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#i just passed my driving test which means
sargeantposting · 1 day
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A little earlier in the F2 season, we caught up with Williams Racing Academy Driver Logan Sargeant.
Wanting to get to know him just a little bit better, and with a big date in Austin now on the horizon, we tasked him with answering 22 questions about racing and life in general.
Here’s what he had to say…
What race day rituals do you have?
If weekends are going well, I tend to stick with the same underwear for each day. Before you worry, they’re different pairs! I have a Friday, Saturday, Sunday set. But if it’s not going well, I have to make a change!
What's your go-to coffee order?
Latte, but it's a double espresso before quali.
What's the inspiration behind your racing number?
This year it’s six because I can’t choose in F2, but when I am allowed to pick, it would be No3. Three for Dale Earnhardt, an all-out American hero.
Your favourite drink?
I’ve only just turned 21… but it’s water, of course.
If you had to cook one main course to impress a loved one, what would it be?
Oooo… I’m not much of a cook, but I can tell you what I would order in! I love a good prime rib.
What’s your favourite film?
Love the Jump Streets, but I’ve got a lot of time for Step Brothers. But if I had to choose out of the two, I’d go Jump Streets. I suppose I have to choose which one?! But 21 and 22 are both pretty good. Ah, I can’t decide.
Who is the toughest rival you've come up against so far?
It’s got to be the battle in Formula 3 between myself and Oscar Piastri.
Your favourite cheat meal?
Fortunately I have a quick metabolism, so they come relatively often… my American roots mean it would have to be a nice, juicy burger.
How many attempts did it take to pass your driving test?
Just one, which is apparently pretty rare for racing drivers! That’s including the practical and the theory.
Which track are you most looking forward to in 2022?
It’s got to be Monaco, but I’m looking forward to seeing the F1 team in Miami.
You can choose one song only to listen to before a race, what is it?
Lose Yourself - Eminem.
Is there one circuit not on your calendar that you'd love to race at?
Obviously it’s either Miami or Austin; to have a home race would be amazing. That said, I’d love to race at Suzuka some day.
Who is your favourite sports team outside of F1?
Anything Miami! We’re talking Heat, Dolphins, Marlins, Inter Miami… they’ve all got my support.
Least favourite exercise your trainer set for you in the offseason?
I’d say it’s got to be all the extra cardio I had to do to get ready for F2.
What's a better feeling, nailing a quali lap or executing a late overtake?
I saw what Nicky and Alex said to this answer and I have to agree. Nailing a quali lap all day long. It’s my favourite part of a weekend, I love putting it all on the line.
Is there anyone you idolised when growing up?
In racing, my first hero when I was a kid was, funnily enough, Jeff Gordon. I just loved watching him and the way he fought on track.
Favourite sport that's not F1?
At the moment, I’d have to say NFL. But it switches between that and the NBA.
If you could invite anyone in the world to a dinner party, which three people would you choose and why?
I would invite Leo DiCaprio, I feel he’s kind of cool. Then let’s also invite Margot Robbie and Brad Pitt. Let’s make it an A-List movie night!
What is your favourite Grand Prix?
Well, I could be biased and say Austin. I mean, how can you argue against 450,000 fans across the three days last year? That was pretty awesome. But I’ve got to say I love Silverstone as well.
What's been your favourite moment of your career so far?
My rookie race in Macau where I finished third. Definitely, 100%, hands down my favourite track in the world.
One word to describe how you're feeling about the 2022 season?
Confident.
One word that best describes Williams Racing to you?
Supportive.
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arthur-r · 11 months
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(vent cw sorry i ran out of room in the tags to say that. it’s illness-related anger as usual. content warning for medical everything)
im so fucking sick though. just in general
#and i am so tired of people acting like they know my experiences better than i do#stayed home from school today falling behind in everything couldn’t fcuking get out of bed and my dad said that yesterday my energy was up#so i’m obviously faking it today. like yeah yesterday i laid in bed for hours then came to your house and sat in a chair. saw me for 30min#you don’t get to tell me that yesterday i was feeling well because i fucking wasn’t and you have never noticed or cared#when i fucking passed out got a black eye from hitting my head on the way down. he didn’t fucking bat an eye#now i’m stuck awake because i have stomach pain and my heart has been pounding so loud for hours#and i’m trying to sleep and i need to make it to school tomorrow but i can’t#and i’ve been trying and i’ve been lying awake. and at this point i don’t know how to deal with this anymore#i get sick three times a month you’re supposed to be sick three times a year. this isn’t even counting days where i can’t stand#when i say i’m sick i mean i have sore throat congestion and sometimes fever. and it’s almost always a direct result of trying to live life#like i went to the mall thursday prom shopping. walked a few hours. woke up next morning sore throat runny nose couldnt focus on school from#all the pain in so many places and all of my regular symptoms just being escalated so badly. cant think can’t see cant stand#and that is messed up!!!! that is messed up!!!! and my mother tells me she finally agrees i need anxiety medicine#like hey thanks!! that’s helpful!! however!! why do you only endorse mental when it’s the only alternative to physical#why has my mom always denied viewing my anxiety as anything i shouldn’t just push aside. until it becomes a way to tell me that my physical#problems should also just be pushed aside. why is it so hard to get an audience with a doctor#ANYWAYS i have my stupid follow up appointment. this friday. i dont know how it’s gonna go down#i’m just going to tell the doctor how much it fucking sucks. i guess i’m going to ask for a referral to a neurology specialist in the cities#which will drive my family insane they don’t want to enter the cities to help me. but our clinic doesn’t have what i need#i might get the doctor to do a stress test on friday though if they can do that. but i want specific autonomic testing#and like yeah. i get that anxiety is in the autonomic system. part of fight flight freeze and what EVER i’m not trying to say it’s not!!!!#but does it occur to anyone that my heightened anxiety is one of several symptoms. rather than somehow being the cause#heart rate in panic attack sitting down is 120bpm. heart rate in normal brain walking down the hallway is 140bpm. it’s not my fucking brain#anyway i just need a doctor to actually fucking look at me. actually do the tests actually monitor. because it’s there if you look#but nobody cares enough to look and i just have to sit here falling behind in all my classes and not able to do my job that i love#and just wait for it to somehow get better when i’ve been like this as long as i can remember and maybe it’s worse now but it’s always been#there and everybody writes it off as me being lazy or not putting in enough work and maybe i would have been in sports as a kid if i could!!#people act like my fitness now is because of choices i made as a child but i have ALWAYS had worse reaction to exercise than my friends#and anyway i just. idk. sore throat and stuff is gone now but overall discomfort and disability is not. but i’m going to school cause i cant#keep missing it for health reasons just have to watch my heart go insane and do nothing. out of tags i’m sorry. i’m just so tired.
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pucksandpower · 2 months
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The Girlfriend Test
Lando Norris x girlfriend!Reader
Summary: no new LN merch is deemed ready for sale unless it passes the girlfriend test (or in which you are Lando’s favorite hoodie thief and the sight of another driver’s brand on you drives him just a little bit crazy)
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You hear the front door open and close, followed by the sounds of Lando rummaging around in the entryway. “Babe, I’m home!” He calls out.
You’re curled up on the couch in his latest hoodie design, a soft charcoal grey number with black sleeves and his LN logo embroidered over the heart.
“In here!” You reply. Lando comes into the living room and smiles when he sees you wearing his new creation.
“Well hello there, hoodie thief,” he says, leaning down to give you a quick peck on the lips before flopping down on the couch next to you. “So I see you found my newest sample.”
You grin and snuggle further into the super soft fleece. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. This is my hoodie now.”
Lando laughs and tugs lightly on the hood. “Oh is it now? I could’ve sworn this was a prototype I brought home from my design meeting a few days ago.”
“Nope, definitely mine,” you say cheekily. “It’s so cozy I don’t think I can ever take it off.”
“In that case, I guess it passes the girlfriend test with flying colors,” Lando declares. At your confused look, he elaborates. “Oh, I never told you about the girlfriend test? I can’t launch a new LN design until you have stolen it out of my closet. That’s how I know for sure it’s comfy enough for my fans.”
You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re telling me every hoodie so far has passed this supposed test?”
“You got it,” Lando grins. “I’ll leave the samples laying around and if you end up snagging one and wearing it all the time, I know it’s prime merchandise.”
You think back and realize it’s true — Lando’s hoodies have a habit of migrating into your wardrobe. The papaya one is your go-to for grocery store runs. The tie-dye version is your favorite for lazy Sundays. Even the bold purple hoodie he released last month has already earned a permanent place on your desk chair.
“So you mean to tell me this was all part of your master plan?” You ask in mock offense. “And here I thought I was sneakily stealing your comfiest clothes.”
“Baby, if I really didn’t want you wearing my stuff, I wouldn’t make it so tempting to take,” Lando says sincerely, wrapping an arm around you. “But it makes me so happy to see you in my designs, wearing my brand.”
You cuddle into his shoulder. “That’s really sweet, babe.”
“Anything for my number one fan and favorite hoodie model,” he says, planting a kiss on the top of your head.
You snuggle together in contented silence for a few minutes, your head tucked perfectly under his chin.
“So, how was the simulator today?” You ask. “Get some good practice in for Monza this weekend?”
Lando nods. “Yeah, had a really solid session. Tweaked a few things with the setup that I think will help with the low downforce.”
“Nice,” you say. “Maybe another podium this week?”
“We’ll see,” Lando replies. “Ferrari looked quick in Spa so it could be tough. But I feel good going into the weekend.”
“Well, I know you’ll kill it babe,” you say supportively. Lando smiles gratefully and pulls you closer.
“But anyway, enough about F1. How was your day off?” He asks.
You launch into a recap of your relaxed day — sleeping in, catching up on chores, and working on some creative projects you’ve had on the backburner. Lando listens intently, asking questions and commenting on the new songs and recipes you’re dying to try. The conversation flows easily, as it always does between you two.
Before you know it, Lando’s stomach rumbles loudly and you both crack up. “I guess that means it’s dinnertime,” you say, checking your phone. “Pizza sound good?”
“You read my mind,” Lando replies. While you call in the usual order from your favorite local pizza joint, Lando queues up Netflix and scrolls through options for tonight’s viewing.
Thirty minutes later you’re back on the couch, the coffee table littered with pizza boxes and cans of soda. Lando hits play on an episode of Brooklyn Nine-Nine and you settle in, toes tucked under his legs to stay cozy.
You’re only halfway through the episode when you feel Lando’s gaze on you. You turn and find him staring at you wearing his newest hoodie creation, a small smile on his lips.
“What’s that look for?” You ask around a mouthful of pizza.
Lando shakes his head, the smile growing wider. “Nothing really. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”
You tilt your head curiously and he continues. “I have my dream job, getting to race cars for a living. And then I come home to you and … I don’t know. It just feels really good. Like everything is kind of falling into place.”
You set down your pizza slice and cuddle up to him. “Aww babe. That’s so sweet.” You give him a greasy kiss on the cheek. “I’m the lucky one you know. I get to see you living your dream every day. And then I get to be here to celebrate the wins with you and cheer you up after the tough days. It’s pretty amazing.”
Lando wraps both arms around you in a hug. “Love you so much,” he says softly.
“Love you more,” you whisper back, your head tucked perfectly under his chin once again.
***
The next evening, you’re sprawled across the bed browsing on your phone when you hear Lando come home.
“Honey, I’m home!” He calls out in a sing-song voice. You grin, expecting him to come give you a kiss. But instead you hear his footsteps stop abruptly.
“Babe, what … is that?” Lando asks slowly.
You look up confused. “What do you mea-”
Then you spot what he’s staring at in horror: the soft teal hoodie you’re wearing with an embroidered Enchanté logo across the front.
“Oh this?” You say casually. “It’s from Daniel’s new merch drop. The fleece is so soft, I couldn’t resist snagging one.”
Lando’s jaw drops open. “You … you bought a hoodie? From a competing merch brand?”
You stifle a laugh at how seriously Lando is taking this. “Well yeah, you gotta support your friends right? And I told you how comfy it looked in his posts.”
Lando just blinks slowly, looking utterly betrayed. You almost feel bad for riling him up.
“Babe, come on, don’t look at me like that! You know I’m your number one fan.” You get up and go to hug him, but Lando dodges you.
“Nope. No hugs until that … that enemy hoodie comes off,” he says dramatically.
Now you really have to hold back your laughter. “Lando, don’t be silly.”
But he crosses his arms and sticks his chin up. “I’m dead serious, Y/N. My own girlfriend, wearing another man’s merch!” He shakes his head in despair.
You bite your lip, trying not to smile at his antics. Time to have some more fun with this.
“Well if you’re going to be like that, maybe I’ll just keep it on,” you say nonchalantly, snuggling back into the ridiculously soft fleece.
Lando’s eyes go wide. “You wouldn’t dare!”
You raise your eyebrows challengingly. “Try me.”
You stare each other down for a few tense moments, before Lando huffs loudly.
“Fine then. Desperate times call for desperate measures.” And with that ominous statement, he lunges forward and lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder.
“Lando!” You shriek through laughter. “Put me down!”
But he marches down the hall determinedly, you still slung over his shoulder. He brings you into the living room and gently tosses you onto the couch. Before you can react, he rips the Enchanté hoodie up over your head in one swift move.
“Lando!” You squeal, trying to reach for the hoodie, but he’s quicker. In a flash, he has the offending article of clothing in his grip.
“How could you bring this … this enemy propaganda into our home?” Lando accuses dramatically. He holds the hoodie between two fingers like it’s contaminated.
You have to press a hand over your mouth to contain your giggles. Lando looks utterly scandalized at the sight of you in his rival’s merch.
“I’m sorry babe, but you left me no choice,” Lando says solemnly. And with that, he crosses the room, opens the fireplace, and tosses the hoodie in.
You gasp loudly. “Lando Norris, did you just burn my hoodie?”
“I had to protect the sanctity of this home! Can’t have you falling for another man’s branding,” Lando exclaims. But you can see his facade cracking as he fights back a smile of his own.
You get up from the couch and poke him in the chest. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, you know that?”
Lando grins sheepishly. “Maybe. But you love me.”
You roll your eyes but can’t fight back your own smile. “Debatable at the moment,” you joke.
Lando pouts and gives you his best puppy dog eyes. “Come onnnn, you know I’m your favorite driver.”
You pretend to think about it for a moment. “Hmm well Daniel does give the best hugs ...”
“Hey!” Lando exclaims and tackles you into a bear hug. You dissolve into giggles as he squeezes you tight and sways you back and forth.
“Nope, absolutely not allowed,” he declares, still holding you captive.
You lean back to look up at him with a smile. “Oh yeah? And why’s that?”
“Because you’re my girl and I don’t share,” Lando states matter-of-factly. His eyes are soft now as he gazes down at you.
You feel your heart melt a little. You stand on your tiptoes to give him a sweet kiss. “You’re right, I’m all yours Lando.”
His answering smile is dazzling. But then a thought seems to occur to him and a grin spreads across his face.
In one smooth motion, he strips off the neon green hoodie he’s wearing, leaving just a black t-shirt underneath. Before you can react, he pulls it down over your head, enveloping you in soft fleece that smells like him.
“There. That’s better,” Lando declares satisfied.
You snuggle happily into Lando’s worn hoodie, his warmth still lingering in the fabric. Looking down, you recognize it as the exclusive design he wore constantly last season.
Lando’s eyes crease with happiness as he looks at you swimming in his hoodie. “That’s my girl,” he says softly, pulling you close again.
You nuzzle into his chest, perfectly content.
“Am I forgiven for my momentary lapse in loyalty?” You ask cheekily, peering up at him.
Lando pretends to consider this for a moment. “Hmmm, I guess I can let it slide this one time,” he teases back. “But only because you look so damn cute in my clothes.”
You smile and tighten your arms around him. You sway together slowly, Lando humming tunelessly under his breath. The fireplace crackles gently beside you.
After a few moments, Lando speaks again, his voice quiet. “You know I was only joking around before, right? You can wear whatever you want babe.”
You lean back to meet his gaze. His brown eyes are warm but serious now.
You touch his cheek softly. “Of course I know that Lando. Your hoodies might be the comfiest, but they’re not the only clothes I own.”
Lando nods, looking relieved that you understand. “I just never want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your own style or interests.” His voice is earnest. “I want you to always feel free to be yourself.”
Your heart swells at his words. You reach up and kiss him tenderly. When you pull back, Lando is smiling again.
“Thanks babe,” you say. “That really means a lot to me. And same to you, obviously.”
Lando grins. “Of course, it’s you and me against the world! Oh, and McLaren against the other teams,” he adds cheekily.
You laugh and snuggle back into his chest. “Yes, McLaren over all,” you agree, just to make him happy.
“That’s my girl,” Lando says again, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
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eternallys · 1 year
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Calling For Help - LN
Summary: Max F's little sister is sensible and responsible. Or at least that's what Lando thought till he gets a phone call asking for help.
This isn't the redemption request of my mess up, I had the idea before the request got sent in. I will start that request correction soon.
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Lando being back in England isn't really unusual since McLaren is still based there and he has to go back to the tech centre quite often due to that.
Not many people know when he's back.
Few to say the least.
But when he gets a call from y/n's phone at nearly 3 in the morning, which he'd ignore if he wasn't awake playing Halo anyway.
"Lando?"
"Hey, y/n. What's up?" Lando asks while still partially focused on his game.
"Umm...I'm in a bit of trouble and I need your help. But you can't tell Max, like you really really can't tell him." Y/n states clearly very nervous to even be testing to see If Lando would betray his friend.
Now usually Lando wouldn't abuse his power in these situations, but there's been something he's been wanting to do with.
"I'll agree on two conditions. I don't think your reason for asking for help is ridiculous, and you agree to a date." Lando states earning a grumble that he knew was coming. "So spill what happened and we'll see if I'm feeling generous."
Lando knows there's a risk of Max not being impressed that his life-long best friend wants to date his little sister. But Lando could always come up with the argument that they'd officially be family if her and y/n get married which might help in his favour. He just has to stay away
"You are an utter twat." Y/n grumbles before another stern voice chimes in. "I need you to pick me up from the police station. My friend was driving drunk and I'm...not entirely sober, but I was in the passenger seat but allegedly I was drunk and disorderly."
Now it shouldn't be funny and no doubt if Max every discovers this happened, she'll be in so much trouble, she'll regret ever trusting Lando. But she'd not resort to him if he wasn't trusted.
"So the date?"
"Yes!"
"Alright, just tell me the station or get the officer to tell me and I'll be there soon." Lando chuckles before the phone is handed to a very unimpressed sounding officer who gives him the address of the station.
Apparently she's just getting a warning since she is young and never offended before, but because of how drunk she is they don't just want to let her walk out without there being someone there to get her home safely.
"Hey, princess." Lando greets mockingly as she's uncuffed. Certainly not an image that Lando thought he'd see in his lifetime.
Y/n has always been the sibling who didn't risk passing the limit. She even stopped Max going beyond it a couple times. But to say the least, she was always the least like to end up in a jail cell in handcuffs.
"You sobered up a little?" He asks while placing his jacket over her shoulders since she's really not dressed for the cool night air.
"A little. I'm so sorry, Lando...I just didn't know who else to call. I tried a couple other people but they didn't pick up." Y/n sighs making him nod a little before he smiles at her.
"I'm actually happy to hear you're living a little. I mean maybe don't get caught by the police while you friend drives drunk-or call me next time if you don't have a safe way of getting home."
"Safety wasn't at the forefront of my mind...I'm not sure anything was really at the front of my mind. Aside from getting to bed." Something that is now so overdue she feels the hangover kicking in. Definitely not something anyone should have to endure with no sleep whatsoever. "Can we get something to eat? I think my stomach is trying to digest the rest of me."
"Let me guess. Chicken nuggets happy meal and a double cheese burger." Lando grins since he's known her hungover order for years now after having witnessed Max try to nurse her hangovers ever since she turned 18. Though Lando does suspects she did actually break the law like most underage teens.
"It's annoying that you know that." Y/n states while Lando just turns to look at her.
"So what happened? You guys didn't get into crash, did you?" Lando asks making her sigh softly before she shakes her head quickly. "Ok, food is clearly a priority."
He makes quick work of finding a McDonald's which is open and he buys her the food, which he knows she'd usually fight about if she wasn't so hungry and just flat out exhausted. She does offer him some fries which he excepts.
"So Y/n Fewtrell, what would you like to do for our first date?" Lando asks making her groan and shake her head.
"Can this wait till I'm not so destroyed? I feel like shit." Y/n pouts while reaching for the burger. "Actually where are you taking me?"
"We'll just go back to my place and get you setup in the spare room. It's late and dropping you off at home is only going to make people wonder where you've been." Lando sighs while actually checking their surroundings to make sure they are on the right road since he did sort of zone out.
Once they arrive at his place, Lando does give her some clothes to borrow before he sort of just tucks her in.
"I'll see you later."
"Lando...thanks for picking me up and helping me out. You didn't have to but it means a lot to me. Really."
"You know I'd help you out whenever you need."
-
Y/n doesn't reappear from the room until nearly 6pm the next day and while Lando did have plans, he's cancelled them to make sure he is there when she wakes up.
"Morning, sunshine." Lando grins while she walks into his gaming room, clearly in search of him. "Did you sleep well?"
"Better than I deserve." Y/n pouts before Lando moves back in his seat and pats his lap earning a look from her but she sighs and accepts sitting in his lap. "What you are playing?"
"Spider-man 2. They let me have early access for promo." Lando smiles while she seems already invested. "Yeah, we can play together."
"Really? I'm not going to get in the way?" Slight side effect of her brother being a bit of a dick when in the heat of the moment.
"No. You won't get in the way." Lando promises while she smiles as he hands her a controller.
The two of them play the game, really beginning to enjoy it. But an interruption comes in the form of the one person who maybe shouldn't see them in such a position.
"Oh fuck off. Fuck off!" Max exclaims moving back out the room when he walks in and finds his sister on his best friend's lap. "Stop it."
It takes a couple minutes but he reappears to find Lando looking very proud and y/n looking very terrified.
"Why?"
"I'm sorry...I got arrested for being drunk and disorderly when y/f/n got pulled over to drunk driving. I called Lando to come get me and as part of it, he said I'd have to go on a date." Y/n rambles out, not leaving out a single detail to save either of them.
"You got arrested?!" Max exclaims with laughter, apparently seeing that as the main focus of the whole thing. "And for the record, so long as I don't have to hear evidence of what happens between you and not witness anything more than a hug. We'll be on good terms."
"We haven't even been on a date yet." Y/n murmurs while Lando looks at me for a moment.
"But we have his blessing anyway." Lando grins wrapping his arms around her and hugging her tightly before laughing at Max's annoyed expression. "Want to play Spider-Man 2?"
"Yes. But I get first choice-oh and if you ever blackmail my too-honest-for-her-own-good sister into going on a date with you, I'll tell your parents and your sisters."
Lando's sisters, also known as y/n's life long best friends and another hurdle Lando had to consider when pretending that he wasn't attracted to y/n all these years. He's only a couple years younger than him being 21, but Lando has had a crush on her since they were kids and he didn't even know what a crush was.
Thankfully he's covered it well.
"Got it." Lando nods while he smiles at his best friend then handing him a controller. "I'll let the two of you play for my affection."
"I wouldn't-"
"I'm not fighting your future husband for your attention." Y/n states with her more sober personality peeking through while Max nods knowing that was coming. "But I am not moving from this position because you're surprisingly comfortable to sit on."
"Awww...Sorry, Max." Lando jokes as Max finds his own seat to join in.
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ceesimz · 14 days
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Relationship Test - Leah Williamson
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(this isn't gonna be the most description-heavy fic, it's mostly dialogue but I wanted to write this because I think the dynamic of 'gf asking stupid questions to annoy their partner' is really entertaining)
Realistically, Leah should have known from the moment the following question came out of your mouth that you were about to enter an incredibly annoying phase.
"Leah, if I was any supermarket, out of all the ones in the UK, which one would I be?"
She simply turned her head to look at you, completely thrown off by the question. A few moments passed by of her trying to suss you out, figuring out what on earth she should reply to that, before she paused the show you were both watching and took a deep breath.
"Is this a joke or is that a genuine question babe?" She finally replied.
You shrugged a shoulder, fighting off a grin, and looked expectantly at her.
"A genuine question."
Leah once again just stared at you. Where to even begin? Surely, there was no right answer here.
"What one do you think you would be?" She deflected the question, but you just shook your head.
"Good try, but I asked you."
She groaned and threw her head back.
"My love, I have absolutely no idea! I don't look at you and think, 'ah yeah, you are an Aldi', I don't know what you're trying to get at!" She cried out, eyes wide and hands gesturing wildly.
"An Aldi?" You gasped, dramatically feigning offence, even going so far as bringing a hand to your chest to give the full effect. "Leah, that's fucking low!"
"No, I didn't call you an Aldi, babe, I just used it as an example because it's a weird question to ask!"
"Yeah but that was the first one that came to your head! An Aldi, really? Unbelievable. I thought you would have valued me higher than that. Maybe a Tesco at least, but nooo, my girlfriend thinks I'm an Aldi." You sighed and refused to meet her gaze, turning to the paused TV screen and smiling to yourself as you heard her take a deep breath.
"Darling, you are a woman, not a supermarket. I value you higher than I value you myself, okay? It was just a silly question, let's not think too deeply about it." You shook your head once more and stood up from your place on the sofa, storming out the room. "No, babe, where are you going?"
Before you rounded the corner of the lounge, you sent her a cheeky grin and laughed.
"Just the toilet, Le, don't worry." You stated simply, then walked out.
That left the blonde sat stressing to herself whilst also being utterly perplexed at what had just occurred. When you walked back in a few moments later, she still looked visibly shell-shocked, which you couldn't help but giggle at.
"Earth to my girlfriend?" You teased, slotting yourself onto her lap and knocking on her forehead with a knuckle.
"You are something else, I swear." She sighed, a humoured smile on her face as she placed a kiss on your cheek.
Leah survived all of two days before the next one was fired her way, this time, on the drive home from Arsenal training. The pair of you were exhausted, having had a match the day before then being thrown into early morning training the next day. But that didn't stop you from exercising your newfound love.
"Hey Le?" You start, Leah humming. "If I died, would you fall in love again with another person?"
Leah's eyes almost popped out of their sockets at that one. She was still driving, so she couldn't even take a glance at you as she navigated through the London traffic.
"Sorry?" She choked out, sitting up in her seat.
"Would you move on and find another person after me?"
"Is this... a test?" Leah wondered, and it's so hard not to laugh at the hint of nerves clear in her voice.
"I'm just curious." You shrugged nonchalantly.
"I... well, that's a bit of a loaded question, babe." She breathed out, eyebrows furrowed down as she's overridden with countless thoughts. "I mean, first of all I'd be fucking devastated, my love."
"Not what I asked." You told her, to which she panicked more.
"I..." She stuttered over an answer. "I don't know, it would depend I guess?"
"Are you serious?" You begin to argue, Leah wincing and slouching her shoulders. "What do you mean?"
"I have no clue, babe! Sorry for not giving a valid answer, because I don't want to think about you dying!"
"Chill, Le, I'm just teasing you." She dropped her head back against the head rest and groans.
"You are gonna be the death of me." Leah grumbled, glancing at you out of the corner of her eye.
"But seriously though, would you?"
"I swear to f-"
That last one was indeed a bit loaded, so you gave her a week's respite before the next one came. This time? In the cinema, as the adverts played before your chosen film.
"Love?" You whispered, nudging her arm that held her phone. She put it down on the arm rest and turned to you with a soft smile. "I've had a thought that's been plaguing me a bit recently."
"You wanna talk about it here?" Leah frowned, gently taking your hand as you nod. "Okay, my darling, out with it."
"Do you prefer my face or my body?"
Leah stared at you for a solid ten seconds before her body deflated and she dropped your hand. She chuckled to herself and pinched the bridge of her nose, mumbling something under her breath.
"This is another one of those questions, innit." She sighed, turning to you to get confirmation. However, you offered no emotion or reaction. "Tell me, for this one, if this is a genuine... insecurity I need to tackle properly, or if this is another bullshit question."
"I want to know, Leah." You stated. She still couldn't tell if you were serious.
"I prefer your face, my love." She replied truthfully, because that was genuinely her answer.
"Why?" You challenged, still void of emotion.
"Because... that's what I fell in love with first. Your eyes and all the emotions you hold in them, not to mention how beautiful they are. Your smile that immediately makes me smile no matter what I'm going through. Your little freckles, your nose, your eyelashes that I'm still jealous of to this day. Your face was the first impression I got of you, my first glimpse getting to know you. So if you held me at gunpoint and told me to choose, I would say your face. Your body is absolutely beautiful and incredible of course, but you could have no arms and eleven toes and I'm almost certain I'd still love you." Leah answered.
To be honest, that is definitely not what you were expecting. You didn't think a stupid question found in a Tik Tok video captioned 'Questions To Start An Argument' could lead to such a heartfelt admission.
"Oh." Was all you said. "I was supposed to argue back at you."
"What?" She laughed, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pecking your cheek.
"I was supposed to argue and say 'so you don't like this or that about my body' but you kind of took my breath away." You explained with a sheepish smile on your face.
"My love, you know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world, both your face and your body, but if I could only have one forever, it would be your face. Zero hesitation." Leah admitted. You blushed heavily and hid your face in her neck. "Not to say I wouldn't miss your body. You would miss it too, I know you love when I-"
"Nope!" You slapped a hand over her mouth, knowing exactly where this conversation was heading. "Just because we are in the back row of a cinema does not mean you can start saying things like that."
Leah smirked behind your hand and shrugged a shoulder.
"Your loss, baby."
The next one came when you lay awake in bed with Leah one morning a few days later. You were both lay on your stomachs, your hand gliding over Leah's back under her shirt as you gave her the back scratches she demanded with the promise of paying for breakfast in return. Admittedly, you were more of a morning person than Leah was, hence why the following question came to your mind at 8am whilst she could barely think. Was it possibly a bit unfair to ask such a layered question at a time you knew her mind wasn't as sharp as it could be? Absolutely not.
"Leah, could we discuss a hypothetical situation for a moment?" You asked. She opened one eye and looke at you with a face of disgust.
"Too early." She grumbled, closing her eye again and sighing.
"Okay." You left it for a few moments, before asking anyway. "If someone offered you money to go completely non-contact with me for three months, what's the lowest amount of money you'd accept it for?"
"What?" Leah glared at you, resting up on her elbows as she pushed her hair back out of her face. You went to repeat the question, but she shook her head and interrupted you. "I heard you. I mean, what the fuck kind of question is that?"
"Just curious." You shrugged, shifting to lay on your back and look up at her.
"I wouldn't do that." She said, plain and simple.
"It's only three months. What if it was for like, a million? That's three months of doing nothing for a ton of money, babe. That's a life-changing amount of money." You commented with a grin.
"Would you accept that?" She asked, outraged.
"Of course!" You answered immediately. Leah shook her head and threw the duvet off of her, jumping out of bed. "Come ooooon! You'd accept that too, surely?"
"You are a fucking wind-up." She grumbled, stepping into her slippers and leaving the room.
You stayed in bed with an amused smile, settling back down and wrapping yourself up with the duvet, until a voice came from the other room.
"I'd do it for free if you keep up with these stupid questions!"
At that, you jumped out of bed and ran to meet her in the kitchen, an endless amount of colourful expletives leaving your mouth on the way there.
A busy few weeks followed that morning, so your habit took a backseat to focus on an intense set of games. It slipped your mind completely, until one night when some of the Arsenal girls were around at Leah's apartment, waiting to watch one of the men's champions league games. When a multitude of irritated groans echoed around the lounge at the announcement of the game being postponed for a short while, you grinned to yourself from your place on the sofa beside Leah.
"Girls, I know how to keep us entertained in the meantime." You announced.
"We can't do karaoke again, last time I almost got kicked out of the flat." Leah looked at you with a raised eyebrow in warning.
She was referring to an incident that occurred a few months back - a team bonding evening where you, Leah, and the majority of your teammates had a movie night that led to an intense karaoke session. Consequently, a few of the neighbouring apartments reported such event to the building's security team which resulted in a knock at Leah's door and a noise complaint letter being handed to her.
"Not karaoke, babe. Something better." You wiggled your eyebrows at the other girls and stood up from your seat. "Le, come on, help me get two stools from the kitchen."
"What are you planning?" She asked in a hushed tone as you led her to the kitchen.
"You'll see." You shrugged with a smirk, picking up one of the chairs and gesturing for Leah to do the same. Then, you wandered back to the lounge and placed your stool down in front of the TV, Leah doing the same. "Leah, take a seat."
Some of the girls whispered between themselves at the scene carrying out in front of them, getting a great view of what was about to occur.
"Babe, I swear-"
"Sit down, Leah Williamson!" You demanded, grabbing your phone from the couch.
"Oo, government name!" Beth teased, Leah glaring at her and doing as she was told.
You sat there in silence for a brief moment, trying to find the list on your phone that had been neglected for a little while. Once you'd found it, you looked at Leah across from you in her chair and cleared your throat.
"Leah, this is a relationship test." You stated.
Leah's face fell as the girls laughed loudly at her reaction, her mouth opening and closing like a goldfish whilst she tried to find a response.
"Right now?" She replied, you nodding with a smug grin.
"Yep. I have a series of questions for you that you must answer. No cop-outs, no deflections, just the truth."
"This is gonna be good." Jen smirked, knowing what was about to occur. It had been her that sent you the video about it in the first place, little did she know she had planted such an entertaining seed in your mind.
"Ready?" You asked with an excited smile.
"No, I never agreed to this!" Leah cried out, looking helplessly at her teammates who simply laughed again.
"Suck it up, Leah!" Steph shouted, Beth grinning manically from beside her.
"First question!" You announced, the room falling quiet. "What is your biggest fear?"
"That's not a relationship question!" Kyra exclaimed, earning a smack on the knee from Caitlin.
"I don't know, dying?" Leah replied with a shrug.
"Wrong!" You respond.
"How's that wrong, it's my fear?!" She cried.
"The correct answer was: losing me." You revealed, the room bursting into laughter. You couldn't help yourself and joined in too as Leah groaned and covered her face with her hands.
"I know what this is gonna be now." She grumbled, looking back at you and waiting for the next question.
"Next question." You said, silencing the room. "If a genie offered you three wishes, but if you accepted them, there was a ten percent chance you lost me forever, would you take them?"
"Yeah because I would use a wish to get you back." Leah said with a shrug, thinking she had caught you out.
"Wrong. That's not possible." You shook your head shamefully at her.
"And how was I supposed to know that then?" She hit back, but you shrugged back at her.
"Not my problem." You stated as the girls laughed at Leah's eye roll. "Next. Would you rather never play football again or never have sex with me again?"
That one almost knocked Leah off her seat.
"How am I supposed to answer that?" Her cheeks were bright red as she argued, completely at a loss for words right now.
How had a quiet night watching the football, turned into her being the butt of the joke?
"You have to answer it, love." You lowered your phone and fixed her with a pressuring glare, everyone else in the room looking at her expectantly as they held in their laughter.
"Babe, I..." She stuttered, glancing around at her peers with a frantic look in her eyes.
"You're gonna be in the doghouse, Leah." Katie kindly reminded her, followed by a few muffled laughs from some of them.
"Never play football again." Leah answered in a nervous voice.
"Wrong!" You sighed, shaking your head.
"How is that- I can't fucking win." She groaned frustratedly and clenched her fists as everyone else once again laughed uncontrollably. "Please explain how that answer is wrong, my love."
"You shouldn't let your attraction to me override your career, my darling!" You told her with a dramatic pout. She couldn't help but chuckle at your reply, now starting to see the humour in this situation.
"Aren't you guys romantic." Beth rolled her eyes and waved you both off. "Move on, next question."
"Alright." You cleared your voice again, choosing your next blow. "If you learned that I had been hired to date you as part of a social experiment for research, would you be able to forgive me?"
"What the fuck!"
You couldn't help it anymore. You burst out laughing along with your friends and covered your face as you did, hearing Leah rant in the background of all the noise. A few moments passed of pure laughter before you sat back up straight and looked at your girlfriend who, if she was in a cartoon, would have literal steam coming out of her ears.
"Your answer, please." You asked impatiently, tapping your foot on the floor.
"Dating you is a social experiment, this is absurd, I mean-"
"Moving on." You ignored her rebuttal. "Would you rather kiss me for £100,000 or the prettiest woman in the world for a million?"
Leah took a deep breath, removing all previous irritation in her bones, before answering confidently.
"Prettiest woman in the world for a million." She stated, waiting for you to correct her.
"Wrong, how fucking rude. Why would you not kiss me?" You challenged with an angry scowl.
"Because you are the prettiest woman in the world." Leah stated simply with a soft smile, causing you to blush. The room was silent for a moment as you both gazed at each other, before the sound of someone jokingly gagging disrupted it.
"Get a room!" Kyra shouted, throwing one of the sofa pillows at you both. Everyone else followed her lead and started teasing you both, but Leah simply smirked and stood up.
"Get a room, you say? Alright."
She shrugged before grabbing your hand and pulling you towards her bedroom. The sounds of the others wolf-whistling and cheering followed you until it was shut out by Leah slamming the bedroom door closed.
"You done testing me now?" She asked with her eyebrows raised, pressing you back against the door and holding you in place by your hips.
"Guess so." You smiled uncontrollably at her, to which she laughed and let out a breath before hiding her face in your neck.
"You're a little shit, you know that?" She said, muffled by your skin.
"I know it, babe. You love me for it." You grinned. Leah lifted her back up and leaned down to press your lips together in a firm but teasing kiss, pulling back sooner than you wanted.
"Damned if I do, damned if I don't, right?"
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carolmunson · 1 year
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let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)
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inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)
With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.
At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie. 
g’morning pretty  ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy
He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.
what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go. 
You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture.  “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.” 
“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it.  “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?”  “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.”  “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.
i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again. 
i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :)  see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :) 
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He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning.  You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.”  “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you.  “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks.   “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.”  “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.”  He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed.  “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.”  “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.”  “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?” 
“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”
“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.” 
You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.” 
“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?” 
A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.” 
“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable. 
“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice. 
“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face. 
“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”
“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.” 
“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?” 
He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.” 
“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.
“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?” 
“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.” 
“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return,  “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them. 
“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again. 
“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday. 
You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?” 
“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.” 
It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s  just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?” 
“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles. 
“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him. 
“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.” 
You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.” 
“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do. 
‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’
“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.” 
“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.” 
“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.” 
“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”
“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.” 
“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.” 
His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”   
“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.” 
“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?” 
“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.” 
“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card. 
“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions. 
“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.” 
You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?” 
“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box. 
“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you. 
“What can I get you?” he asks again. 
“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take. 
He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see. 
“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.” 
Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck. 
“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically. 
“Another banger,” he exclaims. 
“You know this song?” you ask with surprise. 
“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did. 
“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines. 
You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s. 
“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it. 
“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.” 
He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is. 
“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway. 
“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.” 
“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’” 
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“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target. 
“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you. 
He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.” 
He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?”  “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.” 
“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it. 
You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.
“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?” 
You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through. 
“We have all day, right?” you smirk. 
“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?” 
“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow. 
“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.” 
“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.
“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.” 
He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?” 
“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand. 
“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.” 
“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.” 
“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels? 
“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy? 
“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?” 
“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.” 
“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly. 
“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.” 
When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever. 
You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing. 
“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.” 
Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.
“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf. 
“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?” 
“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.” 
“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze. 
“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.” 
“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.” 
You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something. 
“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be. 
“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store. 
“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.” 
He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.” 
You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it. 
“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?” 
“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”
“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.” 
You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest. 
“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him
“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.” 
“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.” 
His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again. 
“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.” 
“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you. 
“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention. 
“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words. 
“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?” 
The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest. 
“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.” 
Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?” 
You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?” 
“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.” 
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hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted  very godly of you
He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries.  “Easter candy?” he asks. 
“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.” 
“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?” 
“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?” 
“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.” 
“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in. 
“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile. 
“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?” 
“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully. 
“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you. 
“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease. 
“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.” 
Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point. 
“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.” 
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The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console. 
Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you? 
‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’ 
Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”
“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire. 
“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”
“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?” 
“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”
“You knew their names too?” 
“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.” 
“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?” 
“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.  
“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. 
“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.
“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back. 
“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks. 
“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.” 
Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.” 
“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.” 
“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more. 
“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.” 
“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face. 
“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts. 
“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”
“Not Tool!” you laugh.  
“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.” 
“It sounds like you did.”
“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’” 
“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head. 
He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.” 
“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth. 
He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.” 
“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.” 
“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.” 
“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.” 
Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage. 
“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his. 
“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green. 
“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.” 
“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly. 
The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now. 
‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’
“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?” 
“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.” 
“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.” 
“It’s cozy, right?” you ask. 
“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest,  “You gettin’ sleepy?” 
“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.” 
“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.” 
You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?” 
“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do. 
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After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now? 
“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped. 
“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.” 
“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.
“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no. 
“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.” 
“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping. 
“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard. 
“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.” 
“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again. 
“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”
“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!” 
“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes. 
“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.” 
“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”
“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.” 
“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile. 
“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you. 
“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.” 
He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”
“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.” 
“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.” 
“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.” 
“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception. 
“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.” 
“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch. 
“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth.  it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you. 
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By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand. 
these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy.   oh, so you miss me?  of course i do :) i miss you, too :) 
“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?” 
Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met. 
“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.” 
He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.” 
“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?” 
“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?” 
“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.” 
“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted. 
“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks. 
“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back. 
what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.” 
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After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?” 
Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.” 
Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.” 
“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them. 
“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.” 
“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds. 
“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.”  “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.” 
“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees. 
“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks. 
“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.”  “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.
“Steve.”
Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?
He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?
Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.  
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The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage. 
The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser. 
hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps 
Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark. 
don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late?  grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?
“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.” 
yeah, show me :) 
He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand. 
And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it. 
jfc you know what you’re doing  whaaaaat? what do you mean?  ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean.  do you not like it?  i like it a little too much  you wanna see it from the back? 
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers. 
of course i do 
He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.
do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru.  you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn?  lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it. 
“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?” 
yeah? you’d take care of it?  only if you asked nicely :) 
“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand. 
i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please.  what a good boy. :) 
“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.” 
would you want me to use my hands or my mouth? 
“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first. 
i like the idea of keeping your mouth full  oh you wanna shut me up? is that it?  i don’t think it takes much. 
His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off. 
“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.
“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that? 
Bzz. Bzz.
oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄
“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat. 
you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it  you sound very confident  because i am  is it big? 
He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit. 
its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it.  i know i can take it.  so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here.  so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that.  so you are jerking it in your bedroom?  the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs
He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good. 
🙈 stop  yeah? i can stop.  don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come?  cause i do have my fingers between my thighs 
“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls. 
does it feel good, sweetheart?  it would feel better if you were doing it for me.  can i call you?
“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…” 
absolutely. 
Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring. 
He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does. 
“Hey there,” he murmurs. 
“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan. 
“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again. 
“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh. 
“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm. 
“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.” 
“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax. 
“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.” 
He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead. 
“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?” 
“Yeah,” you whine to him. 
“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”  
“How?” you ask breathily. 
He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.” 
“I’m not needy,” you protest. 
“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.” 
You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver. 
“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?” 
“Yeah…” 
“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.
“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh. 
“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?” 
“How long have you been doing it?” 
“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly. 
“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?” 
“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you. 
“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.” 
You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over. 
“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low. 
“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea. 
“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?” 
“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you. 
“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm?  Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.” 
“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down. 
“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls. 
“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.” 
“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober. 
“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully. 
“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly. 
“Poor thing,” he offers. 
“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.” 
“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.” 
“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters. 
“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.” 
“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.” 
“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”
You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours. 
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Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned. 
He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere. 
“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go. 
“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.” 
“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.” 
“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy. 
“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment.  “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. 
“I missed you,” he says confidently. 
“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group. 
“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug. 
“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over. 
“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose. 
“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.” 
You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind. 
“Guess who it is,” she laughs. 
“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand. 
“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.” 
Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts. 
“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.” 
“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face. 
“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.” 
“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.” 
“So you like her?” Eddie grins. 
“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.” 
“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort. 
“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.” 
“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs. 
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The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all. 
“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses. 
Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat. 
‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt. 
“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too.  He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it. 
Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit – 
“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse. 
“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.” 
“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines. 
“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.” 
Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time. 
“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs. 
“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair. 
“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs. 
“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks. 
“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this. 
“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going. 
“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently. 
“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him. 
“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room,  “You even know how to play?” 
“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain. 
“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.” 
And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again. 
“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not.  Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and  that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade. 
While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.  
Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest. 
“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting. 
“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin. 
“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen. 
“Do I win a prize?” 
“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.” 
“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.”  He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight. 
“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again. 
“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place. 
“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.” 
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The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other. 
He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.” 
The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips. 
You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.
“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”
“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.
“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands. 
“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths. 
“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.” 
You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums. 
“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp. 
“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.  
“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.” 
“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can  — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.” 
“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.
“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?” 
“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar. 
“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually – 
“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep. 
“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves. 
“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him. 
“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.” 
A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck. 
“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind. 
Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft. 
He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time. 
“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too. 
“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips. 
“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.
“A little,” you giggle. 
“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.” 
He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth. 
“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.” 
But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.
“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.
“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks. 
“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel. 
You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 
“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit. 
“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead. 
“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.” 
“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout. 
“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again. 
“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him. 
“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger. 
“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue. 
“That’s good for you?” he mumbles. 
“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.” 
He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time? 
“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.” 
“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.” 
“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?” 
Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…” 
“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game. 
“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”
“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish. 
“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you. 
“Eddie…” 
“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him. 
“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.” 
He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch. 
“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back. 
“M’gonna cum…oh shit  — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak. 
“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.
“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers. 
“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”  
Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead. 
“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.” 
His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin. 
“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate. 
“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.
“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.
“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?” 
“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.” 
“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?” 
“Much better.”  
Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks. 
“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen. 
“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face. 
“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate. 
“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –” 
Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is. 
“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?” 
You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn. 
“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping. 
“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.
“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.” 
He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?” 
You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder. 
“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”
“I really fucking like you, too.” 
When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed. 
“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.” 
“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.” 
Jingle. Click. Creak. 
“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.” 
But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen. 
“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.” 
“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.” 
“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second. 
He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.” 
“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.”  Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.” 
“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again. 
“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him. 
“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit. 
“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.” 
“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 
“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?” 
“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much. 
Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you. 
2K notes · View notes
neopuppy · 6 months
Note
Jaemin would love a good gloryhole, he gives me crazy psychotic vibes
warning. ntm yet.. a smidge of fondling
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“You’re going to work? This late?” Jaemin mumbles, pinching between his eyebrows where he’s sat with his face buried in a pile of books. “Who clocks in at midnight?”
“It’s an overnight job..” you shrug, tightening your coat. “That job fair I went to last week.. it was the only position that wouldn’t interfere with my class schedule.”
Jaemin sighs, leaning back against his computer chair until it creaks beneath his weight. “How are you going to keep up with your assignments?”
“That’s the thing,” clearing your throat nervously, you reply quickly, eager to end this conversation as you appear distracted patting your pockets for the house keys. “Factory prefers college students, don’t want to provide benefits or full-time positions, so the shifts are short, no more than 4 or 6 hours.”
“Oh..” Jaemin stands, stretching out his arms above his head as he approaches you. “I could drive you.”
“No!” You say abruptly, breaking into a smile at the sight of his face falling. “You already do enough for me, and I know you’re cramming for that big test.”
Jaemin waves it off, leaning near the door frame. “It’s not a big deal, I know the couch isn’t comfortable.”
On command at the mere mention of your makeshift bed your back aches, stretching to the side to relieve the pain and releasing a loud crack as you sport half a smile. “It’s not exactly a cloud but..”
“Better than the backseat of your best friend's car.” Jaemin adds, scratching his nape. “I hope at least..”
“Definitely,” you chime, setting your hand on the door handle. “Besides, this is only temporary.”
That’s what you have to remind yourself of daily, that this is just for now. A transition time you’ll forget about as soon as you’ve collected a month's pay. A draining and exhausting effort on your part, but the money..
“Seriously though, if you’re too tired for the walk back, I’ll leave my ringer on.” Jaemin’s hand lays over yours, gently squeezing. “Don’t hesitate to call me.”
“Of course, thanks Jaem.”
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“Let’s not sit where she sleeps.”
“I mean..” Jeno scoffs, folding his knees to sit on the floor with his back against the couch. “It is a place to sit, you know.”
“Don’t be a dick.”
“I’m not.” Unlocking his phone, Jeno settles comfortably, head resting against the couch cushion you rest your head on every night. “You say that like I don’t offer her my bed all the time.”
“Which I’m sure she’d take you up on if you know—“ plopping down by his friend's side shoulder to shoulder, he raises an eyebrow. “You were not also in said bed naked from the waist down.”
Jeno shrugs, passing his phone to Jaemin. “Still beats a couch.”
“What’s this?”
“Something new and exciting that we should try.” Jeno explains, leaning in to scroll down the message board. “Know anything about gloryholes?”
Jaemin nearly chokes on his spit, eyes widening as he reads through the various comments describing the experience. “The fuck are you talking about..”
“You know what I’m talking about.” Jeno grins, reaching to jingle the keys in his pocket. “You down or what?”
“I dunno man..”
“I won’t tell anyone.” Sharing a curious look, Jeno raises his eyebrows up and down, pushing up from the floor to stand and extend his hand. “Just between us.”
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“I don’t understand the point in paying for a quick fuck..” Jaemin says, disgruntled by the lists of prices before him. The trek to find this place was bad enough to begin with, and on tip of that $500 to get his dick wet? By a stranger no less?
“Two for one deal though.” Jeno notes, tapping the larger font with the price of $800 blown out beneath. “Hear me out, send me $250 and I’ll cover the rest.”
“W-what?” Jaemin stutters, surprised at how nonchalant his friend is about this whole situation. “Are you seriously down this bad?”
Jeno scoffs, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like that.” Counting out a wad of bills, he slides them beneath the black tinted window, specifying the two for one deal for them. “Don’t knock it until you try it alright?”
Bending lower near the opening he slid the money through, Jeno whispers. “Number 7 available?”
“You’ve..” Jaemin follows after him, pieces falling together as his friends leads the way through a long hall without question. “You do this a lot or something?”
“Define a lot.” He says, peering over his shoulder with a sleek smirk. “A couple of times.. nothing crazy yet. At least you have me here to make sure your first time is memorable.”
Jeno comes to a stop, dangling a key that’d been tucked between his palm. “Lucky number 7.” He nods to the rooms door, an ominous carved out text painted black glares back at him.
The door lock clicks, pushed open slowly as his friend steps aside for him to head in first. It’s empty for the most part. A few items stacked along a shelf, condoms, lube, sex toys. “Behind that.”
Jeno locks the door shut behind them, motioning toward a hung up drape obscuring the rest of the room. “Would you prefer to go alone? I’ll even let you have dibs since it’s your first visit.”
Jaemin dry swallows, swiping his tongue across his suddenly dry lips. “And do what?”
Jeno’s lips draw back in a cocky smile, shushing his friend as he nudges him forward. “One way to find out.”
Jaemin’s chest thumps, gulping down the invisible weight pressed against the back of his tongue. Slowly he steps forward, barely grazing the drape with his fingertips, the sight of his trembling hand solidifies the nerves shooting throughout his chest, nudged forward softly again as he steps a foot inside past the drape.
“Shit..” he mutters, biting down on his lip to hold back a groan. Three different holes line up the walls leaving his mind to race with nothing but depraved thoughts.
“Pick one.” You say quietly, barely echoed from behind the wall that hides you.
Jaemin’s neck stiffens, toeing his way closer past the smallest of the holes that meets him at hip level. The arrows above directing him where to insert himself.
“Seven.” Jeno speaks up from the drapes opening, closing it shut to lean against the wall. “This is my best friend, he’s a first timer.”
Jaemin’s eyes enlarge, tracing around the top of the largest entrance that can only be for one thing..
“Let him get a taste of what we paid for.”
Jeno moves to stand behind him, chest pressed to his friend's back. “Jesus man, don’t be nervous.” He grins, cupping under Jaemin’s elbow to direct his hand inside past the opening.
“Nothing to be scared of, especially not you.” He whispers, chin hooked on the largers shoulder, breathily laughing when his friend lets out a shocked gasp.
“Fuck.” Jaemin sucks in a breath, digits sliding between a soft warmth. The heat building in his chest erupts upon contact, lodging himself forward with his chest pressed to the wall as his fingers spread and he glides deeper between the familiar wrap of velvety inner thighs around his wrist. “Holy shit.”
“You wanna fuck that slut, right?” Jeno eggs on, patting his hip. “Get her nice and wet for us.”
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voidpetrova · 2 months
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settle the score — rafe cameron x reader
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☄. *. ⋆ content warning(s) & genre: swearing, miscommunication trope, slowburn, alcohol consumption, pining, playing hard-to-get, suggestive content, violence depicted — drama, slow romance
˚♡ 。˚ synopsis: blood is thicker than water, but the heart wants what it wants. you're a routledge, he'a a cameron, but just because it made sense for your brother and sarah, doesn't mean it'll make sense for you and rafe.
✧.*
life in the outer banks was a delicate dance between the sun and the storms, where secrets washed ashore with the tide, and alliances shifted like the sand beneath your feet. in that coastal chaos, friendships were tested, love was found in unexpected places, and every wave brought a new twist to the story of your lives. paradise on earth, that's what it was.
“history test,” your voice clashed with the peaceful silence that had filled the chateau. you had already made your bed, hours ago. pulling your skirt and tucking it into your uniform, you made a final lap around your home, shaking your brother awake for school. “both of you need to get up, like, yesterday.”
a moan of defeat passed john b's lips as he tossed and turned, as if still drunk. jj, who had been asleep on the couch, was now stirring awake, eyes fluttering open. “good morning to you too, momma.” you rolled your eyes as you bent down, continuously shaking your blood and flesh awake. the previous night had come crashing down faster than any other night—more alcohol, more running, more throwing up. now, you were all running late despite nearing the end of your semester. “okay, shit, i hear you,” john b exclaimed, running a hand through his messy hair.
when you had woken up, the house was a total wreck. it was made a mess, and it was gonna be left a mess. you rolled your eyes as you shot jj a warning look, as if to say, “he's your problem now,” but he wasn't. no matter how protective john b was over you, you were always gonna be his older sister. you played your role all too well, especially once the child welfare agency had paid you a visit—two days after you turned eighteen, which was just a few weeks ago. the minute you could, you signed to be your brother's legal guardian. he could punch all the men in the world for so much as looking at you the wrong way, but you would always be the real protector.
in the twinkie, you spent a minute or so enjoying the silence the morning had to offer. you admired the way the sun's rays shined against the sea, the way the birds chirped in harmony. the silence was beautifully deafening, but terribly short-lived. “shotgun!” you winced at jj's yelling, wondering how he sustained so much energy so early in the morning. with no hesitation, he pulled the door open and tumbled into the seat next to you, offering a wink. “my sister's driving, that's so not fair,” john b huffed as he sat in the back defeatedly.
“can we not do this at seven in the morning?” you practically begged, feeling the headache closing in on you. “nah, gotta get in the mood for today,” jj retorted as he stretched, as if prepping to run a marathon. “i got kicking topper's ass on today's checklist.”
the growing, extensive tension between the two tribes had come to be an exhausting occurence. you didn't mind a lot of kooks, actually. kiara was a kook, but it didn't stop her from being your best friend. she was one of the most down-to-earth people on the island—you had assumed it was a façade before meeting her. sarah cameron wasn't all so terrible, either. you didn't like her the first time she came around, didn't trust her, but you've grown closer over time. you had no positive opinion regarding topper, knowing you and jj had convinced pope to sink his boat for a good reason, even taking a beating from his friends for your brother. he wasn't the worst of them all, though. your main issue was with sarah's older brother.
rafe cameron, who was just a year above you, was truly the cause of all your problems. you tried not to pay him any mind, not in school, not out of school. you so badly wanted to make it seem like he didn't exist, you couldn't resort to violence. you had a reputation to uphold and a brother to take care of, it wasn't worth the risk. he had something directly against you, you knew it. he spent most of his time taunting you, insulting you, cornering you. out of all pogues, it seemed that his issue was with you.
you tried not to pay any mind to it, especially not while you were driving. “no causing shit today, am i clear?” you shot jj a look, earning two hands, rising in defense. “no need to worry, ma, we'll be good.” you met your brother's eyes in the rearview mirror, the worry on your face evident. he tried to make it up to you with a comforting smile, but you weren't buying it.
union academy had a traditional coastal charm. it featured classic architecture with a touch of maritime influence, reflecting the coastal setting around it. the school grounds included a mix of green spaces and typical educational facilities, creating a backdrop that captured the essence of a so-called, safe environment. it would've been safer with a few electricity-prone gates separating the two tribes, but there was no going down that road. if you ignored the hell waiting to break loose, it was a beautiful school.
you stepped out of the twinkie, making sure to lock it once the two boys had stepped out. “hey,” you turned around as john b called out to you. “i promise we won't start any shit today. we'll walk away.” you nodded, despite the disbelief that swelled in your chest. “i trust you, jb. just be careful for me.” he didn't have to respond, pulling you in for a hug. you were all he had, and he was all you had. if it meant you'd be happy, he could resist his urges for a day or so.
once he had departed, you brushed your skirt down and adjusted your hair with a sigh. the school's field was huge, littered with kids who could only either look at you with disgust, or with lust. some of them, despite the disgust they felt, knew they'd do you sober. not even after a cheap beer, just stone cold sober. they also knew it'd be best to keep it to themselves, judging by the way your brother glared at them, almost as if he knew. you ignored it. you tried too, at least. despite all of it, you knew you had lucked out just before reaching the school's main doors.
“can't ignore us forever, princess,” every nerve in your body told you to turn the other cheek, to keep going and continue your streak. “very rude, very pogue-like.”
you didn't want to feed anybody's ego, but you couldn't stop yourself from turning around. to nobody's surprise, you ended up locking eyes with rafe, a smirk painted on his lips. topper stared at the floor, avoiding eye contact due to his past previous encounters with your brother. “ever get bored of it, rafe?” you snapped, a bored look playing on youe features as he towered over you. “put your money where your mouth is and get yourself a new plaything.”
so ready to end the conversation, you broke the eye contact, but rafe had other intentions. “heard you've screwed every kook in the area,” he practically snarled. “seems like you know a lot about money and mouths.” there was no way for you to exit now, and you had passed the point of being nice a while back.
“i must've been taking lessons from your sister,” now, you had the attention of both boys. “you know, the one who gets her back blown out by my brother every other night.”
rafe didn't care about his sister, he cared about his reputation, his status. that's why he was quicker to step into your face, before topper could get the chance to defend his ex-girlfriend. “i wonder what big daddy john would have to say about his daddy handing pussy out to everyone,” you weren't a slut by any means. shit, you've done it once, with someone whom you loved and trusted, and you were sure it wouldn't see the light of day. you were wrong, but didn't care much about it. no one really said anything about it, except rafe. every chance he got. “may as well let us take you for a spin, routledge.”
walk away, all you had to do was walk away. you needed to be the bigger person, you needed to set an example. you needed to think. shit, you've been doing it for as long as you could remember, why was now any different? the people that surrounded the three of you only added to the pressure you were under, but you knew you couldn't fight it. he had hit every spot there was to hit, and you knew he'd hang it over your head for the rest of the week.
your fist had collided with his face faster than you had anticipated. it had happened in a split second, and all you could see was red. you hadn't even noticed how you tucked your fingers in skillfully, let alone how hard the hit truly was. rafe's head fell back as he stumbled, practically falling onto the floor. he didn't have time to collect himself, not while your head had blocked out, not only the way the crowd screamed in approval, but your thoughts. you weren't thinking, not while you had dropped down, sinking onto his lower body, wrapping your hands around his throat. you applied pressure, more than enough to shut him up for good. his eyes widened as he wheezed, his hands tapping at your arms vigorously.
“let him go, holy shit,” topper tried to pull you off, only leading to further thrashing that pushed him back. you continued, your eyes boring into rafe's and, for a second only, you swore the darkness had disappeared. you had no time to read what he was feeling, not while another pair of arms met your waist, pulling you off. rafe gasped for air, fingertips tracing his throat as he coughed.
you thrashed aggressively, your vision blurry as you practically begged to be let go. none of the consequences mattered in that moment. once you had turned around, still thrashing, you were met with jj, who was doing his best to contain you. “sorry, cupcake. just doing what you're brother asked me to.” you yelped as he practically threw you over his shoulder. he turned around, and you had, once again, met rafe's refreshingly dark glare.
“yeah, get the slut out of here,” he practically spat, and it didn't take long for the trigger to click. “try not to fuck her again while you're at it.”
you turned against jj's shoulders, watching the way his breathing deepened. “don't do it, jayj. don't you do it.” there always came a point where you wondered why you even tried, and this was one of those times. you knew that once your body had fallen onto the floor with a thud, exhaling a sigh of defeat as you rolled your eyes.
the principal's office wasn't exactly a foreign place for you, but that didn't necessarily mean all of your experiences were negative. the same couldn't be said for your current one. you knew you had made a mistake the minute it was all over with. you were sat in between rafe and jj, directly across the principal's seat as you waited for his arrival.
you toyed with your fingers impatiently, practically in touch with the way rafe stared at you from the side. for a second, you met his eyes, regret clounding your vision because you knew what was waiting for you. “tell your boyfriend to get you a leash,” he hissed, but you didn't say anything. you didn't have to. “you better watch it, asshole,” jj finally snapped, standing on his feet once more. he was nothing of the sort to you, rafe knew it. everyone did.
“you best take your seat, mister maybank,” boomed the voice of your principal as he walked into the office. he shut the door behind him as he took his seat, along with jj. “you all really love making issues out of nothing, don't you?”
rafe scoffed, “i wouldn't really call assault nothing.” the side of his face you had struck was bruised, along with his throat. jj hadn't done much damage, due to the principal and secretary's appearances mid-situation. he shrugged, “what'd you do to provoke her, mister cameron?” rafe ignored the question, tongue wetting his lip as he laughed dryly.
finally, the principal re-directed his attention, eyes scanning the bruised littered across the knuckles on your right hand. “as for you, miss routledge—you've really done it this time,” once again, for what felt like the hundredth time, you could feel rafe's eyes on you. “school grounds, miss routledge. assault. you'll be faced with suspension. if mister cameron decides to press charges, expulsion. your brother, and i hate to bring this up, will be taken from your care, and best believe that child protective services will get him in no time.”
rafe's expression softened at the principal's words, something you had failed to notice as you stared at the principal in shock. “this ain't right, this isn't fucking fair—” jj was cut off almost immediately. “mister maybank, please,” you couldn't believe it. it was exactly what you had been warning john b and jj about. not to start any fights, not to cause any trouble. everything was at stake, your family was at stake. “it's a handful, isn't it, miss routledge? school, working a job, being a full-time guardian. unfortunately, this is out of my hands.” silence, it was all you could respond with.
rafe analyzed you with watchful eyes, too focused on you to take jj's glare into consideration. he felt for you, for your situation. he had no idea you had taken on such responsibilities. “i'm not gonna press charges,” he announced, finally. jj's glare had settled as the three of you looked at him in shock. “what? let the whole world know she beat my ass?” you remained quiet, while his eyes remained on you.
“very well, then,” the principal cleared his throat. “a three-day suspension seems adequate, no?”
it was just like rafe to watch out for nobody but himself, his status. his reputation. it was how he chose to be perceived. he wasn't gonna go around pressing charges, adding fuel to your already blazing fire. not anytime soon, anyway. just like how he wasn't gonna let anyone know that he was pulling away for your sake. you couldn't look him in the eye, even while leaving the office.
“are you really his guardian?” he leaned against the wall that surrounded the empry hallway. you hesitated with your answer, “of course i am, i'm all he has. he's all i have,” you tucked your bottom lip between your teeth. “thanks for not pressing charges, i'm sorry about everything.” he chuckled as you gestured toward the bruise on his jaw.
“it's not exactly like i didn't deserve it,” in that moment, he watched you openly. this time, you were aware of it. perhaps, in that very moment, he didn't see you as a pogue. he saw you as a girl. a very pretty one, at that. “some right hook you've got, take lessons?” it was the nicest thing he's said to you, really. you opened your mouth, ready to respond, and your smile didn't go unnoticed. unfortunately, you never got to finish.
“get the fuck away from her.” in a second, your brother was pulling you away from him, standing in your place, now face-to-face with him.
with a huff, you revived the distance between them as you stepped in front of rafe. “leave him be, jb. he's not pressing charges, it's my fault.” your brother's eyes finally locked onto yours, “after begging us not to start any shit, you go after rafe?” he had a point, you had done the complete opposite of what you'd begged them.
“i apologized, just listen to me,” you begged. “rafe was nice enough not to press charges, that's all there is to it.”
he nodded in agreement, “no pogue is worth my time,” the asshole you had grown used to had made another appearance, yet you couldn't help but wonder where the side you had just met had wandered off to. “especially her.” you held onto john b's wrist, squeezing as if begging him silently to stay quiet.
when he had dragged you away, he forgot to drag your backpack away with him. by the time rafe had realized you had left it behind, slouching on the floor next to his foot, you were long gone. he sighed, rolling his eyes as he tossed it over his shoulder, groaning at the unimaginable weight of it. “so that's how she does it, huh?” he couldn't help but smile at the thought. quickly, he made a mental note to stop by the chateau and drop your bag by the same night.
“i can't believe i forgot my shit,” back at the chateau, you were panicking. john b had gone out with the others, leaving you and jj back at the house. “he's gonna burn it, i just know it.” jj sat on the sofa as you paced around the room, offering you a freshly-cracked open beer. “you really need to calm down, he's not gonna do shit after that blow.”
you rolled your eyes at the remark, but finally stopped in your tracks as you stared out the window. the night was black, the only light illuminating the outside and inside world being the light coming from your living room light. “don't know why he hates me so much,” you let out a sigh as you stared into your own reflection in the window. as you did so, you watched jj walk up to you, his front pressing into your backside, arms wrapping around your waist as he pulled you in.
“only 'cause you're everything he's not,” you sighed as your heartbeat finally began to settle, your body melting against jj's touch. “'cause you won't let him hit, that too.” everything you and jj had was purely physical, and you kept the pogue-on-pogue macking a secret. you had hooked up once, which was made known, and it didn't end well. it was the point where rafe had begun to openly hate you, and the point john b had to be held down by three of his companions from killing his best friend.
he pushed your hair to the side as you tilted your head, allowing him all the access he needed as his lips latched onto your neck. “jayj,” you whimpered, eyes fluttering shut as he placed sweet, feather-like kisses down your neck, going as far as the angle allowed him. “john b's gonna be here soon, anyone could see us.”
it was like talking to a wall. he hummed, uncaring, as he brought one of his hands up to your breasts, clothed by nothing but a sheer tank top. he gave one a gentle squeeze while he brought his other hand down to your short, pulling them down with ease. he turned you around to face him, towering over you as his hungry eyes bore holes into yours. “you really want me to stop?” he didn't even have to ask, he already knew the answer. you shook your head. “then, take that top off for me, cupcake.”
from the inside, there was no one that could see you, let alone stop you. from the outside, as the light illuminated your figure, anyone could, but not just anyone did. rafe had come by, as he had promised himself, with your backpack slung over his shoulder. only, he really wished he hadn't. he didn't know what to feel as he stood in front of the window of the chateau, the bright lights having caught his attention.
it felt wrong to watch, and he took no pleasure in it. he watched the way jj had you, the way your face scrunched with pleasure while he touched you. by the time it had grown to be too much to watch, he peeled his eyes off the sight, tossing your bag onto the ground as hard as he could. “motherfucker,” he practically shouted, kicking the bag onto the porch, heel digging into one of the pouches. it was the last thing he did before storming off.
the following day, you had woken up to the sound of explicit shouts. it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but it was still a cause for concern. thankfully, you had woken up in the comfort of your own bed, fully clothed, despite last night's lingering activities and upcoming headache. your eyes fluttered open as kiara and pope rushed into your room. “you really gotta see this,” kie's tone was filled with worry, a slight edge to it as you forced yourself to become conscious. your hair was a mess, top on backwards, but you still obliged.
john b and jj stood on the front porch of the chateau. at first, you couldn't see anything, hands aggressively rubbing your eyes as the sun kept your vision at a minimum. once you had a clearer view, you knew you were fully awake, eyes widening at the sight. “holy shit,” you gasped out, wanting to come closer, but jj stuck his arm out, preventing you from going any further.
the entire yard had been trashed. the hammock had been littered with scattered books and loose papers, alongside the boat, the driveway, the steps. all trashed and stained with school items. one of the window's covers had been torn off, along with the generator's latch next to the door. the bushes planted alongside the perimeter—all trashed, as if somebody had stomped on
“do we even have to ask who did this?” pope inquired, watching the way your hand came over your mouth. “of course not,” kiara responded, taking a few steps of her own. “but what's with all the books and shit?” you had come to a realization of your own as you pushed past jj's grip, walking towards what you believed was the source of your issues, laying flat on the ground.
you had recognized the backpack the minute you were called out to the porch. despite it being black and plain, with perhaps a few details of white stitching and patterns, the tag on the side gave it away. “P4L,” it almost made you smile, really, but it was no situation to smile about. you knew exactly who had done it, and you didn't plan on wasting any time.
the cries and shouts of your friends, begging for you to stick around and handle it with them, followed you as you ran. you couldn't have taken the twinkie; it, too, had been practically pissed all over by rafe cameron. so, you ran. you ran as fast as your legs could carry you, and you didn't stop. not even when their pleads began to falter.
the figure eight was the paradise's paradise. the part of the island rich folk loved to step over in order to piss all over the cut's population. while you worked two jobs, their people owned two houses. it was a way to reassure everybody that there would always be balance, whether you liked it or not. by the time you had gotten there, you could practically feel the shift in the atmosphere.
playing golf was one of rafe's favorite activities, alongside drinking, snorting lines, and apperantly, vandalizing. you were out of breath as you watched him from a safe distance, hybrid golf club in his grip as he swung it back carefully, his concentration glued to nothing but the miniature ball on the tee in the grass. if you had been in the right mind, you would've definitely had a more thought-out, synchronized plan, but you were running on a few hours of sleep, panting like a dog, watching rafe cameron's smug, smug smirk as his club hit the ball with a smack. there was nothing thought-out, nor synchronized, about what you were doing.
he hadn't heard any of it, nor had he seen it coming. you ran towards him as fast as you could, despite the lack of oxygen in your lungs. he hadn't noticed a thing until your bodies finally collided, as you tackler him onto the ground. his club was tossed to the side, the ball flying into the distance as you sat on him, a groan of pain passing his lips as his eyes opened, but he had no chance to react.
“vandalizing my fucking house? isn't that a bit too pogue for your taste?” you practically spat at him, knees pressed around his waist as you held his arms down. “what the fuck is your problem, cameron?” he struggled against your touch, a growing stern look in his eyes as he grunted, grabbing onto your wrists and pushing you onto the grass. despite the fight you put up, he was the one on top of you now.
“went to give your bag back,” he began explaining, grip tightening the more you struggled. “how do you thank me? by giving me a clear view of the klepto tearing you a new one? really?” you didn't know when you had stopped struggling. all you knew was that you had found yourself staring into the kook's eyes, heart softening as you caught your breath. you hadn't noticed how blue his eyes really were up until that point.
for a while, it was quiet. awkwardness filled the air as your position didn't change, but his grip loosened. “how much did you see?” you murmured softly. as his grip loosened, so did his anger. so did yours. he found himself peeling his body off yours, using a hand to pull you up and sit you next to him. “more than i wanted to, thanks.” his tone was colder than anticipated.
you couldn't wrap your mind around the fact that he was bugged—enough to turn your front yard into a crime scene. “what's it to you, rafe?” he didn't answer, it wasn't helping you get anywhere anytime soon. “it's just sex between you and maybank, isn't it?” hesitantly, you answered with a nod. you couldn't believe you were actually discussing your sex life with rafe cameron. “yeah, i figured. all the guys in the world that'd show you the world, and you go for the guy that can only show you his bedroom.”
a scoff passed your lips as you took definite offense, it was as if he was calling you out for decisions that had nothing to do with him. “go fuck yourself, cameron,” you began to stand up, brushing away the loose grass off yours knees, but rafe didn't budge. “you ever been to corolla?” you stopped on your tracks, looking back at rafe, who had his eyes glued to the field in front of him. “meet me back here at eight, tonight.”
the nerve he had was absolutely unbelievable. once again, you found yourself scoffing at the pogue. “and why the hell would i do that?” this time, he was the one turning around, peeling his eyes off the scenery before him. “because,” he smirked. “i dropped the charges, you owe me.”
relief was all you could feel once you had come back to an empty house. the mess was still more than present, but no one was there. a sigh of relief passed your lips as you pushed past the unlocked door, back sliding down the wall as you buried your face in your knees. all you could do was think.
why was rafe cameron so concerned about you and your love life? why was he so keen on meeting you tonight? why were you so comfortably going along with his bullshit? your head cocked to the side as your phone buzzed, a message reaching you from an unknown number.
NO CALLER ID: don't be late 2night
wear smthn nice
- rafe
you rolled your eyes at the unnecessary signature. “signing his own damn message,” you muttered under your breath in disbelief. it was such a rafe thing to do, you couldn't help but smile.
with the door locked, despite the ongoing presence of the mess made in your yard, you had the entire chateau to yourself. the time you had to yourself was usually spent on doing the dishes, cooking, cleaning the house, hanging the clothes out to dry, taking care of the others. rare occurences such as the one at hand were an easy way to fix up your mood.
rarely did you ever get to focus on yourself. grateful for the hot water in the boiler, you treated yourself to a hot shower. thanking god for electricity, you let an old fan try your hair instead of the usual sunray routine. with freshly painted nails and newly dried hair, you allowed yourself the freedom of a new makeup routine. you knew your brother would flip if he saw you, so you made sure to hurry. you couldn't deal being interrogated, especially if it meant having to lie to him and your friends.
so, you kept your cool. you admired yourself, for the first time in a long time, you looked like yourself. not a tired, over-worked pogue, but a diamond, one that had been hiding in the rust. your hair was clean, wavy, with no more traces of sea salt. your nails were clean, trimmed, freshly-painted with a new coat. your figure was wrapped by a yellow sundress, admiring every curve of your figure, the color embracing your tan lines. the makeup, though subtle at the first glance, was your finest work of all. you made sure the coast was clear before slipping into your heels and onto your bike, into the settling dusk.
the island seemed different once nighttime rolled around. it was as if the ongoing sequence of fights, tension and bloodshed finally came to a halt. it was a temporary halt, but a halt of some sort, nonetheless. as you passed by trees and markets that had been closed for the day, you found yourself once again wandering back to rafe cameron. the possibility of him being a decent human being, with a heart, always found its way back to you.
the tannyhill plantation was one of the island's most beautiful manors. the first thing you had noticed while hopping off your bike, was that all of the lights had been shut off. all of them, except for the one in rafe's room. you shot a puzzled look at your phone, seeing as you hadn't received a single new message from him. hesitant to approach the front door, afraid of any sort of backlash, you found yourself frozen in your place.
your eyes remained glued to the white fence surrounding the villa, along with the balcony that led to rafe's illuminated room. for a while, you found yourself in a trance, eyes stuck on the way the lights flickered. shit, they flickered for a long while, before going completely still. your heart softened once he came into your view, you could see him walking towards you, but never noticing you. he had his eyes on his tie, fingers fiddling with the fabric as he tightened it. at first glance, it seemed as if he was finishing up in order to reach a certain level of presentabilituly for you. his hair was neat, pulled back with loose strands garnishing his forehead. it you hadn't been harboring so much hatred the past few years, you'd be drooling by then.
you watched him with careful eyes, gaze locked on his figure and you prayed that he'd notice you soon enough. for a split second, he turned around, a smile forming on his face as he did so. you furrowed your eyebrows, attempting to follow his gaze, to see what had caught his attention all of a sudden. there was no need for that. you found yourself frozen in your tracks as the picture came into place for you, bike falling to your side as you stared in shock.
you couldn't make out the woman that came up from behind him, the one dressed in a pink robe with her wet, brown bangs plastered to her forehead. all you knew was that she was a half-naked female with a glass of wine in her hand, wrapping herself around rafe as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. you watched him smile as he pulled her in, but you didn't miss the way he looked back at you. he looked back, eyes locking with yours for only a split second, as if he was telling you, “tied, we're tied.”
the entire trip back was rushed. you had given up the minute you realized you had given in. speeding away on your bicycle, you cursed at yourself for trusting him the way you did, ignoring the way your phone buzzed in the pocket of your sundress. your vision was blurry as you sped past the same scenery you had passed an hour ago, vigorously rubbing the tears away, smearing the make-up you had spent hours perfecting.
“no no no, fuck,” you whispered under your breath as you stopped the bike, heels digging into the ground as you pulled up into the yard. the lights were on, door unlocked, much unlike how you had left the house. you gulped, throat thick with tears and worry as you tried to make your way up the stairs as quietly as possible. if anyone were to catch you, you knew you'd be hit with hell's worth of questions.
whether it was jj inside, your brother, anyone. the result would've been the same. you sniffled, as quiet as ever, pulling the doorknob open as you peeled your heels off, careful to avoid any clicking noises. the living room was empty, the only noise being your heart pounding in your chest. the coast was clear, from what it seemed like.
“where the hell've you been?” froze. you froze in your tracks, for what may as well have been the tenth time that day. heels in one hand, handbag in the other, you carefully turned to the source of the sound. as you did so, you found your brother leaning against the wooden walls, his face stern as he analyzed you. “out,” you tried to play it off as cool as possible, letting your shoes drop to the floor. he scoffed, “out? yet here you are, crying, your make-up melting,” you found yourself avoiding his gaze once again, flinching at your younger brother's harsh tone. “i'm not asking again, where were you? where'd you go, (y/n)?”
all he wanted was to know you were alright, that you were okay. it's what encouraged his episodes, where he found himself screaming at you one day, worried sick, and apologizing the morning after. “i've had a long night, john b,” you finally snapped, watching the way his expression faltered. “we can talk about it tomorrow.” as hot-headed as he was, he knew you were the more stubborn one. with a huff, he retreated, kicking his legs over the couch. you ditched your handbag and shoes as you stormed off, making sure you slammed your door shut as you did so.
NO CALLER ID: didn't feel good, did it?
you see what i was talking abt??
the least u could do is answer
i overdid it i'm sorry
routledge come on i didn't mean to go so far
please answer
pick up ur phone don't get me worried
you failed to notice the way your phone lit up with messages, the screen lighting up with a buzz each time you had received a new notification from rafe. mainly because you had ditched your phone a while ago, leaving it to buzz above and beyond on the surface of the living room table. what you had so desperately failed to consider was who had complete access to those messages, an entrance to your situation.
john b clutched your phone, allowing it to vibrate, allowing the messages to come in at a fixed pace. his eyes were blank as he read every single text you had received, listening to the muffled sobs from the other side of the door. you were completely unaware, having forgotten that having a little brother meant having a nosy companion, at best. his expression hadn't planned on faltering, not until the last few messages rolled in.
NO CALLER ID: please meet me tomorrow
by the docks
i have to tell u smthn in person
- rafe
unlike his previous fits of rage, john b felt as if it was different this time. instead of punching the walls around him, instead of calling up jj in order to break into the camerons' villa with extra protection, he turned the phone off. a sense of peace struck him from the inside, as if he had an epiphany right then and there. as the sound of stiffled crying filled his ears, he felt himself falling back onto the couch. he wasn't stressed, nor was he scared. he allowed a silent rage to consume him, this time. because, he had a plan, and as far as he was concerned, rafe didn't know that he knew. a smile graced his lips as his eyes fluttered shut, knowing that the upper hand would be his.
from the comfort of your own room, you found yourself staring back at your tear-stained pillow. the make-up you had carefully touched up was evident on nothing but your pillowcase. you sniffled, bringing a hand up to wipe away your excess tears as you allowed yourself a moment of peace. the moment of peace and quiet you had spent with your head tucked in your knees was short-lived, if anything.
the sound of a KTM supermoto being revved up had a very specific sound, and a very loud one, at that. you jolted in your spot on the bed as the sound of a running engine filled your ears, as if was right next to your head. with the overflowing curiosity in place, you pressed your ear to the thin wall behind your head, scared to make any sudden movements, in case of potential threats.
“(y/n), i know you're in there,” the all-too familiarity of the voice pounded in your ears as your heart skipped a beat. you gulped, a shiver trailing down your spine. “come out here, i wanna apologize.”
the first few minutes you had spent ignoring his pleas, you remained focused on the light in your room you had forgotten to turn off. it seemed like all the lights in the world were your greatest foes as you cursed yourself for forgetting. the entire house was pitch black, except for your room, and it was too late for you to go back. your focus shifted the minute you heard a harsh sound next to your head, as if rafe had started throwing rocks at your window. it was what pushed you past your breaking point, knowing john b could wake up at any second.
“what do you want, rafe?” you were breathless after pulling your window open, staring at the tall boy just feet away from your window. he frowned as he took a few steps forward, “wanna talk to you, please.” if you weren't in the biggest state of disbelief you'd ever been in, you would've assumed he was being genuine.
“post-nut must've hit hard if you wanna talk to me,” you spat, a humorless laugh following. he studied the way black, tear-slick streaks trailed down your cheeks, the way your dress looked as if a cow had chewed on it. even during your worst hour, you were a knockout. “we didn't fuck, dammit,” he snapped back, inhaling deeply as he tried to keep his cool. “sofia and i didn't fuck, i just needed you to feel how i felt that night.”
none of it made any sense to you, absolutely none of it. you scoffed, “i don't fucking get you, rafe.” you watched the way his eyes lightened as he sighed, taking the last few steps needed to look you in the eyes. he was inches away, still able to tower above you despite being outside. “i don't understand, either,” he admitted. “i don't understand why you make me feel the way i do, or why seeing you with him makes me angry. i wanna understand, but i don't.”
was it a confession? a semi-confession, maybe. you wanted to scream, you wanted to cry. to close your window shut, drop the blinds, and hide under your bed. not specifically from rafe, but from the thoughts that consumed you. if you didn't relate to his words, why did you run? why did you cry all the way home? why did you feel as if someone had ripped your heart out of your chest? “i know you feel it, too, (y/n).” he didn't have to say anything, you knew he was right.
“you gotta be quiet, rafe,” your voice was barely above a whisper. his face was just inches away from yours, and you could feel the way your breathing elevates. now, you could really see how blue his eyes were. blue and bright. “john b's asleep. if he hears us, it's over.” you wondered if you had seen a more genuine smile on his face than in that moment. it wasn't a smug smirk, or a taunting laugh. just a smile.
“yeah, i can do that,” his voice matched your tone perfectly, “i can be quiet for you.”
you hadn't exactly been counting on it happening so fast, but you didn't budge when he closed the distance between your faces. inches away only minutes prior, he had finally pressed his lips to yours. you felt your breath hitch, eyes widening as you tensed up at the foreign sensation. it was supposed to feel wrong, it was supposed to make you scream, curse him out for coming near you, anything of the sort. the exact opposite had taken place. once you had relaxed, your eyes fluttered shut, lips moving to match his movement.
when he had pulled away, his face was flushed, “tell me this means you forgive me,” the plea had left his mouth before he could stop himself, alongside the nod you had been fighting back. you had just kissed rafe cameron. “meet me by the dock in the morning, around nine, is that okay?” you found yourself taking in every single word that he sounded out, agreeing with nothing but a simple nod. he smiled at how you went along, despite the evident shock on your face, before departing once more. not before placing a kiss onto your forehead.
you made sure to shut the window the second he had driven off again, determined to be as quiet as possible. once you had done so, you felt yourself falling onto your bed once more. it felt as if you had swallowed your heart, like it was thumping excessively in your stomach. you didn't know what you were feeling—relief, if anything. relief, knowing he truly didn't have it in him to touch another girl. at least, not in fronr of you. you couldn't help but wonder why you felt so relieved, next to millions of other things, why did the thought of him with her bug you so much?
the thought itself consumed you to the point of no return as your eyes fluttered, mind going hazy as you thought of his last words. by the dock, at nine o'clock in the morning. you were so focused on his words that you failed to recognize the breathing behind your door. the breathing of the same person who had been listening the entire time. perhaps, that would be tomorrow's problem.
tomorrow's problem came faster than anticipated. at precisely eight o'clock in the morning, john b woke up, and for the first time in a long time, he woke up without the usual dread he carried on his shoulders. no, this time, he woke up with a smile on his face. if anything, he was motivated.
he had pushed past your door, careful not to make any sudden sounds as he entered, a sigh of relief passing his lips once he saw that you were still asleep. for a while, he found himself staring at you. his big sister, you were all he had, and he couldn't stand the thought of losing you. especially not to someone like rafe. with one last look, he shut the door, promising himself that he wouldn't let it come to that.
by the time you had woken up, it was thirty minutes past eight o'clock, and your brother was long gone. your eyes fluttered open, heart fluttering as the realization dawned upon you. in thirty minutes, you would be face-to-face with rafe once again. your brother's disappearance didn't mean much to you—you figured he was out with the others, like he usually was. the eerily extended period of zen you were feeling all came crashing down once you stepped into the living room.
your eyes trailed toward your phone, placed face-down on the living room table. the edges glimmered with light, letting you know that your phone had not only been moved, but unlocked and accessed. your suspicions came to life as you turned it around, your breath hitching at the sight of rafe's messages on the screen, opened and read. it was no coincidence, you knew your brother too well for it to be one.
in due time, your suspicions would've proved right. rafe had been waiting by the dock, as he had promised you the previous night. he would never admit how nervous he was feeling, pulling his phone out and checking for your responses, only to be met with the fact that you had read and ignored them. he found himself biting him nails, pacing around the flooring out in the open as he searched for a sign that you'd come.
“expecting someone?” he didn't fear the familiar voice, but it was definitely unexpected. as he turned around, he pressed his eyes shut, a feeling of annoyance gnawing away at his patience. once he turned around, he was met with john b, an empty expression on his face. “not who you were expecting, i'm sure.”
rafe scoffed as he took a step forward, “where the hell is she, john b?” your brother took the following step, closing more than enough distance between them to earn a few stares. “you've got no business talking to my sister, that's all i'm gonna tell you,” he snarled. he had no idea, had no clue about anything regarding the situation. rafe didn't know what to say, he had nothing left to use against him.
“maybank's been screwing your sister,” the bomb that had dropped in that moment wasn't apart of rafe's plan. it was his back-up plan, fueled by pure jealousy and nothing more. “you're worried about the wrong guy, routledge.”
despite the closeness between the two men, john b felt his look soften at the newly-obtained information. for a second, a split second, he felt himself calm down, as if he had realized he was up the wrong guy's ass. then again, why wouldn't rafe lie to save himself? a cameron, a kook. it was in his nature to double-cross. when he had convinced himself that rafe was lying, what followed next was inevitable.
rafe allowed his head to fall back as he stumbled, the feeling of john b's fist colliding with the underside of his chin. as he fell back, he watched john b approach him with heavy steps, a crowd beginning to form around the two of them. “here's a message from my sister,” he crouched, meeting rafe at an eye-to-eye level. “whatever it is you're feeling, she wants nothing to do with it.”
despite the hit he had just endured, what he was listening to then and there seemed to have pained him more. for a second, he didn't consider it. he saw the look in your eyes the previous night, a look that matched what he felt perfectly. the consideration lasted a split second, before he remembered, you were a pogue. at the end of the day, you were a pogue.
by the time you were ready to leave your house, the sound of your door opening and closing rang in your ears. you had been taking your time, wanting to look approachable for the conversation you had been waiting for the entire night. for a second, you could breathe normally once more. if that was john b back so soon, it could only mean not much damage could've been done. you held onto the possibility as you left the bathroom, rushing to the hallway, where he stood silently.
the first thing you noticed was how his knuckles were littered with bruises, only a few, but it was enough to cause you to panic. “what the hell did you do?” he silenced the end of your question with the raise of his hand, and you knew it was serious. “just answer one thing,” he paused. “did you fuck jj?”
you didn't even have time to consider the fear coursing through yours veins. betrayed, you felt betrayed. rafe had gone and stabbed you in the back, using the secret you had trusted him with against you. not just with anybody, but with your younger brother. “that's nobody's business, jb.” his hand collided with the wall, causing you to jolt as you took a step back. “you can both go to hell,” he sneered, pushing past you as he entered the living room. you called out for him, wanting nothing more than to explain yourself, but it was no use. “give my condolences to rafe.”
it wasn't the need to explain yourself that led you to the camerons' villa, but rather the urge to rip his head off and finish the job—the lingering empty void that had formed after seeing the lack of messages from him. something was wrong, but you didn't know what it was. surely, he wasn't angry at you. not for something your brother had done entirely on his own.
from the inside of his dark room, rafe felt his blood boil. betrayal, he felt betrayed. he had truly believed you were different, seeing as you had awoken something in him. something that led him to levels of jealousy and hard work he didn't even know existed. he couldn't believe it, he saw the look in your eyes that night. there was no way anybody could feign it. the thoughts that engulfed him sent him down a spiral of insanity, a yell bouncing off the walls as he threw his phone onto the floor, letting the material crack beneath his feet.
you couldn't have been bothered to wait under his balcony again, instead running towards the main entrance. before you could knock, a familiar face popped out from the side, as if she had been counting on your arrival. “thank god you're here,” sarah exclaimed as she pulled you in for a hug. though puzzled, you hugged her back. “he's been acting like a dick all day, he won't talk to anyone.” you deemed it strange, how sarah knew that you were the person rafe needed to talk to.
“what makes you think i can do shit about it?” you questioned, but the input, as if silly, only earned you a giggle. “come on, you're not dense,” she continued to laugh as she unlocked the door, pushing it open. “you should hear how he talks about you when he isn't pretending ti hate you, it's priceless.” you were barely given a chance to react as sarah ushered you into the house, showing you exactly which way to go.
up the stairs you went, leaving her behind as you followed the light onto the second floor. sarah's room was open, a familiarity to it despite having only seen it twice in your life. wheezie's room was next to it, with rafe's room right across, on the other side of the hall. the only room with the door shut tight. as you approached it, you began to severely doubt yourself. sarah was supposed to know best, but she wasn't exactly close to her brother. despite how hesitant you were, you still found yourself knocking.
the sweet sound of silence followed shortly after, only encouraging you to knock again. this time, you allowed your voice to pierce the quiet. “rafe, please let me in,” silence. sweet silence. “it's (y/n), please open the door.” the silence that followed was abruptly cut by the presence on the other side, the door finally creaking open.
you stood there, frail in comparison, as rafe stood in front of you. his eyes, though dark at first, lightened at the sight of you. in comparison, you felt your eyes widen, hands involuntarily reaching out to inspect the harsh bruise on his chin. he flinched at your touch, but didn't protest. “john b,” you exhaled, regretting thinking your brother wasn't capable of much damage. “he did this, didn't he?” rafe didn't offer much of an answer, almost embarrassed as he opened the door, stepping aside to let you in.
you stepped into the room, eyes wandering as rafe closed the door. it was your first time seeing his room. much like the rest of the villa, it was gorgeous. spacious, modern. rafe sat on the bed, right across from the spot you stood on. “thanks for telling my brother all about my sexcapades,” was the first thing you couldn't stop from tumbling out of your mouth. “i trusted you, rafe. i trusted you, and you still went behind my back.”
once again, he found himself on his feet, “you wanna talk about trust, really?” he ignored the puzzled look on your face. “let's talk about how you sent your brother to cave my face in and tell me that you don't want shit to do with me. yet, here you are, for whatever fuckin' reason. what the hell do you want from me?”
his words flew past your head like daggers, each one finding a new and improved way to leave their mark on you. you couldn't express your confusion well enough, “sent my brother? rafe, you can't possibly be serious.” he was quick to cut you off, pacing around his room as he ran ha hand through his hair. “sent your fucking brother, just like he told me. said he was delivering a message from you.” your eyes dropped at the sight of his phone on the floor, shattered completely.
you didn't know what to say. you were aware of how protective your brother was, everybody knew it as much as you did, but there were lines that shouldn't have been crossed. you found yourself walking up to rafe as he circled his footsteps, grabbing a hold of his wrists in order to get his attention. “rafe, i swear to god,” you paused, locking eyes with him. “i didn't send john b after you, i didn't tell him anything. i told you to stay quiet last night because i didn't want him to hear, jesus.”
you weren't sure at first, but rafe had finally settled despite the disbelief still present, “you really expect me to believe he found everything out on his own?” with a huff, you let go of his wrists as you dropped to the floor, back sliding down the wall as you went through all of the possibilities.
“my phone was in the living room with him,” you admitted. “he was the one reading your messages, not me. that's how he got there before i could, and came back before i could leave. told me you told him jj and i had sex, and that's it.”
rafe had finally calmed down, more than he had expected. amidst the silence, he found himself dropping down across from you. his heart began to beat at a steady pace, the realization finally settling—you were telling the truth, the entire time. he felt awful for doubting you the way he did. “i'm sorry for telling him about you and maybank,” your head shot up at his words. getting an apology from him was the last thing on your bucket list. “i was jealous, shit. didn't think he'd blow up the way he did. he mad at you?”
you nodded almost immediately, unable to hold your laughter back as you recalled his short fuse. “yeah,” you looked back at rafe. “seems like you got the shorter end of the stick, though.”
his bruise had turned into a pale shade of purple, decorated with bits of red and blue. when you had touched him this time, he didn't flinch. his eyes fluttered shut as you caressed the bruise with your thumb, watching for any reactions to the pain. “i'll be okay,” he assured you, but it didn't stop you. “it'll go away in a few days.”
for a while, you sat in silence. it wasn't the awkward kind, but rather the pleasant kind. during the entire time, you found yourself melting more and more into his touch, allowing him to pull you into his embrace for the first time. the right way. your hand never left his bruise, gentle strokes gracing his chin. “where do we go from here?” it was your question that broke the silence, and rafe looked at you softly. he admired the way you fit in his arms perfectly, the way your chest moved up and down as you made yourself comfortable against his touch.
“i like you,” was all he could muster up in that moment. “can't stand the way maybank had you. he took what i've been praying for all these years.” the confession, though touching, couldn't help but make you smile. “must be why you've been such a dick all this time,” he nodded in agreement, and it really had you thinking.
the silence frightened him, making his heart skip a beat. perhaps you were looking for a way to let him down easy? perhaps you wanted to be with jj, and not him? countless thoughts passed his train of thought as he watched you stare at the walls, as if contemplating. “all my life, i've never felt what i've been feeling these past few days,” you had finally broken the silence. “thought you'd leave my mind after you chose not to press charges, but you never did.” once again, he could relax. “i like you, rafe. i really like you.”
god, if your brother could see you. if any of your friends could have seen the position you were in, if they could have heard the words leaving your mouth, they'd lose their shit. they'd go completely off the rails. however, in that moment specifically, none of them mattered. you turned to the side, facing rafe and his look of shock with a proud smile on your face. with no need for any more words, meaningful or not, you allowed yourself to close the distance as you pressed your lips to his. this time, you were the one taking action, a look in your eyes that told him, “tied, we're tied.”
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ringsofsaturnnnn · 1 year
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— [🪐] ·˚ ༘ ✎ 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 | 𝐚. 𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐫𝐭
𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 :: it’s no secret that most people see armin as a sweet, innocent little thing. i mean, how couldn’t you? his sweeter than honey smile, bright blue eyes, and gentle voice pulls everyone in! however, what happens when you end up finding out that little mr. perfect isn’t as nice as everyone thinks he is?
𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨(𝘴) 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴 :: fem bodied reader, porn with a plot (kinda), manipulative!armin, jealous!armin, pervy!armin, mean!armin, ooc!armin, swearing, dark content as armin is kinda manipulative, armin sorta shames you for what you wear at one point, nsfw themes - armin jacking off to you, oral (female receiving), breeding kink, slight choking, light dacryphilia (armin likes seeing you cry), fingering, virgin reader, overstim, pet names/endearing terms (honey, baby, sweet girl, etc.), slight dumbification. all characters are aged up & are in college. if i missed anything just let me know!
𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦 :: this is my first time ever writing something like this so if it sucks i’m so sorry 😭. i really hope it makes sense.. i feel like the plot just kinda fell apart but oh well. i’ve just been having extreme brainrot for armin. big thanks to my friend @oyusumi​ for beta reading like.. half of this and inspiring me to finally post.
© 2023 ringsofsaturn | please don't copy or repost my works! i have not given permission to anyone to repost my works. reblogs/comments/likes are okay!
𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘤𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘥
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your head moved back and forth to the music playing through your headphones as you looked through your notes in the notebook in front of you. you had been studying nonstop for the upcoming german test, however, it seemed like all your studying was futile. you still couldn’t understand how to pronounce, nor spell, certain words. it was just getting frustrating because it seemed that no matter how hard you tried, you still just couldn’t get it.
letting out a groan, you ripped your headphones out of your ears and started packing your notes up. you needed to get out of the library. this studying was starting to drive you nuts. as you were packing, you heard someone’s voice behind you. turning, you saw your friend eren. “oh, hey eren.” you smiled as you shoved the last notebook in your bag. 
“hey. you looked frustrated. do you need help with anything?” many people pegged eren as the stupid type who didn’t do his homework and was passing school by the skin of his teeth, which was ironic, because he was a great student. he practically had straight a’s with the occasional b+. “oh no, don’t worry about it. i was just getting frustrated while studying for the german test.” you shrugged as you swung your backpack over your shoulder and grabbed your phone.
“oh, here! let me help you,” eren sat down in the empty seat and looked at you. “well, come on.” giving him a hesitant glance, you sighed. “are you sure? i don’t want to be a bother..” he nodded and you couldn’t help but smile. “fine.” setting your bag down, you unzipped it and grabbed the notebook you were previously looking at.
unknowingly to the both of you, a certain blonde was watching you two out of the corner of his eye. he couldn’t stop the anger building inside of him. it should of been him helping you, not eren. armin was the brightest kid in school, no doubt. he was a straight a+ student who had a 4.0 gpa. sure, he spent most of his days studying, but it showed as almost every teacher favored him and wished every student was as bright as he was. 
the sound of your laughter pulled armin from his thoughts. he looked up and saw your head resting against eren’s shoulder as you laughed at something he said. gripping his pencil tightly, he looked at the blank white paper, lined with blue stripes, in front of him. he just couldn’t think. couldn’t focus. not when you entered his mind.
armin was obsessed with you.
plain and simple. there was no other way to explain it. to others, and even you, his gestures were sweet. he was a true gentleman. he held doors open for you, walked you to your next class at the expense of being late to his own, gave you his notes if you missed something, and would even offered you his jacket if certain classrooms were too cold for you.
day after day, you never left armin’s thoughts. you were always on his mind, in more ways than one. what seems like a harmless crush continued to grow and grow until it turned into a deep infatuation with you. many would call this unhealthy, but to armin, it was perfectly fine. in his eyes, how couldn’t he be obsessed with you? everything you did was just perfect.
“armin? hey, armin!” shaking his head, armin looked up and saw eren. “you okay? i’ve been calling your name for a few minutes now.” eren chuckled and sat down next to his friend. “oh? yeah, i’m fine. just spaced out.” armin responded, adding a fake laugh at the end to sound more believable. he continued to speak with eren, growing tired of the small talk. he made up an excuse so he could leave and eren nodded. “mhm, see you later.”
getting up, armin headed towards the door of the library. something on the table that you had been sitting at caught his eye. stopping and looking, he saw your phone. he glanced around and made sure no one was looking before pocketing it and heading out. 
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once armin entered his room, he threw his bag to the side and immediately started examining your phone. hitting the power button, your lock screen lit up his face. it was a picture of you, armin, mikasa, and eren. he couldn’t stop the smile that toyed at the edge of his lips at the thought of you seeing his face every time you opened your phone.
he swiped up and the phone asked for a passcode. chuckling, he easily typed in the six-digit code to unlock your phone. he had seen you type the passcode in when you sat beside him at lunch one day. your face id hadn’t been working and you made a comment about nearly forgetting your passcode because you always used your face id.
the second he was in, he paused. this was wrong. he knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself. he needed to see what was on your phone. he needed to know that you were safe. clicking on your messages, he noticed that his conversation was pinned. his heart swelled at the thought. you had his conversation pinned. along with his, you had eren, mikasa, and the group chat all 4 of you shared pinned.
after he finished smiling about the fact that his conversation was pinned, he started reading your other messages. most of your conversations were, in his opinion, stupid. you mainly texted sasha about different recipes you had made or how she was doing on homework. your conversations with connie were basically him inappropriately flirting with you (which made armin quite upset) or telling stupid jokes back and forth. he occasionally asked you for answers to homework, which didn’t shock armin one bit. jean’s texts with you were dry and dull, nothing interesting there. 
the conversations that caught his eye were your texts with mikasa and eren. since they were your good friends, you, of course, had more interesting messages with them. eren’s texts with you were mostly about hanging out and how you two were feeling. armin couldn’t help but feel a spike of jealousy. you never texted him about your feelings, so why did you go to eren? had he not proven that he was trustworthy enough? what made armin see red was the pictures eren had been sending you. shirtless pictures, him at the gym, pictures where his pants were hanging dangerously low on his hips. he was disgusted as he scrolled through the texts. you had told him more than once that you weren’t interested, so why wasn’t eren getting the fucking hint?
having enough of eren, he went to your conversation with mikasa. he felt himself calm down as he read your texts with her. you mainly talked about your struggles with certain classes (which armin made note of so he could help you later) and your feelings. he didn’t mind you talking to mikasa about your feelings because he knew that mikasa was very important to you and would offer you good advice. 
just when he was about to be done snooping through your messages, he saw his name. scrolling up a little further, he couldn’t help but read what you said about him. his eyes quickly scanned the words, the smile on his face growing wider and wider with each passing second.
you had a crush on him?
he continued to stare at your messages with mikasa, not being able to pull his eyes away from that simple message. you, a beautiful, ethereal angel, had a crush on him? it was almost like a dream come true. armin even pinched himself a few times just to make sure he was seeing this correctly. 
shaking his head, he finally swiped up and exited your messages. he scrolled through the pages on your phone, admiring your phone theme. he remembered you ranting about how long it took you to make it look as nice as it did. he looked through all your apps, less than impressed with some of them. why the heck did you need so many apps?
just as he was about to finish his snooping and call it a day, his mind wandered to your photos. should he? scrolling over to the photo icon on your homescreen, his finger hovered over it. he knew this was wrong but.. fuck it. he already had your phone, so why not? clicking the icon, he was immediately met with all your photos. 
he gulped and regained his composure before starting to look through them. a lot of your photos were of your pets. of course they were though, you loved your pets. you had some pictures of different drinks or foods you got to have. different places you’ve visited. lots and lots of photos of you and your friends. swiping out of your camera roll, he looked at all your albums. you had.. a lot.
pets 
yummy things
fun places
friends
the album that made him smile was called “armin.” he had his own album in your phone? clicking on it, it asked for face id, much to armin’s surprise. you could lock photo albums? it obviously denied him every time he tried to use his face. he was starting to grow frustrated before it asked to enter the passcode. smiling, he typed in the code. bingo. 
the album opened up and revealed all the photos of you and armin and just armin, which gave him a satisfied smirk. eren didn’t have an album all to himself. he had finally managed to one-up eren. 
he scrolled through the hundreds of photos, smiling and laughing at a few. he could recall almost every moment that had been frozen in time in these pictures. his favorite photo was the one where you were kissing his cheek. you two happened to be underneath some mistletoe that sasha had hung in a doorway. being teased by all your friends, you kissed his cheek while historia unknowingly took a picture. 
his cheeks were flushed at the memory of your soft, warm lips against his skin. swiping out of that album, he saw one last one, hidden far behind the other albums. it was titled “n/a,” which he found odd. n/a meant not available or not applicable, which made no sense. those pictures were obviously available, so why put them in a folder entitled otherwise? clicking on it, he realized that this too was locked. sighing, he continued to be denied because of face id before being able to punch in the passcode.
when the album opened up, he jumped and turned red. this album was full of pictures of.. of you. however, not just any pictures, risky pictures. in some pictures you were in nothing but a bra and underwear. in other photos you used your hair to cover your (obviously) bare chest. he continued to scroll through these photos, his cheeks becoming embarrassingly warm. he couldn’t deny that he was extremely turned on. 
it wasn’t long before his pants felt uncomfortably tight. unbuckling his belt, he slowly pulled his jeans down to his knees and slipped his hand into his underwear, feeling how hard he was. “oh shit..” he mumbled before slipping his underwear down as well, allowing his cock to spring free.
gently rubbing his thumb over the tip, he let out a small gasp. “mmm, fuck!” he whined. he continued to use his thumb to spread pre-cum all over his tip and down the rest of his length. he couldn’t help it, it just felt so good. as he did this, armin let his thoughts wander. he imagined it was you. you sitting on your knees in front of him, teasing him with your fingers. your mouth. your tongue. 
with a quiet moan of your name, he started rubbing himself due to how uncomfortably hard he was. “oh.. oh please..” he squeezed his eyes shut as he continued to imagine you pleasuring him. bucking his hips into his fist, his moans continued to rise in volume. his cheeks were flushed as his mouth hung open ever so slightly. his pace became more and more erratic the more he pumped his length. 
opening his eyes, he clicked on a random picture in the photo album. it just happened to be a picture of you squeezing your boobs together, revealing your cleavage. it wasn’t long before he felt his stomach tighten. “m-m’ gonna cum!” he cried out, even though no one could hear him. loud whines left his soft pink lips as white ropes painted his stomach. “oh, please,” he whimpered as he slowly came down from his high. armin rubbed his sensitive tip with thumb and looked down at his stomach, watching it rise and fall with his breathing. although armin didn’t work out as frequently as eren did, he still had a decently chiseled chest and well-defined abs. a few strands of cum dripped down his abs towards his v-line.
he frowned as he looked at the picture on the phone screen. he wished he could have came on your chest, or inside of you, instead of his stomach, but for now, it would have to do. armin glanced at your phone screen one last time before he shut it off, watching as the screen turned black. he pulled his pants up before getting up and heading towards the bathroom. when he felt his feet hit the cold tile, he flipped the light switch on before heading towards his shower. he listened to the water thunder against the plastered shower floor before starting to disrobe.
once he had rid himself of all his clothes, he opened the shower door and stepped in. the warm water immediately welcomed him like a hug, which armin was grateful for. running his hands through his hair, he felt his once tense muscles start to finally relax. he knew that once he got out of the shower, he’d have a little more fun with your phone before returning it to you the next morning. 
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you had spent the whole rest of the night and some of the morning worrying about your phone. “shit, shit, shit!” you cried as you tore your room apart for the umpteenth time. “where is it?!” it honestly looked like a tornado had hit your room. clothes were thrown everywhere, blankets askew, pillows piled up in a random corner, it looked like a royal trainwreck, that was for sure.
sitting on your bed, you buried your head in your hands and groaned. “FUCK!” you growled angrily. how could you have been so stupid? you could have swore you had your phone when you left.. wait. looking up and blinking, you let out yet another groan. you never grabbed your phone off the table once eren sat down. in an attempt to let out some anger, you grabbed the nearest stuffed animal and chucked it at the wall. you listened to it hit the wall before watching it fall to the ground. 
you continued to wallow in anger for a bit before deciding to get up and get ready for school. maybe it was still on the table. you highly doubted it, but you never knew, or, maybe eren grabbed it. as you came up with scenarios in your head, your tension started to ease a little bit.
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as you finished putting your stuff in your locker, you saw your good friend armin walk up to you. “oh, hey armin!” you flashed him a bright smile, watching as his pale cheeks turned pink. “hi. uhm, i just wanted to uh, give this to you,” armin reached into his pocket and pulled your phone out. he held it out to you, a soft smile gracing his delicate features. “i thought you might want it back.”
you couldn’t help but laugh a little before taking it. “i’ve been looking for this everywhere! thank you, thank you, thank you!” you squealed. you quickly shut your locker door before giving him a big hug. he stiffened at first, but quickly melted into your embrace. armin loved your hugs. he loved your touch. he loved you.
“where was it?!” you asked as you pulled away. armin wished the hug would have lasted longer, but he didn’t complain. “oh, it was on the table you were studying at. i saw it when i went to leave. i charged it for you.” he flashed you a smile, revealing his perfect white teeth. now it was your turn to blush. you never understood how someone could be so.. so perfect. 
“i really, really appreciate that armin. you’re too sweet.” his heart felt warm and fuzzy at your compliment, however, in the back of his mind, worry consumed him. would you still think he was sweet if you figured out he had managed to share your hidden album with himself? would you still find him sweet if you knew he downloaded all your pictures to his computer hard drive so he could fuck his fist every night to it?
the sound of the bell ringing pulled him from his worry-ridden thoughts. shaking his head, he watched as you adjusted the books in your arms. “i’ll walk you to your first class.” his blonde hair covered his forehead and reached down to his eyes. “such a gentleman.” you laughed before starting to walk away. 
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a few weeks had passed since armin had snooped through your phone. since then, he managed to grow closer to you, which led to you inviting him over more frequently, which in turn, made his obsession grow more and more. there were times where you left him at your place while you went and got take out food or some coffee from your favorite shared café. little did you know that he used this time to snoop through your room. he managed to find your diary, which he would read before carefully placing it back where it was. other times he would look through your dresser, staring at all your lingerie sets. oh how he wished he could just rip them off of your body, leaving pretty red marks on your oh so delicate skin. his mouth always salivated at the thought.
his most recent infatuation was giving you his hoodies. not only were they oversized on you (which he found incredibly adorable and hot at the same time), whenever you returned them they smelled like you, which drove him crazy. your scent was so incredibly intoxicating to him. to armin, your scent was a mixture of strawberries, lemon, and lavender. it wasn’t long before he became addicted. 
night after night he would buck his hips into his fist while wearing the hoodies that smelled like you. he would stare at your pictures, chanting your name like a mantra while he came all over his hand. he would go two or three rounds, falling asleep with his hand covered in his cum. 
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“hey armin, can you come here for a second?” the two of you had been doing homework for the past few hours. you were wearing shorts that were way too short for you and one of armin’s hoodies that he had so graciously let you borrow. “of course, give me one second,” he quickly finished writing something down before getting up and coming to sit on the couch with you. “what’s up?”
you moved closer to him, causing a small blush to appear on armin’s cheeks. “well, i’m having trouble with this math problem. i was wondering if you could help me?” the way you looked at him through your lashes, armin could have swore he about creamed his pants right then and there. “oh uhm, uh sure!” he stuttered.
you leaned down and grabbed your textbook before setting it in his lap, allowing your hand to linger on his thigh a little longer before pulling it away. armin could have swore that you were trying to give him a heart attack. every part of his body felt like it was on fire. he was just. so. warm.
“so, where do i start?” your voice pulled him from his thoughts. shaking his head, he looked at the book. for some reason, nothing was registering to him. his eyes saw the ink on the page, but his brain couldn’t understand what it was asking. “you start with.. with..” every time armin spoke, his voice just trailed off. “armin, are you feeling alright?” he felt your palm on his forehead, sending yet another wave of heat coursing through him. “yes! i’m just fine..” he carefully grabbed your hand and put it on his thigh.
he couldn’t deny the tent in his pants, but he was praying you wouldn’t notice. “fuck.. i’m so attracted to you.” he mumbled under his breath. “what did you sa-,” within a second he had picked you up and set you in his lap, forcing you to look at him. “a-armin?!” you were taken aback by his sudden actions, but you weren’t gonna lie, you were slightly turned on. 
“how long are you gonna play stupid, huh?” he grunted. shaking your head, you just looked at him. “what do you mean?” confusion swarmed your brain. play stupid? how were you playing stupid? how did you even get to this point? all you wanted was help with a simple math problem! 
“what do you mean,” he mocked. “seriously? don’t fuck with me,” he hissed through clenched teeth. “how long were you gonna sit here and fucking tease me? don’t think i didn’t notice your outfit. those shorts that are obviously too fucking short for you. your ass is practically hanging out of them. and my hoodie? i bet you don’t have anything on underneath it.” it was like armin had just flipped a switch. your once kind, innocent, friend was now basically degrading you for your choice in outfit. 
“i, i really don’t get what you mean. armin i just.. i was just trying to be cozy i really wasn’t trying to dress like a slut or anything-“ words continued to pour out of your mouth as you became painfully aware of his growing erection. “please, i’m sorry, i’ll go change..”
“no.” his voice was low, yet demanding. “you wanna dress like a slut? fine, i’ll fuck you like a slut.” your hands were starting to tremble at his words. why was he being so mean? although his rough words were turning you on, you were still soft at heart. you could feel your eyes stinging as he continued to go on, telling you how much of a whore you were. “s-stop it. stop being so mean..” your voice quivered as tears dripped down your cheeks.
you felt his hand cup your cheek as he wiped your tears. “oh honey, i’m not trying to mean. i just love you,” his voice was sickeningly sweet. “i just want you to know how mean the real world is. how if you dress like this,” he motioned to your outfit, “you’ll be called a whore. but it’s okay baby, you’re not a whore. you’re a good girl, right?” you quickly nodded, sniffling a little. “that’s what i thought.”
he wiped the new tears that had fallen down your soft cheeks before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “you’re my good girl, right?” he pulled back and cocked an eyebrow, waiting for a response. shaking your head, your voice trembled as you spoke. “mhm.. i’m your good girl.” an evil smile crossed armin’s face at your words. “of course you are.” 
he moved his hand from your cheek to the hem of his hoodie. gently toying with the edge, he started to pull it up. he was immediately met with your skin, which left him with a satisfied smirk. “i was right, baby. you aren’t wearing anything underneath my hoodie.” he chuckled as he pulled it completely off of you. looking away, you tried to cover yourself. “ah, ah, ah, you’re not gonna hide from me are you? i love you, so why would you hide from me?” 
his voice was like a trap. the second you heard it, you were stuck. he could always manage to get into your head. he would manipulate you, but part of you didn’t care. you craved his attention just as much as he craved yours. you needed armin just like he needed you, so why were you so scared of him in this moment?
“hey. i asked you a question pretty girl.” armin’s voice cut through your thoughts. looking at him, fear suddenly overtook you. this wasn’t your armin, was it? how.. how could it be? your armin held doors open for you. your armin walked you to class and locked pinkies with you when you were nervous. your armin gave you his jackets in cold classrooms, even if it meant he’d be freezing for the rest of the class period.
“quit. fucking. spacing. out.” armin wrapped his hand around your throat, gently squeezing to gain your attention once more. gasping, you weakly tried to pull his hand off your throat. “armin, you’re scaring me..” once the words left your mouth, his eyes softened and he immediately removed his hand. “oh honey, i’m not trying to scare you. i promise. i’m just trying to get your attention,” he brought your trembling body closer to his. “i wouldn’t ever hurt you.”
you didn’t realize how much you were shaking until armin held you against his steady body. more and more tears were slipping down your cheeks and were now wetting down his shirt. as he hugged your body closer to his, he unhooked your bra, allowing your breasts free of their constraints. “let me take care of you.” he whispered in your ear. nodding, you allowed him to carry you towards your bed.
thoughts swarmed your mind as armin gently set you down on your unmade bed. he made quick work of ridding you of your shorts and underwear. “who made you this wet baby?” he teased, watching as your cheeks turned a shade of pink. you covered your face with your hands, too embarrassed to say anything. “honey, i’m talking to you. now, answer me.” his voice was low when he spoke. 
“y-you did, armin..” your voice was quiet, hardly above a whisper. “be louder. i can’t hear you.” he remarked. shaking your head, you couldn’t bring yourself to be any louder. suddenly, he grabbed your hands and pinned them above your head. he got all up in your face, your noses almost touching. “fucking say it.” he growled, his hot breath fanning your face. fear coursed through your veins as you spoke quickly, afraid of upsetting him even more. “y-you did! you made me this wet, armin!” your voice was louder now, which brought a satisfied smirk to his face. “atta girl. now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
you shook your head as armin used his middle and ring fingers to gather some of your slick. you bit your tongue, trying to suppress the moan building in your throat. using his thumb, he started to rub your clit. “let me hear those pretty noises of yours, liebling.” his slow, lazy circles on your clit started to get quicker and quicker, causing you to let out a whine. “armin.. armin wait!” truth be told, you had never done this before. and by this, you meant any of this. you had never masturbated. never had sex. sure, you read stories, watched porn, and listened to your friends talk about it, but you’d never done it. 
“aw baby, what’s wrong?” he chuckled. he didn’t stop his ministrations, which caused you to whine. you tried to push him away, but it was to no avail. “i-i’ve never done this before..” you mumbled under your breath. “hm?” armin hummed as he sped his fingers up. “i-i’ve never done this!” you cried, your legs starting to shake a little. a shit-eating grin crossed armin’s features as he pulled his fingers away. it felt like you could finally catch your breath as your erratic breathing started to settle. sliding his fingers into his mouth, he sighed, satisfied. you tasted fucking heavenly. 
closing your legs, you tried to sit up, only for armin to pin you back down again. he laughed in your face, the warmth of his body radiating off of him. “oh, my sweet, sweet schatzi, you’ve been waiting for me, haven’t you? such a good fucking girl, waiting for me. you wanted me to take your virginity, didn’t you? you knew nobody else could please you like i would.” a feeling of possessiveness coursed through armin as he looked down at your features. you were made for him. now that he had you, he’d never let you go. 
you were trembling underneath armin as he slowly started kissing down your body. as he did this, he started unbuckling his belt, the noise echoing loudly in your ears. your body felt like it was on fire as armin continued to kiss your delicate skin. kicking his pants to the side, armin stopped at your plush thighs and looked up. “you look so fucking perfect like this.” he mumbled before spreading your legs. he looked at your sopping cunt, a look of hunger in his baby blue eyes. 
“i just know i’m gonna become addicted to you, more so than i already am of course..” he whispered before kissing your inner thigh. he gently nipped at the skin, causing you to squeal and try to move away from him. “stay still, damnit.” he huffed before using one of his arms to pin your waist down. he gingerly placed a kiss over the spot he bit before moving towards you dripping wet cunt. armin carefully licked a stripe up your soaking hole, relishing in the taste. it tasted like heaven to him.
he listened as you gasped at the feeling of his tongue being pressed against you. you didn’t know how to respond. it felt so weird. this was nothing like how any of your friends described it. your bare chest rose and fell as armin continued to kitten lick your cunt. his nose bumped against your clit, causing you to moan. “a-armin!” you cried as you allowed one of your hands to grasp his soft, blonde hair. he smirked before moving his mouth away. you looked down at him, his mouth covered in your essence. your cheeks felt as if they were on fire as he moved his free hand down towards your messy cunt.
you felt his fingers press against your hole, causing your eyes to widen. “w-wait!” you weren’t going to lie, you were scared. “it’s okay baby, i’ve got you. just relax.” he smiled before pushing his middle finger into you. your walls clenched around him, causing him to smirk. you were so damn tight. he honestly couldn’t wait to fuck you. if you were squeezing his finger this much, just imagine how much you’d squeeze his dick.
“armin.. it feels weird..” you whimpered. “it’s okay baby. you just have to relax. you have to trust me.” he started pumping his finger in and out, trying to get you used to the feeling. the lewd noises had you gasping for air. “armin, please..” tears welled in your eyes again as you carefully bucked your hips a little. “there you go.” he cooed before carefully adding another finger. you felt your body start to relax as pleasure overtook your senses. “oh shit..” you mumbled.
armin could tell that you were finally starting to relax, which made him happy. he slowly started to speed his fingers up before leaning down and sucking on your clit. he watched as your mouth fell open and you searched for something to grab. “oh fuck! a-armin!” your legs started to shake a little, not used to this kind of pleasure. he hummed against your clit, curling his fingers to try and find that one spot inside of you. while he got you off on his fingers, he bucked his hips into the mattress, trying to give himself some sort of relief. 
“please, please,” you whispered under your breath. it wasn’t long before you felt a weird pressure building in your lower stomach. “a-armin, stop. i feel weird! please stop..” you whimpered, pulling at the sheets. your hips lifted off the bed a little as you tried to get him to slow his ministrations. he pulled away from your clit and looked at you, his fingers speeding up yet again. he had stopped grinding his hips into the mattress now to help him focus on your climax. “it’s okay, honey. you’re gonna cum. just cum on my fingers. make a mess on them.” he smirked as you gasped one last time before cumming. your legs were shaking as tears flowed down your face. you weren’t used to these feelings, this pleasure.
withdrawing his fingers from you, armin immediately brought them to his lips and started to suck on them. you were so fucking addictive. he saw that your folds were glistening with cum, making his smirk grow wider. he reinserted his fingers into you and started pumping them back in and out. you tried to push his hand away, feeling overstimulated. armin ignored you and continued to finger you. while he did this, he slowly slipped his boxers off and threw them next to his pants.
“‘m gonna fuck you real good, sweet girl, don’t you worry.” he mumbled as he pulled his fingers out of you. he quickly spit in his hand and rubbed himself a few times before looking down at you. “you’re okay with this, right?” even when he was caught up in the moment, he knew how to pull himself out of that mindset and take care of you. you looked at him and nodded, a slight smile on your face. your cheeks had slight tear stains on them from crying earlier, but neither of you minded, if anything, it turned armin on more. 
he used the head of his cock to tap your clit a few times before cursing under his breath. “fuck, i forgot a condom, hold on.” he huffed. “no, it’s fine! don’t worry about it..” you flashed him a smile. armin couldn’t help the smile that crossed his features at your words. “oh sweet girl, you want it raw your first time? how sinful.” the words rolled off armin’s tongue and sent shivers down your spine. you could only shake your head as armin rutted against your soaking cunt.
“‘m gonna put it in now, schatzi. it’ll hurt at first, but you’ll be okay.” he mumbled before lining himself up with your entrance. you took a deep breath as armin started entering you. right off the bat your warm walls squeezed him, making his eyes roll back. holy fuck, you were so tight. you whimpered as he continued to push himself inside of you. he could feel your walls constricting around him, making him go insane. it felt so fucking good to be inside of you.
minutes felt like hours until he finally paused. “oh honey, i’m halfway in. you’re doing so fucking good.” at his words, you gulped. he was only halfway in?! how fucking big was he? you never got the chance to look at him before he started fucking you.. 
it almost seemed like armin could read your mind. he cupped your cheek in his hand and made you look at him. “i know i’m big, but it’s okay. you can take it. good girls like you just stay still and take it.” you just took a breath and nodded, wincing as he started pushing himself in again. it felt like you were being split in half, the pain seeming unbearable. 
time continued to pass (slowly in your opinion), before armin’s hips stilled. “that’s my girl. see, i’m inside you now. can you feel me in your tummy, love?” he cooed. his eyes looked upon you lovingly as your heart was beating erratically in your chest. he gently pushed down on your stomach, causing you to gasp. “d-don’t do that!” the pleasure that shot through you when he did it startled you. 
he chuckled and leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. your kisses were just like he imagined, warm and welcoming. as you continued to kiss, he slowly pulled out before thrusting back in all at once. you broke away, gasping loudly. “a-armin!” you cried. 
“shh, shh. you’re fine. you can take it. you’re okay.” he mumbled encouraging words to you as he gripped your waist. he started thrusting in and out, the sound of skin slapping together could be heard around the room. “oh baby, you feel so fucking good. squeezing me so much.” it wasn’t long before the pain started to turn into some sort of pleasure. 
“such a greedy fuckin’ girl, hah.. can’t get enough of me? it’s like you’re sucking me back in. i don’t mind though, i’m all yours. ‘m gonna fuck you so good that you’ll never want anyone else but me.” he babbled on and on as he continued to thrust into you roughly. you just shook your head, agreeing with the blonde that was currently drilling into you. “only you. only want you. ‘m your special, sweet girl min..” you panted.
you sunk your nails into the sheets below you as you tried to ground yourself to reality. armin was hitting spots inside of you that you didn’t even know existed. “fuck, you’re so deep in me!” you whined. you could hear armin chuckle above you as he continued to fuck you roughly. “oh baby, you’ve gotta stop squeezing me like that.. ‘m gonna cum to soon if you keep doing— oh!” without realizing it, you had came on him.
your room smelled like sweat and sex. moans, pants, skin hitting skin, and squelching noises could be heard echoing around the four walls. “oh fuck baby.. good girl. cumming all over my fucking cock.” armin praised. you whined, your mind starting to go blank. if this would happen every time you had sex with armin, you would happily oblige.
“oh shit! sweet girl, i’m gonna cum. i gotta pull out..” armin whined, his hair sticking to his forehead. you violently shook your head. “p-please cum in me! please..” at your words, armin swore he could have came. “oh honey, you want me to come in you? want me to stuff you full of my cum the first time? you’re that addicted to me that you want me to stuff my kid into you? fucking hell sweet girl, you’d look so beautiful with my baby stuffed inside of you.” armin was mindlessly mumbling now. he was getting off on the thought of you being stuffed with his kid. 
“yes! would be so perfect with your kid in me, min! would be so perfect..” you weren’t quite sure what you were saying as you felt like you were on cloud 9. your body was stuck in a state of euphoria as you felt armin’s hips still. he whined loudly as he started cumming. 
your legs were shaking and pants escaped your parted lips as armin slowly started moving again. “wait! wait.. ‘m overstimulated!” you cried out, but he paid no mind to it. he leaned down, whispering in your ear, “i gotta make sure you’re full of my cum, sweetie. one load won’t do it. gotta breed you full, make sure you’re good and full.” you felt chills run down your spine. the intimacy of what you were doing, and him being so close, seemed to have you on edge. 
a white ring had formed at the base of his cock, your cum mixing with his. the noises you two were making were downright sinful. “holy.. ahhh..” drool was starting to drip out of your mouth as armin continued to bully your pretty pussy with his cock. he used his free hand to wipe the drool from the corner of your mouth. “you’re drooling, pretty girl.” he teased.
his words weren’t registering in your brain as you continued to slip further and further into a dumbed out state. “oh come on, don’t tell me i’ve got you dumb on my cock already,” he laughed before letting out a moan. your walls squeezed his cock just right. “we’ve only went one round, darling.” 
you mindlessly babbled some response. you were fairly sure what you said wasn’t even coherent words, but armin didn’t care. in fact, he found it quite adorable. “ah shit.. i’m not gonna last long if you keep fucking squeezing me like this, hah—“
your walls continued to squeeze and contract around him as the coil in your stomach snapped once again. you came all over him, loud moans escaping your sore throat. your legs were trembling and you could have swore that you were seeing stars. “m.. ma.. min.. oh min.. please-“ your voice was quiet, yet armin could still hear it.
“don’t worry, my love. i’m right here. ‘m gonna stuff you full of my cum, okay? you’ll be nice and full. gonna look so fucking precious with my child in you..” he hissed between clenched teeth. it only took a few more thrusts before armin came inside you again. his hips still, a sigh leaving his lips as he slowly pulled out. you had tears dripping down your cheeks, drool leaking out of the corners of your mouth. 
armin watched your cum, mixed with his, drip out of your abused cunt, a satisfied smirk on his face. “oh, sweet girl, you can’t waste my cum like this.” he frowned before taking his fingers and scooping it back up and pushing it back in you. you whimpered, not being able to form words. “gonna make sure you’re bred. gotta make sure you’ll have my kid. then you’ll never leave me..”
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groaning, you slowly started to open your eyes. your lower body felt like it was being ripped to shreds, the pain feeling unbearable. as you started to gain your bearings, you noticed that you were dressed again. you had on a pair of lace underwear on, along with one of armin’s t-shirts. 
what the? how did that happen? the last thing you remember was armin practically fucking your brains out. carefully turning your head, you saw armin fast asleep beside you. truth be told, you were too tired to be worried about how you got dressed again. yawning, you set your head back on your pillow, thinking about what happened.
how could your sweet, innocent armin say the things that he did last night? you coughed a little before pulling the blanket up more to cover your body. armin shifted beside you, but was still asleep. 
as you continued to think, you could feel yourself slipping right back into sleep. the last thing you thought of before losing consciousness was the fact that even the sweetest honey can turn sour..
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liebling :: german. term of endearment. means dear or darling.
schatzi :: german. term of endearment. literally means “little treasure” but is also said to mean sweetheart or darling. 
1K notes · View notes
sqiim · 3 months
Text
check you out, punk
(mdni)
leon kennedy x reader
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warnings: pseudo-incest, stepdad!leon, fem!reader, abuse, non-con/dub-con, oral (m recieving), somnophilia, reader gets drunk, pet names, mentions of degrading, spitting
a/n: finally did a stepdad leon fic!!! i didn't intend to make leon so mean, but... we ball!!! this hasn't been proof read because... i can't be arsed. enjoy!! title is from keep it in the family by korn
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Your stepdad hates you, that much is obvious. The cheek of him fucking your mother, invading and polluting your home, only to berate you for simply breathing (a slight exaggeration, you'll admit, but it definitely feels like it).
Thing is, you don't hate him. How could you? He's built like a Calvin Klien model, all muscle and pretty, and the way he treats your mother when you're not around makes you swoon because it's cute. The little kisses on the forehead or cheek that he does and the hand placements as well. Old romance.
Seems like you get in the way though, he's rigid around you when your mother's about, and when she's not he's got that mean look about him, and he gets even more frustrated when you call him by his name.
You don't want to call him ‘dad’, don't need to either because the one you've got is just fine.
Couldn't even understand why he was so hung up about you not calling him ‘dad’ because he's been with your mother for the past six months, and he moved in three months ago.
Bonding takes time, but he doesn't even want to bond with you anyway because half the time he's shouting at you to go up to your room or hitting you for petty reasons. Sucks to be him. Sucks to be you.
One time, you decided to go get a snack at eleven o'clock at night. Bad move, he gives you a smack ‘round the head like you're a ten year old who just tested his will.
And another time when you go out to see a friend in a simple skirt and top? You get dragged up to your room and forced to get changed into something else because ‘a skirt will make men think you want it’.
That occasion really pissed you off. Patience is a fucking virtue, but you're running on dregs right now. Especially today.
Your friend bought some alcohol, told you to come over to their place and have a couple drinks- not enough to be a drunken mess, but enough to get you that buzz.
Much to your own surprise, you're able to head over with no complaints nor no sign of your stepdad. You're optimistic that when you get back he'll be passed out from drinking whiskey because your mother isn't home.
You were very wrong.
Stumbling into the house with a bottle in hand, you shut the door, well, more like a slam. Makes you realise that you're more drunk than you thought.
And you've never seen your stepdad look so pissed before.
“You do realise it is one in the morning?” The gravelly voice he does drives you up the wall from how sexy he is. It's the voice he does when he dirty talks to your mother (your walls are thin, much to your dismay).
You take a swig of the liquid from the bottle in your hand, laughing after you see him giving you a fierce look. God, you're going to regret this in the morning. “Really? I thought it was two.”
Haha, very funny. You make sure to let him know that you think you're hilarious because you're laughing to yourself as you stumble into the kitchen. You need to sober up before you get your arse kicked.
“You didn't think to sober up before you got here?” Oh, must've said that out loud, whatever. You're probably speaking a load of bullshit right now as you're stumbling around trying to find some bread.
After scrambling around and slamming cupboards for some bread which you proceed to give up with, you turn to your stepdad and shake your bottle. “I hadn't finished my drink.”
You must be more fucked than you think, because now he's very close to you with your bottle in his hand and taking a swig of it. You open your mouth to tell him off, ‘cause that was your drink, but instead he kisses you.
The only thing you can taste is alcohol and saliva, and the only thing you can hear is the sound of kissing and you moaning like a bitch.
You get all drowsy mid-kiss from the lack of air and the bountiful supply of alcohol in your system, and all you can register is your step dad slapping you ‘round the face.
The sting wakes you up a little, you know you're smiling and giggling like a drunk git because you didn't realise getting smacked around the face felt that nice.
“Such a dumb bitch of a stepdaughter.” Shit, that was hot. You'd normally start crying at that, much like how you usually do after he calls you a slut. But now you're drunk, and your brain chemistry is a little fucked. “Good thing you look like your mother.”
You're never drinking again. Seriously, your head is thumping and you look and feel like utter shit. You don't even remember coming home.
Your throat hurts, which is also new. It's a strange feeling, but you don't remember doing shit karaoke or sucking someone off. It was just you and your friend last night.
Odd, but not as odd as your step dad in the morning.
He said nothing to you as you came downstairs. He actually made you some breakfast, you felt tears brewing in your eyes despite it being toast. He's never done something so nice.
Must've been having an off day, or maybe he just feels bad for treating you like shit because he's got that guilty look on his face.
Much to his surprise and your own surprise, you actually apologise to him. Mumbling out a sorry for getting drunk and how you'll never do it again.
It earns you a hug. A fucking hug.
For the six months you've known your stepdad, he hasn't touched you so gently or so tenderly before. Makes you recoil because it's just… odd. Not like you're against it though, means you get a better feel of his muscles.
When your mother gets home, he's no longer rigid like he was before when you were around. And for the next coming weeks, he's less affectionate with her. You don't hear them having sex anymore.
While that is a good thing because you can finally get your beauty sleep, it's also concerning. What was the catalyst that night that made him so different and distant?
You vaguely remember making a shit joke, a slap on your cheek and something warm in your mouth. That's it.
It's hard to piece things together with such little evidence.
“Leon, what happened that night?”
He'd figure you'd come ask about it, figured that you'd want to know why he's being a dick to your mother.
Simple really, he loves you. That night when you came home drunk he was tempted to drag you by the hair and up to your room. But he didn't.
After he'd told you that you looked like your mother, he'd forced you down on your knees and made you get his soft dick out. Unfortunately, you didn't stay awake long enough to actually put it in your mouth.
Didn't stop him though, he kept fucking your mouth until he pulled out and came on your face. That's when it hit him that he shouldn't have done such a thing.
He knows he treats you like shit, the only reason he does it is because he hates you. Couldn't tell anyone why though, but it didn't matter all too much.
Your mother was dim about it. For months he'd been grabbing you a little too hard on the arm, or hit you a little bit harder which leaves you with bruises everywhere. She never asked any questions as to where they came from.
His excuse was that he was leaving marks on you to show that you were his, there for your real dad to see.
Though he knows he's crossed the line, knows that he's done something that could make him lose everything.
Running away from the issue is what he knows best. Unfortunately, it means everyone around him suffers as well. Well, nearly everyone.
Your mother's getting more grouchy because she's being dick-starved and affection starved, and you're no longer getting beaten up or told off.
It's not ideal, but it's better than a bottle of booze.
He wants to lie to you about what happened that night desperately, but it would be a pathetic attempt to save whatever dignity he has.
Whatever, he'll figure it out.
When you asked him that question, you didn't think he'd respond with a ‘how about I'll show you?’
Then again, you didn't really expect to be shoved down to your knees and made to pull down his trousers, but you weren't really complaining (when you know damn well you should.)
When you see his soft cock, it feels all too familiar. Sure, you've sucked dick before, but this isn't any dick, this your stepdad's dick, and somewhere in your head, a glimpse of it appears.
“I called you a dumb bitch,” Yeah, you vaguely remember that, but you didn't feel offended because he said it in that sexy voice. “Seems like it's pretty relevant here, baby.”
Right, your stepdad wants a blowjob, which is most definitely within your abilities. You start licking the tip, go so far as to wrap your lips around it and suck.
Looks like you did something right, because a groan escapes his lips and his hand is going through your hair and tugging on it.
“Fucked your throat when you passed out.” What? You're actually surprised, pulling away from his still partly soft dick completely to give him a glare. “Sorry sweetheart, don't know what came over me when I did it.”
Yeah, you bet he is, only because he got caught in the act, but that's by the by. You respond by rolling your eyes at him before spitting into your hand and stroking his dick until he's hard.
“You gonna fuck my throat now?” Damn, you sound kind of pathetic, all raspy when you haven't even had cock down your throat.
Your stepdad all but forces his dick down your throat, bobbing your head and moving his hips to thrust into your mouth, and it's the messiest head you've ever given.
Tears brimmed your eyes as you awkwardly gagged on his dick, it was almost to the point where you felt like you were going to throw up.
“Shit- look up at me.” You do as you're told, not like you have much room for complaint as he stills his thrusts, shoving his cock deep in your throat before pulling out, and you can't help but collapse and choke.
You're sure you look a state, but that fact solidifies when you look up at him with tears running down your face, snot and saliva dripping all down your chin because he groans at the sight of you while he strokes his dick.
“Open wide f'me princess.” He smacks your ‘round the cheek for good measure too, and you're extremely tempted to spit on his dick and not open your mouth, but you end up only doing the former and opening wide.
He spits in your mouth, and you can't help but grin and go back to sucking his dick, running your tongue along the underside of it as you jerked him off.
You get a little cocky though, ‘cause it looks like your stepdad is enjoying himself, so you dive into getting his balls in your mouth. They're a nice weight in your mouth, and they must be stacked up from not having sex for nearly a month.
You're not complaining though, sucking away at his balls as well as occasionally going back to his dick, all the while your thumb circles the tip because he's groaning and calling you a whore for how good you are at it.
By now, you're soaked. Your underwear has definitely seen better days, but you couldn't even careless, nor are you even worried about getting yourself off. You're focused on him.
“Wanna cum on your face.” That's when you look up at him, realising that he's probably close, but you're tempted to edge him. Serves him right for treating you like shit for the past six, nearly seven months.
But you don't, instead you move away and take his cock down your throat gradually until it's fully seated on your tongue and you swallow hard.
Start choking after that, makes you pull away and gasp, choking and spluttering until the sound of your stepdad finally reaches your ears, making you glance up at him.
Cum lathers your face, imprinting you with your step dad's filth and it almost makes you wince. At least none of it got in your eye.
“That's what happened that night,” He paused, grabbing your chin and smiling down at you. “Want me to show you what else I wanted to do?”
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qqueenofhades · 4 months
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I’m in undergrad but I keep hearing and seeing people talking about using chatgpt for their schoolwork and it makes me want to rip my hair out lol. Like even the “radical” anti-chatgpt ones are like “Oh yea it’s only good for outlines I’d never use it for my actual essay.” You’re using it for OUTLINES????? That’s the easy part!! I can’t wait to get to grad school and hopefully be surrounded by people who actually want to be there 😭😭😭
Not to sound COMPLETELY like a grumpy old codger (although lbr, I am), but I think this whole AI craze is the obvious result of an education system that prizes "teaching for the test" as the most important thing, wherein there are Obvious Correct Answers that if you select them, pass the standardized test and etc etc mean you are now Educated. So if there's a machine that can theoretically pick the correct answers for you by recombining existing data without the hard part of going through and individually assessing and compiling it yourself, Win!
... but of course, that's not the way it works at all, because AI is shown to create misleading, nonsensical, or flat-out dangerously incorrect information in every field it's applied to, and the errors are spotted as soon as an actual human subject expert takes the time to read it closely. Not to go completely KIDS THESE DAYS ARE JUST LAZY AND DONT WANT TO WORK, since finding a clever way to cheat on your schoolwork is one of those human instincts likewise old as time and has evolved according to tools, technology, and educational philosophy just like everything else, but I think there's an especial fear of Being Wrong that drives the recourse to AI (and this is likewise a result of an educational system that only prioritizes passing standardized tests as the sole measure of competence). It's hard to sort through competing sources and form a judgment and write it up in a comprehensive way, and if you do it wrong, you might get a Bad Grade! (The irony being, of course, that AI will *not* get you a good grade and will be marked even lower if your teachers catch it, which they will, whether by recognizing that it's nonsense or running it through a software platform like Turnitin, which is adding AI detection tools to its usual plagiarism checkers.)
We obviously see this mindset on social media, where Being Wrong can get you dogpiled and/or excluded from your peer groups, so it's even more important in the minds of anxious undergrads that they aren't Wrong. But yeah, AI produces nonsense, it is an open waste of your tuition dollars that are supposed to help you develop these independent college-level analytical and critical thinking skills that are very different from just checking exam boxes, and relying on it is not going to help anyone build those skills in the long term (and is frankly a big reason that we're in this mess with an entire generation being raised with zero critical thinking skills at the exact moment it's more crucial than ever that they have them). I am mildly hopeful that the AI craze will go bust just like crypto as soon as the main platforms either run out of startup funding or get sued into oblivion for plagiarism, but frankly, not soon enough, there will be some replacement for it, and that doesn't mean we will stop having to deal with fake news and fake information generated by a machine and/or people who can't be arsed to actually learn the skills and abilities they are paying good money to acquire. Which doesn't make sense to me, but hey.
So: Yes. This. I feel you and you have my deepest sympathies. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to sit on the porch in my quilt-draped rocking chair and shout at kids to get off my lawn.
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beatlessideblog · 4 days
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John passes his driving test! As featured in Fabulous magazine, 27 March 1965.
Also featuring Paul not getting a really obvious joke (I got it, Editor Unity!) and John nicking George Martin's car.
Transcript under cut...
One thing the Beatles are certainly switched on about is cars! And to make it complete, just recently John Lennon proudly announced to the world that he had passed his driving test. So now all four of them may be spotted at different times driving on the roads.
"I'll still keep my chauffeur," John said. "For the Rolls, of course." For his own use, though, he has a Mini.
Ringo, who places fast cars high in his list of interests, is the proud owner of a maroon Facel Vega... Word has it that he's an excellent driver and can reach high speeds in a very short time with this new car.
George seemed to have some problems when he owned a silver E-type Jag. It was involved in a couple of minor "incidents". A lorry driver who ran into him apologised, but said the car was so low he never saw it! Hope you have better luck with that new white Aston Martin, George!
Paul also has an Aston Martin, but his is blue. Talking with FAB's Maureen, he boasted that his car can do 140 miles an hour. "Wanna ride?" he asked her. To which Mo replied, "Don't ask silly questions!"
Ed. Unity told Paul about a ride she had with Adam Faith not too long ago. Going down the M1 in his Ford Galaxy at 110 miles an hour, something went wrong with the brakes. "The M once!" Unity said.
"I don't understand what that means but it sounds very poetic," replied Paul. "You should keep that."
"A hundred and ten miles an hour. Gosh! That's too fast to cog down," said Mo. Paul loved that expression - he kept teasing Mo about "cogging down".
After passing his test, John seemed quite anxious to show off his newly acquired skill. Borrowing recording manager George Martin's car, he interrupted their recording session long enough to prove his ability.
"I don't think that just because I have passed my test - in my mini - I am a good driver," he admitted. "I am still learning."
Chances are he'll be out practicing as often as possible. So don't be too surprised if you spot him whizzing by someday. Be careful, though - the sight of a Beatle could be enough to distact even the most careful road user!
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ghouljams · 7 months
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GHOUL I LOVE YOU omg you've been feeding me so well I don't deserve you. I've been obsessed with your demon au (frothing at the mouth, salivating, gripping into my bedsheets as I read all of it) and I had an idea. I was reading a fic, which I'll link down below don't worry, about ghost dying in combat and coming back to you in actual ghost form. How do you feel about the idea of ghost going to hell but they turn him into your demon? He promises he'll never leave you, goes on a mission and just...never returns. But Ghost is not only your lover, but he's a legend in hell and why would hell waste a good soldier? They send him back up to you........
You become the new war machine, your boots digging into still hot flesh as you march over the bodies that Ghost has torn down. You see him across the way, watching as he slaughters anything and everything that stands in his path. Ghost isn't fighting for the task force anymore, he's fighting for you. And heaven will burn before anything happens to what's his.
Sorry if this is kind of a rant but I have this horrible craving for angst and violence.
https://www.tumblr.com/ceilidho/727096787831341056/prompt-you-keep-seeing-apparitions-of-a-dead?source=share
OK ON GOD I AM IN LOVE WITH THAT FIC holy shit
Alright another real quick demon au for the Ghosty boy, not exactly what you said but... I think you'll like it
There are things that are meant to be seen, and then there are demons. Human eyes were never meant to look upon such wonders, such living machines, all perfectly curated musculature and instinct. You're lucky if you never catch a glimpse of one. Such beauty could drive a person mad. To see what humanity would never touch but always strive for would be a curse. One that would haunt and eat away at you until there was no choice but to give in to it, and hopefully become one of them.
You press your hands to your mouth, leaned forward with your elbows on your knees, unsteady from the way you bounce your leg. Nothing more they could do. That's what doctors always said on TV, you didn't think you'd actually hear it in real life.
"We just have to wait and see," They tell you, and you nod. You all nod, because you understand what those words mean. The 141 is always prepared for tragedy, never more so than in the long hours you spend waiting for Ghost to wake up. He's crammed so full of tubes and wires, the nurses rotating different syringes of medicine through his IVs, you hardly recognize him.
You take shifts. One of you in the room with him at all times, cramped in the uncomfortable hospital chair. All of you figuring he'll want a friendly face when he wakes up, and drawing up a schedule. Damn military training. Still, it's good. It means when you relieve Soap of his watch you know he's going to grab some sleep, the same way you know Gaz will be by when your shift ends in the wee hours of the morning.
You must doze off even with a nap under your belt, because when you wake up it's freezing in Ghost's hospital room. You check your watch, 03:00. The witching hour. Nothing good ever happens at three AM. You sigh and get up to ask the nursing station for a blanket, if you're cold you're sure Ghost is too. If he can even feel cold like this.
Something deeply wrong and horribly familiar grabs your hand.
You tense and turn. Ghost stares at you, his fingers tight around yours, your stomach drops and you rush to slam your hand on the call button. He's awake. He's awake and it's chaos. You spend the next few hours talking to doctors, watching nurses pull tubes out of Ghost's throat and perform tests on every patch of skin that isn't bandaged. You stand outside his room and talk to Price over the phone, make sure the rest of the team knows Ghost's back from the dead and passing everything with flying colors.
You don't mention what you don't want to say out loud, what you can't even put a name to. Something in his eyes, they're darker than they used to be. Not the color but the depth of them. Something in his voice is richer, something about the way he moves feels... more. The room is freezing and no one can get the temperature up.
You think someone will notice. When the rest of the 141 shows up to visiting hours you think one of them will see what you do. You hope. They don't. If they do, none of them mention it. The only difference is in the way Ghost keeps reaching for you, keeps taking your hand, pulling you to sit on the edge of his bed whenever you're close. Your relationship wasn't a secret, but he's never been one for PDA. Now you can hardly come within arms length without him touching you. Soap teases you for it, and Price is happy enough just having Ghost back not to mention it.
Gaz asks if you're alright when you excuse yourself from the room. The two of you speaking quietly by the vending machine. You pour out your fears to him and ask if he's noticed anything, anything, different about Ghost.
"Just that he seems glad to be back," Gaz tells you, a reassuring hand on your shoulder. It's the way he says "back" that gives you pause. Back. Back from where? Were you the only one that had been holding out hope he wasn't dead? Had the rest of your team been sitting in the hospital room with what they thought was a corpse? You don't push it further, too afraid what Gaz will say next. They're glad he's alive and that's all you have to hold onto.
It's almost like nothing happened when he's discharged --sooner than anyone expected, sooner than a normal man should've been after what happened-- and you almost start to believe nothing did happen. You can ignore the scar on your shoulder, the only evidence that Ghost ever spared you his fate. You can ignore the way he slides his hand against the curve of your back when he never used to. You can ignore the fact that, that's all he'll do, just touch you. Like he's reassuring himself you're there. He hasn't come to your room, he hasn't pulled you into his lap, he hasn't kissed you or called you anything but your name, and you're the only one who seems to notice.
You're the only one that raises an objection when Ghost is cleared for duty. The only one with no real reason to object. The way he stares you down afterwards... he knows that you know something you shouldn't.
It's not until you're actually in the field with him that you realize what it is, where he must have come back from. It's the way he pushes his mask up, hunched and panting over a pile of corpses. The way he wipes his bloodied hand against his lips. The dark black smoke that he forces from his lungs with each exhale. The inky veins of his hands, his arms. The sulfur smell that sticks in your nose. Fire and brimstone. He looks at you like a wild animal, any thoughts behind his eyes unfathomable and inhuman.
He's perfect, you think. A perfect machine, made just for this. Your Simon, wrong in all the right ways.
"You're not supposed to see this," He rolls his shoulders back, tips his head towards you as he licks the blood off his lips. You raise your gun, keep it trained on him. He takes a step towards you, and you shoulder your rifle, stand a little more purposefully.
"Don't move," You warn him.
"Put the gun down," Ghost warns you in turn. He takes another step towards you, you slip your foot back, preparing to run. His eyes dart over your shoulder. "Price tell them."
You turn to look and feel your heart drop as Ghost grabs your gun. No one's there. Why would they be?
Ghost rips your gun from your hands and spins you, twisting your arm behind your back. You struggle, stomp on his insole, he twists your other arm behind your back to hold you like a wild dog. Barking and biting at nothing. When you finally do sag against his hold, it feels the same as always. You expected the dread of a death sentence to seize you, but it's like sparring.
"I missed you," He murmurs, pulling you against his chest. Ghost's head drops, his covered nose against your neck, breathing you in. The ridges of his mask are uncomfortably inflexible.
"You left me," You bite back, all the misplaced anger pushing itself to the surface. How could he take that hit for you? Didn't he know how much it would hurt you? What happened to always coming home? What happened to never leaving you alone? He died. He fucking died, and he came back wrong and no one will believe you.
"I know," He presses his lips to your shoulder, to your still aching scar, "I'm sorry."
"You left," You can't think of anything else to say, can't think of any other words to break on your tongue. You emotions are running wild. Tears prick at your eyes, anger, frustration, grief you never let yourself touch. It all hurts more than you can put into words.
"Never again," Ghost tells you, he's so warm and solid behind you, he still holds you like you might make a run for it, "I'm all yours now, yeah? Never leaving you again," He kisses your jaw, you can smell the blood on him, "I'll claw my way out of as many graves as I have to, deal?"
You nod, feel something heavy settle in your chest, feel Ghost shiver behind you. That's what you're afraid of, you think, that he'll keep coming back. Different each time.
"Not different," Ghost hums in your ear, "Better."
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Just pitching in since I see so much discourse about will they or won’t they that I think we kind of lost the essence of the story: I mean yes, Netflix is promoting the whole are they going to be endgame or not, tune in to find out but I think that’s just a generic marketing tactic.I’ve honestly been ignoring it.
Also, Lisa doesn’t strike me as the type of writer that would push only her own personal agenda or politics to a tv show, especially one that has critical acclaim as yr. That’s not what true storytelling is about. Please bear with me (apologies in advance for the long response !) but here’s my v long winded reasoning:
The theme has always been love v. duty & the monarchy is the enemy. Wille is on a Hero’s Journey - he is ultimately the Main Character; the Young Royal. What’s great about The Hero’s Journey is that it’s easy to follow and makes for great storytelling despite its predictability. I think some people here may have touched upon this so I am simply expanding:
As a viewer, we follow Wille and get to know him. He’s a likable character and we easily root for him and feel for him when we learn about the power dynamics in play; specifically how he feels caged as a prince. Then we enter into a Call for Adventure: him falling for Simon and the high stakes he enters when his brother passes and he is now Crown Prince.
This, then, propels the story forward, given the stakes are stacked up and it’s not looking good for Wille, especially after he/we find out August was the offender for sex tape leak.
After that, we enter into The Refuse to Call for Adventure; i.e, the hero (Wille) realizes he must face the challenge. We also step into the Meeting the Mentor, which is Boris, who helps Wille learn how to stand up and ultimately fight for himself (and Simon). While I see others thinking that W might push everyone away, including skipping his appts with Boris, I do not think that’s the case. Boris was set up to be the Mentor that W needs to realize the challenge he’s been facing and we may continue seeing him open up to Boris.
This will then allow W to “Cross the Threshold” and reinforce the central theme and conflict of the story - if W continues to stay with the monarchy and his obligations as Crown Prince, he cannot choose Simon. Love or Duty? Which will prevail?
S3 crosses that threshold and produces tests and obstacles that would make the fight for his relationship w S so much more complicated (basically everything we saw in the trailer). This stage in the Hero’s Journey is meant for the audience to doubt the Hero - Wille. It’s already a testament as we are debating if W is going to denounce his title or not just from the 2 mins of what we saw from the trailer. It’s intentional. We need to doubt in order for the central theme to drive home and also portrays the monarchy to be the overarching enemy of this story, without Lisa forfeiting her own political statement.
We enter the next stage of the Journey - which is the Cave - meaning the Hero and protagonists need to regroup and prepare for a counter attack (generally speaking) because the tension is continuing to rise and there are outside forces that wish to disturb the Journey (in this case, public opinion? paparazzi? Hillerska shutting down?).
Next, we enter the Ordeal - which makes the Hero break down bc he enters a mental barrier and is pushed to a corner. However, the Hero, typically comes out stronger after this stage in storytelling.
Ultimately, we reach the end: The Reward. The Hero makes the “attack” or choice and defeats the enemy/antagonist.
Imo, with how everything is set up, I do think it’s set up for W and S to be together in the end at least the end of the show (everything else after is obviously left for the audience member to interpret).
I have no doubt that W & S are going to come up on top and still be together in the end bc like some people mentioned - what would be the point? It was never a question whether they would end up together. The question is if Wille, our Hero in this story, would make the final choice and choose between love or duty. I think Wille would choose love. What better way of making history, especially with everything that’s been happening in real events, then choosing love? That would make for a strong ending.
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lovelytsunoda · 7 months
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crying over it all // clement novalak
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summary: there are few things in this world more mortifying than failing your drivers test when everyone else your age has a license. it’s made even worse when your boyfriend is a racing driver
pairing: clement novalak x female reader
warnings: reader fails her driving test, which leads to significant self loathing, clem is just trying to be supportive and god I need someone like him right now
authors note: guess who failed her drivers test 🙃 I’ve rebooked it but now I have to commute by way of three buses to my college campus :( and don't even get me started on field placement...i wish i had never left it this long but at this point i need to trust to process and find some sort of way to move past it.
“I’m sorry, but you will need to retake your road driving test. I understand that’s not what you wanted to hear, but you need some more practice. you can see the full list of mistakes inside.”
it had been twenty minutes since she’s heard those words, and she still felt shaky on her feet. her hands had shook and tears fell down her face as she went inside, taking a number and waiting in a notoriously long dmv line to admit to the woman at the desk that she needed to rebook her test.
she didn’t want clement to see her like this, utterly defeated and trying not to scream her lungs out as she watched four teenagers in line in front of her get their licenses.
she was twenty one, for god sakes. she should have been driving by now.
she was sitting on the wooden bench, slouched I gracefully and letting the tears fall as she played with her car keys when clement found her.
what was the point of even owning a fucking car if she couldn’t drive it?
“oh, love." clem frowned, feeling his own stomach sink when he saw how distraught she was. "i take it that things didn't go well."
"could you tell?" she sobbed, trying to wipe her eyes. "was it that obvious? i hate myself, clement. how is it that i can't do something that pretty much everybody my age has been able to do since they were sixteen."
his heart ached as he heard her words. he'd passed his test on the first try, and he drove things for a living, so he's never really thought about what it must have been like for her, having to bum rides off her friends and family or to be bound to the transit schedule. while she was in college, it hadn't been the biggest deal, although it was a minor inconvenience. now that she would be working full time, the stakes were higher.
"i'm sorry, pretty girl." he frowned, pulling her closer, allowing her rest her head on his shoulder. "but you can take it again, and you know what you did wrong, right?"
"i start work next week, clem. i've looked up the commute and if i take public transit, it's almost two hours each way. and i feel like i'm a burden by constantly asking people for rides, or telling them that if they can't pick me up, we can't hang out. hell, my mother had to drive to my first date with you!"
clem chuckled at the memory, the image of a frazzled y/n stepping out of her mother's suv and frantically scanning the parking lot for clement. moments later, her mother had insisted to getting out of the car and introducing herself to clem. y/n thought that she would combust then and there.
"your mother loves me!"
"yeah, but imagine being a grown-ass adult and still having to get your mother to drive you to appointments because you don;t want to chance the bus route not aligning with your appointment time? i feel like my grandmother, and she's ninety, clement. she had her license revoked because she has cataracts."
"i know it hurts right now, but you are never a burden, y/n. your friends love having you in the car when they drive. hell, i feel like i drive better when you're next to me. i don't mind driving you places, you know. it means that i get to spend more time with you."
she smiled at the gesture, turning to allow clem to cup her chin and wipe some of her tears away. her face was flushed, eyes red and puffy. she couldn't shake the idea that she might have made a scene inside the testing center.
"i know. i just wish i could be more independent. transiting gives me so much fucking anxiety. i went over the curb when i three=point-turned and an old lady on a mobility scooter started yelling at me."
"but you never go over the curb."
"exactly! i think i was nervous, when i practiced the route with my dad, there were never any cars on the road. and i think after that happened, i got into my head and it screwed everything else up. i'm such a fuck up. i feel like i've let everybody down, especially you, since you helped pay for my fucking car."
'"hey, hey, don;t talk like that. you'll get it. i promise you. you know jenson button didn't pass his road test on his first try, right?"
she snorted, sitting up straighter, but still clutching clem's hand. "did he really?"
"yeah, and i think lando failed as well."
"yeah well, i've seen how lando drives. that doesn't surprise me at all."
having a laugh seemed to help, and at least now if people mwere staring at her it was because of the f2 driver sitting next to her, not because she was a grown woman who still couldn't drive and decided to cry about it, and then fling her keys onto the grass.
"i have some plans i might have to move around, and then i need to call my parents, and then my dad can take me out to practice a bit more but i have to trust that when i take it again in october, something goes right. because i know exactly what i fucked up."
she moved to get up from the bench, clm following closely behind as she shamefacedly handed him the keys to her volkswagen. well, the volkswagen now, since she couldn't drive it without someone who'd had their license for five years present.
"i'm proud of you for trying. i know that this was something you put off for a long time because of your anxiety, and even though it didn't work out, at least you tried." clem encouraged, his arms comfortably slung around her shoulders as she laced her fingers with his. "hey, it could be worse. you could have had your dad drive you here."
"clement, don't even joke!" she laughed. "you know that i hate taking transit, and that i don't always feel safe going places alone."
"i know. and if you ever feel unsafe, or too anxious to function, or just like you want to see my gorgeous face, call me. as long as im in the country, i will come and get you. and if im not, i'll send someone i trust."
"like who? max fewtrell? his driving is worse than landos."
clem snorted. "i meant ria. or pietra.
"thank you, clement." she sighed, leaning into him as he unlocked the car. "i love you."
"i love you more, pretty girl." he kissed the top of her head softly. "it will all work itself out, love. just you wait. and then you'll be the one driving me places."
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