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kiwi-bitchez · 2 months

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The Girlfriend Experience

Eddie Munson x Reader

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

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

Word Count: 20k ahhhhhh!!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still no reply.

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

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

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

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

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

“It’ll be easy. Ask me out.”

“Huh?”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

“No,” you cut him off.

“WHA-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Uh-huh…” he stares at you blankly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“From bugs?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Am I what?”

“Are you asking me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“’S that sufficient for a first kiss?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I was just waiting for-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh my god, fuck off!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jackpot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, maybe this was a bad idea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Apparently not,

Days pass, and no call.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, crystal clear Eddie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And there he is.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#eddie munson smut #smut #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #Eddie Munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things smut #eddie munson fem!reader

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marvel-ous-m · 27 days

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Just gotta be ooey gooey here for a second. I just surpassed 100k words on SIMM(aIFOY) (not 100k posted, just written as drafts at the moment).

Getting to hit that milestone with pals from the STWG cheering me on made it extra special and emotional. <3

I never, EVER, thought I'd be able to write something this long- and it's been outstanding to see the ways that my writing has improved just over the course of writing this project.

Thanks to everyone for all the support and love for this fic, and EXTRA big thanks to my beta Abs for all the advice, help, and screaming about the blorbos and their situations.

It's one thing to get to write this much about something you love, it's a completely other thing to see so much love given to it, and that's meant the world to me- seriously.

This has been one of the toughest years of my life, hands down. This community has made things bright in areas that have been pretty damn dark, and I can't thank y'all enough for that.

Ooookay. I think that's enough sleepy-em-ranting-emotionally for now. Back to your regularly scheduled booping <3

#em speaks #em writes #em writes and rambles #Silliest goofiest thing?#The words that got me over the 100k mark were Eddie thinking with his dick LMAOOOO

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asterkiss · 11 months

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I initially wrote this for one of the prompts in my inbox before realising there was an additional request which makes this one wrong lol. So have an extra thing written by accident with Wendy and Bill hanging out together (sort of) where Wendy is the voice of reason (mostly).

-HOBBIES

'Why are you hiding behind the counter?’

‘I’m not hiding.’

Wendy stared at the former-demon-turned-kinda-good seated behind the shop till with a wild look in his eye. Then again, he usually had a wild look of some sort. She’d had enough dealings with him by now to know this kind of expression was a different one than usual but that was it.

‘...Uh huh,’ she replied flatly. ‘Well scoot, you’re in my spot. Unless you plan on taking this shift?’ Hm, might be funny to watch him trying to work in the Shack shop. Sure, it would lose them business and get Stan riled up but it’d be hilarious.

He made a face but eventually obliged. In the beginning he’d tried messing with her like he did with everyone, but when she refused to bite any bait he offered the guy eventually got bored and left her alone most of the time. If only Dipper could learn to do the same.

Peering around the cashier desk, he looked across the room with wariness before eventually standing and shifting aside. Wendy moved forward and sat down on the chair, pulling out her magazine and some bubble gum to pass the time.

Bill remained standing there, eyes focused on the door leading into the living room of the Shack.

Turning a page, she spoke. ‘She went out.’

‘Huh?’

‘Mabel,’ she clarified, without missing a beat. ‘She headed into town ten minutes ago to meet her pals.’

There was silence for a moment, before he responded. ‘So what? I don’t care.’

A shrug. ‘I didn’t say you did, dude.’

He grunted, but didn’t leave. Jeez. She didn’t want to engage with him but the redhead felt he wasn’t gonna leave until she did. It was hard to relax when there was a sulking nuisance next to you tapping his foot. He reminded her of her brothers when they were throwing a tantrum.

‘Mabel’s mad at you, huh?’ she asked dryly, finally letting her gaze shift towards him.

His head snapped around at that, body tensing. After a moment his face twisted. ‘She’s annoying, is what she is,’ he spat. ‘Don’t be fooled by the stickers and smiles, beneath it lays a brat!’ He threw his arms in the air in exaggeration, looking annoyed.

‘So, you did something, huh?’

‘Of course not!’

Wendy continued to stare at him as she began to blow a bubble. They kept eye contact as the pink, gooey orb grew larger and larger between them.

Eventually, it popped.

And so did he.

‘Okay, fine!’ he spat. ‘I might have called her friends some unpleasant names and called her selfish and stupid, but that’s it! She’s the one who kicked me in the leg and dumped pasta on my head!’ Huh, so that’s what she could see remnants of in his hair. Funny.

The older girl snorted. ‘Dude, I know Mabel isn’t your normal everyday girl but even with her you gotta have more tact than that. Quit being a raging jealous asshole already and give her some space.’

He glared at her. It had no effect.

She leaned closer, jabbing a finger in his direction. ‘You need to stop clinging to her so much. Mabel doesn’t have to hang out with only you, y’know? She has other friends and things going on in her life.’

His face soured, lips pressing tightly into a grimace.

‘I get it, you think she’s gonna stop chilling with you to go hang out with other people instead — I know I would. But, Mabel’s built different and seems to like you for some weird reason so just trust her, alright? If you keep suffocating her she’s gonna get mad for real and then she will end up leaving your ass.’

She raised an eyebrow pointedly as she finished her lecture. Wow, it really did feel like she was scolding one of her kid brothers here. Bill even had the same sulky face as he averted his gaze, looking as if he’d tasted something unpleasant.

Satisfied she’d done her part, the redhead returned to her magazine, trying to read the latest tips of hot flannel fashion. She can’t have read more than a paragraph of the article however when he spoke up.

‘So, what am I supposed to do instead?’

She raised her head, to find him staring at her expectantly. ‘What?’

‘If I’m meant to leave Shooting Star alone, what else is there to do in this stupid hick town?’ A pause and he looked away in consideration. ‘I suppose I could prank Pine Tree, although everyone mad when I took it too far last time. How was I supposed to know bleach was lethal for humans in those doses?’ The smirk he was failing to hide said he did know. Asshole.

‘Do you seriously not know what to do when Mabel’s away? What do you normally do when she’s out of the house?’

A shrug. ‘Wait for her to come back.’

‘That’s sad and cringey. Go find a hobby.’

‘My hobbies are rather vindictive in nature and involve screaming.’

Wendy stared at him for several seconds. 'Seriously, how does she deal with you? I don’t get it.’

Then again, Wendy had seen them interact and it was obvious he acted slightly different around her. More mellowed out. Still annoying though.

In that moment, her phone buzzed off. Yanking it out of her jeans, Wendy found the group chat going off.

NATE: principal ratted me out to parents over my prank and in the shits with them now :/ NATE: cant hang this weekend LEE: bro wtf TAMBRY: classic LEE: god i hate that dude LEE: we should just steal his car at night and wreck it!! TAMBRY: right. that’s totally gonna end well for you...

Wendy rolled her eyes at their antics. As if. Who’d be gutsy enough to actually steal the principal’s car?

....

Wait a second.

Wendy turned in her seat, cast Bill a glance as she regarded him in a new light. ‘Hey, if you want to give Mabel some space, how bout you come hang out with my group tonight?’

He immediately made a face. ‘I would rather be covered in shit and eaten alive by cockroaches.'

‘You get to steal a car and drive it into a lake.’

The demon paused at that. He regarded her with scrutiny for a moment, trying to figure out if she was messing with him. Then, eventually:

‘For real?’

‘Super real.’

His face stretched into a slow grin. ‘Count me in, Red.’

And that's how Wendy and Bill ended up hanging out for the first time.

Also, how they ended up being arrested.

#drabble

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dark-mega · 2 years

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Ideas for Anime x Game kirby crossovers

1-Escargoon tries to fix the monster teleported after Meta knight “accidentally” broke it with a chainsaw, dedede ends up summoning Sectonia & Haltman and it results They accidentally made a portal to the underworld and accidentally summon dark nebula which just roams around stealing cake and being happy for actually being a threat in that universe,sectonia and Haltman try to return to their universe while dark nebula posses anime meta knight to summon the phantoms of forgotten land to help him take over this world but morpho knight appears and recaptures most of the phantoms except phantom forgo dedede, then Kirby has to free meta knight from dark nebula control and then Sectonia,haltman,phantom forgo Dedede and Dark nebula escape back to the game universe and Morpho is like “ugh screw them, I have another 200.000.000 souls, I don’t need them” sectonia and Haltman separate and go for their loved ones forgiveness (and beat taranza a little bit) while Dark nebula and phantom forgo dedede go to space to conquer all the universe (except pop star because of Kirby) and they end up becoming pals with necrodeus which never died, and the whole anime cast is like “WHAT THE FU-“

2-kracko and wispy get absorbed by a portal to another dimension then another portal to another another dimension and then another another portal to the anime universe and they have to work together to go back home,kracko acts like he’s a surviving demon beast and works for dedede while meta knight is spying on him, while Game wispy becomes the alpha of the anime wispy’s since he can become a giant and shoot cloud projectiles and they give a ancient energy sphere which caused the rift who brought them there,wispy gets inside the castle and kracko takes escargoon hostage to modify the teleporter with the energy sphere to make a portal back to the game universe,accidentally they summon grand doomer which starts causing chaos,Kracko is ready to leave but wispy convinced him to stop the grand doomer because of the anime wispys,with meta knight and Kirby’s help they defeat grand doomer and then go back to their dreamland,dedede throws the energy sphere into the ocean and everyone is like “what the hell just happen?”

3-dark taranza respawns in the mirror world and goes to the wrong universe when trying to get revenge on the Kirby’s so he ends up facing Kirby while shadow dedede comes to help because he hates dark taranza guts, and tuff is like “oh my god he’s so goddamn cool!!!” And after anime dedede gets jealous,posses and beaten up in one hour,they defeat dark taranza because Dark mind with anime dedede body (anime king D-mind) betrays dark taranza once more and then Kirby,shadow dedede and Meta knight defeat d-mind and save the day and shadow goes back to the mirror world after throwing anime dedede off a cliff because he can

4-anime dedede and game dedede switch places for a day

Anime dedede:would try to send hes troops after Kirby and then Kirby beats him up thinking he’s posses,so he goes to see if Elfilin has anything to do with this but gets nothing,then Kirby and Elfilin got to see taranza but get nothing,then visit the world dimension to see if Shadow dedede replaced their dedede but meet shadow dedede and get nothing,then Kirby,elfilin,taranza and shadow dedede call ribbon to use the crystal but it doesn’t work,so Kirby,elfilin,taranza,shadow dedede and ribbon ask gooey for help because he’s a dark matter but they get nothing,so Kirby,elfilin,taranza,shadow dedede,ribbon and gooey ask necrodeus for help but after he politely asks them to get the hell out of he’s house they realize he has nothing to do with this, so Kirby,elfilin,taranza,shadow dedede,ribbon,gooey and necrodeus go to the underworld to see if dark nebula knows anything about it but he doesn’t so they get attacked by morpho knight for getting on he’s property and after the fight they all go to eat a ice until anime dedede changes places with game dedede and go back to their normal day life

Game dedede:just enjoyed the day,spend some time with Kirby,everyone was confused especially escargoon,tiff was suspicious but tuff didn’t question it and eventually game Dedede returned after giving anime Kirby he’s biggest dream, becoming friends with the king

and anime dedede was permanently traumatized “the end”

I hope you liked this fanfic ideas,give me your opinions and own ideas,I will appreciate the feedback

Now have a nice day or night CIAO

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joe-england · 7 months

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'Tis the season, so.... You want to know when I get really frightened? I’m frightened about a lot. The future. My family. My mom’s condition. Being able to provide. Our house, and how money just seems to get tighter. Big stuff, like climate change, and... wars. What kind of world my nieces will grow up in. My own health! All the ways I screwed myself up working at a desk all these years, straining my back, my eyes, my hands, etc. And my precious projects! I'm working on all this stuff, but I don't even know if I'm going to have time to get Witch Warp off the ground as soon as I want because other things keep happening! But there’s a special kind of fear that grips me when I’m working. When I’m very close to finishing a project., on the cusp of wrapping it up, so I can finally show everyone. I feel the dread weight of time more and more, the demons whispering, “They’re waiting, they’re waiting, it’s too late, they’ve already left. You've disappointed them.” Even as I write this, at this very second, I'm screaming at myself to finish typing NOW. HURRY. I mean, it's true! I do work too slow, and I'm losing Patrons again! One of those "other things" that keeps happening on the way to Witch Warp. I keep dipping underneath the 1,000 dollar a month threshold. Agh. But even back when I didn't depend on this campaign to get by, when I was a whippersnapper doing Zebra Girl in college, there was that same fear pressing down as I stayed up into the wee hours of morning, feeling lonely and guilty, and then when the day wore on and I kept wearily drawing, thinking of everyone refreshing the website and wondering where I was. Fear is a big part of life. It's tempting to think about flying away from it all, even under eerie circumstances. Maybe that's why I gave this tiny fable to Pooka Zin. He was my first Pook, closest to my gooey heart. Some demons are pals. Anyway, I'm still so grateful. Here I have the opportunity to give you my work, and there are still people like you helping me, and hope that I'll make more friends like you when I begin my next projects. If only everyone had as many blessings as I do. Happy October, everyone. Let's keep our fear in perspective, and remember that many of us now have much worse things to be afraid of. If you're under threat out there, then I send you my very best wishes in the whole world. I hope that they reach you along with the little stories of my demons flying us away. Doctors Without Borders Save the Children Alliance for Middle East Peace - Joe

#zebra girl #my art #pook #monster #rabbit #halloween #poetry

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symphonic-scream · 1 year

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I gotta know: how does hifumi get along with the rest of the team? I love character dynamics and I don't see much w/ hifumi

I'm so glad you asked! Before I get into individual dynamics, this is what the group is like as a whole

You know those memes about the person trying to control the kids on leashes? Yeah.

So Hifumi is holding the leashes. Robin Goro is sitting on her shoulder, Yusuke is sitting on the ground being dragged, Makoto and Haru got the leashes tangled and and tugging on them, Futaba has fallen on her back and is turtling cause she got yanked while trying to run away, Ryuji is scrambling away, Ann is all cocooned in the harness cause she tried to wiggle it off and is now stuck and being dragged, and Kasumi is carrying her own leash and walking with the group- maybe even skipping

And now for one on one

Hifumi with Yusuke is just- autistic hanging out. Both are doing their own thing silently in the same space. He's sketching, she's studying Shogi techniques- not a word is being spoken. They are best friends

Hifumi and Goro is. It's. When two tired teachers go out for beers energy. They're tired, they love the others but at what cost. They understand each other's suffering

Hifumi and Makoto! They're usually chill. Hifumi apologized for following everyone else in their talk and beliefs about Makoto before but it's water under the bridge. They study together when Haru and Yusuke or Akira/Ren aren't free, and Hifumi has learned that in order to get the best plans from Makoto, she just has to ask Haru and Yusuke to go pick out something. That can sometimes last hours.

As for Hifumi and Haru, well, Haru is a champ at making sure everyone's eating and staying hydrated. She often has little bags of Hifumi's favourite trail mix after learning she doesn't like gooey snacks, and Hifumi likes to go to a bath house or relax at Haru's after press interviews

Hifumi and Futaba is like. It's like. Okay like. Futaba really makes her life hard but that's how she shows affection okay? Not listening, talking over her, making naughty jokes- once Hifumi actually talks to her and finds out that none of it's serious, Futaba turns it down a notch as requested and they mix a little easier

Hifumi and Ryuji. She finds him loud, a little overexcited, but he's like a puppy sometimes. Like a dumb little house-ridden puppy. She just wishes he and Futaba were a little less alike

She and Ann get along great! They both understand stuff about being stuck in the spotlight, pushy parents, all that. They have sleepovers, go get crepes, they're good pals

But Hifumi's best friend is Akira/Ren. She visits him at work at Crossroads, they talk about Queer culture, they really just get each other

#chaos arcana swap #hifumi togo

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radiomayak · 4 years

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last ooc update I promise (tw some nihilism in the third paragraph)

I really am feeling some kind of way so you bet you’re going to see it reflected here. Please bear with me. I wanna write sad things. I basically only write Ivan regularly, as far as my creative writing goes. I only fic once or twice a year, if that, and none of them ever get finished.

Also now is a wonderful time to approach me because I’m on here daily but please understand that I’m not the cheeriest o in the cereal bowl... I really can’t muster the strength to greet you first but I’d be happy to see you.

New job, new school year, and I’m so afraid that I won’t live to be 21 in January not because of my own mental state or risk of hurting myself, in that respect I am doing just fine, possibly better than ever, but because I think between the election, the pandemic, natural disasters, and our accident-prone anno domini that my life is at risk.

#i am so sorry but I'm so gooey for social support rn but I don't want to overload everyone I know irl or change their perception of me #it's a huge thing but #idk #one of the closest friends I had for a long time was a tumblr pal #we don't talk anymore and I don't push them but #sometimes I still think there's a benefit in sharing myself with you #ooc

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

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Harry Styles x Barista!Reader.

Smut, pain kink and over-stimulation.

Mentions of past trauma and healing!

MASTERLIST, LETS TALK LOVIES!

Author's note: Your reblogs and appreciations means alot to me, token me a smile with your love.

His breath smells of strawberries and coffee, plushie lips dangerously close to her's making her half voracious gaze flicker between his lips and up at Tofu, kiss him kiss him you bloody fool, reeled in her head, "here lemme . . ." He notices her jitteriness fetching the birdy for her. She hiccups with a suck of breath when his knuckles brushed the inside of her palms while giving Tofu to her.

"Oi, Harry budge over you bugger!!" She hisses with sleepy voice but in return he squishes her more.

Y/N has a phobia for needles and Harry's her damsel in distress.

Something about bungalows not having stairs makes Y/N's cheeks puffs out in disappointing amazement. The fact she couldn't even climb at the rooftop when the summer sky's ornamented with cosmic stars twinkling with the each buzz of music from inside. She hiccups a giggle when the cool zephyr blew her frock away giving out a glimpse of her itty-bitties, glad no-one's in the diameter to have a show. The discernment falls to nothingness when she hears distinct rustle of someone behind the fat‐very-rooty-tree, it widens her eyes into saucers as she blinks comically.

It's not a squirrel she could tell. Couldn't be Ronny who went to take a wee cause all the darn washrooms inside were occupied and his bladder being the weakest, he went for a bush.

But, that bush's behind her and for a moment she forgot her friend even existed since she muted out his piss taking whistle a while ago.

All her frenzied assumptions fails when two figures camouflaged in the darkness tumbles from behind the tree. Her cheeks splashes with burning crimson when they separate with a loud, wet kissing noise and the two men doesn't seem any shy about it unlike Y/N who's foozling the frill of her dress as if she got caught in the middle of a fuck in public loo. Not that, it everrr happened with her, still she has an example set for such incidents.

"Oh, hi." The warble of unprevious voice wins in gaining her attention and she tries to squint through the pocosin of his eyes which glimmers under moonlight if she glances away too quick, she startles in her spot when a gruff voice speaks over them, "Ronny couldn't even occupy a shot of vodka in his bladder." She couldn't seem to flit her gaze away from his cherry of lips glistening from whatever activities they were having before (the only features she could see in such illumination) as the other guy and Ronny bantered off passing a cig in between them.

"Oi, shut up will ya." Ronny locks his arm with Y/N and she flinches that he hasn't even washed them yet, "c'mon truffles we don't wanna be here." He announces dragging her away and the humid air around them bubbled with chuckles.

"Huh." She quips all lost between the interaction and accidentally bumping into two beautiful men kissing eachother, she's totally jealous! Poor thing tries to jerk the mud from her toes and to have a last glimpse of the man with marble irirses.

"D'ya think I've a chance with that daddy-long- legs-one? Dunno, but he intimidates me so bad." Ronny whispers to her and she frowns sniffing with her already runny nose from being a bit tipsy, it's making her bouncy little by little and she knows the bevvys she had will have a full swing within the night, "why? He seems nice."

"His hotness truffles, it intimidates me." He scrapes his already chipped nail polish after washing his hands from the basin throwing towel at her face, she just sighs putting it back in the rack.

"How about you talk to him first." Parties has teeny perks of them and gigantic disadvantages 1) Ronny gets a school crush at every boy he looks at. 2) They get more sweaty, stinky, gluey and more wilder till the clock hits 4 am. Honestly, even if it wasn't for the free bevys she would have never stepped in.

"That's the hard part." They push people aside like stuffies getting cursed and groped in return.

"He's not gonna know himself, Ron, you dump-stick." Good she doesn't need to yell like before as the music has dimmed to a hum possibly about to shut down within minutes. Halting, beside some people crowded alongside the couch some sitting on it and their confused heads shots up at first at the sound of familiar vibrations.

The worst scenarios of someone having a bullet up in their hole and peeps around having a show passes for a mere sec in their heads, together, that's why they're friends since the first semester of UNI.

But, upon seeing what's the ruckus about Ronny shakes his head in utmost panic, "oh no . ." He tries to escape from her grip but she tugs him from collar, "Please Ronny, swear 'm ready to over come my fear! Nothing's gonna happen to me." They stand beside the guy sheepishly (like two elementary kids deciding who'll step inside the staff room first) a gun perched in his hand and Y/N realizes that he indeed's the same guy she met outside, this time she could see him properly and those hickorey of curls brushing the eternity of his popping clavicles.

His back to them but she could see the flex of his muscles from under the sheer black of his shirt with the each movement he does with his gun, she admits that he got prettier back than her.

"Ey Harry this's my friend Y/N and she wanna overcome her phobia of needles, be a damsel in distress pal." So, they know eachother. The whizz of gun stops midway and he dismisses the drunk dude under him tilting his chin to meet her eyes, and it was worth it as it took tiny gasp from her.

He's way beautiful than he was in the darkness.

Ronny was right. It daunts her a bit. The name Harry itself is some kind of royalty.

"Oh, hi there, again." He greets her with a warm smile and it glitter-glittery her insides, will you please not she scolds herself. It's probably the alchol her subconscious assures her but her nervousness from the idea of really doing this says otherwise.

"Have a seat, love." Oh holy goodness. He's as sober as judge and she at whole is miffed.

Harry isn't a popular senior. No. His charm's something that woos everyone and his name's always on the top list of invites, he avoids them though unless it's his closest friend. Him remaining to himself has casted a spell on everyone that his personality's intimidating and he's this sex god who has an only concern with fucking people.

He could be called a nerd from his grades everytime being higher than last semester but his attire and being a shining star of the Christmas tree gives it away.

Everyone likes him, ah-ah no everyone absolutely loves him. The thing's he has never felt the same in his twenty-one years of life and that's a fat bummer.

He just gives that "please stay away from me" aura, brows always sewn together and bottom lip jutted makes him appear rather passive aggressive to strangers (well the people who knows him loves him for being the most chill person walking around them).

Right now, he got a tat gun in his hand and everyone's getting a drunk tattoo for the remembrance of this stupid party or just that they've a kink for pain, possibly for humiliation too because what could a tattoo gotten in an unconscious state could bring you?

"Y'alright there?" He asks her and she bobs her head clamping her hands shut in her lap. The rainbow broch on his loafers intrigues her about his fashion senses, it makes her jealous she can't afford to have her own style, "Yeah!" She avoids to even give a spare glance to the gun in his hand because she knows the moment she'd, it will make her dizzy.

She feels bad for cliff hanging him to herself only but he doesn't seem to mind at all. Waits patiently for her to guard herself as Ronny pats her back like she's about to summo wrestle.

"Want me to start it?" He knows how bad it's for some people. Many times he had an encounter with weak hearted persons who got dragged into his parlour by their friends and ended up running away, "Can you give me a moment?" She lifts her head towards him and it makes his forehead knit into concerned lines.

The poor bug's giving a purple face as if she's about to throw up and her ears pink.

"Take all y'want, darlin'." His gentleness flows over her head, she thinks that the music has died or she has gone deaf, can't be neither, cause no-way that such a sweet call wouldn't make her toes all gooey.

"'M ready!" She puffs out a huge exhale moving her shaking wrist nearer to his grasp and he gives her a comforting look before wrapping his fingers one by one around her delicate wrist, skidding the stool he's been sitting on closer to her, "al'ight truffles 'ere we go — wouldn't hurt promise." He decides to stick with truffles since Ronny calls her with the nickname everytime he's at Harry's. Thought his blabbers of his friend were exaggerated coating of sugar but when she's sitting infront of him with those glinting eyes and soft flesh in which his lanky fingers seems to turn pudgy, he gets it why he calls her that.

He keeps on glancing up at her to see if she's okay — she has her hand placed atop Ronny's thigh while he distracts her with his "let's throw shade at mean bitches together" game and Harry just hovered the nib of it over her skin when she passed out but Ronny quickly placed his palm against her cheek to pull her back towards his shoulder.

"'M good . ." She comes back from it with a weak whsiper-y voice trying to straighten up but the instant her already blurry vision falls at the needle again making a line so small it isn't even visible she passes out again and this time Ronny seems unfazed talking to a girl beside him (trust the lad they've done it multiple times but the pain and fear of needles never let her have a single tattoo inked on her skin), leaving Harry to sweat over her.

Sighing he shuts down the machine putting it aside and presses the back of his hand against her forehead --- to be more appropriate, and when she remains as if in the land of nod completely knackered out and woolly in Ronny's arms he realizes that she has passed out for real.

"Truffles?" He doesn't get a response from her.

She puffers out her lips blowing raspberries gazing at the sunny sky from the clear glazed window of the shop, chin resting in the softness of her palm as the cosy hall of it emptied from the rush the time it striked noon. The start of her shift's always effete and warm with honey-bees buzzing over the pots of pastel flowers outside, but the evenings are most tiresome and she has to do the closing in a grumpy mood.

"Can you pass me the icing tube, forgot it under the counter shelf 'cos of that pain in ass customer." He's their regular. Has constant complaints that their tarts are too sugary and they need to thicken the formula for their lattes, Y/N just bobs her head at his tantrums finding a way to shoo him away with a promise of next time, "yeah uhh — " Gripping the edge of marble counter she squats down and giggles at herself as she looks funny with her knees making a tent of her ruffle frock.

The door-bell chimes indicating the presence of someone but she goes for her rampage knowing Cora's there to attend them and she was about to pull her head back when she hit it quite painfully against the upper shelf, "Ow!!" She squeaks rubbing the sore spot stabling herself while Cora chuckled taking the tube from her hand to go inside.

She never expected someone to occur at this hour, moreso, she never expected someone like him to pop out of nowhere at their shop. He just doesn't seem like a person to have a merry making at little cosy cafés all to himself, it's been driving her crazy, she cringes at herself everytime when the humiliation of passing out infront of him invades her thoughts.

Half of her heart wanted to see him again and other half was glad she never bumped in him — but seems like nature was evily against her.

"Oops hi!" When she couldn't fiddle with anything she adjusts her frilly apron and with her wrist brushes her loose tresses away which her bow failed to keep. He blinks for several times sipping in the consequence, though it gives her time to take in his appearance.

He's yet again, wearing a sheer shirt with white flower buds spiraling from his abs towards the broad of his chest displaying his inked skin underneath beautifully — it shimmers every time he shifts on his feet letting the sunlight fall on him. His curls tamed and silkier than before, he groomed himself too good it puts Y/N to shame for being a girl, a careless one.

"You work here?" He asks with a drawl as if he has a all the time to dedicate to her, "nope just broke in to do a fat robbery — wanna join?" He cackles, hard it quelled his tummy and it also made her smile blushy-ly that he didn't find her humour boring.

"Okie . . S' what you'll have?" Brassing the belly of his nose he clears his throat roaming his eyes to catch a perfect spot, "'s okay if'll be waitin' fo' someone there?" He points at the nook aligned with the fuchsia coloured book shelves, wooden pots hanging and embroidered throw pillows piled and some overflowing from the love seats.

"Totally!!" She chirps. The thought of him waiting for a date sinks summat a tiny globe of mud in her stomach and dunno why — She wishes she could've things that other people have without burning themselves in effort unlike her.

She watches him getting comfortable, scrutinising around with curious and adorable big peepers. He'd give her a shy smile everytime he'd catch her staring and she'd just shake her head treating her back to track, that he's on a date, but not with you.

She didn't forgot to ask him if he needs anything putting a glass of water at his coffee table without him requesting, it's perpetually hot and even her throat'd get dry after some minutes. He's been here for two hours and even though the weather cooled down spotting pearly drops of rain, perspiration still beaded at his forehead.

The bustle of on goers kept on dying and she feels bad for him, knowing the end of it, she's been there before many times. Even visualised it at this same shop far more she should thinking the world's kind enough to even let their date know with q single message.

Sensing his timorousness she paddles towards him getting a coconut cookie from the jar, onto the plate and sliding it in his line of vision. He seems flustered — everytime they've interacted she's the one to be not in one place and now he's ripping the threads of his tattered skinny jeans.

"You can munch on this cookie, if you want to!" He looks back and forth between the cookie and her, fuziness spreading in his chest glad at her kindness and enough trust in him to not to kick him out, "Thank you." He grabs it taking a bite and she giggles when in the single one he left no crumbs behind, his mouth's big, shut it already! and so pink so pulpy, oh my goodness I hate youuu!!

"'M sure your friend's on way, it's rainy, might —" He cuts her off with a dissapointed spurt of breath, "dunno." He sulks into sofa folding the corner of book's page.

"You still've an hour till the cáfe closes, don't loose hope!" She pats his shoulder and he gives her a weak smile doing that bunny scrunch of his nose, combing his already wrecked hair and thanks her for the next thousand time.

Harry had worst dates. This seems to top them. To be honest because of Y/N being here. What will she think? What if she thinks it's his fault? That he's a broken dummy who nobody wants to date? He wants to grumble and call his date to end things but he waits patiently as the sky turned lilacs of night.

Y/N feels remorseful and angry at the person who stood him up this pathetically. With a sad sigh she turns the closed sign to display outward silently looking at him while he's in his own trance, she disappears into the kitchen and Cora gives her a knowing eye.

"Not believing in love's my greatest descion up till far. It's impossibly hard out there." She retorts. Placing a hot chicken steak atop the alfredo pasta and sprinkles parsiman making it appetizing, "Tell him to better end things with a pig like them." She says in all seriousness handing the tray to Y/N.

He's there. Gazing outside with lips pressed into a thin line and he seems down with his loose errand of curls tucked into a man bun now, a perfect hairdo outta frustration "Harry." She keeps her voice low not to startle him gaining his attention.

"You didn't have to." He shakes his head and she made a noise un-recognized by him putting the tray on the table and moves the ottoman with her feet closer to him sitting on it, "let's be eachother's date for a day." She hands him a fork and he accepts gladly. His sulkiness wooshing away when she digs in taking a bite and smearing the sauce all over her lips.

"If you don't mind me asking, is it the same behind-the-tree guy?" He nods. She frowns spitting grumpily, "what a prat." With the help of knife she tears the steak equally sliding it to his side and he smiles boyishly sucking the corner of his lip inside.

"'M sorry, Harry." She squeezes his knee and it bundles up the air in his lungs, "'s okay truffles — glad you were there fo' a rescue."

"Y/N." She tells him forwarding her hand to shake and he slips his calloused ones to envelop her warmth. His cheeks turns pink when his stomach made noises of starvation, "you need to eat c'mon!" She nudges his elbow and he obliges.

After, filling their tummies satisfied and full she hands him a cuppa of latte with a foamy sleeping kitty floating over it she even made two eyes and the uwu kitty smile with the cocoa powder, "pardon me if it seems like I murdered the poor thing . . . 'm still learning from Cora." His giggles were absolutely amazed and gleeful.

"It looks so good, I don't feel like stirin' it." He pats the bum of steamed floffy kitty with the curve of his tea spoon and it makes her giggle some. Relishing onto strawberry pastries and crumpets oozed into butter, sipping onto their lattes, watching the sky turning dark with the rain while Cora left them hours ago to themselves.

She puts a velvet cloak around herself after closing the shop and Harry waits for her as she takes her bicycle, "Thank ye' Y/N. 'S kind of you." He stirs his gaze from his shoes to her face smiling brightly at her and she waves him off with blushy cheeks, they walk along under the shelters of sideways shops avoiding to get soaked while she holds the steering of her bicycle.

"You can lounge at my place, till the rain stops." When he shakes his head she quips turning into the street, "I insist." They stop infront of the old white sculptured building having two floors in total.

The first thing she does entering into her flat's greet Tofu (it's a Bush-tit a white furball with two curious tich button eyes) leaving Harry to get out of his shoes and slip into her house ones (they barely fits him -- making him chuckle at the size difference).

His eyes giving a beautiful glimmer under the glow of the yellow light as he looks around the space, it's simple, with a bedding on wooden floor, a circle shelf against the window lined up with green plants, a desk opposite to it and a golden standing cage of her pet bird.

"Hi bubba missed me much?" She opens the cage to let it out and the chonky white bird sits on her fingers happily, "Harry meet Tofu." His lips curve upward at the lil thing as he caress it's fluffy head.

"Tofu looks like a snowball." He muses with bambi eyes and she agrees with excitement, "Sometimes I wanna squish him, cause he's just too cute." His eyes widens comically laughing softly at her statement.

"Evil thought said out aloud with cuteness still remains evil, love." Tofu hoped over Harry's finger and he takes him towards his shoulder making it sit there but he has another plans, to rest his furry bum over Harry's head making both of them giggle, "c'mon now birdy time to fill your tummy." She tip-toes to catch him in her palms and knocks her nose with Harry's in the way.

"Make yourself home!" She announces going to feed her pet and Harry flops onto her bed quite comfortably with his sweny legs stretched wide over the floor. They watched episodes of 'Bridgeton' wounded under her blankets and she almost fell asleep when he offered her genuinely.

"I'll help ye' have a tattoo, tiny atleast."

"Means alot to me." She yawns pondering with lug brain whether to snuggle into him or not, she did anyways. In the morning she was woken up by cold sheets and beeps of messages from Harry that made her feel she endured wings of fairy and she's bathing in the glitter of happiness.

She stares at the shop infront of her in amazement. It's friday night. She winded up all her assignments and came to this place exactly how it was mentioned in the address, when she enters inside spare teens and a bulky man was waiting outside the office thing-y . . .? Y/N presumes — an assistant chewing loudly on her gum talking onto phone with someone in hushed bratty tone and when Y/N knocks at the counter her piercing stare startles her a bit.

"Yes?" How rude! Y/N thinks with a pouty lip at her striking tone and she clears her throat, "'m here to meet . . . Harry." The snarky assistant rolls her eyes dismissing Y/N quickly to move back to her lazying, "He's busy." Y/N picks her finger to interject murmuring something under her breath and strolls back to wait with everyone.

Sun sets outside shimmering evening pink inside the lobby and the door atlast opens making her head perk up, "pet?" He looks sternly to his assistant but she doesn't seem fazed.

"Harry." Y/N grins, "Fo' how long you've been here?" She feels good someone's caring for her even though it's just for the fact she waited some hours for him, "doesn't matter can 've a tour?" He nods and the bratty assistant eyes him furiously taking Y/N's hand to lead her.

Harry watches her with dimply smile when she babbles at the details of his working station, "do I sit here?" She asks excitedly and he shakes his head, "yes, you may." They scrutinise through his sketches of designs together and she squeezes his wrist.

"Harry you're so talented! Look at 'em." He never felt this flustered with the compliments before button nose scrunching adorably. She chooses a a small plain jamsine flower nothing more, nothing less watching collect things for the process, "it's one of me mama's favourite." He exclaims rather proud snapping the latex gloves round his wrist.

"Where d'ya want it?"

"Where it hurts less." She replies wiping the sweat away with her frock, "it's outer shoulder, yer arm, calves and arse — " His mischievous grin awfully stretchy and she she slaps his bicep playfully.

"Outer shoulder?" She tells him confused to herself. He agrees strolling his stool near to her as she turns her back to him; his fingertips twitches when he pushes her hair to the side.

"Can you uh . . mm." She groans trying to reach for the zipper of her frock and he smoothes down his erratic heartbeat muttering, "yeah sure." She digs her nails into the delicate flesh of her palms when his calloused cold knuckles brushed deliberately against her skin while skimming the zip down slowly. Her eyelids flutter like butterfly wings when he slides her sleeve down her arm revealing her shoulder and it's so supple that Harry had to come back from his reverie; lick his lips to moisture.

He applies the numbing cream and she hisses softly the leather of seat sticking to her calves, her nerves jumbles and body startles when Harry starts the gun without warning her.

He loops his arm around her waist atop her thigh massaging it assuringly — sure it did nothing but to make her core throb insatiably as his rasp melted in her ears, "you're okay puppy." She gulps saying no word feeling her body getting hot at the each stroke of his thumb over her waist line.

"Ah -- Harry." She gasps out of air grasping his hand tightly at the sting of pain. She's baffled at the reactions of her body, her panties getting wet and the displeasing constant pricking of needle quenching out noises she never thought she was able to give out. When she whines and squirms Harry presses her down with force shushing her, "bug just a mo' it's smaller and would be done in seconds." She kisses her teeth bobbing her head vigorously and Harry chuckles at her effort remaining polite.

"Done!" He announces pulling away to admire it and when he hears the lil sniffles he quickly leaves everything sitting infront of her on the seat, "darlin' don't like it when ye' cry." He wipes her tears away not even glancing at her exposed collarbones and the plump flesh of her tits barely covered with her arm.

Soft and squishy, soft and squishy, soft and squishyyyyy.

His mind screams but her whimpery voice distracts him, "'m just gleeful that I've a tattoo because of you." He wraps it up expertly and zips her dress back with ever gentleness, "happy tears then?" She giggles with a grateful nod.

"Want a hug?" He thinks she deserves one for being brave and nice against her fear, "cuddle me up." She murmurs with swollen eyes and peachy cheeks. Uff — it stirs his cock in his jeans arousing the need to be with her everytime.

He rests his chin mushily into the crook of her neck swarming his arms around her waist to squeeze her warmly and she snuggles against his throat, damp lips puckering against his adam apple making it bob.

He feels jammy to be able to have a moment like this with her.

"Chinese takeout?" He collects his sketch journals, his phone, fedora apparently, keys of his motorbike and a spare helmet for her, "Yes please!"

They ate the take out perched against his bike with the meadow vast laying feet aways from them, under the breezy sky they conversed and Harry already got a tender spot for her in his heart. He never reaches to a stage where he could get to know someone with this passion and Y/N isn't from someone who'd guard herself from him just because his father was in the bad business.

As the evening brisked with cool dew of summer grass Harry leaned into her more and more.

He finds her little things infatuating, her bonding with Tofu and her dire wish to make good bum steamed kitties on the lattes, she has an irrefutable love for floral dresses and her homely habbit is doing ribbon work.

She got to know that Harry owns the tattoo shop, teaches few blokes the skill of it in free hours. He'ad attended lots of parties raving ones and the boring ones of higher socials, never lets any stranger step inside his loft which's situated upstairs of his shop. His father does all the criminaly things, he's this master mind in doing the evil things for people from getting money out of their enemies yada yada and Harry despises him for it, moreso, that he left them. He doesn't want to be associated with him in any case — he's none like him, he's kind and soft-hearted like his mother.

Y/N loves his goofy side. The one that cracks jokes and puns -- makes her fall in love with him without her even trying.

Last and foremost he has the render love for sheer shirts — told her he has shimmery ones for the fancying off.

"S'm no stranger then." She quips beside his shoulder as Harry unlocked his home's door. He glances her timidly amicably hovering over her lips, "absolutely not, yeh me bezzy." He raises his fist and she bumps it giggling.

Y/N that night sleeping on his bed dreamt of them laying together into the pillows of growing daffodils of meadow, lining up the stars in the sky and tell each other what they made ----- galloping rabbit, a slipping cake and she'd laugh with ugly snorts when Harry tells her that he sees a massive dick.

His grin proud and mellow to make his bezzy laugh. She squeaks when he pulls her onto him but soon her dreamboat sinks as she stirs at the warmth swallowing her whole.

She startes from her blurrines at something trapping her down till she recognizes the familiarity of two mascular arms sewn around her waist and what the fuck?

Harry made a makeshift pallet on the floor and right now she's all over him, pressed tightly against his chest — her cheeks turns red with embarrassment from being this clumsy and falling over him in her sleep.

"Oi, Harry budge over you bugger!!" She hisses with sleepy voice but in return he squishes her more.

Taking her face out of his neck she admires the softness of his features when he's asleep and the dotting of beautiful moles, sighing a huge relaxed puff of breath and canoodles into him like an affection starved kitty.

It's another cool rainy day and Y/N keeps on swabbing the droplets of water off from her eyes with her elbow trying to paddle her bicycle. She was on her way to Harry's when the skies betrayed her. Standing on his doormat she soaks it completely waiting for him to answer the door, sad, that her gift was ruined too.

"Lovin' ye'll catch a cold – shit come inside." Concerned he ushers her inside his loft, halts in his tracks when she remains behind adoring a gruffy pout, "what is it?" He asks walking to her and cups her cheeks the instant.

"Embroidered ye' a shirt 's destroyed now." She raises it to show him and he stares it for good seconds before swiping her off the floor – hugging her to radiate the sentiment of endearment he carries for her in his heart. It bloats her cheeks pressed against his clavicles and her feet dangles as he sways them with a happy noise of favourite melody she's unfamiliar with, "Thank you, thank you, thank you." He kisses her temple and it lingers at the tip of his tongue.

I could kiss you right fuckin' now, pet.

"Harry you got wet too, dummy!!"

"Oops, guess we both have to change now."

Harry already set mixers for her on the luke points so that she wouldn't have to pull out her hair just to take a shower (his shower's quite complicated) leaves his shirt and boxers for her on his bedside, putting the lilac sheer shirt she embroidered for him in the dryer.

When she comes outside with trippy hair he already has two glasses of wine filled and windows closed to keep her warm.

She isn't a wine person. She was never able to afford it and it never settled with her tummy (she shares too much and feels bubbly with the rose coloured bevvy). Harry's gaze rakes from floor to her ankles snapping directly to her face and it's just snoggles his heart with fondness, seeing her drooled in one of his shirts.

"Need ya not to worry ye'r gift is good as before." He assures her and she flops onto the sofa beside him, "Thank you Y/N." He says genuinely and she waves him with small smile, "hush you."

They drink in silence, then soon it rośed their cheeks and noses making them giggly and floaty. A bottle gone in just a span of a time. She rumbles her lips stretching out, the twinkle of her belly showing and he does the same, eyeing him she slides down on the floor perching her elbow over the coffee table and YET AGAIN HE FOLLLOWS HER ACTIONS.

"Are you mimicking me?" She squints at him and he squints back, "are ye' mimickin' meh?" She smacks his bicep playfully and when he does the same though the force of it lighter than her's adoring mischievous grin making her squeal with chuckles, "Harry!"

He quips back in equal girlish pitch, "Harry!" blinking peepers up at her softly — to test her fates, the recipe of her drunken state and her heart bursting with affection for him she jests at him.

"I like you and might be falling in love with you." She says without holding back a breath and his eyes widen in an animated way chin slipping from his palm, "You what?" He's in utter shock. He has never come across the words she just said with so much delicacy and sincerity — it boggles him to an extent his tongue got tied.

"Say it back now, huh?" She smirks at him shaking from inside counting on to get rejected and ridiculed. Upset at herself more than him at his lack of response, clearing her throat she whispers.

"So — " But, her apology strucks in her throat when he pulls her to himslef with a gentle grip to her elbow. Grabs her jaw tenderly and with the ardent boldness smushes his lips against her's to seal his affinity for her in a kiss that's so soft it melts her inside. His hands brews at her sides and glides up to their destination, to cup her cheeks and deepen the kiss while billowing her in his lap comfortably. He devours the plumness of her lips, tracing the curve of her bottom one with his warm tongue and kisses the corner of her lips again and again making her puff out air from her nostrils.

He has kissed people and it was always to lead something to satisfy the cavity of loneliness, but this, this already feels like home sitting infront of the Autunm fire eating cookies and drinking milk. She feels like the mold he's meant to melt into and explore every ridge of it.

She doesn't not know what's filthier the string of spit that's connecting them or his raspberry lips that she could kiss and kiss for forever, he doesn't stop there pecks her several times with lil smooches, "You're really good at it." She winds her arms tight around the nape of his neck murmuring against him (she wants to make him feel appreciated), his cock chubbing up in his trousers and it lulls her head against his cheek upon feeling it. The thought of having him hard for her boasts the genitilty in herself and she kisses his smiling mouth.

"Wanna make ye' feel good." He presses his lips back against her's with more passion than before and tips her chin with his thumb to stamp lil pecks down her throat feeling his lips tingling to kiss her again, it's way better than he envisioned. Her softness could swallow him and the thought makes his hips stutter imagining his hard prick sucked inside her swelled up walls. His large calloused hands meander down her bottom taking the ripeness of it in a bunch of squeeze.

"On the bed." He pats her bum pinching it playfully and she squeaks obliging him giggles when she bounces over the bed. Him crawling behind her as lion ready to feast over a hare.

Leaning against the head of the bed he lays her between his wide spread legs, her back against his chest and their fronts facing the tall framed mirror infront of them.

"Comfy?" She bobs her head gulping cause no one has ever cared what'll be consuming for her and what not, "I want ye' to look in the mirror sweet girl, at us." He rasps in her ear stroking the hilt of her jaw in continuous circles and when she hums fluttering her eyelids, arching her back at the throb of her pussy and his dirtiness making her slick down to her bum he glides his thumb inside her mouth telling her to, "get 'em proper wet for me." She does coating his thumb with her saliva and flicking her tongue over it many time while he glazes his palms over her ribs, under the crescent of her tits shirt pulled to her collarbones.

She gags around his digit when he took her perky nipple in between his middle and index pulling it then kneads it with a kiss to her earlobe getting her out of his boxers telling her, "enough, pet." When she doesn't listen to him and kept on sucking thinking of his cock in her mouth he gruffs splitting her thighs apart and pressing the soles of her feet tightly against the mattress with his own ankles, "I said enough." Shushing her hungry kitten whimpers he trails his wet thumb down her fallen lip and chin, popping her shirt open and rims it around her areola, "s' soft wanna rub me cock between 'em tits." The shiver that hits her makes her squirm and Harry gives a chaste kiss to her open mouth putting his thumb at her entrance ready to play with her cunt.

"Your eyes open 'em fo' me, puppy." He ducks down to kiss her not letting her turn around himself so that her neck doesn't strain while caressing his fingers up and down in her slickness making soapy noises on purpose, when she finally looks in the mirror locking eyes with him as if he's holding the most precious gem in his arms — the sight turned her spine into a sharp arrow, "c - ca-can I've more?" She gasps squeezing his bicep pussy lips fluttering and her hole palpitates aching for him.

"My polite girl." He smiles awfully fonded at her and she nods licking her lips to speak, "'m good, good always." He pushes his two fingers inside her cunt and she moans with her whole will trying to sink herself to his knuckles nails digging into his shoulders, "I know ye'r." He assures her sliding them out and teasing her little pink asshole turning her into a whining mess.

She twitches around his fingers when he pumps them back along with her sticky wetness and fucks her with them, flickering her clit with his other hand and kneads the inside of her fleshy thigh. She gives out a gaspy moan of unbearable pleasure when his cock's stiffeness rubs between her asscheeks, "ye' feel it? S' fo' you, gonna stuff yeh full of me cock, fuck you nice n' warm and cum all over yer pussy. How you deserved to be fucked, is that okay?" She never expected him this much of a lewd talker — hell she didn't even expected him to step out of his conserved, rather shy demeanour, "yes, yes, yes." She visioned him as a curt dom, who's more into BDSM but he's warm and caring with her. Just in few second of them doing it he proved it how much he's loving to please her.

"Ah! 'm gonna cum . . . gonna —" His sweet vulgar words combined with him toying, rubbing and fingereing her already swollen pussy tips her to the edge she was desiring to get from him, "cum all over me fingers. Want it s' bad from ye darlin', to see you." He says in a tone that's on the verge of pleading but holds a commanding hint under it and with her bones all stiffing, her skin burning and heart buzzing she snaps into her own dreamy world gushing over his fingers with her juices.

"Oh . . Harry." She loudly mewls thrashing in his arms from the intensity of her orgasm and he holds her tight with his arms wrapped around her torso, kisses to the curve of her neck and exposed collarbones. He notices her stiring away from his hand due to sensitivity and takes out his fingers with a squelching popping noise that made her blink from her semblance. Her chest heaves as she watches him in the mirror licking her cum off his wrists with the tip of his pink tongue, "mhm tastes s' sweet." One by one he sucks his finger humming around them seductively spiking her insides yearing to be fucked by him, "just like you sweet puppy."

Gently laying her down he knees infront of her getting out of his flimsy shirt and Y/N admires the flounce of tattoos trailing from his pecks down his adorable love handles. Her gaze stops at the his happy trail leading down to where he's swelled up against his zipper and she hasn't seen someone so beautiful in her entire life, he shimmies his joggers down teasingly with a smirk and she whines hiccuping when his cock slaps against his lower abdomen making her eyes go wide.

"Oh my . . " She gasps at the gorgeous sight of his rock-hard cock between his supple thighs. He's beautifully big, satiny and a dot of shade lighter than his lips making his prick so kissable, would it even fit?? She could already imagine it stretching her out gracefully and stimulating her in ways her fingers could never, "you're so gorgeous button."

The shiny swollen tip, and the dollop of pre-come weeping down his slit alluring her to have him in her mouth but he strokes it not to waste it.

"What's the pout fo' darlin'?" He asks as she stares it making him all shy but he overcomes it persistent to make her feel good (she shared with him that she never knew what being cared feels like) he wanna gives her all lovin' as she did to him the day in cafe. Cups the nape of her neck to bring her for another kiss splitting his thumb into her hair and the moment is so vulnerable and saccharine as he snogs her to floatiness, "will make sure it fits — make you cum many times, baby." He flips her gently.

"On ye tummy fo' me, like an atta pup ye're." It knots her stomach into ropes and she jolts squealing softly into pillows when he smacked her peach watching it jiggle while tugging at his prick to coat it with his thick wetness.

He moans biting his lower lip lulling his head over his shoulders stroking the head of his cock between her asscheeks and round her entrance not pushing at once torching both of them, "you're so delicate wanna be slow with you." He whispers to her pressing his front against her shoulders while wrapping his hand around his shaft to push inside her.

"It's okay!" Her tiny squeaks rolls into a moan when the head of his cock settles inside her and when she twitches around it he cruffs a groan coaxing her sides, "shhh baby 's okay relax fo'me." Taking his hand away from around himself he places it atop her ass withdrawing and looking down to see her cunt glistening with his and her's wetness — then bottoming out deep inside her till his balls are snug against her bum. His stomach twists with pleasure at the warmth that blankets his cock completely making him hunch but he recoups with his arms pressed beside her temple.

The stretch that burns through her core's so pleasing and fulfilling. It hurts in a good way. She knows how patient and composed he's being for her, from the way he fattens tucked inside her walls and he slides his hand between her front and the sheets to caress her soft breasts moving with rough pace.

"Don't stop, please." She recites the mantra almost crushing his fingers with her grip around, it's alot, the constant rub of sheet against her clit and him driving inside her from behind with moans sexier than in erotic audio books. He draws loose circles over her mound making her thighs spread wider with the inability to hold them as he pinched her clit coercion her sensitive button, "oh my god . ." With the whimpers of his name she squirts around his cock and it makes her throw her hips at him.

When he pulls out to turn her on back she whines with a frown, heaving chest and coral cheeks looking totally fucked already, "wanna see ye'r face when you come . . . s' beautiful." He hisses hauling her legs around his waist lowering himself down to enter her with lil smooches to her cheeks, "cum again fo' me baby — yeah just like that squeeze on meh." He pounds her over and over grinding his pelvis against her's to stimulate her in every way.

Feeling the heat crackling in her bones and tummy she takes him by shoulders to cuddle him closer to her chest raising her hips to meet his's, a crying mess, with glossiness twinkling at the corners of her eyes as she comes with euphoria dawning upon her and Harry works her up again.

"Once more, love, i know you've one more fo' me." He gives out a purry groan biting her throat and the valley of her chest, snuggling against it with kisses — when she shakes her head through around him he lines up his nose against her nose petal–ling his lips over her's, "yes you could puppy my sweet — " His eyelids bolting shut at the built of up of his own release and the moment she cums with his cock now he shoots his thick spurt deep inside her.

"This's what it only took fo' you? Callin' ye mere sweet names." He fucks her through it and Y/N admits that he went with his promise --- fucked her like she had never before, they remain like that for some time catching their breaths and then he pulls out of her gently and pumps himself to empty his load shooting it over her pussy and abdomen, "you came so much." She says completely baffled and he steals a chaste kiss from her looking at the white ribbons sticking to her skin.

"Just for you, babyhun."

He tells her not to move and whisks away coming back with a pack of baby wipes. Her hearts swirls with so much fondness for him when he pats the wipes between his palms to get them less cold and shushes her with pecks when she hisses with sensitivity.

They take another shower, this time together and it's not sexual at all though alot of tired poofy kisses and cute yawns were included as they gave eachother shampoo massages and she'd cooe everytime untangling his long hickorey curl.

They changed the sheets (unapologetically very clumsily) and he fetches a glass of water for her making it drink her.

When they were cuddled awfully good he lifts his head up from it was nuzzled between her titties. His accent drawly and slippery from tiredness, "Y/N." He checks if she's asleep and she hums in response starting to play with his hair lazily.

"That day when me date didn't show up?" Witha half heart she hums again, she doesn't like to talk bout that day, because the hopelessness that conquered him that evening still makes her sad.

"I was glad ye' were there 'n 'm so so so thankful that he didn't show up. Else we wouldn't be here in eachother's embrace 'n me heart still'd been mournful to sleep in cold sheets waiting fo' me person." It's the most he has talked in his soberness. It wells up tears in both of their eyes.

"You're my person." She cradles his face hating it that he was kept so love starved his entire life and she gazes him dearly, sweetly, affectionately all the words that could describe love for someone spilling out of the chambers of heart.

"I want to love you so much, pet, make you me most treasured human hershey."

"I'm in, cuddle me up." He grins smauching a loud kiss to her lips and cosying back to his previous spot purring like a kitten thrown into heaps of fluffy blankets.

#HARRY STYLES SMUT #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry smut #harry x y/n #harry styles blurb #cute harry #hsh #fluff #harry angst #harry styles fanfiction #dom harry #HARRY WRITINGGGG

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pines-troz · 3 years

Text

Weekend With The Warners: Chapter Nine

Summary: When the CEO assigns Pinky and The Brain with the important task of watching over the Warners for the weekend, Brain is prepared for any antics that the children have in store. What he didn’t take into account was forming a familial bond with the kids.

Word Count: 13,643

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27849962/chapters/79879516

Inside the cab, the Warners were gathered in the back seat of the vehicle, anxious to reach Acme Labs. Wakko was overwhelmed with guilt for not saving Pinky and Brain from their lab coat-wearing captors. They buried their face into Yakko’s chest while the eldest Warner did his best to soothe the middle child’s woes.

“It’s all my fault,” Wakko whimpered.

“Shhh, don’t be so hard on yourself Wakko,” Yakko gently reassured, pulling his younger sib closer to his side. “You did what you could.”

“But now they’re probably going through some terrible experiments.” Wakko lamented.

“They won’t be, at least not for long,” Yakko said determinedly. “We’ll bust ‘em outta there and give those scientists a taste of their own…”

Dot overheard her older siblings’ exchange while conducting some research on her smartphone. The Warner sister looked up Acme Labs on various websites and was surprised to learn about the company’s terrible reputation on many levels. Unethical animal testing and workplace complaints surrounding sexual harassment.

She knew that Acme Labs must have been bad enough for Animaniacs to poke fun at them with the Pinky and The Brain segments, but never to such a heinous degree.

The cab turned a corner and reached a foreboding facility that stood underneath the suspension bridge and close to the city skyscrapers. Yakko took his debit card from his hammerspace and swiped it through the machine, paying a cab fare of $12.95.

“Thanks for the ride, pal.” Yakko quietly told the cabbie as he exited the vehicle. Wakko and Dot also thanked the driver as they followed their older brother out of the van.

The driver gave them a wary look as the siblings walked away, wondering what three toon children would want to do in a laboratory on the rough side of town. Once the siblings entered the front gates of Acme Labs, the vehicle zoomed off, leaving a cloud of exhaust behind as he drove away.

The siblings stared at the company’s new logo, a blue sign with orange lettering. The company adapted with the times in regards to giving itself a minimalist makeover as opposed to the flashing red lights or the bold green-yellow neon lights from the 90s. But the trendy, consumer-friendly glow-up did little to conceal the company’s dark and hideous nature when it came to animal cruelty. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot stood close to each other as they faced the foreboding laboratory that contained their new special friends.

Acting as the ringleader of the group, Yakko alerted his younger siblings as he clapped his hands together. “Alright, sibs, our family is in danger and it’s up to us to rescue them.”

Wakko nodded in agreement as a grim frown crossed his face. “Right. Then let’s give those scientists hell,” he darkly muttered as he took out an unusually large wooden mallet from his hammerspace intending to clobber any white coat he came across.

But before Wakko could make their vicious rampage, Yakko put his index finger on their red cap, stopping the middle child in their tracks. “I admire your valiant and unwavering spirit, Wakko, but we can’t just go in guns a-blazin'.”

“Yeah, we need to develop a game plan to outsmart those scientists,” Dot interjected. “And I believe I came up with a foolproof strategy to trick those whitecoats and liberate Pinky, Brain, and all the other animals imprisoned in the lab.”

Yakko perked up his ears. “Ooh, so what do you have in mind, sis?”

Dot motioned for her older siblings to come closer. Yakko and Wakko were eager to hear what their baby sister had planned and immediately ran to her side. The siblings formed a group huddle and Dot whispered her plan with hushed excitement.

- - - - - -

Inside the other testing room, Pinky sat on the exercise wheel with his limbs sprawled out while holding a half-eaten food pellet. The mouse wistfully observed the green cage. Everything looked the same. The green bars, the straw floor, an exercise wheel, a full water bottle, and a food pellet dispenser. The only thing missing was Brain.

Pinky felt all achy and gooey and Garfunkley without the love of his life. He began to pull on the metal tag that tightened around his right ear. He figured that the scientists tried to give him some free jewelry as compensation for participating in the separation experiment. While a nice gesture, nice shiny objects couldn’t replace the warmth and comforting companionship of his partner. But he had to be strong for Brain. A month without his beau would be difficult, but he needed to gather all of his strength to persevere. So he decided to lift his spirits by singing the one song he believed could solve all his problems.

“Just say narf! Just say narf!” Pinky sang boisterously. The mouse waved his feet to the beat of the song, hoping to feel its cheerful energy. “Don’t you know to be glad, just say narf!”

But as he sang, the somber ambiance of the room remained unchanged. The scientists surrounding his cage merely scribbled on their notepads, ignoring the mouse’s tune. Pinky’s spirits dwindled as he sang the next verse. “Every day is a joy and so marvelous.” But his hopeful optimism was snuffed out like a candle. “Don’t you ruin it with plenty of fuss.” His enthusiasm was diminished into tiredness as he finished the verse.

“Just say zort, just say- Poit! Oh, what’s the point?” The downtrodden mouse drearily declared. Pinky took another bite of his food pellet and sighed. He’d tried to sing the one song he used to cheer up Brain, only to find that it wasn’t working its usual magic.

As he swallowed the chewed-up food pellet, he took another glance at the big chunk of swiss cheese that stood in the middle of the cage. While he initially took a few bites of the cheese after the scientists placed the plate down, he couldn’t bring himself to finish it. He had lost his ability to taste cheese after numerous experiments the scientists put him through as a young mouse. Though he secretly envied Brain for having his taste buds intact, he loved hearing him describe the different tastes of various cheeses. But Pinky was content with the food pellets that the scientists provided. They reminded him of his home life with Brain, and any positive reminder of Brain was good enough for him. Though the food pellets would be more satisfying if he had some three-in-one oil to sautee them with.

Pinky let out another woeful sigh. Perhaps he should try to sing again at night after the scientists left. He could belt out ‘Somewhere, Out There’ to the pale moonlight and pray that Brain would sing the accompanying verses from the other room; Maybe then, Pinky would feel less alone.

Meanwhile, in the other testing room, Brain curled himself into a fetal position facing the glass wall. The mouse stared at his pitiful reflection: his floppy ears flattened against his bulbous head, the grey bags underneath his eyes, and the small amount of snot that oozed from his twinkling red nose. Brain kept all of his focus on his hideous appearance and away from the small cheese platter that stood in the center of the cage. The melancholic mouse let out a ragged sigh. He needed to be strong for Pinky. But he could only hope that the inane experiments the scientists had in store for him were manageable at least.

It was then that the faint sound of crinkling static reached his ears. Brain furrowed his brow in confusion and turned his attention toward the intercom stereo perched above the doorway.

“Helloooo, scientists!” a fast-talking young voice exuberantly announced.

Brain slowly propped himself up from his position by the side of his cage when he heard Yakko Warner’s enthusiastic voice. Could it truly be him? Or maybe this was just a hallucination cruelly reminding him of what he once had. But the sight of the scientists turning their attention towards the intercom was proof enough that this was very much happening.

“So the CEO of Acme sent me and two other unpaid interns down to congratulate you all on the tremendous work you’ve accomplished so far this year,” Yakko announced. “And as a reward for all of your hard work, he’s holding a surprise party, where you’ll each be receiving a bonus check of five thousand dollars!”

The scientists gaggled excitedly amongst themselves. Brain raised his brow upwards at the sight of the white coats getting ecstatic over the news.

In the other room, Pinky sat up straight on the exercise wheel upon hearing Yakko talking through the intercom. The mouse grinned from ear to ear.

“Egad, Yakko is here! And that must mean that Wakko and Dot are somewhere in the lab as well!” Pinky happily thought as he tugged his feet and eagerly rocked himself back and forth. “Troz! Oh, I knew those little sweethearts would come to our rescue!”

“But that’s not all, folks,” Yakko added eagerly. “We’re closing up shop early to hold a special party for all you special scientists!” The teen’s voice dripped with venom at the word ‘special’. “There’ll be a buffet table, party games, music, and a ball pit! So everyone come on down to the garage right away to receive your bonuses and we’ll get this party started!”

The scientists dropped their notepads and cheered. Brain watched the scientists rushing through the door, no doubt stampeding down the hall to receive their coveted prizes. The short mouse glanced around the empty room and allowed a devious grin to cross his face. Those moronic scientists had bought every lie Yakko fed them. Hook, line, and sinker.

In the other room, Pinky grinned as the scientists fled the room. The mouse merrily hopped around the room, dancing for joy. The kids were going to rescue him and Brain and they’d all be reunited once more!

Back at the office, Yakko, who now donned a white lab coat and floral button-up shirt in addition to his regular attire, turned off the intercom button and leaned back in the office chair. The teen merrily spun around in his wheelie chair. Everything was going according to plan!

Yakko then hopped off the chair, opened up the window, and dove to the ground, secretly thankful he was only on the first floor. The teen took out a lab coat from his hammerspace, hastily putting it on as he ran around the building.

Once he reached the garage, he found a large white truck sitting by the open door. Yakko walked around the vehicle and noticed Wakko’s other self, the one he met during that fateful trip to Paris, happily humming in the driver’s seat. The other Wakko greeted Yakko with a friendly wave, and Yakko happily waved back before sprinting through the open door.

Wakko and Dot, who also donned lab coats, waited patiently in other parts of the garage. Dot settled inside the ball pit while Wakko sat on one of the ceiling lamps. Yakko joined his younger sister in the ball pit. The siblings looked over to Wakko, who eagerly gave a thumbs up. Yakko and Dot smiled mischievously as they dove into the ball pit.

Seconds later, the scientists clamored in the room all at once, eager to receive their checks. But all they saw was a few tables filled with various bags of chips and a pitiful-looking kiddie pool filled with colorful balls. They all looked at each other in confusion, murmuring about the poorly prepared party.

Acting quickly, Wakko descended the ceiling and landed on their feet. The middle Warner sibling slammed the door shut and proceeded to board up the door with wooden boards and nails. Satisfied with their handiwork, Wakko turned around and flashed a sinister grin at the scientists. Wakko then reached into their hammerspace and pulled out a comically large roll of packaging tape and immediately wrapped up five of the scientists in tape.

“Dear Lord, one of our failed experiments has come back for revenge!” A middle-aged scientist shrieked in terror. The other scientists screamed as they backed away from the unusual creature of indeterminate species.

On cue, Yakko and Dot emerged from the ball pit with gift wrapping and packaging materials at their disposal. The Warner brother bounced near one scientist and imprisoned him with gift wrapping paper. Satisfied with his handiwork, he proceeded to tie up the next ten scientists with the same method of capture. The Warner sister noticed the nine scientists trying in vain to make their escape through the garage door and immediately pounced on them. She enveloped them into a giant dust cloud as she secured them with wrapping paper. Once the dust cleared, Dot happily clapped her hands as the scientists struggled to release themselves.

Wakko hopped over to the back of the truck and pulled up the door. Yakko and Dot wheeled the hapless scientists into the truck on box carriers. The siblings gave each scientist a comical smooch before dumping them into their vehicular cage.

The siblings hopped out from the truck. Yakko quickly did a headcount of all of the scientists as he ignored their cries for help.

“Well I think everyone is accounted for!” the eldest Warner declared.

However, the sudden sound of a door falling to the ground reached their ears. The toon siblings turned around to see three security guards gawking at the sight.

“Well, almost everyone is accounted for,” Yakko remarked.

He looked to his younger siblings, each of them sharing diabolical grins, before lunging at the guards and enveloping them in a messy dust cloud. Once the cloud dispersed, the guards were tightly wrapped in wrapping paper and decorated with tape-on ribbons.

Dot sprinted towards the back of the truck as Yakko and Wakko heaved up one of the guards to throw to their sister. The older Warners tossed the first guard over to Dot, who caught him with relative ease. She gave him a smooch on the cheek before tossing him into the truck. The siblings repeated the process with the other two security guards. Once their adversaries were all piled in the truck, Dot flashed them a feigned friendly smile.

Yakko hopped over towards the back of the truck, reached up the handle, and slammed the door shut. He clapped the dust from his hands and happily gazed at his siblings. “Well, phase one went down much easier than I expected.” He declared as he pulled Wakko and Dot into a tight hug. “Great job sibs!” Dot happily nuzzled her brother’s cheek while Wakko happily wagged their tail upon receiving the compliment.

The other Wakko put their head out through the window and grinned at the Warners.

“Thanks for all the help, Other Me!” Wakko shouted with a smile.

“Anytime, pal!” The Other Wakko replied with a thumbs up. “Next stop: Denver, Colorado!” He returned to the driver’s seat and eagerly turned on the ignition. The truck drove through the garage door, sped out of the lab, and zoomed through the street.

The Warners waved as the truck drove off into the distance. With the first phase of the rescue mission complete, the siblings took off their lab coats and tossed them to the side. They clapped the dust off their gloved hands when a recording of ‘The Senses Song’ reached their ears. At that moment, Yakko recognized his cellphone ringtone. “I’ll get it!” He announced as he fished the phone from his pocket and answered the call. “Yello!”

“Hey Yakko,” The voice of a young adult male answered. “It’s me, Skippy!”

“Skippy is that you!?” Yakko exclaimed in shock at hearing an older Skippy Squirrel. “You sound way older since the last time we spoke!”

Wakko and Dot looked at each other with curious glances. The younger Warners pressed their heads against their older brother to get a better listen. Yakko didn’t mind the invasion of personal space as he listened to Skippy.

“Yep, that’s one of the many wonders of puberty.” The squirrel responded in jest. “Listen, I’m sorry for not answering your call earlier. I was out running some errands and Aunt Slappy got into a little scuffle over at the bingo hall.”

“It’s all good,” Yakko casually replied with a wave of his hand.

“So what’s up?” Skippy asked.

“My sibs and I are in a bit of a pickle.” Yakko began, sounding a bit more serious. “Pinky and Brain have been held captive in Acme Labs. We managed to take care of our special friends in lab coats and blue uniforms without any problems, but we need some backup for the next phase of our plan.”

“Go on,” Skippy replied, who was intrigued by the whole situation.

“We’re rescuing Pinky, Brain, and every single laboratory animal and we need you and Slappy to blow up the lab to Kingdom Come!”

Skippy chuckled excitedly. “Oh, Aunt Slappy is gonna love this!”

“Love what?” The elderly squirrel called out in a cranky voice.

Skippy placed a hand over his smartphone and turned toward his geriatric aunt. “The Warners are rescuing Pinky, Brain, and all the other lab animals from Acme Labs and they want us to blow the place up.”

Slappy’s eyes widened with excitement and she deviously rubbed her hands together. “Looks like Happy Hour has arrived early!”

Skippy smiled at his aunt before resuming his phone call with Yakko. “Okay, my aunt’s onboard!”

The Warners hopped up and down in jubilation upon the news of allies accepting their role in the plan.

“So I’ll swing by Acme Labs in my truck and help you and the mice load up the other lab animals,” Skippy explained. “And once we leave, I’ll give Slappy the signal to launch a large-scale assault on the lab.”

“Sounds great!” Yakko affirmed.

“Cool! I’ll arrive at the lab in ten minutes!” Skippy declared.

“See you then!” Yakko said as he hung up his smartphone. He promptly focused his attention on his younger siblings. “Alright sibs, now we’ve got to move fast.” He commanded.

“Right!” Wakko and Dot chorused.

Wanting to put their Great Dane genes to good use, Wakko immediately got down on all fours and sprinted towards the broken-down door. Once he reached the hallway, he sniffed the air for any clues of the mice’s whereabouts.

The middle sibling galloped down the hall until they found a door marking Pinky’s scent, which was a mix of cheesecake and perfume. Wakko pressed their face upon the glass, with Yakko and Dot mimicking their sibling’s actions. The trio saw Pinky, who wore a metal tag on his right ear, prancing about inside a green cage, which sat in the middle of the room.

Relieved that Pinky was safe, Wakko removed their face from the glass. “I’m gonna go find Dadoo and redeem myself while you two will go rescue dad and the rest of the animals!”

Yakko and Dot looked back at their sibling and gave them a hearty salute. “You can count on us, baby sib!” Yakko cheered.

“We believe in you, Wakko!” Dot confidently added.

Grateful for their siblings’ compassion, Wakko nodded back before scampering down the hall on all fours.

Yakko opened up the door, allowing Dot to walk in first. The siblings sprinted down the room, eager to reunite with the lanky mouse.

“Pinky!!!” They exclaimed in unison.

The buck-toothed mouse perked his ears at the youthful calls and was overcome with relief.

“Yakko! Dot!” Pinky exclaimed. Tears began to emerge at the sight of the eldest and youngest Warner siblings.

Yakko opened up the door and immediately scooped Pinky out of the green cage. The lanky mouse embraced the teen’s thumb as tears of joy began to pour down his face. The teen used his left pointer finger to gently stroke Pinky’s back.

“Oh, thank heavens you came!” Pinky cried, relishing the warm sensation of gloved hands. “Where’s Wakko?”

“They’re off saving Brain,” Yakko answered, giving Pinky a much-needed head scritch.

Pinky’s eyes glistened with joy. “Oh goody! Zort! We’re finally safe, and it’s all thanks to your clever idea of tricking all those scientists.”

Yakko chuckled at the mouse’s compliment. “That’s sweet Pinky, but I can’t take all the credit because my baby sister was the one who came up with that brilliant diversion!”

Dot smugly nodded her head, taking in the compliments her older brother showered onto her.

Pinky turned his attention towards the Warner sister with warm blue eyes. “You did all that?” He asked in an astonished tone.

Upon hearing the gentle cockney accent, Dot’s pride melted into humbleness. Pinky possessed an aura of kindness, which was stored in those gleaming cerulean eyes. Much like Dot’s cuteness had a powerful effect on others, Pinky’s gentle spirit seemed to have a similar effect.

The Warner sister could only respond with a barely audible “Uh-huh.”

“Oh, my smart little angel! I am so proud of you and I bet Brain would be too!” Pinky exclaimed as he opened up his hands, wanting to hold his surrogate daughter.

Dot noticed the mouse’s physical pleas and gently took him in her hands. She held Pinky close to her cheek.

“Oh, I missed you so much, sweetie!” Pinky declared as he nuzzled his cheek against hers.

Dot allowed the tears that welled up in her eyes to fall. She wanted to hold Pinky close and never let him go again. “I missed you too, Dad.” She sniffled.

Yakko smiled sweetly at the joyful reunion. He took a step backward to let his sister have her moment with the mouse.

Pinky opened his eyes and noticed that Yakko was a little further back than he was before. He looked back at the eldest Warner and gestured for him to join them. Taking this cue, Yakko closed the gap as he wrapped his arms around his younger sister. He felt his sister’s arms embracing him, as well as a small paw gently patting his shoulder.

He could get used to this.

- - - - - -

Meanwhile, Wakko sniffed around the checkered tiled floors of the hallway until he caught a familiar scent. A combination of lab chemicals, chumsicles, and a hint of cologne that could be purchased at the mall. Standing back up on his feet, the middle Warner sibling opened up the door and entered inside.

After Wakko walked into the room, he slammed the door shut. The sudden sound alerted a short mouse with an unusually large cranium, who had been pacing around the glass cage he was placed in.

Wakko stopped in their tracks as he was overcome with guilt once more. Had they intervened in time, Dadoo and Dad would not have been captured.

Brain stared at the middle child with shocked eyes. He tried in vain to cover the metal tag on his ear with his paw. Part of him felt ashamed of being seen as a lab animal as opposed to an ambitious and determined mouse bent on world domination. But the relief of seeing one of the Warners again overpowered his insecurities surrounding his image.

“Wakko?” The mouse quietly inquired.

“Dadoo!” The middle child called out. Blinking away the tears that started to form, they sprinted towards the cage to rescue their surrogate father.

Overcome with relief, Brain’s ears perked up upon hearing his voice. The mouse turned around and saw the middle child. “Wakko!”

Wakko lifted the lid off of the cage and scooped their hands to retrieve Brain, but his vision became blurred by the tears that stung their eyes. The sight of the toon crying greatly concerned the mouse.

“Wakko, what’s wrong?” Brain inquired cautiously.

“I-It’s my fault that you and Pinky got caught!” Wakko sniffled.

Brain’s eyes widened with confusion. “Wakko?”

“I should have saved you two when I had the chance, then you wouldn’t be stuck here” The middle child cried. “You must hate me…”

The mouse felt a pang of sympathy in his heart for the poor toon. Wakko must have been worried sick about losing him and Pinky. Brain wondered if his parents felt those same emotions as they watched the Acme scientists steal their only child before their very eyes.

During the first few months during his initial captivity at Acme Labs, a young and naive Brain always pondered if his parents thought about him. The mouse often wished his parents would swoop in and rescue him from his cold steel cage and bring him back to the warmth of the tin-can he once called home. But as the days passed, he accepted the stark conclusion that two simple field mice could not stand a chance against the cold-hearted scientists employed by a decently-funded corporate scientific research facility.

As Brain stared at Wakko, he realized that they, along with their siblings, were toons birthed into the world by pencil and paper to be harbingers of chaos. The children were, by design, zany to the max, and were powerful enough to take over the world if they so desired. However, they used their toon powers for good by liberating him and Pinky from the clutches of unethical animal testing. Brain commended Wakko and their siblings for going the distance to rescue him and Pinky. But he could not stand to see Wakko harbor such self-loathing despite their remarkable heroism.

Brain carefully grabbed Wakko’s right thumb and began to caress it in a soothing motion. “Now that’s just preposterous. I could never hate you, Wakko.” He comforted the middle child as best as he could. Emotions were more Pinky’s strong suit, but Brain was going to try his hardest to alleviate Wakko’s woes. “When Pinky and I arrived at the lab, I feared that you and your siblings wouldn’t come for us. Fortunately, you proved me wrong. You and your siblings have saved us, and you have my eternal gratitude.”

Wakko wiped away the tears from their face as they listened to Brain. The mouse did not hate them at all. The mouse loved them a whole lot! Overwhelmed with relief, Wakko gave Brain a great big kiss on his cranium and proceeded to nuzzle their forehead against their Dadoo’s. After processing the loving gesture, Brain carefully wrapped his arms across Wakko’s forehead. He planted a gentle kiss to reassure Wakko that he was grateful for their presence.

After a few moments, they pulled away from the embrace. Wakko looked at the cage and immediately spotted the big slice of swiss cheese. “I didn’t know they had snacks in the lab!” The toon exclaimed as they were about to take the sumptuous cheese.

“Wakko, NO!” Brain shouted instinctively, but the middle Warner sibling easily retrieved the cheese off of the plate. The mouse stood with his mouse gaping. Wakko did not receive any electrical shocks or any other negative reactions. They got what they wanted without any issue.

Wakko was about to eat the slice of cheese when he noticed the distressed expression on Brain’s face. “What’s wrong, Dadoo?”

“What was wrong?” Brain thought to himself. A wave of unpleasant memories flashed through his mind. He could practically feel the electrical shocks from the stunning plate course through his body once more. He instinctively stepped away, clutching his chest with his hand. How could he possibly recount the painful and traumatic memories to this wide-eyed innocent?

Wakko tilted their head to the side, watching Brain step backward with concern. Perhaps Brain was hungry! They didn’t have much time to eat after brunch and Brain looked like he could use a nice snack. So the middle Warner sibling concluded that their Dadoo needed to have some nourishment.

Wakko broke the cheese in half and placed the bigger portion in his right hand. “Here Dadoo, have some cheese!” The toon kindly offered. “After all, sharing is caring.”

Brain stared slack-jawed at the middle child. The mouse stared at the sumptuous cheese that sat on a gloved hand as he felt a war waging inside him. One side yelled at him to back away. The cheese only represented the inevitable pain that would come from pursuing his desires. But upon looking at the soft white glove underneath the cheese, the other side of him gently reminded him of his loved ones and the bonds he forged with them. Brain recounted all of the pleasant memories he and Pinky made with the Warners in the span of one weekend. All of the fun shenanigans by the poolside, singing karaoke, telling stories before bedtime, and playing in the park. Then there were the moments that brought about his parental instincts. Standing up for the Warners when he confronted the gang of hooligans, caring for Dot when she was sick, taking Wakko back to the library so they could retrieve their precious drawing and the down-to-earth conversation with Yakko.

Brain knew that the Warners, while zany and chaotic beings, were good kids at heart and that they would never maliciously go after anyone they cared about. He looked at the cheese in Wakko’s hand and back at Wakko, who gently smiled at him. Brain realized that the child meant no harm and only wanted to help him.

Gulping down his fears, Brain decided to take a leap of faith and go for the cheese. With trembling hands, he cautiously reached out and touched it and felt nothing. No painful electric shocks, no sense of helplessness. Just the soft texture of the cheese.

Brain carefully took his cheese into his paws. Just as he looked up at Wakko, he saw that the toon was about to swallow their portion of the cheese. The mouse widened his eyes in horror as a terrible thought popped up. The scientists wouldn’t provide food during an experiment out of kindness. There had to be some nefarious purpose involved.

“Wakko, wait!” He commanded.

Upon hearing the anxious voice, Wakko looked back at Brian with concern.

“I-I need to make certain that the cheese isn’t laced with any toxic substances.” Brain stammered.

Inspecting the cheese in his hands, Brain sniffed it only to be reminded of its alluring aroma. He then decided to take the next step and perform a taste test. Taking out a small piece of cheese, Brain licked the piece, expecting anything other than the delectable Swiss cheese racing through his taste buds. Noting that the cheese was safe, he consumed the small piece. With each chew, the mouse slowly noticed the tears pooling in his eyes. Brain blinked away the tears, allowing them to stream down his furred cheeks. He stared at the other piece of cheese in his hand, deep in his ponderings. He wished that he could have allowed himself to let his guard down much sooner. But the relief of learning he could place his trust in his loved ones outweighed his regret. Feeling a great sense of peace, Brain gladly consumed the rest of the cheese without a hint of hesitation.

Wakko worriedly stared at Brain, wondering why he was crying over a piece of cheese. The more the middle child thought, the more they realized that maybe the cheese symbolized Pinky.

After all, they were mice and mice did love cheese! But hold on...Did that mean Brain was sad that he ate Pinky? Or did he just simply miss Pinky’s presence? Oh, man. Metaphors were so confusing!

Wakko gently scooped Brain up into their gloved hands and tried their best to comfort the downtrodden mouse. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you back with Pinky in no time!”

Brain stared up at Wakko as they wiped away the stray tears with their right thumb. He knew that the toon child was blissfully unaware of his past trauma concerning his broken trust issues that stemmed from unethical animal testing and how it tied in with the cheese. Perhaps he would inform him when he was ready and willing. But for now, he relished the warm and comforting hold of Wakko’s hands.

“Thank you, dear Wakko,” Brain gently told his surrogate child. “For everything.”

Wakko smiled back at their father figure. “You’re welcome, Dadoo.” They soon remembered the other part of the rescue mission. “Oh! And Yakko told me that we should also free all the other rodents while we’re still here.” Wakko informed the mouse.

Brain smiled. “I admire your unorthodox approach to animal activism.” After a moment of pondering, he needed to address an important issue. “However, I pray that your idea of liberation isn’t just dumping them in a remote jungle.”

“Don’t be silly, Brain!” Wakko replied as they started to carry the mouse out from the lab. “My sibs and I contacted some professionals who’ll take them to a properly-funded animal sanctuary.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Brain sighed.

As Wakko and Brain entered the hallway, they immediately noticed Yakko and Dot running towards them. As the siblings sprinted, Brain noticed that Pinky was riding on Dot’s left shoulder.

When they entered the hallway, Brain and Wakko immediately noticed Yakko and Dot running towards them, with Pinky riding on Dot’s right shoulder.

“Brain!” Pinky called out. Tears flooded his eyes as he gazed at his beau once more.

Brain looked over to see his partner, safe and sound. “Pinky!”

Pinky leaped from Dot’s shoulder and sprinted towards Brain. The smaller mouse opened up his arms as he crashed into the lanky mouse’s loving arms.

“Oh Brain, I missed you so much!” Pinky cried.

“I missed you too, Pinky.” Brain confessed, cupping Pinky’s cheeks with his tiny pink paws. Without a moment to lose, Brain leaned in for a kiss. Pinky wrapped his arms around Brain’s back, pulling him closer.

After moments of sharing a blissful kiss, they parted lips. Catching their breath, Pinky and Brain stared into each others’ eyes. Blue eyes that shined like the ocean gazed upon pink eyes as soft as the cherry blossoms. Feeling the love that radiated from those cerulean orbs, Brain instinctively pressed his large forehead against Pinky’s. Pinky purred a soft ‘Narf’ as he nuzzled his bulbous red nose against Brain’s button nose.

Yakko, Wakko, and Dot looked on, smiling warmly at the tender reunion. However, the rattling of the front door startled the mice and the toon siblings. Yakko stepped forth to protect his family from any potential antagonist that dared to separate them again.

Instead, a tall, brown adult squirrel entered the building. The mice and the Warners paid their undivided attention towards Skippy Squirrel. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. The top of his head was covered with scruffy hair and he was dressed in a white t-shirt covered by a green-and-black flannel shirt.

The squirrel grinned upon seeing the group. “Hey fellas,” Skippy greeted with a friendly wave.

The siblings and the mice were surprised by how deep the squirrel’s voice had gotten over the years. But the shock was soon replaced with joy as the Warners grinned excitedly at their former co-star.

“Skippy!” The Warners exclaimed as they launched themselves onto the squirrel, tackling him in a loving hug.

“Boy, you’re certainly taller than I last remembered.” Yakko complemented.

“And you guys are still the same,” Skippy remarked.

“It’s a long story, but we were in suspended animation for over twenty years,” Yakko explained. Skippy wordlessly nodded. He seemed to understand the situation but refused to press any more questions to avoid stepping over any boundaries.

Pinky sprinted towards the squirrel and hugged his bushy brown tail. “Oh Skippy, I missed you so much! Narf!” The mouse cried. “I haven’t seen you since Brain and I attended your Bar Mitzvah!”

“Oh yeah, that was back in 1999,” Skippy added as he carefully plucked Pinky from his tail, allowing the lanky mouse to relax in the palm of his hand. “Oh, wow, it’s been a while, huh?”

Brain, however, stared in disbelief as he cautiously approached the young adult. “Good heavens, is it you?”

Skippy chuckled, offering the mouse to hop on his hand to keep Pinky company. “Hey Brain, long time no see!”

After embracing the mice, the adult squirrel looked over towards Yakko. “So what’s the scoop?”

“Right, we should proceed onto phase two of our plan.” Yakko addressed with a clap of his hands. “Brain, do you happen to know where all the other lab animals are kept?”

“Yes, there were a few cages of mice in the room I was in.” Brain answered. “And I’m certain that they were all unwilling participants in that half-baked separation experiment. ”

“Poit! And there were some mice in my room, too!” Pinky added concernedly.

“As for the whereabouts of the other animals, they’re held captive in a storage facility located in the second to last door down the right-wing of the lab.” Brain continued, pointing his hand down the hall to direct the others down the correct path.

“What kind of animals?” Dot asked worriedly as she clasped her gloved hands together.

“Rats, hamsters, gerbils, guinea pigs, rabbits, some dogs, a couple of cats, and, if my memory serves correct, a chimpanzee.” Brain listed off.

“Oh wow,” Skippy muttered in shock.

“And do you know the location of the animal sanctuary you plan to take them to?” Brain inquired.

“Oh yeah, a group of animal activists from down under would be taking them there!” Yakko replied. “They took care of the bun infestation a while back, and they’re more than happy to take the lab animals to their government-funded animal sanctuary.”

“I can get them to pick up the animals at Slappy’s place if that’s convenient.” Wakko piped up.

“Go for it.” Skippy approved. “I believe I have enough room on my truck bed to safely transport all the animals to my aunt’s house.”

“Awesome!” Dot cheered.

“Faboo!” Wakko added enthusiastically.

“So how about it, team?” Yakko declared as he placed his hand in the middle. “Let’s go give the other animals a chance at a better life and blow this seedy lab to bits!”

Wakko and Dot eagerly placed their gloved hands over their brother’s. Skippy placed his hand on top of Dot’s. Despite their diminutive size, the mice placed their paws on top while standing on top of Wakko and Dot’s arms.

“Alright Animaniacs, let’s roll!” Yakko exclaimed.

The others responded with a resounding cheer as they raised their hands in the air. While Pinky and Brain were sent flying into the air, they were thankfully caught by Wakko and placed on top of their red cap.

Setting the game plan into motion, the mice and the toons scoured the lab to round up the remaining lab animals. Pinky and Brain used their knowledge of the facility to guide the toons to the specific rooms where the animals were kept.

They plucked the cages and placed them into the wheelie carts. Brain and Pinky noted the confused and anxious responses from the animals. However, he knew that they were being transported to a better place, and they hoped that they would find peace and comfort in the animal sanctuary.

About fifteen minutes later, the gang retrieved all of the lab animals. Dozens upon dozens of cages were loaded onto many carts.

Brain smiled contentedly at the accomplished task when he felt a soft paw tap his shoulder.

“Um, Brain,” Pinky said shyly. “Don’t you think that maybe we should grab our stuff from the cage?”

Brain stared at Pinky for a moment. His partner was always the sentimental one, keeping his belongings in their sardine tin. The pictures of Pharfignewton, the shirt he brought him from Dollywood, the spellchecker-

At that moment, Brain realized that Pinky had a point. “Perhaps we should grab our belongings from our cage.” He sagely agreed.

“Wakko?” Brain asked, alerting the middle child beneath him. “Would you be a dear and take Pinky and me over to the west wing of the lab? We need to grab our things.”

“Of course, Dadoo!” Wakko happily obliged.

Yakko, Dot, and Skippy overheard the conversation and smiled in agreement.

“Alright, you guys go do that while we pack up the animals in the truck,” Skippy announced.

“Will do!” Wakko saluted as he started to skip down the hallway, careful not to drop the two mice he carried on top of his cap.

Not a moment later, the trio stopped at the large green doors at the end of the hallway. Wakko cautiously opened up the door to find an abandoned research room filled with various lab equipment, desks, and chairs. Pinky and Brain gazed at their surroundings as Wakko tiptoed over to the green cage that sat on top of a table.

“Is this your place?” Wakko inquired as he pointed at the empty cage.

“Yes,” Brain answered in a serious tone.

The mice hopped off of Wakko’s hat and trotted over to their soon-to-be-former abode.

Pinky and Brain went inside their cage and looked at their precious sponge bed. The couple approached their special sardine can, which was filled with many precious keepsakes they gathered over the years.

The mice opened the lid, only to discover all of their valuable possessions were just as they left them. The radish rose whachamoozit they acquired after that fateful Halloween. The many caricatures of Brain, which were lovingly illustrated by their son Romy. Pinky’s high school graduation cap. The mouse-sized guitar and black cowboy hat from Brain’s stint as country musician Bubba Bo Bob Brain. Pinky’s precious spellchecker. Finally, Brain found the most important artifact in their humble treasure trove, which was a small globe keychain. The mouse couldn’t help but smile as he held the world in his hands.

Pinky walked away from the sardine can and took in the surroundings of his home. “Poit! I’m going to miss this old place,” He sadly sighed before hugging the exercise wheel.

Brain pondered for a moment before an unusual thought hit him. “I know this is going to sound preposterous, but I don’t see why we couldn’t take our cage as well.”

Pinky gasped, his eyes widening in excitement. “You mean it, Brain?”

“Whatever makes you happy, my dear Pinky.” Brain responded with a chuckle.

Pinky enveloped Brain in a tight hug and spun him around. “Narf! Oh, thank you Brain!”

“Yes, yes, now please put me down before you crush my lungs.” Brain commanded. Pinky sheepishly placed him back on the ground and carefully patted his back.

But the floor started to rumble when Wakko held up the cage. “Alright dads, let’s blow this joint!”

But the classic phrase caused Pinky to wear a stern frown. “No chance, young toon!” He chastised. “Smoking is terrible for your health! I had to help Brain kick his addiction to cigarettes, and I am not going to see you go down that same path!”

“But why would you think I like a disgusting hobby like that?” Wakko asked defensively.

Brain pinched the bridge of his brows. “Pinky, Wakko was not referring to smoking when he said let’s blow this joint. It’s a common phrase people say before they leave an undesired location, much like how we should be leaving this God-forsaken lab!”

Pinky’s frown transformed into a giddy smile. “Oh, well thanks for clearing that up for me, Brain! Troz!”

With the mix-up now resolved, the trio left the room, leaving the second home the mice had come to accept.

After exiting the building, they noticed that the truck was all packed up. Every cage was carefully placed in the truck bed, with elastic wires securing the top shelf. Skippy had closed the driver’s seat door, ready to take everyone to their next location.

Dot alerted her sibling and the mice from the open passenger seat door. “Come on!”

Wakko clutched the cage to their chest and sprinted towards the truck. They hopped in, settling in between their siblings. Dot closed the door, giving Skippy the cue to start the engine.

Pinky and Brain sat comfortably in their cage, as they were surrounded by the toon siblings. The mice were glad that everyone was safe and sound.

Yakko noticed the mice settling some items that were stored in the old tin can. “So what do you have there?” The teen curiously inquired.

“Just some valuable keepsakes.” Brain softly replied.

“Like our son Romy’s wonderful drawing of Brain!” Pinky showed off the picture of Brain dressed up as a traditional circus clown.

“Well, that’s an accurate portrait, if I do say so myself.” Yakko quipped.

Brain raised his brow in frustration, but he couldn’t bring himself to be mad at the teen.

“Oh, Brain!” Pinky alerted him by tapping his shoulder. “Dot was the one who came up with the clever rescue plan!” He praised in a sing-song voice.

The shorter mouse looked over at the Warner sister with a pleasantly surprised smile. “So that genius plan was all your doing?”

Dot perked up at the praise. “Yes, it was.” She answered while flashing a confident smile.

Brain walked up to the other side of the cage and placed his hand through the bars to pat her hand. “I’m incredibly proud of you, Dot.” He said. “If you keep exercising your keen mind, you just might be as intelligent as I am.”

“Or maybe I might be even more intelligent than you are right now.” Dot teased.

Brain’s smile changed into an offended scowl. “Alright young lady, let’s not get cocky here.”

Suddenly, Wakko let out a horrified gasp. “Dadoo, you just said a swear word!”

“Have you no shame? ” Dot added in feigned scorn.

“You star in a children’s show for goodness sake, you have a wholesome image to maintain!” Yakko chided.

Brain let out an exasperated groan as he buried his face into his paws. He could hear Yakko, Wakko, and Dot’s bubbly giggles, no doubt savoring his annoyed reaction. But as his frustration started to simmer, a small smile began to form as he was immensely grateful to be in their presence once more. He would gladly take playful jabs at his pride over inane and cruel experiments any day.

Skippy started up the truck and began to drive off, leaving a visible dust cloud as it zoomed away from the premises. Brain looked at the toon siblings, glad that their weekend had turned out well despite some difficult setbacks. He debated whether or not he should bring up their brief moment of captivity at Acme Labs to the CEO.

Brain’s eyes widened in shock as he remembered one crucial detail he had forgotten about. “Oh, shoot, the credit card!” He anxiously yelled. “I must have left it in the park along with my mechanical suit!”

Pinky immediately rushed over towards his partner’s side, taking his hand and rubbing it in soothing motions. “Now, Brain, it’s not the end of the world.”

“But it’ll be the end of our careers if we don’t return it to her.” Brain moaned.

The Warners sympathetically stared at the mice. “Aw, chin up guys, I’m sure it’s at the park.” Yakko offered. “Hey Skippy, would it be too much trouble if we made a pit stop?”

“No worries,” Skippy assured while keeping his focus on the road.

From the comfort of the cage, Brain inspected the adult Squirrel’s reflection in the rearview mirror. Time was certainly kind to him. He looked to be in shape and relatively healthy for a squirrel his age. Brain then thought about the young man’s aunt. It had been so long since he and Pinky interacted with the geriatric toon veteran. He could easily recount the moment they first met.

- - - - - -

Warner Movie Lot, 1992

Brain tugged Pinky by the wrist as they scurried into the sound stage. He spent the last ten minutes watching Pinky work up the courage to ask Marvin the Martian to sign his scrapbook, his little pet project to document his part-time job on Animaniacs. Luckily, the toon veteran was gracious enough to sign his autograph into Pinky’s special book. Pinky nearly fainted from the act of kindness, but Brain managed to catch his roommate before meeting impact on the ground. The smaller mouse courteously thanked Marvin for the gesture and helped Pinky back up on his feet.

“Pinky, this is the last time your frantic search for autographs interferes with our schedule.” Brain chastised. The mouse knew how much Pinky’s happiness meant to him, but his new job was just as important. The mice were lucky that they landed the job as supporting actors for a promising variety show, and Brain planned to use his newfound celebrity status to sway the masses into submission. The one drawback to his plan was how the writers were steadfast in wanting to portray him as a lovable failure rather than an important authority figure. But the mouse chose not to dwell on this flaw. He could work through the demeaning material if it guaranteed adoration from impressionable viewers.

“Poit! I’m sorry Brain,” Pinky apologized.

The mice made their way onto the stage, joining the large and colorful cast members. Brain let go of Pinky’s wrist to check his wristwatch. It was 11:27 AM. The mouse released a sigh of relief. They arrived right on time.

Brain turned his attention back towards Pinky. “No need to fret, Pinky. At least we made it on time.”

The mice swiftly joined the rest of the cast on the sound stage. They had made their acquaintances with most of the main cast. Pinky became swift friends with practically everyone on the set, and everyone except Pesto returned the affection. Brain was a little more skeptical, though he did express his fondness for Hello Nurse’s brilliant mind.

Just then, the voluptuous intellect, donned in her traditional nurse’s uniform, walked by the mice, but not without a friendly greeting. “Pinky, Brain.” She politely addressed them with a smile.

“Ah, greetings Heloise.” Brain politely replied with a nod.

“Hi, Hello Nurse!” Pinky chirped while waving at her.

Soon afterward, a middle-aged man with black hair sporting a light blue tuxedo approached the sound stage and looked at the various actors. Brain had seen him quite a handful of times on the movie lot. Mr. Director was his name, and he tried to assert his dominance and so-called ‘comedic genius’ wherever he went.

“Alright, look alive people!” Mr. Director commanded in a serious tone. “Since this show is poised to become a comedy smash, I took it upon myself to direct the remaining portions to this show’s opening theme. And with my comedic genius, I will do everything within my power to ensure that this opening will be memorable and, most importantly, fun-”

But the pompous director was interrupted when a trio of toon siblings bounced into the building. Yakko, Wakko, and Dot Warner stepped in time as they bounded near the sound stage. “Boingy! Boingy! Boingy!” They chorused.

The siblings then leaped onto Mr. Director, who started to panic as the zany children demolished his boundaries.

“Hey there, sweetheart!” Yakko teased with a sly smile before giving him a comedic smooch on the cheek.

But Mr. Director was not having any of it. “Enough with the kissing, and the hugging, and the teasing!” He whined in an obnoxious, nasally voice.

The toons wordlessly hopped off of him and made their way to the set. As they scanned the wide and colorful cast, they immediately set their sights on the rodent duo they recently befriended. The children bounded over towards Pinky and Brain and dug their heels into the ground as they screeched to a grinding halt.

“Hi!!!” The Warners greeted the mice.

“Hello, children!” Pinky exclaimed with a wave.

“‘Sup?” Brain muttered sardonically as he dug his hand into his fur pocket.

“Thanks for taking us to McDonald’s the other day,” Wakko mentioned as he pulled out his little toy truck from his hammerspace. “Now I get to play with my Happy Meal Toy all day long!”

Mr. Director quickly took attendance of all the cast members to be featured in the grand finale. He then gave a sharp whistle, alerting everyone in the room.

“Alright, almost everyone is here. But the only two people missing are Slappy and Skippy Squirrel.”

“Present!” A rough voice barked.

Everyone turned to see a grey squirrel with a green cap guiding a younger brown squirrel into the sound stage. The elderly squirrel wore a sour frown as she led her nephew to the sound stage.

But Mr. Director stopped the squirrels. “And where have you been?”

“Stuck in traffic.” The geriatric squirrel spat.

“Sorry, sir,” The younger squirrel mentioned. “My aunt Slappy is a bit cranky.”

“Cranky? I need you to be funny!” Mr. Director chastised. “And on top of that, I can’t work with toons who don’t show up on time or aren’t funny!”

But the director felt the blunt force of the squirrel’s green purse as it hammered his head, causing him to shout “Flauvein!” in his nasal tone.

Slappy grinned as she turned her attention to her impressionable nephew. “Now you see, Skippy, you should always take a purse with you whenever you leave the house.” She advised while she opened up her green bag. “That way, you can easily carry your most valued possessions around wherever you go. Such as your money, your car keys, and your heavy cinder block!”

Skippy quickly took out his crayon and notebook from his hammerspace, flipping through the pages until he reached a blank page, which happened to be the second to last page. As the squirrel jotted down the important lesson, he was unaware that his sage aunt was observing her pupil writing down her advice.

Slappy looked over her nephew’s shoulder and was quite impressed with the nearly full notebook. “You got a lot of notes there, huh kiddo?”

“Well, I do have a good teacher!” Skippy complimented with a smile. Slappy let out a small snort before playfully ruffling Skippy’s hair.

Once he gathered his bearings, Mr. Director proceeded to get the shoot over and done with before he received any more comical amounts of pain. “Alright, places people!” He shouted in his nasal voice.

The mice tried to find their place. Brain knew that the Warners were supposed to take center stage since they were the main stars. The smaller mouse scanned the area for possible spots for Pinky and himself. He settled on standing behind Wakko and ahead of the two squirrels. He tugged Pinky to the desired spot and waited for the director to give out their cue.

“And action!” Mr. Director commanded.

Pinky and Brain followed their cues as they raised their arms in the air alongside their co-workers.

“We’re Animaney! Totally Insane-”

“Cut!” The director yelled. He stood up from his director’s chair and began to chastise the many actors. “Wakko, stop sticking your tongue out! Hippos, you need to switch places with Ralph and Chicken Boo. Goodfeathers, I need more feeling from you three! And where on earth are Pinky and The Brain?”

The other cast members murmured amongst themselves as they did what they were told. Many of them scanned around the room in the hopes of finding their diminutive co-stars.

Brain let out an exasperated sigh. It was moments like this that he wished he was of human stature. Pinky looked over to his frustrated roommate and softly patted his head.

Unbeknownst to the mice, Slappy looked down to find the pair of white mice standing in front of her. The elderly squirrel let out a groan as she bent down. She scooped up the two mice in her hands and lifted them for all to see.

“Found ‘em!” She gruffly called out.

The squirrel stared at the two white mice in her hands. The tall lanky one gazed in shock with his big blue eyes. The smaller, and much chubbier, mouse crossed his arms and furrowed his brows as he gave a menacing stare with his pink eyes.

Despite Brain’s serious demeanor, Slappy couldn’t help but smirk at the adorable display. “You’re not a morning person either, I take it?” She humored.

“No, I’m afraid not.” Brain replied. “And I greatly dislike being touched without permission.”

The squirrel was admittedly surprised by how such a small mouse could have a deep voice. But she could sympathize with his complaints. “Well, that makes two of us.”

Pinky, on the other hand, was trying his hardest to contain his excitement. One of the Looney Tunes was holding him and Brain in her hands!

Slappy noticed Pinky’s heavy breathing and tilted her head in mild concern. “Are you okay?”

“No, I’m Pinky!” He blurted out.

Brain rubbed his temples as he felt the wave of secondhand embarrassment course through him.

But Mr. Director noticed the way the squirrel held the mice and was immediately inspired.

“That’s perfect!” He bellowed from the director’s chair, catching everyone’s attention. “Slappy, keep holding the mice just like so! Not only will the mice be visible to the viewers, but it greatly symbolizes the passing of the torch, with you, the elderly toon, raising the eager newcomers! Oh, I am such a genius!”

Slappy and Brain looked at each other with incredulous expressions. This pretentious director was trying to find meaning in every pose. But Pinky did not seem to mind.

Fortunately, the rest of the filming went off without issue, as the mice followed their cues along with the rest of the cast. Pinky couldn’t shake off the excitement of being held by one of his favorite cartoon stars. Brain, on the other hand, secretly liked being lifted in a way that showcased his importance.

Once filming wrapped, Slappy placed the mice back on the ground, but not without feeling a shot of pain course through her hip.

“Are you alright?” Pinky asked worriedly.

“Eh, it’s nothin’ to worry about.” The elderly squirrel dismissed.

Pinky suddenly became nervous again. He wanted to ask the squirrel to sign his scrapbook, but he was afraid of getting rejected.

Brain noticed Pinky’s apprehension and deduced that it had something to do with obtaining another autograph in his precious scrapbook. So he decided to motivate his friend to gather his courage the best way he knew how.

“Oh, just ask her already!” Brain barked with an annoyed frown.

Pinky obeyed Brain’s command and decided to take a leap of faith. “Poit! Oh, um, Slappy? May I please have your autograph for my scrapbook?” He shyly asked.

Slappy cocked her brow up in interest but decided to oblige the humble request. “Yeah, sure.” She replied while taking out a pen from her purse. “It’s been a while since anyone asked, but I aim to please my fans.”

Pinky smiled as he handed her his scrapbook. Slappy opened up the book and flipped through the pages. Skippy peered over her shoulder, wanting to take a gander at the scrapbook. The first page featured a colored photograph of the mice standing in a meeting room posing with the show’s executive producer. She flipped through the pages to find snapshots of the mice working on set, pictures of their co-stars, and various crew members. The latter half of the scrapbook was filled with autographs from various Looney Tunes and Hanna Barbera stars. She found a blank page and decided to write her name in big bold letters.

Pinky also noted Skippy’s interest and thought up a fun-fun, silly-willy idea. “Oh, you can also sign my scrapbook too if you’d like! Troz!”

Skippy was stunned. Someone wanted to have his autograph?! Even though he was young, he was aware of his aunt’s legacy in show business and had some doubts that he might never live up to her expectations. But with the humble request of his co-star, he began to feel hopeful that he might be seen as an equal.

Slappy happily handed the scrapbook and pen to her nephew. “Go at it, Skippy!”

Skippy signed his name underneath his aunt’s signature before passing the book back to the jolly mouse.

“Wow, my very first fan…” Skippy exhaled.

“Try not to let the fame get to your head, kiddo.” Slappy teased as she patted his head.

“Oh, thank you so much!” Pinky said excitedly, hugging the scrapbook close to his chest.

Slappy looked at the two mice and smiled. Feeling less cranky than she was when she arrived at the studio, she decided that it would be best to get to know her co-workers more. “Why don’t you two come with us,” The squirrel offered. “Speedy Gonzalez is supposed to be joining me for lunch, and I think he would get a kick out of meeting some up-and-coming rodent toons.”

Brain then felt the need to correct the misinformed toon veteran. “Actually, Pinky and I are genetically altered lab mice who were mistaken to be toons by the studio executives and only accepted this job so we could take over the world by gaining the love and adoration of the impressionable children and their parents.”

Slappy stared at the mice with incredulous eyes. While the mice appeared to be quite animated, she could buy that they were, in fact, actual lab mice. She also noted that he was equally honest about his acting career. “So you’re serious about getting into the business?” She questioned. The Brain stared at her as she did not immediately dismiss his claim in jest, but gave her an affirmative nod to her inquiry.

“You got a lot of gumption, I’ll give ya that,” Slappy said in earnest. “But I’ll show ya the ropes if you really wanna stand out.”

“But I already have jump ropes back at the lab,” Pinky explained. Brain shook his head at his roommate’s inane response and swiftly bopped him on top of his head. Pinky guffawed as he saw the colorful stars swirl around his head.

Skippy laughed at the mice’s antics. The bubbly giggle reached Slappy’s ears and she promptly looked over at her nephew. While Skippy was an impressionable kid, he was particularly picky when it came to entertainment. She learned the hard way that classic animated tearjerkers were a big no-no unless she wanted to sacrifice most of her bank account to pay for his therapy sessions. And it was hard to find a decent cartoon nowadays that wasn’t based on a preexisting IP or a shameless thirty-minute toy commercial. But clearly, these two rodents seemed to have as much chemistry as Laurel and Hardy.

Slappy looked over at her nephew once more before turning back to the mice. The elderly toon let out an amused snort. “You two have comedic potential.”

As the rodents were about to leave the set, they heard an audible cough coming from Mr. Director. The pretentious filmmaker stopped the group in their tracks. He was not ready to let them leave so soon. “Now, may I have a word with Pinky?”

“Only if they have a vowel,” Pinky replied with a serious nod.

“Great! Now Pinky, sweetheart, your performance was swell, but we need to improve your overall image.” The director critiqued. “Now you’re a funny little guy, but you’re not funny ‘ha-ha’, but funny ‘ho-ho’, and the reason you’re not funny ‘ha-ha’ is because of your buck teeth. No one wants to watch a cartoon character with buck teeth. A cartoon character with big feet, absolutely! But not with buck teeth, oh no. Fortunately, I know a handful of dentists who would love to fix your teeth, for a reasonable price of course.”

Pinky’s happy grin slowly transformed into a dismayed frown as he took in the criticisms the director hurled at him. He pressed his fingers against his overbite with concern, unaware of the fact that Skippy was also starting to feel insecure about his front teeth. Was he not a pretty mouse?

“Do you mean to say that I’m….ugly?” Pinky sadly asked, trying his best to fight back the oncoming tears.

“Well, objectively speaking, yes.” Mr. Director replied flatly.

Pinky whimpered as the tears flowed down his face. While he knew that ugly people can be beautiful in their own way, it still hurt to be on the receiving end of such mean words. Screwing his eyes shut, he clutched his tail as he started to cry his heart out.

Brain felt his heart go out to poor Pinky. But then his flaming fury began to take hold. Brain balled his paws into fists as he growled at the superficial filmmaker. No one, not even himself, could insult Pinky’s outward appearance.

“How dare you make my friend cry, you hack!” Brain snapped at the director. “Pinky is a beautiful and charming-looking soul, both on the inside and on the outside, and I do not take kindly to anyone who dares to mock his appearance! Especially from Jerry Lewis look-alikes!”

Mr. Director gasped in shock. “No you listen here, you son of a-”

But Slappy silently intervened, swinging around her green purse while wearing an indignant frown.

“Or maybe, let’s not with the hitting, and the smashing of the head with the purse.” He drawled in his nasal voice as he cowered away to the side.

“Well, if you insist.” Slappy cooly replied before hitting the director’s gut with her purse. The director let out a cry of pain as he clutched his stomach and fell to his knees.

Slappy smirked as she placed the purse across her shoulder, glad to have pushed the director off of his high horse. She looked over at her new companions, as Pinky scooped Brain up into a tight hug.

“Oh thank you, Brain!” Pinky cheered.

Brain instinctively kicked his tiny feet as his taller friend nuzzled his cheek. “You’re welcome Pinky,” He replied as he tried his hardest to keep his composure. “Now please put me down.”

Pinky immediately respected Brain’s wishes and carefully placed him back on the ground.

Much to Slappy’s surprise, Skippy stepped forward to speak to the mice. “Pinky, I think you look fine just the way you are!”

Pinky blushed lightly at the compliment. “Zort! Oh, you’re far too kind!”

“And Brain, you did a very good thing by standing up to that jerk.” Skippy praised. “Pinky must be lucky to have a nice friend like you.” ”

Brain felt himself smiling at the sincere compliment. But the smile vanished when he remembered that he had a serious image to maintain. “I am many things, the young squirrel,” Brain addressed, but his mind started to blank. “whose name I do not know at the moment.”

“Skippy!” The young squirrel happily responded.

“Right.” Brain agreed. “I am many things, Skippy Squirrel. A mouse of superior intellect, a future world leader, and an up and coming rhythmic gymnastics athlete.” He listed off his attributes with his fingers. “But with that said, I am not nice.”

“Oh, yes you are, Brain!” Pinky playfully teased as he squished his friend’s chubby cheeks.

Brain merely crossed his arms and shot an indignant glare. “Cease your prodding, Pinky, or I shall have to hurt you!” He bitterly commanded, and the taller mouse sheepishly hid his hands behind his back.

“Now that’s comedy!” Slappy chuckled at their antics. She could easily find herself watching a whole sitcom starring these two goobers. While the mice didn’t seem to be the ‘bomb-and-anvil’ types (the superior school of comedy in her book), they more than made up for it with their humorous banter and contrasting personalities.

The shorter mouse then turned his attention to the geriatric squirrel. “Of course, your aunt did most of the heavy lifting, so to speak, by standing up for us. And, as I’m loath to admit it, I am in your debt.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it.” Slappy dismissed as she waved her hand down. “So are you two comin’ to lunch with us or what?”

“Count me in!” Pinky cheered.

“Yes.” Brain agreed.

Skippy knelt on one knee and extended an open hand in front of the mice. “Can I pick you up?” he asked.

“I don’t see why not.” Brain allowed, deducing that they would reach the commissary faster by hitching a ride on the young squirrel as opposed to walking on foot.

“Oh, goodie! We’re going on a ride! Narf!” Pinky exclaimed as the younger squirrel lifted him and his best friend off the ground.

Slappy smiled at her shorter co-stars as the group started on their merry way. “I have the feelin’ that this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”

- - - - - -

The truck came to a stop, bringing Brain back to the present. Picking up a small bent paper clip, he trotted over towards the cage door and picked the lock. As he swung the door open, Wakko turned the cage around and allowed the mice to hop into his hands before placing them on top of his hat. The rodents stared out the window to see the sun dipping low over the park. As the Warners and the mice hopped out of the car, Skippy quickly paid the parking meter before joining the group.

“Poit! Hey Brain, do you think it would be best if we released the mice here?” Pinky asked as he wrung his paws together.

Brain took a moment to think about it and realized that Pinky had a point. He remembered seeing the frightened expressions of the field mice as they were ripped apart from their home in the wild. It would only be fair to return them to their home.

“You’re right, Pinky.” Brain commended his partner, gently taking his paw into his own.

The toons overheard the conversation and were quick to act. “We’re way ahead of you!” Yakko affirmed as he started to unload the truck bed.

“Now, the only thing I need to do is find the suit.” Brain mentioned.

“It’s over there, Dadoo!” Wakko alerted, pointing a finger over towards a largely abandoned suit in the middle of the park.

“I can help free the others while you go fetch your giant suit! Narf!” Pinky told him before hopping off Wakko’s hat and falling to the grass.

“I’ll help you get it!” Wakko declared as he broke out into a sprint. Brain steadied himself in the middle sibling’s hold as he ran across the field.

Yakko, Dot, and Skippy retrieved all the cages that housed the various mice. Pinky stared at his fellow rodents. He recognized some from the various experiments, from the maze runs to the makeup tests. The other mice started to claw anxiously at the glass upon recognizing their domain. Pinky hoped that the mice that were captured earlier could be reunited with their families while his familiar companions could find better lives with their fellow rodents in the field.

“Let the mice run free!” Pinky declared.

The toons and the squirrel opened up the lids and placed the cages sideways, allowing the mice to escape. Pinky smiled as he watched the mice scatter across the field, many of which were getting reacquainted with the softness of the green grass. Many of the former lab residents instinctively followed the field mice. Pinky blinked away the tears of joy that formed. He prayed that the mice would have happier days ahead of them.

Meanwhile, Wakko managed to reach the suit without any issue. Brain was thankful that the suit was right where he left it.

Wakko lowered their hands to the ground to let Brain down. The mouse hopped off and ran towards the right side of the suit, noticing the wallet was still snug within the pant pocket. Brain was relieved that no one had pilfered the suit for any valuables. The mouse reached into the pocket and used every ounce of his strength to retrieve the wallet. Pinky sprinted towards his beau’s side and helped him pull the wallet out. With a tug, the mice successfully fished out the wallet, which opened up. Brain looked to see the familiar glow of the company credit card and breathed a sigh of relief. He no longer had to fear the CEO’s wrath.

At that moment, Yakko, Dot, and Skippy reunited with the group as Dot carried Pinky on top of her head. The golden light coming from the wallet indicated that the card was still there and the mice no longer had to worry about losing their acting jobs.

Brain decided to check the engines to make sure that the suit was still fully functional. Opening up the right shoe, he entered the metallic footwear, climbed up the leg, and hopped in the pilot’s seat. Pinky hopped off of Dot, anxiously waiting for Brain’s giant head to pop up at the top. Meanwhile, Brain pulled the lever and the seat rose to the very top.

The others looked at the head hole with bated breath until Brain’s large cranium popped out.

“Honey, I’m home!” Brain drawled in a near-monotone voice.

While Brain moved the suit back on its feet, Pinky clutched his stomach as he laughed. “Oh, that’s a funny joke, Brain! Narf!”

“I’m not devoid of humor.” Brain replied as he picked Pinky up and placed him in the front pocket.

The Warners reached into their hammerspaces and pulled out their bingo cards, which were filled with various callbacks from the original Animaniacs. Yakko quickly placed a stamp over the ‘References to Win Big’ block. “Bingo!” The eldest Warner shouted as he proudly waved his bingo sheet, causing Wakko and Dot to groan in defeat.

Skippy pulled out his smartphone and decided to move forward with the final phase of the plan. He went to his contacts to search for his aunt’s name. Once he found her name, he pressed the green call button and pressed the phone to the side of his head.

After a moment, he heard his aunt’s cantankerous voice. “Hello,”

“Hey Aunt Slappy,” Skippy casually replied. “Just wanna give you the heads up that the lab is now abandoned and everyone’s safe. The ball is in your court now.”

“Lemme tell ya, it’s great to be back in business!” Slappy remarked from inside her secret hideout. The geriatric rodent reclined in her seat as she operated the control panel, no doubt eager for the signal to open fire on the lab.

“Right now we’re at the park getting Brain’s mechanical human suit,” Skippy informed her. “We’ll be back in about five minutes or so.”

“Say, why don’t you kids stay at the park for a few more minutes?” Slappy asked as she geared up the missiles from her control panel. “I’ll make sure to give you kids a little fireworks show as a treat!”

“Sounds like fun.” Skippy chirped. “And you can fire when ready.”

“Oh I’m always ready,” Slappy confidently announced before ending the phone call.

Skippy put his phone away and turned around to face the others. “My aunt’s gonna put on a little fireworks show.” He mentioned.

“Ooh, fireworks!” Pinky exclaimed.

Wakko eagerly climbed up the suit and perched himself on top of Brain’s shoulders. “And I get to have the best seat in the house!”

“No fair! You got to sit on top of him last time!” Dot argued as she climbed up the suit. “Daddy, tell Wakko to move!”

“Now cease your squabbling, children!” Brain commanded. “You can both sit on my shoulders as long as you two apologize.”

Dot took the big-headed mouse’s words to heart. “Wakko, I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“And I’m sorry for hogging the seat,” Wakko replied.

“Aww, it’s so nice to see you kids get along.” Pinky cooed as he felt Yakko pluck him from the suit pocket.

Suddenly, a wave of missiles flew over their heads and proceeded to descend towards the infamous laboratory that sat underneath the suspension bridge. Within seconds, a loud explosion could be heard from miles away as the laboratory was reduced to rubble.

Suddenly, a few fireworks launched into the air, decorating the sky with glittering colored lights.

Skippy held out his smartphone, filming the whole spectacle to show to his aunt later.

Wakko and Dot cheered at the sparkling display, and Brain couldn’t help but smile at the two toon children perched on his shoulders. He looked past Wakko to see Pinky contently sitting in Yakko’s hands, and watching the colored lights reflected from his soft blue eyes.

Yakko let out a peaceful sigh. After pulling off a daring rescue, it was nice to be reunited with his loved ones once more. And the surprise fireworks show was a nice way to cap off an eventful day. He looked up at his siblings, happy to see them have the time of their lives and fawning over Brain. Yakko took another glance at Pinky. To his surprise, the mouse looked up at Yakko and gave him a friendly smile. There was so much affection stored in Pinky’s face that it would be a crime not to smile back.

“Are you enjoying the pretty fireworks, love?” Pinky asked the teen.

“Oh absolutely!” Yakko replied with a smile.

Pinky eagerly clapped his paws together. “Zort! Well, it makes me happy that you’re happy!”

With that, the lanky mouse smiled at the toon once more before turning his attention back to the bright lights that decorated the night sky.

“I could get used to this,” Yakko thought to himself.

Brain continued to admire the fireworks when he heard a small metallic sound coming from his side. He peered over his shoulder to find Yakko resting his head against the mechanical suit’s chest. The wholesome sight humbled Brain. Yakko had been forced to be the parental figure for his younger siblings for far too long, so it was nice to see him act like a regular kid. But it deeply moved Brain to learn that Yakko now trusted him and Pinky to be his parental figures.

So Brain decided it was best to return the affection. With deft hands, he swiftly moved the lever to guide the right hand on top of Yakko’s head and proceeded to gently ruffle his hair.

They all watched the night sky as one last firework exploded, showering the dark canvas with glittering green lights. The sparkling lights spelled out the phrase “Now That’s Comedy!”

The Warners clapped at the fireworks display. Brain looked over at Pinky, who was in awe of the dazzling green lights. He looked over at the fireworks and let out a small chuckle. “The old dame’s still got it.”

Hello!

Firstly, I want to apologize for not updating this story sooner. I have had a lot of things going on in my personal life, one of which is a passion project I am excited to share with you all. I and my friend Mitchekie have put together an unofficial Pinky and The Brain podcast called Poitcast, which is set to premiere in July. We've already recorded two episodes and it's been a wonderful labor of love and I hope that you can take the time to listen to the pilot episode when it drops.

The main reason why this chapter took much longer to write because I wanted to come up with a creative idea for the rescue mission. After some brainstorming, I decided to incorporate Slappy and Skippy into the story. Both characters were a lot of fun to write for and they'll appear again in the next chapter.

Fortunately, there are only two chapters left and they are significantly shorter. The next chapter is halfway done and the last chapter is a brief epilogue, so the hiatuses will not be as long.

I want to thank Mitchekie for beta-reading this chapter.

And finally, I want to thank you, dear reader, for sticking with this story and being patient in between chapters. I love writing this story and I am glad that this story has received a lot of love.

Please leave a kudos or a review if you can! Thanks for reading!

#animaniacs #pinky and the brain #patb #brain #pinky #yakko warner #wakko warner #dot warner #slappy squirrel #skippy squirrel

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