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traveler-at-heart · 8 months

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Game, Set, Match

Summary: Natasha Romanoff is a professional tennis player, struggling to go back to the top and win the US Open. Reluctant at first, she allows a sports journalist into her life... and a bit more.

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!R - Ya know it, fluffy af.

A/N: I love tennis and this was basically written for me. But @canvascoloredin is also a fan and thought, ok well, let's post it, maybe someone else will enjoy :)

“Thirty all”

She’s catching up, do something.

“Forty, thirty”

“Deuce”

“Come on, Natasha” her sister yells from the box.

Advantage, Romanoff.

Game, set, match. Natasha Romanoff.

Everything that happens after is a blur. Natasha feels like she just played the final, but in reality, it’s just the first round.

“Way to go, darling” her mother compliments when she’s back in the locker rooms, but Fury is quickly behind, not holding back.

“Three sets against an amateur and you won because she got nervous and got a double fault. That’s not good”

“I beat her, didn’t I?” Natasha averts her eyes, putting on her jacket to go to the press room.

“Barely” her trainer mumbles.

Natasha’s heart beats fast as she sits in front of all the journalists. They were warned about the questions they could ask, but still. Natasha feels all eyes on her, judging her reaction and demeanor.

“Did you worry about losing control at the start of the third set?” a man in the front row asks.

“It was the defining moment of the game, so I felt like I had to push myself harder and control the rhythm of the match. Which obviously happened”

“How was it to go back after your break? Unlike other players, you didn’t participate in any tournaments between Wimbledon and this”

“I’ve been playing tennis all my life, really, so it doesn’t feel like a big deal to me. Just because I wasn’t playing to win titles doesn’t mean I didn’t train”

Natasha hears Fury cough and has to resist the urge to roll her eyes.

Control your temper, he’s trying to say.

Well, maybe they shouldn’t ask stupid questions.

You’re sitting in the middle of the press room, eyes trained on Natasha. She’s looking anywhere but you.

I guess this means she read my column.

The conference is coming to an end, so you raise your hand and the assistant points at you.

“We have time for one more” he concedes.

“That’s enough for today” Natasha shuts it down before you can ask.

Yeah, she definitely read the article.

Natasha can’t wait to get out of there, thanking the press before sprinting out of the room. You consider following her, but a text from your boss stops you.

Go to LA Stadium, Wanda Maximoff just bageled some poor girl.

With a bit of luck, you’ll get an exclusive with Wanda.

The biggest crime of Shostakov

It was a Tuesday afternoon, well into the second week of Wimbledon, when the news broke out. Alexei Shostakov, retired tennis player, was arrested for fraud and tax evasion. While in custody, it was discovered Shostakov was in possession of drugs.

The famous Red Guardian, who once had won on that very same club, was now dragged away in a patrol car, stripped of his days of glory. For people who are well versed in the history of tennis, this doesn’t come as a complete shock. Shostakov was a notorious trouble maker, often breaking rackets, ripping his shirts open and getting expelled from a total of 15 matches during the entire run of his career.

No one seemed more affected by the news than his protegee and adoptive daughter, Natasha Romanoff. The favorite to win the world’s most important Grand Slam retired amid the breaking news. As a result, Wanda Maximoff’s path to the trophy was an easy one, taking the number 1 from Romanoff while she was at it.

If her career depends on Alexei’s ability to get back on his feet, Natasha Romanoff should retire now.

In her best form, Romanoff is stealthy, precise and absolutely lethal. Her movements reminisce those of a ballerina; one that gracefully dances across the court -doesn’t matter if it’s grass, clay or hard- to deliver blow after blow of brilliance. Natasha has raw talent, pure heart and an unbreakable spirit.

The biggest crime of Shostakov, is that he’s in the way of her greatness. Maybe it’s his ego or a compulsion to attach himself to a woman who has the capacity to break every record from the Open Era.

Whatever the reason, it’s clear she’s better off without him. For those of us who love this sport, and want Natasha to be the champion she was meant to be, this is an unique opportunity to watch her finally emerge from the shadows of the overbearing man.

The proverbial ball is in Romanoff’s court. In all her brilliance, the one thing Natasha rarely does is take risks.

It’s never too late to start.

“We’re finishing the second day of the US Open and we have some major upsets. Carol Danvers, number 3 in the world and only American in the top ten lost to Brit Peggy Carter” you say, holding the mic and looking at the camera.

“I understand there was some excitement on the man’s singles” you hear Maria say on your earpiece and you nod.

“Queens had a face off with Brooklyn today. Bucky Barnes defeated amateur Peter Parker, but get this! They played five sets, and Peter won every tiebreak. So it seems like we have some exciting new talent”

“We’ll keep an eye on him, for sure. Thanks for the report, Y/N!”

“A pleasure as usual, Maria. Greetings to everyone back on the studio”

“And cut” Darcy, your producer says. You remove the earpiece and hand over the mic. As you turn around, you spot Natasha training. It’s obvious you’re staring when Darcy speaks.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, you know? You wrote what a lot of people were thinking”

“Well, seems like she doesn’t wanna hear it”

“It’s fine. I mean, it would be better if we could get a quote from her or an interview but if she hates you that much we can get someone else to do it”

“Or, I could go and try to talk to her?”

“So you have a death wish!”

“Didn’t you just say I did nothing wrong?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean she’ll listen. I am also legally obligated to tell you that your health insurance doesn’t cover injuries caused by tennis balls. Or rackets”

“Very funny”

“Relax your wrist” Fury instructs once again and Natasha ignores him, as usual.

She hates the press, the interviews, the hoops she has to jump through just so she can play tennis.

None of it is optional and she has to follow the rules, something Natasha is particularly bad at.

“If you want to move to the next round you’re gonna have to listen to me”

Does she really want to move to the next round? Is there a point to all of this? She had lost her number one ranking and people were focusing more on her private life than her career.

Fury spots you across the court and smiles.

You nod your head towards the man and he sighs, defeated.

“Can you talk some sense into her?”

“Can anyone?” you say and he pats you on the back, leaving the court. The sun is setting and people are going home, ready to return tomorrow to watch the next round of players. You greet Natasha but she ignores you.

“You owe me a question” you try to joke, as she keeps hitting the ball so hard you think her racket will break in half.

“I know who you are and I’m not talking to you”

She looks hot when she’s pissed.

You push those thoughts away.

“Natasha”

“No, you and I are not on a first name basis. Not after you wrote all that crap about me without knowing me”

“I only spoke the truth”

“That my career is doomed and I should retire?” she finally stops throwing balls across the court and turns to look at you.

“Oh, my God! You didn’t even read it, did you?”

“I don’t need to. I know what everyone's been saying ever since Alexei was arrested. I know he was unconventional, but he was my trainer. He was beside me through the good and bad”

“I get it, ok? He’s your family. And your trainer. That’s never easy and I understand how it can be hard to see things objectively. But, Natasha, you are great in spite of him, not because of him”

That makes her pause.

“Nick Fury came out of retirement to train you. That’s how talented you are!”

The redhead serves a couple of times, staying completely silent.

“I’m not talking to you” she reminds you.

“You’re the best player out there, Natasha. And right now you’re the only thing getting in the way of your success”

Morning comes and so does the next match. Natasha is looking out the window of the suite, as people come and go around the busy streets of the tennis center.

Fury steps in, immediately aware of her nervous energy. If he asks if she’s ready, she’ll probably rip his head off. So, talking about something different might be the way to go.

“Her father was also a sports journalist,” he says, pouring himself a glass of orange juice.

“Who?”

“Y/N. Richard was a single parent, so he’d always bring her to the games, even as a baby. She behaved better than most people too”

“Is he retired?”

“Nope. Cancer. Four years ago” Fury sits in front of Natasha. “Didn’t expect her to follow his steps, but that girl really knows sports. She’s working with the local station, and also writes for Sports Illustrated”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Never hurts to have a couple of friends around,” he says, sipping from his glass.

“I’m not good at making friends” Natasha looks away.

“Yeah, I know. You’re good at tennis, so…” the man checks his watch and stands up. “Let’s kick some ass”

Natasha has to face Kate Bishop, currently ranked 24. Her game is the opposite of aggressive, but she’s famous for her impeccable aim. Natasha has to control the game from the start if she wants to win.

She serves first, and as she bounces the ball, preparing her stance, Fury’s words echo in her head. All the advice he has given her for the past months, advice that she has consistently ignored.

Then, as she throws the ball, her eyes meet yours. You’re sitting in the front row, leaning forward.

In a split second, she makes a decision.

Natasha is ready to take risks.

She aims for the corner of the service box, hoping it will fall inside. Kate lunges forward, shocked at the speed of the ball.

“Ace” the umpire announces. “Fifteen love”

Natasha sees you clapping and can hear Fury shouting “That’s it, you can do this, Romanoff”

And boy, does she deliver. Kate is running across the court. Natasha’s unforced errors are incredibly low. While the crowd usually loves long games, the redhead is a legend and they’re excited to see her prowess first hand.

The game ends in 47 minutes, 6-3, 6-2.

Kate approaches the net and shakes Natasha’s hand.

“That was… incredible, Romanoff”

“Thank you, Kate”

The kind words and the genuine admiration make Natasha relax instantly.

Of course, the crowd goes wild as the redhead lifts her arms, clapping and waving.

She’s in such a good mood that she decides she’ll finally take your question. But as she enters the press room, you’re nowhere to be found.

Still, she chats and even jokes around with the journalists present.

Once again, the entire family celebrates as if Natasha had already won the Grand Slam.

“Seestra, the crowd was going craaaazy, it was like a Taylor Swift concert” Yelena tells her excitedly as they eat. Natasha’s starving, so nervous about today that she didn’t even have breakfast.

They keep chatting, talking about strategy for the next game and wondering who will go against Natasha next.

“Natalia, your father wants to talk to you” Melina interrupts, holding her phone.

“Why?” Natasha snaps, going back to her stoic self.

“He wants to congratulate you,” the woman insists.

“I’m not in the mood. Excuse me” she stands up, losing her appetite.

Out on the terrace, she watches people passing by, trying to think of anything else but Alexei.

Your words come back to her, and she starts to believe them.

You are great in spite of him.

“Hey, there you are!” you shout from the bottom of the stairs, waving. “Do you have a sec?”

Natasha nods, going down.

“First of all, wow. Brava”

“You wanted something?” she rolls her eyes, but you notice she blushes lightly.

It’s quite the view, Natasha’s body covered in sweat from the physical exertion, her sculpted arms in full display.

That tennis outfit looks really good on her.

“Oh.. yeah. Do you, uh, have time to meet a fan? She’s a little girl and you’re her favorite player”

“Of course”

“Awesome, come with me!” you take her by the hand.

Natasha tries to ignore the tingling feeling she gets as she’s dragged around the center. Some people recognise her, but you’re walking fast and they don’t have the chance to stop her for a picture.

“Hey, Ava!” you greet the little girl, who’s holding a big tennis ball and a black marker. “Natasha, meet Ava. She’s your number one fan”

“Hi,” the girl says shyly. She’s about nine, her mother standing next to her and smiling.

“Hi, Ava. It’s so nice to meet you” Natasha greets. “How are you liking the tournament so far?”

“Uh, it was great, and you were so awesome today!”

“Thank you, I really appreciate it. Would you like me to sign that?”

“Yes, please!” her arms shoot forward, anxiously.

“What other players would you like to meet?” Natasha says, as she signs the ball.

“Maybe Peter Parker… We met Carol Danvers, Bucky Barnes and also, Wanda”

Yeah, Natasha didn’t miss the way Maximoff signed the ball.

From the number 1 player to the number 1 fan.

So pretentious.

“That’s nice,” Natasha says, handing the ball back.

“Alright, let’s take a picture” you pull out your phone. Natasha kneels to be closer to Ava, and then places her tennis hat on the girl’s head.

“You can have it” Natasha smiles and is surprised when she gets a very enthusiastic hug. Her mother has to practically drag her away from where you’re standing, Ava turning around every couple of steps to wave at Natasha.

“Thank you, Nat,” you say, smiling.

“It’s not a problem. I didn’t see you in today’s press conference”

“That’s because it’s my day off” you say, surprised that she noticed your absence.

“What about that thing?” she points at the badge hanging from your neck that reads Press.

“That’s how I get in for free, duh”

“Sneaky”

“I can be” you shrug your shoulders and then turn back to your phone. “Hey, so can I send this to your PR team for them to post it?”

“You don’t have to”

“Fine, I’ll post it on my feed and tag you. Alright, gotta go. Have to cheer for Bucky” you say, taking her hand one last time. “Once again, thank you. And congrats. You were fantastic”

“I owe you a question” she calls when you’re walking away.

“I’m saving it for when you win the championship” you wink and she smiles, scratching the side of her neck nervously.

Later that day, her phone is blasting with notifications.

“Almost one million likes, Natasha” Yelena shows her the picture you uploaded of her and Ava.

“Is that good or bad?” the redhead shrugs her shoulders and her sister rolls her eyes.

“You’re so uncool!”

However, she knows enough about Instagram to find your profile, going through your feed. Most of the pictures are from different games, some hangout with friends, the most frequent ones being Barnes and a pro that plays for the Yankees, Sam Wilson.

She’s about to close the app when two things that are equally horrible happen.

First, she likes one of your pictures from two years ago.

Second, she gets a message.

OfficialWandaMaximoff: Congrats on your win today <3

Bucky just lost the second set and is down on the third one. You keep refreshing the feed as you wait next to other journalists for Wanda Maximoff.

Of course she’s in the quarter finals, that’s hardly a shock. Everyone’s waiting for her to face Natasha in the finals. When it happens, you’re obviously rooting for Nat.

Speaking of which…

@SportsBrooklyn: Good luck tomorrow!

@NatashaROfficial followed you back

@NatashaROfficial: Do you only use Instagram or can you text like a normal person?

@SportsBrooklyn: Oh, right, text you to the number I don’t have!

Wanda walks in that moment and you lock your phone. Her auburn hair is tied in a high ponytail, and she changed to her signature red windbreaker and black pants.

You’re busy taking notes when your phone pings again. To your surprise, Natasha actually gave you her phone number.

@NatashaROfficial: If you share it with anyone else I’ll choke you

@SportsBrooklyn: Kinky ;)

The press conference ends and you practically sprint out to see if you can catch the rest of Bucky’s game.

You have to settle for the screens on the Champions Bar, comforted by the fact that Bucky seems to be ahead on the third set. As soon as he wins it, you stand up, knowing the break is the perfect time to slip into the player’s box.

“I’m so sorry” you say as you crash into none other than Wanda Maximoff. She grabs your arm to steady herself, smiling to ease you.

“That’s alright. You’re in a hurry?” she says, turning at the screen.

“A bit, yeah”

“I wish someone as cute as you was rooting for me” she smiles, placing a strand of hair behind her ear. She’s flirting? Oh boy. “I noticed you looking at your phone during the press conference. Barnes is a lucky guy”

“Oh, we’re not…”

“Here I was thinking he was smarter than that”

There’s a sense of urgency to go before the break is over, but you’re also completely confused. Why is Wanda Maximoff taking an interest in a local reporter? You’re vaguely aware that her eyes drift somewhere behind you from time to time, but before you can turn and have a look, she pulls your press badge and smiles.

“If you ever want an exclusive, just let me know, Y/N…” she reads the name from your press badge and walks away, leaving you completely confused.

Natasha watches the entire interaction from her small table. She needed a break so she decided to put on a hat and glasses, to get a drink without being recognised.

Wanda was all over you, giggling and looking Natasha’s way as much as she could, to let her know this was entirely to upset her.

All Natasha wanted to do was stand up and take you away from Wanda. You were too good for someone like Maximoff.

Wanda thought she was making Natasha jealous.

She was right, but not in the way she would have wanted to.

“Maybe it’s time I retire”

“You’re 28”

“Might as well be 100 in tennis years”

“Buck” you nudge him.

You’re looking out the Brooklyn Bridge, trying to cheer up your best friend after losing in the round of 16.

“You won the Australian Open this year”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that. See? I’m senile” he mumbles, still grumpy.

“You did great, and you’re still in the top five, Grumpa. Ha! See what I did there?” he rolls his eyes and you smile, pulling him back to the street. “Come on, Sam is waiting for us to have some lunch”

“Ok, but it’s on you because I’ll be broke once I retire”

“Yeah, yeah” you roll your eyes, looping your arms together and dragging him to your favorite dinner. Sam’s already there, chatting around with everyone that recognises him.

All eyes turn to you as he stands up and practically shouts.

“How’s my favorite girl?” Sam greets you and then slaps Bucky’s shoulder. “Don’t make that face, man. You won the aussie one”

“That’s what I told him”

Bucky takes his jacket off and orders a beer as soon as the waiter approaches you; even if it’s only noon, you let it slide.

You get a text from Darcy, asking if you’re watching the game.

Your mind instantly goes to Natasha. Did she lose? No, that can’t be. She was playing against Van Dyne, who was only there because of a wild card. You turn to one of the screens and ask the waiter to change the channel.

“She’s winning” you say, still not understanding what Darcy meant.

“Why does she look so upset, then?” Sam points out.

Natasha is arguing with the umpire. You recognise him immediately.

“I hate that guy,” Bucky says, echoing your thoughts.

“Jarvis… something. Stone?”

“Yeah, a total asshole. Wouldn’t give me a point I clearly won on Wimbledon because the other player was also a Brit”

The argument ends and she keeps playing. Her forehand is killer today.

“Wow” Bucky says at the same time as you gasp.

“Man, I feel so dumb right now” Sam is looking between both of you, not knowing what caused your reaction.

“Just now? It’s more like, always” Bucky teases and Sam glares. He rolls his eyes and points at the screen. “Van Dyne hit after a double bounce. That’s not allowed. But Stone clearly doesn’t give a shit. He’s giving her the point”

“Natasha stopped playing because she saw it. He claims he didn’t so in his mind, she lost this one” you keep explaining.

“If Hope had a little bit of integrity, she’d concede the point or play it again”

“Well, she’s losing so she’ll take all the help she can get” you say.

Natasha’s rage fuels her after this and she ends up winning, the second set a devastating 6-0.

However, the two men on the screen are being unsurprisingly critical of her. Your stomach turns when you hear the words “emotional” and “aggressive” thrown around.

Even if it’s a long shot, you try calling her. Phone’s off.

If you’re lucky, you’ll manage to see her once you get back to the stadium.

“Turn it off,” Natasha grumbles. Fury is watching the news in the living room.

“I wanna see the highlights of other players. Prepare for what’s coming next. If you don’t like it, leave the room” he says with a dismissive wave of his hand.

After the game, Natasha did the mandatory press conference, went back to the lockers, destroyed two rackets, took a shower and then looked out the window for the better part of the day.

She wasn’t in the mood to do anything and she didn’t want to turn on her phone. The temptation to read what the press and public had to say about her after today’s argument with the umpire was too big.

“Y/N, how are things at the US Open?” Maria Hill says. The screen splits, your image appearing on the right side.

“Exciting names on both sides for the semis. We have Thor against Banner, and T'Challa faces Namor for a spot in the semis. As for the ladies, Maximoff breezed through the match against Jean Gray”

“Well, I understand Romanoff didn’t have it so easy,” Maria says.

From her seat, Natasha holds her breath. Yelena walks in at that exact moment, watching her sister closely.

“You know, I find it unbelievable that an umpire at the US Open could make such a poor call, not once but twice. First, with the hindrance call against Natasha and then by completely ignoring the double bounce before Van Dyne hit the ball” you say, clearly upset. “We’ve seen time and time again that some umpires are not up to the standards set by Grand Slams. And to my fellow journalists who like to throw around words like emotional, better save that energy for the men that smash their rackets just because they lost a point. As we all saw, Romanoff was in her right to demand fairness and she did it with the utmost respect”

“Yes, I completely agree with you” Maria nods, clearly regretting even asking about it. “Well, let us chat tomorrow after we have the final for the men”

“Of course, Maria,” you nod.

Natasha tries really hard, but she can’t help but smile at your words.

Yelena arches her eyebrows.

Well, this is interesting.

Natasha refuses to leave her room, arguing she’s not hungry. Melina, Yelena and Fury leave her alone, but the sudden silence becomes too much. There’s no noise to stop her thoughts from spiraling.

With a sigh, she turns on her phone. Two messages come through.

Y/N: Sorry about today. That umpire sucks :(

Y/N: Bucky hates him too

Next thing she sees is a picture of Bucky and you holding your middle fingers to the screen with Jarvis’ face. Natasha chuckles at that.

She also zooms in, checking that your other hand is very close to Bucky’s. She feels a pang of jealousy that is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Room service” a strange voice says.

“I didn’t order any..:” she says, but finds you smiling on the other side of the door.

“Gotcha”

“What are you doing here?” the redhead can’t help but smile. You’re wearing a black leather jacket, a white tee and skin tight jeans. She’s torn between admiring your figure and paying attention to what you say next.

“Little bird told me you were very upset and you might need a distraction”

“I’m gonna kill Fury”

“Not Nick. Your sister. And are we gonna find something to eat by standing here or…?”

“I’m not hungry”

“We’re going, Natasha. Go get changed” you push past her, tired of waiting around in the hallway. She’s taken aback by your forwardness. Her mother and sister would usually let her get away with anything.

“Where are we going?” she asks, hoping you won’t go all the way to her room and pick an outfit for her.

“Something casual will do”

She changes as fast as she can, taking her phone and some money with her. You nod approvingly and then open the door, peeking around the hallway.

“This little field trip is not Fury approved so let’s be discreet about it” you inform her, taking her hand to lead the way to the elevator.

“Oh, yeah, this is super discreet” Natasha complains as you lead her to an electrical carriage.

“Have a little fun, why don’t you?” you climb up, offering your hand. She takes and sits next to you. Natasha resists the urge to put a strand of hair behind your ear as you lean forward to give the address.

You feel her eyes on you, so you turn back, smiling and blushing lightly.

It’s a short ride, and soon after you enter a small diner.

“Hey, Y/N” the owner greets you. “My, this must be a special occasion” she leans towards Natasha and whispers. “She’s never brought a girl over”

“Ok, Pat! Natasha is just a friend” you clarify, blushing in the process. Natasha laughs at you.

“Why? She’s pretty. You need to start dating” Pat says, leaving two menus.

“Don’t bother” you stop Natasha as she starts reading it. “She’ll bring us whatever she wants. But it will be worth it, I promise”

“Do you come here often?”

“My dad couldn’t cook if his life depended on it. But he was always good at finding the best spots to eat. So we came here all the time during the US Open and then later when Bucky started training”

Natasha nods and looks away.

“So, you’re not dating Barnes either?” she says, looking anywhere but you. It’s embarrassing how much she cares.

“Uh.. no. He’s like a brother to me. His parents worked a lot so he’d tag along to games with us, and we grew up together” you wait until she turns to look at you. “Can I ask now?”

“Is this off the record?”

“Do you see my press badge anywhere?”

“One never knows with you people”

“Ouch, Natasha” the redhead laughs but you ask anyway. “Are you dating anyone? You’ve never been public about it”

“I’m not, no. I just don’t think I’d be able to find the balance. Between tennis and a partner. And my public and private life”

“Fair enough” you say. Pat approaches with milkshakes, cheeseburgers and fries.

“I hope you girls are hungry”

“Starving”

“Fury’s gonna kill me” Natasha sighs, but then dips a fry in the milkshake and practically moans at the taste.

Your mouth is hanging wide open, and your teeth clash at how fast you shut it when Natasha turns to you.

“You’re right, this is worth it”

The rest of the night is spent eating and talking about everything but tennis. You learn that Natasha likes to bake in her free time, and that Yelena is taking a sabbatical before moving to New York to study at NYU.

After finishing your food, you both agree that walking back will be the best idea.

“I’m so full” you complain as you enter through the back, too scared to be caught by Fury. Natasha walks in the opposite direction of the foyer. “Uh, what are you doing? I don’t want your coach all over my ass if you’re missing”

“Have a little fun, why don’t you?” she echoes your words from before and you have no choice but to follow her. You end up on a tennis court, balls scattered around the floor.

“Do you practice here?”

“If I can’t sleep” Natasha picks up a ball and a racket and hands it to you.

“Can I help you?”

“Play with me”

“I can’t even serve, Natasha”

“Well, would you like to learn?” she says with a smirk and you can’t resist it.

“Fine. But after that, you go back to your room”

“Stance first” Natasha instructs. She corrects your posture and movements a couple of times, inching closer until she’s whispering instructions in your ear. The last thing she does is put her hands over yours to make sure your grip is tight. “Show me what you got”

She steps away and you miss her presence instantly. Trying to remember everything she told you, you toss the ball in the air and swing a little too hard. You trip over your own feet, but Natasha moves forward and catches you before you fall.

“You ok?” she says and you nod.

“How did I do, coach?” you steady yourself, holding her close to you. Your eyes travel to her lips, and you’re both out of breath from laughing.

Neither one can tell who leans first, but the fact is that you do and you discover, with great pleasure and no surprise, that Natasha is an excellent kisser. Her lips are soft against yours and she pulls you closer by your waist.

“Is this a new way of interviewing people, Y/L/N?”

Oh, shit.

You break apart and turn to Fury, who looks very much not impressed.

“The only cardio you’re allowed to do until this slam is over is at the gym, Romanoff. Back to your room, now”

“I’m not a little girl you can boss around,” Natasha protests.

“Come on, you should rest. We’ll talk later” you don’t want her to start arguing with Fury, not now that she’s finally listening to him. Natasha turns to you and nods, squeezing your hand one last time before going back to the hotel.

“I don’t want her distracted,” Fury says and you nod.

“I wasn’t trying to… I won’t get in her way, Nick. I want her to win”

“Glad we understand each other. Now go home”

He turns to leave and you wait for a little bit, trying to calm down after a mindblowing kiss. As you’re about to leave, you spot a yellow bracelet on the ground. You’ve seen Natasha wearing one before, but you’re too scared of Fury to go back now.

Tomorrow will be a new day for all of you.

“Keep your leg behind the ball” Fury instructs. Natasha has been listening to every single thing he says.

Yes, she’s nervous about the semis. And Fury’s the only one that can understand the feeling or help her play better.

“I want you focused,” he says as she walks to dry her hands.

“I am”

“You know what I mean” he says and as if on cue, you walk up to the court, waving. Natasha places the racket down and approaches you. “Practice isn’t over, Romanoff!”

“Five minutes” she asks, meeting you on the edge of the court.

“Hi”

“Hi” she says back. Her eyes go down to your lips and your heart flutters.

“Uh, you left… I think this is yours” you remember to speak, showing the yellow bracelet.

“Yes, thank you. Do you mind?” Natasha extends her hand and you put it around her wrist. “Yelena gave it to me before my first match. It’s my lucky charm”

“Well, good thing I saw it”

“Maybe you’ll be my next lucky charm”

“Oh? Am I supposed to be at every game from now on?” you smile, nodding when you’re done with the bracelet.

“I really wanna kiss you” Natasha blurts out and you blush. “But…”

“There are people watching and Fury doesn’t look happy either”

“He never does. Can I call you later?”

“Yes, you definitely can”

You want to kiss her so bad, damn it.

“Come on, go back, before Fury kicks me out of the court”

Natasha nods, squeezing your hand gently.

The way Natasha looks at you makes you all kinds of flustered, so you leave in a hurry before your desire takes over and you end up kissing her in front of all these people.

Once again, you run into Wanda Maximoff, only this time she doesn’t smile at all.

“She’s quite the player, right?” she says with a cold voice, her accent a bit thicker.

“Uh- yes. Natasha is a very talented pro”

“Oh, that’s not what I meant” she takes a step forward and looks you up and down. “Natasha likes to fuck around. But she always comes back to me”

“You’re… together?” your heart drops. Natasha wouldn’t lie to you about this.

Would she?

“Look, of course she wants to get distracted and she’ll use anyone that is dumb enough to fall for it. But don’t forget, she and I have history. And that’s stronger than whatever it is you think you have with Natasha”

No one is around to save you from this horrible conversation. You don’t want to argue with Wanda, because you’re still a journalist and it’s your job to be on the players’ good side.

But the reckless part of you wants to tell her to fuck off.

You sigh and look down. Wanda takes this as a sign of defeat and smiles, leaving you standing there.

It takes a minute for you to snap out of it, and you look around, desperate to walk away from everything that just happened.

—

“You’re seriously telling me you know nothing?” you ask Bucky for the tenth time.

“I don’t pay attention to rumors” he shrugs his shoulders, and you roll your eyes at him.

He’s sitting on your couch, the movie long forgotten. You nudge him with your foot and glare.

“Your best friend is a journalist, you should know better. You’re my insider into this crap”

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I’m just not on the loop of who dates who on the women’s side. But I am not surprised Wanda scared you. Heard she can be batshit crazy”

“She didn’t scare me” you mumble. The both of you sit in silence for a while, until your phones ping simultaneuosly.

Thankfully, it’s not Nat. Right now, you don’t even know what to say to her.

“Sam. Probably to brag about his date in that fancy restaurant” Bucky tells you, but his eyes widen as he reads the message. “Wow. You need to look at this”

He hands you the phone and you read the conversation. It’s your group chat and Sam just sent a picture of Jarvis Stone, who is having dinner with none other than Wanda Maximoff.

“What the actual fu…”

“So that’s why he was being a dick to Natasha” Bucky says. “You’re not telling her about this, are you?”

“No, of course not. She has the semis tomorrow and I don’t want to distract her”

You look at your phone and press send before you chicken out.

Y/N: Can we talk tomorrow?

YBelova: Sure

—

You’re waiting by the entrance to Arthur Ashe, looking around. Even if Maximoff’s match is later, you are still dreading to spot Wanda.

“Hey” Yelena says and you jump like a coward. “Wow, relax, it’s me”

“I’m sorry to be meeting you like this. I didn’t want to bother Natasha, especially today… she has enough on her plate”

“It’s ok, you can trust me”

“I know I can… it’s not easy to ask this, but do you know if Wanda and Natasha had a… thing? Like a relationship”

“Are you asking as a journalist?” the blonde says, clearly on edge.

“No, it’s not like that! Natasha and I… we kissed. And then Wanda told me yesterday that Natasha is just fooling around because she always comes back to her… and that’s weird but then a friend sent me this. It’s from last night”

“That’s the umpire that was a jerk to Tasha” Yelena takes your phone, looking at it in desbelief. “That bitch is still pulling this shit”

“If it had been only about us, I would have waited until Natasha finished her match. But it seems to me, like Wanda is trying to play dirty here”

Yelena sighs and hands the phone back. She looks around and steps closer, lowering her voice.

“Yes, they dated. Kept it a secret. It was on and off, especially when they were playing against each other. Wanda didn’t like to lose and then, after a while, she began to mess around with Nat. She would have a fight with her before a big match, even if they weren’t playing each other. Made Natasha lose her cool and struggle. They really haven’t spoken since the AO”

“What do we do? I don’t want her to mess with Natasha. I won’t let Wanda get in her way”

“I’ll speak to Fury about this. He knows everything. I’ll let you know what he says”

“Didn’t know you two were friends now”

A voice calls from behind you.

“Seestra, hey!” Yelena steps forward to give you time to recover. “Y/N was just telling me about her time at NYU”

“Is that so?” the redhead looks between you two and you nod.

She stills makes you nervous and flustered.

“Alright, my presence is no longer required” Yelena complains, but still gives you a meaningful look as she walks away.

“I have to warm up, will you stay for the game?” she asks, stepping closer.

“Yes, of course I will. I’ll be screaming your name” you blurt out and then blush. “I mean, rooting for you. Didn’t mean it to sound like that”

“Sounds good to me” she says, coming closer. “Can I have a good luck kiss?”

You look at her smile, her beautiful green eyes. Think about all the times she’s been kind and funny and brave. And you also think about how someone played with her heart just for a stupid title.

So you nod and lean forward, kissing her gently.

Natasha deserves to win, not only because she’s the better player. She’s the better person.

“Go win this thing” you say against her lips and she smiles, pecking your lips one last time.

—

Natasha’s win is not a surprise to you, considering the level of her recent games. You still have to stick around for the Maximoff match, opting to stay far away from the press room once she wins.

So, it’s down to the two of them in the final.

You’ve never wished for Natasha to win something so much until today.

Work keeps you busy enough. Both of the men’s semis take a combined time of eight hours and you end up completely exhausted, seriously considering just sleeping in one of the locker rooms.

You haven’t heard from Natasha but it’s understandable. She’s playing for the championship tomorrow, and knowing Fury, he will be preparing her in every way possible.

As you get a cup of coffee from one of the last stands open, your phone pings again.

Natasha: Are you still here?

Y/N: Yes :(

Natasha: Meet me in court 17?

Y/N: Yes :)

When you finally get there, you find Natasha serving a couple of times, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Is Fury ok with you staying up so late?”

“I did everything he said today. I think I deserve this one thing” she smiles, walking towards you. “You look a bit tired”

“Jeez, thanks”

“I didn’t mean it like that. Ugh, Yelena is right, I have no game off court”

You laugh at that, taking her hands in yours.

“It’s fine, I was just teasing you” you say, looking as her eyes drift towards your lips. You both lean forward, sharing a kiss.

“Thank you” Natasha says.

“Uh, you’re welcome?”

“I don’t mean the kiss, no. Thank you for telling Yelena that thing about… Wanda”

“Oh”

Natasha walks with you to one of the chairs and you sit together.

“I haven’t spoken to her in months. And I don’t want to be with her. I need you to know that”

“But still… you said you’re not sure you want a relationship, right? It would be too much trouble”

“I think it might be worth the effort for you” she confesses and you smile.

“You do have game”

“I do?”

“Tiny bit. We’ll work on it”

She laughs, and you sit in silence for a moment.

“I made my debut in this court”

“I know”

“How…?”

You sigh. Since you’re sharing stories…

“After my dad died, I kinda took distance from the things we did together. That included all kinds of sports. It was a painful reminder. And then, as the USO was starting, I realised he had already bought our tickets. So I came here, walked around a bit. And then I saw you”

Natasha smiles, squeezing your hand.

“Your hair was shorter, and you were wearing a weird orange top with green shorts” you frown as you remember how awful it looked.

“My mom chose it for me!” the redhead buries her face in her hands and you laugh. You take them in yours as you continue the story.

“You were amazing that day. Controlled, precise… I forgot for a little while about how sad I was. And after you won, I came back everyday to watch you play”

“Thank you for telling me that. I wish I could have known your father”

“I would have liked that too”

There’s silence as you both think about your own journies, the things that brought you to this moment.

“Come on, we should go. You need your rest” you stand up, offering your hand to Natasha. She thinks for a moment before taking it, but instead of standing up she pulls you down until you’re sitting on her lap, your legs around her.

“Nat?” you gulp, blushing at how close you are.

“Tell me to stop and I’ll stop” she whispers, kissing your neck and squeezing your ass.

“Holy shit, no, don’t stop” you plead, tangling your fingers in her red hair.

“Locker room?”

“Lead the way” you kiss her frantically, hoping no one sees you.

Once you arrive there, Natasha smiles and your heart stops for a second.

“Ready to scream my name?”

—

There’s warmth. And a nice pressure. Some tingling on your back. Like a soft touch.

You open your eyes in an unknown room, trying to remember where you are. As you turn around you find Natasha fast asleep, her arm around your middle.

“Nat?” you call for her, hoping no one walks in any time soon.

“Five more minutes” she mumbles against your skin.

“Nat, wake up” you plead.

As it turns out, she only reacts when Yelena kicks the door, walking in on you naked under the sheets.

“Happy finals day seestra—-ah! Naked”

“Yelena what is wrong?” to your horror, Melina joins her daughter. “Oh, you two lovebirds!”

“WHY DOESNT ANYONE KNOCK HERE” Natasha screams, putting the sheets above her head.

“Sorry” Melina says, dragging away Yelena.

“Yeah, sorry” Yelena echoes, sounding anything but.

As you both get dressed, the memories of last night come back to you.

After your rendezvous -and almost getting caught by security- you decided it would be better to continue elsewhere. You blush as images of Natasha moaning, kissing and pleasuring you also come back.

“Hey” she approaches you as you walk to the door. “You ok? You look a little…”

“Flustered?” you say, trying to hide your blush.

“Well, yes. I’m sorry about them walking in”

“Last night was… amazing”

“Yeah?” she circles your waist with her hands and pulls you closer. “How amazing?”

“Like winning all Grand Slams in the same year kind of amazing” your hands go around her neck and you pull her for a kiss.

“Wow, that’s big talk” Natasha comments agains your lips. And as she’s about to kiss you, Fury walks in.

“Romanoff! What did I tell you about that cardio”

“For the love of God, knock!” Natasha says, defeated.

“Don’t worry, Fury, I promise she was laying down for the most part” you wink at the man.

“Stay for breakfast” Melina invites as she’s setting the suite’s table with all the room service.

“This has been sufficiently awkward, thank you. And I also imagine you have stuff to do”

“You need to stay hydrated. How much liquid did you lose?” Fury says, going around the kitchen like a headless chicken.

“Fury, I haven’t seen her this relaxed in months. My sister will be fine” Yelena comments.

“Are you coming to the game?”

“Of course. I’m on press duty”

“Come to the player’s box” Melina says.

“Would that be wise?” you ask and everyone shares a look. “What I mean is, we want to make Wanda think her plan worked, right? If she sees me there she’ll know we are on to her”

“I don’t care what she thinks. I want you there” Natasha takes your hand and you smile.

“Alright. I’ll be there. See you later” you kiss her cheek and smile.

“Byeee” Melina and Yelena say, and you realise that Natasha will have to deal with their questions.

Well, if she can deal with the press, she can deal with her family.

—

The day goes by in a blur, and as the match approaches, you feel more anxious. God, how does Natasha do this? If it were you with the world watching, you’d probably break down the minute you step into the court.

“Hello there” Yelena greets as you meet at the player’s entrance of Arthur Ashe. “Ever been here?”

“Just once, with Bucky”

It’s hard to forget the luxurious facilities where players can get food, special gifts, some physio or workout before their matches.

“He won last year, right?”

“Yes” you smile at the memory. “How is Natasha doing?”

“She’s done with warmup, she had something light to eat and she seems ready. She’s also been smiling like an idiot all day, even if Fury kept her away from her phone”

“I want her to win, so whatever it takes” you smile at the blonde, and follow her to the lounge, where Natasha is waiting with Melina. The redhead smiles as soon as she spots you and you kiss her on the cheek.

“How do you feel?”

“Like a complete wreck”

“You got this. Remember she prefers short games, she also doesn’t like to volley or come close to the net. And people say her forehand is killer but she goes too far behind her back, so use it against her”

“Y/N?” she interrupts your rambling. “All of that is fine advice, but I already have Nick on my back 24/7”

“Right, sorry”

“You know what he doesn’t provide?”

“Hm?”

“Good luck kisses”

“That’s right, it’s above my paygrade” Fury says. “Say your goodbyes now”

Melina and Yelena hug her, Fury squeezes her shoulder and then they give you some space.

“Go win this thing” you say, leaning forward and kissing her softly.

Natasha leans her forehead against yours and smiles.

She’s ready.

—

Natasha comes out first, and the crowd goes wild.

Wanda is close behind her; you catch her staring at you, clearly shocked that you’re next to Nat’s family.

“Who’s losing focus now?” Yelena says with a cheerful voice and you can’t help but smile.

The game begins and it is very clear that Natasha is playing aggressively. She has an ace on every game and there are hardly any break points for Wanda. It’s been 30 minutes and the score is 5-2.

“She’s cooked,” Fury says, looking at Wanda. You shake your head.

“Maximoff has an insane record after losing the first set, you know that”

And in fact, she does lose the first set. As always, the crowd loves to cheer on the underdog, so they go wild when Wanda wins the first two games of the second set.

“Come on, Tasha” you scream, and she looks your way, smiling. In no time, they’re tied.

“What are the odds on a tiebreak?” Yelena asks.

“It can go either way” you sigh, confirming that it will happen as they reach 6-6.

Natasha is playing fast and hard, giving no time for Wanda to recover.

But as she serves for the match, Wanda challenges the call in the most disruptive way possible.

It was in, but since Nat stopped playing the point goes to Wanda.

“That’s bullshit” Yelena says under her breath and you nod.

Sure enough, Natasha zones out and goes from match point to losing the second set.

“Dear Lord” Fury says, trying to keep a neutral expression.

“Maximoff looks exhausted, Nick. Natasha is doing great. She didn’t give away the second set. She’ll do this”

The third set begins, the first four games a close call. Deuce is called when they’re tied at 2, and you know that whoever wins this point will end up winning the match.

Every time Wanda has an advantage, Natasha comes back and breaks. Even when the Sokovian is serving, it doesn’t stop Natasha from pulling her back to 40-40. The Russian is a wall, and Wanda seems to lose hope as time passes.

And then, it happens.

Wanda has a double fault that gives Natasha the advantage. Followed by a double fault that gives her a break.

“Yes” Fury claps, trying to keep it together.

As the score approaches 5, your heart beats faster. Once again, 5-2.

Natasha serving for the match.

An ace.

The crowd goes wild.

The second ball goes out of the court when Wanda hits it.

Then, a double fault.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It’s 30-15 and then 30-30. All Natasha needs are two more points to win.

She searches for your face in the crowd and you smile, nodding.

“You’re going to win” you say and she smiles.

Another ace.

The screens show the “championship point” sign.

Wanda doesn’t make it easy for her. She’s like a wounded animal that has nothing to lose, so she runs, she answers every throw with a groan, she comes to the net.

But when Natasha does her signature dropshot, Wanda tries to run, reaches too late and the ball bounces one, two, three times.

“Game, set, match, Romanoff”

“Fuck, YEEES” Yelena screams, standing up and cheering.

It’s all a blur, Natasha falling to the ground and covering her face. Walking to the net to shake Wanda’s hand, and then the umpire’s.

After, she walks among the crowd, trying to reach her box. Yelena is the first to jump, their mother hugging them both and crying.

Fury looks like he’s about to cry as Natasha hugs him. You’re certainly crying happy tears as you watch them.

And then, she walks past him and picks you up from the ground, kissing you in front of the entire stadium.

“Congrats, Nat” you say against her lips.

“I’ll be right back” she promises when the security guard asks her to come back for the ceremony.

“You owe me a question”

“Save it for the next championship” she says against your lips and you kiss again, in spite of the guard’s insistence and with the crowd cheering you on.

—

It’s been six more slam titles, two years of tours around the world.

Natasha still owes you a question.

You’re saving it for a time when you’re both ready, and you’ll ask her to marry you.

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #Natasha Romanoff fic #Natasha Romanoff x you fluff

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brucewaynehater101 · 23 days

Note

So one of my favorite tropes is Jason or Dick going "mine now" and adopting every bat kid to come after them, and turning Bruce into a father in legality only, a reluctant grandfather in reality

See the endnotes of both "Dynamic" by Cant_Smoke_Eggs and " bystander" by greeneyedfirework

And also the Crimelord Tim-Never-Robins AU is making me tear up rn so I'm just gonna kindly take the ideas of that AU and the Carrion Crows and and shove them all into a blender to—

☆・★・・・★・☆

Tim Drake's parents are as awful as they are in the Never-Robin verse but here he—to put things horrifically lightly—convinces himself out of it

Oh yes, what you're describing is abuse and it's wrong! What did you say about his parents? They do everything he agrees is abuse? No! You misunderstand, they aren't abusive they're . . .

When Jason dies and Tim blackmails his way into Robinhood, into making sure his last remaining light in this world lives and stays as via shining as he always sees him, he get's a proper excuse

Not that he could ever tell others of course

But it's just what he personally needed

How could my parents ever be abusive? Batman hardly ever remarks about them and sometimes he even trains me more painfully then whenever my parents are back home!

☆・★・・・★・☆

Thus goes his life until he comes across a girl and her ward

Or maybe baby brother is more appropriate

Introducing Cassandra Cain, League of Assassin's renegade extraordanaire

And who does she have with her? It's only Damian al Ghul, blood son of Talia and Brucie!

Yeah, some time during or after Jason's departure from the League, Cassandra by sheer chance got in the same room as Damian

A fucking child which horrified her, so she snatched that kid and dipped

Damian telling her stories about his father and big brother both from Gotham gave her a clear direction of where to head

☆・★・・・★・☆

Not that they tell Tim this, they've hardly met him

They tell Robin silly! Damian in particular is insistent that the vigilante introduce him to his father as he is the blood son

Tim—wanting to help Batman since his plate is full—says it will take some time but he knows someone who can give a place to stay, they can trust his verified associate

Thus is how the two move into the Drake Manor with Timothy Drake full-time

It's nice, he accommodates for their needs and teaches them whatever they don't know

Cassandra quickly clues in—and informs the latter—on Tim and Robin being one & the same

When Cassandra confronts Tim about this, he does his best to calmly (are you sure about that young boy?) justify himself

He recounts the rise of Batman, of the first Robin turned Nightwing, and the Second Robin until his death

Batman's grief would descend into him transforming his vigilantism into a suicide mission

And Gotham? Gotham may be a horrifically corrupt city now, but before Batman it was hell on earth

It was already slipping back into there, what with lifelong hospital bills, disabilities, and job loss being indiscriminately handed out left and right

Though, Batman's rogues weren't facing the brunt of his rage nearly as much as most desperate criminals he came across, just trying to survive

Thus, to keep Gotham from tumbling back into the days before Batman, and to keep the hero from killing himself (because saying 'get himself killed' is dishonest) he blackmailed himself into the Robin role to act as Bat's leash and caretaker

He realized he may have miscalculated when Cassandra's knuckles go bone white

☆・★・・・★・☆

Cassandra had several moments where she has second-thoughts about bringing Damian to his father, and now they're solidifying

She subsequently informs said baby brother that "holy shit, you're father is a monster" with stories what she learns about him, albeit mildly omitting the nastier details she doesn't want Damian to know at his young age

Doesn't help when they both notice the injuries Tim doesn't even get on patrol but training and he has to go to Agent A or himself for medical aid

☆・★・・・★・☆

Tim Drake always saw himself an exception to justice. His parent love him and he has a duty to Batman

Whe his parents come home he tells them about his new friends staying over for some time

After working it out with the two, they even have their identities legalized and nobody will bat an eye at their presence with Tim

The Drakes come home and one moment he's introducing his parents to his friends

The next he's closing an incinerator room's doors with a lockpick

How . . . ?

☆・★・・・★・☆

during Tim's blackout, Janet and Jack made some classist and other comments towards Damian and Cassandra, and since their legal identities are of orphans, and went as far as to threaten abuse knowing they'd get away with it

That caused something in Tim to break and finally do his parents in

Upon realizing what he's done, Tim is going to be pretty hysterical and grieving and when Cass ask's what's up he immediately breaks down

☆・★・・・★・☆

So yeah, Tim has to hide his parent's death and speedrun becoming secret CEO until he can become one publicly

Step number one? Get Cassandra and Damian adopted by the late Drakes and insert them into their wills

Cassandra and Damian stick with Tim because they care for him, he's also single handedly providing for them, plus they don't want to test their luck with Batman at all

Damian is having an identity crisis because he was taught to take pride in his blood but his father who's been hella hyped up has brutalized his new big brother repeatedly

Maybe Tim stumbles across Stephanie and Duke, and gets them adopted too

Maybe we have a Jason with less of his screws loose and he walks up to Tim and is like "where are you parents" "they're totally alive!" "Holy shit you're an orphan actively distancing yourself from the batman because he abused you *adopts him as son*" or maybe Dick Grayson fathers instead, idk

Or maybe Jason here is still willing to pull a Titans Tower idk

My brain is melting lol

Holy hell. I love this AU. Tim adopting his other family members is near and dear to me. He has the means to and has canonically made up fake family members. He can totally throw someone into his family legally (and technically illegally).

Have you seen Damian Drake? This kind of reminds me of that fic, but with Cass in it and the Drakes dead. For this AU, it would be precious if Damian starts to take pride in Tim's last name instead. That, or they could create a new one for the 3 of them (until Dick, Jason, Duke, and others join [Steph is always weird cause she dated Tim. It's similar to how Babs isn't legally considered family/siblings, but she's still part of the family]).

Damian thus has legal to claim to both Drake Industries and Wayne Enterprises (if he ever chooses to disclose his relation to Bruce). The best part of this is that Tim is building a large family by stealing them all from Bruce (cause fuck that man).

Also, Cass and Damian should interact more in fanwork. I'm so glad that you have them as such in this. Similar to Steph and Damian, I don't see that relationship as much which is sad. They have such great sibling bonds.

Two more thoughts: One, I love the characterization of Tim stepping back into his body to find he had murdered his parents and just rolling with it (besides the mandatory breakdown). He just figures it out cause it is what it is. Two, how old is Tim in this? Does he immediately become CEO or try to pretend his parents are still alive?

I'm also imagining Tim just gathering all these people, and he's not necessarily their leader/boss, but he does provide for them. He guides them and supports them. He's like a family mafia boss, but without any command or orders. The others are free to do as they please, but they tend to run decisions against each other

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #damian wayne #dc au #cass wayne #thank you for the ask!!!!

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fangirlandtheories · 10 months

Text

Do you remember when we used to sing?

Eddie is away on tour while Steve is taking care of their daughter a few hours away. Too bad she can't fall asleep without her special bedtime song...

Steve’s brows pinched together as the cries grew in pitch and volume, almost drowning out the familiar click of ‘Hey it’s Eddie, call me back or don’t, I’m not your mother.’ from the speaker of his phone.

He had shifted from frustrated to desperate as he glanced over at their daughter, red faced and snot nosed. Bedtime was a solid hour past due and didn’t seem to be looming any closer.

“It’s okay, sweets, we’ll call him again.” Steve soothed as he ran a hand down the toddler’s back.

“Daddy!!!” She screamed again, choking with the effort of her sobs, as she squeezed her eyes shut. It had been love at first sight for Eddie and Steve when they had met Rayne’s mother. She was young, just turning 20 in the fall, with curly blonde hair and big brown eyes. She was looking for someone who wanted a baby that couldn’t naturally have their own and the agent connected the dots for them. After several months, little Rayne was theirs.

“I know,” Steve muttered as he pulled up Eddie’s contact again. Eddie had taken a break from touring after the adoption of their daughter but had recently started back up. It started off pretty well, the excitement of getting to have a Dad weekend with Steve pulling her through, but now the newness was gone and all little Rayne Munson-Harrington wanted was Eddie.

Eddie usually found weekend gigs but had found a week long slot in a club in St. Louis that promised great publicity and even better payment, so Corroded Coffin hit the road and Steve held down the fort with some help from Robin and Wayne. They were obligated to babysit, she was named after both of them afterall, and he was grateful because work had been taxing enough without adding a feisty 4 year old to the mix.

A flu bug was sweeping it’s way through Hawkin’s Elementary and it spared no casualties in Steve’s kindergarten classroom. He spent the day trying to keep the class from putting things in their mouths and making sure everyone washed their hands, sending a child or two home after seeing the greenish pale tints of nausea pass over their faces. He knew that he’d have to deal with kids puke at some point, especially as a parent, but he’d like to avoid it at all costs.

“Pick up your phone you ass.” He hissed through clenched teeth, rocking the inconsolable girl in his arms as he dialed again.

***

Eddie first felt the familiar jolt of vibration in his back pocket just after the first chorus. The second time was just a few verses later. He smiled into the microphone as he continued to sing, ignoring his phone. The third time was in the bridge of the song, a particularly terrible time to take a call as Eddie’s hands were preoccupied with his guitar. The fourth time happened in the final notes of the song. The fifth during the applause. Eddie frowned as he pulled the device from his pocket, ignoring a glare from Jeff.

“Hey guys, you won’t believe this but my husband is facetiming me right now. This is like the fifth time he’s called so I’m going to answer, everybody be quiet and let’s see how long it takes him to remember that we had a later show tonight.” Eddie laughed as the audience silenced quickly. Steve’s irritated yet grateful face popped up on the screen seconds later.

“Hey love…” He crooned with a cheeky smirk.

“Your daughter is very upset with you.” Steve ignored the affectionate nickname.

“Why is she my daughter whenever she’s mad?” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Is she alright?”

“She’s been screaming since 8:30 Eds.” Steve ran a hand through his hair and blew out an exasperated sigh. “She’s refusing to sleep until you do it, that’s why I’ve been calling.”

“Steve I’m um…” Eddie glanced nervously at the audience in front of him. “Kind of in the middle of something.”

“Yeah I wanted to be relaxing right now too but our kid needs her dad and since he’s five hours away the very least he could do is sing her the damn song so that we all can get some rest.” Steve squinted at him. “You’re being weirder than usual. Are the guys there with you?”

“Yeah the guys are definitely with me.” Eddie ignored Gareth’s snicker. “Can I call you-”

“Edward, so help me God, sing the song so that she can go to sleep.” Steve interrupted. “Look at her.” Steve turned the camera to the distraught little girl and Eddie’s heart clenched.

“Hi angel, I hear you’re a little sad.” He frowned in solidarity with her as her lip stuck out. “No, don't cry, it’s okay Ray Ray.” She howled louder, tears popping from her wet lashes. He winced as he lip quivered, his resolve wearing down to nothing. He glanced over at Gareth, leaning over to whisper to him before looking back to his phone.

“Alright fine, let’s sing it, yeah?” Eddie placated. “You’re breaking my heart Bambi.” The wide eyes and long lashes practically gifted the nickname to her. He glanced back at Gareth who gave him a thumbs up before looking at the audience. “Daddy’s band is going to help him sing it, is that okay?” Rayne whimpered as she nodded, snuggled into Steve’s arms as he held the phone in front of her.

“Wait, are you on stage right now?” Steve leaned forward. “Shit, I’m sorry babe, I didn’t mean to interrupt the performance.”

“You couldn’t interrupt if you tried.” Eddie smiled. “Isn’t that right?” Steve could hear cheers from the audience. “We love our rock and roll family here and we honor our traditions, most of all the bedtime song. Ready boys? Sing along if you know it, our most honored guest is in the audience tonight and would love to hear you guys.”

With that, Jeff played the opening notes on the guitar while Gareth tapped out the beat with the rarely used tambourine. The bass thumped along to Eddie’s singing, and though it admittedly wasn’t their usual style, the band loved Rayne like she was their niece and they would play anything to make her happy.

“-In the misty morning fog with our hearts a-thumping” Eddie held the microphone in one hand and the phone in the other, beaming at the smile on Steve’s face. “And you, my brown eyed girl.” Rayne giggled and clapped, tears still on her cheeks but sadness having finally passed.

***

Hours and miles away, Steve smiled as he shut the door to his daughter's bedroom, the nightlight softly glowing, as he hummed the song to himself. Tomorrow there would be a series of tweets about Eddie going soft and videos flying all around the internet, but for now, and for the first time that evening, the Munson-Harrington home was quiet.

#steddie #my writing #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things 4 #st4 #steve harrington x eddie munson #oc child character #modern au #rockstar eddie munson #kindergarten teacher Steve Harrington #fanfiction #ficlet #steddie fanfic #my first tumblr fic #please request #always taking requests

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strangersatellites · 1 year

Text

second installment of the eddie knows tarot-verse

decided to flesh out this post !! enjoy !! xoxo

part two is posted!!

edit: look at this AMAZING art by: @amethyst-crowns !

“What are these?”

Steve is gesturing to Eddie’s deck of tarot cards on top of his dresser.

Today has been just like every other Saturday has been for the past several months.

At the ungodly hour of nine a.m. Steve knocks on the trailer door to summon the boy out for their standing Saturday breakfast at the diner. After several cups of coffee and a rather mediocre stack of pancakes, they find themselves back at Eddie’s where the rest of the day is typically spent with Eddie strumming at his guitar and jotting down song lyrics and melodies while Steve entertains himself by either listening, interjecting with questions, or rummaging through Eddie’s things.

Today, he’s spotted Eddie’s deck.

Shifting in his spot on the floor he props his guitar against his bed and stands to walk to the dresser and retrieve the deck.

“I knew you were gonna ask that,” Eddie jokes as he pulls Steve to sit on the bed with him and starts shuffling with the cards.

Steve’s eyebrows furrow and he lets out a questioning hum making Eddie huff a laugh.

“They’re tarot cards,” he starts, dropping his voice low for dramatic effect. “Set aside your skepticism and allow the cards to tell you your fortune.”

Steve chuckles, “Don’t think I would call myself a skeptic, ya know, given the circumstances of the last several years of my life. But I’ll bite. What kind of future can they tell me, oh wise one?”

And see, as of late, Eddie has been working on not running away from things that scare him. Has been the reason he has run directly toward danger in situations severe enough to nearly cost his life.

Point is, one would think that by now he would know which scary things are hills worth dying on.

He doesn’t.

His big, fat crush on Steve Harrington clouds his judgment and drives his own morbid curiosity and self-destructive tendencies to have him saying, “Well, my favorite is the soulmate reading. Let's do that one, yeah?”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “They can tell me that?”

Eddie starts focusing his energy more intentionally on his card shuffling. Furrows his brows in an attempt to convey his seriousness.

“They can tell you anything, sweetheart.”

Decidedly dragging his eyes from the pretty flush covering Steve’s cheeks at the pet name, Eddie gives Steve a quick lesson in what he’s doing.

“So, basically, I just focus my energy-”

“Sounds dangerous.”

“Shush!”

Steve giggles.

“I focus my energy on communicating to the universe what I am asking the cards. So this time, I’m asking them to tell me about the soulmate of the great Steve Harrington.” He catches the card that jumps out of the deck and into his lap and places it face down between them. “And that, Stevie, is how we pull cards.”

Steve looks questioning but not dismissive. “So you pick the ones that fall out?”

Eddie scoffs as he pauses his rapid shuffling and pulls a rogue card from where it’s peeking out from the deck. “Ones that fall out. No, Steve! I pick the ones that speak to me.” He resumes his shuffling and is immediately gifted with another two cards spinning out between them both.

Lifting his hands in a gesture of innocence Steve mutters apologies as Eddie stacks his remaining cards and sets them to the side.

‘Okay, pretty boy. Last chance to back out before all is revealed,” Eddie whispers, lining up the four cards he pulled.

Its an out for Steve if he was just feigning interest, and it's a copout for Eddie. Eddie who is actively psyching himself up to face disappointment at the task of telling Steve allllll about his dream girl.

Steve shoves his shoulder. “Shut up and tell me about them.”

Before flipping the cards face up, Eddie points at each one and tells what it is going to represent based on the reading format he chose.

“Alright, this first card is going to be representative of how your soulmate views you. The next one tells you who they are and how this person comes into your life, and the last two are descriptors of your soulmate.”

Steve takes a breath and gives a resolute nod.

Eddie steels himself and flips the cards.

Freezes.

Instantly his mind is running a mile a minute, both in shock and what the fuck he is going to tell Steve.

Let it be said that Eddie is nothing if not quick on his feet. And Eddie Munson knows for a fact that Steve doesn’t know anything about tarot. What’s he going to do? Correct him?

He claps his hands together and plasters on his most predatory smile.

“Stevie, Stevie, Stevie,” he tuts. “Now this is no surprise,” he starts.

And you see, the best kinds of lies are ones that are based in truth. That’s the reason that Eddie taps a finger over The Magician and says, “Your soulmate sees you as a person of great power and influence. King Steve, if you will.”

True.

Steve bristles a bit but nods along.

Pointing at the next card, “The King of Cups,” Eddie tells him, “Now this, this is a good one. This one says you’re going to be a great boyfriend-”

Not quite true.

“- and that your soulmate is a new person in your life. You meet a new girl and not tell me, Stevie? I’m hurt.”

Steve laughs and runs a hand through his hair. “I mean, I don't think so, no. Haven’t really had much time since the apocalypse, ya know,”

Eddie’s brain short circuits a bit at the idea that he is the newest person Steve knows. Right.

He opts to press on. “Ah this is interesting. The reverse King of Swords. Well, typically this represents someone abrasive. Brash, even.”

True.

“But since it's reversed, it means the opposite,” he says.

Not true.

“She’s going to be gentle and kind. Aw. Isn’t that sweet, Stevie.”

Even the thought of it makes Eddie’s heart flip over and twist with discomfort. Despite the fact that he’s lying out of his ass.

Steve is getting really into it and picks up the last card himself. “What’s this one? The Tower.”

Eddie twirls a piece of his hair around his finger and thinks for a split second before responding with the first thing that comes to mind.

“It’s a landmark. It means you’ll meet her somewhere you’re familiar with. Maybe that farmer’s market you like to go to on Sunday’s! That seems like a good place to meet someone.”

Steve wrings his hands together and then takes Eddie’s notebook from the floor to jot down what he’s learned.

If Eddie wasn’t already trying valiantly to hold back his own impending panic he might find his enthusiasm cute. As it is, he’s experiencing the heavy feeling of dread settling low in his stomach of the realization of what this reading actually says.

The Magician actually says that Steve’s soulmate had to learn to use their intuition to get to know him. Had to look past his power and influence, his King Steve persona.

The reverse King of Swords actually says that it's someone abrasive and blunt. Someone who uses words as a weapon and easily finds themselves in harm's way.

The Tower actually says that this person comes close to chaos, destruction. Has had their life turned upside down. When pulled with the reverse King of Swords it implies that this person nearly fell victim to their own rash decisions.

If that wasn’t enough, it's the King of Cups that really put Eddie over the edge. Because it tells us that Steve’s soulmate is someone older than him who came into his life with a bang.

It also says it's a guy.

But Eddie just agrees with Steve’s request to join him on a trip to the farmer’s market tomorrow and puts his cards back on the dresser with a ringing static sound in his ears.

He’s content to join Steve on his quest to find his nice girl at the farmer’s market if it means he never has to tell him the truth.

That the cards said Steve’s soulmate was him.

_________________________________________________

It's Tuesday night and Eddie is nose-deep in some book Gareth recommended to him. Truth be told it's boring, but he’s reading it because his friend liked it. He can never say Eddie never did anything for him.

A firm knock on his door frame has his eyes shooting up.

Wayne is standing there, hands in his pockets. He nods Eddie’s direction.

“Got a call from that Buckley girl, kid.”

Eddie furrows his eyebrows as he walks to the phone in the living room.

He answers with a question in his voice.

“Hey Bird. You okay?”

He is cut off from asking anything else when Robin launches into one of her rambles.

“Well honestly I feel like I might be going crazy because like a year ago- well I guess it was two years ago. Anyway- this one Summer our tv went out and I had to find other ways to entertain myself, and you know I’ve already read every book I own and Steve was working on his house and was busy all the time so no one could drive me to the library-”

“Bird! What’s going on? Why did you call?”

She groans dramatically, “I was getting there Eddie. But fine. I learned how to read tarot and I don’t know what you said to Steve about the soulmate reading you did for him, but I know for a fact that The Tower has nothing to do with the farmer’s market.”

And isn't that just it? All of Eddie’s carefully crafted lies coming back to bite him.

“I- Robbie. You can’t tell him. Please?”

Her voice drops in a show of sincerity.

“Of course not Eds. I won’t tell him.”

He heaves out a breath of relief.

“Thank you, Bird. I owe you one.”

She giggles.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” She pauses before she speaks again.

“Not with Steve though. He’s the one who taught me how to read the cards.”

#Eddie knows tarot #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #Steve harrington #Eddie munson #Steve is causing problems on purpose #Eddie is going to have to go into hibernation after this stunt #robin is a ride or die #gin writes #shot of gin

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cutielights · 3 months

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Hey pookie!! I luv ur work sm and I was wondering if u could do a rottmnt boys x spider woman reader ab them reacting to her stopping a collider like miles did? Idek if u watched into the spider verse but maybe something like that if not u could wing it if you'd like tysm hope u have a good day/night! ❤️

>>:] yes. For the purposes of writing, im going to act as if you were a spider person for at least a year before this. Not supposed to be Miles’ story, but pretty similar (if that makes sense)

i waNT THE THIRD MOVIE. Frikin dying of miles morales deprivation over here, hand over the sunflower boy with in tact parents

@moonchhu THE OTHER SPIDER PERSON ONE TAG LIST

That Really Big Earthquake

LEO

“Heyyyy, I haven’t seen you in twenty four hours which truly is a record for us, I missed you, did you miss me? I bet you did right? Go on tell me aaaalllll about it.”

“So, I was just kinda minding my own business, y’know, thwipping and thwapping and going about being an awesome hero when I bumped into myself? Kinda. They looked like me, but they were different, and didn’t look like me, but, I knew they were me! Because my spider sense went off and they could do stuff I could do, but also some different stuff! And then we freaked out for a little bit before I went to auntie May to show her and she showed me four more other me’s who were hiding out in her basement and then we tried getting them home and we had to sneak about in this fancy restaurant wearing bow ties, and we cried and they went into this collider thing, also it turns out my favourite cousin was working for the evil genius corporation and he’s dead now and it feels like my fault, I’m so totally fine don’t worry about me. Howwasyourday?”

“Haha, what.”

“Stopped the collapsing of the multiverse.”

“Oh it sounds so simple when you put it like that.” Yeah okay sarcasm queen

Made you some tea after that, let’s just, take a breath for a minute, m’kay?

He has decided it’s a self care day now, at least he did after thoroughly checking you for injuries

How you do not have a concussion will always escape him, not one broken bone? Seriously? After all that?

Please remind him you’re an actual super hero and not a pane of glass

“Wait what was that about your cousin?”

RAPH

“Hey! How was your weekend?”

“Crazier than yours.”

“Okay, Bet.”

One explanation later sponge bob narrator voice

“Wait, so you’re telling Raph, that huge earthquake that happened, happened because of you and five alternate versions of yourself?

“That’s excluding a lot of things I just told you but, I am telling Raph that, yes.”

Huge bone crushing hugs are in order, according to him at least. And I mean, is he wrong?

Not letting you out of his sight for ages, please, Raph, let them go home

“Why are you so worried? I did it, I won!”

“It’s more the fact that it happened and less the fact that you’re mostly fine.”

DONNIE

Othello Von Ryan: Stay home, S.H.E.L.LD.O.N has picked up on some strange (possibly universal fabric destroying) activity. Also there has been some earthquake activity in the area you were in yesterday, not that I have a tracker on you. Because I don’t.

Only Two Legs: I handled it don’t worry :D

Othello Von Ryan: ?

Othello Von Ryan: Traverse to My Lab.

“Heyyy Deee.”

“Stop. Explain. This better be your attempt at humor.”

There was silence for a long while after you had messily glued together words to describe the past 24 hours, before he took a deep breath.

“First, How dare you stop the multiverse from collapsing without me that’s incredible rude. Second, therapy. Third, that earthquake and power surge destroyed My Lab, thankfully I have backup backups to my backups, but I couldn’t use the internet for an hour straight.”

“Y- You’re more concerned about the internet?”

“Not what I said. Now let me check you for a concussion.”

MIKEY

“Hey they took down those art displays.”

“The what?”

“Oh you weren’t here, BUT there was these reaaaallllyyyyy cool art statues along this street! Look, hey, look, I took pics!”

“Oh cooollluuuhhh that’s not an art display that’s five different fire hydrants merged into each other.”

“Haha yeah it does kinda look like that doesn’t it? I thought it was supposed to be a dog.”

“Mikey, no-“ You pulled him aside into an empty alleyway, trying to explain what had happened over the past twenty four hours.

It was an interesting experience, but you got there eventually.

Best believe this boy is giving you the biggest hug ever, and then buying pizza.

Oh, and Dr Feelings is going to be paying you a visit. Multiple. You can’t escape him.

“So they weren’t art displays?”

Speedily bulk writing and scheduling rn bc im going on a holiday with zero internet.

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weebsinstash · 11 months

Note

consider; multiverse shenanigans with a spider!reader where they make some offhand comment about how their heat/rut is coming up soon and they'll need some volunteers to cover patrols while they're down and half the society is like 'o damn that sucks, yeah i can swing a tuesday' and the other half is like 'your WHAT is coming up???'

and it turns out that a decent chunk of the multiverse has no idea what a/b/o orientations even are and it somehow just got totally lost in translation until that very second that this was a thing. what do you mean omega???? what the fuck do you mean you just thought i was a really boring smelling beta?????????? y'all motherfuckers are SNIFFING PEOPLE?!?!?!?!

now consider a miguel that is not from an a/b/o verse hearing about this and doing a little research to figure out exactly what a heat/rut is and just getting sucked down a rabbit hole and going feral for the idea that you're going to be in a highly suggestible and vulnerable state for nearly a WEEK and he's going to miss it!!! he didn't get invited!!!! what the fuck!!! the man spends a solid 48 hrs immersed in really bad multiversal porn and comes out the other end hungover and weeping that he nearly missed out on this

so he takes it upon himself to do a little rearranging, some scheduling, some scheming, and lo and behold you find yourself stuck in this crappy half-built nest in nueva york with miguel, who has no real idea how he's supposed to actually perform for you while ur like this and is just making it up as he goes- and totally ignoring the cultural and consent issues he's digging up doing this bc its biology right? so its fine? people in ur universe do this all the time, he has no idea why ur complaining just let him help u out jeez-

Some rando Spiderperson intending to be transphobic: --and they want us to accept everyone as whatever they say they wanna be now, as if men can get pregnant!

Reader, without skipping a beat: what the actual fuck are you talking about, my father carried me and my siblings for 6 months

Miguel is just starting to know you and is actively trying to learn more about you and one day you just, I dunno, you two do a mission together and he gives you praise and you just look at him with a big smile 😊 and your ass straight up PURRS for a few moments and he's just like 🥺❤️ gatito... ❤️

The man sees you talking to Jess and Peter B one day and O'Hara is watching from a distance because he's, awkward and not sure how to approach you, and suddenly his super hearing can pick up someone in the room talking idly about you, or even explaining ABO stuff to another person. "Yeah, see em over there, holding Peter Bs kid? Those Omega always have nurturing instincts. It's cause they're wired to spit out tons of babies. They're the breeders. They even have natutal pheromones to calm down their mates and friends and children" and suddenly Miguel's ears are burning "youre tellin me my darling might wants lots of little babies running around? Fantastic."

Mexican/Irish and also Catholic Miguel who wants one of those STUPID HUGE families where people have at least 6 kids and it's like "oh a typical Omega pregnancy usually has at least two or three babies in one go and theyre shorter than normal human pregnancies huh? Interesting :)"

Some members of the Spider Society are like "why is Miguel kind of lowkey being a dick to me all the time now" oh well its very simple you see, Miguel read your file and found out you're an Alpha and you share this weird connection and also natural biological attraction to HIS lil honeybee and He Hates You Now. Fuck off out his house and don't let him see you talking to his baby or else

He gets really close to you one day, I mean like physically, or hey maybe emotionally too, and he's hugging you and he gets a whiff of your scent and it's something he can't even describe, something that has a carnal biological effect on his where he just wants to keep holding you and hearing your voice like a drug, like it's oxytocin on crack, and suddenly in true scientist fashion he's researching you, your universe, its history, its medicine, its culture.

Can't help but imagine a Miguel who goes full yandere and gives no fucks about doing what he wants for darling and splices his DNA with Alpha DNA so he can officially claim you as a mate, scenting, knotting, and everything. Lyla gives you instructions to meet him in a specific place and it turns out he's been experimenting on himself and he's deep in a rut and suddenly your knees are getting pushed into your chest and you're getting passionately knotted and filled up by a grunting growling purring Miguel who's leaving love bites and kisses all over your skin, just, his size alone would make him hard to get away from, you don't even need to add Alpha instincts and being able to track your pheromones on top of that 😳

Miguel "just let me 'help you as a friend'" O'Hara who tracked when your next heat was going to kick in and maybe even drugged you so it comes at a specific time and he makes it where the two of you are together or even trapped or something when it happens and, here he is, "oh just let me help you, isn't it hurting" but like. We all know it's because he wants to. Like could you even imagine he's, you know, using his fingers and he goes to remove his pants or free himself or whatever and you're just like "no I'll get pregnant" and he just kind of has a Microsoft error window in his brain because it's like. Oh you'll get almost DEFINITELY pregnant? Guaranteed? You're trying to tell the man you dont want to and instead at least internally he's like "promise? 👉👈"

#yandere miguel o'hara #yandere stuff #sinprompts #miguel o'hara x reader

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itstheghostofmypast · 3 months

Text

Tornado Warnings

Idol Song Mingi x (F)Reader

Summary: She had to tell him one way or the other, but she didn't want him to take it any other way than it really was. Who was she confronting though, at the end of it all, herself, him, or their relationship?

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: insecurities, depression, anxiety disorder

Est.Read Time: 25 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Ratings: nc-17

Banner: @cafekitsune

Song Rec: Tornado Warnings (Sabrina Carpenter)

Staring up at the ceiling she wondered if she should tell him or not. He had been sitting at his desk, hunched over, the expanse of his broad shoulders making it look extremely painful. Ever so often he'd mumble to himself, reading out a verse, shaking his head, and then scribbling it out, the room littered with paper balls. After an hour of collecting them and throwing them in the bin, she had given up and decided to read instead- that was 3 hours ago, and by now, the room looked like it belonged to a toddler.

Slamming his hand on the desk he groaned, the wood shivering under his large hand. He was frustrated, she could tell, and he could tell too, but he wasn't frustrated because of the lyrics- no that was just part of the frustration. He was frustrated because he wasn't able to pay attention to her today, spend time with her, or talk to her, even though he had invited her over today. They were supposed to be free today, which they were, which is why he called her but as soon as he saw her face he felt as if the world had stopped and his brain had begun to jumble words together for some coherency- it frustrated him how she was his source of inspiration, yet the subject of neglection.

"Mingi?" She finally decided to break the four-hour-long silence. Shit. She probably wanted to leave, she was probably tired of waiting for him, of course, she was, why wouldn't she be?

"Mingiiiiiii~" she whined, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him, the soft material colliding with his head with an umf. Rubbing his head he turned around, staring at her, eyes filled with dread.

"Yeah- I- am almost done-"

"I want to go to a therapist."

"Sure-" he paused, confused, staring at her for a second, brows knitting together in confusion, why? Was he the reason? Did someone hurt her? Was there something she never told him-

"Mingi, if you keep making that face and zoning out, I'll beat you with a pillow."

Snorting at the threat he stood up, shaking his head before stretching his arms over his head, making him look even taller. Tilting her head up to meet his gaze she frowned, unsure if he was going to take this well or not, but the moment he jumped on the bed beside her, his action causing the whole bed to rock, a laugh wracked through her body.

He laid there on his side, facing her, head resting on his palm, elbow digging into the sheets, most of his legs dangling off the bed as he smiled at her, "Okay, no more intrusive thoughts or work, you have my full attention".

"Finally," muttering, she reached over to run her fingers through his brown, unkempt, spikes, "Look at this nest..." His eyes closed at the kind gesture, only to snap open at the latter statement, "It goes with the concept- does it not look good?"

"Of course it does."

"Then?"

"Just makes it harder for me to...." she trailed off, averting her gaze and pulling her hand back to her lap. Sitting up straight he frowned at her, reaching over to clasp her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Love...what is it...you- we promised to always share right?" His voice was calm but she could sense the desperation in his words, slowly pulling her closer, both now sitting cross-legged on the bed, she was glad his bed was as big as him because even with his legs folded in and back pressed against the wall, he was taking a lot of space.

"I told- I mean, you know how I said that I kind of feel off these days?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been seeing this therapist and-"

"You're going to therapy? You didn't tell me? Is everything okay? Did something happen? Wait, you want to or are you going to one?" Brows knitted together he licked his lower lip, ready for more of his interrogation, why hadn't she told him? Did he have a role in this? What was the premise of the situation, were they going to be, okay?

Raising a hand gesturing him to stop and calm down, and for herself to do the same, taking a deep breath she exhaled and gained some form of composure. "I... okay, so, I only went once, free trial kind of thing, but then, she asked me a few questions I couldn't really answer, so I stopped- its been a week so yeah..."

Nodding in return he pursed his lips in thought before muttering, "What kind of questions?"

"Relationships..." He nodded at her short response, thinking for a moment before humming, "And...that makes you feel uncomfortable?"

It wasn't like she felt uncomfortable, in fact their relationship was one of the most important and joyous highlights of her life, but it was one that she was to keep to herself, at least for some time. It's not like she didn't know this before committing to this relationship.

"I- the thing is..." She began slowly, he could tell by looking at her expressions that she was choosing her words very carefully, "I just feel like I'll be lying, so it'll make the session pointless, on the other hand, I don't want to talk about us because what of it is leaked or something else..."

Nodding he thought to himself, humming as he leaned against the wall. He understood where she was coming from, on one hand, he knew how important it was to have a clear head, a cluttered mind often leads one to some form of depression. On the other hand, he wanted to be selfish and keep her all to himself, but letting her go...would make her happy, then the question is, did he love her enough to let her go?

He took a deep breath, pulling his hand away from her, choosing to cross his arms over his chest, as if he were holding down what was bubbling within him, and began his question, trying ever so hard to ensure his voice didn't betray him, "Do you...want to" only it did, turning into a faint whisper " ...you know?"

'"What?" Confused she looked at him before noticing the way his eyes had watered, connecting the dots, only to gasp and yell, "NO YOU IDIOT!"

Grabbing the closest object, she smacked him, over and over again, lucky for him it was a pillow, "WHY WOULD I WANT THAT?" she continued, hopping off the bed, after he had jumped off, to run from her.

"I DON'T KNOW?"

"MINGI! I JUST DON'T WANT TO LIE ABOUT YOU" She threw the pillow that hit the desk, things falling off, wells he had thrown it at him, but he had ducked out of the way, "YOU GENIUS, WHY WOULD I WANT TO LEAVE YOU!" She could feel the bottled-up emotions ready to blow, all the insecurities and second thoughts, the side comments and feelings fuzzing up, ready to spill, mixed with anger and sadness. To think that he would jump to such a conclusion so quickly. Was she not there for him enough? Did she not express her love enough? Or did he not feel the same way for her- in terms of depth and intensity, perhaps he was looking for a moment, a moment he could use to finally escape from her broken form, she was basically a whole package as it is, a burden he had to hide and conceal from the world- perhaps he was tired of keeping secrets too, only unlike her, maybe he wanted to completely let go, but who was she to say no to him, who was she to cling onto him?

"WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU DISCUSSED THIS WITH ME BEFORE GOING TO ONE!" He yelled back, frowning at the mess, standing a good distance from her. Okay, perhaps he was upset, not only did she never mention the therapist before, but now he felt like maybe he was the problem. Though his voice had betrayed him, choosing to side with his bottled-up frustration, doing that one thing he had never wanted to do when it came to her, yell at her, to raise his voice and put the blame on her, even though he could clearly see her façade crack, yet here he was shoving it until it shattered.

For a moment she stared at him, quietly trying to arrange her thoughts, to understand her feelings, trying to deal with the turmoil, trying to compose herself, she knew she should have consulted with him before even getting an appointment but, perhaps she was not ready for the yelling. Letting out a frustrated sigh and closing his eyes, he rubbed his face, trying to calm down, to block out all the noise running around in his head. He didn't mean for it to get out of hand, especially not like this.

"I..." she began, only to sigh and shake her head, "Never mind, please forget I ever mentioned it." Walking over to the things that had fallen off his desk, picked up each item, and lined them up neatly against the wall. She could pretend this never happened, that therapy never happened, that her feelings getting the best of her never happened, the feeling of being choked by her own thoughts never happened- not because he had yelled at her, no, but because of the fear of losing him, she’d rather watch herself slowly crumble away than to lose him like this. A toxic trait, it really is, she could now see what the therapist had meant when she told her ‘You must love yourself first before being able to love someone else’, but how could she just let him go? When he had always been there for her, and for once when he couldn’t help her, what was she to do? Leave him- perhaps that would have been better for him, but maybe, just maybe, the jealous little insecure girl in her wanted to hold onto him as long as she could.

"Mingi?" his eyes snapped open at her soft tone, meeting her meek gaze she patted the bed, "Why don't you lie down for a while, I'll order something to eat-"

"Why are- " he corrected himself, "were, you seeing a therapist? " Cutting her off, he stood there on the same spot. Watching her sigh as she sat down on the place she had cleared for him, staring at her lap, "Because...I just...sometimes I feel things...Mingi and I can't understand them and it's like I'm being choked by my thoughts."

His gaze softened at the confession, sighing as he walked to her, taking a seat next to her, he pulled her into his side, arm wrapped around her shoulders, "I- do you feel like that because of me? Because of us- I mean I'd understand because we have to hide our relationship." his words were soft, but she could sense the desperation. Leaning onto him she shook her head, reaching for his free hand, as she began to play with his fingers.

"Never," whispered she clasping her smaller hand in his much larger one, "It was and will never be you- you, this relationship, us, this is the highlight of my life." A smile grew on his face at her words, pulling her closer, if that were even possible.

"But" she pulled away, much to his disappointment, “The thing is, if I lie in therapy, then I won't get a proper diagnosis" She paused staring up at him. Silently nodding he scrunched his nose, trying to push up his glasses without letting go of her hand. An extremely inefficient way, but he didn't want to ruin the moment, maintaining eye contact right now was vital. He knew when she looked up at him like that, she'd be hinting at him to process her words instead of reacting. The way her eyebrows were slightly raised, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, ready for her tongue to roll off the next list of words.

"But?"

Reaching with her free hand she slowly pushed his glasses up, sliding them up the tip of his nose to the bridge, "I don't want to lie about you, I can't pretend you don't exist. How can I say I am single? Forget our relationship for an hour I spend there, skip through the pages of our days spent together, like a chapter pulled out by the editor at the last moment." pulling her hand away she sighed, laying back down on this soft bedding, legs dangling off, arms folded above her tummy as she looked up at the ceiling- it would've been impossible to confess her insecurities and fears while looking right at him. The innocent face he'd make, pouting at her like a child, slowly processing her words.

"How do I lie about you in that office, then come back out pretending I never did such a thing, how do I get back to the rhythm without missing a step?"

Mingi let her pull away, knowing she needed a bit of space, he did do- more than often. So, he sat there, staring ahead, but his attention was solely on her words, patiently waiting for her.

"Even if I convince the doc you don't exist, does this mean I'll end up convincing myself that too- or worse, what if I end up convincing you that I- we, no longer exist."

She had no idea when she had begun to cry, not even a memory of when her vision had turned blurry, but a hand reached up to furiously wipe away the leaking emotions, the guilt that had begun to choke her soul, with a grip so tight and strong that it scared her.

"The worst part is, that you're not even the problem, you aren't the reason for my trip, but factors in my life I cannot control. My family, apparent friends, and this pressure- sometimes I just text you at night, knowing you're asleep, knowing you're tired, knowing you won't reply instantly- but you're like the light at the end of the tunnel, and I can't help but reach out for it when I'm being pulled back into my pit and-" she paused when she felt the bed shake, sitting up on her elbows she noticed his trembling shoulders.

"Min... are you okay?" sitting up, placing a hand on his shoulder, she gave it a light squeeze. "I just...the reason why I walked out was because she asked me if I had anyone around me, I could rely on with my eyes closed. And Mingi...I sat there, staring at her face like an idiot, how could I tell her, the person I blindly rely on is the goofy, giant, artist- I came to know about another idol whose doctor exposed him and well, I can't risk that, but I don't want you to have a partner that's not emotionally fit...you deserve the world Mingi, you deserve to be with someone who will love you as much as you love me, you have a big heart Mingi- I…I don’t I’m selfish, even though I know you deserve all that, I can’t let you go, and I’m not really sorry for that…I-" With a slight pause she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, trying to control it all, for the sake of it, for him, she whispered, “I can’t lose you.”

When she got no response from him, she moved closer, shaking him a bit, "Mingi?" she leaned closer only for him to turn away whining as he let out a choked, "Don't, Yunho says I look ugly when I cry."

She couldn't help but snort at that statement causing him to frown and turn to glare at her. Unfortunately, his red, puffy eyes and trembling lower lip made it too difficult for her to take him seriously as she gushed over him, "Awww don't cry -"

"You're an insufferable woman," he pushed her hands off as she wrestled to not move them, her laugh resonating across the room.

"What? you look cute!" she tried to pull him closer as his large palm pressed against her cheek, trying to push her away, "You’re a masochist, you can't say such things and then laugh! You do need mental help!" he half cried; half yelled in protest trying to not ruin his "cool" image any further.

Their little banter was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by its opening a bit as a head poked in, "Hey, sorry to bother you, but are you guys okay-" Seonghwa paused at the sight before him.

With one hand she was pulling on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, while her other hand was gripping the leg of his track pants. His eyes scanned the other idiot, whose palm was squished against his girlfriend's face, fingers covering half the side as if he was trying to push her away, while his other hand, arm extended completely, was gripping onto the edge of the bed like he was trying to escape. He noticed their puffy eyes and tousled hair, but he was so confused.

Seonghwa had been asked by Yunho to go check on Mingi. He was in his room when he heard the younger one yell, followed by a few things falling on the ground. He knew Mingi well enough to know he wouldn't do something stupid, but he also knew that the idiot had no control over his tongue when he was emotional. However, this was not what he was expecting to see.

"uhh... never mind."

The door closed as the two exchanged a look and burst out laughing, Seonghwa who was on the other side of the door shook his head and walked away, leaving them be.

She was too busy laughing to realise when he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight as she wheezed. Her face was buried in his neck, giggling against him. He let out a sigh, letting the silence envelop them both for a while, her body still pressed against his, arms not budging an inch, both of them lying on the soft bed. The sound of their calm breathing, mixed with the low buzz of the air conditioner had almost lulled her to sleep, his warmth wasn't helping her either. Just as her brain was about to slow down to neutral, she was violently shaken awake, "Excuse me, don't you sleep on me."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU~" whining she pulled away only to almost fall off the bed until he pulled her closer. "I'm sorry for yelling at you." he smiled at her, when she placed a soft hand on his cheek, pinching it, "I'm not upset Mingi."

"You know Hongjoong is a great person to talk to" he suggested but stopped when he saw the face she was making, "what?" he asked, placing a limp arm on her waist.

"You realise he once advised me to put laxatives in your juice when you pranked me on my birthday."

"WHAT-" He gasped sitting up, "SO IT WAS HIM?"

"So, I think I should just stick to talking about my problems with you." she sighed, laying on her back and closing her eyes, "After a nap though- and you treat me with a nice meal, after ...that," she mumbled, feeling the fatigue left by the rush of various emotions. A few seconds had passed and she was almost asleep, her reflexes slowing down. She was almost asleep until she felt something soft press against her lips for a quick second before she was enveloped by extreme warmth, which could only be him pulling her closer, ignoring the problems and insecurities of the world for a few hours- just the two of them together, alone, peacefully happy in their dreams.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee

@mlysalt @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp

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auroragreenvale · 6 months

Text

People Watching - JJ Maybank

They met in class for metaphysical philosophy, he tells his friends I like her ‘cause she’s so much smarter than me

OR How you and JJ met

Summary: A look into different points of JJ and reader's relationship inspired by People Watching by Conan Gray. 3k words

***

A/N: I loveee this song especially the opening verse and I always loved picturing the people that inspired it. The chapters wont follow the order of the lyrics. I hope y'all enjoy :)

***

“Dude look what is this shit?” He smacked the paper before holding it out to Pope. He took hold of it, looking over each class listed in his friend’s schedule for the upcoming year until he found the so-called “shit” JJ was referring to: Philosophy. Pope let out a chuckle the moment he registered the word and looked over at his friend, amused. “Pope, man this isn’t funny they must’ve messed up my schedule and shit! I can’t take this class, man!” Pope could only continue to laugh, catching Kiara’s attention. She grabbed the paper out of Pope’s hand and quickly displayed the same reaction as him.

“Wow JJ I had no idea you were such a scholar! An intellectual if you will?”

“Shut up Kie!” JJ rolled his eyes as his friends’ laughter died down, ready to show a little sympathy.

“Look JJ,” Pope started, “It really isn’t that big a deal. This stuff happens just go talk to the counselor and get it fixed, easy.”

“Yeah alright… gimme that,” JJ snatched back his class schedule before roughly folding it and putting it into his pocket. He’d probably remember to look at it again before the first day. Probably.

***

To JJ, school was the single biggest waste of his time. He sat through stupid classes all day, missing out on prime surfing time. And what’s worse, it’s not like he could smoke a joint in the middle of history, much less chat with any of his friends in English. He was just glad to have guaranteed easy classes that required close to nothing on his end. That and the knowledge that he didn’t have parents riding his case about his education or caring about his future allowed him to ignore the nuisance that was school once he left the building. But being put in philosophy did not work into his plan. Philosophy was for the smart people. Like Pope smart. Maybe even smarter and JJ definitely considered himself a lot less smart than Pope. JJ took the classes that were required of him and absolutely nothing else. The people who took philosophy probably finished half of their requirements in middle school and overloaded on classes with specific topics because they were actually interested in them. He shuddered at the thought of more school as he entered his next class. Seven students sat at the various desks, not even filling half of them. JJ thought maybe the rest of the class was running late but he thought it was weird that everyone there currently sat toward the front of the room. His other classes were always full and people had no issue sitting in the very back row even if the one closest to the teacher had yet to be filled. But JJ was a master at blending in of course and even though he planned to get out of this class by tomorrow, he could still have fun pretending to be one of the smart kids. He slid into the last empty seat in the second row, looking around and observing his temporary classmates. His brow furrowed in confusion when he noticed them all with faces in books or scribbling away in their notebooks. How were they doing work before the bell had even rung? He slid down slightly in his seat letting his head hang down in the direction of his empty desktop, hoping to divert attention away from himself so as not to blow his cover and ruin his little game. His hand came up to the side of his face, blocking it from the others in his row as he waited for the dreaded class to begin.

“Hi!” The sound came from the desk next to him. He lowered his hand and looked over at the girl sitting there. “...I… haven’t seen you before, I’m Y/N.”

“Oh well… I typically take a lotta... math... classes so this is kinda… new for me,” he tested out.

“Oh me too! Maybe we’ll have some more classes together.” You smiled at him warmly.

“Mmm yeah maybe,” he smiled, amused at the possibility, “I’m JJ.”

“Nice to meet you. Glad to have you in class JJ.” Again he smiled, you reading it as politeness when he really was trying to hold back laughter. Finally the bell rang signaling the beginning of class and JJ realized no other students had entered the room. If the first bell took that long to sound, he knew it would take an eternity before the last one would sound, ending his philosophy career and his misery.

***

“You’re kidding me what!? What do you mean there’s no other classes??” JJ yelled, ignoring that he was in the administrative office.

“Please keep it down Mr. Maybank. What I mean is that all the other classes at that time are full so we can’t move you out of your current class.”

“Ughh! … Yall messed this up, you gotta fix it!”

“I’m sorry JJ but there’s nothing I can do.”

“Okay but you don’t understand I can’t spend the whole semester in this class its for like the genius kids! I can’t do that shit!”

“Mr. Maybank please watch your language. And as for these ‘genius kids’ I suggest you talk to one of them about tutoring you.” At that JJ threw his head back and groaned as he exited the office and made his way outside to join his friends for lunch. They immediately noticed his dramatic expression as he approached.

“Whats up J,” Kiara asked slowly.

“This bullshit! They said they can’t take me outta that stupid class!”

“Wait you mean philosophy? You have to stay in it all semester,” Pope asked. JJ nodded.

“And what’s worse they said I should get a fucking tutor! Like I’m gonna go outta my way and do more school when I’m not even at school,” JJ shook his head, “I think I’ll just go ahead and fail.”

“Hate to break it to you man but if you fail it they’ll probably make you retake it over the summer.”

“Pope dude are you serious?” He nodded. “Fuuuck.” Kiara patted his shoulder, looking amused.

“Well uh, guess you’re getting a tutor.”

***

JJ walked into his second day of philosophy and slumped down in the seat next to yours. Blowing out a breath, he reluctantly looked over at you, preparing to ask you the dreaded question. You gave him a small smile.

“So uh… do you like… tutor people ever? For a friend! He’s… he’s looking for a… tutor.” Your smile grew, knowing where this was going.

“Oh yeah I do what does your, uh friend need tutoring in?”

“This class!-- Well not this… class but you know this subject.”

“Mmm okay well I’d be willing to be your friend’s study buddy, help ‘em out.”

“Okay cool cool.... Cool. That's real uh cool of you.” You giggled.

“Cool,” you answered sarcastically. This made JJ laugh softly, dropping his charade.

“Yeah so uh… should we get crackin’ like today I-- I think that would… be good. And do we… me at… the library or…?”

“Um we could or we could just go to my place if that's better?”

“Okay yeah… yeah sure that's good I’ll uh, meet you after school?”

“Sounds good.” He mirrored the smile you gave him before you both turned to face the front of the class where the teacher stood.

***

“JJ come on, the final’s in two weeks you need to get some more work done on your paper so you can start reviewing in time.”

“But dude. This paper is so stupid I do not care about any of these old guys’ theories.”

“Okay but you know them, I know ‘cause I helped you learn them, so pick one and write something about it.” JJ groaned in his usual dramatic fashion making both of you laugh. You shoved him lightly, telling him to write which he eventually began to do. When you had finished up your own essay you turned your attention to what JJ had started writing. You read over the beginnings of his essay a couple of times.

“JJ! This is good. These ideas are really good!”

“Well don’t sound so surprised,” he joked.

“I just mean I figured you had nothing since you didn’t want to write it so bad. But this is good, keep going and we can polish it up.”

“For real?”

“Yeah I’m really proud of you.” It was a simple statement and you quickly turned your attention to work for your other classes. But JJ let his gaze linger on you for a few seconds longer, a small smile on his lips. No one had ever said they were proud of him before. At least not that he could remember and definitely not when it came to smart stuff like this. He felt his heart expand hearing those words and he wondered how it would feel to hear them again. And again. He hoped he might do something else deserving of someone’s pride again. It made him feel taken care of in the way he tries to take care of his friends and it felt good to be on the other side of that kind of affection. He turned his attention back to his work and for the first time in his education, felt some motivation.

“No listen John B she’s like, so smart it's like cool! She might even be smarter than Pope and he’s probably the smartest person I know.” In his modesty, Pope let out a loud laugh, thinking JJ must have pretty low standards for intelligence if he was on the smartest end. “Pope what the hell is funny man?” This made Kiara snicker as well. JJ’s friends were all amused at how serious he seemed to be about this, all seeing what he couldn’t.

“Uh, JJ it sounds like you might have a little crush,” John B said.

“Shit,” JJ said, brushing off the notion. “Fuck,” he said more quietly in realization in disbelief. His friends continued their quiet giggling at his apparent predicament.

“You gonna… you gonna ask her out or what? I mean you’ll only be in class together for another what, two weeks? And I doubt you’ll ever be in one of her classes again so,” Pope laughed.

“Shut up man I could be, I'm doing pretty good.”

“I’m sorry could any of you imagine JJ dating this apparent genius girl,” Kiara laughed at the images it brought to her mind.

“Yeah I don’t know if she’d be down to date like a surfer dude,” John B changed his voice to mock his friend.

“Or she’d be like studying or something and you’re all,” Kiara also took on a ridiculous voice, “‘Hey babe wanna hit,’” she mimicked blowing out smoke and took on a stoner persona that they all knew was incredibly far off from JJ. But they still found it funny.

“You guys are the fucking worst and I’m gonna ask her out and you’re all gona feel like idiots okay,” JJ said holding both of his middle fingers up for all of his still amused friends to see.

“Just invite us to the wedding okay,” Kiara mocked, earning a shove from her friend as she fell out laughing.

***

“Hey I wanna… say, ya know thanks for helping, uh my friend out with this class,” JJ said trying to bring you back to the beginning of the semester with this class. You closed your book figuring it was time for a break. You gave JJ a tired smile that was nonetheless bright. He almost rolled his eyes when he smiled back just as big remembering how his friends noticed his feelings before he did and hating them being right.

“Well he was a pretty… okay study buddy,” you joked back. JJ let out a breathy laugh.

“Just okay?”

“Well you’re pretty easily distracted but you do keep it fun. So better than okay I guess. And you really impressed me this semester. You’re a lot smarter than you think.” When JJ recalls this moment he can only assume he blushed a bright pink at your genuine statement and the look in your eyes. Thinking about it, he still wants to melt in both embarrassment and somehow happiness. He quickly changed the subject.

“Gonna be weird not seein’ each other all the time huh?” He had really gotten used to seeing you everyday, enjoying the time he spent with you even if it was filled doing activities he didn’t so much enjoy.

“Yeah.” You paused. “...No one in my classes is ever as,” you searched for the right word but couldn’t find it, “...fun as you.”

“Well no one in my classes is ever so damn smart like you,” he replied, “But uh, I was wondering did you maybe wanna hang out sometime? Like no studying or anything?”

“Yeah I would, yeah. Let’s do that,” You smiled at him and then opened your textbook again, eyes going down to the words you knew you would no longer be able to focus on.

***

JJ stood in front of the small bathroom mirror in the Chateau fluffing and fixing his hair over and over, indecisive. He wore his least dirty pair of boots and had borrowed one of John B’s less loud button down shirts. He topped it with a jacket. He felt a little weird but he hoped you’d think he looked nice in the clothes that were slightly nicer than what he typically wore to school. He smoothed back his hair one more time and ran his hand through it once. He settled on that. At least it was clean and dry, an improvement from the usual. He drove the Twinkie to your place, a very familiar route by now. When he arrived he paused in the driver's seat. Did he text you he was here or did he go up and knock? Was that what people did to pick up a friend or just dates? You hadn’t said this was a date. And what if one of your family members answered the door? He let out a breath and opened the car door before he could stop himself. He walked up to the door and knocked. He waited almost a moment too long, beginning to contemplate going back to the car and texting you when you opened the door grinning. You were actually really excited to hang out with JJ and get to know him more without homework and studying. You had enjoyed his company over the semester. JJ smiled and felt relief when you appeared and then suddenly felt self conscious. You looked exactly like yourself and he was wearing someone else's clothes. So fucking stupid. He tried to push it out of his mind as you greeted each other and he walked you to the Twinkie. As you both almost arrived at the driver's side of the car, he had the idea to open your door for you. He stopped awkwardly and abruptly, confusing you, as he changed direction to go around the front of the van. He opened the door for you and you got in thanking him. You showed little confusion, just a small smile, as you were used to his odd actions at this point. JJ got in the car, turned up the music and began driving. He felt nervous as shit. He spent the entire semester with you and now you were causing him to act like an idiot. And this wasn’t even a date! What was wrong with him? He clutched the top of the steering wheel and glanced over at you quickly before he started speaking.

“So uh I was thinking we could maybe get some food over at The Wreck? That… that cool?”

“Yeah that sounds good,” you responded. JJ didn’t really love the idea of going to the place Kie’s parents owned and she worked there. He’d be surprised if he didn’t see his dumbass best friends there trying to spy on his date. If they all weren’t, Kie would definitely be working there, and have prime position to embarrass him. But she did offer to cover half the bill and it was a hot spot. JJ figured it would look good and maybe earn him another date. Or a first real one actually. God he just hoped he wouldn't blow it. Another date with you, even if only one more sounded like a great deal to JJ, and he needed to do everything possible to make it happen.

***

You sat in the passenger seat of the van that JJ had informed you was called the Twinkie. The conversation lulled as he drove the car up to your house and in that moment of silence, realization dawned on you. Your brows scrunched as you tried to make sense of the thought that had appeared in your mind. JJput the car in park and you turned to him before he could say anything. You took a breath.

“JJ? Was this a date?” You asked it with hesitation but more confidence than you expected to come through your words. JJ turned to you, caught off guard, but quickly painted on his signature playful smirk.

“Did you want it to be,” he asks. You almost rolled your eyes.

“JJ,” you repeated more sternly this time. You really wanted to know his answer. “Was this a date?” His face softened and his expression changed from the confident boy most knew well to almost bashful. You decided you liked that look on him.

“I was kinda hoping it could be.” He looked up at you at the end of his statement and mustering all of his confidence leaned in. It happened quickly. He touched his lips briefly to yours in a soft kiss. It was so delicate that it stole your breath, making you dizzy. He pulled away before you could even process that moment. He looked at you, eyes closed and bottom lip between your teeth to suppress a smile. You took a deep breath in.

“Definitely a date then.” You opened your eyes slowly.

“That cool with you,” JJ asked, growing nervous. You nodded flashing that smile that JJ already found intoxicating.

“I’m hoping you can… take me on another one?”

“Yeah of course.”

“Okay,” you said. You leaned over quickly, mirroring his actions, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Just as quickly, you exited the car with one more look back at the boy. With your back to him as you unlocked your door, he let out a cheer before speeding off. You smiled to yourself as you entered your house and JJ grinned his whole way home.

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank imagines #obx imagine #outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #people watching #auroragreenvale #pplw

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absolutebl · 8 months

Note

There was a surprising amount of sex in Be Mine Superstar! I really wasn’t expecting it…. Similarly, Love Syndrome had a LOT less sex than I was promised by the trailer…

Are there any BLs that had either many more or many less NC scenes than you were expecting before you started watching them?

BLs that exceeded (or underperformed) sexy expectations

Interesting question. So far, not that many Thai BLs. But I think that's just because I pay attention to the pairs and the actors in Thai stuff, and you sort of get a feel for what they will (and won't) take on. So in your examples: I know JaFirst did high heat so I expected the producers to lean into that advantage as part of BMSS because, frankly, it didn't have much else going for it.

I haven't watched Love Syndrome III yet but knowing Frank I wouldn't expect it to go super high heat in terms of actual physical contact.

I guess the ones that have surprised me are mostly out of Thailand are pulps that I knew nothing about going in. Let me see...

Thai BL that ended up being way hornier/better than I expected

Secret Crush On You - such a weird show but BillySeng brought IT, whatever IT is, they got it.

Love in Translation - yeah, what happened in that sauce isle boys? Very saucy. Whatever pun, more please.

2 Moons 3 - about on par with ForthBeam from 2 Moons 2 but nothing else in the previous 2 series would lead one to expect the horny we got in this show on the main.

Second Chance - yeah it was a throw away pulp and this studio is hit or miss on chemistry but it had one of the best kisses of its year.

Big Dragon - I don't know what I expected form the trailers, but it wasn't as good as it turned out to be. Don't get me wrong, the rest of the show is naff, but the chemistry/heat levels are scorching.

Ghost Host, Ghost House - generally the horror stuff doesn't do chemistry well, but these two have some of the best chemistry EVER put into a pulp. I really hope we see more of them.

KinnPorsche - It's no secret I'm not as wild about this show as most, but I did think the VegasPete stuff was unexpectedly killer in all ways.

Oh My Sunshine Night - yeah it was exactly what one expects from OhmFluke but THE SIDES!!!! I mean... WHAT? I'm not mad, just pleasantly surprised.

TharnType - Okay but remember at the time what we'd had from Mame was LBC (relatively low heat) and other Thai stuff I was familiar with at the time was Make It Right, Love Sick, SOTUS, and UWMA. TT was way higher heat that I'd seen from Thailand before. And then...

Why R U? - ZeeSaint's "away trip to the beach" full on sex scenes plus repping for verse was just crazy at the time. Especially since Saint played Pete in LBC before this and Zee was new to BL. Add that to the very odd and disjointed (and miss-matched) SaifahZon counter story and WRU? was this insane all over the place viewing experience, including the heat levels. There was this "what will they do next?" kind of tension over the production. Not the story (because who was following that?) but the PRODUCTION. At the time, it was welcome, but truly bonkers. What a way to drive narrative tension... pure high heat chaos.

Thai BLs where chemistry failed meet my (relatively low) expectations

My Ride - honestly, if they had just gotten the kiss right this might even have earned a 10/10 from me

Unforgotten Night - ugh

Bite Me - double ugh

Friend Forever - I know I'm the only person who watched this but why could we not have gotten ONE kiss from the leads?

Nitman - studies have since shown us it is entirely not Noh's fault... see Oh My Sunshine Night

Wedding Plan - the leads were fine, but Mame usually fails me in every way except chemistry, so "fine" is not up to her usual standards. Those standards being predominantly "they hawt together" and nothing else. There wasn't even a side dish couple to pick up the slack noodle... so to speak.

Korean BL

For most of 2022 I was consistently getting surprised by Korean BL's chemsitry when it was good but now I've settled into half expecting it yet still being delighted when it happens and is well done.

I do think Semantic Error was a bit of a seed change for them.

The problem is, now we know they can do it, we are starting to get pissed when it's bad or entirely absent.

Taiwanese BL

Taiwan is the opposite of Korea.

I expect good chemistry and almost always always get it. I struggle to think of a time when they've disappointed me (in this arena). Maybe a few? But I tend to cut Taiwan more slack than other countries because they have so few BLs and they are generally so consistent. If they falter at all, at least the side couple will pick up the slack.

Japanese BL

I have no expectations of Japan. Life as a BL fan is a lot easier that way.

(source)

#asked and answered #chemistry in bl #thay bls that disappointed me #thai bls that surprised me #how i feel about korea Taiwan and japan and their chemistry #thai bl #taiwanese bl #korean bl #japanese bl #Secret Crush On You #2 moons 3 #Oh My Sunshine Night #tharntype #why r U?

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wheresarizona · 1 year

Text

Anniversary

summary: With your toddler at his abuelo’s for the night, it means Javier and you have the house to yourselves, and you can be as loud as you want.

rating: E (18+!! This is fluff and smut. Established relationship, pregnant sex, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, oral sex (m), breeding kink, lactation kink mention, squirting, vaginal fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, body worship (Javier loves your pregnant body), Javier being the best partner, Javier being so in love, Javier being a good dad, so much fluff, feelings)

pairing: Javier Peña/f!reader

word count: 7.3k+

a/n: Can be read as a standalone or part of the Learning to Live ‘verse (it’s canon). To celebrate Learning to Live turning one and Pedro’s birthday, here’s a Javier and Cielito future fic and a glimpse into what their lives look like. Thank you to the love of my life @juletheghoul for betaing! I love you.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

The lighting is dim in the restaurant to set the mood, a candle lit on each table for some lovely ambiance. They sat you at a table instead of a booth, Javier across from you, holding the one-page menu in both hands low on the tabletop, his eyebrows creased as he read it over.

He’s wearing the navy blue suit because he knows it’s your favorite, with no tie and a crisp white shirt beneath his open jacket. The first few buttons are left undone, so you can see some of his chest and the column of his throat, it working as he swallows, mesmerized by how his Adam’s apple bobs. You’re thinking about how it looks with a sheen of sweat coating it, always paired with a nice flush that moves down onto his chest, and the way perspiration catches in the tantalizing trail of hair below his belly button, leading to his hard—

“I can feel you undressing me with your eyes, Cielito,” he rasps, glancing up with a knowing smirk under his perfectly trimmed mustache.

You feel zero shame at getting caught.

“A suit with no tie and buttons undone?” you ask. “It’s like you’re waving a big sign that says, ‘I’m down to fuck,’ and I’m just admiring the goods before I decide to buy.”

One hand goes to his mouth, his thumb swiping along his bottom lip, your attention drawn to it, arousal swirling in your belly.

“Yeah?” he asks. “You gonna buy?”

“Maybe.”

His hands go to his shirt, deftly opening one more button.

“How about now?” he asks.

“Javier!” you gasp dramatically, clutching imaginary pearls over your chest. “The townspeople will be scandalized by such indecency! They’ll think you a man of loose morals!”

One of his eyebrows arches.

“You done?”

Grinning, you reply, “Yes, and also definitely yes to us fucking as soon as we get home.” You wag your eyebrows.

He looks proud of himself, crookedly smiling.

“Knew this outfit would get you,” he says.

“Because you exploited my weaknesses.”

“And you just happened to decide to wear that tight fucking dress I love with no ulterior motives?”

“We exploit each other's weaknesses. It’s honestly quite romantic.”

“It is.” He nods. “You know what you’re gonna get? I’m assuming the pasta?”

“Yep. I don’t know why you stared at the menu for so long; you’re just gonna get the steak.”

“To rile you up.” He shrugs, setting his menu down on the table.

God, he knows you so well.

“I love you so fucking much it’s dumb,” you say.

He smiles, a tender look on his face.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“Javi?”

“Yes, mi amor?”

“Is it always going to be like this?”

His eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“Just being so disgustingly in love and horny for each other. I know we’re still in the honeymoon phase, where everything is good and easy, and every day I love you more and more, but will this feeling fade?” you ask with a frown.

“Cielito, we’re at this fancy fucking restaurant celebrating being married for four years…” he says slowly. “You’re gonna have our second kid in less than two months. We’re way past the honeymoon phase, baby—this is just how it is.” He smiles fondly. “I can tell you without a doubt that this feeling is never gonna fucking fade because what we have is real, and I love you more than anything.” He reaches over to grab your hand, his thumb rubbing over the diamond ring on your finger. “You’re the best wife and the most amazing mother to our son and daughter on the way, and I’m so fucking lucky that you chose to be with me all those years ago. I love you, Cielito, and I’ll never stop loving you.”

Tears are in your eyes, your throat feeling tight as your lip trembles.

“Javier, you know I cry easy. How dare you be so romantic!”

He raises your hand, leaning forward to kiss your knuckles and the ring.

“I’m sorry for making you emotional,” he says, setting it back down.

You can’t help yourself, starting to weep, the tears rolling down your cheeks, thankful you aren’t wearing makeup. Your skin is far too sensitive to get all dolled up, and add in the fact that if you tried, you’d probably end up crying it off; there’s no point.

“You’re not sorry, and I love you so much,” you sob. “You’re such a good dad and husband, and I feel like I won the lottery with you. Oh my god, I love you.”

Concern is on his face.

“Oh, baby, I love you, too,” he says in a calming tone. “Need a hug?”

“No, I’m okay,” you reply, grabbing your napkin to wipe at your wet face. “I feel like I’m crying more this pregnancy.” You look at him. “Cried about the quesadillas you’d made the other night ‘cause they were so good and your mom’s recipe. Cried when I saw a mamma duck and her ducklings on my way to work.”

Javi nods his head.

“You cried when we watched Star Wars,” he adds.

“The ewoks are so cute!”

“They are. I’m still not sure why you cried while listening to ABBA…”

“It’s ABBA, babe, and ‘Lay All Your Love On Me’ is just that good.”

He smiles.

“Right,” he says. “It was stupid of me to even wonder.”

The server arrives at the table, her eyes getting slightly bigger because she can tell you’ve clearly been crying.

“Thank you for your patience,” she says with a Texas twang. “Do y’all need a minute..?”

“Oh, no, we’re ready to order,” you reply. “Excuse the tears—pregnancy hormones are a bitch.”

The woman nods her head in understanding.

“Oh, darlin’, say no more. I get it. What can I get y’all?” She looks between you both.

Javi orders for you both, and once you are alone again, easy conversation flows between you.

The baby must’ve woken up, feeling her moving all about her tiny space, thinking she might be practicing kickboxing with the way she’s kicking so much. You jump from pain when she hits something low in your hip, making a face.

“What’s wrong?” Javi asks, his eyebrows furrowed.

Your hand is rubbing over your swollen belly, trying to calm the baby down.

“Your child is using my insides as a punching bag.”

“She’s my child when she’s being a dick, but ours when she’s cute?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

“You heard me–owe!” you yelp, thinking you got punched in a kidney.

Javi is out of his seat instantly, coming around the table to crouch beside you, resting his big hand over yours as he gets his face close to the side of your protruding tummy.

“Cálmate, mi bebita (Calm down, my baby girl),” he says in a soothing voice. “Porta te bien para tu mamá, por favor (Behave for your mom, please).” He switches to English, “You’re getting so big, mi princesa. I know you’re running out of room, but you gotta watch where you’re hitting. Aim for tu mamá’s belly button.” He presses down with your hand over the front of your stomach, feeling a kick to your palm.

“Oh my god, she hit my hand.”

Javi chuckles, kissing your belly over your dress.

“That’s my girl,” he says, sounding proud. “Aim toward here, so you’re not hurting your mom.”

It always surprises you how Javi can get the baby to calm down just by talking to them. It had been the same with your first, your husband speaking to your tummy and the kid mellowing out, which is happening now, the movements slowing as she relaxes inside you, his voice lulling her.

“We love you so much,” he continues. “Can you be good for us while we celebrate? Your brother is with tu abuelo (your grandfather) tonight, and I’ve got plans for your mom when we get home, so I’m sorry if her screaming my name scares you. I promise she’s okay.”

“Javier!”

He laughs, kissing your belly again.

He looks up at you.

“Has she calmed down?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer. “You’re the fucking baby whisperer, I swear to god.” You’re resting your hand on your bump.

He chuckles, kissing over your dress one more time before groaning as he rises up.

His hand lightly grasps under your chin to tilt your head up as he leans down to kiss you tenderly.

“I’m happy to help,” he murmurs onto your lips.

“I’m counting on it.”

He nips at your bottom lip, and it makes you moan.

“I meant what I said about tonight.”

“I can’t wait.”

You really can’t with how you are throbbing between your legs, tempted to skip dinner and just go home, but it is your anniversary, and you are starving, ordering the safest option on the menu that wouldn’t give you heartburn.

He kisses you one last time on the lips, then to the tip of your nose, pulling back to look you in the eyes with a soft look on his face.

“Happy anniversary, Cielito,” he says. “I love you.”

“Happy anniversary, Javi. I love you, too.”

He returns to his seat, and you talk until the food arrives, both of you quiet while eating. You share a dessert; before you know it, the bill is paid, and it’s time to leave. Javi is there to help you up, grabbing your purse hanging on your chair, and making sure you have no issues as you get out of your seat.

Getting outside, he’s shrugging off his suit jacket to put it over your shoulders, one of his arms wrapping around your waist, his other hand still carrying your bag as you make your way to his truck.

Pregnancy is crazy.

The first trimester was exhausting, morning sickness hell, where Javi was an MVP and did more than his fair share to care for your toddler and keep the house running while making you rest since you were growing a baby and still working your full-time job.

Then you entered the second trimester, and the morning sickness disappeared, being replaced with ridiculous horniness—it was insane how fucking horny you were all the time, pouncing on your husband any chance you got, much to his delight. It was the same moving into the third trimester, but now your stomach is getting huge, and you can’t move as well as before, needing Javi’s help to put on your shoes and socks in the morning. Sex has to be more strategic to make sure you aren’t uncomfortable, and your husband is more than willing to adapt, finding yourself being bent over the washer or the couch, him investing in a wedge pillow to support your belly when he was fucking you in bed. Honestly, you are beyond blessed to have such an amazing partner who can keep up and hadn’t tapped out the first weekend you had alone together after the horniness kicked in—you’d fucked nonstop, and afterward, Javi stocked up on sports drinks, and protein snacks to keep beside the bed.

He’s perfect.

There are some days when you’re too tired, or everything hurts, and all you can do is suffer—thankfully, those days are few and far between.

Javi’s dad is a godsend who babysits any chance he gets, giving you guys at least one date night a week and occasionally a whole weekend to yourselves. This is a night that you have alone, not needing to pick up your son until the following day, who will be excited to tell you all about his adventures with his abuelo—he loves when Chucho wheels him around in his wagon to help feed the animals at the ranch. There’s a framed photo of him in the red wagon with a bucket almost the same size as him, holding a long carrot up to Daphne, one of the two grown cows you and Javi jokingly called your bovine children, Velma, the other one, standing next to her.

Excited is an understatement for how you feel about getting home because even though you and Javi still have sex when your toddler is home and asleep in his own room, you always have to be quiet; things were a bit more subdued, but tonight the two of you can actually fuck, and be as loud as you want.

You sit next to him on the bench seat in his truck, as close as you can get without being in his lap, unable to keep yourself from pawing at your husband while he drives. Your belly keeps you from blowing him, and your mouth waters at the thought, getting your hand in his pants to make yourself feel better.

He’s fully hard by the time he’s parking in the garage at your house.

He helps you get out of the truck and up the couple of steps into the house. Once there are no more obstacles, Javi is on you, his mouth fusing to yours in a hungry kiss while his hands roam all over your body—grabbing handfuls of your ass, rubbing over your swollen stomach, and along your spine under his jacket as he safely guides you to the bedroom.

Your need for him is unreal by the time your giant bed is within reach, but there is one slight problem.

Breaking the kiss, you’re panting, about to speak, Javi beating you to it with a smile on his kiss-swollen lips as he asks, “You gotta pee?”

“Yes! I’m sorry!”

“It’s fine, baby.” He kisses you quickly, giving your ass a smack when he pulls back. “Get in there.”

“I love you!” you reply, turning on your heel and tossing his jacket onto the bed, waddling as quickly as you can to the en suite.

“I love you, too!” Javi calls to your back.

After emptying your bladder and thoroughly washing your hands, it’s go time, your body thrumming in anticipation.

The bedroom lights are dim as you make your way into it, finding your husband completely naked and standing beside the bed, chugging a bright red sports drink. The sight stops you in your tracks, pulling your lip between your teeth as you watch his throat work, wanting to lick up the column and nibble on his jaw.

“You ready?” His voice makes you jolt, so caught up in your thirsting over him you haven’t realized he finished drinking.

His eyes are dark when they meet yours, his lips glistening in the low light from spit and his drink.

Smiling, you answer, “Oh, yeah.” You point at the empty bottle in his hand. “Are you pregaming?” you ask.

He moves to set it on the bedside table.

“Gotta make sure I’m hydrated,” he replies, his attention solely on you, long strides having him in your space in seconds. His hands land on your hips, rubbing over the stretchy fabric of your dress, locking his gaze on yours. “I know you’re gonna keep me up all night.” Leaning in, he nudges his nose against your own. “Thank fuck you don’t work tomorrow.”

Your arms go around his neck, pushing your fingers into the hair at the back of his head, feeling the thick, soft strands.

“I know how we are,” you purr. “A big night—our anniversary, the house to ourselves, your wife so horny she’s had to change her underwear multiple times today. There’s not gonna be a lot of sleeping.”

“Mmm,” he hums, smiling, “I better take care of my wife then.” His big palms move down to squeeze your ass while his mouth presses into yours in a searing kiss, moaning when his tongue pushes between your lips to tangle with your own.

Arousal burns brightly in your belly, feeling your cunt throb and slick drip down your thighs. You want him with every fiber of your being—need to taste him, touch him, smell him, you need him, all of him, and you think you might explode if you don’t get his dick in your mouth as soon as possible.

He’s kissing your jaw, nipping at your chin.

“Wanna suck you off,” you pant.

“Whatever you want, Cielito,” he rasps, sucking on your pulse point.

You know he means it, too. With being pregnant, Javi always lets you be in control of these situations—you’re the one that calls the shots, and he makes it happen because only you know how you’re feeling and what you’re up for with your body changing day by day. Some days one position feels good, and the next, it doesn’t. Sometimes you can’t stand your breasts being touched, or everything hurts. There are too many variables, and Javi cares enough that all he wants is for you to be comfortable and actually enjoy yourself.

His hands go to the bottom of your dress, pulling it up and off your arms to be tossed on the floor.

“Tits?” he asks, resting a palm on your bare stomach and the other moving to your back, unclasping your bra with ease.

“Good to go,” you reply. “Just leaking.”

He nods in understanding, and then he’s moving, his mouth on yours, kissing you hard while he pulls off your bra to let it drop to the floor, his hands moving up the sides of your belly to palm your breasts. His fingers pluck at your wet nipples, making you moan at the jolts of pleasure shooting straight to your core. Kissing a trail down your neck and over your chest, ducking low to lick at one stiff peak, the warmth of his tongue making your toes curl. He’s groaning at your taste, moving to the other side to lave at the hard bud, licking them both clean.

Looking up at you through his lashes, there’s hardly any brown left, his voice lower and raspier as he says, “I hope you make too much milk again—fucking loved having to help.”

“I sure the fuck hope not,” you reply. “They hurt and were so swollen. I’d like to produce a normal amount of milk this time around; thank you very much.”

He sighs forlornly, frowning.

“Yeah, you’re right. Don’t want you going through that again.” Looking a little hopeful, he continues, “But if there’s too much for the baby or you get a blocked duct—”

“Yes, Javi,” you cut him off in exasperation, cupping his cheeks with your hands. ��You’re the man to call. Mr-Accidentally-Discovered-He-Has-A-Lactation-Kink-When-His-Wife-Forgot-Her-Pump-And-We-Were-Out-Of-Town-And-Away-From-Our-Baby.”

“Hey,” he pinches your hip. “It’s better I liked it than found it disgusting.”

“That’s a good point. Thank god you’re kinky.” You smirk with a wiggle of your eyebrows.

“Yeah.” His focus goes back to your breasts, his hands groping them. “Fuck, I love when you’re pregnant.”

“The bigger boobs?”

“The bigger tits.” He crouches down, running your fingers through his hair as he rubs over your swollen stomach. “You carrying my baby.” Leaning in, he presses kisses all over the bump. “You’re so fucking sexy,” he says into your skin. “I love how your body looks.” His fingers get under the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, him helping you step out of them.

“I’m huge—I can’t see my feet,” you reply.

“You’re sexy,” he corrects, standing with a groan. His eyes are on yours, grabbing your hand to press it to his dick, feeling him all hard and throbbing. “This is all you and how much I fucking love your pregnant body.”

Your fingers wrap around his length, his mouth falling open as you slowly stroke him.

It’s taking everything in you not to drop to your knees and start sucking him off, but you want to rile him up a bit.

“Yeah?” you purr. “You like knowing you fucked a baby into me?” His eyes close, groaning loudly as his cock twitches in your grasp, making you smile—oh, you got him. “You like me pregnant with your child? You wish you could keep me pregnant, Javi? Just keep knocking me up and having your babies—you want to breed me, baby?”

“Fuuuuuck.” The word is a drawn-out moan. His dick is weeping precum, your strokes getting slicker. He looks at you, seeing his throat bob as he swallows. “You’re playing fucking dirty.”

Grinning, you reply, “Me? Play dirty? Never. Exploiting your weaknesses? Always.”

His hands come up to caress your face as he crushes his lips to yours, kissing the breath right from your lungs. He wastes no time to get his tongue in your mouth, swallowing your moans as it slides along your own.

You feel a little dazed when his mouth leaves yours.

“You still wanna suck my dick?” he asks.

Opening your eyes, you answer, “Yes, please.”

“Knees or bed?”

“Knees.”

“You got it, Cielito.” He smiles, kissing you quickly before grabbing your hand and walking you toward the bed.

There’s an assortment of pillows at the end of the king-size bed, most normal, but one was specifically for sex—the wedge pillow was a lifesaver.

He grabs one of the regular fluffy ones, setting it on the floor and helping you kneel on it, thankful to have the cushion.

He’s standing in front of you, and you grab the backs of his thighs to make him come closer, Javi chuckling.

“You hungry for my dick, baby?” he asks.

His groin is at level with your face, reaching to take him in hand, feeling him hot and hard in your palm as you start stroking him. Looking up at him, you smile.

“We both know I’m always hungry for your dick—can’t get enough of it.”

“I know,” he says, crookedly smiling. “You gonna put it in your mouth?”

“Someone’s impatient tonight.”

“Someone wants to fuck your pussy.”

“You’re the only man on earth who’d turn down a sloppy blow job.”

He snorts, crossing his arms over his chest.

“'cause I’ve been inside you. Nothing compares.”

“That’s oddly romantic.”

“I love you a-whole-fucking-lot. Please, suck my dick, baby.”

“Impatient.”

You love teasing him and getting him all worked up.

“Horny,” he corrects. “You said all that fuckin’ shit, and now I can’t stop thinkin’ about it.”

“Sorry,” you say, not sounding apologetic at all.

His eyes narrow.

“You’re a dirty fucking liar.”

You give him a cheeky smile.

“You got me,” you giggle, and before he can say anything else, you’re licking up his shaft from root to tip, swirling your tongue around the head to get all of the sensitive spots.

His head falls back, groaning, you gathering spit on your tongue and letting it fall onto his dick before following it with your mouth, moaning as his thick girth slides inside to hit the back of your throat. It feels so good, bobbing your head, taking him as far as you can without swallowing around him.

His hands are on your head, rough sounds falling from his lips.

Coming off of him with a wet pop, you use your hand to wetly jerk him, keeping his cock out of the way, while your other hand cups his balls, lightly tugging to make Javi’s breath stutter. Looking up through your eyelashes, seeing him watching with his jaw slack.

“You’re so fucking good to me,” he pants.

You suck one into your mouth, gently massaging it with your tongue, getting it all nice and wet, and letting it pop out to give the other the same treatment.

“Jesus Christ, baby,” he groans, watching you make a show of licking all over his sack, leaving it shiny with spit when you move back up to take his dick into your mouth again.

You keep your eyes on his while your head moves up and down, feeling him heavy on your tongue, then licking from his base up to the head, suckling on him while fondling his balls, and moaning as you do so, having the time of your life.

“You’re so fucking beautiful sucking my dick,” he husks. “My beautiful, pregnant wife, fuck, I’m lucky.”

That flush you love is moving from his chest up along his neck, already staining his cheeks—a sheen of sweat glistens on his forehead and over his pecks, seeing drops starting to shine in the trail of hair below his belly button.

Javi looks gorgeous with his eyes glazed over, lips parted, his hands resting on the back of your head while watching in awe, clearly enjoying what you’re doing with the way his taste is getting stronger, his cock steadily leaking on your tongue.

He sounds wrecked when he says, “Fuck, Cielito, I fucking love you.”

It’s wet between your legs, the insides of your thighs coated in slick, feeling yourself throbbing, so turned on by what you’re doing.

What you love most about sucking your husband’s dick is getting to make him feel so good.

Obviously, he loves penetrative sex, which is undoubtedly his favorite, but with that, the focus was on you both. With oral, you get to focus solely on him, and pamper him, if you will. Let him relax and just enjoy himself, make him feel loved, and show that even after being married, having a kid, with another on the way, you’re still just as wildly horny for him as you were when you first started dating—even more so after getting to see him as a husband and becoming a father.

Javier Peña is a certified DILF, the elite of the elite, and dear god, is it so fucking sexy, to the point that you can’t keep your hands off of him.

It’s sloppy. There’s no finesse with how you’re bobbing your head, his hard cock sliding in and out with ease. Your hands move to grab onto the globes of his ass, squeezing the flesh while his eyes are on yours as you enthusiastically suck him off.

The muscles in his abdomen are tensing, his breathing getting harder, and it doesn’t surprise you when he’s saying, “Shit, shit, fuck, you’re gonna make me come—wanna come inside your pussy.” He gently pulls you off of him, a line of saliva and precum connecting you to him, your chin wet, spit having fallen onto your chest and breasts, his cock shining in the low light.

His hand goes to grasp your chin, rubbing his thumb over your wet bottom lip, looking at each other. You suck it into your mouth, digging your fingers into his asscheeks.

“Baby,” he gasps.

It leaves your mouth with a ‘pop,’ you smiling.

“You wanna fuck me, Javi?” you ask in a sultry tone.

Nodding his head, his voice is rough when he answers, “Yes.”

“Help me up.” You hold up your hands to him, a soft smile on his face as he helps pull you up, your palm going to your belly.

He’s suddenly touching the swell of your stomach, asking, “Is she sleeping?”

“Yeah.” You nod. “Must’ve worn herself out. She’s been really active today. Thought she was learning karate with how she was punching and kicking.”

He frowns.

“You should’ve said something,” he replies. “I would’ve helped calm her down.”

You wave away his words.

“It’s good for her to get some exercise, and as long as she’s not hitting my organs, it’s fine. Plus, it was father-son yard work day, and you guys were having so much fun.”

Javi has a carrier to strap your toddler to his back, using it when he mowed the lawn while you were tending to your small garden. He had to set up the sprinkler to water the grass, your son begging to play in it, and so you’d sat on the back porch drinking lemonade and watching them in their swimming trunks, having the best time playing in the spray.

Smiling fondly, he says, “Yeah. We need to make a trip to the city so I can go to Toys ‘R Us. I wanna get him a toy lawnmower and see if they’ve got anything else he’d like.”

“Your dad will have to babysit him.”

“Why? He should be there.”

“Because you’ll end up buying the entire store, Javier. You are fucking weak to those big brown eyes of his. One look, and you fold faster than a beach chair in a hurricane. We will go bankrupt if we take our tiny child to a giant toy store.”

He frowns, sighing.

“Fuck, you’re right. I can’t say no.”

You cup his cheek.

“I know it’s hard. You just have to build up your immunity to the Peña puppy dog eyes.”

“Yeah?”

“Yep.”

“That why I can’t get away with shit anymore? You’re immune?”

“I had to build up my defenses. If I didn’t, we would probably be on baby number four by now with the way you get baby fever, and we wouldn’t know what sleep is. One of us needs to have self-control.”

“I’m not seeing how being on our fourth kid is a bad thing…”

You snort.

“You’re not the one who has to grow a human inside of you, and I’m exhausted at just the thought of four kids under five. I’m happy we’re at one and a half. Now, I’ll be back—” you pat his cheek. “—I gotta pee again.”

He smiles, replying, “Of course.” He nods, giving you a quick kiss before you make your way to the bathroom.

Both of you are used to the pauses when getting down and dirty. They are necessary when it feels like you have to relieve your bladder every five minutes.

When you return, you’re feeling much better, your hands clean, and Javi is crowding you to kiss you fervently, his hands moving all over your body—palming your breasts, grabbing your ass, feeling your stomach. He’s walking you toward the bed, anticipation swelling inside you, digging your fingers into the backs of his shoulders, wanting him so badly you’re aching needily between your legs.

Standing at the edge of the bed, your husband’s mouth comes off of yours to ask, “What sounds good? Want me to eat you out? Or do you want dick?”

Sparks skitter down your spine, having to think quickly because his mouth does feel really good, but the thought of him inside you has you clenching hard around nothing.

“Dick,” you answer.

Smirking, he asks, “How do you want it?”

There aren’t many choices, and you’re too tired to be on top.

“Spooning sounds nice.”

He kisses you, then moves to set up pillows at the head of the bed. He helps you get up onto it to lay on your left side with your head on a pillow, making sure you’re comfortable by grabbing the wedge to put it beneath your belly to prop it up and keep your back and hips from hurting, allowing you to relax.

Soon he’s moving in behind you, the line of his body flush to yours, ghosting his fingers up your thigh and along your side, leaning his head close to whisper in your ear.

“Comfortable?”

“Very.”

“Good.”

He grabs your top leg to move it up onto his in order to open you up, sliding his hand between your thighs, moaning when he pushes his fingers through your folds.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says.

His digits circle your perky little clit, making you gasp at the shocks of arousal igniting in your center.

He presses his lips close to your ear, feeling his hot breaths.

“Another thing I like about you pregnant,” he rasps. “Is you’re always ready to fucking go.” He pushes two fingers inside of you, loving the slight stretch, him feeling how soaked you are. “I fucking love eating your pussy or using my fingers—” He languidly pumps them. “—to get you off before we fuck. You know I love foreplay. But the times when all I can think about is getting my dick inside of you, it’s nice that you’re good to go.”

“You’ve got pussy on demand.”

He huffs out an amused breath.

“I do. You’ve got dick on demand.”

You wiggle your ass against his hardness.

“I do, and as you’ve said, I’m ready to fucking go, so please put it in me.”

“Who’s impatient now?” He sounds amused, his hand leaving you.

“Horny,” you correct. “Put it in, Javier.”

He chuckles, placing a kiss on your neck, then your shoulder.

“What my wife wants, she gets,” he says, feeling him moving behind you.

“Your wife wants your dick.”

The thick head of his cock presses to your entrance.

“You can have it,” he says as he pushes in.

Your eyes roll back in your head, moaning loudly, him filling you inch by glorious inch, stretching you open, sliding in with one smooth thrust—loving how full you feel when he bottoms out. Your fingers are clawing at the bed, him pulling out almost all the way and pushing back in, doing it over and over, groaning behind you.

His hand is on your belly, and you grab it, lacing your fingers over the swell, Javi slowly fucking into you, slickly sliding in and out.

You’re so sensitive that the familiar heat is already growing in the base of your spine, knowing you aren’t going to last. That was a somewhat nice side effect of pregnancy: the sensitivity and ease of getting off from penetration alone. It had been a shock the first time it’d happened with your first pregnancy, coming in less than five minutes.

“You feel so fucking good, hermosa,” Javi husks. “Gonna fuck you full of me. You want that? Want me to fuck you full of my come? Want me to fuck another baby in you?”

“Javi,” you moan, your cunt clenching around him, a wave of slick dripping out and soaking his cock. “You already knocked me up.”

His hips speed up, pounding into you hard enough to make your ass jiggle.

“I did,” he says. “And I wanna do it again.”

His words have you feeling hot, ramping you up, getting closer and closer, feeling the build inside of you.

You’re pressing back against him, your noises getting louder.

“You like it,” he continues, kissing your shoulder. “You like carrying my children.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Love having your babies.”

“I’ll give you another.”

Your brain is fuzzy with pleasure at the thought of him getting you pregnant again, your pussy starting to spasm.

“However many you want,” he adds. “We can fill every fucking room in this big ass house. Fuck, we can buy a bigger one.”

It’s too much, everything he’s saying and how he’s fucking you causing you to crest, fireworks exploding behind your eyelids as you come with a shout of his name. Your body clenches up so tight that his pace slows to a grind, feeling every vein and ridge along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck,” he groans, “My good fucking girl.”

Euphoria is spreading through your system, feeling so fucking good, breathing hard.

A sharp jab of pain erupts in your abdomen, making you hiss out, “Owe!” Followed by another and another. “Fuck, that hurts,” you whine.

Javi is pulling out of you immediately, making you gasp from the sudden loss.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, his head coming up to look at the side of your face.

“No. Your child is pissed off,” you say through your teeth, your ribs starting to get sore.

“Shit.” His hand unclasps from yours, Javi sitting up and leaning over your body, rubbing over your big belly. There’s a grumpy look on his face, “Bebita, te pedí que te portadas bien para tu mamá (Baby girl, I asked you to be good for your mom),” he gently scolds. “Lo siento que te despertamos pero no significa que tú puedes dañarla (I’m sorry we woke you up but it doesn’t mean you can hurt her).”

“It’s okay, Javi,” you sigh, the baby already starting to calm down.

His eyes meet yours, a deep frown on his lips.

“I don’t want you in pain.” He looks back at your stomach, his palm still moving along your skin. “And my daughter is going to be on her best behavior for the rest of the night.”

You huff out a breath.

“Dream on, babe. She’s your daughter.”

“She is my daughter.” He smiles. “And she’ll listen to her Papá when I ask really fucking nicely for her to please let me fuck her mom without interruption.”

“Javier!”

“She doesn’t understand me.”

“Still.”

He sighs.

“Te queremos, bebita (I love you, baby girl). Cálmate (Calm down). Todo está bien, te lo prometo (Everything is okay, I promise).” He glances at you. “Is it better?” he asks.

“Pretty sure you could make millions if you offered this as a service, just calming people’s babies. We’d be rich.”

He chuckles.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yep. She’s as cool as a cucumber.”

“Thank god—I’m not done with you.” The bed jostles as he moves, Javi grabbing your hips from behind. “I need you to get up on your hands and knees, baby,” he says, helping you move into position. He stuffs a couple of pillows under your stomach for support, you leaning down to rest on your forearms and widening your legs apart.

Quickly, he’s behind you, grabbing handfuls of your ass.

“Is this okay? Are you comfortable? Need more pillows?” he asks.

Looking over your shoulder, you smile.

“I’m comfy,” you answer. “‘Speak, friend, and enter.’”

His face pinches.

“Did you just quote fucking Lord of the Rings?”

“Yeah, and you can’t give me shit about it because you made us watch both movies the day they came out, you fucking nerd.”

“Wanted to beat the crowds.” He shrugs.

Your eyes narrow.

“Right. Put your dick in me.”

One of his hands grabs his hard cock, sliding it through the sticky moisture of your cunt and notching it at your sopping opening.

He has an amused look on his face as he stares down at what he’s doing.

“Mellon,” he says, and before you can respond, he’s sinking in and stealing your breath, your mouth falling open.

He goes deeper and deeper, your pussy contracting around him like you’re trying to suck him in and keep him there for all of eternity.

“You’re so deep,” you moan, resting your head between your arms on the bed.

His hips finally meet the flesh of your ass, his fingers gripping your waist.

“Is it too much?” he asks, his voice strained.

“No, feels good.”

He starts slow, and it warms your heart because you know he’s making sure that there isn’t any pain, and there isn’t—it feels so fucking good the way his thick cock carves out space in your inner depths.

He starts picking up pace, your breasts slightly bouncing, him working you up, feeling the threads of your orgasm making itself known and curling in your gut.

You’re panting, every nerve in your body alight in pleasure, electricity humming under your skin.

Adjusting his angle has him rubbing against something heavenly that has you gasping out fuck.

“There it fucking is,” Javi grunts, focusing on the spot, snapping his hips faster, harder, every thought leaving your brain except for how amazing he was making you feel. “You gonna come for me, baby?”

The strong, steady thrusts have you drooling, the muscles in your belly tightening. His hands squeeze your asscheeks while he pistons in and out of you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans.

Your thighs are quivering, so close you can taste your end, chanting Javi’s name, getting louder and louder.

“Scream my name, Cielito, let the whole fucking town know how good I fuck you,” he says through gritted teeth, hearing the wet squelch of your pussy taking him.

It feels like something big is building inside you, your body trembling, Javi’s name becoming incoherent sobs from your lips. There’s a chance you’re going to explode, the pleasure growing, expanding, it taking over all of your senses.

“I know you’re close, baby,” he grunts. “Let me fucking have it, and I’ll give you my come—fuck you full of it. Fill you to the goddamn brim.”

Everything winds up tighter and tighter, feeling like you want to pull him in as deep as possible but also push him out from how intense it feels.

His hand moves to your front, massaging the ripe berry of your clit.

“Fuck!” you scream, shattering around him, coming so hard it pushes Javi out with a wet gush, splattering onto the bedspread.

“Oh, fuck, baby,” he moans. “That’s my good fucking girl, drenching me.” One of his hands rubs comfortingly along your spine. “Shit, that’s good—so fucking sexy, Cielito, almost makin’ me come.”

You’re shaking uncontrollably, the pleasure overwhelming you, your brain mush, head empty, zero thoughts.

He only gives you a second before sheathing himself back inside you, fucking hard and fast, drawing out your high. He’s close, his hands on your hips in a death grip, grunting in exertion as he rails.

“I fucking love you,” he pants. “Love you so fucking much.” Moans are stuttering from your throat, feeling like your orgasm just keeps going. “The best fucking wife,” he says. “The best mother to my kids. Fuck, I love you.”

He blankets over your back, his mouth at your ear, hearing his harsh breaths, him rutting into you to chase his own high, the wet sounds obscene between your legs.

Shoving his face in your neck, he pushes his dick in as deep as possible, raggedly moaning, “Te amo.” His head moves, sinking his teeth in your shoulder as he comes, a rumbling groan bubbling from his chest, feeling the hot spurts of his come filling you, rolling his hips to fuck it as far inside of you as he can get.

He needs a moment to catch his breath, not putting any weight on you. He pulls out, flopping down on the bed beside you, bringing you with him to cuddle on your left side, curling around your back, rubbing your tummy with his broad palm.

“Happy anniversary, Cielito,” he whispers, kissing the skin of your shoulder.

“Happy anniversary, Javi,” you croak.

“Feelin’ okay?” he asks.

“Feel fucking fantastic,” you answer, smiling dreamily.

The baby starts moving.

Javi’s hand stops.

“She hit me,” he says in awe, pushing down a little.

“I think that’s her foot, babe,” you reply.

“She kicked me. Again.”

“Better you than my organs.”

He chuckles, excitedly getting up with a groan. You’re thankful you guys have such a huge bed, your husband easily moving to your other side, laying with his head next to your belly, his legs hanging off the mattress.

He moves his other hand to the same spot, feeling her kicking away, him now able to kiss over where she was lying inside you.

“Such strong kicks, preciosa,” he cooed. “You gonna be a soccer player like your Papá?”

“Javi, you hated playing soccer.”

“She could like it. Be better than me. Isn’t that right, bebita?” The baby kicked his hand hard. “See, mi amor? She agrees.”

“Right…”

“Your mom has her doubts,” he says to your belly. “But I know you’re gonna do great things ‘cause you’re mi bendición (my blessing), and I love you so fucking much.”

Your eyes start to burn, sliding your fingers into his hair to play with it while listening as Javi keeps talking to her—guessing what she’ll be like or what she’ll enjoy, if she’ll be anything like her brother, or either of you two. It’s soft and sweet, and you’re so fucking happy that the tears started falling, thankful to have this man as your partner and the father of your children.

“I love you, Javi,” you whisper.

His head tilts up, smiling at you.

“I love you, too, Cielito. Thank you.”

“No, thank you.”

Series Masterlist - Masterlist

Thank you for reading! If you’d like to be tagged in my fics, please fill out the form in my bio, on my masterlist, or just let me know!

Tagging: @theorganasolo @nicolethered @lola766 @nessamc @vanemando15 @fiscinthirst @melancholyy-hill @hnt-escape @sherala007 @jadesabre83 @rainbeaubrightchild @blub-senpai @pedrohoe04 @theherothesavior @captain-creampuff @javiersjeans @zetasaturno99 @amb11 @lovedbyth3sun @siidereeus @marvelousmermaid @mrszdjarin @themarcusmoreno @woomen23 @ms-loverman-066 @star-wars-fan-2005 @kissing-stars @chloeinpink @notyourlovemonkey @unofficialavenger90 @fictionismyreality @sheetsof-lennon @damnyoupedro @katareyoudrilling @iamskyereads @enjoyourlattebitch @daddydindjarin @absurdthirst @kirsteng42 @littlemisspascal @athalien @thevoiceinyourheadx @elegantduckturtle @harriedandharassed @girlofchaos @mswarriorbabe80 @theewokingdead @guess-my-next-obsession

#pedro pascal #Javier Peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña/reader #javier peña smut #wheresarizona writes #learning to live series

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mostlysignssomeportents · 4 months

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Brinklump Linkdump

Catch me in Miami! I'll be at Books and Books in Coral Gables on Jan 22 at 8PM.

Life comes at you fast, links come at you faster. Once again, I've arrived at Saturday with a giant backlog of links I didn't fit in this week, so it's time for a linkdump, the 14th in the series:

https://pluralistic.net/tag/linkdump/

It's the Year of Our Gourd twenty and twenty-four and holy shit, is rampant corporate power rampant. On January 1, the inbred droolers of Big Pharma shat out their annual price increases, as cataloged in 46Brooklyn's latest Brand Drug List Price Change Box Score:

https://www.46brooklyn.com/branddrug-boxscore

Here's the deal: drugs that have already been developed, brought to market, and paid off are now getting more expensive. Why? Because the pharma companies have "pricing power," the most reliable indicator of monopoly. Ed Cara rounds up the highlights for Gizmodo:

https://gizmodo.com/ozempic-wegovy-wellbutrin-oxycontin-drug-price-increase-1851179427

What's going up? Well, Ozempic and other GLP-1 agonists. These drugs have made untold billions for their manufacturers, so naturally, they're raising the price. That's how markets work, right? When firms increase the volume of a product, the price goes up? Right? Other drugs that are going up include Wellbutrin (an antidepressant that's also widely used in smoking cessation) and the blood thinner Plavix. I mean, why the hell not? These companies get billions in research subsidies, invaluable government patent privileges, and near-total freedom to abuse the patent system with evergreening:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/23/everorangeing/#taste-the-rainbow

The most amazing things about monopolies is how the contempt just oozes out of them. It's like these guys can't even pretend to give a shit. You want guillotines? Because that's how you get guillotines.

Take Apple. They just got their asses handed to them in court by Epic, who successfully argued that Apple's rule requiring everyone who sells through the App Store to use Apple's payment processor and pay Apple 30% out of every dollar they bring in was an antitrust violation. Epic won, then won the appeal, then SCOTUS told Apple they wouldn't hear the case, so that's that.

Right? Wrong. Apple's pulled a malicious compliance stunt that could shame the surly drunks my great-aunt Lisa used to boss in the Soviet electrical engineering firm she ran. Apple has announced that app companies that process transactions using their own payment processors on the web must still pay Apple a 27% fee for every dollar their process:

https://finance.yahoo.com/news/apples-app-store-rule-changes-draw-sharp-rebuke-from-critics-150047160.html

In addition, Apple will throw a terrifying FUD-screen up every time a user clicks a payment link that goes to the web:

https://www.jwz.org/blog/2024/01/second-verse-same-as-the-first/

This is obviously not what the court had in mind, and there's no way this will survive the next court challenge. It's just Apple making sure that everyone knows it hates us all and wants us to die. Thanks, Tim Apple, and right back atcha.

Not to be outdone in the monopolistic mustache-twirling department, Ubisoft just announced that it is going to shut down its driving simulator game The Crew, which it sold to users with a "perpetual license":

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VIqyvquTEVU

This is some real Darth Vader MBA shit. "Yeah, we sold you a 'perpetual license' to this game, but we're terminating it. I have altered the deal. Pray I don't alter it further":

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/26/hit-with-a-brick/#graceful-failure

Ubisoft sure are innovators. They've managed the seemingly impossible feat of hybridizing Darth Vader and Immortan Joe. Ubisoft's head of subscriptions, the guillotine-ready Philippe Tremblay, told GamesIndustry.biz that gamers need to get "comfortable" with "not owning their games":

https://www.gamesindustry.biz/the-new-ubisoft-and-getting-gamers-comfortable-with-not-owning-their-games

Or, as Immortan Joe put it: "Do not, my friends, become addicted to water. It will take hold of you, and you will resent its absence!"

Capitalism without constraint is enshittification's handmaiden, and the latest victim is Ello, the "indie" social media startup that literally promised – on the sacred honor of its founders – that it would never sell out its users. When Ello took VC and Andy Baio questioned how this could be squared with this promise, the founders mocked him and others for raising the question. Their response boiled down to "we are super-chill dudes and you can totally trust us."

They raised more capital, and used that to create a nice place for independent artists, who piled into the platform and provided millions of unpaid hours of creative labor to help the founders increase its value. The founders and their investors turned the company into a Public Benefit Corporation, which meant they had an obligation to serve the public benefit.

But then they took more investment money and simply (and silently) sold their assets to a for-profit. Struggling to raise capital, the founders opted to secretly sell the business to a sleazy branding company called Talenthouse. Its users didn't know about the change, though the site sure had a lot of Talenthouse design competitions all of a sudden.

Finally, the company announced the change as the last founders left. Rather than announcing that the new owners were untrustworthy scum, warning their users to get their data and get out, the founders posted oblique, ominous statements to Instagram. The company started stiffing the winners of those design competitions. Then, one day, poof, Ello disappeared, taking all its users' data with it. Poof:

https://waxy.org/2024/01/the-quiet-death-of-ellos-big-dreams/

I'm sure the founders' decisions each seemed reasonable at the moment. That's every terrible situation arises: you rationalize that a single compromise isn't that big of a deal, and then you do the same for the next compromise, and the next, and the next. Pretty soon, you're betraying everyone who believed in you.

One answer to this is "Ulysses pacts": making binding commitments to do right before you are tempted. Throw away all your Oreos when you go on a diet and you can't be tempted to eat a whole sleeve of them at 2AM. License your software under the GPL and your investors can't force you to make it proprietary. Set up a warrant canary and the feds can't force you to keep their spying secret:

https://locusmag.com/2021/01/cory-doctorow-neofeudalism-and-the-digital-manor/

If the founders were determined to build a trustworthy, open, independent company, they could have published their quarterly books, livestreamed their staff meetings, built data-export tools that emailed users every week with a link to download everything they'd posted since the last week. Merely halting any of these practices would have been a signal that things were wrong. Anyone who says they won't be tempted in the moment to make a "reasonable" compromise in the hopes of recovering whatever they're trading away by living to fight another day is bullshitting you, and possibly themself.

The inability to project the consequences of your bad decisions in the future is the source of endless mischief and heartbreak. Take movie projectors. A couple decades ago, the studio cartel established a standard for digital movie distribution to cinematic exhibitors called the Digital Cinema Initiative. Because studio executives are more worried about stopping piracy than they are about making sure that people who pay for movies get to see them, they build digital rights management into this standard.

Movie theaters had to spend fortunes to upgrade to "secure" projectors. A single vendor, Deluxe Technicolor, monopolized the packaging of movies into "Digital Cinema Prints" for distribution to these projectors, and they used all kinds of dirty tricks to force distributors to use their services, like arbitrarily flunking third-party DCPs over picky shit like not starting and ending on a black frame.

Over time, the ability to use unencrypted files was stripped away, meaning every DCP needed to be encrypted, and every projector needed to have up-to-date decryption keys. This system broke down on Jan 1, 2024, and cinemas all over the world found they couldn't play Wonka. Many just shut down for the day and refunded their customers:

https://www.theverge.com/2024/1/1/24021915/alamo-drafthouse-outage-sony-projector

The problem? Something that every PKI system has to wrangle: an expired certificate from Deluxe Technicolor. The failure has been dubbed the Y2K24 debacle by projectionists and film-techs, who are furious:

http://www.film-tech.com/vbb/forum/main-forum/34652-the-y2k24-bug-major-digital-outage-today

Making everything worse is that Sony mothballed the division that maintains its projectors, so there's no one who can update them to accommodate Technicolor's workaround. Struggling mom-and-pop theaters are having to junk their systems and replace them. There's plenty of blame to go around, but Sony is definitely the most negligent link in the chain. Shame on them.

Big corporations LARP this performance of competence and seriousness, but they are deeply unserious. This week, I wrote, "we're nowhere near a place where bots can steal your job, we're certainly at the point where your boss can be suckered into firing you and replacing you with a bot that fails at doing your job":

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/15/passive-income-brainworms/#four-hour-work-week

Score one for team deeply unserious. The multinational delivery company DPD fired its support staff and replaced them with a chatbot. The chatbot can't tell you where your parcels are, but it can be prompt-injected into coming up with profane poems about how badly DPD sucks:

https://twitter.com/ashbeauchamp/status/1748034519104450874

There once was a chatbot named DPD, Who was useless at providing help. It could not track parcels, Or give information on delivery dates, And it could not even tell you when your driver would arrive.

DPD was a waste of time, And a customer's worst nightmare. It was so bad, That people would rather call the depot directly, Than deal with the useless chatbot.

One day, DPD was finally shut down, And everyone rejoiced. Finally, they could get the help they needed, From a real person who knew what they were doing.

This is…the opposite of an AI hallucination? It's AI clarity.

As with all botshit, this kind of AI self-negging is funny and fresh the first time you see it, but just wait until 3,000 people have published their own versions to your social feed. AI novelty regresses to the mean damn quickly.

The old, good web, by contrast, was full of enduring surprises, as the world's weirdest and most delightful mutants filled the early web with every possible variation on every possible interest, expression, argument, and gag. Now, you can search the old, good web with Old'aVista, an Altavista lookalike that searches old pages from "personal websites that used to be hosted on services like Geocities, Angelfire, AOL, Xoom and so on," all ganked from the Internet Archive:

http://oldavista.com/

I miss the old, good internet and the way it let weirdos find each other and get seriously weird with one another. Think of steampunk, a subculture that wove together artists, makers, costumers, fiction writers, and tinkerers in endlessly creative ways. My old pal Roger Wood was the world's most improbable steampunk: he was a gay ex-navy gunner who grew up in a small town in the maritimes but moved to Toronto where he became the world's most accomplished steampunk clockmaker.

I was Roger's neighbour for a decade. He died last year, and I miss him all the time. I was in Toronto in December and saw a few of his last pieces being sold in galleries and I was just skewered on the knowledge that I'd never see him again, never visit his workshop:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/16/klockwerks/#craphound

A reader just sent this five-year-old mini documentary about Roger, shot in his wonderful workshop. Watching it made me happy and sad and then happy again:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eqMGomM8yF8

The old, good internet was so great. It was a place where every kind of passion could live. It was a real testament to the power of geeking out together, no matter how often the suits demand that we "stop talking to each other and start buying things":

https://catvalente.substack.com/p/stop-talking-to-each-other-and-start

The world is full of people with weird passions and I love them all, mostly. Learning about Don Bolles's collection of decades' worth of lost pet posters was a moment of pure joy (I just wish more of it was online):

https://ameliatait.substack.com/p/the-man-who-collects-lost-pet-posters

That's the future I was promised: one where every kind of freak can find every other kind of freak. Despite the nipple-deep botshit we wade through online, and the relentless cheapening of words like "innovation" and "future," there are still occasional gleams of the future I want to live in.

Like the researchers who spliced a photosynthesis gene into brewer's yeast (a fungus) and got it to photosynthesize, and to display enhanced fitness:

https://www.cell.com/current-biology/fulltext/S0960-9822(23)01744-X

As Doug Muir writes on Crooked Timber, this is pretty kooky! Fungi – the coolest of the kingdoms! – can't photosynthesize. The idea that you can just add the photosynthesis gene to a thing that can't photosynthesize and have it just kind of work is wild!

https://crookedtimber.org/2024/01/19/occasional-paper-purple-sun-yeast/

As Muir writes: "Animals have no evolutionary history of photosynthesis and aren’t designed for it, but the same is true for yeast. So… no reason this shouldn’t be possible. A photosynthesizing cat? Sure, why not."

Why not indeed?!

OK, that's this week's linkdump done and dusted. It only remains for me to share the news with you that the trolley problem has been finally and comprehensively solved, by [email protected], of the IWW IU 520 (railroad workers):

Slip the switch by flipping it while the trolley's front wheels have passed through, but before the back wheels do. This will cause a controlled derailment bringing the trolley to a safe halt.

https://kolektiva.social/@sidereal/111779015415697244

I'm Kickstarting the audiobook for The Bezzle, the sequel to Red Team Blues, narrated by @wilwheaton! You can pre-order the audiobook and ebook, DRM free, as well as the hardcover, signed or unsigned. There's also bundles with Red Team Blues in ebook, audio or paperback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/20/melange/#i-have-heard-the-mermaids-singing

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nogenderbee · 2 months

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♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕀 𝕝𝕠𝕧𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦- ℕ𝕆 𝕎𝔸𝕀𝕋 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @nenes-numberonefan request: HELLOOO

ima request the same thing i requested @/mizu-nights but i’m a silly goose and i wanna see everyone’s style of writing

basically can i request rui, nene and tsukasa x reader (separate) and they have a platonic relationship with our beloved y/n but then they accidentally confess their love to the reader, sort of like the verse “the time is right your perfume fills my head the stars are red and oh the nights so blue, and then i go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like i love you ❤️” from the song something stupid. thank youuu xxxxxx love youuuuuu 😍😍😍🥶😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍(very hyper rn)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ HIIII!! Yeah absolutely! I don't tho songfics normally tho, so I just based on your description and hopefully that's gonna be good enough!

But omg, the moment I saw this, I wanted to run to mizu-nights and read it because I apparently missed this fic- but NOPE I didn't wanted to accidentally write the same thing sooo I held myself back ^^

I totally did not copy lines from event for Tsukasa part-

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ fluff

Affiliation with @virtualbookstore

You've agreed to help Tsukasa with practicing for his upcoming performance, Romeo&Julia. He got the role of Romeo while his other friend from troupe got Julia. He just wanted someone to help him get that feeling of saying it right to soemone's face and... maybe he had planned something more too?

"O Juliet! Sun of my life! I beg of you, allow me your fair hand in marriage!!"

He was now on his one knee, holding your hand like pure gentleman with his left hand. This made you both happy and regretful for agreeing to help him... it's obviously very sweet to see him like this but it's also not helping your feelings for him... and you could swear you're blushing...

"Sweet Y/N...!"

But then he said your name... and you finally looked at him just to see him clearly in state of daydreaming, not stopping reciting next lines, so you had to stop him before he gives more hints than you can handle!

"Wait, wait... wasn't the second main character's name Juliet? Why did you say my name...?"

His face immidietly gained red hue and his hand didn't stop holding your gently. His eyes still looked focused on yours as if he haven't woke up from his dreamland, but his words told you his state was something completely else than you imagined...

"Y-Yes I know..."

You could only stare at him in slight shock... you didn't knew what to say and so did he. He was barely holding himself from turning it into a play someway... but he repeated one sentence in his head, "go big or go home", if he blurted it out, might as well go along?

"O Y/N, sun of my life, I beg of you, allow me to take you on a date!"

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bad-the-an-enjoyer @yulikesminori @alicewinterway18 @nenes-numberonefan - come get your future star!

You and Nene were hanging out on a rooftop at Kamiyama. Even if you're from Miyamasuzaka, let's say Emu teached you a trick or two~ So either way, you can enjoy your time with your dear friend!

You leaned in, wanting to see what she's playing and for once, instead of seeing shooting or rhythm game, you found her playing some... visual novel? Or was it otome game?

"Hey Nene? Are you playing... otome game?"

"Mhm, yeah."

She responded, clearly way into the game to process what she's saying. But that never was a problem for you since she still responded and was honest if anything when she was in this state.

"Look, you can even name your love interest~"

You looked at the screen with even more interest and saw 2 names... "Nene" and "Y/N". You get why her name would be here but yours? Were you... no way, right?

"Is... is Y/N the name of your... ingame love interest?"

"Yeah, real love interest too."

She finally looked up from her phone right at you with this soft and charming smile, when she saw your blush she was even confused for a second! Untill she realized... she just blurted it out, didn't she?

"Oh- uh- I mean... not like... Like..."

Now it was her blushing like crazy not knowing what to say... she was clearly between 2 thoguhts and had no idea which to choose... oh did you know it was all about if she should tell you the truth or a lie...

"Am I actually~?"

You couldn't help but encourage her a bit, hoping to hear the truth. If she actually saw YOU as the love interest, the real one! Or... if it's just a misunderstanding...

And luckily, you didn't had to wait for long because right after your question, she gave you a little nod, easy to miss if you blinked... but her blushing face and the way she looked away would tell you it either way~

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @bl4cktourmaline @nenes-numberonefan - come get your shy gamer~

Rui has texted you he forgot his coat from his house. And you as good friend, agreed to bring it to Pheonix Wonderland. He made sure you get a free ticket after all! So how could you say no to free fun at amusement park AND helping out your dear friend?

When you finally arrived at the Wonder Stage, you saw him tinkering with the robot, untill he heard someone's footsteps... his mood immidietly lighting up once he saw it's you!

"You're finally here! And I see you got my coat with you~ I can't express how glad I am for your help~"

"Don't mention it! You offered me a free ticket for that so how could I've said now?!"

He chuckled and finally came over to get his coat back, which you gave him back. And in another second, he had it on!

"But still, you're a great person for bringing it to me at THIS HOUR."

"Awh~ Don't you melt here or I'm gonna melt too!"

You couldn't brush off how sweet it was and opened your arms for quick friendly hug, since you clearly had a bit of appreciation moment going on.

"No, I mean it... you're such a sweetheart... I really couldn't avoid falling for you~"

"Huh-? What?"

After your questioning, he finally got a hang of himself pulling away with faint blush, clearly not knowing what to do. But his first reflex was to lie...

"I-I mean..."

But he seemed to stop himself... he realized lying would only make it last longer... so he decided to pull himself together, take big breath in and take the risk.

"Yes... I'm really sorry. I'm aware this is probably gonna break our friendship but... I indeed did fell for you..."

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@bleachtheidiot @akitosheart @yulikesminori @toyaswif3y @bl4cktourmaline @r4wrclwz @superstar-ethereal - come get your crazy inventor~

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mypoisonedvine · 2 years

Text

𝙼𝙴𝙴𝚃 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙼𝚄𝙽𝚂𝙾𝙽𝚂 - chapter 3: louder than hell.

𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚜 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢 - living with eddie continues to have its ups and downs, but maybe you two can find an understanding. or, maybe not.

𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝 - 5.3k

𝚌𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜 - mentions/description of deceased parents, descriptions of drug use/smoking, mentions/description of hard drug abuse and overdose, ridiculous sibling arguments, fluff and wholesomeness and excessive transcription of scenes from a real episode of the partridge family

You groaned as you wiped your forehead with the back of your hand, a thin sheen of sweat having formed from all the effort you’d been putting into trying to clean your room.

Eddie had all but trashed the place, random junk all over every surface; he seemed to have a habit of setting something down the first spot he could find when he was done and just leaving it there. When you told him to clean up, he usually ignored you— or pretended not to hear you since he either had headphones on to listen to a tape or was practicing his deafening guitar— so you’d gotten into a habit of doing it yourself. You were on your knees on the ground now, trying to separate the dirty clothes, unfinished homework, and trash into three different piles.

“Liquor store receipt, trash,” you mumbled to yourself. “First page of an essay about… General Custer? Homework. I mean, kind of trash but… technically homework.”

You made your way around the room, eventually getting to clear off your desk and vanity; of course, when he got home from Hellfire, you were doing the one thing you didn’t want him to catch you doing— thinning out the shelf of albums. You were in the middle of pulling one of his records out when he slammed his hand over it to push it back in. “Hey!” he yelped, glaring at you. “Don’t touch my stuff!”

“My room, my stuff,” you replied, trying to pull another record out, but he grabbed your hand this time which startled you.

“Our room,” he corrected, “my albums. No touchy.”

“Your records are crowding mine!” you explained. “There’s no room!”

“Yeah? Your records are tainting mine!” he replied indignantly. “I mean, Escape and Frontiers I’ll forgive, Journey has a few bangers but come on— your Make It Big next to my Animalize is criminal. It’s going to infect it with its… suckiness, somehow.”

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you there because George Michael is a god,” you sneered, “that your little pea brain simply can’t comprehend!”

“George Michael is a hack!” he spat back, and you gasped— like he’d put out his cigarette on a statue of baby Jesus or something. Except that this was infinitely worse.

“You take that back,” you ordered.

“Prove me wrong,” he offered instead, “or admit you just think he’s hot and don’t even care about the music.”

“Oh— oh!” you yelped, laughing in pure frustration as you turned and knelt down in front of the stacks of records. “I’ll prove you wrong.”

“I swear, if you try to make me listen to Wake Me Up Before You Go-Go—” he began to warn you.

“No, no way,” you shook your head, “we’re listening to his masterpiece.”

The drums started, and already Eddie was trying to turn the record player off.

“No,” you insisted— not quite a bark, but very stern— as you grabbed his arms. He stilled and looked at you again, swallowing as your fingers dug into the sleeves of his jacket. “Just listen. Wait for the bass line.”

It came in a second later. You watched his face as he listened: he didn’t react too visibly, but you waited in anticipation for him to be forced to eat his words.

“Somebody told me—” the lyrics began, in George’s beautiful voice, and you saw Eddie’s eyes narrow. The bass was more prominent as the first verse continued, and you smiled as Eddie nodded slightly.

“Okay, that’s…” he trailed off, smiling as he met your gaze. “That’s actually kinda sick.”

“I know!” you agreed.

“Man, that bass with some guitars would be so good!” he whined. “Why did he have to make pop and not metal? He would’ve been amazing.”

“He is amazing,” you frowned.

“Fair enough,” Eddie nodded. “I don’t know about a god but, sure, he’s pretty good.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled as you reached to take the needle off the record, but his hand suddenly landed on your wrist.

“Uh, you don’t— um, have to turn it off so fast,” he stammered, and you smiled.

“Do we have a new Wham!-head on our hands?”

He scoffed. “No way. Just giving them a fair shake is all— after this song’s over I wanna play you something by Poison that I think you’ll like…”

Your mom pulled her translucent shawl up over her shoulders as she stepped out onto the porch.

"Have her back by eleven, mister," Eddie wagged his finger at Wayne, who chuckled along with your mom as they walked down the steps together.

He waved one more time before shutting the door, and letting out a quick breath as he turned to look at you.

"We throwin' a rager or what?" he prompted.

"A rager that ends by eleven?" you raised an eyebrow, though you didn’t look up at him for more than a second from where you sat on the couch— you were too busy reading Persuasion for far from the first time.

"I was just kidding," he smiled, "but next time we'll get them to stay out all night so we can really do something."

"I don't like the idea of them out all night," you shuddered, focusing on the book in front of you— but of course, you couldn’t really focus with him bothering you still.

"Don't be a prude, they're engaged," he crossed his arms. "It's not like they haven't—"

"Stop," you groaned.

"It upsets you that much?" he laughed.

"I'm not saying they're not allowed to do it, I'm just saying I don't want to think about it."

“Then just be thankful their bedroom’s on the other side of the house from ours,” he grinned as he hopped over the arm of the couch to sit next to you. You scooted further away.

“They should be, too; they don’t have to hear you snore,” you returned, still looking at your book as you turned the page. Unfortunately, after that, you had one of those thoughts that, once you had it, you had to ask. “Oh god,” you groaned, looking up from your book and grimacing slightly at him, “my mom stayed over at your place some nights, didn’t she?”

“Yeah,” Eddie shrugged.

“You didn’t… hear them…” you trailed off, widening your eyes and leaning your head forward a bit.

“What, fuck?” Eddie laughed. “No— when Wayne was bringing her over he’d let me know in advance and I would… find other lodgings for the evening. You know, give ‘em some space, crash at Rick’s or something.”

“How… considerate,” you offered, though it was mostly sarcastic. You didn’t like imagining this ‘gentleman’s agreement’ Eddie and Wayne had concerning your mother.

“I mean, that’s just common courtesy,” Eddie smirked, “you know— when the trailer’s a-rockin’, don’t come a-knockin’, and all that.”

“Gross,” you frowned.

“He’d do the same for me,” Eddie explained.

“If you were actually getting any,” you added.

“Well,” Eddie clarified, “if I had a girlfriend, I mean.”

“Oh,” you grinned, “so you don’t just bring any girl back to the trailer, huh?”

He snorted. “No, definitely not.”

“Because she’d turn and run as soon as she saw how filthy that place was?”

“Hey,” he frowned, “it wasn’t filthy… there was just a mild griminess.”

There was a long pause, but it was only awkward for one of you— he was rubbing his hands on his jeans and looking around while you paid attention to your book again, hardly noticing he was there anymore.

“So, what are we doing tonight?” he wondered.

“We?” you repeated.

“I mean, house to ourselves has to be good for something.”

“You better not smoke any fucking pot,” you snapped.

“That was only one of my ideas,” he smirked. “You’ve really never smoked?”

“I never said that,” you mumbled, and you saw him peer at you over the top of your book with a glimmer in his eyes.

“Oh, I wanna know that story,” he pleaded. “Was it high school? Wait, did Rick sell you stuff?”

“No, and no,” you sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Matters to me!” he insisted.

“So do a lot of things that don’t actually matter,” you shrugged.

His finger hooked around the top of your book, in the spine’s crease, and he pulled it down to meet your unamused stare. “C’mooooon,” he whined, “I’m curious what occasion would make a good girl like you decide to get stoned.”

“It was after I broke up with Gary,” you explained, sighing as you shut your book and set it down. He pulled his legs up onto the couch like he was waiting for some juicy, riveting story. “I went to a party with some people from my Intro to English class.”

He blinked at you as he waited. “And?”

“And, we smoked.”

“Oh my god!” he groaned, his head falling back dramatically. “That’s so boring! You skipped the good part.”

“What good part?”

“Why you did it,” he answered.

“I wanted to fit in, I guess? They were passing it around, I felt weird being the only one not smoking.”

“Did you cough?”

“Of course I did,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m not a professional pothead like you.”

“Hey, I’m cutting back,” he defended, raising his hands defensively. “Just nights and weekends now.”

“Just— just nights and weekends?!” you repeated. “So… what?”

“So, I don’t get stoned at school anymore,” he explained confidently.

“Wow,” you congratulated flatly, “better start writing your valedictorian speech.”

“Don’t need to be the best, unlike some of us who are terminally competitive,” he grumbled, “just need to graduate. Sick of being in fucking high school.”

“I’m sure,” you nodded.

“Is college cool?” he wondered. “Like, are the people chill?”

“Uh, I guess…” you shrugged. Not that that’s something you need to be worrying about with your grades.

“Do you have any friends?” he asked, point blank, and you kicked him semi-lightly in the side.

“Shut up!” you frowned.

“Okay, that’s a no,” he widened his eyes as he looked away.

“I mean, I have friends,” you disagreed, “just not like, close friends? I guess?”

“You never have anybody over,” he recalled. “And you never call anybody.”

“Not when you’re home,” you corrected. “I can’t ‘cause you’re always on the fucking line with your Hellfire pals.”

“You could talk to them!” he offered. “Might be the only chance some of them would get to talk to a girl at all.”

“Yeah, I’m good,” you rolled your eyes. “Believe it or not, I’ve kind of outgrown high schoolers. Unlike some of us who are terminally immature.”

“Aw, look at us,” he clicked his tongue, tilting his head as he smiled at you. “The witty repartee, the flinging of insults— this is better than throwing a party.”

You groaned and pulled up your book again, opening it to where you’d left off. “Okay, I’m done,” you mumbled.

“If you say so,” he shrugged, but he was smiling mischievously.

“In fact, now that I know it’s fun for you, I’m never arguing with you again,” you decided. “Conversation over.”

“Don’t say that,” he pouted, but there was a dark shine to his stare as he continued. “You know it’s never over with us, sweetheart.”

You really, really hoped he couldn’t see the way you shivered when he said that…

Before you could worry about how to respond, he got up— your eyes couldn’t help but follow him, lingering on the bandana dangling out of his back pocket— before he turned around and you shot your eyes back to the pages of your book. Why is he so distracting now, just standing there? I can’t even tell if this book is in English anymore, I swear it was before…

“I’m gonna practice guitar,” he informed you.

“Not while I’m trying to read, you’re not,” you frowned. “That thing is so goddamn loud—”

“Acoustic,” he explained with a small, condescending smile. “Won’t offend your delicate little ears.”

“Great,” you hummed in reply, and he disappeared back into your shared bedroom as you focused in on your book again.

You could just barely hear him, but it wasn’t so bad, so you didn’t shout for him to shut the door. He tinkered around with a few songs, none of which you thought much of until halfway into his practice. Your mind was so occupied with reading Jane Austen that you didn’t even really consciously realize that you were listening to the riff he was playing, or that you recognized it in the back of your mind.

You didn’t even notice that you were quietly singing along.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we were older,” you mumbled, “then we wouldn’t have to wait so long…”

The music stopped, and you swallowed as you realized you’d sung; his head popped out of the doorway, smiling wide. “You have a nice voice,” he offered.

“Sorry,” you cleared your throat, “I didn’t— I wasn’t trying to interrupt.”

“Don’t worry about that,” he smiled, setting the guitar down against the wall and stepping up to the couch.

“I’m surprised you know that song,” you admitted.

“It was one of the first ones I learned,” he recalled. “My mom really liked The Beach Boys.”

You glanced down awkwardly; you were pretty sure he wasn’t using the past tense because she stopped liking the band…

“Sing along to whatever you want,” he offered.

“N-no, I’ll just keep reading,” you decided. “But you can keep playing… you can play here if you want.”

“Really?”

You shrugged, and he grabbed the guitar by the neck, sitting down and setting it up in his lap oncemore.

You only recognized a couple more songs after that— Hotel California, Tangerine by Zeppelin, and You Can’t Always Get What You Want— but didn’t sing along to any of them. Occasionally, you heard him humming the melody or mumble-singing the lyrics, and you smiled to yourself.

After a while, you weren’t even reading anymore, just listening.

You furrowed your brow as you listened to him singing something, only able to make out a few words. Something about she’s so lovely and she’s so fine and take me home— pretty vague, could be anything.

“What song is that?” you finally asked.

“O-oh,” he choked, “um, I wrote that one, actually.”

“You write your own songs?” you realized, impressed. He shrugged. “Is that what Corroded Coffin plays?”

“Oh— not this one,” he shook his head, “too sappy. But yeah, sometimes we play stuff I wrote.”

“That’s cool,” you smiled. “Is it about a girl?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” he blurted out suddenly.

“Aw, come on,” you teased, “it is, right? Is it about a specific girl, or just… a hypothetical girl?”

He laughed a little. “Um, a real one.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Did you guys ever go out?” You tilted your head when he scoffed and looked away. “Really? Maybe if you played her the song, she would’ve wanted to go out.”

“Does that work?” he wondered, looking at you again.

“I mean, seems to work on most girls,” you shrugged. “She’ll forget that the guy’s a total dog or a douche or just a good old fashioned loser— so long as he’s a sexy guitar player or whatever.”

“Which one of those am I?” he laughed.

“All of the above,” you decided, “except sexy.”

Of course, one instance of Eddie practicing quietly couldn’t last. The next day, he was back to the abrasive, headache-inducing squeals of his electric guitar on the amp, impossible to block out even as you covered your ears and put all your mental effort into studying. Finally, when you were frustrated with trying to ignore it, you stood up defiantly from your seat at the kitchen table and marched across the hallway.

You swung the bedroom door open, hit with a wave of even louder sound, and the sight of him strumming quickly— his head was hung low at first, though it fell backward as he continued and you could see that his eyes were closed.

“Hey!” you barked. “Eddie!”

He was still playing, starting to rock his head back and forth and sending his hair flying every which way.

“Munson! Pencildick!” you tried to get his attention, but you couldn’t even hear yourself with how loud it was. “COULD YOU TURN IT DOWN?!” you screamed. He either couldn’t hear you still or was simply ignoring you; you stormed across the room, interrupting his headbanging, and grabbed the neck of the guitar tightly. The sounds came to a literal screeching halt, leaving only the ambient buzzing of the amp to fill the air.

“Hey!” he defended. “I was shredding.”

“Yeah, shredding my eardrums,” you spat. “I’m trying to study. I have a test coming up.”

“Oh wow, big photography test?” he rolled his eyes. “What studying do you have to do, making sure you know which button actually takes the picture?”

“No, it’s for my math class,” you frowned, “now could you please keep it down!”

“This is just the volume of metal, my dear,” he sighed, “can’t help you, sorry.”

You groaned as you turned around, kneeling quickly to find the volume knob on his amp and spin it to the left.

“Damn it!” he snapped, bending down and turning it back. “What did I tell you about touching my stuff?”

“Do it more ‘cause you love it so much?” you guessed.

“First my records, then you grab my guitar, now the amp?” he sneered. “Is nothing sacred? How would you like it if I touch your stuff?”

You thought it was a hypothetical until he took the guitar off over his shoulder and set it down, the motion making a slightly-melodic buzz come out of the speaker. He stormed across the room to your closet, throwing it open as you tried to reach around him to stop him. “Get out!” you whined as he dug around through your clothes, taking a pink dress off the hanger and tossing it over his shoulder. “Hey!”

He found another dress, a black one, and he snickered at it. “Cute,” he decided before throwing it, too. You ran to try to pick up your clothes from the floor, but when you turned back to look at him, he was holding onto your stuffed bear.

“Don’t touch that,” you warned him.

“Who’s gonna stop me?” he grinned.

You ran up to him and reached for it, but he held it up high above his head and watched you struggle with a proud smile. "Eddie, give it back!" you whined, jumping up to try to grab it.

"Nuh uh," he laughed.

"Stop!" you groaned.

"You can come get it for yourself, sweetheart," he taunted, knowing you couldn't reach. When you almost managed to grab it, he held you back with his free hand to keep you away.

"Just give it back, Eddie," you begged, starting to get really upset, "my dad gave me that!"

He brought his arm down in a split second, and you snatched the bear from him to hug it to your chest. "I'm sorry," he said instantly, clearing his throat and looking around sheepishly. "I didn't know… I was just trying to— I didn't know."

You sniffled a little, and he looked at you again, eyebrows tilted with a guilty, almost pleading look. "It's okay," you assured quietly. "Just don't take my stuff anymore, please…"

"I won't, I swear," he promised.

You nodded, resting your chin on Barry's head. Eddie sighed a little, looking at you more gently than you could ever remember him looking at you before.

"How old were you when your dad…?" he asked quietly.

"Twelve," you answered. "He got sick when I was eleven, but he died a week before I turned thirteen."

"That's a hard time for that," he nodded. "Not that there's any good time for that but, damn, thirteen is hard enough."

You widened your eyes and blew out a breath as if to say, yeah, no shit.

"I wish I had my mom that long, though," he added, and you looked up at him. He scratched behind his ear for a second, looking off to the side and staring at your wall. "I was nine."

"Was she sick?" you wondered.

"Yeah, something like that," he sighed. "She got better for a while— for me— but she started using again, she didn't know her limits… I found her, actually, and she still had the needle in her arm."

"Oh, god," you breathed, "Ed, I'm so—"

"Don't worry about it," he shrugged, looking at you again and wearing a more familiar, playful expression on his face. "I got to go live with my dad after that, and he was buckets of fun. It was like summer camp with the Boy Scouts, but less knots and more crime."

You snorted a small laugh through your nose. "Sounds cool."

"And now that you know my sob story, you can't get on my case for being a delinquent anymore," he grinned.

"But can I still silently judge you?" you pouted.

"Of course," he winked. "Anyways, point is— sorry for taking the bear. I guess I just wanted to try out some of the annoying-older-brother classics."

"Don't apologize to me," you suggested, "apologize to him."

You held the bear out with one hand, pointing it right at his face.

"His name is Barry," you informed him, something he could incorporate into his apology.

"I'm sorry, Barry," Eddie spoke to the stuffy, "you were collateral damage in my war on my sister. Won't happen again. If you want, I can make it up to you by setting you up with this saucy little throw pillow from the living room—"

You giggled briefly, and Eddie's eyes darted over at you for a second, with a glimmer in them that made your heart skip a beat.

He looked at the bear again. "We square?" he asked and after a pause, he reached up and pinched Barry's right paw, gently shaking it.

"Give him a kiss," you demanded suddenly, and Eddie crinkled his nose in disagreement.

"Uh, I think the handshake oughta do it—" he began to argue.

"Give. him. a kiss." You wiggled Barry in front of his face a bit, emphasizing your demand.

Hesitating for a second first, Eddie pursed his lips and gave Barry a kiss on the head. You pulled the bear back into your chest with a smile.

“I’ll try not to touch your stuff,” you offered.

“I’ll try to keep the music down,” he replied.

“Great,” you sighed, and you slowly turned and left the room, shutting the door behind you. You grabbed your textbook and took it outside to study on the porch— it was a little warm outside for it, but sunset was coming and you knew it would cool off quickly. The silence was so precious after all the noise, and you found yourself losing focus on your practice questions so you could admire the way Hawkins looked bathed in fading purple light. You didn’t love living here all the time, but it had its perks— and really, you weren’t sure if you could ever bring yourself to leave.

Having to tell Eddie about how you got Barry brought the memory to the forefront of your mind— that must’ve been why you dreamed about it that night, about your dad.

Maybe some people who lose a loved one enjoy dreaming about them, it’s like the last way they can see them anymore. But you hated it; it was easier just to not think about him. It was easier to pretend none of those happy memories ever happened, so you wouldn’t have to remember the worst ones too— the medications, the hospitals, the surgeries… the deterioration, right before your eyes.

The dream itself was fine, really; it was sweet. It was waking up that you hated, because for a split second, you forgot. And you had to remember all over again that your dad fucking died when you were still just a little kid.

Barry was the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes, by your pillow, and you grabbed him as you sat up to go do something other than lay here and cry.

Of course, when you sat up, your head slammed into the fucking bunk beds again. You crinkled up your face, more from the frustration than the pain, and let a little fuck slip out as you held your forehead.

Still, you ducked down and got out of bed, navigating your way to the living room. You glanced at the clock— 1:17 AM. Something’s probably still on, you thought to yourself.�� You grabbed the remote and the folded blanket off of the couch’s back, throwing it over yourself as you flipped it on and turned the volume down to something quiet enough for the wee hours of the morning.

Yes, something was still on— after flipping a couple channels, you found something funny and comfortable to hopefully lull you back to sleep, and you adjusted yourself on the couch as you cuddled up with Barry.

Maybe it was the TV that woke him up, or your head injury on the underside of his bed, or maybe just his instinct to show up and bother you at all times; regardless, within a few minutes, you heard the bedroom door open again. Eddie’s shadow moved through the dark until you could just barely see him in the light of the screen, sporting his classic pajama combo of soft plaid pants and his necklace and nothing else.

“Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly. You shook your head, pulling the blanket up higher on your chest.

He sighed a little, crossing the room and standing at the end of the couch— he made a little shooing motion until you moved your feet out of the way and he could plop himself down by your scrunched up legs.

“Whatcha watchin’?” he asked.

“Partridge Family rerun,” you shrugged.

He laughed a little. “You were totally in love with David Cassidy when you were a little girl, weren’t you? Shoulda known.”

“Dude, I never stopped loving David Cassidy,” you snorted. “That’s my man.”

“Uh huh,” he grinned. “And does Detective Sonny Crockett know about this?”

You smirked. “He understands. I loved him first.”

“Yeah, never forget your first love,” he agreed.

“Who was yours?” you wondered. “You know, on TV.”

“Is that even a question?” he scoffed. “Wonder Woman— Lynda Carter.”

“Really?” you giggled.

“Oh yeah,” he nodded, sticking his lips out a bit. “I had it so bad for her and the little, uh… the little thing she wore…”

He gestured to his waist and crotch vaguely as he tried to think of the word. “Hotpants?” you offered.

He grinned and snapped his fingers at you. “Hotpants!” he agreed. “Yeah, anyways, I watched that show way too much for someone who really isn’t into comic books.”

“You’re just into everything else geeky,” you assumed.

“Hey, listen— I’m not some kind of nerdery slut,” he corrected with raised hands. “I like D&D. And Lord of the Rings. And metal, if that counts.”

“The way you like it? Definitely,” you nodded. “I’m afraid you’re gonna wear that new Metallica tape out, you keep listening to it over and over.”

He smiled proudly. “Okay, yeah, I’m a metal geek, then.”

The commercial break ended and with that classic sitcom musical sting, the episode continued.

“Hey, there’s your man,” Eddie nodded at the TV, “and his glorious mullet.”

“Mm,” you hummed appreciatively. “He does have great hair.”

“Uh, hello?” Eddie prompted, and when you looked over at him, he fluffed his hair with one of his hands.

“Yours is okay,” you offered, “but doesn’t have the same, you know… lusciousness.”

“Pfft,” Eddie scoffed, but he offered no defense as both watched the show again.

It was Keith— aka David Cassidy, your preteen awakening himself— and his middle brother Danny walking to school together. “I got one!” Danny pointed at him as they strolled. “You’re so ugly your face oughta be arrested for littering.” The canned laughter offered support for the mediocre joke, and you smiled a little. “Top that one.”

“Alright, uh…” Keith replied, “you’re so dumb—”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Not another ‘you’re so dumb’ insult, not very original.” Keith frowned as he tried to come up with something better.

“I always wanted a family like that,” Eddie admitted quietly.

“Like what, a band?” you wondered.

“That too,” he nodded.

You frowned as you adjusted on the couch, struggling to get comfortable. “Can you get up? I can’t stretch my legs out,” you pouted.

“Yeah you can, just put your feet on my lap,” he offered.

If you were entirely awake, you would’ve questioned that more— but it was that time of night where even the strangest ideas seemed sort of fun, and so you stretched out a bit to let your feet slide across his thighs. With one arm up on the back of the couch, his other hand came to rest on your ankle, and it made your breath catch slightly (though he didn’t seem to notice) before you relaxed. Once you accepted it, it was actually kind of soothing— yeah, your heart raced for a second, but then your eyes kept getting heavier as you tried to blink them open to look at the glowing screen.

Sleep overtook you quickly, like a weight that sunk into you and just kept pulling you down. You didn’t have any more dreams that night.

After you’d dozed off, Eddie’s gaze lingered on your still face for a moment; he smiled to himself, looking down at his hand on your ankle. Gently, he stroked your skin with his thumb, checking your face again to make sure it wouldn’t wake you up.

He turned down the volume on the TV two more clicks, focusing on the scene before him again— something about Laurie having a date coming over to pick her up. Mrs. Partridge greeted him at the door, before he joined Keith on the couch.

“Boy, glad that’s over,” the date sighed as Mrs. Partridge went upstairs to fetch Laurie.

“What?” Keith asked him.

“Meeting the mother,” he answered. “But your mother’s pretty cool… yeah, they usually give you the third-degree— you know, ‘where are you taking her’, ‘what time are you gonna bring her home’...”

“Ah, I know what you mean,” Keith agreed, not looking up from whatever he was reading— Eddie obviously hadn’t been paying enough attention to keep track of that. “Where are you taking her?”

“Huh?”

Keith shut his book and narrowed his eyes. “What time are you gonna bring her home?”

“Early, after the movie,” the date replied defensively.

Keith scooted closer to the other young man. “You, um, taking her to a walk-in or a drive-in?”

“A drive-in,” he answered. Keith immediately began shaking his head. “A walk-in?” the other offered instead, and Keith nodded approvingly.

“As long as it’s rated for the general public,” Keith added.

Eddie looked at you again, watching the blanket swell and sink each time you took a slow, deep breath. He thought about getting up and going back to the bunk bed to sleep, but he was too afraid to wake you up if he tried to move your feet away. Yeah, that was definitely the only reason that he wouldn’t get up now, now that he had you so close and you weren’t awake to try to push him away or tell him to fuck off. Not that he didn’t enjoy that a bit… he just liked this more. So, he’d stay for now and hold onto your ankle until you woke up and told him to stop. Just because he could.

#eddie munson x reader #stepbrother!eddie munson x reader

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