesie. it´s your thing by now.

✰ when you met joel, you were terrified to say the least. you held ellie´s hand the whole time. but he eventually warmed up to you and got more comfortable. (once he called you kiddo and you nearly started bawling)

��� she makes up a cool handshake with you, that she forces you to do at every possible moment. it always ends with a small kiss and you both giggling like two little kids. speaking of kisses, she absolutely LOVES public displays of affection. always holding your hand or waist and stealing kisses every now and then.

✰ you get so domestic it´s insane. just cooking together and watching shitty movies and going grocery shopping and streaming together. it all feels so so so perfect.

that´s it! love you all so much!

[the-rare-shipyard]

Powers back on!!

Anyways here's a sketch of Dagur's tattoo and Hiccup's chest tattoo, he has one on his back as well that I still need to sketch out.

More about the Rival AU below the cut!

-Dagur is 22 and Hiccup is 18 when they first start arguing. -Stoick owns a bar, Hooligan's tavern, that Hiccup starts working as a busser/server at. -Dagur is the drummer/singer of a rock band called The Berserkers depending on the song. -Dagur's band started playing about two years before Hiccup's, bouncing from bar to bar, always catching Hiccup's attention when they played in their bar. -Hiccup and the others get together and make a band called The Furies (Haven't decided what genre, maybe rock/folk rock?) -At first the rivalry is born out of anger on Dagur's side, Dagur starts spitting that the only reason Hiccup is on a stage is because his dad owns it. -Hiccup takes it as a challenge and starts to mouth off about Dagur's band, how he's only got a crowd because his father is a famous musician. -Over the next year the two will get into verbal and physical arguments after their shows, especially when they end up in the same venue on the same night. -The bars definitely like pitting them against each other to draw in bigger crowds so they tend to schedule them on the same nights. -Dagur gets arrested for the murder of his father when he's 23. -No one knows exactly what happened that night, no significant evidence is brought forward, and nothing is ever said about it. -Ask people and they'll say it was a setup, or that someone wanted him out of the way, or that he wanted his father out of the way. -Some fingers point at Hiccup and their rivalry, but those rumors died out quick. -Over the next two years the rumors go silent, and the case is forgotten by most people who weren't fans or frequent bar flyers. -Hiccup's band is gaining traction, beginning to bounce from venue to venue -One day evidence is anonymously handed in and while it resulted in Dagur's freedom and his charges being dropped, it doesn't reveal Oswald's true killer. -Local talk tells Hiccup that all the venues are denying Dagur's band and if he doesn't find a place to play soon, he's going to be cut. -So, Hiccup offers him a proposition, keep up their rivalry on stage since it used to bring a huge crowd for them both and he can open for The Furies wherever they play. -They keep up their rivalry on stage but after their performances are over it's easy to spot them in a booth in the back of the bar talking over a couple of drinks. -During a local line-up concert, while The Furies are waiting for their turn Dagur opens with a song Hiccup hadn't heard him play before, softer than what he usually plays. -He almost has to go outside to cool down when Dagur dedicates the song to him for helping him when he thought he didn't deserve it. -They start to meet up outside of the bars after that, occasional coffees and lunches, jam sessions in the privacy of the closed bar or at either of their houses -Just when things start to get serious between the two, Hiccup is beaten near to death by someone when he's closing up the bar one day. Dagur was supposed to pick him up and is the one who finds him. -The cameras behind the bar had been tampered with so no one knows who actually did it, but fingers point quickly, people had seen them together and accuse him of beating Hiccup up -He ends up back in jail until Hiccup wakes up and reveals who actually did it.

I can't say much else without major spoilers to the full fic that is sure to start coming out soon. As well as the Viggo-doesn't-know-about-the-bounty fic, I had to rework some stuff in that one.

[mantequillamcwhoremick]

I'LL DO ANYTHING BRO 🙏🙏🙏🙏 I'M BEGGING 😭😭😭😭😭 PLEASE RAMBLE

Alright, so.

First thing about it is the setup of the scenes; the chapter could've been easily split into two because it's LONG and either scene has plenty of content on its own to make up for the lack of the other, but I really didn't wanna split it because the tragedy in it all was enhanced so well by them playing together.

In the first scene we have flashbacks of Butters as Kenny knew him; the true heart of their relationship, an in-depth exploration of WHY Butters was so important to him. Why he wasn't just any friend, why none of Kenny's other friends can even remotely fill the hole he left behind— not even Tweek, even though he believes Kenny about his curse too. We see Butters as he is in the show; a chipper kid, soft and caring, someone who comforts those who need it without thinking about it twice.

"Butters moved Heaven and Hell to get to him so he wasn’t alone" means that Butters would often break his parents' rules, sneak out when he was supposed to do chores, study, be grounded— he risked everything to be there for Kenny. This hasn't been explicitly mentioned in the fic but it will, and it plays into why Kenny feels so guilty about Butters' disappearance and everything that went downhill in the Stotch house.

Then we have the second scene, and— dare I say— the first real introduction to Vic Chaos. Butters and Chaos have haunted the narrative since the first chapter, and now we finally see them as one in the flesh, and it's a violent contrast to the soft and chipper Butters we saw just now: Butters, as Kenny knew him five years ago, vs. Vic Chaos, an impulsive man who shoots careless bullets around the room and hammers in on Kenny's head with a metal chair.

I wish I could've done a better job at it still, but in a way, what I'm trying to recreate in Chaos Plan is this feeling I got when I saw Vic Chaos in "Post Covid: The Return Of Covid" for the first time. This man, who is so unmistakably Butters (Matt & Trey really did a great job aging up all the boys honestly, they're all perfectly recognizable), and yet so distant it's chilling. Kyle's attempted warning to Cartman in that same special is a perfect representation of the chilling reality of who Butters has become:

Kyle: Cartman, listen to me very carefully. Butters has some kind of power over people. You guys aren't safe. Cartman: Uh, yes, about 12:30. Kyle: [stunned] Did you hear what I said? Butters is extremely dangerous!

He leaves behind a trail of literal death and destruction, then "waltzes out like nothing happened" (actual quote from the fireman in this scene), in the same upbeat way we know Butters is usually like. In s16's "Butterballs" this is what Butters says to his grandma after his violent outburst on live TV:

I got real mean and I beat the snot outta Dr. Oz. I can't lie, it felt kind of good. At first. But since then all I have is just... a kind of dark, empty feeling. Then I realized... that's how you must feel. All the time.

In both Chaos Plan as well as Post Covid (the bad ending), Butters has embraced this side of himself. This careless, built-up rage from years and years of the world beating down on him and then leaving him trapped alone, to his own devices. There is an endless "dark, empty feeling" inside him that he has been both forced to and let himself succumb to, distant from everything he used to be— even his own name.

And he keeps the mask up perfectly throughout the whole fight with Mysterion. At first they banter, flirt a little, even. Does he realize what he's doing when he says things like "Couldn't let him take the cake, could I?" or "Oh, you’ll sign your name, all right. All after I’m done with you"? I doubt it; Butters is notorious for being oblivious to obvious innuendo. It's all a game to him, he's stuck somewhere between being a kid playing the villain with a flair for the dramatic, and someone who's gotten desensitized and numb to the horrors of life.

So what snaps him out of it?

Bodily harm. Or the threat of it.

Cartman: Godammit Butters, stop playing games! My entire family is in danger of being wiped out and I swear to God if you don't help me, Butters, I will rip your fucking balls off with my bare hands! Vic Chaos: Ohh hamburgers.

Suddenly he isn't Chaos anymore. He isn't Vic, he isn't a mastermind scammer, hacker, he is none of the masks he wears to desperately smother whoever is below. He is just Butters, a kid who is afraid of pain.

[grogumaximus]

As a performance engineer, he is the man who keeps an eye on all the data in a complex world like Formula 1 and leaves no stone unturned to see how to get even more speed out of the RB20. “For example, I can see how the tires behave individually, how high the temperature of the brakes is and how the hybrid systems of the engine behave,” says Hart in the Red Bull hospitality area.

Together with Lambiase, Michael Manning and David Mart, he is part of the regular group of engineers around world champion Verstappen.

“And GP is the one who talks to Max during sessions, so he has to filter all our information and assess what he finds relevant to pass on to Max. And then as a driver he now has an enormous library of experience. Max is ultimately the best sensor. He senses what he is up against and can make it very clear whether he wants to try something different and what exactly. He is very direct and knows what he wants. There is no room for politics or bullshit.”

In order to be able to empathize with Lambiase's work, Hart occasionally takes his position as race engineer, as was the case on Friday during both training sessions in Imola. Hart explains how a weekend is broadly divided.

“First we have to make sure that the car behaves as we expected. Then we look at how we can get more out of the speed over one lap. Where do we lose time in the bends, does Max feel limited somewhere at the beginning or at the end of such a bend? We then look at the longer runs and how we can protect ourselves against possible dangers.”

With the help of his engineer, a driver can adjust the necessary things on his steering wheel, for example when it comes to the brake balance or the differential. As far as Verstappen and Red Bull are concerned, the Azerbaijan Grand Prix last year is a good example of this. For Verstappen, that race in Baku was the turning point in the season.

“In those first four races, Checo (teammate Sergio Pérez, ed.) and Max were close together. But in terms of setup and the tools he uses, Max has gone in a completely different direction since that race in Baku. He has twelve so-called switch positions that he can use. He tested many of them in Baku, while normally you use two or three in a weekend. Max learned a lot then, and so did we."

Since that race in Baku, more than a year ago, Verstappen has not won only three races. While the Dutchman himself is almost never completely satisfied with how a race weekend is going, this also appears to apply to his engineers.

“Coincidentally, we were still talking about it together on Thursday evening. We as engineers are a bit like the goalkeepers in football. It's only when we make a big mistake that it becomes noticeable. We have to keep pushing to see if we can improve anything in areas where we are not yet performing optimally. And even if we are faster than the rest in every corner, we are still not satisfied and we look at where we have left something behind. Everything worked great in China, and then in Miami with the same car we didn't have the speed. And then afterwards you can understand so well why that is, here in Imola there is a completely different asphalt, the conditions are different and the tire compounds are also different.”

Given the immense pressure and expectations, Hart considers Verstappen's victory in 2021 in front of his own audience in Zandvoort as his personal highlight. The Englishman started working as Alex Albon's performance engineer in 2020 before being transferred to Verstappen the following year.

“With Alex we mainly looked at how we could close the gap with Max with the same material. With Max you look less at the other side of the garage. His experience, not only in Formula 1 but also with other cars, helps us. Actually, after a racing weekend I am also a kind of translator. In the debrief Max tells us what his limitations were. Drivers speak their own language. We then look at his words with the people in the factory in combination with the collected data.”

And yes, Verstappen may be the most important sensor, but he also sometimes has to rely on the information from his engineers on the pit wall and in the garage. They now have the complete overview.

“Especially in races where we play the longer game ,” says Hart. “We can see what the lap times of the other drivers are and how the different tires are worn. For example, if we say that Max needs to change something on his handlebars, he may well think: the balance is now just right. But then we have to prepare for later in the race. If you wait until the front tires are on, you will be too late. We always have to think one step ahead, otherwise you go too slowly.”

[kianamaiart]

Do you think “Moon Sailor” was a bit, on the nose?

it was intended to be! i made the pilot while keeping in mind that the magical girl genre is actually somewhat niche

i wanted to make sure people like my parents or my girlfriend's law school peers or people who don't watch anime at all could easily follow and understand what's going on. if i asked my parents to name a magical girl anime, they'd be like "what is that" but if i asked them what sailor moon was, they'd be like "oh yeah i've seen those characters before!" sailor moon undoubtedly iconic and people IMMEDIATELY know what it is upon hearing it. "moon sailor" is VERY OBVIOUSLY a parody of that so it's easy to get in that one second of time i have before moving on.

the tricky thing about doing a pilot is the setup and the trickier thing about doing a SUBVERSIVE pilot is that you have to set up what you're subverting on top of everything else. that's why zira's dialogue and language is also a bit expository and on the nose during the "gasp" part. there are people watching who don't know the magical girl genre and its tropes! like how is someone supposed to know that aika anticlimactically poofing into her magical form was a joke if they didn't even know that a magical girl transformation was SUPPOSED to happen? i thought i spelled out hoshi's whole thing pretty well or didn't really need to go that into it but i saw a lot of people confused about what they were and why they were there at all (until zira tells us that they're a magical mascot).

back to "moon sailor," it's a silly one off joke meant to quickly signal to the audience that zira likes manga/anime and the magical girl genre specifically as well as circumvent copyright. i also personally just like on the nose bits hahaha. like on big city greens whenever we parody a brand we usually just put a "B" in front of it. one of my favorite being "blego blocks"

this turned into unsolicited writing advice and definitely more than what you asked for but i hope its helpful to anyone out there looking to make their own shows!! clarity, spelling stuff out and sometimes handholding is important especially in a pilot. even though it can feel stilted sometimes, it's better than completely losing your audience or leaving them with questions. but now that the pilot's done it's job, any following episodes i might make will be unburdened by too much expository language haha

[hellfire--cult]

Long Distance Bf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

wc: 17.7k

+18 reader is a gamer, talk about games, long distance, pining, sex toys, mentions of phone sex and video sex, established relationship, slight angst, reader being insecure, kissing, oral (f and m), rough, spit, dirty talking, p in v (unprotected), eddie being a sweetheart as well as a perv in a good way

Summary: You didn't plan it, but through a game lobby you met the person who would become your long distance boyfriend. The time came for him to visit you for the first time after five months of dating... and you are not going to hold back.

a/n: thank you to @ghost-proofbaby for proofreading and fixing so much shit, as well as @andvys cause these bitches betaread almost every filth i write. this was supposed to be a v-day fic, so happy belated valentine's day.

Please reblog, be kind.

NO MORE BUFFERING

“Eddie, what kind of internet do they have in Hawkins? You’re lagging like shit… again.”

“Don’t disrespect it–” Silence, a robotic voice coming in making you roll your eyes. “–It’s a small town–” and again. “–You know.”

“No, cause I didn’t hear half the shit you said.” He froze on the screen for a second before the call dropped. A second later, your phone started ringing, making you scoff with a smile, answering the video call. 

“I am so tired of this shit, sweetheart.” You saw his mop of curls coming into view as he placed the phone standing straight on his desk. You saw he was shirtless as he put cream on his hair, one of your requests after seeing the dryness and open ends on them.

“I told you to call the company many times!” 

“It’s not the company, Hawkins is shit.” You giggled at his outburst, feeling your cheeks flush the more you looked at the expanse of his chest. The arms covered in tattoos, and you could see the happy trail going down into his sweatpants, which were too low, and his bush started sticking out a bit. “You done checking me out?”

“You’re hot.” You heard him chuckle on the other side of the screen. Your lovely boyfriend just posed for the camera, pretending to be in a vogue magazine or something. You giggled as you felt your cheeks heat up. No matter how many months had passed, he would still make you feel giddy and nervous. Who would have thought that the stranger standing on the other side of the screen would become your long distance boyfriend?

You didn’t plan it, really. It just happened.

Since you were little you liked playing video games. You adored it. Unlike some of the girls and boys in your school who did sports and stuff, you preferred to stay home with your Playstation 1, then the second one, then the Wii, then your first computer to play on. You made friends along the years, but then those friends lost interest in video games.

Nowadays, you have a full on gamer setup built in a room of your apartment. You also had studied Video Game 3D blending and you have a very well-paying job at a game producer company. You were basically living the life you always wanted to have. Your friends didn’t mind that you were a hermit or a little introvert with yourself. They learned to love you that way, often just laying on the bed as you play games, just being there for company, and you greatly appreciated that.

The problem was, none of your friends played online, and you were sick and tired of going into teams with random people in Call of Duty, and you were also disgusted and fed up with the men that just insulted you in game just because you were a woman, even if your score was better than what they did. They just kept insulting you, reporting you, and you encountered maybe just one woman every night in the lapse of ten matches. 

So, you opened your Discord app, where you can join community servers of fandoms, and you joined the Call of Duty official server. You wanted to build a team, or to join one where they would not judge you. Maybe you could find an all-girl team in there. Your mouse moved around, looking through the topic channels to find what you were looking for. Finally, there it was.

‘Team finder.’

You decided to give it a try and joined that channel, seeing the people messaging each other, some asking for teammates and revealing their status in the game. You were pretty high in rank, so you were trying to look for a team that had the same one or close. Suddenly, a user that went by ‘i wear weird al shirts’ sent a message.

‘Looking for just one more teammate. We are looking for either a diamond or crimson rank!’

Your heart beat a little bit rapidly as you replied to them, telling them you were crimson rank. You received a message request later, privately, and you saw it was that same username, introducing themselves as Dustin. You checked their profile card, seeing they went by he/him. You were very respectful with the online community’s pronouns, so you always made sure to get them right.

He told you that they have a server for the teammates only, but that they would like to test how they feel with your gaming ability first. You licked your lips a bit and hovered over your keyboard, wondering if you should tell him you are in fact a woman. But you don’t know the rest of the team, so there might be another girl in there. 

You gave Dustin your username, immediately receiving an invite in game. You joined the crew. You entered a very silent lobby, the other five people inside but not talking. You assumed that they were talking to each other in that private discord. You now hovered on your hot key to push to talk in game, but you didn’t quite want them to know you were a woman yet. Finally, one talked.

“Hello! I’m Gareth!”

“You are just going to give out your name like that? Christ.” Three guys for now. So you got Dustin, Gareth, an annoyed person and you are left to know two more. 

“Stop having a stick up your ass, Mike. I’m Jeff.” Another guy.

“I’m Eddie, the most handsome guy in here.” You saw the speaker icon at the top of their characters light up each time they talked.

“Shut up, Eddie. Let’s just play and see if this guy is any good.” This Mike dude was very irritable. Your eyebrow twitched when he called you ‘guy’. They thought you were a man.

“Hang on, maybe it’s a lady!” The character of the guy named Gareth lit up.

“As if.” Mike talked once more and your anger was slowly rising - you were committed to make this guy eat his fucking words. When you get angry in game, you get ten times better, and this stupid little man is gonna wish he got on your good side by the end of it.

“You ain’t going to present yourself, sugar?” The Eddie guy talked and you decided to type by now.

‘If by the end of the game you guys want me in your party, I will.’

“Fair enough.” He responded and you sighed in relief. They went silent, and you could only guess they were talking on the discord again to each other. They started the game.

You got first kill.

First headshot.

The guys were cheering you on. Even the Mike guy was going insane over you.

You ended up as Player of the game. You smiled in triumph as you laid back on your chair. The guys cheered for you in the lobby, and you received a message from Dustin, the invite to a server called, ‘Hellfire Club’. What an odd name. They played nice, and they were fun with their commentary, the problem was if they would accept you when they learned you are a woman. One way to find out.

You clicked on the link, accepting the invite. You saw them all connected to the voice chat, and you felt your belly turning with nerves. You licked your lips as you took a deep breath in, seeing the messages in the chat to join them. You pressed on the voice chat, their voices blasting in your ears, cheering for you.

“Look who it is! Our champion! Our savior!” Dustin yelled and you smiled, containing a laugh. 

“May we ask for the name of our brilliant knight?” You saw Eddie’s icon light up at his voice. This was it.

“Lady.”

Silence. Radio fucking silence. This was the part where you get kicked out, wasn’t it? Or where they start bashing on you, or bully you, or assume you are cheating in the game. 

“Holy fucking shit!” The guy Jeff exclaimed as they started laughing, Dustin’s icon lighting up then.

“Mike, you better fucking apologize cause she carried your sorry ass just now!” You rolled your eyes, not even thinking the guy would properly apologize but–

“I am so sorry, I am forever in your debt.” Your eyes widened and then you saw on your other monitor how, thanks to this match, Mike had ascended rank in game. 

“Uh, no problem.” You didn’t want to make your voice cheery, or high pitched with emotion, just in case you would annoy these guys. Eddie talked again through chuckles.

“We have a goddess in our land, boys, we gotta behave.” You sat there, expectantly as you waited for everyone to settle down. Then Eddie, who you saw was the one who created the server to begin with, talked to you again. “Does the goddess have a name?”

You gave your name softly, and each guy greeted you properly. You were stunned at this change of scenery. These guys were chill with you, but you really do wonder–

“Aren’t you guys freaked out that a girl is playing with you?”

“Are you kidding? One of our members was a girl too, she kicked ass, the sister of a friend. She started school so she is not able to play with us as much as before!” Dustin explained and your mouth fell open at that. They didn’t care if you’re a girl. They just cared that you played nice. 

“Ahem, sweetheart.” Your body straightened up at the pet name, not disliking it at all for some reason. “You wanna join Hellfire?”

Every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, you all played together for hours. Mostly were wins thanks to you and Eddie, then there were some losses, but not a single game was toxic. They raged sure, but you weren’t far behind.

“COCK SUCKING SLUT, YOU FUCKING CHEATING PIECE OF SHIT!” You yelled loudly, ready to throw your controller across the room because you knew you found someone using a bot to aim perfectly at the head. 

The boys’ laughter resonated in your ear, and Gareth was always the one to try to calm you down. You were so happy to have found a group that liked you, that had fun with you, and honestly was super interactive. The boys shared their foods, purchases, even clothes they bought in the general chat of the server. They showed their pets as well, Eddie, you and Jeff being the only two who didn’t own any.

You confessed you’ve always wanted a rat, and while most of the guys disagreed, Eddie was on your side 100%. He found rats cute, and he knew that they are as intelligent as a seven month old puppy.

One night in particular, after a month of talking with them, they decided to have a drinking night with you. Even if they were close to each other in distance, they stayed in their homes so that you could join and not feel left out. You were so thankful for them, but that meant you would be on camera for the first time. You wondered what they imagined you looked like, and you wondered how they looked like as well. They never shared pictures in the chat, and you never shared yours. You assumed they just wanted to keep their privacy. They knew each other in real life, unlike you.

So you got yourself out of your hermit clothes, put on makeup, even did your hair a bit. You put on an oversized sweater and prepared your beer in front of your PC. You took a deep breath in as you fixed the camera at the top of your monitor and you looked at yourself in the preview before joining the voice chat. You could see everyone pinging you, hurrying you, and you finally clicked the button.

The boys cheered as you came on the screen. You saw how they clapped and whooped. Only one person was not saying anything and– Oh fuck… 

You didn’t expect Eddie to look like that. You didn’t expect Eddie to look like your type. Oh, fuck. And he wasn’t talking. He wasn’t saying anything, why?

“Hey, Munson, you alright there?” Jeff asked with a snicker on his lips, which made Eddie finally snap out, his curls falling on his face. You didn’t know if it was because of the lighting or what, but his face turned slightly red. 

“Yep, totally fine. I’m just bummed I have to give up my throne.” Your eyebrows met in the middle a bit, staring into his camera only.

“Your throne?”

“Prettiest from the group, duh.” At his words, Gareth whistled, Mike and Dustin laughing with a cringe, but you felt yourself flush all over. It’d been a while since you got complimented like that, but that was because you truly never went out. You can’t even remember when was the last time you had sex. Your dildo doesn’t count.

“I beg to differ.” You commented and that seemed to catch Eddie off guard, because he choked a bit with his saliva. Jeff laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera.

“You guys want us to leave?” And was it evil for you to wish that? A bit. You chuckled and shook your head as you raised your can towards the camera.

“I thought this was a drinking night?”

After that camera call, it seemed the boys were keen to keep putting the cameras when in the voice chat. You did as well, taking them grocery shopping and to the pet store to look at rats, the only one aww’ing at them being Eddie. But there was one particular call where Jeff, Gareth and Eddie were together while Mike and Dustin were not online.

“Welcome to your first Corroded Coffin concert, sweetheart!” You were in awe as you saw them play, but Eddie– Eddie caught your eye. He had been catching your eye for a while, and after exchanging instagrams with everyone, that attraction only grew. 

But what were you thinking? He lived in Indiana, you lived in Virginia. This was just attraction over a guy you’ll probably meet in a year if this online thing doesn’t fall apart. It’ll go away. It had to.

Yet there was one night, where Mike, Dustin, Eddie and you were playing together, Dustin and Mike telling you that they were heading to bed. You pouted a bit on camera, not really wanting to go to sleep, but you knew the gaming night was over. You said goodbye to Mike and Dustin, about to say goodnight to Eddie as well, but–

“I’m not tired, you wanna stay on call with me, sweetheart?”

One call turned to two, to three, to four, to times when you both pretended to be offline so you could call each other privately. You watched movies, talked about TV shows, about one another’s lives, likes and dislikes, and soon, your attraction turned into a crush. Your heart raced whenever you called him, whenever you woke up with good morning messages from him, and then you called each other every single day. 

You shouldn’t have done this. You were now with a crush on a man who lived miles away from you. And maybe he didn’t even feel the same for you, just that he found a new friendship in you and maybe he just wanted a feminine touch in his life.

“This movie fucking sucked ass, Eddie.” You laughed as you rubbed your eyes, the credits of the movie you two watched together rolling up. You looked at his face as he laughed into his hands in shame.

“This is what I get for following Steve’s suggestion, for fucks sake.” ‘Drag me to hell’, supposedly a great scary movie. Sure, if you think a possessed talking goat is scary.

“Tell Steve that if I ever meet him, I’m tying him to a chair so he forcefully watches the ridiculous 6. That will cause him an aneurysm.” You heard him scoff, putting a hand to his chest in feigned offense.

“Take that back right now!” You could only giggle, shaking your head.

“No, I’m standing by what I said.” 

“Take it back–”

“Make me.” Suddenly he went silent and your smile fell. Did you fuck it up? Did you go overboard with that?

“Do you want me to?” His voice was not playful, no… it was flirty… Oh, he was flirting with you. Eddie was flirting with you. 

“Mmm, I don’t know. Depends on how you do it.” This time you heard him groan, your heart beating out of your chest as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the camera and the screen, probably looking at you.

“Okay, I think it’s time we cut to the chase, shouldn’t we, sweetheart?” 

“What do you mean?”

“I enjoy being alone with you here, do you enjoy being alone with me?” You felt your body flushing all over, sweat appearing on your fingertips.

“I do… a lot.” And he nodded. You noticed how he nervously looked at the camera and then at the screen. He ran a hand through his hair before he spoke again.

“Darling… I know it’s fucking stupid, and– Kind of weird– but, fuck… I have never met a girl like you. In my entire fucking life. I mean– Who the fuck listens to the Sims 1 soundtrack on the daily?” Your eyes widened at that, gasping.

“I do! It’s very comforting!” He only chuckled, shaking his head.

“And something I never heard in my life… You’re weird.” His eyes were soft as he looked at you. You bit your bottom lip as you played with your fingers on your lap. 

“Is that a good thing?”

“I really like you, sweetheart.”

And the words took a while to process in your brain. This guy that never got to touch you, or see your entire body, likes you. He just does. He likes you because of who you are, not exactly how you look. The cameras on were just a plus to make the calls even more personal, which only made your crush grow bigger.

A smile spread on your lips as you saw him covering his face with his hair, acting shy, peeking through it as if he were hiding. He was cute. Such a dork. And so handsome… and gentle. Caring. He bought you a plushie you wanted from Kingdom Hearts that you saved in your wishlist. You were surprised when you received it, not knowing if you accidentally bought it, but the note inside made your heart melt on the spot.

‘Happy birthday, my goddess.’

“I really like you too, Eddie.”

So no, you didn’t plan it. You didn’t plan to date someone online for five months. You presented him to your friends and even if a little weirded out, they really didn’t expect something else coming from you. They were happy you found someone, even if not in the practical way. 

The boys already knew. They had confessed to you, embarrassing Eddie in the process, that he never stopped talking about you. He praised you whenever he could, reminding everyone you were a lady and beautiful and that you had to be respected. 

But in a relationship come needs. Eddie is handsome. He is… well, he is hot. You find him extremely attractive, inside and out. Your dildo could be named Eddie at this point from how many times you used it and called his name out loud, pretending your pink dildo was his cock. 

So, in one bold movement, after a month of properly dating, you decided to do your first bold move. You sent him a suggestive picture of your cleavage. 

‘Should I wear this top for Heather's party?’ 

It had taken him a moment to reply to you, making you wonder if he was busy or if he was just staring at your picture. You started second guessing yourself, wondering, again, if you had gone too far, only for your phone to ping.

‘Sweetheart, do you want me to die?’

‘Why? I’m just asking a simple question…🥺’

‘Can you send more pictures? Or a video works best, I need to do a thorough inspection to give a verdict.’

And the sexting part began. Then the pictures were no longer suggestive, just plain nude. He started that one after you sent a picture of yourself in your lacey underwear and bunny ears in front of your full-length mirror.

‘I’m so fucking hard right now, darling, you have no fucking idea.’ He sent this message with a blurred picture attached. You knew what it could be but– You were not prepared. You were not prepared for what you saw. Not only was it big. Not only it was curved. But Eddie had a tattoo along the shaft. He had Sindarin markings on the underside. 

It made you wet in an instant. 

Sexting turned into phone sex with video calls. He saw you, you saw him. He saw you fucking yourself in your dildo as you moaned his name, and you saw him fuck his hand to yours. It was daily, if not every two days. You had never done this before, but fuck if it wasn’t hot. Hot, yet not enough. 

Which brings you to five months into the relationship, and the present day.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He called out as you hummed, still looking at his body as if you were daydreaming. He laughed, leaning over to look into the phone camera. “Stop drooling over me, for just a second.”

“No way, not possible, live with it.” He shook his head at you, his smile faltering slightly with nerves and you tilted your head in wonder as you felt your stomach flip with nervousness. “What’s wrong–”

“Nothing is wrong. I promise! But uhm… well… With the new job, I managed to… kind of save up.”

“For what?”

“Visiting you.”

Your brain short-circuited. You had explained to Eddie that you couldn’t visit him for a while, not until your video game project was done with, and your work days were never set. You couldn’t take your PC with you, so you had to stay home. 

“What?”

“I– Tell me to fuck off if you’re not comfortable, I just– I really want to see you. There’s… a flight on… Valentine’s day.”

You felt yourself melt in your seat as you heard his words. He wanted to meet you for the first time and not on just any day. Valentine’s day. You knew Eddie had been struggling with finding a good paying job a few months back, finally landing a good one as a mechanic in his town.

“You… You got a new job and instead of saving up for the new guitar–”

“I saved up to finally meet you, yes– but if you tell me you’re not ready, I’ll go and just buy–”

“Yes… please…” And you two stared at one another for a few seconds, your heart beating wildly in your throat as he stood there.

“I– Yes?”

“Yes, I want you to come here, Eddie.” 

You saw him walk backwards cheering with his fists in the air, and you smiled as he jumped excitedly, his hair bouncing all around him. You saw his uncle Wayne opening the door to see what Eddie was doing, and you couldn’t help but snort as Eddie stopped and pointed at his phone.

“I’m meeting my girlfriend!”

“Okay? Uh–” Wayne looked at you and nodded in greeting, “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi, Wayne.” His uncle didn’t live with Eddie, but he came to visit often and even stayed for a day or two at his home. At Eddie’s request. It seemed Eddie wanted independence, but he was too attached to Wayne. He had explained to you about his past, about his family, and it was completely understandable that he couldn’t let Wayne go that easily. 

“Keep it down, I’m excited for you two, but your neighbors will complain again.” And like that, he closed the door. The nerves invaded you once again and you saw Eddie rushing to grab the phone and taking you as he sat on the computer. You saw him typing away, and you knew he was looking to book that flight right away. 

You saw the concentration in his scrunched-up features, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he squinted at the screen, clicking away. Excitement built in your belly as you looked at him. As you looked at a guy that just lived far away, yet you’ve never felt more connected to in your entire life.

A guy you fell in love with, despite the recent connectivity issues.

“BOOKED!” He yelled excitedly and you giggled, covering your mouth as you thrashed around, finally realizing you would meet him. You would meet Eddie. You would meet your boyfriend for the very first time, and on Valentine’s day to top it off. That would be a month away, and you could tell your work to give you a breather the week he stays with you, to not bother you as much.

You were excited… but nervous as fuck.

What if he doesn’t like you? What if he sees you and is disgusted? Should you kiss him as a greeting? Were the flowers in your hand too stupid to give to him? He said he liked them, so you got him some because men also deserve flowers on Valentine's day. You were standing at the Arrivals gate, just where Eddie had told you he would get off on. 

You had prepared your home from top to bottom, cleaned it all up, and you even went to get a Bikini Wax with Heather. You exfoliated your skin, put on some lotion, and you were going a little bit crazy with it– But, was today the day? Not only were you going to meet him, but should it also be the time where you could confess to him?

You didn’t know if it was too soon or not, being the first time you ever fell in love for real in your life. You were pretty sure it was love. How could it not be? Eddie had not answered you for a whole day once, and you could not get in contact with him at all. His location was also off. Your first thought was very dark, afraid he had gotten into an accident with his motorcycle or something. You had called Gareth and you demanded him to go take you to Eddie.

You made him go to Eddie’s house while on a video call with you, and when he arrived and knocked on the door, Wayne had answered. Eddie had caught Mono. You were relieved yet the stress didn’t leave you at all. Wayne showed you Eddie’s state on video, and you saw him breathing at least, with a warm towel on his forehead and all. 

When he started messaging you back, you told him you were relieved but you had asked Wayne for his own phone number just in case. You remember Eddie being touched by how much you cared, and the fact that Wayne trusted you enough to give him his personal information just for the sake of knowing Eddie was okay.

You were clearly in love, and gone. You were holding flowers, balloons in the shape of bats and hearts. You looked silly, but you noticed some people looking at you with smiles on their faces, knowing you were most likely hopelessly in love waiting for your partner. They were absolutely right.

Suddenly, the doors opened and you held your breath in as people started walking out. You saw a family getting back together, then an old lady and a man who brought her flowers, kids greeting their mother. You were nervously waiting and– did you get the gate wrong? Maybe you did? Should you check your phone to make sure? That is nonsense, you checked like forty times, but maybe you looked at it wrongly–

And then, you saw him, dressed all in black, guitar strapped to his back, his hair pulled up in a bun, his left hand dragging the carry on. His other hand? It was holding a rat plushie with cotton flowers in its hands. You felt your eyes burning as you saw him looking around, your heart literally about to jump out of your chest and your stomach twisting with vines of nerves. This would be it. You did small little jumps with your feet, rising your heels and then putting them back down, over and over again and–

His eyes finally clashed into yours. His face lit up instantly, a smile spreading from ear to ear, his dimples showing off completely. He was so beautiful in real life and you just felt complete. You felt so giddy, something you never thought you would feel for someone else, at least not in the way you met that someone.

You bounced on your feet excitedly, smiling widely at him. His face, still smiling, made a confused frown as he looked around at what you got him. His feet started working, rushing your way as you waited by the limit. You were finally going to hold him. You were finally going to feel his warmth and spend time with him and–

You heard a huge thud of something falling and then big arms closed around you. Your arms wrapped around him, trying to not let go of his gifts but you felt like crying from how happy you felt. How whole you suddenly became. To be able to hug the person you have been talking to for months, that you have shown the most intimate parts of yourself.

His face was deep in the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you realized he had thrown the carry on to the ground as well as the plushie he got you. It was okay. You didn’t care. You felt his hands all over your back as if he was holding something so precious that he was afraid it would fall apart if he let go. And maybe, it would. Now you don’t know how you will be able to keep going with your daily life once he is gone. How you’ll keep going without his hugs, kisses and–

You flushed all over as your thoughts became impure, in just one single instant. Oh, he smelled good. He smelled so fucking good. You were in such bliss, you didn’t want to let go, but you knew you had to. You felt him pulling away for a second, his eyes meeting yours and you held your breath tightly as you waited for him to kiss you. He was going to, wasn’t he?

“Are these for me?” He suddenly asked and you were so stunned, looking down to your hands and you smiled widely, giving the flowers to him, as well as the balloons. He chuckled as the smile never left his lips. You saw a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he looked at them. “I never received flowers in my life– Valentine’s day gifts at that.” 

“Me neither.” He smiled at you, putting all the gifts in one hand so he could bend down and pick up the plushie that had those cotton flowers in the middle. You squealed loudly as you grabbed it, inspecting it. Suddenly you caught on a scent, making you lean forward and smell it, and– It’s him. It’s his cologne. 

“Sprayed it myself. I may have put a cloth inside and stitched him up again for longer effects.” Your heart was in your throat as you felt overwhelmed with emotions. You hugged the rat tightly to your chest as Eddie stared down at you with a smile on his face. 

“Thank you…” Your voice was small and muffled into the plushie. You looked up at him with bright eyes, hopeful he would lean in, and you needed to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him. But–

“Should we go? I am in terrible need of a cigarette, sweetheart.” You giggled, nodding as he bent down to grab his carry on again with his free hand, and you two walked side by side. The people all around you looked weirdly your way but still kind of adoringly. It was a metalhead guy with flowers and balloons in his hand, of course they would look. 

You two walked through the airport, smiling like idiots. You wished you could hold his hand but he was not able to right now. You were wondering why he didn’t kiss you, and maybe you should? Maybe you should kiss him when you reach your car and he puts the things in the trunk. 

He talked to you about how Wayne made him share his location at all times, the old man worried his nephew was travelling to another state by himself even if where he went, he was not going to be alone at all. You took your free hand to message Wayne, sending him a selfie with you and Eddie, signaling that he arrived safely because Eddie could not grab his phone right now. Wayne sent you a simple ‘take care now, use protection.’ 

That message made you flush all over, knowing that it was something that was going to happen no matter what. Absolutely. Wasn’t it? You wanted it to happen but– What if Eddie didn’t want to? What if he just came here to spend time with you but not to engage in something intimate? Were you looking too much into it? You literally had video sex with each other, so it not happening would be… weird… wouldn’t it?

But maybe… he doesn’t want to after seeing you? Maybe that’s why he didn’t kiss you?

Your self doubt was starting to slowly eat you alive as you reached the car where you parked. He put his carry on inside the trunk and the balloons as well because they would just not let you see on the rearview mirror, plus you might be stopped thanks to them. You bit your lip once you heard the trunk slam shut, Eddie turning your way with a smile on his face. 

“So, ready to take me to your castle, my lady?” You giggled as you nodded, ready to take a step forward in order to be able to tippy toe and signal him you wanted a kiss, but he immediately rushed to the passenger’s side after putting the guitar into the backseat, making you frown slightly. 

You went into the driver’s seat, putting the plushie to sit in the backseat so you could drive while Eddie held his flowers on his lap. He was surprised you had gotten him roses, and he couldn’t stop lavishing over them. As you drove, you put music for each other, and he was babbling away about how the guys wanted to have a call with the two of you together on camera.

“Oh, that’s kinky.” Was your comment and you noticed Eddie nervously chuckling and– Was he nervous? Shit, were you too forward? You didn’t take into account he was as nervous as you. Maybe that’s why he is not making any moves? Not even holding your thigh? 

Fuck, you wanted to jump on him and you had to calm down.

Once you got into your small complex, he was in awe when he entered your apartment. It was big for just one person, and he knew your apartment by now. You had given him a tour but it seems that showing him through video it may have looked a bit smaller than what he had expected. He put the carry on at the entrance as well as the balloons. 

“We should put these in water, I don’t want them to go bad.” He commented, still holding onto the flowers which warmed your heart. You guided him into the kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water, letting him put the flowers in it. Your plushie was left on the dining table so now, your hands were free as well as his. It was already night time, and you just wanted to hold him right now, needing to feel him in your arms again and–

“Did you have dinner yet?” You asked, wanting to cringe at yourself. The air was a little tense, and your self doubt and nervousness was making you feel a little awkward. Maybe it’s not what he expected?

“I didn’t actually, and as far as I remember sweetheart, you told me there was a pizza place here that was fucking delicious.”

“Pete’s. And it will be the best pizza you ever had.” You smiled up at him, swaying a little as you put your hand on the counter. You saw him breathing a bit heavily, nervously, and he cleared his throat.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He smiled and you realized he was not going to make a move at all. You don’t want to hover over him, or read the signs wrong. Fuck. You were becoming restless, even more when you sent a message to the pizza place so you could order and for them to deliver it to your house. 

Meanwhile, Eddie was walking around your apartment, gushing over all the consoles you had. He knew you had them but it was still amazing to him to see them there. He explained to you how he could only afford the Playstation 2 when he made money out of selling weed at his school. You could only smile through your nerves as you both waited for the pizza, sitting on the couch… rather apart. 

Why was he far away? Did he not want to hold you in the same way you wanted to hold him? It was Valentine’s day and he was sitting on the far end of the couch, and you have waited for months for this moment. Should you really take the initiative here? Were you giving wrong signals? No, you’re pretty sure you aren’t. You have batted your eyelashes, you have brushed your fingers against his when handing him the can of beer, your eyes went to his lips many times and he either was not seeing it or– he was playing dumb.

Dark clouds invaded your mind as you went to the bathroom, messaging Heather immediately.

‘He is not doing anything.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He hasn’t even tried to kiss me yet, and the pizza is about to arrive, and all we did was talk, which is nice, but we’ve been doing that for five fucking months.’

‘Okay, maybe you should kiss him? Or just talk to him?’

‘What if he doesn’t…?’ You felt like your heart was about to burst as you thought of that possibility. What if you weren’t what Eddie expected in real life? What if it became way too real for him that he was now regretting ever coming to your house? What if he regretted breaking the illusion that he had of just looking at the screen?

‘I’m sure there’s an explanation… talk to him, don’t be a fucking idiot.’

You heard the doorbell ring and you flushed the toilet, pretending you went in there to just do your business. You walked out to see Eddie looking at the intercom with a frown in his face, seeing the pizza guy on the camera.

“How the fuck do I talk to him?” You laughed as you walked towards it, standing next to Eddie, pressing the button to talk.

“Hi Pete, come on up.” 

“Thank you, honey!” The old man said as you pushed the open front gate button. Eddie’s eyebrows raised in awe at it and then he frowned.

“Wait, Pete?”

“Yeah, the owner!” You smiled at him as you walked to your door, standing on your tippy toes to look through the peephole, your hips swaying excitedly as your mouth watered. You felt eyes on you, but maybe you were just making it up in your mind so that the horrible thoughts would go away from you. You saw Pete coming over and you immediately opened the door, a smile on your face.

“Hello lovely.” He greeted you and you grabbed the pizza from his hands, handing him the money and the large tip you always give him. “You know you always give me too much.”

“No, I don’t. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man rolled his eyes and then he saw Eddie standing behind you, waving at him. 

“Oh, what a lucky guy you are!” You felt your cheeks burn up as you giggled nervously.

“That I am, Pete!” You heard Eddie say and that just made you feel even more confused than before. The old man smiled, tipping his head down once and gave you both a nod.

“Well, I better leave you two alone. Happy Valentine's!” With that, Pete turned and left, letting you close the door and lock it. He could get out of the gate with a button he could press from the inside, so you didn’t have to bother with that one. The smell of pizza filled your nostrils and you moaned in delight as you walked towards the couch.

“This smells so fucking good.” You sat down, looking back to see Eddie just blinking, staring at nothing. “Eddie?”

“Oh–” He snapped out with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing around. “Yeah, yeah, it does.” 

He rushed to sit next to you, and you turned on the TV to at least put something as background noise. You decided to put ‘The Office’ which Eddie and you had binge watched together, having never seen it before. When you opened the box, you saw that Pete had followed your instructions, a smirk appearing in your face. Eddie’s eyes widened, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Oh my god.” He saw the pizza in the shape of a heart, and you giggled at how amazed he looked staring down at it. “How am I supposed to cut into this masterpiece? There’s absolutely no way.”

“Well, we do have to eat.” And that you both did. You dove in, the voices of the show in the background as he gushed over the pizza, and he had to agree with you that it was in fact the best he’s ever had. He told you that the pizzas back in Hawkins will now taste like cardboard compared to this masterpiece.

“Tell Pete he is a god. Like a literal god because, holy fuck.” You heard him groan in delight as he licked his fingers, wiping his hands with a napkin as he collapsed on the backrest of the couch, his eyes closed as if he were full. He only ate two slices, and Eddie was used to eating at least four. You once saw him eat a full sized pizza, claiming he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch. 

“I’ll tell him.” You didn’t want to sound tense or irritated, but you were so happy to have him here and now you didn’t know if you were being selfish for wanting something more to happen, or if you were sad because nothing was happening at all, or if you were anxious and fearful of the possibility that Eddie did not like you in person, as much as he liked you online. 

You grabbed the remaining pizza with the box, surprised still that there are slices left. You also didn’t eat much thanks to the nerves, something your stomach would yell at you later at night, but for now, you were afraid of puking it all out. You stood up and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge to place the entire box in there, not wanting to deal with putting it away in tupperwares to save space.

What should you do now? Should you follow Heather’s advice and talk to him? But what if you make everything become a little more tense than what it already was now? You didn’t know what to do, and Eddie was not helping your case at all. You sighed as you washed your hands in the sink, letting the grease be washed away. You dried your hands with the kitchen cloth before walking out, seeing that Eddie was no longer on the couch. 

You frowned, completely confused, until you heard the water of the sink in the bathroom. You grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, walking towards your room, where your whole setup was as well. The bed was completely pressed into a corner, your LED lights in a perfect purple hue, fairy lights in the shape of stars were lit up across the wall, holding pictures of your friends, your family, the boys back in Hawkins and Eddie. There were a lot of Eddie. 

The door of the bathroom opened, and you turned to see Eddie walking towards your room, his eyes widening at the color of the room and then the yellow from the fairy lights, as if it were a purple sky with stars. He walked further in, looking at your entire PC, whistling out loud. You could only stare at his back, dressed in all black, completely contrasting with your room. 

“Damn, look at this… The pictures don’t do it justice.” Your setup was big. You had three monitors, and a very well updated PC. You needed your computer to be able to have a very fast response time because of your work. Video game 3D blending required a lot from your PC so you always kept it up to date. 

“It was an investment when I started my studies, but I gave my mom her money back in the first three months of my job, even if it was three years later.” You explained and he nodded, looking all around your room, for his eyes to then fall on your bed and then the pictures above it, attached to the fairy lights. 

You looked at his profile as he inspected them, and your heart was bursting with need, lava from a volcano just exploding right inside it. You couldn’t hold it in. The guy in your pictures was no longer far away from you. He was no longer miles and miles away, where you could not touch him. He was in your room. He was here with you. He was standing in front of you.

“Didn’t know you hung these up…”

And you exploded.

“Why?” 

His head turned to look at you, a frown appearing in his face as you stared at him. His face softened when he saw how you were looking at him. Your face was showing him distress, confusion, nervousness, and a bunch of questions that were at the tip of your tongue.

“Why what?” He asked, a nervous smile appearing on his lips and– Now you definitely know something was wrong. You could absolutely see it. You stepped forward and you saw how he stiffened in place. You didn’t know what was going on, but at least he didn’t move away from you because you were able to finally step close to him. Your head tipped back so you could properly look up at him.

“Why don’t you do something?” You saw his gulp, how his eyebrow twitched and his smile fell, and you could feel your entire inside crumble apart. Was he going to tell you now that you weren’t what he had expected? That it became way too real for him that he could barely handle it?

“Darling…”

“Am I not– You don’t like me? I– Am I not what you expected?” Your voice was small, and broken, your eyes burning with incoming tears, and his own widened, desperately reaching out for you to hold your biceps tightly, pulling himself closer to you.

“Don’t you ever think that. Not for a single damn second.” His voice was honest, rough with emotion, so now you were confused as he clenched his jaw. “You are way more than I– Than I fucking deserve to have. I have no idea how the fuck I even bagged someone like you.” 

“But– But I don’t understand… You haven’t even tried to kiss me, or hold my hand… You sat so far away from me–” He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath in. You blinked for a few seconds, and… did he lie to you? “Eddie… are you… a virgin?”

“WHAT?” His voice was loud, and it startled you, making you jump in your spot. His eyes pierced your skull almost in a glare, only to then soften as a sigh escaped his lips. “For fucks sake, I am not.” 

“Then I honestly don’t get it now.” You were angry. You started becoming irritable, annoyed, and you wanted answers. He took a deep breath in, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. His cologne made you calm down instantly, your heart skipping a beat from having him so close to you again. The closest he’s been with you today was the hug you received when seeing each other for the first time.

“I… I won’t be able to hold back.”

You blinked completely confused a few times, looking into his eyes for answers.

“What? What do you mean by that?” He sighed as his hands moved, sending chills down your entire body. They grabbed your waist, giving it a squeeze as he found his voice again.

“I didn’t want you to think I was meeting you right now just to wet my dick… I don’t want you to think that I came to visit you just for that…” 

Now you… you were enraged. 

“Are you a fucking idiot, Edward?” His eyes widened as he pulled his head back to look at your face. It was all tensed up with anger, eyes staring into his with a glare.

“I– Uh… what?”

“You made me fucking doubt myself all day, thinking I wasn’t what you expected! Or that– Or that this was way too fucking real and you became scared and you regretted coming here–” Your eyes started burning once again and you hated yourself for always tearing up when you started an argument. You always felt that stupid lump in your throat, even when you were angry, you got emotional. His eyes were wide, his head shaking from side to side like crazy.

“No, no, no! I’m so sorry I made you feel like that but… it wasn’t. No… It’s– The complete opposite of that.” The room started losing that tensed up air that was filled with anger and misunderstandings, your eyes now softening as you looked at him. His face looked flushed, his eyes were now a bit dilated, looking down at you with a different gaze, one you saw many times on video call when you changed in front of him.

“Then?”

“If I kiss you… I won’t be able to hold back… That’s why I haven’t done it all day. I would have, probably, broken a million laws.” You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your body rising in temperature the more you stared up at him and he looked down at you with that hunger in his eyes you knew too well.

“Eddie… I waited for this for months… I want it too…” Your arms went up to wrap around his shoulders, nerves turning your stomach inside out but they were good nerves. They were amazing nerves. His breath hitched only to then quicken, his hands squeezing your waist once again. “And I don’t want you to hold back.”

That seemed to be his green light. What seemed to be the last string holding him to rationality, and it was literally snapped by you. His lips immediately clashed into yours, sparks flying all around you as electricity ran all over your body. Goosebumps formed on your skin and you sighed happily into the kiss. It was soft, deep, but still not moving. 

He groaned into it and slowly pulled away with a smack, his breath hitting your lips, his eyes still closed. You felt his hands moving, wrapping himself around you, pulling you even closer. He pressed your body against his and you wanted to already moan with how warm he felt. You felt his lips peck yours again, and then pull away.

“Oh, fuck…” Then another peck, your bodies moving. “Fuck, sweetheart–” You didn’t know why he was cursing, yet he gave another peck, a longer one. “I’m done for.” And then one more kiss, “I’m so fucking done for.”

You finally felt your bed hit the back of your knees as his lips started moving against yours in a desperate manner. Nobody had ever kissed you like this. You’ve never felt as desired as you’re feeling right now. His hand went downwards to grab the back of your right thigh and pull it up, pressing it against his hip. His left knee then hit the bed, his other hand grabbing your other leg, and helping you up on the bed as he crawled into the middle of it with you. 

Your lips never separated, not for a single moment. You were chained to him, not wanting to let go at any second, feeling like it’s a lost one if you did. Your back was pressed into the mattress, as your head clashed against your pillow. You could barely breathe as his hands left your legs after he slotted himself right in between them. 

Your choice of clothes was now a pain to you. You should have put on something easier to take off, but you had chosen fucking pants. It was cold out, but it would have made this moment easier. His elbows came to rest against the mattress, one on each side of your head. 

His hips still did not press against yours and you were becoming a little needy, desperate. So, you raised your hips upwards and rubbed yourself on him, making him wince against the kiss, pulling away to look down in between your bodies. You felt the bulge, the big bulge you’ve always looked at and desired to have in your hands, in your mouth and inside. He groaned as his eyes turned to yours again. 

No words were exchanged as your hips were suddenly slammed into the bed again, a moan escaping your lips. He thrusted himself into you, giving you the wish of rubbing his hips against you. You sighed as your hands rubbed the back of his head, making you feel a little dizzy already. His lips immediately clashed with yours again, and you felt his hands all over you, just exploring all over your waist, hips, arms as his hips rubbed and rubbed and rubbed.

You moaned into the kiss, your body shivering when you felt the tip of his tongue entering your mouth, not even asking for permission and it wasn’t like he needed it. He didn’t. He could do whatever he wanted to you tonight. You were going to do whatever you wanted too. You both knew your likes and dislikes, what is okay and what is not. There was no need for questions or permissions.

He groaned into the kiss as you felt him twitch in his pants and against you. You clenched around nothing at all, and you wondered if you could cum by just him rubbing himself against you, because it felt like it. Your belly was burning. You were hoping you would not be able to walk after tonight, or after this entire week. 

Your breathing turned heavy, your hands grabbing at his denim jacket, pulling onto it by the shoulders, and he got the message. He pulled away for a second, ripping the jacket away from himself, only to desperately drop himself back on you, kissing you hungrily once more. The clothes felt constricting now and the heat all over your body was making it feel worse. His tongue was just abusing yours in the most delicious of ways. 

Eddie knew how to kiss. 

Eddie kept his movements on you, up and down, circling and then some dry humping against you that was making you see stars behind your eyelids. He was driving you insane, and your thong, the red lace set you wore today, a set you bought a few days ago with this exact intention, was becoming a wet sticky mess because of this.

You wondered if you were soaking through your pants now, maybe getting the front of his wet and damp too. He was rubbing against your clit in meditated rolls, hearing where you moaned the loudest. He was paying attention to every single detail and reaction he got from you, now learning your body in person and not through a screen. It was like the practical part of an exam, the oral part having passed flawlessly.

Your hips moved with his as his right hand landed on your breast, making your back arch against him with need. You whined into the kiss, and he pulled away from you, a gasp being let out by you. You were so sensitive. The emotions were making your entire body react to the simplest of his touches. 

“You are so fucking perfect.” Your mouth dropped open when his lips connected to the pulse point of your neck. His hand was still kneading your breast over your hoodie, those you loved to wear. Oversized and comfy, but right now, it was something you wanted to rip off of you as if it were burning your fucking skin.

“Eddie… Baby, I need to take it off–” He nodded desperately against you, but before leaving your neck, he gave a soft nibble with his teeth, making you whimper. He kneeled as you sat up, and before you could grab the hem of your hoodie, his hands were almost ripping it off from your body. He pulled it off of you in an instant, leaving you in just your tank top. You saw him lick his lips, and you wanted more, you needed more. Your hands instantly went to the hem of his shirt and he helped you, gladly, to take it off.

Your mouth watered as you saw the chest you’ve only been seeing through a screen for months, finally being able to touch it, kiss it and– Your tongue darted out, licking his chest in an upwards motion, your eyes closed. He threw his head back, shoving the shirt to the abyss, he didn’t care. Your hands scanned his sides, fingertips gliding against the skin, feeling him tense up and his chest hitch when your lips gave a kiss to it. 

He growled, cradling your cheeks in his hands, making you look up at him in a quick and rough motion you didn’t dislike, but it made you stop your kisses and kitten licks against his chest, over his tattoos. His lips crashed against yours again, deep and desperate only to then be pushed back down on the bed. He was towering over you, chest moving up and down rapidly, his eyes looking down at the button of your jeans. You gulped as you moved your hips to signal him he could move.

So he did. His hands instantly rushed to rip the button open and pull the fly down. Your nerves started coming back as he crawled backwards and he started tugging at your jeans, pulling them down and off your body desperately. Off they went, including your socks and then you felt your legs wanting to close but– You had prepared yourself for this. You should let him look, so you kept them spread. Once his eyes turned to look at you again, they were instantly glued to the red lace covering the wet heaven he had wanted to touch and taste for so long.

“Oh, and it’s all for me, isn’t it sweetheart?” His voice was deep, rough and sultry and it was as if he wasn’t really asking you, but more like he was reassuring himself in fact like he said. And it was.

“Mhm~ All of it, Eds…” Your voice small, pretending shyness, that shyness that drove him insane. You heard a growl coming from him, his clouded eyes still staring down at your moving hips, waiting for him to do something. You clenched around nothing when he roughly grabbed the back of your knees and pulled them apart even more, and away.

“Let me taste this pussy that’s been driving me crazy for fucking months.” Your breathing hitched at the possessiveness he was talking with. His hands moved and his arms hugged your thighs as his body lowered, his stomach pressing against the mattress as his face came to stare at your throbbing slit, and he could see how wet the lace was. How drenched and dark the fabric had gotten. 

You couldn’t even process his words that your mouth was falling in a silent ‘o’, his mouth latching on the thong like a leech. Sucking and licking on it and if it felt good like this, how would you feel when he uncovers it? Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as he kept licking pointedly into where your slit was, digging the fabric into it a bit.

Then he rode the tongue upwards, the pointy licks now against your clit, making you moan, letting the breath out of your lungs. Your body started feeling the heat travelling all over, and you should have touched yourself or something before he came over because you’re pretty sure you’re going to cum any second. 

He pulled away, his fingers grabbing onto the elastic of your thong, and he kneeled up to pull them down your legs. You helped him do just that and he smirked when he saw the little string of your wetness disconnecting from your center. That’s how wet you were. His jaw clenched when he finally got the thong off, but this one, he made sure to see where it landed, planning on taking it back with him. Probably frame it.

Your legs now did close while his head was turned, your knees together and leaning your way. You felt a little more exposed now, you couldn’t help it. It’s been a while since you had sex in general, this would happen no matter what. The shyness, the embarrassment. But when Eddie turned his head back around, he shook his head, glaring down at you.

“I’m having none of that.” His hands roughly grabbed onto your knees and he spread them apart, your center opening up for him, and you just flushed all over, feeling embarrassed but more aroused than ever. He was a starved man, no, animal. He was staring down at it as if it were the answer to all of his prayers. His body moved downwards, in the same position he was before, but this time, his hands gripped your inner thighs, keeping your legs spread. 

He was going to make sure to taste you completely.

His tongue darted out, finally pressing it against you, making you jerk upwards, completely taken aback by how good it felt and it was a simple press of the tongue. You were done for tonight. He hummed and moaned as he tasted you, and then–

“Fuck– Oh– Fuck!” Your voice was loud, your breathing loud as in one single moment Eddie was just looking at you after tasting you, and the next his mouth and tongue were everywhere. He sucked on your clit, kissed it, the tip of his tongue doing stripes in your center, up and down, teasing you about entering it. 

He was all over you, his fingers digging into your flesh, not caring if he leaves a mark, and if he does, good. Your head was thrown back into the pillow as he flicked his tongue back and forth on your clit, your hands flying to grab onto his head. He was still moaning, hips rutting into the mattress just by eating you out. You were absolutely delicious and he probably won’t get enough of you at all. 

“Better than what I imagined. So fucking sweet.” He hummed into you, and you felt your body start trembling, the pleasure making up a fog in your mind you hadn’t felt in so long. Suddenly, your eyes widened, feeling his tongue going inside, his nose hitting your clit as he made nodding moves with his head and his tongue moved around inside of you.

“Eddie– Eddie, baby, oh my god–” Your breathing was heavy, moaning his name out as if it were a god, and to you, he was one right now. Your belly clenched and burned and you could feel your climax creeping in by the minute. Eddie was happy to keep ravishing you, to keep tasting you, to keep making you fall apart. 

You felt one of his hands leave your inner thigh as well as his mouth, letting the air hit you and then a sharp breath, making your wetness become cold, a whimper ripping out of your throat. He chuckled as he saw your hips jerk from the air he blew, and then you tensed up when you felt his finger running through your slit to coat it with your juices. And then he entered. You wished he hadn’t taken his rings off to eat that pizza. You wanted those inside of you, he wanted them inside of you. He had told you as such.

His mouth bit the inside of your inner thigh as he kept moving his middle finger inside of you, feeling your warmth around him. Your back arched as he bit, and a moan ripped away from your throat. Your hands now gripped the pillow under your head, right by the edges. He started pumping his finger, in and out of you, and you were in bliss as you moaned his name in order to ground yourself in the moment.

So many fantasies in your head, of him touching you, of him moving on you, of his fingers entering you and making you see galaxies. You could only guess Eddie would be good with his fingers just by the fact that he played guitar. And, he was probing that fact right now and with just a single finger. 

He sucked on your skin as his eyes kept looking at how his finger glistened whenever it was pulled out of you. His hips kept rubbing against your mattress, the creaking of it ringing in his ears just by you moving your hips against his hand. He growled as he got his ring finger inside as well, and he finally curled his fingers inside of you. Your eyes widened, your head thrown back as you felt him inspect you, looking for something, rubbing and circling and wiggling and–

“OH–” Your hips jerked upwards at one particular movement. He quickly pressed his free hand on your hip, pushing you down to keep you in place, a smirk spreading on his lips.

“Found you.” Your body was combusting into itself as he kept abusing that part inside of you that no one ever bothered to find. No one ever bothered to look for it and you were feeling your body about to snap the more he rubbed his fingers against it. You were sure you were going to cum soon as you felt your belly start to turn, clench inside of you, and your walls fluttered around his fingers. There’s nothing that could make this better–

Except his tongue latching onto your clit as his fingers never stopped moving. You’ve never felt like this. Your hips were moving by themselves against him, needing more, and your moans were so loud that you were glad you had rented out a very thick walled apartment complex. You were probably heard anyways, but you honestly could care less right now.

He was sucking and biting on you and your body thrashed around as you kept your mouth open. Heavy breaths and moans escaping you without any restraint, not being able to feel anything else but the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. Then, the stars slowly started to appear as your walls clenched and unclenched in warning. 

“Ed– Eddie– I’m gonna–”

“Yes, fuck yes, cum for me. I’ve been waiting for it, cum for me.” And that was all the green light you needed as you back arched off your bed, your head turning to the side as your eyes clenched tightly, holding the pillow in a death grip and making it cover your mouth to try to stifle your sounds a little bit more. You clenched all around him, your orgasm crashing on you like a trainwreck, your belly just contorting into itself as you felt him quicken his movements, riding your orgasm out.

You were gasping as your body remained tensed up, the loud squelching of his movements becoming louder thanks to how wet you became as you came and you came and you came because it felt never ending. You didn’t even notice his mouth was no longer on you, his upper body hovering over you as his right hand kept moving inside of you as he held himself up with the other one against the mattress, right next to your head.

He was looking at your contorted face. A face he’s seen multiple times on camera, on pictures you especially took for him. You started to unclench as your body slowly relaxed, twitched every other second thanks to the aftershocks of your orgasm. It was the best and biggest one you ever had. You felt him stop his movements, slowly, until then he pulled out, making you sigh.

Your eyes opened, blinking a few times to center yourself and then you turned your head to see him looking down at you. You realized he had stared at you during your climax and you felt a little embarrassed but you couldn’t even speak that you saw the fingers that were inside of you come into your vision, your breath heavy as you stared at all the juices that were on them. His eyes went towards them, the wetness moving down his palm, towards his wrist. 

His tongue darted out to lick it away, from his wrist to his fingers before putting them into his mouth to taste you again. He moaned into them, closing his eyes, and your own were wide at how filthy everything was, yet so deliciously amazing. He got his fingers out of his lips with a pop and then he looked down at you once again after opening his eyes once more, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Delicious. You’re so fucking perfect… So perfect.” You whined at his praise, your hands reaching out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he leaned back down, kissing you desperately. You tasted yourself in his mouth, on his tongue, and it was all a little intoxicating. But, even if your body twitched, trembled, you needed more. You were not satisfied. Your thighs closed on his hips as he pressed himself against you again.

You wanted him so much, so much that it was a little bit frightening to you. Now, it was your turn to become an animal. You used your strength to signal him you wanted to turn him. He followed your directions, letting himself fall and roll you two in a different position. You were now straddling him, chest against his as you kissed him desperately. He chased after you when you pulled away and sat back onto him. Your eyes were darkened, pupils fully dilated as your hips moved against his bulge and he hissed, his head rolling against your pillow. 

“You like that, baby?” You asked sweetly, and he groaned, nodding desperately. You bit your lip as you grabbed onto the hem of your tanktop and you ripped it off your body in just one second. His eyes were now glued to the matching red bra you had on. 

“Oh fuck… Please tell me you took a picture of yourself in this…” He asked, making you smirk and you had in fact taken one… or more. And maybe a video.

“If you behave, I’ll think about sending those to you.” He bit his bottom lips as his hips jerked upwards and you knew you were staining his jeans, but he didn’t care, nor did you. Not when you were about to take them off. You moved backwards, your eyes falling to his belt. Your hands undid it as quickly as they could. You were breathing rather heavily still, and if you had your tongue out, you bet you would be drooling with anticipation, knowing what was under these pants and boxers. 

Once the button and zipper were undone as well, it was your turn to take the pants off, but you added his boxers in the mix, killing two birds with one stone. Your patience was wearing thin right now, and you couldn’t handle wasting any more time with him. He helped you rip the rest of his clothes off, throwing his pants and boxers off and you almost fell back from how desperate you were. 

You heard the thud of his clothes on the floor and then your eyes finally saw it. Oh, pictures and videos did it no justice. Your mouth watered as your eyes looked at every detail, the veins, the tip, the length, the girth… the tattoo. The fucking tattoo on the underside of his cock. Fuck. You were sure you’re getting wetter again just by looking at him. You didn’t notice how Eddie’s eyes were looking at you as he held himself up on his elbows. 

He saw the lust filled look in your eyes, and he could swear he saw your pupils turn into literal hearts as you sighed happily, your hands rubbing on his thighs as you slowly leaned down. His breathing hitched, a broken breath being taken in. Your eyes didn’t leave it for a single second. You were fascinated. You kept your ass up as your upper body lowered more and more. Your nails dragged across his belly when you finally reached the height you needed to have him right in front of your eyes.

Your tongue licked your lips to moisten them, getting them ready to finally taste what you’ve been craving for so long. You gave his tip a tentative kiss, making it twitch instantly. He wanted to throw his head back but he needed to watch you. He needed to engrave this to memory. He is sparing this time because it’s your first time with each other… but he will throw it on the table the next day.

He wants to record you just like this, and much more.

Your tongue lolled out now, your hand coming to grip it to keep it steady as you passed your tongue along the shaft, towards the tip. You heard Eddie groan loudly, wanting to jerk his hips upwards in you, but holding himself back from doing so, letting you have your own moment. Your lips finally closed on his tip, and his body shivered underneath you. 

You closed your eyes as you moaned with delight, just sucking the tip of his length to then pop it out. You suddenly spat on it, so you could lube it up in order for your hand to help you in those places you couldn’t reach with your mouth.

“Fucking christ…” You heard him curse with a hiss and you wanted to laugh cockily at him, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. You finally guided him into your mouth, your movements slow, tongue swirling around him as you went. Maybe it was your imagination going a little wild, but somehow he tasted so good, and you blamed the tattoo for it, as if it were an exotic spice.

He gulped with a sigh, his elbows slowly starting to give up on him the more you moved your head. Your movements quickened, the noise of slurping being added into the mix and you could feel him falling onto the bed with a thud. His hands came to lay on the sheets, gripping onto them so he wouldn’t grab your head, not wanting to force you. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and you finally heard him moan your name. Sigh it out. 

That was one of the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard. You had heard him before, but it was different in real life. It was his voice. In real time. No interference or internet filter to cover it or mess with his vocal chords. It prompted you to move quicker, play with your tongue against his frenulum, making him whimper and jerk his hips into your mouth, making him gasp when you gagged slightly.

“Shit– Are you okay–?” His head looked down, worry shining through the lust, only to find you smiling as you looked at his cock, before going back in. He chuckled in amazement and it was his go to grab your head with his right hand, just letting it sit there as you did your own pace and movements. 

You liked it. You liked the roughness, you had told him you didn’t mind soft and sweet, but you preferred rough and desperate. He is surely giving you that tonight. Your mouth was quick on him, and you could taste some precum in your tongue as you did so. You moaned into it, sending vibrations that made him moan and shiver underneath you.

“Mmmh–” You popped him out of your mouth to then lick his entire length and he sighed your name until he felt the tip of your tongue running on him, and suddenly he chuckled in awe once more.

“Sweetheart, you’re fucking tracing my tattoo with your tongue?” You were in a trance as you kept doing it, giving a dumb little nod. “Shit, that’s so fucking hot–”

“Been wanting to do this for so long… Wanted to trace it–” His resolve broke that second, wondering how many times had you imagined this and dreamed of it. His fingers snaked in your hair, deep, and then he gripped your scalp, making you whimper. The pain was nothing, it only added to the pleasure and it made you tremble as he was on his elbow, looking down at you.

“Think you can be a good girl for me and take me all?” You nodded desperately, looking at him with those eyes he fell for. Puppy eyes. He guided you towards the tip and you opened your mouth instantly, letting him go back into your warmth. Your hands stayed on his thighs, and his free hand gripped the sheets tightly, guiding you further and further and then– he controlled your movements.

He made you bob your head on him, up and down, setting the rhythm himself and you didn’t mind him. You clenched around nothing when you started feeling him hit the back of your throat. You relaxed, knowing what was going to come next and then you breathed through your nose. Once he heard you take a deep intake of breath, he pushed you down, slowly, but roughly.

Your eyes teared up as you finally felt him down your throat. Your nose was deep into his hairs, something he trimmed but kept because you told him you liked it. You breathed through your nose as you focused on not gagging. You moaned into it knowing it would send vibrations to him, causing him to moan your name, feeling his hips move underneath you with need.

But you could hold on for so long, your body slightly jerking as your throat closed on him. The gag making Eddie pull you back up and get himself out of your mouth. He looked at your fucked out face as tears ran down your cheeks, and drool was slipping out the corner of your mouth. Seeing it live was making him feel a little dizzy, and your clouded eyes were not being any help.

You couldn’t wait anymore, your body climbing up on him as he let go of your hair, his hand falling to your hip as your dripping cunt rubbed against his length, right over the tattoo. He sighed, his eyes closing for a second as he enjoyed the friction, the warmth of you. Your hands went to your back, unhooking the bra open. At the sound, Eddie’s eyes found you, taking the straps down your arms, and your last piece of clothing was long gone. 

“Oh, fuck sweetheart–”

“Eddie, can I? Please–” Your voice was desperate, whiny, and your hips kept moving back and forth on him, whimpering each time your clit rubbed against his shaft. His eyes were focused on your breasts, his fingertips digging into your skin, and then he nodded quickly, giving you the go.

You smiled, delighted. Your hips raised up enough for you to get your hand in between the two of you. Your hand grabbed onto his cock, guiding him to your entrance, which was so ready to receive him. You two had gotten tested, knowing what was going to transpire the moment you met, and you were so glad you were on birth control to regulate your cycle. This way, you can feel him completely. Raw. You started sinking down, your mouth falling open as his tip started to stretch you, then the rest and, fuck–

“Holy fuck, holy shit–” He was cursing as he looked between your bodies, seeing himself disappear inside of you as your face was still in a contorted state of pleasure. Your voice was gone as you kept sinking down, and you couldn’t wait how it felt to have him bottom out inside of you. You already felt full, and you barely went halfway down on him. It wasn’t even painful, thanks to his prep, to your orgasm, the one he caused.

Finally, you slammed down on him, a loud slap bursting in your ears at your skin hitting his. He choked on a moan at bottoming out inside of you while you trembled in ecstasy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails scratched on his chest for support. Your breathing was heavy, and Eddie could finally refocus on you once more. You were adjusting to him, your head moving back to look down at him, your mouth still letting out breaths that drove him insane. 

He was about to talk, only for you to start moving, lifting yourself up to then slam back down, a moan finally escaping your lips as a groan left his. His hands were gripping your waist as if his life depended on it. He felt so good inside of you, just like you always knew he would feel like. He fit perfectly, and you certainly have no idea how you will survive when you don’t have him anymore with you.

Your hips kept moving, going up and down, your tempo rising, the slamming of your hips against his turning louder as he hit deeper. Your moans filled the room, the strain on your legs nonexistent as the pleasure overtook you. The air grew thick thanks to your breath and his, the purple hue making him look ethereal underneath you, his eyes half-lidded as he sighed out in each slam.

It was desperate, it was dirty, the squelching of your pussy against his pelvis, knowing your juices were making a mess out of it. You waited far too long for this and you were going to enjoy every single second of it. His hands moved to get a hold of your breasts as you bounced on him, as you rode the soul out of him. 

“Look at you sweetheart– Fucking look at you…” You whined at his words, your eyes closed as he hit you in that sweet spot you adored, your nippled getting in between his fingers for him to pinch and roll. Whimpers and moans leaving your lips at each shock of pleasure, and each time you came down, your clit would brush against his pubes. 

“Eds– You feel so good, so damn good–” He grinned at your praise, a thin sheer layer of sweat appearing all over his body as he played with you however he wanted. Suddenly you slammed your hips against him, changing your movements to go back and forth, a gasp leaving your throat and your nails digging into his chest.

“You feel good, baby?” He asked smugly, containing his moans in as he saw you lean back, his hands falling to your middle, while your hands gripped his knees. Your clit kept brushing against him as his cock inside you kept slapping your g-spot. Your movements were fast, hips just swaying like a dance and your mouth remained open in the entirety of it. You nodded dumbly, your head falling backwards as you stared at your ceiling, feeling your eyes burn in pleasure.

“Uh huh, uh huh–” You couldn’t even form words as your belly coiled, twisted on its own. His eyes fell closed, head thrown back into the pillow as you just used him to your liking. Your movements slowed and your head went back to looking at him, your hips changing rhythm as you swayed them in circles and you raised them just a little, moving back down slowly on him. A huff left him as he noticed the change, his eyes opening again to stare at your form.

You were possessed. You didn’t even recognize yourself, never once thinking you would act this way when meeting him. You knew you would be needy, but never this. Never this animalistic. The creaking of your bed was loud, now noticing it just as you noticed your legs growing tired, the trembling evident, but you didn’t want to stop this feeling. Eddie noticed of course, sitting up so he could embrace you, his mouth immediately latching onto your right nipple. 

Your arms immediately enclosed around his frame, hands digging into his hair as he rolled your sensitive nipple between his teeth, to then tug at it. You gasped between your moans as he let go of it, and then you let a breath out when he laid back on the bed, pulling you with him, your chest now against him. He chuckled with a breath, planting his feet on the bed, raising his hips upwards.

“My turn, isn’t it?” And the world became non-existent when his hips started slamming up into you, the slapping of skin loud enough for the people living at the very corner of the street to hear, your moans loud enough for the moon to listen to. 

His movements were rough, quick, his hands gripping your body to keep you in place and for him to have leverage. His breaths were quick, a curse and your name escaping him here and there, your headboard hitting your wall, and you were certain you would have a noise complaint in the early morning, but that was a problem for the two of you in the future.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” You whined as his balls also slapped against you, and you knew tears were falling from your eyes as he kept thrusting, rutting into you. He grunted into your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, which only made you whimper against him. Suddenly he slammed his hips into you, slow and deep, to then repeat the action, and then again.

He growled in each one, and then his hips stopped moving, still inside you, hips attached. You were both panting messes, drool dripping from your mouth from keeping it open all this while, falling onto the pillow and right beside his head. He lowered his hips, making you follow immediately, hitting the mattress once again. 

“You alright, darling?” He asked breathlessly and you smiled, nodding against him, which only elicited a smug grin on his lips. “Good, because I’m nowhere done with you.”

Your world was flipped, him having turned you both, his body on top of you once again, and his lips crashed into yours. Immediate tongues and teeth clashing, your moans into his throat and his in yours. He groaned as he slowly started moving his hips into yours once again, the fire having never left you, nor did for him. His mouth was still in your ear as he kept talking to you, softly, in a rough whisper–

“You want to know what I had to do before getting off the plane?” His words were barely processing in your head, but you still understood him as his ministrations inside of you never stopped. You shook your head, but he was not having it. “Talk.”

“W-What?” You asked and he tutted, relishing in having turned you into a cockdrunk mess.

“What…?” 

“What– Fuck, what did you do?” He hummed in approval, his breath hot in your ear, and if you thought this man couldn’t turn you on more than he was already, even when fucking you senseless, you were wrong.

“I had to jack off in the plane’s bathroom before landing.” You gasped as his hips rutted deep inside you, grunting into your ear before he continued. “I wouldn’t have lasted if I didn’t.”

You felt your belly burning, a moan escaping your lips with his name etched in it like a prayer. He chuckled through a huff, his movements still slow and meditated, his lips finding your neck once more, sucking on your skin to leave his mark. He was sure to mark you all up before he left, from head to toe, for everyone in your state to know you belonged to someone, that you belonged to him.

He will trace and retrace, leave your skin in red and purple markings. First mark? A necklace for your neck. So he continued moving, sucking onto your skin and biting onto it as he went from one side to another as you became a mess under him. Your nails were scratching the back of his neck, his back, reciprocating the marking in your own way. He could feel it, and he was going to proudly show it off before they fade away, going to make sure to prepare a gig so he could rip his shirt off in front of everyone so they could see.

His lips left your skin, his hands planting on the mattress on each side of your head to push himself up to admire his work. Your eyes were half lidded, completely blown out as your breaths left your pretty lips. A perfect necklace of hickies around your neck that looked way too good on you, a grin appearing on his lips. 

“Perfect… Fucking perfect.” With those words, your arms fell to the sides as he slowly kneeled up, his hands running all over your body, creating goosebumps on your skin despite how hot you felt. He then gripped your waist, tightly, and you saw how his smile fell, his chest moving up and down in heavy breaths and then–

He started railing into you like a madman. More creaks. More slapping of skin. More squelching. More cries of pleasure leaving you as he abused your insides in the most delicious and addicting of ways. Your hands coming to grip the pillow underneath your head once again, your legs spread as you saw them bounce back and forth as he moaned over you.

“Uh– Ed– Eds!” He loved to hear his name coming out of your mouth like this. He can’t wait to record you, stash this in his secured folder in his phone for his use when he returns to Hawkins. His fringe was surely sticking to his forehead from the force of his movements, but he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t going to stop, not when you were a blabbering fucking mess.

You saw his contorted face, the pleasure just written all over it, the desperation. Your whole entire self was putty, letting him use you, letting him take whatever he wanted from you and you were enjoying it. You were loving it. You were loving him. You gasped when you started feeling that pressure in your belly grow, the climax building inside of you and Eddie could feel it the second your walls fluttered around him.

“Where is it?” He breathlessly asked and you didn’t even know if he said something until his movements stopped and a hand grabbed your cheeks, puckering your lips to catch your attention. His face was suddenly inches from yours. “I asked, where is it, darling.”

“Wha–?” You were so confused, your hips swaying so he would keep moving but his hips were grounded against you as he shook his head at you, his grip tightening around your face.

“Where’s the vibrator?” That little pink thing he saw you use millions of times, and you were trying to process his words in your head, your hand moving shakily towards your night table. He let go of your face so he could reach over, almost ripping the drawer open and he instantly saw it. He grabbed it, your eyes following his movements as they slowly widened, knowing what he was going to do. He smirked your way, licking his bottom lip as his finger pressed on the ‘on’ button, the little but powerful bullet vibrator coming to life.

“Eddie…” You called to him as he kneeled up, sitting back on his calves, his left hand still gripping your waist tightly as his right one held your vibrator, his eyes stuck on it. 

“Intense little fucker, no wonder it’s your favorite to use, baby.” He gave it a kiss, sending a tremble all over your body, “Arch your back.”

You followed his instructions, and even if tired, you planted your feet on the bed, arching your back upwards. His hips started moving again, your hands gripping the pillow tightly once more as you whined, your mouth closed this time. The headboard started to slowly bang against the wall once more the more he picked up speed and your mind was gone. 

It felt even deeper than before, more intense, and the position was making your spongy spot be hit perfectly in each thrust. He huffed in each one, trying to control his breathing as you moaned loud ‘ah ah ah’s’, and then, a cry was ripped from you when the vibrator was placed on your clit, your eyes widening at the sensation. 

“You’re such a dream, so perfect for me, made for me–” He grunted as your body trembled underneath him, your orgasm now building at a quick and desperate pace. You would be surprised if you weren’t screaming his name. 

“So good! Fuck– It’s so fucking good! Keep– Keep going, pleasepleaseplease–” You were begging, as if he were to even think of stopping. He felt you fluttering and clenching all around him, making him growl and grunt, your name slipping from his lips. He could feel his own climax reaching close now, but he was going to feel you one more time. He rolled the vibrator around your clit, flicking it against you as the hand on your waist helped you keep yourself arched against him.

“Yeah baby, scream my fucking name, come on–” He was touching heaven right now, the more you talked, the more you cried out, the more you clenched around him. Drool out of your mouth, tears out of your eyes, that fucking necklace he put around your neck. It will go so well with his pick necklace.

“Eddie– Eddie– Eddie, please!” You kept begging and begging the more you felt yourself tipping over the edge. The creaking of your bed and the banging of the headboard falling to deaf ears, only your moans and his, the vibrator and the slapping of skin the only sounds heard between these four walls.

“I know, baby, I know. Let go, come on, you can do it for me– Be a good girl, come on–” The praise was what sent you off, your face turning just like it did last time to muffle your moan, your cry, your yelp, as your body arched into him, your walls clenching around his cock, tighter than they did the first time. It prompted him to stop his movements, a loud grunt being heard from him as you saw stars behind your eyelids.

He could only rut his hips into you to help you ride your orgasm, keeping the vibrator to your clit, making your body convulse in ecstasy. He could feel his own body tensing up, the tightness making it impossible for him to hold himself back. He felt you slowly unclench around him, your body twitching against him. Once he knew he could move again, your insides now so smooth to glide into, his need for release made him go feral.

Your vibrator was thrown to the side, and he was panting as he leaned over you, letting your back touch the mattress once again. His hands gripped the top of your headboard as your body was folded, your hips now lifting from your mattress one more time, your body already sore, but he had to cum. He needed to cum. You needed to feel him inside of you, because you would let him mark you inside and out.

His hips slammed against you, jerking you upwards, a yelp coming out of your lips from overstimulation. He grunted in each thrust, your breath knocked out of your lungs as he did it slowly, yet rough. Slam. Slam. Slam.

“I’m– I’m gonna cum– I’m going to fill you up so good, jesus fucking christ–” And all it took was one last slam before he let himself sit inside of you, his eyes clenching tightly as he came, a moan escaping your lips as you felt him and then–

CRACK.

His hands slid from the headboard as you both suddenly dropped, a gasp escaping you. A choked breath left your lips the moment you two bounced, his body almost falling over you if it weren’t for his elbows that planted on each side of your head, your hips falling back down. Your heart was beating out of your throat, your lungs compressed from the scare and adrenaline.

What had just happened? You shivered when Eddie shuddered, a last spurt being shot inside of you. You were both panting, his face coming to meet yours after he looked around at what had happened.

“Sweetheart, did– did we just break your bed?” And you realised your mattress was now on top of broken boards, hinges, and your headboard was a little wobbly, holding onto the side rails that enclosed your mattress. You blinked a few times as your arms held onto Eddie, and then–

You laughed through your exhaustion, through the adrenaline, through the remainder of your climaxes, and he followed right behind you. Breathless laughs, gulping from the sudden realization of how dry your throats were, but the giggles never stopped. Your mind was now clearer thanks to the scare, thanks to how incredible it was that you two had managed to break your slats, despite the seller telling you they were very strong and sturdy.

“We… We did…” You replied through heavy breaths, huffs of laughter escaping you through them and he chuckled on top of you, his bun now a mess, to the point it was almost coming off. 

“I’ll get you a new one… holy fuck…” You shook your head with a smile as you held his face, guiding him into a soft kiss this time, your heart bursting with giddiness. 

“No, it’s okay…” He smiled down at you, all teeth, and pecked your lips once again, his breath hitting your face, strong exhales coming from his nose. He pulled away, and his eyes were just wide with amusement as you smiled up at him.

“Oof.” He sighed to then smile down at you. “Well, that was the biggest workout I had in a while.” You giggled, giving him a nod in understanding, your chest still heaving as you caught your breath.

“I can agree with you on that one…” You reached up to put a strand of hair behind his ear, a content smile on your face, not being able to hide your happiness despite your body aching all over. He huffed one more time, kissing the tip of your nose before he started to slowly pull out of you. You both groaned at the feeling, realizing how sensitive the two of you were. He sighed one more time, his eyes falling onto your center. They widened as he pulled himself up, almost falling over from how wobbly his legs were, making you laugh in confusion as you pulled yourself up with a whimper, but he stopped you.

“Stay there! Do not move.” He stepped over the side rails, once again, almost falling over. He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jacket, and you could see his tongue poking out of his lips as he came back to you, his camera pointing directly at your pussy. Your eyes were wide with embarrassment, wanting to close your legs on him. “Nuh uh, no.”

“What are you doing!?”

“I am not missing the opportunity to take a picture out of this!” He smiled with victory as he snapped the photo and then looked at it. “Best Valentine's ever!” 

He then showed it to you and you gasped as you saw his cum dripping out of you, and you immediately sat up properly, to then get up to clench your legs together, making him laugh.

“Not funny! It’s running down!” 

The following events were funny, domestic even. You two went to the bathroom as Eddie apologized, lying of course, while you sat on the toilet waiting for every single drop of him to fall down into it. You both then washed yourselves with a wet washcloth each because you were too tired to take a shower. A slap being given at Eddie for the hickies, the extremely unhideable hickies, he left on your neck. A brush of teeth and deciding to just go to bed naked, Eddie’s suggestion with a wiggle of eyebrows.

“Easier access for when we wake up tomorrow.” You had smacked him on top of the head and while you got some water bottles from the kitchen, he had pulled the broken slats from underneath the mattress.

After finally hydrating yourselves again, and maybe eating another slice of pizza, even though you brushed your teeth minutes ago, you were finally laying on his chest as a new comforter covered both of you because the other one had to be desperately washed now… maybe even burned.

You sighed in contentment as you traced figures on his chest, your heart beating rapidly as he kept his arm around you, the other one on the back of his head, smiling at your ceiling. The purple hue in your room thanks to the led lights making it a calm atmosphere for the two of you now, instead of horny animals.

Your mouth opened and closed as you debated your next words. Should you? Would he run off? Would he get scared? Was it too soon? Maybe it was, but you needed to get the words out of your system before you exploded with them. The actions that had just transpired made your feelings just burst and grow tenfold than what they already were.

But he deserved it. He deserved every single word.

“Eds…”

“Mmm?” He was still smiling, his breathing now calm, relaxed, and your eyes clenched as you pressed your head even more into his chest.

“I love you.”

Silence. His body tensed all over, you could feel it underneath your palm, your body that was draped against his side. You fucked up. You did, didn’t you? You ruined it. You ruined his visit, the moment, the relationship, by simply moving too fast.

Yet, both his arms came to squish you close to him, eliciting an ‘oof’ from your part as he knocked the breath out of your lungs. He was hugging you, tightly, rocking the both of you with happiness, almost giggling with it.

“You fucking beat me to it! I was supposed to say it first! I was mustering the courage just now.” He replied and your eyes widened for a second as you processed his words, a smile bursting in your lips as you held him close, feeling the need to cry out of joy, sadness, and with hope.

“Then say it back, you idiot.” You claimed and he chuckled, moving so he could be facing you, both of you on your sides now. His hand came to trace your cheek softly, adoringly, as if he was etching your features into memory. 

“I love you, my goddess.” There was a blush on his cheeks as he said it, and you knew he meant every word. You felt heat rush to your own cheeks, still smiling at him with devotion. He licked his lips nervously as he stuttered his next words. “Y-You know… Virginia doesn’t… look that bad.” 

You were taken aback by his words and– Was he saying…

“Are you… implying you want to move… here?” You asked, your eyes wide, and now you realize Eddie had been having the same fears as you were. Moving too fast. In the eyes of strangers it might be, but after having him here with you… it didn’t feel fast at all.

“I mean– It’s a little too soon, and I need to… check finances and… get a new job and all… but, well– Gotta start thinking about it, you know.” He was looking down, trying to avoid your gaze. You really wanted to cry now. You never expected that playing a game would end in this situation. You smiled warmingly as your hand rested on his cheek, making him look at you once again.

“Mmm… I think that Charleston in West Virginia sounds… good.” He frowned and you knew he was confused. You remembered how Eddie told you he failed senior year twice, so maybe you had to be more specific. “It’s right in between Indiana and Virginia…”

His face softened, a warm smile appearing and his left hand rubbing your waist lovingly. You were making sure you both had equal distance between your family and friends. A distance where you probably didn’t need a plane ticket to visit. He gave you a nod, pulling you closer for his nose to touch yours.

“Then we better start planning, sweetheart.”

And that you did plan.

end

a/n: i just think that long distance eddie would be as feral as a rabid dog when meeting his partner for the first time ever. pls reblog, don't just like

divider by @thecutestgrotto

[ms-demeanor]

Oh man. Now I'm crying.

I'm very comfortable setting hardware standards for desktops and laptops, I'm very comfortable sourcing servers and getting the parts and software that they need to be configured, I am *not* comfortable being asked to build tech infrastructure to meet the clients' needs when I'm not familiar with their networks, business, or utilization.

That IS an unreasonable thing to have assigned to me and no wonder I kept getting stressed out looking at those tickets.

Anyway I have now messaged my coworker (former VP of operations at old job who is now one of our very few level three techs and who is the supervisor of our new networking team) "hello! I need help! please help me I can't quote these alone" and I'm crying and I feel much better.

What a stupid way to get catharsis.

(the firewall is not just the firewall! you have to consider throughput and what APs it will be networked with and ease of use for the consultants and cost of licenses over multiple years - will this be compatible with their setup? I literally don't have the first clue how to figure that out and I don't want to be the one who recommends a piece of hardware that means they have to replace three other pieces of hardware because I didn't know it didn't support some standard or another! That is a job for someone who is actually technical!)

[dcxdpdabbles]

For The next part of freelance inventor, you should do more parent trapping(if you want, of course) I was just picturing cartoon level schemes trying to get these two to kiss.

On the flipside, what would happen if the two of them had a fight? I can see the kids and Alfred just kind of trying to make Bruce agree how wrong he was.

"Bruce?"

His heart stops at the sound of that voice, and then it speeds up before he can look over his shoulder. Not that he needs to. He already knows who called out to him.

Only one person in the world adds a certain ring to his name when they speak it.

Bruce turns away from his laptop, displaying some spreadsheets of the upcoming term, coming face to face with Danny Fenton's beaming smile. Behind him, the ocean gleams like liquid sapphire, highlighting the brightness and warmth in Danny's aqua-blue eyes.

He once thought Danny wasn't human; surely, no human could have eyes like those. The sunlight bounces off the dark of his hair, swaying in the breeze, and it somehow calls attention to the laughing lines around his eyes and mouth.

He's shirtless, showing off a physique that would fit a swimmer. His black swimming shorts are covered in the NASA symbol, which is such a Danny thing to do that it makes Bruce's heart skip a beat.

It's odd. As one of the wealthiest bachelors in the world, Bruce had always been surrounded by gorgeous people. Usually, women and men flung themselves at him, whispering false claims of eternal love while displaying teasing hints of the bodies. It was a tool they wielded to charm him into doing what they wanted, but none of them could even compare to Danny's looks.

Perhaps it was due to how effortlessly beautiful Danny was. He didn't spend hours and hours on his looks. Bruce had heard people claim the inventor was plain, but he could never see it.

Bruce had always thought he was pretty from the moment Dick wandered to his table. The gentleness with which he spoke to his then nine-year-old son with respect and full attention as he explained his first intention- the portable charger. How could anyone not be memorized by him?

"Danny? What are you doing here?" He asks after realizing he is gawking like a fool.

His friend's eyes crinkle further as he laughs. "On vacation. Jay and Dick told me about this place, and since I had a conference on the island, I thought I would spend my off time at the private huts. What about you?"

Oh, those little rats. This was all a setup. He should have known something was up when they all forced him to accept it.

"The kids bought me a private hut for a weekend." He answers, moving his eyes away from Danny's lips with great effort. "They said it was a gift and a means to follow my doctor's orders."

"Dami told me about that. The doctor said you have been putting too much stress on your heart, and yet, here you are, working on vacation." Danny planted his hands on his hips, shaking his head in mock pity. "I bet you haven't even frolicked through a field of flowers or jumped over waves since you arrived."

Bruce feels a burst of amusement and slight anticipation tickle the bottom of his stomach. "Well, I just don't know how to do any of that."

"Since we're hut neighbors, I could show you how to have fun. You rich people know what that is, right? Fun?" Danny asks, reaching down to grip Bruce's wrist. Where he touches, tringles of flames light up his skin, and Bruce fights to keep the blush off his face. "I suppose you don't. The first lesson must be how to frolic through the ocean waves, and it starts right now!"

"I thought it was a field of flowers?" He laughs, allowing the shorter man to pull him toward the blue water.

"It's a hybrid course, Bruce," Danny laughs, splashing through the first wave until they are waist-deep and spinning around to grin at him. Bruce practically swallows his own tongue as the man shines in the sunlight, with a beaming soft smile that makes him feel like the only man in the world. "Prepare for the best weekend of your life. No kids. No work. Just us, the ocean, and some tasty meals!"

"That sounds like heaven," Bruce tells him, wondering if Danny can tell how soft his eyes have become or the yearning in his voice. He just knows somewhere in Gotham, all his children are high-fiving each other and scheming up another ill-fated attempt to get Bruce with the man of his dreams.

It's not that he's unaware of their goals. But over ten years after he'd known Danny, silently pinning for him, Bruce realized it would never happen. His friend didn't feel attraction like that.

If Bruce had told him how he felt, he would have lost Danny forever. He would rather live with this buckling longing for the rest of his life if it meant he could be gifted with Danny's friendly smiles and presence.

Danny reaches back, cupping his hands to gather water and splashing Bruce with a gleeful "What are you standing around for? Come! Frolic!"

Bruce grins, throwing back some water in a bigger splash as the young man screams, attempting to escape. He follows close behind, trying to drown the other between gasps of laughter. For a brief moment, he allows himself to live a fantasy life where this was a real romantic getaway, not a setup by his less-than-subtle children.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Fine! Be that way! Excuse me for having a fucking opinion!" Danny hisses, swinging around and stomping out of the room. Bruce's chest feels hot with anger; the angry words that had fallen from his mouth taste bitter and satisfying simultaneously. It's a whirlwind of contradicting emotions that he does nothing when the other man slams the door behind him.

He slams his hands over his eyes, willing himself to calm down but it's hard when Danny is the one who set him off. Danny is the only one in the world that made him feel everything like an explosion.

Both the positive and negative emotions.

How did things come to this? The conversation was going well until the two started talking about the Joker. He's always known his friend had a less white and dark point of view regarding the clown, but to actively claim that Batman was a coward for not killing him when he had the chance?

Yes, Danny didn't know Bruce was Batman, so when he tried to explain that the superhero was afraid that if he started taking lives, he knew he wouldn't be able to stop Danny had grown dismissive. It wasn't meant to attack Bruce, but he knows that logically.

But it still felt like the man he was in love with was calling him a coward straight to his face, and Bruce grew defensive. He tends to lash out when he's on the defense, and before long, the two were in a heated debate about vigilantes in general.

Suddenly, Danny was his face, sneering and growling, when Bruce pointed out that Phantom was the small-town hero of Danny's boyhood and someone he felt jealous of. Danny obviously held the hero in high regard to the point it felt like he was in love with him if Danny was inclined to such emotions- he was just if not more dangerous than Batman would ever be.

It went even worse when Bruce spoke his support for the Anti-Eco Acts that were currently being discussed.

A lot of hateful words were spoken in ten minutes, and by the end of it, Bruce couldn't even figure out how it ended, with Danny's eyes watering up with angry tears or his chest heaving with the screaming.

Why did he even say that? Bruce had a lot of issues with the Anit-Eco Acts. They were far too seated in bigotry to be anything but an excuse to hunt a different race.

He regretted his words, though he doubted he could ask Danny for forgiveness soon. That man was known for holding a grudge and giving the cold shoulder when angry.

Bruce would have to grovel later.

The door to his study slams open, and his children crowd the entrance, looking alight and outraged.

"Why did you make Dad cry!?" Jason demands, crossing his arms and looking ready to throw down. The kids started calling Danny Dad a few months ago when Tim accidentally slipped it into a conversation, and Danny thought it was sweet.

They played it off as a joke, but Bruce knew they liked referring to him as Dad. Bruce was Father in formal events, B in casual moments, and when angry with him, the kids simply referred to him as B.

B for Bitch since you act like one, Dick once explained, eyes burning with anger and a smile as sharp as broken glass.

"You better have a good reason, B." Tim hisses, voice low and anger tightly coiled like a snake ready to strike. It's a violent reminder of Danny that Bruce can only place his hand over his eyes again and groan.

"We had a disagreement."

"What did you do?" Damian demands next, tapping his left foot impatiently. He picked that up from Jazz the last time Danny's sister was in town. "Before claiming innocence, just know you're always at fault. Dad can do no wrong."

"Hear, hear," Steph, Duke, and Cass say together, glaring daggers at Bruce.

Great. The kids have unionized against him.

"We had a disagreement on the Anti-Eco Acts." He grits through clutch teeth, trying to get his shimmering anger to calm down. The children are not helping, and his frustration rises slowly at the avalanche of noise his children release.

"How dare you!"

"Those acts are a blatant disregard of human decency!"

"I always knew you were a white privilege asshole but this!?"

"I will stay with Danny for the rest of the month! I can't believe this!"

"Look here, you Father. You will not support those act,s especially at the expense of Dad!"

"You blue-eyed demon."

Bruce puts his head into his hands and screams. Danny returns to talk this over hours later, but Bruce is right.

He has a lot of groveling he needs to do. His kids still lock him out of his room. They have a sleepover with Danny, dragging in their mattress and watching movies late into the night.

He sleeps on the couch, listening to their merry-making with a heavy heart. Aflred refused to let him sleep in a guest room once Dick informed him that Bruce was in the dog house with Danny.

Betrayed in his own home.

The Anti-Ecto Acts are rejected primarily due to Bruce Wayne spearheading their resistance. Danny hugs him when he reads the paper, and all is right with the world. The Kids still don't let him sleep in his own bed, and for a month, Bruce's back hurts from the lumping couch cushions.

Clark tells him jokingly the children would choose Danny in a divorce, so he starts carrying around Kryptonite.

[angelicqsa]

𝘾𝙍𝙐𝙎𝙃.

︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 | 𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯 𝘹 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 | 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 𝘰𝘯 𝘳𝘢𝘧𝘦 𝘤𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘯.

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 | 𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘦.

𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚𝙨 | 𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩! 𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨.

You have just moved to the outer banks, some may call it the paradise on earth but you don't exactly see why people call it that since many of your interactions have been with stuck up bitches.

There's also these names being thrown around, "kook" and "pogue" you have no idea what either of them are but from what you can tell being a pogue isn't to good.

You move to the figure 8 a real beautiful place in the outer banks, rich cars, big mansions, mini mansions and golf courses. After you move you often visit the huge community garden.

It's been about a month since you moved, your days usually consisting of reading, tanning, visiting the garden and sometimes swimming. You didn't really have any friends. Until about a few day ago a girl named Sarah Cameron sees you in the garden and pursues a conversation with you...

"Those are probably the most beautiful hydrangeas i've seen." Her feminine voice cuts through the sudden silence and murmurs of the garden.

You gasp with a panicked looked and whip your head back, startled from the sudden voice.

"Im so sorry! i didnt mean to startle you! are you okay?" Sarah jumbles out with guilt.

You are slightly surprised she was even talking to you, but decide to smile softly and shyly say "Its okay, you didn't mean to."

She smiles with you and holds out her hand, "Im Sarah by the way, i love that top of yours it's so gorgeous"

"Thank you! i love your shorts! the bows add a nice touch" You hear a deep masculine voice call out for Sarah, the voice didn't sound too far, Sarah heard the voice then turns around and say "Over here!"

You look around awkwardly, a random girl randomly comes and talks to you, if you didn't know any better you would think it's a setup of some kind, but you gave her and her... friends.. the benefit of the doubt and turn around and continue gazing at the hydrangeas.

After a few seconds you hear a pair of footsteps, your back is to them so you continue minding your business.

"Who's your friend?" Another deep voice says, his was higher than the one before.

Them calling out your presence causes you to turn around slightly panicked and feeling slightly ambushed by the attention.

You see a Sarah standing next to a tall guy with slightly slicked back blonde hair and a buttoned up shirt.. a bit fancy for a garden but whatever, on the other side of him theres this gorgeous man..

Tall, buzzed cut brunette hair, beautiful blue eyes, sunkissed and one hell of a smile.

You were at a lost for words, completely frozen just staring at this man, and he was staring right back at you with the same amount of maybe admiration..? lust? you didn't know, but you gazed right back into his slim blue eyes.

"This is uh.. uhm.. i didnt catch her name.." Sarah says sheepishly with a small smile.

She wait a few minutes as her, and both mystery men were staring at you.

The mystery guy with blonde hair looks at the blue eyed boy then looks at you catching on to what was happening and snickers. Sarah, completely oblivious then waves her hands "Helloooo? Earth to mystery girl".

This causes you to snap out of the i guess you could say.. trance? you were in and look at her and blonde boy, "Sorry! Im Y/N!"

Sarah smiles and says "Well this is my boyfriend Topper" She looks up at the blonde dude and he just smiles and extends his hand for you to shake . He gave off a vibe of one of those douchebags who act innocent.

You shake his hand and smile, you then look at the buzzed brunette waiting to get his name, you were excited even.

"Im Rafe, Rafe Cameron." He says with a full smile, perfectly white teeth. 'Jesus he's like my dream man' you thought.

Eager, you go to shake his hand quicker than you did with the others.

It was safe to say you were intrigued with Rafe and his presence.

They ask if you wanted to join them to see the rest of the flowers, little did they know you already saw them all and really enjoyed going to the garden. Nonetheless you still agree deeming them kind with pure intentions.

Here you are now, back in the garden, your new safe haven in the crazy world. A picture of the gorgeous boy pops in your head, his smirk, his eyes.. his big veiny hands you imagine him touching you in all the right places with them. You squeeze your legs at the thought, praying no one noticed.

"Well well well.. if it isnt new girl in town, with a slight staring problem" That familiar deep voice murmurs from behind you.

You turn around, surprised to hear his voice again.

"Seems like you also have a staring problem from what i recall?" You say with a slight smirk.

He grins at you and nods, 'he looks fucking perfect' you thought. Sunkissed skin, a nice baby blue button up, khaki shorts and a glimmering silver chain.

You were admiring him once again which he notices immediately and smirks.

"You are adorable" He says.

This catches you off guard and snaps you immediately out of the trance, adorable?? 'is he flirting with me right now??, what should i say??' you panic. You immedietly recover.

"Adorable you say? why's that hm?" You say with false confidence.

"Your little cute dress and bows." He says while moving his hands towards your bow and his smirk forming into a smile.

You smile and blush at the compliment at a loss of words. You didnt exactly know what to do or how to react, you didnt exactly have much experience with stuff like this.

Noticing your pause, he lunges towards the hibiscus bush and plucks one off the leafy bush, then proceeds to put it in your hair which pulls your bang back.

You two were close, extremely close. You look up at him with a smile, still blushing profusely.

He looks down at you with a small smirk.

So much tension was in the air. You only just met this guy.. how could you feel this way about him after one interaction. You felt a little embarrassed, but the way he looks at you, the way his hand felt with yours, the way his presence alone speaks volumes was more than enough to override the embarrassment.

"Thank you.." You squeak out nervously with a smile.

"No problem" He murmurs, his icy blue eyes still boring into yours. After a few moments and the whispers of the wind, he backs away slightly.

You couldn't help but feel slightly disappointed, which was pathetic considering you just met him and dont exactly know him.

But that adds to the intrigue you have.

Rafe on the other hand couldnt believe his eyes. When he first walked into the garden he immediately spotted you, 'The gorgeous girl from last week'.

Before he had a chance to go up and speak to you, you were already off and walking away towards the bush area of the garden.

He decided to pursue you and walk in your direction.

When he met you for the first time he couldn't believe his eyes. You didnt look anywhere taller than 5'2 or 5'3, luscious blonde hair that when kissed by the sunlight seemed to glow, gorgeous green eyes and a cute little pink dress.

He knew the moment he laid eyes on you, he had to have you, despite you being new to the island and typically tried to avoid the 'newbies'.

When your pretty green doe eyes first gazed into his and made eye contact, he felt his heart beat fast. 'Jesus she's making me feel things.. we only just met' He thought.

When you spoke in that soft and sweet tone, he was on a mission to hear that voice again.. and again.. and again.. he'd never get tired of hearing it.

After the first interaction, he was eager to run into you again, so he thought 'There a chance i could catch her at the garden again, you cant see everything after one visit...'

And he was sure right, he laid eyes on you and immediately felt giddy, which was something that doesn't happen often.

Now here you two were, with smiles on your faces. And you decide to speak up.

"How's Sarah?"

"She okay, i think you should hang with us, last time you did it was pretty fun" Rafe says with a smile.

You feel like jumping up and down with excitement but obviously you couldnt so you just grin and say "Well thank you, you guys were pretty fun to! and i'd love to hang with yall again!"

He smiles and nods. He pauses for a second seeming like he was contemplating.

He then says, "How about we hang one on one? You and I?"

You are completely caught off guard but nonetheless you were extremely happy that he suggested that.

You nod your head and softly say "I'd love that. When would you like to?"

He smiles and looks around, "Now sounds perfect. Is that okay?"

You say 'yes of course' embarrassingly fast and eager.

You both persue the garden looking at different bushes and flowers and facts about them you didnt focus to much on it since you've been there a lot. You mainly focus on the conversations you have with Rafe.

The similarities you both have, your hobbies and what makes you happy. You both bonded greatly.

You couldn't stop grinning and having a feeling of luck.

You both eventually get tired of walking and he offers to take you to a restaurant called 'The Wreck' and you obviously agree.

You two had a great time and you got to know him very well and you both clicked. You felt happy, light and airy once he dropped you off home. You were really starting to feel glad to be in the Outer Banks. Thanks to Rafe Cameron.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

𝘤𝘳𝘶𝘴𝘩 ☄. *. ⋆

ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐яєqυєѕт!

─────⋆˚࿔𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐪𝐬𝐚𝜗𝜚˚⋆─────

[mythalism]

You likely don't remember me, but I'm the anon who asked you a few weeks ago, "why would anyone think Solas would choose Lavellan over Mythal." Thank you for replying to it the way you did. It actually inspired me to play DAI, seeing how passionate you were about Solavellan.

I finished Trespasser last Friday, and I must say I FUCKING GET IT NOW. I ABSOLUTELY DO. That bald bitch has crawled his way into my brain and pussy.

I was mildly irritated by him in Veilguard. I sneered at Lavellan's lovey-dovey "let me join you in your prison." I didn't know their lore, indeed. You were absolutely right, the tastiest parts happen outside of the three kissing scenes they had in DAI. His personal quest? Blew my fucking mind. What he says during Cole's quest? I'm on my knees. ("We cannot change our nature by wishing," Solas says and looks straight at Lavellan. Or his reply to Varric's "He could have been a person." is, "Would that have made him happier, child of the Stone?")

Everything about how Solavellan was written in DAI resonates. Her first flirt with him is "I will protect you." His passionate speech on spirits? (The youtube compilation I watched didn’t have it, so it was such a treat to see it for the first time and finally be able to enter discourse on this!) I loved how the flirt is "I look forward to help you make new friend wink-wink," which makes him FLUSTERED. YET he approves way more if you actually consider his point of view and say spirits (and by extension him) are real people!

I had no idea how protective and private he was over romance with the Inquisitor in DAI (he shuts down Sera and Cassandra right away). So while I would absolutely have liked him to speak more on Lavellan in Veilguard, especially after experiencing the romance for myself, I do also see now why he would be quite unwilling to open up to Rook of all people. (When I heard his "There are few regrets sharper than watching fools squander what you sacrificed to achieve," I thought of Rook right away, lol. Oh, what irony.)

The Temple of Mythal quest and the conversation with him afterwards made me dizzy. What do you mean Mythal has a bunch of elves chained to her will, doing her bidding for millennia, and she never visits?? What do you mean she used whoever drank from the Well as her puppet?? What do you mean she wants a reckoning that will shake the heavens?? How on earth are NONE of those things referenced in the direct sequel??? Why is she portrayed as a noble martyr, when she was clearly part of the issue? (Vallaslin are SLAVE MARKINGS, and I may be dumb, but I never heard that in Veilguard for some reason?? And Solas HAD HERS on his FACE???? I only now understand the "I release you from my service" bit.)

His "I begged you not to drink from the Well" hit me. (I made my Lavellan do it, btw. At that point I thought, ofc nothing bad will come of this decision, I know Mythal to be a spirit of benevolence and kindness. LOL!!!! Then Flemeth overrides my Inquisitor's will for something as minor as chastising her daughter. And that was a kinder version of Mythal, who lived among mortals for centuries, apparently? xD) As did his "Everything you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her." And "I know that mistake well enough to carve the angles of her face from memory."

Mind-blowing. And everything about Trespasser obliterated the remains of my brain. Companion comments on Solas leaving?? What Cole said about him??? Lavellan's words after witnessing the mural of him removing vallaslin from slaves?? He had agents??? He had plans???? Elves joined him???? He visited her dreams, looking like a sad wet puppy???

Trespasser was such a fantastic setup. It had everything. I genuinely have never experienced a drama and romantic tragedy in a video game the way I did with Solavellan in that DLC. AND I knew Veilguard would have them reunited. I can only imagine how it was for people who played it on release, not knowing. The wait? The theorizing? The heartbreak?

It is a superior ship, no doubt about it. "I look at you and I see what you truly are" (DING DING, memory of Duet codex was actually inspired by what he said to Lavellan??) "You are unique. In all Thedas I never expected to find someone who can DRAW MY ATTENTION FROM THE FADE" (now I fucking see why she is singular and special to him!). "Ar lasa mala revas. You are free." Var lath vir suledin???????????!!!!!!!!

Fuuuuuuuuuck. lights a cigarette On the flipside, now I clearly see what a wet disgrace Veilguard's writing was. Absolute assassination of the meatiest plot points (the Well? Mythal’s reckoning?? Solas's entire drive to save his people??). Also, it was dumb not to utilize his romance with Lavellan more. Like—have people hate her for this! Hello? Your Chantry Herald had a lover who wants to destroy the world. Any comments, everyone?

Sorry for so much rambling. I'm still processing my emotions. What a game. What a weirdly hot, soul-crushing, heartbreaking love story. And they are together in the Fade now, for eternity...*SIGH*

i hope you know i was cackling with glee as i read this message. i am so so so so glad you played inquisition and trespasser and had such a wonderful time. it is so fun to witness the brain worm overtaking someone in real time. welcome to hell and please feel free to come share your thoughts and continue to process any time <3

[missmaymay13]

home is with you - j.hughes

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

j.hughes x fem!oc | 13k

summary: jack was a patient person, and he was willing to wait as long as everlyn briar needed to realize that he was there for her.

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Quinn Hughes knew a lot about hockey.

Ask him about any game in the last decade—NHL or juniors—and he could give you a detailed play-by-play, rattle off stats like they were embedded in his DNA, and even tell you the name of the ref who made that terrible call in the second period. Hockey ran through his blood. It was his language, his rhythm, his safe place.

Academics, though? That was a different story.

It wasn't that he wasn't smart. He was just... uninterested. Unmotivated. The kind of kid who could get through most classes on charm and bare-minimum effort, skating by (pun intended) with a shrug and a smile. But junior year hit different. The coursework was harder, his travel schedule was crazier, and even Ellen—his endlessly patient, fiercely supportive mom—was starting to worry.

So she did what any mom would do: she found him help. Enter Everlyn Briar.

She was a sophomore, which at first felt weird to Quinn. A younger student tutoring him? But it took less than five minutes into their first session for him to realize Everlyn wasn't just smart—she was brilliant. The kind of person who didn't just know the answers, but understood them. Who explained things like it was no big deal, casually dropping SAT vocab like it was regular slang. She was taking AP classes in everything and somehow managing to be the captain of the school's volleyball team.

And not just on the volleyball team—she ran it. Confident, poised, competitive as hell.

Quinn didn't know people like her existed in real life.

He also didn't expect to like her.

At first, he resented the whole tutoring setup. It made him feel dumb, and if there was one thing Quinn Hughes hated, it was feeling dumb. But Everlyn had this way of making you feel like you were capable. Like you could be just as smart as her if you tried. She had an addicting personality—effortlessly cool, quick-witted, with a sense of humor that caught him off guard more than once.

And then there was her smile.

God, that smile. Bright and full of mischief, like she was constantly in on a secret she might let you in on if you were lucky enough. It was the kind of smile you couldn't forget, even if you tried.

Their tutoring sessions slowly evolved into something else. Something casual, something natural. They'd meet in the library or the back corner of the local coffee shop, but more often than not, their study sessions would end with them laughing over inside jokes, sharing stories about their teammates, or mock-roasting each other over their wildly different Spotify playlists.

Within a few months, they were inseparable.

It wasn't long before their social circles started to blur. Everlyn met Quinn's friends from the team, and he got introduced to her volleyball crew. Weekend hangouts became group events—bonfires, house parties, late-night diner runs. It was all fun and games until people started dating each other and everything got predictably messy.

Typical high school chaos.

There were breakups that forced the group to awkwardly take sides, dramatic friend group rifts, and one infamous party where someone tried to stage an "intervention" for a relationship that wasn't even official. Through it all, though, Quinn and Everlyn stayed solid. He'd show up to her games, she'd come to his. They were always seen together—heads tilted close in conversation, sharing drinks, stealing fries off each other's plates without asking.

Years would pass before either of them realized just how much those years mattered—how foundational they were. Before either of them would understand that what they built back then, in classrooms and crowded kitchens and half-lit basements, was going to follow them far beyond high school.

Because this isn't just Quinn's story.

It's Jack's too.

And for Jack Hughes, Everlyn Briar wasn't just some girl his brother used to hang out with.

She was the girl.

The one he was never supposed to fall for.

⸻ It started small.

At first, Everlyn would stay a few minutes after her tutoring sessions—just long enough to chat with Quinn before he got dragged off to practice or dinner. Then she'd linger a little longer, helping him pack up his notes, maybe sneaking in a few teasing jabs about his handwriting or his inability to remember historical dates. Eventually, Quinn started inviting her over for actual study sessions at his house.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Everlyn Briar became a regular fixture at the Hughes household.

It was Ellen's idea, really. She was over the moon about Quinn's sudden improvement in school—how he seemed lighter, less tense. His grades had gone up, but more importantly, so had his confidence. And she noticed it wasn't just the academics. Her son was happier. There was a spark in him again.

So of course, Ellen wanted to meet the girl responsible for that.

That first invitation came wrapped in the form of a casual offer: "Why don't you just stay for supper, sweetheart?" And Everlyn, who had only meant to drop off a study guide, hesitated just long enough for Ellen to smile and wave her into the kitchen like she'd already been part of the family for years.

It was so simple. So easy. So warm.

Everlyn didn't realize how much she needed that warmth until she felt it.

The Hughes house was nestled at the top of a long driveway, the kind of home that looked like it had history—scuffed baseboards, picture frames lining the hall, cleats piled by the door. It smelled like home-cooked meals and dryer sheets, and the moment she stepped inside, she could feel something shift in her chest.

There was life here. Real life.

Trophies filled the shelves—some polished and gleaming, others dusty with age. Framed photos covered the walls, capturing every phase of childhood: first goals, missing teeth, family vacations. Hockey sticks leaned against corners. A dog barked from the backyard. Laughter echoed from upstairs.

It was messy in the way that made your chest ache with comfort.

She could've cried.

Because back at her own house, it wasn't like this. Not anymore. The silence there was deafening, broken only by the sound of raised voices behind closed doors or the slam of a front door that never quite shut all the way. Her parents were in the middle of what could only be described as a war disguised as a divorce—ugly, drawn-out, venomous. And lately, Everlyn had become the easiest target.

It wasn't physical. Not exactly. But the emotional toll? That was harder to explain.

The tension followed her like smoke. Her mom was sharp with her words, her dad cold with his distance. The house was split in invisible lines—rooms she couldn't go into without a fight, conversations that ended in tears, meals that were eaten in silence. And she, caught in the middle, found herself suffocating more and more with each passing day.

So she escaped. Any chance she got.

Practice. Study halls. Library sessions that lasted until closing. Couch cushions at friends' houses. Empty locker rooms. Anywhere but home.

Which made the Hughes' house feel like a gift from the universe. An oasis.

The first person to greet her that day—besides Quinn—was a thirteen-year-old Luke Hughes, peeking cautiously from behind his older brother's shoulder. He had that awkward middle-school lankiness, all limbs and big eyes, his dark hair a little messy like he'd been running around all day. Shy but clearly curious, he gave her a wary glance, unsure of what to make of the girl standing at his front door with a backpack and a too-kind smile.

"Hey," Everlyn said softly, crouching down just a little to his height. "You must be the famous Luke. I've heard you've got a killer slapshot."

Luke blinked, then gave the tiniest, bashful nod—cheeks already a bit pink. And just like that, she'd won him over.

From then on, he was her shadow anytime she visited. Offering her cookies, showing off his hockey cards, even once letting her watch him play NHL on the Xbox. Luke Hughes was a soft, sweet soul—and he, like the rest of the family, made space for Everlyn without asking for anything in return.

Next came Ellen and Jim.

They met her with hugs, no hesitation, like she was already part of something. Ellen's warmth was maternal and immediate—offering her water, asking if she was hungry, complimenting her necklace. Jim's was quieter but genuine, his handshake firm, his smile kind. And both of them went on and on about how grateful they were to her for helping Quinn—not just with school, but with his peace of mind.

"You've brought such a light to him," Ellen had said, eyes crinkling. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

Everlyn had smiled and said thank you, but the words clung to her like armor. A light. She didn't feel like a light lately. Not with everything going on at home. But maybe, just maybe, here... she could be.

She was still soaking it all in—memorizing the faces in the photos on the walls, the way the floor creaked in certain spots, the steady hum of a home that felt alive—when the front door opened again.

And in walked Jack Hughes.

He was fifteen then. Already taller than most of the guys at school, with dark, boyish hair that curled a little at the ends and those unmistakable Hughes eyes—sharp, expressive, like they could see straight through you if he wanted to. His backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder, cheeks a bit flushed from biking home, and there was a faint scowl on his face until he rounded the corner and saw her.

Everlyn.

His brother's friend.

The one he wasn't expecting to look like that.

Jack froze for half a second, and it was only noticeable if you were really paying attention. His mouth opened just slightly, like he was about to say something and forgot the words. His eyes did a quick sweep—face, hair, eyes, outfit. And then he recovered, tossing on that signature smirk he wore like a badge.

"Hey," he said coolly. "You must be Everlyn."

She looked up from the couch, smile blooming. "And you must be Jack. I've heard a lot about you."

"Only the good stuff, I hope."

"That depends on your definition of 'good.'"

Quinn snorted from the kitchen, and Jack rolled his eyes. But his gaze didn't leave her. Something about her pulled at him—a softness behind her confidence, something that made his usual smoothness falter just a little.

And when she smiled at him—really smiled, all teeth and light—Jack Hughes, the confident, cocky middle brother, felt his heartbeat do something stupid.

Like skip.

He'd seen her before, sure. In the hallways at school. At volleyball games he'd gone to half-heartedly with Quinn, back when she was just a name he'd heard in passing. But seeing her now, in his home, on his couch, laughing with his brothers?

She wasn't just a name anymore.

And he didn't know it yet—but this girl, this friend of his brother's with the soft voice and the sharp mind, was about to change everything.

⸻

It was subtle at first.

A lingering glance here. A too-long laugh there. The way Jack's eyes would flick toward her in a crowded room, like his brain was hardwired to track her presence no matter what else was happening.

Jack Hughes had a crush.

A real one. The kind that made your chest tighten and your thoughts trip over themselves. But this wasn't just any girl. This was Everlyn Briar. The girl who tutored his older brother. The girl who had somehow woven herself into the fabric of the Hughes home like she'd always belonged there. The girl who showed up with a smile and stayed with a purpose.

And Jack—who usually had no trouble flirting, who could talk circles around most girls his age—suddenly found himself stammering or going completely silent anytime she looked at him for too long.

He hated it.

Well, no. He didn't hate her. God, no. He hated the situation.

Because she was Quinn's friend. His tutor. His person. And there were unspoken rules about that kind of thing—lines that brothers just didn't cross. So Jack kept it cool. He played the role of younger brother, occasional background comic relief, the charming but harmless kid who just so happened to stare a little too long when she wasn't looking.

But all of that restraint unraveled a little the night Quinn decided to throw a party.

Their parents were out of town for the weekend—a rare escape for Ellen and Jim to have a weekend to themselves—and Quinn, being a senior with a newly found sense of confidence and freedom, took full advantage.

The guest list was mostly hockey friends and volleyball players, a mix of athletes and classmates that made the house feel loud and alive by 9 p.m. Jack got the nod to invite some of his own people too, a gesture from Quinn that meant more than it seemed.

Jack wasn't exactly part of the "cool" senior crowd yet, but he could hold his own. And when he found out Everlyn would be there—of course she'd be there—he felt this strange mix of nerves and excitement hum beneath his skin all day.

He played it off well. Showed up in a backwards hat and his best hoodie, dapped up his friends, cracked jokes in the kitchen while snagging handfuls of chips. But all of it—every last bit—was background noise.

Because the second Everlyn walked through the door, it was like gravity shifted.

She was wearing a soft, oversized crewneck and jeans with a rip in the knee, nothing overly flashy or dramatic. Her hair was half up, half down, effortlessly undone, and she wore that familiar look of ease and lightheartedness that made her glow in every room.

Jack could barely breathe.

She looked beautiful. Not in the "done-up for a party" way, but in the "this is just who I am" way. She laughed with her whole body, tossing her head back when one of her friends made a joke, squealing when she missed her last cup in beer pong by a half inch. Every reaction was real—genuine, unfiltered, and full of life.

And Jack?

Jack was down bad.

He nursed a red solo cup and watched her from across the room, his gaze drifting back to her like a reflex. He tried to distract himself—mingled, played a game of flip cup, even tried talking to a girl from his grade who'd clearly been waiting for him to notice her. But none of it landed.

His attention was elsewhere. Always.

And then, at some point in the night—around 1:30 a.m., when the music had dipped into mellow territory and some people had already started crashing on couches—he realized he hadn't seen Everlyn in a while.

Like, a while.

It wasn't like her to just disappear without a word, especially not from a party like this. And something about that silence scratched at the back of his brain.

So Jack set his cup down and started looking.

He did a quick sweep of the main floor—kitchen, basement, backyard. Nothing. He passed by groups of people talking, laughing, someone snoring softly under a blanket on the recliner, but no sign of her. His steps grew quieter as he crept upstairs, the noise from below fading into a dull hum.

And that's when he found her.

The door to Luke's room was cracked slightly, soft light filtering out into the hallway. Jack pushed it open just enough to peek inside—and his heart stilled.

Everlyn was curled up on the far side of Luke's twin bed, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other resting gently across Luke's chest. The youngest Hughes was sound asleep, face relaxed in that vulnerable way only kids have when they're completely safe. A "Fast and the Furious" movie played quietly on the TV, Vin Diesel's voice barely audible over the low rumble of cars on screen.

Jack stood frozen in the doorway.

There she was. Not at the center of the party, not surrounded by friends or attention or lights—but here. With Luke. Tucked into a quiet room, keeping him company, protecting him in the smallest, softest way.

His throat tightened.

Behind him, he heard quiet footsteps and turned to find Quinn standing there, eyes a little glassy from a few drinks but still focused.

"She's been checking on him all night," Quinn said, voice low. "Kept sneaking upstairs just to make sure he was okay. I think he was a little overwhelmed with all the noise, and she didn't want him to feel left out. Ended up tucking him in about half an hour ago, I guess."

Jack didn't say anything at first. He just watched her for a moment longer, taking in the way her brow was slightly furrowed in sleep, how her fingers were still gently curled around the blanket like she didn't even realize she'd nodded off.

"She's got a big heart," Quinn added, clapping Jack softly on the back before heading downstairs again. "We're lucky to have her around."

Yeah, Jack thought, his pulse thudding. He really was.

Because in that moment, standing in the hallway with the light from Luke's room casting a soft glow over Everlyn's sleeping face, Jack Hughes fell just a little deeper into something he couldn't name.

It wasn't just the way she looked tonight. It was the way she was. The way she made herself small to protect others. The way she made herself present when no one else remembered to be.

The way she already cared for his family like it was her own.

And for Jack Hughes, there was nothing more important than family.

So yeah. His crush? It wasn't going anywhere.

Not now.

Not ever.

⸻

If Everlyn Briar had to make a list of the best days of her life, two moments would sit at the very top: Quinn's high school graduation, and the day he got drafted to the NHL.

Both days were drenched in joy, but for different reasons. Graduation felt like the end of a chapter, the beautiful culmination of everything they'd built together—study sessions, long nights, practice runs, pep talks in the hallway, inside jokes exchanged during fire drills. Draft day, though? That felt like the beginning of something. The launch of a dream.

And she was there for all of it.

She still remembered Quinn's graduation day like it was etched in sun. The weather was perfect—clear skies, a breeze just strong enough to ruffle the sea of navy blue gowns lined up in rows on the football field. Ellen was crying before the ceremony even started. Jim pretended not to be emotional, but she caught him wiping at his eyes with his sleeve more than once. Luke was the only one trying to play it cool, muttering about how boring the speeches were while secretly filming every second on his phone.

Everlyn sat with the Hughes family, sandwiched between Ellen and Luke, and beamed like it was her son crossing the stage. Her hands were sore from clapping, her cheeks aching from smiling, but she didn't care. Seeing Quinn walk across that stage, cap tilted slightly, grinning ear to ear as his name was called? That was her best friend. And she couldn't have been more proud.

That night, they went to prom together.

It wasn't romantic—not exactly. It was one of those things they'd decided months in advance, a casual promise made in between chemistry notes and late-night FaceTimes. But when the day came, and Everlyn stepped out of her car in a pastel yellow silk dress that caught the light like liquid sunshine, Jack had nearly dropped the bowl of cereal he was holding.

She was glowing. Absolutely glowing.

Quinn, to his credit, played it cool. He met her at the top of the driveway in a navy suit that matched her dress perfectly, his tie just slightly crooked, which she fixed with a teasing smile and a soft touch. Ellen took so many photos, shouting at them to get "just one more!" while Jim muttered something about missing the days when prom meant sitting on the couch with cartoons and juice boxes.

At prom, Everlyn and Quinn were the couple everyone pointed to—even if they weren't a couple at all. They danced to every song, even the slow ones. They laughed until their sides hurt, took blurry selfies, and snuck out early to get milkshakes at the diner down the street. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Quinn managed to snag a make-out session with a senior volleyball player (thanks to a little not-so-subtle wingwoman energy from Everlyn), and he spent the rest of the night grinning like he'd just scored the game-winning goal.

But the real crown jewel came a few weeks later: draft day.

Everlyn still remembered how tightly Quinn had gripped her hand that morning. They'd flown out west with the whole Hughes crew—Ellen, Jim, Jack, and Luke—and even though the energy was pure chaos, it felt like magic. The kind of day you knew would change everything.

The venue buzzed with anticipation. Reporters hovered like hawks, camera flashes strobing across the crowd. Families in tailored suits and perfectly curled hair. Players fiddling with their ties, bouncing their knees, checking their phones every five seconds.

But Quinn? He was steady. Calm. Like he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Because he had.

And when Vancouver called his name—Quinn Hughes, selected seventh overall by the Vancouver Canucks—the room erupted. Ellen gasped. Jim clapped hard enough to sting. Jack yelled something indistinct, probably profane, over the roar of applause.

Everlyn?

She stood up so fast she knocked over her chair.

She threw her arms around him, and the hug they shared was the kind of thing you felt in your soul. Tight. Breathless. The kind of hug that said, we did it. That all the long nights and frustrations and growing pains were worth it. She buried her face in his shoulder and whispered, "I'm so proud of you," more times than she could count.

He hugged her back just as fiercely. "Couldn't have done it without you, Eve."

He meant it.

The hours that followed were a blur of interviews, handshakes, smiles, and congratulations. Quinn was passed around from one media outlet to the next, pulled into rooms with cameras and sponsors and flashbulbs. And in the swirl of it all, Everlyn found herself drifting toward the one person who felt just as out of place as she did.

Luke.

He was quieter than usual, maybe overwhelmed by the spotlight or just missing the familiarity of home. Either way, he stuck close to Everlyn's side, and she didn't mind one bit.

They wandered the venue together, sipping soda from plastic cups, taking photos with cardboard cutouts, watching the draft board update in real time. At one point, she let him lean his head on her shoulder, his hair slightly messy from his button-down shirt collar.

"You okay, bud?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Just... a lot."

She nodded. "I get it."

They didn't need to say much after that. Sometimes, comfort was just existing beside someone who didn't need you to explain how you were feeling. And Luke, in many ways, felt like the little brother she never had.

He'd called her "Evie" for the first time that day. Just once, slipping it in casually when she handed him a packet of Skittles from her purse.

It stuck.

And she didn't realize it then—but Jack had noticed.

He'd been across the room, getting a bottle of water, and he'd looked up just in time to see her crouched next to Luke, laughing at something he said. Her hand resting on his shoulder, eyes soft, her entire posture folded into care.

Jack hadn't said a word. Just watched.

And felt that same tight pull in his chest that had started months ago. The one that always showed up when she was near.

Because Everlyn wasn't just a part of their lives anymore.

She was their life.

And Jack Hughes was starting to wonder if he'd ever be able to untangle his heart from hers.

⸻

When Quinn left for Michigan, everything shifted.

It wasn't abrupt. More like the slow fade of background music when a scene ends. His absence was a quiet hum in the Hughes house, a space that felt too big without his voice filling it. His name was still spoken daily—on calls, in casual conversation, mentioned when Luke would repeat something funny his oldest brother used to say—but the energy had changed.

And with Quinn gone, so too was Everlyn's usual reason to be around.

She didn't disappear, not completely. Luke wouldn't let her. He texted her almost every day, sent her TikToks and memes, even guilt-tripped her with sad selfies captioned "you abandoned me" until she agreed to come by. Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons became their thing—quick visits that turned into full-day hangouts, movies on the couch, post-practice runs to the smoothie shop.

But it wasn't the same. Not like it used to be.

Until Jack had an idea.

Jack Hughes had always been the sharpest of the three brothers. His brain worked fast, calculated odds like a chess master on a sugar high. And when he realized Everlyn's visits were becoming fewer and farther between, he knew he had to do something.

So, naturally, he tanked a math exam.

Not completely—just enough to raise a few parental eyebrows. He followed it up with a lazy English quiz and a conveniently "forgotten" science worksheet. By the end of the week, Ellen was concerned, Luke was suspicious, and Jack was already plotting his next move.

"I think I need help," he told his mom with carefully rehearsed sincerity. "Like... tutoring help."

Ellen blinked. "You? You've had straight A's since third grade."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. "Maybe I peaked early."

Ellen didn't question it further. Within an hour, she was on the phone with Everlyn, practically begging her to step in.

And when she agreed? Jack almost jumped out of his seat in joy. Almost.

The first tutoring session was a masterclass in subtlety.

He showed up with his notebook wide open, pencil twirling between his fingers, and an expression that screamed I'm totally lost. Everlyn raised a brow the moment she saw his notes—color-coded, flawlessly organized, every assignment completed with precision.

"Okay, Einstein," she said, smirking as she slid into the chair across from him. "What exactly do you need help with?"

Jack scratched the back of his neck, doing his best impression of a sheepish student. "Literally everything."

But Everlyn wasn't just smart—she was Everlyn. She saw through him within the first ten minutes.

Especially when he started "accidentally" getting easy questions wrong, or pretending to mix up formulas he clearly had memorized. At one point, she gave him a pop quiz on vocabulary and he aced it in under a minute. His face turned the lightest shade of pink when she smiled at him afterward, tilting her head like she was onto something.

She never called him out.

Not once.

She just played along. Grinned when he fumbled a fake answer. Rolled her eyes when he exaggerated his confusion. And when the session ended, she leaned in with that same mischievous spark in her eyes and said, "By the way... we've got a home game Friday. You should come."

Jack blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, grabbing her bag. "I'll save you a seat."

He went.

And he didn't stop going after that.

Watching her play was... something else. She was electric on the court. All 5'6 of her moving with fire and finesse, jumping higher than anyone expected, hitting balls with a precision that made the crowd gasp. Jack sat in the stands with Luke, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, trying to look nonchalant while fighting the urge to stand every time she scored.

She was fierce. Fearless. Unstoppable.

It did things to him.

After her games, she'd find him outside the gym, sweaty and glowing and absolutely radiant. Sometimes she'd toss him a teasing smile, asking, "Did I impress?" like she didn't already know the answer. And he'd say something dumb like, "You were okay," just to make her roll her eyes.

He loved when she rolled her eyes at him.

In return, she started showing up to his games. Sometimes she'd sit beside Luke, sometimes she'd bring one of her friends. Once, she even wore his NTDP jersey over her sweatshirt—completely nonchalant, like it meant nothing.

It meant everything. Seeing her in the stands with his name and number on her back sent shivers down his spine. 

Jack played like he had something to prove when she was in the crowd. Moved faster. Sharper. Pushed harder. His coaches noticed, his teammates noticed. He noticed.

And God, she was really starting to know his world too. She could match Trevor's chaotic energy beat for beat, holding her own against his wildest banter. Cole Caufield called her "the team MVP" after she roasted three of them during a team dinner. They adored her. Everyone adored her.

Jack wasn't even jealous. Just in awe.

He watched her laugh with his friends, toss popcorn at Luke, joke with his mom, and still somehow make time for him—quiet moments in the car, shared glances across the room, inside jokes exchanged through nothing but a look.

They were becoming close. Real friends.

And maybe that should've been enough.

But it wasn't.

Because somewhere between the tutoring sessions and the post-game fries, Jack's feelings had spiraled into something he couldn't hide anymore. Not from himself. Not from the way his stomach flipped when she touched his arm. Not from the way his pulse picked up when she said his name a little too softly.

He was falling for her. Fast.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Because she was leaving soon. Graduation was around the corner. College applications were already in, and she'd been talking about campuses in other states. Other coasts. Her life was about to expand in ways his couldn't touch yet.

And Jack?

He was just starting to feel like she saw him as more than Quinn's little brother.

So now, every laugh they shared felt a little too short. Every hug a little too brief. Every goodbye a little too heavy.

He knew the clock was ticking.

But God, if he could just freeze time for a little while longer... just a few more "tutoring"sessions, a few more late-night texts, a few more games where she wore his name on her back...

Maybe he could find the courage to tell her how he felt.

Before it was too late.

⸻

She was gone now.

Off chasing sunshine in California, trading small-town hallways for sprawling palm trees and crowded lecture halls. UCLA looked good on Everlyn—of course it did. Top volleyball program. Dream business school. A campus that buzzed with potential. It was everything she had worked for, everything she deserved.

But for Jack Hughes?

It felt like something had been hollowed out of him the moment she left.

He didn't say goodbye like he should have. Not really. He gave her one last hug, half-sincere, half-guarded, a little too quick. He told her to have fun. She promised to keep in touch. She didn't look back when she got in the car.

And then she was gone.

Jack tried to pretend it didn't affect him. He threw himself into hockey, training harder than ever in preparation for his draft year. He focused on speed, strength, footwork—anything to keep his mind off the ache that curled around his ribs every time he caught a glimpse of her old volleyball hoodie in the laundry room.

But autopilot only lasted so long.

Luke was quieter too. Less sunshine, more shadow. He didn't say it out loud, but Jack could feel it—Everlyn's absence hung in the Hughes house like a missing puzzle piece. Meals were quieter. Weekend movie nights didn't feel the same. Even Ellen had made a comment once, half-joking, "I miss our fourth child."

Jack missed her in ways he didn't have words for. Missed the way she used to steal fries off his plate. The way her laugh bounced down the stairs before she did. The way she made everything—everyone—feel lighter.

And then came Thanksgiving.

Quinn was coming home from Michigan. That was expected. The house had been buzzing with preparations all week—Ellen bustling through the kitchen, Jim dusting off the leaf for the dining room table, Luke threatening to eat the pie before it was even baked. Jack was looking forward to it, sure. But even the idea of a full Hughes reunion couldn't quite lift the haze that had settled in his chest since September.

Until the door opened.

And everything stopped.

It was Quinn standing there, his suitcase by his side, a trimmed beard on his jaw that made him look more like a man than a teenager. He grinned wide, stepping into the warmth of the house, pulling Luke into a one-armed hug.

But Jack barely registered his brother's return.

Because behind Quinn, suitcase in hand, stood Everlyn.

Her hair was longer now, sun-kissed and wavy in a way that only California could do. She wore an oversized hoodie with her school's logo on the sleeve and that same soft expression she always had when she was trying not to cry from happiness.

Time froze.

And then it crashed into motion.

Quinn stepped aside just in time for Everlyn to drop her bag and launch herself into Jack's arms.

"You're here," he whispered into her shoulder, voice rougher than he meant it to be.

"Of course I'm here," she murmured back. "Where else would I be?"

She smelled like vanilla and travel and something achingly familiar. Jack didn't let himself hold her for more than a second too long—but God, did he want to.

Then came Luke, barreling down the stairs like he'd been summoned by fate itself. "EVE!"

She barely had time to turn before he was lifting her off the ground, arms wrapped tight around her waist.

"Missed you so much," he blurted, voice muffled against her hoodie. "You're not allowed to leave again. I'm serious. I'll hide your passport. I'll chain your suitcase to the water heater."

She laughed, and something in the house shifted back into place.

Home.

That's what she was. What she had always been.

Jack stood back and watched her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She still looked at him the same way—fond, soft, maybe a little amused. And he'd gotten better at hiding how her gaze lit a fire under his skin. Better at swallowing the lump that rose in his throat when she was near.

She knew, of course.

Of course she knew.

She was Everlyn Briar. Too observant. Too intuitive. She could solve calculus in her head and read body language like a second language. Jack's not-so-subtle stares. The way he hovered near her but never quite reached. The way he smiled too hard when she was around.

And Quinn? He knew too. Jack could feel it in the sideways glances, the way his older brother's smirk would twitch upward anytime Jack so much as offered to get Eve a drink.

But no one said anything.

Because Jack never said anything.

And maybe that's why nothing ever happened.

The weekend was a blur of traditions and warmth. They ran the annual turkey trot that morning—Jack and Luke sprinting ahead like maniacs, Everlyn laughing breathlessly as she tried to keep up. They came home to Ellen's legendary spread: turkey so tender it fell apart, stuffing soaked in butter, mashed potatoes Jack would defend with his life.

It was loud. It was chaotic. It was perfect.

And when the night wound down, it felt almost scripted.

Just like old times, Everlyn slipped upstairs after dessert, claiming she was "just checking on Luke." And just like always, no one questioned it. She found him curled up in bed with the newest Fast and Furious playing, already half-asleep.

She climbed in beside him without a second thought.

Jack found them later, lights dimmed, movie credits rolling. Luke snoring softly. Everlyn curled against him, one hand draped protectively over her like Luke was afraid she would disappear if he let go. 

It made his heart ache in ways he didn't know how to name.

Because for the first time in months, everyone was home.

Everyone.

And still, something about her felt impossibly far away.

⸻

Time had a strange way of looping in on itself.

One minute, she was cheering for Quinn on his draft day, wiping away tears in between interviews and snapshots, her dress wrinkled from hugging everyone in sight. And then—just like that—it was years later, and she was back in that familiar whirlwind. Only this time, it wasn't Quinn's name echoing through the arena.

It was Luke's.

She had promised herself she wouldn't cry. Really, she had. She made it halfway through the morning with dry eyes and a steady smile. But the second his name was called—Luke Hughes, drafted to the New Jersey Devils—it was over.

A mess. A disaster, honestly.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, breath catching in her throat, trying desperately not to smudge the mascara she'd put on with care. Josh Norris had leaned over halfway through the ceremony, gently tapping her shoulder with a tissue and whispering, "Don't worry, he's the last Hughes to be drafted so you won't have to do this all over again next year."

She laughed through her tears.

Because this moment—this—was sacred.

Luke was beaming next to his buzzing brothers up front, his hands shaking just slightly as he held up his new jersey. And her heart swelled with something fierce and maternal, the same way it had when he was thirteen and scared to come downstairs to a party, when she tucked him in during Fast & Furious marathons, when he looked at her like she hung the stars just for him.

He was grown now. Taller. Broader. More confident. He was mature. Luke Hughes was no longer the little boy she once met. 

He was a man now.

But he'd still held her hand before the draft started.

Still leaned into her shoulder when the nerves kicked in.

Still whispered, "I'm glad you're here," like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She had always been a safe space for him. And she always would be.

⸻

Jack had changed too.

Not overnight. Not all at once. But the slow kind of change that creeps in between seasons. Years had passed. His name had been called. His life had launched in ways most people only dreamed about.

And with every new city, every new headline, every new spotlight—he still thought about her.

They stayed in touch. Little messages. Summer meet-ups. Inside jokes exchanged over text. But distance made it easier to push those feelings away. He had flings, distractions, moments of temporary interest. He convinced himself it had passed.

That what he felt for her was just nostalgia.

Until she came back.

She graduated from UCLA in 2022—business degree, communications minor, a resumé that practically glittered. And then, in the kind of twist only the universe could write, she landed her first job in New Jersey. A start-up company. PR and account management. Fast-paced. Groundbreaking. Local.

Jack didn't find out until a week after she moved in.

He meant to message her first. He really did. But time slipped, and she was adjusting, and he didn't want to seem overeager.

Until she received a package at her new apartment. No note. No message. Just a red New Jersey Devils jersey—his jersey—and two tickets to their home opener.

He knew she'd understand.

And she did.

⸻

That night, she walked into the Prudential Center and it felt like the world had hit rewind. Only this time, the crowd was bigger. Louder. Older. And Jack? Jack wasn't a boy anymore.

He was Jack Hughes now.

Franchise face. Highlight reel superstar.

And the second she saw him skate out onto the ice, she felt her heart stop for a beat.

Because he wasn't the lanky, backwards-hat-wearing teenager who used to fake bad grades just to sit beside her. He was taller now. Broader. His movements were sharp, calculated. Every stride held purpose. The crowd roared and chanted his name when he touched the puck. He didn't just play hockey. He commanded it.

She couldn't take her eyes off him.

And he?

He felt her the second she stepped into the arena.

Didn't see her at first. But he felt her. Like gravity.

After the win, he found her in the tunnel. Same smile. Same soft eyes. But different now. Grown. Glowing.

"Hey, stranger," she said, tugging lightly at the jersey he'd sent.

He laughed, that same dopey grin breaking across his face. "Looks better on you."

They hugged—longer than they should have. He smelled like ice and sweat and home. And when they pulled back, something unspoken lingered in the air between them. A pause. A beat. Something that had never quite gone away.

They went out for drinks after, just the two of them. A quiet bar, warm lights, quiet music humming in the background. He looked different here too. Not just older—steadier. The way he carried himself, the way he ordered her drink without asking, the way he leaned back and watched her talk like he was cataloging every word.

He wasn't cocky. Just... sure of himself.

It was attractive. She wouldn't lie.

And Jack? Jack felt like he had been punched in the chest.

Because she was even more beautiful now. Effortlessly radiant. Still that same warmth, still that same grace. But there was something new too—something confident, something grown.

He kept staring at her. In the flicker of candlelight, with her hand curled around her glass and her lips curved in that same soft smile, Jack felt like he was sixteen all over again.

Breathless.

Totally wrecked.

Totally in love.

And it scared the hell out of him.

⸻

They made it a tradition—weekly coffee runs, dinner or drinks after games, late-night walks through the city. She fit into his world like she always had. Seamlessly.

She met the team. Jesper pulled her into a bear hug like they hadn't missed a day. Dawson was polite and immediately impressed. And Nico? Nico looked like he was about to make a move—until he caught Jack watching her.

Just one look.

That's all it took.

No one made a move after that. No one had to.

Because it was obvious.

She was Jack's girl.

Maybe not officially.

Maybe not yet.

But everyone knew.

Especially him.

⸻

It started the way it always did—with a ticket.

Every home game, like clockwork, Jack left two tickets for Everlyn at will call. No message. No pressure. Just a quiet gesture, a ritual of theirs that said you're welcome here. Always. And she'd used the first one nearly every time.

But the second?

She never had. Until now.

Jack's world tilted the second he saw her walk through the tunnel with someone else by her side.

He was tall. Blonde. Crisp linen shirt. One of those designer watches that practically screamed my dad plays golf with your CEO. The kind of guy you'd expect to see ordering a $19 martini and not blinking. His name was Jordan, and he shook Jack's hand with the kind of over-firm grip that tried too hard to say something.

Jack didn't flinch, but God, he wanted to.

Jordan asked questions like he was running an interview—"How's the ice this season? Do you ever get recognized on the street?"—and Jack answered through clenched teeth, polite but cold. He watched as Jordan rested a hand on Everlyn's back, too casual, too familiar. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Still, Jack put on the happy face.

Because that's what he did. He wasn't going to ruin anything for her—not now, not ever. She looked happy. And if that was real... well, then Jack could deal with it. He'd spent years pushing those feelings to the back of his mind. What was a few more months?

But it was a few more months.

And Jordan didn't go anywhere.

He became a fixture. At games. At dinners. Tagging along to post-game drinks, always ordering for the table like he knew what everyone wanted. Everlyn still made time for Jack, but it was different now. Tighter. More filtered. Coffee dates became his favorite part of the week—not because they were exciting, but because they were just her. No Jordan. No compromise.

Just them.

Just how he liked it.

⸻

The lake house in Michigan was supposed to be a sanctuary.

It always had been. A safe haven carved into the summers. A place where the Hughes brothers could take a breath, train hard, play harder, and be surrounded by the people who made the noise feel quiet.

It was Quinn's idea to bring everyone together that summer—an annual tradition, their own off-season camp that just so happened to include boats, beers, and more competitive tubing than anyone should legally survive.

The house buzzed with energy. Quinn had his old teammates in town—Josh and Dalton Norris, all heart and chaos. Luke brought his crew from Michigan—Dylan Duke, Mark Estapa, Ethan Edwards, each of them slipping seamlessly into the rhythm of the house. Jack, of course, had Trevor and Turcs, whose personalities were basically caffeine personified.

And Everlyn?

She brought Jordan.

The mood shifted the second they arrived. Jordan barely greeted anyone before making a beeline for the deck, muttering something about needing to "take it easy" after the drive. The Hughes boys watched Eve with subtle worry, noting the way her shoulders tensed, the way she scanned the room like she was looking for permission to be herself again.

They tried to bring her in. Quinn cracked a beer and started loading up the boat. Jack blasted a playlist of her favorite cheesy country songs. Luke ran to get the rope for tubing.

"Come on," Quinn called out, tossing her a life jacket with a grin. "Let's get out there."

She smiled—small, tight—but before she could step forward, Jordan touched her wrist.

"You don't have to go, babe. I was hoping we could chill here, have a drink or two. You've been talking about relaxing all week."

The way he said it wasn't cruel. Just expectant.

And Everlyn, as always, folded.

"Yeah," she said, her voice barely above the waves. "That sounds nice."

She took the jacket off. Handed it back to Quinn. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

The brothers all exchanged a look.

Jordan hadn't just dimmed her light—he was stomping it out, slowly.

⸻

Quinn didn't wait long.

As soon as Jordan disappeared back to Jersey, he pulled Everlyn aside. They slipped down the dock together, away from the buzz of the house and the music, until it was just the lapping of the water and the heaviness of unspoken words.

He didn't sugarcoat it.

"You're not okay," he said.

She froze. "Quinn..."

"You don't laugh the same. You don't light up the way you used to. I watched you talk yourself out of joining the boat like you were doing him a favor for existing."

She blinked hard. "It's complicated."

"No, it's not. He's not your partner, Eve. He's your leash."

That broke her.

Her lip trembled. She turned away for a second like she could hide it, but Quinn stepped forward, pulled her into a hug, and the truth spilled out like water over a dam.

It was like this in Jersey. Jordan always had a reason why she shouldn't go out. Why she should stay in. He didn't trust the hockey scene. Didn't like her independence. The lake house made him uncomfortable. Her made him uncomfortable.

Quinn listened, jaw clenched.

"You don't deserve this," he said firmly. "You never did. You're allowed to be loved out loud, Everlyn. Not hidden. Not controlled."

She cried. God, she cried.

But when she went to bed that night, her decision was already made.

⸻

The next morning, she called Jordan.

She ended it. Direct. No stalling. No soft exit.

He didn't take it well.

He accused her—accused her of having feelings for one of the Hughes boys. "It's always been one of them, hasn't it? I should've known the second you made me come to this dumb lake house."

He hung up before she could say anything back.

And it hurt. It did. She was human, after all.

But she walked out onto the dock not five minutes later, barefoot, hoodie over her bikini, and looked out at the water where Jack and Trevor were laughing on the boat. The sun was shining. The breeze was warm. Luke waved at her from the deck, and Quinn handed her a beer with a proud smirk.

She was home.

And this time, there was no one telling her she couldn't enjoy it.

⸻

Jack couldn't stand it anymore.

Everlyn was smiling again, sure—but not the way she used to. Her laugh was a little quieter, her jokes a little softer, like she was afraid to take up too much space. She still had that spark, but it flickered instead of burned, like someone had dimmed her and walked away.

And Jack? Jack wanted to reignite her.

So he made it his mission to bring her back to life—one small act at a time.

He started with breakfast.

She always loved pancakes. He remembered that. Waffles were fine, but pancakes? Pancakes made her eyes light up. So every morning, when someone inevitably asked what to make for the house, Jack was the first to say it:

"Pancakes. Definitely."

He'd sneak her the last piece of bacon when no one was looking, tucking it onto her plate with a smirk. He'd always save her a seat next to him. And when the kitchen got too loud or crowded, he'd silently pass her the syrup like it was their secret language.

He got up early now, before the sun even stretched across the lake, because he knew she liked her morning runs. He'd tie his shoes and jog beside her, matching her pace, letting her pick the music. They didn't talk much—didn't need to. Just ran side by side, feet hitting the dirt road in quiet rhythm, breaths syncing up like clockwork.

He volunteered for errands now too. Grocery runs. Beer pick-ups. Ice refills.

"I'll go," he'd say casually. "Eve, wanna come?"

She always did.

They'd play music too loud in the car. Race to find the weirdest flavor of chips in the store. Argue over the right ratio of peanut butter to chocolate. He'd lean into her cart, throw in random things just to make her laugh. Her smile was starting to come back, slowly, piece by piece.

And Jack? Jack was falling all over again.

⸻

The fire crackled as the night crept in.

They'd spent all day out on the boat—tubing, flipping off docks, laughing until their stomachs hurt. By the time the sun dipped below the trees, everyone was sun-drenched, half-tipsy, and high on that unbeatable summer haze.

So naturally, they circled the fire pit.

Everyone gathered on the chairs or sprawled out on blankets, drinks in hand, cheeks still flushed from the sun. The playlist was low in the background, country twang giving way to soft indie beats. Someone tossed another log onto the fire, and the stories began.

First came the classics—Quinn's worst playoff beard attempts, Trevor's infamous grocery store prank, Jack's rookie year mishaps. Then came Luke's awkward high school phase, complete with dramatic reenactments of him failing to talk to girls at school dances.

Luke rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Yeah? Well you did the exact same thing when you first met Eve."

Everyone paused.

"You couldn't even sit next to her at dinner for months," Luke went on, completely unbothered. "Because you had such a massive crush on her."

Jack felt the color drain from his face, then immediately return with a vengeance.

The fire masked most of it, but the way his ears burned gave him away.

"OHHHH," Turc and Zegras chorused at the same time. "NO WAY."

Jack laughed a little too hard, trying to brush it off. "That's such a lie, Luke. C'mon."

But then Eve turned toward him, eyes soft, a smile creeping onto her lips. She looked at Quinn first—he gave a knowing nod—and then gently placed her hand on Jack's back.

"It's okay, Jack," she said sweetly. "I thought it was cute. But you were really bad at hiding it."

Dead. He was dead.

"You knew?" Jack asked, face frozen in panic.

"Of course I knew," she said with a small laugh. "I've always known."

And as if that wasn't enough to end him entirely, Ellen strolled out of the house with a tray of cookies and chimed in with perfect timing:

"Oh, Jack. Everyone knew."

The chorus of "OOOOHHHHH!" exploded around the fire.

Trevor nearly fell off his chair. Quinn tossed a marshmallow at Jack's head. Luke looked smug as hell. Jack buried his face in his hands, muttering something about never showing his face again.

It was harmless. All in good fun.

But the second the teasing died down and the yawns started, people began peeling off into bedrooms, one by one. The lake grew quieter, the fire dimming to embers.

And Jack stayed behind.

⸻

He sat there alone, elbows on knees, head tilted back to watch the stars. The air was still warm, but the night felt heavy in a way that pressed on his chest.

She knew. This whole time. He'd spent years hiding feelings he thought would ruin everything—only to find out that she'd seen them from the start.

And she hadn't run. She hadn't pushed him away.

She thought it was cute.

"God," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm such an idiot."

Then came the soft sound of feet on grass.

A blanket settled across his shoulders. A familiar head rested gently against his own.

He looked down and saw her—Everlyn, curled into his side, wrapped in the same blanket, her cheek against his shoulder. Barefaced, makeup long gone, hoodie pulled over her knees.

"Don't worry about it, Jacky," she whispered. "I thought it was adorable. I thought you were adorable."

His heart flat-out stopped.

She thought he was cute too.

He blinked, eyes wide, trying to process what those words meant. What this meant. Her voice was low and sleepy, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it.

She hadn't said it to tease him. She meant it.

Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, letting her warmth melt into his side. She didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just sighed and settled in.

His hand rested at the small of her back, thumb brushing the fabric of her hoodie. His heart was racing.

She always took care of them—of everyone. Always made sure Luke had what he needed, that Quinn had someone to ground him, that Jack didn't feel invisible. She was the glue, the safety net, the one who never let herself fall until she knew they were all okay.

And the thought that she had spent so long dimming herself for someone who couldn't see her? Who wouldn't see her?

It made Jack's jaw clench.

He'd been there. Right there. And he hadn't stepped in. Hadn't spoken up. He'd let her walk through that alone because he was too scared of what it would mean for him.

Never again.

Not after this.

⸻

Things had found their rhythm again.

Back in Jersey, back in their bubble, back in that comfortable hum of familiarity that made every day feel like a deep breath. But this time, there was something more. Something better.

Because now Luke was here too.

Everlyn had 2 out of 3 Hughes boys back under one roof, and it was like someone had finally returned the missing pieces of her soul. She hadn't realized how lonely she'd been until her days were filled again—trips to the rink, late-night Mario Kart tournaments, homemade pasta nights where Jack burned the garlic bread and Luke put entirely too much cheese in the sauce.

It was chaos. It was home.

They shared a three-bedroom apartment in Hoboken with a view of the skyline and a couch that had seen more naps than conversations. When they signed the lease, Luke had casually mentioned the third room being for "hockey gear or guests," but they all knew the truth.

That room was hers.

She didn't officially live there. Not on paper. But she might as well have. Her stuff was in the drawers. Her favorite cereal was on the shelf. Her slippers were by the door. Half her wardrobe was draped across the back of the desk chair. She came and went freely, sometimes staying a night, sometimes staying a week, no one ever asking when she'd be back—because they already knew.

That room would always be waiting.

It was one of the few places in the world where she never had to ask if she belonged.

⸻

One night, she was actually home in her own apartment—a rare occurrence, considering how often she found herself curled up on the Hughes' couch with a blanket and a mug of something warm. She had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped in her comfiest robe, hair twisted up in a towel, when her phone rang.

Quinn.

It started with the usual—how was your day, did you eat, how's the new campaign going, tell Luke to call his mother. But somewhere between casual updates and light teasing, the conversation shifted. Deepened. As it always did with Quinn, eventually.

"I've been thinking about... Jordan," she admitted quietly, eyes focused on the ceiling.

Quinn didn't interrupt. Just waited.

"I just—I feel stupid," she said. "I let him control so much. I let him talk me out of things I loved. I let him make me feel small. And I knew better. I always knew better."

"Evie."

His voice was soft. Steady.

"You're not stupid. You're human. And you left. That's the hard part. You did it."

She swallowed. "It still makes me feel like I lost a year of myself."

"You didn't lose it," he said. "You reclaimed it. One day at a time."

There was a long silence.

Then, like it was nothing at all, Quinn added: "It was nice of Jack to make you smiling his top priority this summer."

Her heart paused.

She sat up a little straighter, eyebrows tugging together. "What?"

"Jack," Quinn repeated. "It was nice of him. To make sure you smiled again."

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Her thoughts were caught in a whirl—memories of pancakes, early morning runs, gas station trips, firelight laughter. The way Jack always showed up in exactly the way she needed.

Quinn continued, voice low and casual.

"He's a nice guy."

Everlyn narrowed her eyes. "I know that, Quinn. I grew up with him."

"No," Quinn said, and this time, his voice had a different weight to it. A quiet emphasis.

"I mean... he's nice."

She stilled.

It was such a simple word. But the way he said it—the subtle dip in tone, the almost affectionate cadence—shifted the meaning entirely.

It wasn't just about kindness. It was about care. The kind of nice that went deeper than polite gestures and well-mannered smiles. It was the kind that showed up when you needed it. The kind that held space without asking for anything in return.

Jack was nice.

He was thoughtful in a way most people weren't. Protective without being possessive. Gentle in a way that made you feel safe. He was the kind of man who made sure everyone else had what they needed before taking anything for himself. He remembered your favorite things and brought them home without saying a word. He loved quietly—but completely.

And suddenly, it hit her:

Jack had always been like that.

With her.

She hung up the call shortly after, claiming she was tired. But sleep never came easy that night.

She laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, Quinn's words echoing like ripples in her chest.

He's nice.

Jack, who always made sure her coffee was right.

Jack, who checked her tires when it snowed.

Jack, who gave her space when she needed it, and warmth when she didn't know she did.

Jack, who never stopped showing up.

She turned her head, looking at the empty side of her bed.

And she thought: Am I crazy?

Was she insane for even considering it? For letting her thoughts wander into dangerous territory? For entertaining the possibility that maybe—just maybe—the boy she'd grown up with, the one who had waited and waited without ever saying it out loud, could be the one she was supposed to see all along?

She rolled onto her side, clutching the pillow to her chest, eyes heavy with questions.

What if she ruined it?

What if she broke the family that saved her?

And worse... what if he didn't feel the same anymore?

What if she had waited too long?

⸻

The annual charity gala had always been part of the routine.

One of those must-attend events on the Devils' calendar. Glitz, glam, donors, handshakes, perfectly staged photo ops—and beneath all that, a chance to raise money for good causes. Jack had done a few now. Eve had come with him to the last one, and the arrangement had always been easy. Casual. Fun.

This year? Different.

She could feel it. In her chest. In her stomach. In the way she stood a little too long in front of the mirror trying to decide between earrings. It had started subtly—just a thought, a whisper of a feeling—but after that conversation with Quinn, it was like a switch had flipped.

She was aware now. Hyper-aware. Of how Jack looked at her. Of how he always waited for her to walk through the door first. Of how he always held her things, brought her snacks, fixed her laces when she wore shoes with ties. Things he'd always done... but things that now screamed louder.

He was nice. But not just that. Not anymore.

He was steady. Thoughtful. Quietly romantic in ways that weren't about flowers or fanfare—but about presence. Constant, unwavering presence.

And for the first time, she wondered what it meant that he never expected anything in return.

⸻

They were supposed to go as a trio—her, Jack, and Luke. But then Luke had the audacity to fall in love and get himself a girlfriend, leaving Everlyn to go solo with Jack. She'd teased him about it for a full week, but truthfully... it made her nervous.

This wasn't just another event. Not this time.

The lead-up felt different. More intimate. Jack had taken her shopping, trailing behind her in boutiques, giving honest feedback with that same crooked grin. He didn't complain once, even when she tried on twelve different dresses and only narrowed it down to two. He just watched. Waited. Carried her purse and snacks and made sure she didn't talk herself out of something she loved.

They picked her gown together.

A maroon silk number that hugged her curves and dipped just low enough to be elegant without being too much. It made her skin glow. It made his mouth go dry.

She said yes to it when he whispered, "That's the one," with a look in his eyes that stayed with her all night.

⸻

The day of the gala, Everlyn turned their shared space into her own personal glam studio. She spread her makeup across the bathroom counter, curled her hair in sections, and took deep, grounding breaths every few minutes to keep from spiraling into full-on nerves.

It didn't help that Jack was being Jack.

Bringing her little snacks every hour like clockwork.

A granola bar. A handful of grapes. A pack of those crackers she loved from the bodega.

He kept her water bottle full, placing it within reach like it was part of the process. "Drink," he'd remind her with a little tap on the shoulder. "No dehydration meltdowns today."

She couldn't help but smile at him. He was in sweats and a hoodie, hair tousled, lounging on the couch while she transformed herself into someone worthy of red carpets.

She didn't know it, but Jack was suffering.

He kept stealing glances through the half-open door, catching flashes of her bare shoulders, the soft shape of her face under golden bathroom light. She was already stunning, and she wasn't even done yet.

When she finally stepped out—hair swept into a soft updo, makeup glowing, maroon gown clinging in all the right places—Jack stopped breathing.

No exaggeration.

She walked into the living room and time froze.

Luke was the first to recover, standing up with a big smile. "Whoa. You look incredible, Eve."

She smiled, smoothing her dress down nervously. "Thanks, Lukey."

Jack?

He was just standing there, mouth slightly open, staring like he'd never seen a woman before.

Because he hadn't. Not like this.

This wasn't just Everlyn, his best friend, the girl who made pancakes and knew how he liked his coffee. This was Everlyn, the woman. Powerful. Elegant. Ethereal.

Maroon and gold and glowing from the inside out.

He stepped forward slowly, all black tux hugging him perfectly—hair freshly cut and styled, thanks to her insistence, and now gelled into something polished but still him.

"You..." he finally managed, voice rough. "You look unreal."

Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment they just stood there, looking at each other, the noise of the apartment fading into silence.

"I had help," she said softly, nodding toward him. "You picked the dress, remember?"

"Still," he murmured. "Doesn't feel real."

And the way he looked at her then?

It was reverent.

Not hungry. Not lustful. Just... soft. In awe.

Like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

And maybe she was.

⸻

The gala started the same as every other year.

Bright lights. Sparkling gowns. Clinking glasses. Jack and Everlyn moved through the crowd like they always had—effortlessly side by side. He guided her gently through the sea of donors and sponsors, a hand resting on the small of her back like he'd always belonged there.

But this time... that simple touch felt different.

It was warm. Steady. Firm in a way that made her feel held—not just escorted. Not just shown off.

Protected.

And Everlyn couldn't stop thinking about it.

Jack chatted easily, charming everyone as usual, but her body was attuned to him. The whisper of his palm. The careful way he shifted her gently toward conversations. The pride in his voice when he introduced her as his date—even if it was unspoken, unofficial.

She didn't say anything. Couldn't.

Because every time she looked at him tonight, all she could hear was Quinn's voice in her head.

He's nice.

Not just nice. Jack Hughes nice. The kind of nice that meant pancakes in the morning and water bottles filled without asking. The kind that stood beside you silently until you were ready to speak.

And right now, he was looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time—even though he'd always seen her.

⸻

The DJ opened the floor for slow dances, and Jack didn't hesitate.

He turned to her with a soft, crooked smile. "Come on."

They'd danced together before. Plenty of times. It had never meant anything before. But now? As they found their spot on the dance floor, facing each other, hands tentatively finding their place—it meant everything.

The music hummed low, a soft melody that wrapped around them like a secret. Her hand slipped into his, the other resting on his shoulder. Jack's free arm slid around her waist with quiet confidence.

And then... stillness.

They were swaying. They were dancing. But all Jack could focus on was the way Everlyn was looking at him.

Intensely. Softly. Like she was searching for something and finding it in his face.

He studied her—tried to decode it. Her eyes were locked on his like she couldn't look away. And for the first time in all the years he'd known her, he realized she was finally seeing him back.

"What's on your mind, Evie?" he asked, voice just above a whisper.

She didn't answer.

She just kept looking at him. Drinking him in. Her mind was running wild—flashing through every moment that had led them here.

The shy dinners when he couldn't look her in the eye. The fake bad grades. The way he always showed up. Every summer spent putting her first. Every little thing she'd brushed off as "just Jack being Jack."

But now she understood.

He'd been in love with her this whole time.

And she'd missed it.

She swallowed, breath hitching. "You," she said softly.

Jack blinked. "Me?"

"I can't stop thinking about you."

He stared, stunned. Heart leaping. Breath catching. He scanned her face again and again, like he needed confirmation that this was real—that she was real.

And then it hit him.

The look in her eyes.

The one he'd been wearing for years.

She had it now. That open, unfiltered, aching gaze that he used to hide behind smirks and excuses. She was seeing him—really, truly seeing him—and God, it made his chest burn.

The song ended, but Jack didn't hear the music stop. The room disappeared. His grip on her hand tightened as the MC's voice faded into the background.

They returned to their table, but Jack couldn't focus. Couldn't breathe.

He was spinning.

Eve sat beside him, her hand resting on top of his. It wasn't new. Not really. But tonight, it was loaded. Charged. Different.

Jack needed air.

⸻

He slipped out without a word and found himself on the rooftop.

The city stretched beneath him, lights flickering, the hum of cars far below. He paced, hand tugging at the collar of his tux, heart pounding out of rhythm.

He was scared. Not of her—but of hope.

Because this was everything he wanted.

And that's when he heard it.

The door opened with a soft click.

He turned—and there she was.

Glistening in moonlight. Her maroon gown catching the breeze. Her updo slightly loosened from the night. Her eyes... locked on his.

They didn't speak.

Didn't need to.

The air between them was thick with unsaid things. It wasn't silence. It was a conversation without words. A thousand unspoken truths floating between them like stars.

Jack looked at her like she held the answers to questions he hadn't dared ask. And Everlyn looked at him like she finally, finally understood what was right in front of her.

And then—they ran.

No hesitation. No overthinking. Just gravity.

They met in the middle. Arms around each other. Breathless. Shaking.

Their foreheads pressed together. Their hands clung tight.

"Jack..." she whispered, barely breathing.

He closed his eyes, voice cracking. "I know, Everlyn... I know."

And then—he kissed her.

Years of waiting, of wondering, of almosts and maybes—gone.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't polished. But it was everything. His hands clung to her waist like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. Her hands framed his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks like she was memorizing the feel of him.

The city roared beneath them.

But up there, on that rooftop, it was silent.

Just two hearts, finally meeting in the middle.

Just two souls, saying what words never could.

⸻

It had been over a year since that night on the rooftop.

Since the city went quiet, and Everlyn stopped running, and Jack finally stopped waiting.

Since the moment their hearts collided in the most certain kind of way—the kind that didn't need promises made with words, because it was all written in the way they looked at each other.

Since then, nothing had been the same.

And yet—everything felt like home.

Every morning, Jack woke up with that same quiet awe he'd had since he was fifteen. The way she hummed while brushing her teeth. The way she'd press her forehead to his before leaving for work. The way she poured her love into everything around her without hesitation or fear.

Every day, he fell harder. Every day, he chose her again.

And Everlyn? She felt like she'd finally exhaled.

Jack Hughes was steady. Warm. Deeply kind in the ways no one else got to see. And he loved her in a way that didn't demand attention—but deserved every bit of it. There was no show, no need for validation. Just him. Quietly hers.

They had made a life together. Not flashy. Not perfect. But theirs.

⸻

It was summer again.

Which meant one thing: the Hughes Lake House was alive.

It was tradition at this point. Offseason hit, and the boys flocked to Michigan like it was a pilgrimage. Quinn was already there, helping Ellen prep bedrooms. Luke had brought a handful of friends from around the league—Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith had become the wide-eyed younger brothers of the group overnight. The Tkachuk brothers had showed up in full chaos mode. And Jack had pulled together the old NTDP gang, making it feel like high school and the NHL were blending into one summer-long sleepover.

The lake house was laughter. Inside jokes. The smell of sunscreen and grilled food and dock water. The soundtrack was country music, clinking beers, and the occasional "WHO let Matthew drive the boat?!"

For the rookies, it was a dream. For the veterans, it was therapy.

And for Everlyn?

It was heaven.

She had her hands full—braiding wet hair, making sure no one left without sunscreen, yelling across the dock to make sure Macklin and Will weren't about to snap their necks trying new wakeboard tricks.

She was the same Eve she'd always been—loving and giving, with open arms and no limit to the space in her heart. She even tucked the rookies in like she had done for Luke all those years ago. Whispering reminders in the dark like,

"You don't have to lose who you are to belong here." "If you can't be yourself with someone, that's not someone worth staying for."

Words she'd once needed herself.

⸻

Jack stood at the door that night, watching her speak to Macklin and Will.

She was seated cross-legged on the living room floor, her maroon hoodie slipping off one shoulder, still in her swimsuit from earlier. Her voice was soft. Reassuring. Patient.

Jack felt his chest ache.

Because God, he loved her.

More than he'd ever loved anything in his life.

She was light. She was grace. And somehow—she was his.

⸻

He found Quinn on the back deck not long after. The moonlight danced across the lake in silver ripples. The sound of crickets filled the quiet. Jack stepped beside him, hands in his pockets, heart full.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

Until Jack broke the silence.

"She's... she's really..."

"I know," Quinn interrupted, smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I know, Jack."

He turned toward him, eyes warm. "I'm so happy for you two. I always knew. But seeing it? It's different. It's real."

Jack laughed softly, almost shy.

"I have it picked out, you know..."

Quinn blinked. "What?"

Jack looked down. Kicked the toe of his shoe against the deck.

"The ring. I got it. Not for now. I want to wait a little longer, but... I just know. She's it. She's always been it. And I got it early as a promise. A vow. For when I'm ready. For when she's ready."

Quinn just stared at him. Then stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

It wasn't long. Wasn't loud.

But it was everything.

Two brothers, standing under a sky they grew up beneath, holding the future in their arms.

Inside, Eve stood in the kitchen, sipping from a mug of tea. She looked around at the house filled with laughter, light, and people she loved.

And her eyes found Jack through the window.

He was looking back at her.

And somehow, she knew.

[jyndor2]

I'm sorry, I do not want to be condescending or disrespectful to people who were more casual fans of rogue one, but it does not escape my notice that the initial response to this show before it aired was mostly "who asked for this???" so for those people, people who did not care a lick about cassian before the show, yeah of course they did not come in with expectations about who he is or the things he has to be and do in order to fit with a film that they don't really care much about.

for many of us who HAVE cared, who WERE ride or die for a cassian show from the moment it was announced, this has been an exercise in frustration and frankly even hurt. so when I say what I am about to say, it isn't because I think we are the only people whose opinions matter. but I am tired of being told since s1 aired that I just don't get what tony gilroy is trying to do, or that I am just a petty shipper, or that I lack media literacy which LMFAO. and I am also aware that my love of this character and the film has absolutely colored my feelings about the show - which I think is probably a better watch for people who did not come into the show knowing or caring about cassian andor as a character.

I understand what gilroy was trying to do. I think he was very successful with s1 even if I didn't like the choices he made for cassian's backstory. but s2 is a different story, and I think the show failed to deliver on what was setup by the first season but more importantly by the film. rogue one is about love - same as andor. the different kinds of love that exist between people, that people have for their communities and for all living beings. the idea of a revolution, to rogue one/andor, is beyond just hating the oppressor - but loving the oppressed, and having a clear understanding of what is to be done to build a brighter future.

this is why the relationship between jyn and cassian in rogue one is the HEART of the film. full stop. whatever the end result (which is of course what matters the most) this was a central part of the story very early on in development of the film, and it also is present in so many of the supplemental works - including in official art, in comics, and of course the novelization.

basically at one point in development, the character who ends up cassian andor is an isb spy who is in a relationship with rebel soldier jyn erso, and only when he sees what happens at jedha (probably jedha, may have been called something else at that point but i don't remember, this is all off the top of my head) does he become a true rebel. at another point, the film ends with jyn and cassian escaping scarif, and then there is a wedding, presumably theirs in the future. of course this ends up getting scrapped because lucasfilm lets the writers kill off everyone at the end, but that doesn't mean that jyn and cassian do not have a romantic element to their relationship.

jyn and cassian are loosely named after the original legends characters who get the death star plans - jan ors and kyle katarn, who are romantically involved.

multiple people involved in the film have said there is probably a kiss that was filmed in the elevator. diego luna was always VERY clear even through andor s1 press that jyn erso was at the very least extremely important to cassian (and back in the day he even said they'd be together and selling fridges lmfao), was his mirror and someone that he felt a serious connection with. diego and felicity clearly played their dynamic as romantic, even if nothing ever happened between their characters because they did not have the time.

the novelization by alexander freed is FULL of clear romantic subtext and outright text especially from cassian's pov. absolutely none of this makes it canon that they WOULD have gotten together had they lived, but it does show an intention that existed for almost as long as the characters did in development - that jyn and cassian's story is a love story, and that it is a love story that ends before it can really begin. that is the tragedy of rogue one - these are people who finally find their home (all of them, not just jyn and cassian, in the cause) and they have to die to save that home. and also it is their home because they WOULD die for it - for the rebellion.

though rebelcaptain has one of the most intimate scenes i have ever seen in star wars (the elevator scene) it is not physically intimate. so to many people that means it's not romantic. which is a shame because it's such a beautiful moment of emotional vulnerability, where these two people finally have a quiet place to just be together, to let all their walls down and belong, but since people are fucking idiots now they think cassian is wishing jyn was ANYONE else lmfao

but that doesn't change the reality of how beloved rebelcaptain is. rebelcaptain immediately inspired so much from the fans - for a mf ship to get as much love as it does to this day is a real testament to how much it is loved by fans. over 5k fanfics on ao3 for a niche non-explicitly canon mf ship is wild. it's the 7th most written about ship on ao3 for all of star wars media. again, for a ship in ONE movie.

of course, a prequel was never going to make jyn and cassian's relationship canon before they even meet. still it is a core part of rogue one and as such I would expect it to haunt the narrative of andor, which it does to some extent, especially in the first season but also in the second. this is not my issue with the show at all because again i understand where they are going with it.

my frustrations with the show are not about cassian having a committed relationship with someone else either. arguably that could have done a lot to move his character to the man who we see in rogue one - and to me it didn't all that well imo because the show doesn't treat cassian andor as if he is an established character with established motivations that we have known for almost TEN years.

my problem is that the show spends more time and energy building up a wonderful ensemble and doing pretty great plot for THEM than it does building cassian into the man we see in rogue one. it wastes too much time in s2 doing a whole lot of nothing, actual nothing, when it needs to be GIVING us what we need. not just what we want. meaning, if you are going to make the case that cassian is talking out of his ass on eadu, you better make that case well - or it won't fucking work.

SHOW us your work, gilroy. don't just tell the audience that cassian is suddenly a great leader, we need to SEE IT. i believe he is but the show does not give any real evidence for it.

it's storytelling 101 - show, don't tell. and considering this is CASSIAN'S backstory, it's a cardinal sin for so much of the development of cassian's core motivations in rogue one to be afterthoughts told to us offhandedly.

an egregious example of this is his relationship with bix.

in a single film, we see more evidence as to why cassian and jyn are so well suited to one another - be it as partners in the rebellion, as friends and/or as potential lovers - than we see of cassian and bix in the entire show. i do not say this to disrespect bixcass shippers, you do you boo, but because honestly I believe this is part of a fundamental problem with andor.

because I actually think the intention of the show is to make that point to us - that bix and cassian are NOT well suited to one another, that they may each be someone that the other WANTS to love, but they are not who they NEED. but I don't think the show gives this the time and attention it deserves.

we are told that bix and cassian are exes in s1, and we see that they broke up because of various incompatibilities - cassian running off and being inconsistent, cassian prioritizing his own needs and wants over bix's, cassian not being open to emotional vulnerability, bix wanting a normal life with a normal guy, etc. no matter how clear it was to me that they had unresolved emotions between them, it was also clear that one of them was always going to hold the other back.

s1 has the room to breathe but also isn't trying to overcome these issues. that is why their friendship, their dynamic, in s1 works on multiple levels - even if I do not ship them - because the show isn't trying to push aside their issues in s1. the first season sets up multiple paths: one that is two first loves who romantically reconnect after a period of personal growth, and one that is two first loves who find that they are better off as friends because their incompatibilities would not be sustainable under the weight of building a revolution. both of which, in order to line up properly with rogue one, would have to end in great tragedy of some sort. not necessarily fridging, but a separation or complete severing of ties because their GOALS ARE NOT THE SAME. not necessarily their goals for the rebellion, although the show does make that clear, but their PERSONAL goals.

it seems as though the show understands this too. the problem comes down to s2 not having the time to explore some very important foundational parts of this supposedly central relationship - or the interest in doing so either.

we do not see them reconnect, which is whack. so not only do we not see how their first teen romance worked (we are just told about cassian sneaking into bix's room lmao) but we also do not see how they fall back in love. because I'm sorry, love is a choice. love is an active thing we must work for. it is not easy, especially in conflict. we see how not easy it is between them once they have already committed to each other, but we do not see WHY they made the choice to rebuild their relationship with one another again, or HOW.

yes, cassian saves bix at the end of s1. okay? bix is deeply traumatized, and we never really see her deal with it. no, the girlboss 2015 era bad bitch coruscant blowout does not count. we also do not see cassian deal with literally any of his traumas either, but we don't see him deal with much.

it seems as though they get back together because they feel like they SHOULD - okay, well then show us WHY. this is supposed to be the heart of the show, right? well show me why that heart beats.

because what I see is cassian and bix fighting, being unwilling to let the other make choices for themselves (bix especially but cassian is guilty of this too) and bix basically reverting to a version of herself we never see in s1, which is a docile, tea-making housewife. cool cool but WHY?? where has it ever been established that bix caleen wants to be a homemaker? that CASSIAN wants that in a partner??

in fact, in the first fucking episode of s1, cassian EXPLICITLY mocks timm for picking a woman who is unruly and rebellious. that moment establishes that cassian understands bix will never be passive, it is not in her nature, and that he doesn't WANT her to be. he thinks timm is a bad match for her because of timm's own preferences for a partner being kind of incompatible with who cassian understands bix to be.

and yet - am I supposed to believe that bix's traumas have changed that core part of her? that a woman who chooses the rebellion is content with not doing ANYTHING? with tea making???

not only is this strike three for tony gilroy passifying a rebellious woman in some way for another character's story (jyn erso, cinta kaz and now bix caleen) it is also totally hard for me to buy because it's not even EXPLORED.

WHY does bix spend her time doing very little (except of course all the stuff she does earlier on offscreen apparently)??? WHY is the rebellion not utilizing her very important skillset (comms and mechanics) when the same revolutions that gilroy has clearly studied so much for this story would have made her very, very useful?

as I said earlier, I think the show makes a decent case for why they ultimately are incompatible. in the end, it comes down to a lack of trust that the other will do the right thing. bix leaves cassian (when she is pregnant; clearly the baby is meant to be cassian's) to go back to the place where she was sexually assaulted for Reasons because she is "choosing the rebellion" but what she is really choosing is to raise a child that cassian would probably want to know about without him even being aware of their existence.

what she is choosing is to not distract cassian from ~his destiny~ which lmao okay sure whatever but GIRLFRIEND you should not have to make that choice. you should trust that he is committed to this ideal you believe so strongly in that you are willing to leave everything behind for good.

because the truth is that yes, bix says that she'll find him someday, and yes, cassian thinks he'd like to find her someday too, but the truth is that this is a betrayal. this is a partner not only forcing the hand of someone they love for an ideal they both supposedly believe in, but also taking away the choice of the partner to have any say in whether or not he has a relationship with a baby that he helped create lmfao. of course a woman has no obligation to involve the genetic father in a baby's life but it's clear that we are supposed to think this is an act of love on bix's part, but... i'm sorry, bix seems to understand (like cassian) that there really is no likely future for their relationship. so if anything, it is selfish. okay. cool, then why is the final scene shot in a way that makes it look sweet and hopeful??? lmfao it looks insane because it IS an insane thing for a person to do.

and am I supposed to believe that cassian and bix would be having unprotected sex during a war???? with their traumas of losing their parents young????? sorry its always been a no for me with rebelcaptain and its a no period.

cassian, who has had his choices taken from him all his life, has this choice taken too - and fuck no I do not get with that, especially not when bix was not forced to do any of this. she CHOSE to leave cassian at his most vulnerable, after witnessing a genocide, something he himself is a survivor of, in order to keep him in the rebellion? girl bye

cassian is overprotective of her to a fault, and it gets them into fights. after her girlboss moment does she even do anything for the rebellion besides "choose" the rebellion for cassian? i literally do not remember a second of her doing anything besides pouring tea and yapping.

so we do not see her recover from her traumas, but we are to assume that she's better now because she tortured her torturer. okay cool, that COULD have been an interesting way to show the audience that revenge does not heal, and certainly not using the pain and suffering of oppressed children to do so will not heal. this could have played into cassian telling jyn to leave krennic at the end of the film, juxtaposing the way he led bix to harming herself further with the way that he asked jyn to spend their last moments together, free from the taint of an easy kill when he knew it was likely krennic wasn't gonna make it.

nope instead we get absolutely nothing. bix suddenly seems okay! great, cool but how did she go from drug addled and struggling with ptsd to beautiful sexy housewife who just so happens to never do anything with any of her skills again from that point?

and that does not serve cassian's story at all. it doesn't even serve her own.

one thing the show does well for her is how it handle's bix's assault. but again, this is how tony gilroy radicalizes bix, as if being tortured by the audio of oppressed murdered children is not enough. there's another avenue for her radicalization: in the first episode, timm mentions a wobani job. meaning bix and timm are working with the prisons (aka labor camps aka concentration camps) for her business. okay well imagine what it would be like to realize that you've been directly profiting off of a system that your friend/lover was enslaved by???

bix as an undocumented woman of course IS of course at risk, and it isn't wrong to show us what that means. the show does make a point of exposing how at risk marginalized women are - from kerri possibly being at the brothel to the way the imperials speak about the dhani women to bix's assault, it's a part of the story and i have no problem with it.

but the purpose was to radicalize her. and what is the purpose in radicalizing bix? to force cassian into serving the rebellion.

even though by then, cassian should be BEYOND committed.

and it's not even something he gets to confront, not really. while it seems to me that they both know their relationship is done for good, while the show seems to recognize that bix was out of pocket for that, why then the image of bix with baby??? why make it seem like she did something good for cassian?

i know, i know. legacy. but i'm sorry that's a legacy that cassian has no ties to but blood. and that's just genetics. not relation, not choice, not family. not necessarily.

it would have made far more sense to show a scene of what cassian was running TO - maybe to jyn, which would have made sense given the shot of saw, but also maybe to bodhi and galen, maybe to anything but what who left him behind and what he was always supposed to LEAVE behind in order for the show to stick the landing.

[solacefish]

✎ File contents - Sebastian Solace x Reader ( 1.3k )

⎙ Examination Results - Sebastian can't handle company, the very thought of another's affection or gaze upon him could make him throw up. So he takes it out on you, by mistake.

⌕ Research Gathered - Angst, Yelling and arguments, Unrequited ( suggested requited ) love, Mentions of his experiments + transformation, Mentions of death, Sebastian can't open up ™.

What did it mean to be loved? What did it mean to love?

Was the dull ache at the bottom of his heart - muffled by mutations and a scarring of who he once was. The tales of his childhood, the sounds of a youth he could never return to. Was that what he longed for? What he dreamt of?

Sebastian didn't dream, he didn't recall the last restful night. Memories stirred between azure eyes, eyes that weren't his own. Nightmares seemed a too gentle term to refer, and terrors wouldn't fully commit to the sickness he felt upon awakening.

The night was the same as any other, having passed out by his desk - having never remembered otherwise. Awoken by the sounds of screaming, echoes of his own against those cold damp facility walls. Never a current sound, always a reminiscent of what had happened to get him into this mess. Always.

Had he remembered to take melatonin from the many drawers that littered the science departments, had he bothered to look at all. The feeling of being lulled, forced, to sleep against his will by medication was not something he happened to be fond of. Not at all.

Running a hand through charcoal locks, hearing the footsteps of an expendable from the outer corridors. Not a moment of rest down here, none were allowed. Had you taken time to rest, you'd have to be risking your life. Urbanshade didn't seem too fond of waiting longer then 5 minutes for their prisoners to move, he'd crossed enough corpses and brain paintings to know.

Awfully so, a facility so willing to kill upon the smallest disturbance.

The expendable crawled through the vent, standing unproud with a ripped wetsuit and cracked mask. Lucky your oxygen tank hadn't been chipped, this whole place was filled with water. He smiles, clasping his hands together and gesturing vaguely to the items that adorned his scales.

"Welcome back .. You already know how this goes, hm?"

He'd recognised you. The one who cannot stay gone - a dead man walking as much as he is. Both of you didn't expire when you were supposed to, and for that you suffer in agony every day.

You nodded, wordlessly walking over to pick up a medkit. He'd noticed a few scratches, a limp on your left leg. Perhaps you'd twisted your ankle, there was enough to run from down here. Enough exercise to be had. They could open a gym, it might be a worthy investment. Rather then experimenting, try new yoga...

"How much?" You look up, and he returns the gaze. Thinking for just a moment, enough to act like he hasn't spent the hours and months down here memorising and practicing the exact amounts of data hed request for each thing he scavenged.

"200. No discount services, never have been. You've been here before, haven't you?" His voice is louder then he remembered. After so long without speaking, he'd forgotten how different the services Urbanshade had cost him from who he was.

You nod, opening the box and immediately giving yourself time to tend to your injuries. wrapping it around a wrist, a leg, anyplace with the crimson bleed that ached to be seen. Sebastian didn't mind the company, but the feeling of nausea that came across his chest the longer you remained was hard to ignore.

"Sebastian," A voice, your voice, brings him back for just a moment. You notice the look in his eyes, and he stirrs where he's stationed for just a moment. "You can talk to me, you know? We're friends, aren't we?"

Friends. Was this a comedy setup?

Sebastian's jaw ached for a moment, letting out an exhale as he remembered the bleeding of his teeth upon his own gums. Whilst biting his tongue and gritting his teeth used to work - it happened to be much more painful after the experiments took place. Unfortunate, but with his humanity stripped away, some sass as a defence wouldn't hurt him as much.

"I don't talk, not to you." He responded bitterly, as if he was straining his voice to keep himself in check. "You remember where you're standing." A huff blew some of the locks out from his face. He didn't see you as any worth, the data you served him so happily was enough to satisfy, however the company wasn't something he was interested in.

"It's nice to open up," You begin, "I know where i'm stood, and I don't mind sitting to be here for you. You're a great guy, honestly, and you need a shoulder to cry on like any other person."

He feels his restraint snap, just a moment. A resistance of a rubber band that had been stretched by a child that moment too far - flicking it at somebody else wasn't enough.

"Don't you fucking dare to call me that." He retorted, his voice echoing off the walls. Sebastian swore he could hear those screams again, of a 19 year old with a life ahead of them. A good person? Were you serious? Were you blind?

A man framed of 9 murders, a man who turned it to 50. How to live with the guilt he was what they made him out to be. A living weapon, with a maw for shredding and tearing, and a claw meant to slide across a throat like butter. To look in a puddle of his self reflection and call himself good? He might as well have let the side effects take him.

You'd flinched, he had noticed, but he hadn't cared. He wanted to make himself clear, for the first time in a long time, to be heard. If you were an unfortunate soul who'd be the one to take his frustrations like a sponge, then he can be the ocean to accompany.

"I'm just trying to help!" You state, he growls. Every bone in his body wanted him to lunge, to rip you apart. The human heart caged beneath the ribs that told him to stop, that ached to be sensitive and free. The DNA that told him to attack, to prowl.

His body was at a war with itself, to tear itself apart. He would never have won.

"I don't need anybodies help!" He yelled, the fins in place of his ears were pinned firmly to the sides of his head. You'd shook your head, and he noticed the reflex that had made you take a step back. You were scared of him. Of the monster before you - had you only just realised he was a predator? He was not ever your friend.

"Please-! I love you-!" The words burst through your lips as the same as sebastians breathing worsens. He can't handle it, it's too much. The sickness of bile in his throat, the acid that threatened to release itself. He wasn't lovable, there was nothing to be adored or admired. You were lying to him, you were pitying him.

"Get out!" There's defiance, the rejection to your words. His body ached, his heart hurt. To be loved was a curse, to love was an unknown. With his breathing heavy, a loud crash as he slammed the vent cover back after you'd scrambled out. He could never be in control of a body that wasn't his to begin with.

Sebastian clutched the sides of his head, the serpentine tail curling around his helpless body. The unfamiliar limbs that tore his soul apart. He could never let himself. He could never see himself ever again.

He hated what it meant to be loved. He hated to be seen, to be known. He hated what they'd done to him, what had become of him. To be loved was to be lied to - to love was to deceive.

Seabstian could apologise later. But he hoped you'd never return. He didn't deserve to await you.

taglist ; @fl1ghtl3ssdrag0n

[kjthenbee]

The more I think about the Nandermo interview scene at the end of S6E3, the more I realize just how significant that entire scene is for Nandor as a character.

These first three episodes have told us multiple times that Nandor is not the person he used to be - he is no longer a purely violent, apathetic, selfish man (though he obviously retains some of those qualities). He's changed - he's softer. And Guillermo is the reason for this change.

We've seen how Nandor used to treat Guillermo early on in the series. I can imagine that when little 19yo Guillermo first came to him, Nandor was dismissive, thinking of him as nothing more than another familiar that he was going to string along for years - and, of course, bright-eyed young Guillermo, who was willing to do whatever it took to become a vampire, wouldn't have cared how he was treated.

But now, 15 some years later, everything is different. Guillermo isn't his familiar anymore. They aren't bound by the power imbalance of that relationship any longer. Guillermo has become someone important to Nandor, possibly more important than anyone has ever been before. No matter how much shit they've gone through, or how much Nandor has fucked things up, Guillermo has always stayed, and he has always cared. Even when he does leave, he never stays gone for long. Nandor has never experienced this type of a relationship with someone before - a relationship with someone who loves and cares for him unconditionally.

In the interview scene, Nandor totally could have messed with Guillermo, could have just... not taken him seriously. He could have done the interview in the main room with all the other vampires and had a laugh about the whole thing, but he didn't. He specifically took Guillermo to a private room to conduct the "interview". And the entire time, he treated it with the utmost sincerity- and you can see it in the way he looks at Guillermo with such attentiveness, such fondness. He lets him talk, and just listens. When Guillermo talks about not having many friends as a child, Nandor sympathizes and tells him that that must have been hard even if he himself does not know what this is like. He smiles with him, and laughs with him.

On top of all of this, Nandor very much could have left Guillermo hypnotized - he could have had his former meek, obedient familiar back by his side. The Nandor from just a couple of seasons ago might have done just that. But now, he's learned. He knows that he can't do that to Guillermo. He can't do that to someone he genuinely loves cares about deeply. The Guillermo that he knows now - confident, competent, and sure of himself - is the Guillermo he loves. Nandor does not want to take that away from him for his own selfish reasons. So, he just lets himself have one thing: Guillermo can sleep under the stairs one last time, then he'll unhypnotize him, and things will be back to the way they were - with them at a distance. But at least Guillermo will be himself.

Soooo yeah. I really hope that this is not just fanservice or whatever and that the writers are actually setting something up between them this time. I want so badly to believe that we might actually get some payoff to this 5 season long will-they-won't-they setup. I mean, seriously - what do the writers have to lose with this being the final season?

I'm trying not to keep my expectations too high just because of how many times we've been burned in the past, but this scene (along with the shed scene where Nandor was still talking like Nixon lmao) have gotten me hopeful again...

So here I am, back in Nandermo hell, one last time...

[branwinged]

Hi, if you’d like, could you expand on how Arya becoming ‘no one’ mirrors how society (hers and ours) sort of erases women who refuse to play by patriarchal rules? Thanks!

yeah sure! so it's less of a mirroring and more of a literalisation of that aspect of her arc. the defining conflict for her character is that she can't and doesn't wish to perform aristocratic femininity and that she yearns for a life outside of those patriarchal restrictions. most fathers will simply not let their girls near a sword, ned's own father didn't, but i do think ned is humouring her when he finds her a dancing master because cat and ned both make this unspoken assumption that it's a phase she'll eventually grow out of. she simply has to, otherwise she has no future in westeros. when ned compares her to lyanna he says, "she was beautiful, and willful, and dead before her time". girls are only ever called willful in books when they're being stubborn (not quietly complying with misogynistic expectations, that is) and ned knows lyanna died because of it. he hires syrio forel for her but in another scene he also lays out her future, it'll be only marriage (Arya screwed up her face. "No," she said, "that's Sansa." She folded up her right leg and resumed her balancing. Ned sighed and left her there) so that's the setup for her story. her gender nonconformity is going to slowly drive her away from and out of westeros. because she doesn't conform she has no future there as a lady. this begins in small ways in agot where she's often mistaken for a boy, which is generally harmless but iirc arya gets very annoyed whenever she's addressed as a boy and is quick to correct it, so i've always considered that an important detail, that she's already being labelled inadequate because she's not correctly performing femininity. then in asos and acok she's forced on the run and has to pretend to be a boy, all the privileges and protection she had at the beginning of the series as a lady of a noble house are taken from her. in effect she's no longer a lady and she's ultimately thwarted from reclaiming her identity as ned's daughter but had she outed herself to her father's bannermen sooner and reunited with catelyn and robb, we know what would've been in immediate store for her: marriage with a frey.

when she arrives at the house of black and white, right before she begins her initiation the kindly man tells her:

“You believe this is the only place for you.” It was as if he’d heard her thoughts. “You are wrong in that. You would find softer service in the household of some merchant. Or would you sooner be a courtesan, and have songs sung of your beauty? Speak the word, and we will send you to the Black Pearl or the Daughter of the Dusk. You will sleep on rose petals and wear silken skirts that rustle when you walk, and great lords will beggar themselves for your maiden’s blood. Or if it is marriage and children you desire, tell me, and we shall find a husband for you. Some honest apprentice boy, a rich old man, a seafarer, whatever you desire.”

normal thing to say to an eleven year old. but this is how westeros views its daughters, they're objects of exchange and arya is once again asked to give herself—her name and her will and her body to a man. and when she refuses that future for the final time, what she's presented with instead is an offer to remove herself from the rest of society:

The price is you. The price is all you have and all you ever hope to have. [...] You will be no one’s daughter, no one’s wife, no one’s mother. Your name will be a lie, and the very face you wear will not be your own.

the faceless men are a death cult, she's symbolically entering the house of death/underworld here (willful and almost dead) and all this is happening at the same time jeyne poole is forced to take arya stark's name, so i'm reading this as arya also being presumed dead and replaced with another girl in westeros, one who can perform traditional femininity better than she ever could and is therefore more suited to role of a lady of a noble house. the role, again, being marriage! and jeyne too has been brutalised to fit that role ("i'm a good girl. they trained me") but i don't think it's a coincidence that the one character who thinks of arya often and keeps her memory alive in adwd is also the one who put a sword in her hands and was the only family relation who openly encouraged her gender nonconforming pursuits. ned would've never hired a dancing master for arya if jon hadn't given her needle first. so i think that bit of speculation is very convincing, that the memory of jon will stop arya from becoming no one. she knows there is at least one person waiting for her who has and always will accept her as she is.