#i May have switched their names by accident. oh well!

[lxclerc]

𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 | 𝐜𝐥𝟏𝟔

SUMMARY: in which your secret relationship with charles leclerc comes to light all because of a shirt. REQUEST: here PAIRING: verstappen!sister x charles leclerc WARNING: none. fluff. maybe some slight threats of bodily harm but it’s all in good fun. probably badly translated french and dutch.

masterlist

The first time you met Charles was an accident. You were drunk and you’ve lost your brother in the sea of people, shivering from the cold air of the outdoor after party, your dress definitely far too short and far too revealing for the european winds. 

You’re gripping a drink in your hand, attempting to hold it properly in your incoherent state as your eyes search the sea of people for Max. in your confusion and alcohol ridden state, you hadn’t noticed the chest in front of you, barreling towards it. Thankfully, unlike the cliche, your drink hadn’t spilled on his shirt but rather just the floor but as you faced him, white dress shirt covering his toned body, you almost wished it had spilled on him just to give you a reason to suggest taking his shirt off. 

“Het spijt me zo,” you said immediately, not even realizing that you’ve switched to your mother tongue in your drunken state. I’m so sorry.

The man before you stared at you for a few seconds, his brain trying to register the words. He too has had a few drinks though definitely not as drunk as you and he wonders if you’re speaking another language and talking gibberish. “Huh?”

Your cheeks colored red. “Oh um. I said I’m sorry.” There’s a slight accent to your words, similar to Max’s but a little thicker.

His face lit up as he smiled. “Oh, it’s okay. Are you alright?”

You noticed his very evident french accent, making you want to groan. You’ve never considered accents attractive till you heard him talk. But you’re sure he’s a driver because you’ve seen his face around before but with the alcohol flowing through your body, you can’t seem to recall his name. 

“Yes,” you say, voice slurring a little. “I’m looking for my brother. Do you happen to know where Max is?” 

“Oh, um…” he looked around, trying to spot the red bull driver to know avail. “Last I saw him, he was with his girlfriend. I think they may have left.”

It’s ridiculous you think. The party is for Max and his newest win and yet somehow he’s missing it. You rolled your eyes. Typical of him to forget all about you. “I’m going to kill him.”

“I can take you to your hotel if you want,” he offered. 

“You’re a driver,” you accused, eyes narrowed. “You probably shouldn’t be drinking and driving.” 

The man before you laughed and you tried not to stare at the way his smile lit up his face. You almost think it’s illegal for that kind of attractive to be walking around like nothing. “The hotel is walking distance from here, love.” 

Oh. Right. You’d also walked on your way here earlier with Max and Kelly. Even from where you stand now, you can see the outline of the fancy building. “Well then I accept your offer.” 

“Let me just say bye to my friends.” He smiles at you again and you resist telling him not to because his smile makes you feel tingles all over your body. 

You nod, following him to their table where you saw the other F1 drivers standing around, some you recognized, some not but if you had been sober, you’d probably be able to recite all of their names. 

“Mate,” he calls to one. You recognize him as Pierre Gasly only because a friend of yours from back home insists he’s the most attractive driver. “Je retourne à l'hôtel. Je vous verrai demain.” I’m heading back to the hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow.

You chew on your bottom lip. Speaking French has never sounded hotter than it did now. 

Pierre Gasly looked at you, giving you a smile before turning back to his friend and saying something to which the man you were with rolled his eyes at before turning back to you, his easy going smile plastered on his face. 

“I’m Charles, by the way,” he tells you once you’re away from the noisy crowd. 

Your relationship with Charles was almost instantaneous, the connection between the two of you coming out of nowhere. He asked you out the next day of your second meeting, with you recruiting Kelly to distract Max for the night so you can leave and him taking you to a fancy dinner where he made corny pick up lines that had you giggling over the champagne. 

The first time he kissed you, it was on a dock in Monaco, his lips softly touching yours till you muttered kiss me properly and pulled as his shirt, making Charles grin in the kiss as he felt you closer to his body. The first time you said I love you, it was under the blanket with a hoarse voice, trying to hide the fact that you’re terrified he might not say it back.

The next day after that, he said I love you ten more times. He said it as a hello, over a cup of tea, on a sunny monday morning with the sunlight glowing on his hair, as a thank you, as an apology when he accidentally got your order wrong, as a good morning, with a shuddering gasp, in a text, a whisper in your ear as they passed by each other and loud in the hotel room with feats of giggles.

You often bicker back and forth with you resulting back to dutch and him to French till everyone is staring at the two of you and you are laughing, already forgetting what it was you were arguing about. But whereas you both absolutely loved to talk, sharing the smallest details of your day over calls and facetimes, you also enjoyed the silence. You enjoyed just sitting on his couch as you read a book and he watches the TV or plays the piano, not speaking a word. 

But you kept it a secret. At first, it was because you were still getting to know each other, wanting to be sure before you let anyone know and wanting to reduce awkward encounters in case it didn’t work out. And then it became something sacred that you selfishly wanted to keep to yourself. You liked the thrill of sneaking into each other's hotel rooms and flying city to city. You loved hushed voices during calls and seeing everyone ask him if he’s single and him answering no then wink at the camera. 

Apart from that, you know your brother. You know he can be quick tempered and extreme, oftentimes overprotective as he believes it’s his duty as your older brother to look out for you. You know he’d make a bigger deal out of it than it should be and you’d really rather not have to deal with that. 

The first two days before summer break and mid season, some of the drivers decided to go on a much needed joint ski holiday, renting out a massive cabin. It would only be for two days for the rest of them but you and Charles had already booked it for another week, telling Max some lie about meeting your friend in London or something of the sorts. 

The drivers, consisting of Charles, Max, Daniel, Pierre, Carlos and George along with their girlfriends. Max hadn’t even wanted to come but you insisted under the false pretense of needing to bond with his ‘coworkers’. Thankfully, Kelly, your lord and savior at this point, more than happily backed you up. 

And so here you were, tangled up in Charles’ room as the sunlight tickled in, the covers tightly wrapped around the mess of limbs the two of you had become. From downstairs, you can hear some of the others already talking among themselves, making you groan as you check at the clock. In your opinion, seven in the morning is far too early for the entire cabin to already be awake.

“How are they already up?” You complained, pressing your cold feet against his leg, making Charles let out a small gasp from the sudden chill it brought. 

“Most of them probably trained,” he muttered, his arms around your waist pulling you closer to his chest. “Retournons nous coucher, ma chérie.” Let’s go back to bed, darling. 

“Still can’t speak French, love, but I need to go back to my own room before Max comes barging in.”

“Let him.”

You smiled at his sleepy state, gently pushing his hair back. “As fun as that would be, I’d rather not he see me naked in your bed.”

A lazy grin pulled at his lips. “I think it’s a rather beautiful sight, do you not?” 

“For you perhaps but I'm not in the business of traumatizing my brother.” You work to pull yourself out of his embrace, laughing as he groans. Grabbing the first shirt you find on the floor and your pajamas from the night before, you kiss him with a promise of seeing him later before sneaking out of his room.

You ran your hand through your hair, not bothering to go to your own room and instead choosing to have coffee first before breakfast. There you find Max, Daniel, Pierre and Carlos in their workout clothes dripping with sweat. Kelly and Isabel, Carlos’ girlfriend, are also there, still in their pajamas much like you are. 

“Morning,” you greet, grabbing a cup of coffee as you take your place with the two women. “How are you guys up at this hour?”

“That’s what I’m saying,” Isa mutters, complaining along. “We could all still be happily sleeping right now.”

“Is that your shirt?” Max asks, breaking the conversation as he eyed the oversize white shirt you wore, some french artist printed on it. 

“It looks familiar, no?” Pierre adds, eyeing your shirt as well as he tries to remember when he had last seen it. 

You try not to choke on your coffee as you swallow. “Oh, um…yeah, it’s my shirt. Found it in a thrift store in Monaco.” You’re quite proud of your quick thinking and spontaneous lie till Carlos spoke up.

“Really? I think I saw Charles wearing–” 

At that exact moment, Charles entered the kitchen, completely shirtless. “Hey guys, did you see my lucky shirt? I think I left it here while watching a movie last night—”

He trailed off as he noticed everyone staring at him, your red face hidden behind a glass of coffee, his shirt proudly hanging off your body. The others were quick to piece it together, bursting out laughing. 

“Think we figured it out, mate,” Carlos teases, placing a hand on Max’s shoulder. But your brother seems to be at a loss for words. 

“Did you guys only figure it out now?” Daniel asked them incredulously. “Found them making out in a hotel hallway in Bahrain.” 

“Leclerc,” your brother finally speaks up, glaring at Charles. “You have ten.”

Charles turned to you in question but you only shrugged. “Ten what, mate?” 

“...nine, eight, seven…”

“Babe,” you call, unable to stop the grin pulling at your lips at the sudden panic in Charles’ face. “I think it’s time to run.” 

“...six, five…”

Charles stared at Max for half a second as if asking him if he’s serious but when Max doesn’t stop, he decides it’s time to dash for his life. 

“Mate, mate!” He screams as Max follows him, causing another round of laughter to erupt. “Let’s talk about this!” 

“My sister?! Really?! How long has this been going on?"

From your seat next to the girls, you calmly drank your coffee. "About sixteen months."

Max's jaw fell, his face seemingly getting angrier. "Sixteen months?! Leclerc, you little piece of shit!"

"Oh trust me, there's definitely nothing little about him."

As the other drivers once again burst out laughing, Max and Charles froze on their spots, Max looking as though he wants to throw up and Charles staring at you in disbelief.

"Y/N!" He screamed. "Do you want me to die?!"

"Leclerc, you better hope I don't catch you or else zal ik je vermoorden in koude bloede." I will murder you in cold blood.

#charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagines #max verstappen fluff #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x you #f1 imagine

[blueywrites]

Where you and Steve swing with Eddie and Chrissy, and it gets complicated.

TO KNOW YOU'RE MINE (modern!swingers!au) (18+ only)

eddie munson x chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x you

fem!reader, chubby!reader, minimal use of y/n, body insecurity, swingers, mutual pining

chapter six: hey girl (18k) | playlist | AO3 | next

🎵 in this au, deftones=corroded coffin. the playlist is a combination of R's sad girl music vibes and some foreshadowing. the song for this chapter is #17-#23. All songs are mentioned by name with the exception of the last song, which is Gato de Noche. The Spanish lyrics mentioned in the text may hold some significance.

Wrapped up in her again

I was starting to spin

A record I can't pause

Hey Girl — Stephen Sanchez

You click in your lap belt, eyes fixed unblinkingly on the screen of your Switch balanced on your thighs. Your villager is seated on a mushroom log, her little head bobbing as she waits for you. She has many choices for how she can occupy her day. Perhaps you'll have her fish in the pond near her log cabin. Or maybe she'll start by checking out Tom Nook's shop for the daily selection of new furniture. You know for sure she'll be visiting her neighbors to see what new recipe she can learn to craft today.

Yes, your little Animal Crossing girl is waiting for you, and you try to focus on only that as the rumble beneath you intensifies, and the engine's roar turns nearly deafening. You don't look around the cabin, and you don't look out the tiny window to your right. But you do look at the girl to your left when her powdery-soft hand covers yours. You peer nervously into bright blue eyes and a megawatt smile that reveals slightly crooked teeth which only serve to make her look more charming.

"It's okay," Chrissy whispers, working her fingers between yours and squeezing comfortingly. "I'm right here."

You squeeze her back as the plane taxis on the runway. A hazel eye suddenly peeks at you from between the seats, concerned beneath a tousled head of brown hair. "You okay, baby?" Steve asks, and you nod, head bobbing extra hard as if to convince yourself. "It's only three hours. We'll be there before you know it. Want me to switch with Chris and sit with you?"

Chrissy, looks at you encouragingly. "Whatever you want," she says.

"...No," you reply, voice small. "It's okay. I'll be fine."

You feel the nerves intensify as the plane starts to rumble forward, slowly at first, and then faster and faster. Your breath begins to quicken as the acceleration pushes you back against the plasticky cushions—

Suddenly, a head of wild curls pops above the seat in front of you, brown eyes gleaming over a wide grin as Eddie plants his chin against the seatback. Anatomically, that would be impossible if he was following proper safety protocol; he must be breaking at least three rules of etiquette during takeoff. 

"Eddie!" You hiss, gaze darting around the cabin to see if anyone has noticed. "Sit down!" You glance at Chrissy, but she's eyeing her boyfriend with a flat, resigned stare, clearly used to being unable to control him.

"I am sitting down," he replies with a cheeky tilt to those full lips. His arms join his chin as he folds them casually against the seatback. "Well, I'm half-sitting, half-kneeling, but still—"

"It's not safe!"

Eddie scoffs lightly, expression rife with mischief. "I'm perfectly safe, sweetheart. Car accidents kill far more people every year than plane crashes. I'm safer here than I would be driving my van."

"Truer words have never been spoken," Chrissy mutters to herself. Eddie merely smiles widely.

"See that? Chris agrees with me."

The force of your outraged glare only makes him chuckle. You sputter, "Eddie… if we get kicked off this flight because you don't know how to sit still for three hours—"

"Oh, I can sit still." Eddie cuts you off, glancing toward the nearby cabin wall before his eyes return to you, expression smug. "And you may want to look out the window."

You realize the scenery outside now looks like a circuit board— darkness cut by hundreds of tiny glittering lights in hues of white, red, and yellow, arranged in lines and grids far beneath you now.

You let out a slow breath, hand unclenching from Chrissy's. Eddie smiles again, pleased this time. "Ya see? The worst is over." His head disappears as he flops back into his seat; you exchange a pointed glance with Chrissy as you hear him say, "Don't worry. I'll be back for the landing."

After Chrissy and Eddie had left the night of the rule break back in early May, you'd fully expected things to be awkward between you despite Steve's assurances that he wasn't angry. You'd figured that, at the very least, Steve would be distant or cold to you or Eddie, or that he might decide he wants to pause your arrangement. But it seems that Steve has made every effort to convince everyone things are entirely normal. In doing so, somehow, they are. 

At home, Steve is attentive and cheerful. He began a new habit of making dinner for you both on Thursday nights. He texts you whenever he's going to be home late, as well as throughout the day when you’re apart— sending you pictures that remind him of you, checking in on your work day, responding to your Tiktoks, or sometimes just leaving you cute little messages that make you giggle in the staff room while you eat your lunch. And when Steve’s hazel eyes shine as he holds you close and kisses your forehead, you feel a low flutter in your belly. You nuzzle into his chest, inhaling citrus and sea salt as he tells you he loves you. 

He says it all the time.

Group play still occurs at least once a week, and you can't detect any tension between Steve and Eddie. You figure they must have spoken privately soon after what happened, and you're relieved that Steve is full of broad grins, affectionate back claps, and friendly banter whenever they're together. You know that must put Eddie at ease. Though he hadn't breathed a word about it since you'd texted that night, you're sure he'd been upset to have angered his friend.

When your phone had buzzed the morning after the incident, your first instinct was confusion, thinking that Eddie was texting you again; he never texts you during the day. But you'd been even more confused— even nervous— to see it wasn’t Eddie. Your heart hammered at the sight of Chrissy’s name, and you'd swipe open her message before even turning your alarm off. You were expecting the worst— accusations, bitterness, anger, something— but you were left floored at what she'd actually said.

'Hey, hon! Just wanted to check in and see how you're doing today. I hope you're not still upset and that Steve's okay, too. Just know I'm here for you.' She'd followed it up with a few sparkly pink hearts. 

Chrissy's thoughtfulness struck you hard, and you found your eyes pricking with the sting of guilty tears at the utter lack of sourness in her message. 'I'm okay,' you'd replied. 'Steve and I talked last night, and he's okay, too. I really appreciate you texting.' You pause, lips twisting with remorse, shame sinking in your chest until you add, 'I feel like I owe you an apology. If I'd moved faster, this all could've been avoided. I'm sorry.'

You bite your thumbnail as you wait for Chrissy's response, but it comes quickly enough to stop your doubt from spiraling. 'Oh, babes, don't apologize!! It totally happens, and I'm not mad at all! Maybe next time, try squatting instead, so you have more leverage to push off when you need to. With more practice, you'll get used to it. You'll be a pro in no time." She'd sent a few kissy faces and heart emojis, enough that the guilt inside settled quickly, quelled with the force of her bubbly kindness.

'Thanks, Chrissy.' You'd sent her a heart too. 

And, by some act of fortune, that had been that. You hadn't spoken of the rule break since, nor had you noticed any lasting repercussions on your group dynamic. Chrissy is still insistent on constant attention, but not any more so than she had been before. Eddie is still attentive but happy to go with the flow, as usual. And even Steve has continued to behave exactly the same. He isn't possessive when you go to Eddie, and Eddie goes to you. And, in fact, Steve shocks you even more when he suggests you all take a mini-vacation together: a weekend getaway to Miami in early June.

It's a much-needed respite from the drollness of your weekly routine working at the pediatrician's office; a lovely way to kick off the start of warm weather. You've never been to Miami, and you're eager to share in the new experience with Steve and your friends.

You're half-expecting the other shoe to drop when Steve sits you down at the kitchen table a couple of days later, regarding you seriously. But the conversation isn't a rehashing of the rule-break you'd feared it would be. Instead, Steve calmly and quietly explains that he wants to pay for Eddie and Chrissy's half of the shared hotel room and their plane tickets. You think of the text message Chrissy received from her mother, sympathy churning as the understanding passes between you— that you both have some knowledge of your friends' financial troubles but won't discuss it. You take Steve's hand, squeezing it tight as you tell him you admire his generosity, that it's one of the things you love most about him. Though he protests, you insist on paying for your share of the trip, wanting to do something to contribute. Steve's hazel eyes shine as he kisses your hand, and the way you move together that night, just the two of you, is more tender than it's been in quite some time.

Ahead of your trip, you and Chrissy spend an afternoon at the mall, and it's just as delightful as your first girls' trip had been. The mini-vacation is short— just a weekend— and because Eddie can't take off from work, you’ll be flying on Friday night after his shift. This means you only have two days and one night to plan for, and you decide to purchase a new bathing suit and an outfit for Saturday evening. Chrissy doesn't want anything, though you offer to pay; she insists that she has plenty in her closet she still hasn't worn from last year, and it would be wasteful to get something new. You suspect it's an excuse, but you kindly let her hide behind it anyway. Just like last time, Chrissy encourages you to step out of your comfort zone, and you end up leaving the mall giddy with your daring new purchases.

Soon enough, the first week of June arrives. The days zip to Friday, you zip to the airport, and now here you are, Switch balanced on the armrest between you and Chrissy as she coos and squeals over how cute Animal Crossing is. She's adorably attentive, and you find yourself both grateful and endeared as she lets you show her every inch of your island: all the fish and bugs you've caught, now displayed in the museum; all the rooms of your heavily-decorated log cabin; all the flowers and landscaping around your villagers' houses. Between playing and explaining to Chrissy what you're doing as you do it, the three hours pass by almost absurdly quickly.

True to his word, Eddie pops back around for the landing once the flight attendants have strapped in out of sight, grinning down at you from above the seatback like the Cheshire cat as you eye him flatly.

"Does he never listen?" You ask Chrissy, and you share a long-suffering glance, crossing your arms in a nearly synchronized show of exasperation.

"No," Chrissy replies flatly at the same time that Eddie protests, 

"Yes!" He pouts, gaze darting between you both. "I listen—"

"When it suits you," Chrissy interjects, and you roll your eyes at the wolfish grin that splits Eddie's face.

"Precisely," he says, sounding utterly pleased with himself as you feel the skid-thunk of the plane landing on the tarmac.

Between your long night of packing on Thursday, your half day at the pediatrician's office, the long lines at the TSA, and the long-ish flight, you're now left thoroughly exhausted, swaying on your feet in front of the hotel check-in desk. Eddie is the only person who looks more tired than you— there are deep, dark circles under his squinty eyes as he leans his hands against the counter, elbows locked to keep himself upright. When you get your room, it's with silent agreement that you all prepare for bed. The guys strip down to underwear, you change into your pajamas, and Chrissy sheds all her layers to sleep nude. You don't even take a moment to examine your surroundings before you collapse into the bed furthest from the door, legs stretching against the luxurious sheets as Steve cuddles up behind you. He wraps you in warmth and the familiar scent of citrus and sea salt cologne that still clings to his skin.

You're asleep within seconds, and the pleased smile that kisses your lips lingers the entire night you spend in Steve's arms.

–

You wake to a balmy breeze and luminous sunshine flowing through the gauzy curtains. It's much earlier than you'd normally rise on a Saturday— early for everyone, you figure, especially Eddie, who looks like the walking dead with that nest of tangled curls around his head as he shuffles off to the bathroom. 

As tired as you were last night, you have yet to examine your hotel room. You know the sheets are crisp and smell pleasantly like fresh laundry, and the tile floor is pleasantly cool under your bare toes, but that’s about it. Now, you can see that the room isn't too big, but it has two full beds, a closet and a dresser, and a fairly sizeable bathroom. You’re glad Steve decided to spend up for the location as opposed to the size of the room— it’s clean and seems to have high-quality linens, which, in your opinion, is all that really matters, especially since you’re only staying here for two nights. There is also a balcony facing the ocean, only a block away. You catch peeks of the water from the sliding glass door when the long curtains billow, and you smile when you consider how nice it'll be to sit out there with a glass of wine or, perhaps, with a coffee on Sunday morning.

It's morning now, but you don't have time to indulge in a lazy morning coffee. You'd all decided to make the most of your two days by jamming as much as possible into this one and then leaving tomorrow open to relax a little after an expected late night tonight. First order of business: get to the beach soon to snag a good spot.

You glance towards the other bed to see Chrissy still nude as she riffles in her suitcase. You do the same, digging for your bathing suit: a bikini the deep yellow-orange of a ripe sunflower, bottoms cut high on your waist to show off your wide hips, and top constructed of simple, delicate triangles that reveal more than they conceal. It's much skimpier than you're used to, and you feel a flash of doubt now that you're actually here, thinking about wearing it in public. That self-consciousness had been quelled by Chrissy's eager enthusiasm when you'd picked it out together, but it resurges now. You quickly retrieve your coverup: a long flowy dress, loose but cinched with a dainty tie at the waist. It drapes over you sumptuously, reminding you a little of a Grecian goddess— light, cool, something you can both feel comfortable and half-hide in. Your compromise to yourself when you'd packed, which you're intensely grateful for now. 

You'd gotten used to these people seeing your body— Steve, who's donning navy swim shorts with little sailboats on them, messing with his hair in the full-length mirror; Chrissy, who's laid her even skimpier white string bikini out on the bed, ready for her once she finishes applying her suntan oil; and Eddie, who's rubbing sunscreen into his inky tattoos with care that seems out of place coming from him, pink tongue peeking between his lips in concentration. You may be used to them seeing you, but with that discomfort now wriggling in your belly, you don't follow Chrissy's lead; you duck instead into the bathroom to get changed.

Steve pokes his head past the half-closed door to find you with your foot up on the tub's rim, rubbing the white of your sunscreen away. You see him in the mirror, and he returns your smile. 

"Want me to do your back?" 

"Yes, please," you reply. He moves close behind you, fingers warm as he thoroughly rubs the lotion into your back, careful not to miss any spots. When he's done, you offer to reciprocate.

"Nah, I'm fine," Steve says, grinning at you. "I'm trying to work on my tan."

You eye him with fond exasperation. "You know you can still get tan with sunscreen," you point out, careful to avoid getting sunscreen on your dress as you lift it over your head.

You can hear the smile in Steve's voice behind you while you watch yourself tie the string beneath your breasts, adjusting the fabric til it drapes how you want it to. "It's not as good, though," he says lightly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. 

"If you say so," you say dryly, emerging to find Chrissy with her hair now in a springy ponytail, sunglasses perched on her head, beach bag slung over her shoulder. 

"Ready?" she asks brightly, and you notice she isn't really wearing a coverup— just an entirely sheer skirt slung low on her hips, meant to entice more than anything else. She must be serious about her tan, you think, watching as she drops the bottle of suntan oil into her oversized bag. You grab your own tote and slip on your sandals, glancing at Eddie as he says, still sleep-hoarse,

"As I'll ever be at this godforsaken hour." He's facing away from you, hair pulled into a low messy bun at the nape of his neck, and your face crumples in amusement as you notice that, despite how fastidious he'd been about his tattoos, the sunscreen applied to the rest of his body seemed to be slapped on haphazardly— streaky, still white on his shoulders and the backs of his calves. You suspect that if you were to touch the middle of his back where he can't reach, it would be completely dry.

"Hold on," you sigh. Eddie half-turns, eyeing you curiously as you approach him determinedly.

"What're you doin'?" He mumbles, brown eyes still hazy with sleep. You press your fingers to his shoulders to straighten them again, so he's facing away from you. 

Brisky, you squeeze sunscreen into your hands, replying with amusement, "How could you be so careful with your tattoos and so sloppy with the rest of you? Unacceptable."

Eddie huffs but holds still as you rub sunscreen into his shoulders, using the back of your hand to push up his bun so you can get his neck too. "D'you know how much pain I endured to get these bad boys? No way am I lettin' 'em fade." 

"Well, you should pay the rest of your skin the same respect. With how pale you are, you would absolutely burn to a crisp out there." You work quickly and clinically, smoothing your hands over Eddie's sides and the small of his back before kneeling so you can get his knees and calves where they're exposed beneath the black trunks slung low on his hips. When your cold fingers sneak up under the hem to cover the bottom inch or so of his thighs, Eddie yelps, leg twitching away from your touch. 

You twist your lips against a smile as he grumbles, "Your fingers are cold."

"Oh, don't be a baby," you retort lightly, patting him on the back of his calf when you're done. "There. Now you won't get skin cancer." He huffs again, brown eyes flashing as he twists to regard you flatly when you straighten. You beam at him. "Thank you, y/n," you prompt him, exaggeratedly cheeky.

Despite himself, a corner of Eddie's lips quirks then. "Thanks, I guess," he says, as you don your tote again. Steve slings his arm around your shoulders, and you smile up at him as he tugs you close. 

"Now we're ready," you announce— and with that, you all set off for the gleaming sands of Miami's beaches.

–

The nearby lifeguard stand— which is more a full structure with a spiraling staircase than a stand— is bright pink, orange, and green, the gaudiest you've ever seen as you all traipse over the sand onto South Beach. Despite the early hour, it’s already teeming with people setting up their chairs and umbrellas and towels, preparing for a day rife with the promise of summer fun. You all settle on a spot not too far from that flashy landmark, and you gaze out at the water as the breeze ruffles your dress and hair. Your eyes are fixed on the clear turquoise of the water, the line where it meets the periwinkle of the sky dusted with fluffy clouds. A perfect beach day.

Despite the alluring color of the water, you sink into one of the two folding beach chairs Steve sets up, supplied by the hotel. In front of you, Eddie flops stomach-down onto the towel he's laid haphazardly against the sand; beside him, Chrissy sits much more gracefully, leaning back on her palms as she stretches her bare legs, sheer skirt abandoned as soon as you'd chosen your spot. "Oh, this is so nice!" she exclaims, and you can't help but wholeheartedly agree as you reach into your tote bag for your beach essentials: a new book and your AirPods.

The sea breeze is balmy, and the sun plays between the shifting clouds, bathing you in relaxing warmth as you dig your toes contentedly into the sand. Despite the many strangers around you, the beach is not yet too loud. Everything feels subdued, dream-like almost, so you keep your earbuds out and instead listen to the chorus of the rhythmic waves and the distant cries of seagulls, letting them become your soundtrack for now. Steve's broad hand rests comfortably upon your knee, nearly hot through the light fabric of your dress, and his thumb traces a random pattern. Your head tilts as you sigh, a smile playing on your lips, eyes heavy with the peace of this moment as you glance at each of your companions: Chrissy stretched out to soak up the rays, skin glistening with suntan oil; Eddie with his curly head pillowed face-down on his arms, body so slack you suspect he's probably fallen back asleep; and Steve at your side, hazel eyes affectionate as you smile wider at him. His expression softens as he regards you before murmuring, "Are you happy?"

"Yes," you answer quietly. Sincerely. "I'm very happy."

Steve seems pleased at your answer, and when you brush his hair back out of his eye, he catches your hand gently to press a tender kiss to your wrist. "Good," he murmurs against your skin, another kiss lingering until he releases your hand. Fondness bubbling up inside, you lean over towards your boyfriend; when you kiss him, Steve tastes salty from the breeze on his lips.

This is how you spend the first couple of hours or so: absorbed in your book as Steve alternates between scrolling on his phone, resting with heavy, contented sighs, and occasionally pressing kisses to your fingers as you keep reading, ensuring that you feel steadily more full with hazy contentment as he pays you unobtrusive attention. At one point, he decides to dip into the water after asking if any of you want to join him. But Eddie is asleep, Chrissy is sunbathing, and the book has just gotten good, so he goes by himself without complaint. He wanders back soon enough, noting that the water is too cold for him to venture in past his ankles.

Around eleven, you crack open the tiny cooler Steve had packed, pulling out water bottles and cans of High Noon and Corona, then snacking on chips, salsa, and orange slices. You sit with Chrissy on her blanket as she peels the flesh from her orange rinds, and Steve nudges Eddie's leg out of the way so he can join in too. Eddie wakes up then, crossing his legs as he leans forward eagerly to peer into the container. "No strawberries?" he asks, pouting lightly, and you feel affection well up as you pass him the chip you'd just loaded with salsa in recompense. He seems adequately satisfied with the substitute, and you continue to indulge in salty chips, savory salsa, and sweet fruit until you're content. 

Not long after you've returned to reading, a flurry of activity some distance away draws your attention. By the green edge at the top of the beach, some men and women around your age are mingling in a clump near a portable volleyball net.

You notice Steve eyeing the activity with interest; you smile as you see his enthusiasm. "I think I'm gonna go over there," he says, neck craning to see better. "Doesn't look like they have enough people yet."

"What's— ooh!" Chrissy's blue eyes brighten as she twists to look. "I love volleyball!"

"Wanna get in on it with me?" 

"Oh, hell yes!" Chrissy exclaims, popping up without hesitation. Steve glances at you again, brows perked behind his bangs as if he's checking for your approval. 

"Go for it," you say, chuckling as he scrambles up immediately, brushing the sand from his legs as he and Chrissy jog over toward the group. You watch them exchange words with one of them, pleased when Steve's face lights up with a broad grin, and he claps the guy on the shoulder.

You feel your left side suddenly dip as the sand shifts when Eddie tumbles into the chair beside you, drawing your attention from Steve as you flash a smile at him. You go back to watching as Steve and Chrissy choose their spots around the net, book forgotten as you follow Steve's movements with interest— the broad muscles on his back, his tanned arms stretching as he volleys the ball easily before falling into a slight crouch, coiled and poised to move wherever he needs to. When he sets up a teammate and they score the first point, you can hear Chrissy's delighted shriek from across the sand. Steve and Chrissy exchange an enthusiastic double high-five before he glances back, hand dragging through his hair as his eyes dart. And when you wave your hand high in the air, so Steve knows that you saw his set-up, the broadness of his brilliant smile warms you inside.

Beside you, that smoke voice curls against your ear. "You make him really happy, you know." You glance at Eddie to see him looking past you, brown eyes still fixed on the makeshift volleyball court, gleaming with fondness. "He'd dated around a bit since Nancy, but you're the first girl he was ever really serious about. He's been much happier these last few years since you came around."

Though the sentiment settles comfortably behind your sternum, you can't help but also feel confused. "Thanks, I'm really glad he's happy," you say sincerely before adding, "Who's Nancy?"

Eddie's eyes had drifted back toward the game, but they snap to you then, suddenly wide. "Steve never mentioned…?" Eddie's voice is a little weak before he trails off, and when you shake your head, you watch his expression go a little panicked and sheepish. "Ah… shit," he finally says, face contorting in a wince. "I guess I shouldn't have said anything."

You frown. Eddie’s behavior reveals that not only had he expected you to know about this— which means it's something Steve is keeping from you— but that he considers it to be touchy enough that he regrets mentioning it. As your book slides on your lap when you lean toward him, you close it without looking, dropping it impatiently to the sand. "Well, now you have to tell me, Eddie." You stare at him as his eyes narrow hesitantly, but your expression is unwavering. "You can't just leave me hanging after saying something like that."

Eddie sighs heavily, hands rubbing against his thighs as he looks out at the ocean. He tugs absently on a lock of his hair as he talks. "Steve dated this girl, Nancy, for almost all of high school. She's the same age as you and Chris." Your eyes are rapt to Eddie's face as he glances at you. "They got together when she was a freshman. They became really close." He shifts, facing you more directly. "You know, a lot of couples break up when they graduate, especially if one person is still in high school and one is going on to college. But Steve was committed despite things being long-distance. He even got close with her family. Went on vacations with them, shared holidays, that kind of thing." 

Eddie's eyes soften with sympathy for his friend as they dart between yours, and he adds quietly, "You know what things are like with his parents, so..." You nod, somber as you remember Steve confiding in you the broken state of his relationship with his mother and father. He tries to pretend it doesn't bother him, but you know it's still a wound, especially around the holidays. It's why you always make sure those times are busy for him and full of cheer. It helps that your parents and older sister love Steve, and he fits in seamlessly with your family.

Eddie's voice snaps you out of your musing. "Nancy's younger brother was in D&D club with me in school, so that's how Steve and I got better acquainted. And, uh… that's kind of the basics." He pauses, and you feel your stomach sink with the expression on his face. Eddie speaks slowly, carefully, as if he's treading lightly for the first time in his recounting of this story. "And then they broke up. 'Cause she… well, she cheated on him." You glance at your lap, weighed down with the seriousness apparent in Eddie's voice, how he lapses into somber silence. Clearly, this event was defining in Steve's life. Quietly, Eddie adds, "He was upset about it for… a long time." He shrugs a little helplessly, contrite. "And that's probably about as much as I should say. You could ask him about it if you wanna know more." 

You nod slowly, chest heavy with sympathetic sorrow for your boyfriend. But your mind is swirling with all you've learned, all you'd never known. "Yeah," you say, unsure whether you will. Because even though you'd told Steve everything— about the two boyfriends you'd had before him; about how you'd done stuff with them but hadn’t gone all the way before him; about how he'd been the first guy you'd ever said 'I love you' to— even though you'd told him all of that, not once had Steve ever mentioned anything about Nancy. And you feel foreboding pang deep in the pit of your stomach, mixing with the weight of your sorrow until you're too uncomfortable to dwell anymore.

You ask quickly, "Did you and Chrissy start dating in high school?"

Eddie is clearly relieved that you've dropped the subject and won't press him for more. "Yep," he replies, "she almost got away— we started dating when she was a senior."

Desperate for the distraction of a story told with typical Eddie-level theatrics, you lean your elbow on the arm of the chair and plant your chin there, tilting towards him as you ask eagerly, "How'd you get together? Don't spare the details; I wanna hear it all."

"All right," he grins, flashing eye teeth as his eyes brighten at the promise of weaving his tale. Short curls sway around his pale quartz face as he gestures dramatically. "So, picture this: Chrissy Cunningham, head cheerleader, cute as a button. The sweetest, most popular girl in school; the queen—" Eddie's voice goes all breathy with dramatic awe, "—of Hawkins High." When you giggle at his antics, his expression falls into a broad grin. "And she's dating this bible thumpin' golden boy, head of the basketball team, personal torturer of nerds and outcasts everywhere. He's the king to Chrissy's queen, the supreme douche himself... Jason Carver." 

You stifle your amused smile in an effort to say seriously, "I take it you and he didn't get along."

"Oh," Eddie says easily, "hated each other's fuckin' guts. Anyway…" he plants his elbow on his own chair arm to mirror your posture, leaning in and affecting his voice like you're two girlfriends gossiping. "So what had happened was, Chrissy was getting a little sick and tired of all the pressure to be perfect all the time. Perfect looks, perfect grades, perfect boyfriend, perfect future. So she started lookin' for ways to, ah… take the edge off. Let loose a little bit." He eyes you cautiously, letting his voice trail into implication. "You know…" 

You assume Eddie is probably talking about drugs, though he seems to be reluctant to acknowledge it outright. "I get it," you say dryly, though not unkindly, and his lips tilt in a little smile before he continues. 

"So that's how we started talking. And what began as a little bit of business turned to some steamy meetings at the picnic bench in the woods outside school, and, ya know… this lead to that, and the rest is history." He smiles broadly. "So the queen of Hawkins High left the king and started dating the freak."

Eddie says the word 'freak' with the utmost lightness, but the word strikes you immediately. You frown, nose wrinkling as you repeat him incredulously. "Freak?"

"Yeah," he replies casually, lounging back, stretching his lanky legs comfortably. "That's what they called me."

You blink rapidly as you're left reeling with the absurdity of it— that someone could look at the gorgeous man sitting beside you and call him a freak. You scoff, mouth working soundlessly until you can finally speak, unable to keep from sounding appalled. "What, 'cause you… you were into heavy metal and, like, had your ears pierced?"

Eddie chuckles a little weakly, brown eyes darting from your stare, which is fierce with offense for him. "Well, I mean, it wasn't just that," he replies, shifting in his seat.

You swallow, leaning back and reigning in the vehemence of your reaction when you see how you're making Eddie uncomfortable. You want to question him more, to force him to tell you what else there could be to justify them calling him something like that. But Eddie's brown eyes are clouded, a little frown creasing between his dark brows as he taps his fingers against his thigh. You decide not to pry. "That just seems so… bizarre," you say. "That people would still think like that."

Eddie chuckles again, a little wry but not as weak this time. "Small-town Indiana, you know? It's like they're stuck in the fifties. Everybody's gotta be a certain way, or else."

"Well," you reply, smiling gently as he looks at you again when you say sincerely, "I'm glad Chrissy didn't fall into that stupid trap. You guys seem really good together." Fondness blooms in your chest when Eddie smiles back.

"It's been five years now. Moved in together near the end of last year, actually. It was a bit of an adjustment at first, but it's been good." 

Your eyes glint with mischievousness then, and you can't help but tease, "Wait, let me guess: you're a roll-under instead of a roll-over toilet paper guy, aren't you?" 

Eddie feigns a gasp, pressing a hand to his inked chest. "How dare you accuse me of such wretchedness."

You giggle, and he breaks the affronted act quickly, the husky sound of his genuine laughter warming you inside, fluttering low in your belly. You eye Eddie for a moment, realizing that this is the longest and most open conversation you've probably ever had with him. And there's something that's been nagging at you, especially since Chrissy had checked in so kindly with you after that night Steve got mad. It's something you were never going to bring up to Chrissy, but considering how forthcoming Eddie's been this morning, maybe he'll be receptive to you asking. "So, when we went to see Avatar back in May, I accidentally saw this text from her mom. Is Chrissy, like… okay?" 

Eddie sighs heavily, rubbing the back of his hair as his expression falls slightly. "Yeah, she's… she's okay." He glances away again. "She has a rough relationship with her parents, especially with her mom. 'Member how I said she had all that pressure, and that's why we started talking?" He glances briefly at you to see you nod. "They had all these expectations for what they wanted her to do with her life— go to church every Sunday, train hard for cheer while also getting perfect grades, go to the best college, marry Jason, all so she can become just like them. Look this way, say that thing. Be their perfect little… robot. And she just got sick of it. She didn't wanna do it anymore." 

After a brief pause, Eddie slumps a little lower in the chair, rubbing at his knuckles. And his voice, when he says this, is so casual— but the way it affects you is anything but. "You know, sometimes, I think Chris wanted to stick it to her parents, and that's why she started dating me: Mr. Bad Reputation. But it's been five years, and she hasn't left me yet," he jokes, lips stretching with a grin even as you frown, retorting immediately,

"I don't see why she would ever leave you, Eddie. I mean, what's not to like?" 

For a long moment, Eddie is quiet. Those brown eyes, normally so bright and lively, stay stuck on his hands as he fidgets with his fingers and ruddy knuckles. You figure he must be missing his typical rings, left back in the room to remain untarnished by salt water. He doesn't look at you, but your eyes are riveted on Eddie's downturned face, pale quartz framed by dark ink curls. 

And then Eddie finally meets your gaze, face a mask of bland indifference. "I sold drugs all throughout high school. I failed senior year three times and only passed by the skin of my teeth. Obviously, I never went to college." You blink, almost wanting to look away at the baldness, the flatness of his words. The utter lack of feeling that feels so wrong coming from Eddie. "I grew up in a trailer park. I lived in low-income housing 'til I was twenty-three. And now, I'm a mechanic who can't afford to take one day off for a vacation." He huffs a humorless chuckle, quirking a sardonic brow as he stares at you. "Need I go on?"

Speaking can often be difficult for you. You usually fight to find the right words to say.

But looking into Eddie's eyes, the most beautiful shade of brown you've ever seen, you don't need to fight now. Not with these words. These words surge straight up from the bottom of you, from that hidden place grown lush with deep roots and slowly blooming greenery that now strains from the soil, leaves quivering, bending toward the man at your side. They burst from your mouth, and you don't even have to think about them. "Eddie. First of all, you're ridiculously talented and so passionate. It's like… electric to watch you perform. And you're funny. When we went to get ice cream that first time we met, I was nervous it would be awkward 'cause I usually don't know what to say around people I don't know. But you just have this way of making people laugh and feel at ease. You pretend you're all mean and scary because you listen to metal, but you're actually so incredibly kind. Plus, you're probably the realest person I know. Totally authentic and unapologetically an absolute weirdo." And your eyes, which once had darted from the intensity of this man beside you, from the light that shines within him— they don't flit away, not even once. Fiercely, determinedly, you finish your speech. "So. Like I said. What's not to like?" 

There is another long pause as Eddie stares back at you, expression unreadable, blank aside from a little crease between his brows. You regard him calmly, patiently; you refrain from pressing him for a response, letting Eddie take his time to consider what you said. And you think, as the moment lingers, that perhaps you'll see it again: that pink on Eddie's black and white, the gentleness blooming out from his eyes, maybe now beginning to soften his features. Tentative hope builds as he holds your gaze, eyes darting between yours. And when Eddie's eyes dart to your lips, your heart thumps hard, moths fluttering; you scarcely dare to breathe.

But when Eddie's eyes meet yours again, he just shrugs one shoulder, letting it fall sharply as he looks away. When Eddie turns from you, he leans his chin in his palm, hunching forward; your stomach swoops with disappointment at his lackluster response, brow crumpling until you notice his knee bouncing erratically, hand fisted against his leg, knuckles white with the force of his grip. Your disappointment transforms to empathy as you watch him— tense, nostrils flared, brow tugged low over his brown eyes. 

You realize that Eddie just doesn't know what to do with what you said about him. He doesn't know how to react to you hearing all the negative things he revealed about himself and excusing them entirely, focusing plainly on his good qualities. The ones you suspect that, maybe, Eddie has trouble seeing in himself. And you think about all the times Eddie has helped you through your own hesitance and anxiety, reassuring you in that calm way that almost seems like it would be unnatural coming from Eddie Munson, but has always felt right, just felt like a part of him. 

Here is an opportunity for you to return Eddie's consistent kindness.

You move to stand in front of him, blocking Eddie's view of the ocean with your body. His brow crinkles as he looks up at you, fingers still curled over his mouth. "All right, you," you say brightly. "We're going for a walk on the beach. Maybe if you're lucky, we can get your pasty ass a tan." 

Eddie's frown softens fractionally when you grin at him, but he doesn't move, expression a little skeptical. You hold out your hands expectantly, wiggling your fingers until Eddie, rather reluctantly, puts his hands in yours. "Come on, then—" your voice goes tight as you haul him up. "Holy— you're heavier than I thought you'd be," you pant, shaking out your arms dramatically as Eddie finds his footing. Those brown eyes are no longer as flat now, instead twinkling with slight amusement as you grab your phone and your AirPods case, presenting one earbud to him with a flourish. When Eddie doesn't reach out to take your offering, you snatch his hand, pressing it into his palm.

"What's this for?" he asks, staring down at the white bud.

You navigate to the Spotify app on your phone. "Have you never gone on a beach walk listening to music like you're in an indie teen movie?"

"Uh—" Eddie huffs a chuckle. "Can't say I have." 

"Oh, you're missing out." When you see him eyeing you with skepticism, you roll your eyes exaggeratedly. "Look, I'll put my Spotify on shuffle. It'll be, like, seventy percent me, thirty percent you."

Eddie's laugh is genuine again, and you bask in the sound. "Somehow, I doubt that percentage," he retorts, though he gamely acquiesces, fitting the bud into his ear. 

"Oh, ye of little faith!" You drop the case and your phone into your deep dress pocket and lead the way; they bounce against your thigh as Eddie falls into step with you. The first song begins with an eerie tinkling of bells before the guitar comes in, harsh and aggressive. You tilt your head as you eye him, saying smugly, "See?"

Eddie raises his hands, a grin tugging at his full lips. "I eat my words, sweetheart," he concedes, and your heads bob in time to the beat as you walk along the beach listening to The Summoning by Sleep Token. It strikes you as exceedingly amusing that, while everyone around you is casually lounging around on the beach in sunny Florida, you and Eddie are listening to eerie wailing and a heavy-metal singer husking, 'You've got my body, flesh and bone…' You giggle as Eddie gets really into it while he walks, strumming his invisible guitar and tossing his head until some more curls fall loose from his bun. 

You walk in silence, soaking in the instrumentals until the dreamy soundscape interlude subsides into a funk breakdown, and the singer croons, 'Oh, and my love, did I mistake you for a sign from God?' "This is my favorite part!" You tell Eddie, eyes bright with enthusiasm as you turn to him. 

You read his expression as both amused and impressed. "Okay, y/n. I see you. This part is sexy."

Eddie grins wolfishly as you flush, cheeks heating as you purse your lips; you walk a little faster, so he has to lope with longer steps to keep up. You hear him chuckling to himself but choose to ignore it.

The next song is Slow Mover by Angie McMahon, and within the first ten seconds of hearing her drawling voice, Eddie remarks, "Now I feel like I'm in an indie teen movie." You aren't sure whether he's being critical, but his expression is only slightly wry as he twists to walk backward in front of you instead of by your side. "Feel like I'm the main girl who's recklessly hitched a ride on a train, runnin' away from home towards the inevitable homelessness waiting for me in the city."

It takes considerable effort to keep your expression neutral while you say this, but by some miracle, you manage it. "Well, you certainly have the hair for it."

Eddie's eyes widen in delight even as his mouth falls open in outrage. "You sayin' I have hobo hair?" He makes to grab your waist, but you dodge him with a shrill shout, giggling. "Might have to rescind your nickname if you keep criticizing me. You'll be sweet girl no longer."

"No!" You whine softly, pouting up at him as you let him snatch you around the middle. "Anything but that." You're joking, but you're also not, though you giggle again as Eddie shimmies you playfully back and forth.

"Then be nice," he says warningly, and you nod your obedience quickly, eyes wide and beseeching. "'Kay then. I'll trust you," he says, releasing you so you can continue your wandering path along the beach. 

As Angie sings, 'Friend, oh friend, I am a slow, slow girl,' you catch Eddie's brown eyes twinkling. "You are a slow girl," he says cheekily. "You're walking slow."

You pout, protesting his unfair assessment. "It's hard to walk on dry sand!" 

"Then let's walk down there," Eddie offers, and you dip down to the water's edge, sand wet and pliant between your toes as you squish along much more easily. As a wave recedes, you see a sudden small object scuttling away from you. 

"Look! A crab!" You exclaim, grabbing Eddie's forearm. Excitement surges as you trace its frantic path with your eyes until it disappears into the surf. You turn to Eddie, eyes shiny with innocent delight. His arm is warm under your fingers, and the breadth of his answering smile— the way it dimples his cheek and crinkles his brown eyes like the sun itself is shining in them— makes those wings flutter low in your stomach again. 

You suddenly realize that you've wandered far enough that the pink and green and orange lifeguard structure is no longer visible; you and Eddie are alone, surrounded only by strangers. The only other time you've ever been truly alone was when you'd gone to get ice cream the first time you'd met him. The flutters surge a little harder at the realization, but you don't have any time to process as Eddie says suddenly, "Let's go in the water."

Your hand falls from his arm, eyes darting to take in just how many strangers surround you. The answer is very many; the beach, by this time, is quite crowded. And while you aren't afraid of Eddie seeing you in your new bathing suit, that self-consciousness from the hotel room resurges at the idea of baring yourself to the possibility of stares and flickering expressions.

Your hesitance softens as Eddie moves closer, and suddenly all you see is that face you treasure: strong jaw, soft nose, full lips, wide brown eyes framed by long lashes. Dark curls that tumble around his shoulders when he pulls the band from his hair, slipping it onto his wrist instead. "Come in the water with me," he coaxes you, smoke voice quiet and gentle. And as you breathe it in, it soothes the discomfort, settling full and rich in your belly.

You nod, retrieving your phone and AirPod case from your deep dress pocket and putting away your earbuds. You let Eddie's nimble fingers pull the bow from the tie at your waist, and carefully, he gathers the flowy fabric, lifting it until your sunflower-yellow bikini is revealed. The bathing suit is more daring than anything you've worn in public before, and you feel like every inch of your softness is exposed, each vulnerable part of you on display. You take the dress quickly from Eddie's hands, folding it to give you something to occupy yourself with. You drop it to the sand beside you, gritting your teeth as you bend to tuck your phone and AirPods beneath the fabric, trying not to think about how crunching over probably makes your body look unattractive. 

But when you straighten, your eyes widen to see how Eddie's looking at you. His gaze is milder, more controlled than usual, but you still respond to the heat behind his dark eyes as they caress your body silently. He swallows thickly when your breathing quickens, eyes drawn to your breasts as they rise and fall visibly. Though the way Eddie is looking at you has dispelled your discomfort about strangers' judgments, this moment is quickly becoming tense and loaded. You feel a stirring of conflicting emotions: attraction, trepidation, and excitement mixing into a jumbled mess behind your sternum, underpinned with sluggish guilt oozing anew in your gut. 

Because you're alone with Eddie. And though a thrill races through you at the thought, you know you should not be thinking about kissing him right now. 

Rule number one, you remind yourself, shifting subtly backward and speaking in an attempt to break the tension between you. "I don't wanna go in all the way," you tell him. 

Eddie blinks as if he's suddenly just come back to himself. "And why is that?" he asks, sounding elaborately casual.

You eye him cautiously, alarmed by the sudden twinkle in his eye, the growing tilt to his wide mouth. "Because Steve said it's cold—"

He moves so fast you have no time to react, and you yelp as you find yourself suddenly hoisted into Eddie's arms. "Eddie!" You squeak, face flaming and stomach swooping in intense embarrassment as he holds you bridal-style. "You can't carry me!"

There's a reason why you've never asked any of your boyfriends to carry you, why Steve has never even attempted to pick you up beyond a quick lift a couple of inches from the ground. The words I'm too heavy hang unsaid on your lips, and your brow crinkles pleadingly; you're silently begging Eddie not to make you say it.

"Can't I?" He challenges, and your arms wrap desperately around his neck as you scrunch your eyes shut, prepared for Eddie to concede or to halt halfway or for his arms to simply give out due to his sheer stubbornness. But when you hear splashing, you peek to see him already calf-deep in the water. "Shit," he huffs, and you feel his chuckles rumbling in his chest where you're pressed against it. "All right, I'll admit it's kinda cold."

Eddie doesn't even seem to struggle as he carries you into the ocean, and you can't pretend you aren't surprised. I guess he's stronger than he looks, you acknowledge, shoulders relaxing fractionally as he eases into the water. "Told you it was cold," you mumble sourly, and you feel him laugh again, flutters stirring as you realize suddenly how Eddie's arms are wrapped around you, supporting you solidly; how warm his sun-kissed skin is against yours; how your nose is nearly pressed to the base of his throat—

"Fuck—!"

Your yelp is cut off as Eddie stumbles on a sandbar; together, you collapse into the water.

The shock of cold nearly steals your breath until, almost as quickly, Eddie hauls you up out of the water. "Holy shit," he gasps, hands tight against your upper arms as you sputter, trying to find your footing. The sand dips down right past the bar, nearly too far to stand, but Eddie steadies you before his palms find your face, messily pushing your wet hair back where it's covering your eyes. Eddie sounds so upset as he stammers, "Shit, y/n, I am so sorry—"

But you're laughing, head tilting back as Eddie tries desperately to fix your hair, though his attempts are clumsy at best. You take over for him, dipping into the water so you can slick the length of your hair back. "It's fine," you say through leftover chuckles, eyes widening suddenly in alarm as you register the wave heading straight for you behind Eddie's back.

He registers your reaction a second before you're hit, and you both somehow manage to duck in time for the wave to pass without jostling you too much. Still, Eddie's body drifts toward yours with its force, and when you pop from the water, his arms close around your middle, holding you up higher than you could reach yourself. Almost automatically, your arms wrap around his shoulders, and your legs do the same around his hips. You cling to him, buoyant, letting him hold you in the waves.

Eddie seems relieved that you aren't mad and, even more so, delighted that you'd laughed off getting unexpectedly dunked under the cold water. "Don't worry, sweet girl," he says, playfully tightening his arms. "I've got you. I'll fight off every rip current and seagull that tries to snatch you with my bare hands." 

You giggle, matching his energy with your reply. "Thank you, oh mighty bard, for keeping me safe from the terrors of the sea." 

"Any time." Eddie smiles broadly again, looking utterly pleased that you'd played along. 

And as your gaze runs over Eddie's dark hair plastered to his cheeks and neck, his long lashes beaded with saltwater, his lips so full and pink and his brown eyes so utterly alive, longing strikes you, swift and potent. Longing that begs you to bury your fingers in those wet curls. To taste the salt on Eddie's mouth. To hold him close, bury your nose in the crook of his neck, and never let him go.

It's so powerful, the impulse, that it zips straight down to pulse hard in your pussy, fluttering the moth wings wildly on the way. You feel your face sway instinctually toward him, your eyes dipping beyond your control to his lips. And as you register the dawning realization in Eddie’s eyes when your gaze darts back to beautiful brown, you remember, suddenly, Steve's anger and sadness, the distress he'd felt at the first rule you and Eddie had broken.

And that had been an accident. What you want to do is entirely intentional.

Trepidation and guilt win out. 

As you loosen your arms and legs, Eddie releases his grip immediately to let you put some distance between you. His brow is a little pinched, eyes almost worried until you splash him lightly, lips quirking with a small playful smile. When he smiles back, splashing you boldly, you internally sag with relief.

You and Eddie spend some time playing around in the waves, but it doesn't take long for the appeal of the sun's warm rays to draw you out of the sea. You squeeze the water from your hair as Eddie shakes his like a dog; you're half-amused and half-exasperated as he sprays you with droplets. You'd neglected to bring any towels, so you slick the water off your skin with your hands as best you can; you dry your ears with the hem of your dress, offering it to Eddie so you can both listen to music on the walk back. After, you drop your phone and your AirPod case into your dress pocket without wearing it. You figure you can just carry it for now, and by the time you return to your belongings, your body will be dry enough to put it back on.

The first song on your walk back starts strong.

'You say I want to be your girlfriend—' 

The playful affectation and cheery pop beat of Hemlock Springs' Girlfriend conjure opposing reactions in you and Eddie. While your mouth falls open in a delighted smile, Eddie's nose crinkles, head shaking as he crosses his arms in front of his chest, gesturing sharply. "No. Nope. No way," he says firmly, brow crooked in dismay as you skip ahead of him, entirely unbothered by his vehement rejection of the song.

"It's really catchy!" You protest, head bopping as the synths drop in. "Give it a chance."

Eddie grumbles as he catches up to you, eyeing your swaying shoulders begrudgingly. You walk together briefly before he falls behind, and when you notice he's no longer by your side, you turn, already frowning in anticipation of more complaints about the music. But Eddie's just bending to pick something up in the sand, hand wagging in the water before he straightens and jogs to you. He shows you that he's found a small scallop shell, banded bright red and white. He offers it to you, and you take it from him delicately, happiness blooming along with your brilliant smile. "Thanks, Eddie!" you say, shoulders back to swaying as you start to dance as you walk. You stare down at your scallop shell for another moment before slipping it carefully into the other pocket of your dress.

When the song's bridge hits, you spin to face Eddie, shoulders shaking jauntily, hips wiggling as you sing along: 'Secretly, I'm aiming for a rhythm that exceeds my expectations. Am I ever gonna get it?' You affect an attitude for the second line, rubbing your shoulder against his arm as you pretend to pout before smiling widely, dancing away. 

And you aren't thinking about the people around you as your feet play in the water, the breeze tickles against your bare stomach, and your ass wobbles when you sway your hips. You're not thinking about any of that. You're just in the moment— listening to a treasured song, dancing along the beach beside a treasured person.

By the song's end, you even catch a glimpse of Eddie bobbing his head, though he stops as soon as he sees you looking. Your shit-eating grin makes him huff, but it's too late for him to pretend he wasn't getting into it. You're just about to rib on him when the next song begins— the tonal shift strikes you, and your mirth fades as the acoustic guitar introduces Stephen Sanchez's Hey Girl.

This song is very different from Girlfriend. It's introspective and sentimental. You can feel the longing in his voice when he sings, 'Hey girl, with your head in the clouds: I wanna love you, I wanna love you—'

After the poignancy of earlier when Eddie held you in the waves, this song strikes you as too raw and vulnerable. Overwhelmed, you dig your phone out of your pocket to skip to the next one, but calloused fingers on your arm stop you. "Don't change it. I like this one," Eddie says quietly, voice husky like smoke; you glance to see his eyes fixed on your hand, and you're suddenly grateful he isn't looking at your face. 

Hesitantly, you obey, throat thick with the sentiment of the song. And where there'd been a comfortable gap between your bodies, slowly, by degrees, you feel yourself drifting closer as Eddie does the same, drawn together like you're being pulled in by some invisible force. The longing inside you transforms, sharpening, turning wistful as Eddie's hand brushes yours lightly, light enough to be incidental. But when Eddie's calloused fingers nudge against yours tentatively, you know the brush is deliberate. And though you keep staring straight ahead, you weave your fingers together, holding Eddie's hand as you walk back down the beach together.

You suppose, to all those strangers watching from their towels and beach chairs, that you and Eddie look like an average couple holding hands. But you're not. You're not that at all— not average, and not a couple. Yet when Stephen sings, 'Oh good God, I'm tongue-tied, I'm a landslide when you move,' and you feel Eddie's fingers squeeze yours gently, deliberately, you can't help the tremble of your chin, the slight sting of your eyes as your green quivers, growing taller. The leaves fan, full and plush and soft with downy fuzz. And as small white flowers, tiny and delicate, open their petals, you squeeze Eddie's fingers back. Gently, deliberately. 

A tiny smile blooms on your lips as you feel his thumb rasp slowly across your skin. And all the rest of what you feel— the trepidation, the anxiety, the guilt— it all falls away as you flutter with the tender affection of Eddie's touch.

All too soon, that gaudy lifeguard stand juts ugly into the sky, and as you spot the distant yet familiar forms now sitting in those beach chairs— a hairy man in navy trunks and a petite blonde woman in a bright white string bikini— you feel Eddie's fingers slide from yours. 

The loss of Eddie's hand is acute. It pangs within you hollowly, but you school your features as you approach your boyfriend and friend, whose expressions perk as they spot you and Eddie. And just like your feet sink into the sand, you let your feelings sink down until they're concealed beneath a layer of soft, protective dirt.

"You went in the water?" Steve asks as you approach his side, dropping a quick kiss on his cheek. 

"Wasn't it cold?" Chrissy adds, though she's quickly distracted as she pops up to wrap Eddie in a tight hug. 

"Yup," you reply, pulling your lips into a small smile as Chrissy giggles when Eddie bonks her cheek lightly with his nose. "It was."

–

The afternoon crawls by in snapshots of moments. Chrissy hops on Eddie's back so he can carry her to the beach's exit. You eat lunch at a local Italian restaurant called Crust and split a honey-truffle pizza and some small plates. Chrissy feeds Eddie tiny bites of burrata and prosciutto; Steve leans into you, hand landing comfortably on your knee. You browse the shops at Bayside Marketplace. Steve offers to buy you whatever you want, and he doesn't question when you choose only a dainty gold chain— plain, with nothing hanging from it. Chrissy swings Eddie's hand as they walk ahead of you down the sandstone. Later, you and Steve diverge from them and find yourselves wandering toward the Ferris wheel. 

And as you ride it— gazing out at Miami city, at its tall silver skyscrapers and its turquoise blue waters— you sit across from your boyfriend, Steve Harrington. He's lounging back, toes wiggling in his boat shoes, hair mussed artfully from salt and wind. He is handsome. His nose is alkaline, his brows are thick and dark, and his jaw is strong, dusted by stubble. Steve works at a bank and makes a lot of money. He is athletic, and he loves basketball. He has always been attentive and generous; he gives of himself to you and his friends alike. He has an ex-girlfriend named Nancy, whom he loved and who cheated on him. You've been dating for three years. You lost your virginity to him, and you share an apartment. He's been perfect on this trip. He's made you feel so loved. You love him.

And yet, Steve Harrington doesn't make your wings flutter like Eddie Munson does.

He never has.

And yet… 

As Steve clambers over to your side, you shift on the seat to make room for him. When his arm wraps around your shoulders, you lean into his side. You drag your nails lightly over his abdomen and the fur on his chest until he sighs, humming contentedly. And when Steve ducks his head toward you, you use that hand to cup his cheek as you kiss him.

Because Steve Harrington is your boyfriend, not Eddie Munson. Eddie Munson is Chrissy Cunningham's boyfriend. And you are not Chrissy.

So it doesn't matter how Eddie makes your wings flutter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

If you think it enough, maybe you'll start to believe it.

–

Throwing yourself into your preparations for clubbing wasn't just a welcome distraction— it was a necessary one. Thankfully, lounging on your bed with Chrissy, hair and bodies wrapped in fluffy hotel towels as you scroll Tiktok together, you'd managed to bury your emotions and revelations under a healthy mound of peat. It’s not enough to stifle them, but enough to keep them from surfacing when Eddie emerges from the bathroom in a puff of steam, curls dripping water down his chest to catch on the low-slung towel around his hips. 

Thank goodness for this hotel's overabundance of linens.

About an hour and a half before you plan to leave, you and Chrissy decisively oust the men from the shared bathroom. It transforms into a battleground of razors, toner, and eyeshadow palettes as you arm yourselves for your night out, meticulously readying every inch of your body. After your hair has been texturized, styled, and set, you apply your makeup side-by-side. 

It never ceases to fascinate you how Chrissy can so dramatically transform herself. Where normally she looks so young and innocent, with makeup, she becomes so fierce and sensual— almost like a different person, though you know by now that, really, it's just an extension of her inner self. Today she's opted for sharp black liner in the inner corners that extends out in a thin wing, with a swipe of metallic color on her lids and false eyelashes. Her brows are sharp, too, and she's highlighted her cheekbones to accentuate the angles and contours of her face. Bold, foxy. Totally Chrissy. 

You apply more makeup than you usually do, but you prefer something a little more subtle on yourself. You've tried bold eye makeup before, and while you are trying to step outside your comfort zone lately, you just… don't feel like yourself with it. You opt instead for a slick, nearly nude hue on your lids and plenty of mascara to accentuate the length of your lashes. You spend more time on your skin— you want to achieve a dewy, healthy flush, so you focus on blush and subtle highlight and shadow to add depth, plus a mauve, lush lipgloss that's slightly darker than your natural color. You're thrilled with the final result: it still feels like you, as if you're glowing from the inside. More ethereal.

You fawn over each other's makeup, and as you drop your towels to dress, you notice that Chrissy's efforts to get tan didn't go unrealized. Her skin looks a little more golden than it did this morning, and it accentuates the color of the mini-dress she's chosen for the night. It's a bright orange, not typical for Chrissy but entirely appropriate for the tropical location. Chrissy's dress is strapless, with large triangular cutouts at the ribs that point inwards and give the illusion she has an even smaller waist. She twists to look at herself in the mirror, and you can't help but admire her. She looks gorgeous, and you tell her so.

"Aw, thank you, babes!" She cups your face lightly in her hands and gives you a butterfly kiss with her eyelashes so as not to mess up your makeup. You carefully step into your dress, and Chrissy helps you zipper it; you feel a little sheepish as you look in the mirror, especially with just a tiny, lacy pair of underwear and no bra underneath, but Chrissy squeezes your shoulders reassuringly. "You look so amazing, y/n. This dress is incredible. I'm honestly a little jealous."

"Chris!" you exclaim, spinning to face her incredulously. "Don't even. You are a stone-cold fox. I'm serious— that dress was, like, made for you."

Chrissy beams, blue eyes shining as you flatter her. She drops a quick kiss on your bare shoulder as you examine yourself in the mirror, a small smile blooming as you accept the truth of your friend's words, truly believing them.

You do look amazing.

Your dress is satin, mid-length, with a long slit high up the side to the top of your thigh, revealing a sensual glimpse of your leg. The straps are tiny and thin, and there's a cutout beneath the bust, so it doesn't look right if you wear a bra. But your breasts sit nicely in it; there's enough support to keep you from sagging, and they look plump and natural. The color is a rich cream, like indulgent milk and honey. And, best of all, the dress fits you right— it drapes across your tummy and hips, hugging without clinging. There's no mistaking the wideness of your hips or the softness of your belly in this, but you don't feel fat. 

You feel like Aphrodite. You feel like a goddess.

And you feel even more like one when you and Chrissy emerge from the bathroom, and you come face-to-face with Steve as he turns, futzing with the hem of his short-sleeved blue linen shirt. He's wearing tailored khakis, and his hair is coiffed nicely, but what pleases you the most is how you see the moment his pupils dilate when he lifts his head to see your new dress for the first time.

His eyes drag over the length of your body, lingering in all the right spots, and you feel a little smug as he stutters hoarse nonsense before he can gather himself.

"See?" Chrissy says sweetly, and you glance to see her stepping into her stilettos, leaning on Eddie's shoulder for support. "Told you you look hot."

You don't let your eyes linger on black and white, but a flash is all you need to have your heart thumping. Because, even in Miami, Eddie just can't help himself: he's dressed in another white shirt, though this one is looser and thinner, unbuttoned halfway down his torso to reveal his guitar pick necklace and the dark ink of his chest. His black jeans are tight, his dark boots are chunky, and his rings, bracelet, and chains are the same as they always are. But his hair is, again, pulled into that ponytail. The one you'd told him you found sexy.

Considering whether Eddie had styled his hair this way because of you— or even for you— threatens to disturb the peat you'd so carefully mounded around your growth to protect it, so you pointedly avoid the thought.

Steve's hands find your waist, and you look up into his hazel eyes as he murmurs, "Baby, you look so fucking hot right now. Like…" he chuckles almost incredulously. "Holy fuck. Are you sure we have to go out tonight? Can't I just keep you here and fuck you senseless instead?"

"Steve!" you whisper, slapping his arm and flushing as your eyes dart to the couple beside you. Steve isn't talking very loudly, but for some reason, the idea of them overhearing his lascivious commentary makes you feel squirmy. But Chrissy just chuckles, hooking her thumb through the belt loop on Eddie's black jeans. 

"I mean," she says lowly, eyebrow tugging up suggestively. "We don't have to—"

"No," you interrupt firmly, though your expression is more entreating than commanding. "This is our one night in Miami. We're going."

"All right, all right," Steve chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to your cheek. "We'll go." He grins at you.

"I was promised dancing," you remind him, not quite pouting.

Eddie chimes in then, for the first time this evening. "Then dancing you will have," he says, and when your eyes dart to his and his mouth tilts in a little crooked grin, you smile back. 

And if some of the dirt shifts to reveal a bit of green or a peek of white flowers, well, could it really be helped?

-

The club Steve and Chrissy chose— picked while they were waiting for you and Eddie to return from your beach walk— seems to provide all the best Miami offers. It's saturated with fractal lighting in modern shapes and colors, deep purples, mauves, and bright golds that crisscross the floors. The effect is nearly dizzying but also entirely stunning, like you've been transported into a cocaine-laden dream. You see that the dance floor is teeming with motion as you shuffle past the bouncers, daisy-chained by your hands to carve a path to the bar. Steve hands you a vodka soda before you've even asked, and you and Chrissy start to suck your drinks down while Eddie and Steve retrieve theirs, eyes scanning the writhing crowd. The bass is pumping, and even without any alcohol yet to hit your bloodstream, you're feeling amped up by the atmosphere of the place. You and Chrissy half-shout your conversation into each others' ears as you wait for the guys to get their drinks.

When Steve's hand finds its place on your hip, you and Chrissy enact your plan: you drag the men to the edge of the dance floor, hips wiggling to a mix of standard club beats interspersed with some hip hop and Urbano. The place is packed, but you form a little four-square together, holding your own against the crowds as you dance and drink. Well, that is, you and Chrissy dance, and Steve does some approximation of dancing, and Eddie mostly stands still, head bobbing as he sips his bourbon. 

Chrissy seems used to Eddie's lack of movement; she dances around him, wiggling her ass against him or drawing her hand across his shoulder as she struts in the tiny square you've formed between you. You are perfectly content to dance alone or with your other two partners; you throw your hands up, sway together with Steve, or dance closely with Chrissy when she saunters your way. You feel buoyant and gleeful as you and Chrissy squeal, joining hands during Maneater by Nelly Furtado, singing it to each other as your men watch you with affection and amusement. This moment— surrounded by your close friends and your boyfriend, loose from drinks, effusive from dancing, comfortable in the knowledge that you look amazing— is what you'd been looking for when you first thought about taking this vacation. 

It feels just as good as you'd hoped it would be.

It doesn't take long for you to feel both a little drunk and a little hot; though the club is indoors, it's humid from the climate and the press of bodies around you, and you feel yourself growing dewy with sweat. When Steve notices you fanning your neck, he offers to take you back to the bar. Chrissy and Eddie follow, too, happy for the respite and a chance for another drink. 

As you sip on a small cup of water, Chrissy's sudden exclamation nearly startles you. "Oh, my God! I can't believe I almost forgot— see that spot over there? Kind of close to the staircase, where the rope is?" You all crane your necks to see where she's pointing. When you look back, she's nearly vibrating with excitement. "I saw on Instagram that if you hang over there, the club promoters may invite you to dance on the stage behind the DJ! And then we could end up in their photos or videos! Can you imagine?!"

You glance over to the spot she's indicated again as Steve replies. "That is pretty sick, Chris. Are you saying you wanna go over there?"

She shrugs, blue eyes wide and shiny. "I mean, it couldn't hurt, right?" She looks around the group, and when her eyes catch yours, you nod your agreement. The idea of dancing on stage does intimidate you a little. But if you're surrounded by Steve, Chrissy, and Eddie, then that might be fun. It would certainly be an experience you've never had before, and then you could say you danced on stage at a Miami nightclub. You catch some of Chrissy's excitement as she beams widely, clutching Eddie and Steve's forearms in eagerness as she taps her stilettos on the ground. "Ah! Okay! Let's go!"

Chrissy's dainty fingers close around your wrist, pulling you forward. You reach back blindly for the next person in the chain, fingers stretching until they make contact with a broad palm. But where you expect softness, you instead encounter roughness, and a quick wide-eyed glance back has you realizing that the hand you've grabbed is pale, wrist adorned with a silver chain bracelet. 

You suppress the flutters that threaten to burst when you realize that you're again holding Eddie's hand. His fingers tighten around yours, gripping a little harder as Chrissy carves a determined path through the crowd on the dancefloor, heading in a diagonal for the spot near the stairs. You remind yourself that his grip is tight to ensure you don't get separated— and, plus, his girlfriend, your friend, has your other wrist in her grasp. Get ahold of yourself. You suppress a sigh of relief when you finally reach the stairs and you can pull gently from both of their grips.

You can't deny that despite being somewhat excited about the prospect of dancing on the DJ stage, you are skeptical that it will actually happen. Yet Chrissy is gorgeous, eye-catching in her sharp eyeliner and her bright orange dress; Steve is handsome, broad and tan with artfully-tousled hair and a charming smile; and Eddie is captivating, statuesque with his pale quartz skin, alluring with those dark eyes, the roguish ponytail, and his inky body armor.

So, really, you should have known better.

You've only been dancing in Chrissy's chosen spot for about twenty minutes when a man with a shaved head, wearing a black blazer fitted with a leopard-print pocket square, approaches your group. He's quite a bit shorter than Steve and Eddie, but he exudes top-dog energy as he smirks at Chrissy. "Hey," he says smoothly, eyes darting around the group, landing briefly on all of you. Well, almost all of you. Your stomach swoops slightly as that familiar feeling creeps up your neck, prickling hot along your skin. Because you can't help but notice that the promoter's eyes skip you over, almost as if you aren't even standing there. 

His gaze lands, somewhat unsurprisingly, on Chrissy. He nods his chin toward the staircase, smirking slightly. "You interested in dancing on stage?"

Despite the squirmy feeling building low in your belly, you can't help but smile at the radiant enthusiasm that fills Chrissy's face, shining in her bright blue eyes. "Oh, my gosh! Really?" Her voice is powdery-soft, and the way she beams when he nods is so sweet that you feel genuinely happy for her. Her eager eyes dart to Eddie next, and the promoter's gaze follows. 

"How about you, guy?" He asks, but Eddie shakes his head, falling back onto one hip.

"Nah, man," he replies, lips quirked in a small sardonic grin. "I don't dance." He glances at Chrissy. "You should go, though, Chris." 

You see Chrissy pout for the briefest second, but she gets over it quickly, too excited to dwell on Eddie's denial. The promoter unhooks and lifts the velvet rope at the base of the staircase, holding out a hand so Chrissy can climb up onto the bottom step. 

That prickling heat, that low squirm of self-consciousness in your belly, is nearly gone as you anticipate the moment being over. But the promoter doesn't replace the rope. Instead, for the first time, you watch his eyes quickly flick you up and down.

You try to suppress the self-consciousness that rises automatically— try to keep yourself from reading the promoter's face to quickly assess his reaction. But you can't help it; you read it anyway. You always do. 

And there is no reaction that you can discern— no twitch of a brow or a lip, no change to the glint of his eyes. But what this man does is almost worse than if he'd made a face. After glancing you up and down, the promoter turns immediately to Steve on your left, asking, "You wanna join her?"

His utter dismissal couldn't be any more obvious to you than if he'd spit in your face.

Entirely oblivious to the subtext of the promoter's interaction— or lack thereof— with you, Steve grins broadly, running a hand through the length of his tousled brown hair. "Yeah, sure," he says smoothly, beginning to join Chrissy on the stairs. On the second step, Steve glances back, frowning as he notices you aren't following. "Wait—"

You cut him off quickly, desperate to avoid any risk of Steve asking why you aren't coming with him. Though the promoter utterly ignoring you is bad enough, forcing a conversation about it would be unbearable. "No, it's okay, Steve. I'll stay with Eddie." You're firm but not tense; you smile brightly to show you're not upset.

And Steve, God love him… in this moment, you're grateful that your boyfriend is such an uncomplicated man. "Are you sure?" Steve's hazel eyes are still hesitant, but you can tell he's on the cusp of conceding. You just need to sell it— that you're not in any way sore about him going to dance on the DJ stage without you.

"Yes!" you exclaim, smile widening, voice earnest. "Go have fun!"

"Okay, babe." Steve smiles back— lopsided, relieved. He walks back down to the two steps so he can say goodbye. "See you in, like, an hour?"

"Sounds perfect," you say decisively, leaning in so Steve can kiss you briefly. You hear the click of the fastener and feel the brush of the velvet against your belly as the promoter replaces the rope then, separating you and Steve.

You wave as you watch him and Chrissy ascend the stairs, eyes deliberately avoiding the promoter as he settles into the corner against the wall. But once they disappear, there's nothing to distract you from the reminder of his dismissal. And you feel it threatening again— that prickling self-consciousness, the low squirm of something approaching shame. 

Quickly, you turn to Eddie. "Can we get another drink?" you ask him, and as he nods mutely, you lead the way back to the bar. 

You skirt along the edge of the dance floor rather than cutting through the middle as Chrissy had, trusting Eddie to keep up with you. When you hover at the corner of the floor closest to the bar, unwilling to elbow your way to the counter, you look for Eddie then. His features are even more intense than usual in the dramatic lighting; his shoulders are set, and so is his jaw as he stops a short distance from you, staring down into your face. As the lighting shifts, you realize Eddie's brow is lightly furrowed, and his dark eyes are unreadable, not warm like they usually are. 

Something is off with Eddie. He hadn't been overjoyed when you were all dancing together, but he'd seemed content. Nothing like he is now— coiled tight as if he's reigning something in. It makes you worried.

When your eyes dart away and return to see his stare hasn't wavered, you ask quietly, "Hey, are you… are you mad or something?"

"No, I'm not mad." There is no hesitation in Eddie's quiet answer, and some of your worry eases. But when he glances away and you see a muscle in his jaw twitching, you realize he isn't done speaking. It takes him a moment, but Eddie eventually looks back at you, voice carefully neutral. "He should have stayed with you."

You frown. "I told him to go," you point out, more puzzled as Eddie's expression doesn't change.

"I know," Eddie says quietly. And the way his intense gaze is piercing you… for the first time in a long time, you have to look away from him.

You hear him sigh as you distract yourself by watching people dance, eyes running over writhing bodies. "You want a drink, right?"

You glance back to find the intensity in Eddie's stare has softened now. "Yeah," you reply, grateful for the change of subject.

"What do you want me to get you?"

You consider another vodka soda, but find you're in the mood for something different. "Um… Sex on the Beach?" you ask, blinking innocently as you watch a smirk curl at the edges of Eddie's full lips. 

His smoke voice is smooth and exaggeratedly sensual as Eddie sways toward you, eyes locked on yours. "I mean, sure, sweet girl. But what do you want to drink?"

"Eddie!" Your face flushes bright red, heat prickling in your cheeks as he laughs huskily. You slap his chest lightly before crossing your arms under your breasts; you're squirming from his teasing, but you can't help the low flutters that awaken at the thought of having sex with Eddie on the beach. Or even in the ocean, in that position he'd held you in this morning— arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs wrapped around his narrow hips, no swim trunks or bikini bottoms separating his warm skin from yours…

Stop it! You chastise yourself, huffing, glaring until Eddie stops laughing. "Sorry," he says wolfishly, not looking the least bit sorry about it. "Couldn't resist."

"Hmph." You level him with one last unimpressed look before he gently takes your wrist.

"Come on," he says, lips tilting fondly. "Stay close to me."

You follow Eddie closer to the bar, hovering near his back as he orders you the drink you'd requested and another bourbon for himself. You carry your drinks to the edge of the dance floor, standing near one another as you sip the fruity alcohol. After just the first sip, it's already so much better than your typical vodka sodas that you question why you'd never tried it before. In fact, you may never go back to vodka sodas now that you've tasted the allure of orange and cranberry with your vodka. 

When your drink is half-gone, and your head is starting to get a little fuzzy, and the sight of bodies dancing is no longer an adequate distraction, you find your thoughts drifting back to what Eddie had said. But… you made Steve go without you. You'd basically forced him to. Right? You find yourself lightly chewing on your lower lip, thumb rubbing absently against the cold glass cradled in your hands. Eddie was there. He'd heard the whole conversation, and when you pointed out that you'd told Steve to go, he'd just said, 'I know.' What was he implying? That you should've asked Steve to stay with you, to give up his fun just because you weren't going with him? 

Is that really fair of you to expect Steve to sacrifice his chance on stage for you? The idea that you could have forced the issue— pouted or begged Steve to stay— makes you feel selfish.

But maybe that's not Eddie's point. He hadn't said, 'You should have asked him to stay with you;' he'd said, "He should have stayed with you." You suddenly realize what Eddie was really trying to communicate: that Steve should have chosen to stay with you. A crease forms between your brows as that realization settles heavily upon you. It begins to coil around your ribcage, squeezing you tight as you find yourself considering a dangerous question.

Would Eddie have stayed with me?

And you find, as the thought pops into your head, that you already know the answer.

You haven't quite noticed the tension overtaking your body until Eddie's hand brushes lightly against your upper back; you flinch, wide eyes darting to his face. "Sorry," he says, withdrawing his hand immediately, and you reassure him quickly.

"No, it's fine. I was just…" you don't have an adequate explanation for what you were doing, so you just trail off, eyes darting back to your drink.

"Do you wanna go dance?"

You purse your lips as you look out at the undulating crowd, the crush of unfamiliar bodies. "Um…" you hedge, but finally admit, "Not really. I don't really wanna dance by myself."

Your eyes flash to Eddie's face as he replies, "I'll dance with you."

"Really?" you blurt. "I thought you said you don't dance."

Eddie chuckles lightly. "I don't. Not usually. But the Latin stuff is pretty good."

You assess his pleasantly neutral expression, the warmth that has returned to his brown eyes. And you read something there— in the way his gaze flicks away and back to yours, brows tugging up, mouth tilting a little further. You could be wrong, but you get the impression that despite Eddie's reasoning, he's only offering to dance because he'd noticed you were in your head. 

He's only doing it for you.

Your smile is genuine, blooming tiny on your face. "Okay," you say softly, and Eddie grins in earnest, leading the way into the crowd. 

Luckily for Eddie, the set seems to be leaning more Urbano now, and the quick mambo beat of Rosalia's Despacha is the perfect remedy for that heaviness shrouding you. You face Eddie, swaying your shoulders and hips, dancing in some approximation of a mambo as you step forward and back to the beat. Eddie gamely starts to sway, too, and you beam as you watch him make an attempt. A little self-conscious flush blooms high on his cheeks as you watch him.

"What?" he questions you defiantly, though it's softened by the self-deprecating grin tugging at his lips. "Didn't you promise to be nice? Remember, your nickname is on the line—"

"I am being nice!" you protest, voice high and giddy with mirth and excitement that Eddie is actually dancing with you. "I'm just happy. Am I not allowed to be happy?" you add plainly.

Eddie's wide grin transforms. "Of course you are," he replies, and the gentle smoke of his voice has you taking a deep, bracing breath to ward off the flutters.

"Good," you huff teasingly, trying to keep the mood between you light. "Then let me watch you dance."

He laughs, husky and full. "All right," he concedes.

And you do— you watch Eddie dance for a while, secretly delighted as he starts to move his shoulders and hips, a little tentatively at first, and then more boldly once his bourbon and your Sex on the Beach are gone. Briefly, you leave your spot to discard them on a nearby table before heading back to the dance floor together.

But when you resume your positions— facing each other with a respectful distance in between— you feel a sudden presence behind you, different from the slight brush of other dancing people. This person is facing you directly; pants rasp against your ass as his broad warmth presses boldly to you, and you're washed by the unfamiliar scent of cheap cologne as hands grasp at your body, one landing high on your waist and the other low on your hip.

You freeze immediately, heart racing, wide eyes darting helplessly to Eddie's face as his gaze flickers between you and whoever this stranger is behind you. In a split second, he's closing the gap between you, face contorted in a frown as you tug from the stranger's grasp to meet him. Eddie's arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you against him, and your instant panic eases. You breathe in smoke and apples, letting Eddie’s scent comfort you, distract you from the unexpected violation of a stranger's unwanted hands on your body. Eddie is clearly uneasy, muscles corded and taut as he stands still, holding you against him for a tense moment until you feel him start to relax.

"Is he gone?" you ask timidly, nose skimming Eddie's throat as you peek at his face.

"Yeah, he's gone." His chest rumbles against yours, and you sigh, relief flooding you as you relax into Eddie's grip. "Um…" You can see him swallow, eyes locked on the pale column of his throat as he pauses before saying haltingly, "Maybe I should, like, stay closer to you. I don't want that to happen to you again."

You shudder a breath, wings fluttering at the thought of dancing— really dancing— with Eddie. "Yeah," you say, voice small. "Yeah, I agree."

His arm loosens so you can turn. The warmth of Eddie's body radiates against your back, brushing just slightly as you start to dance again. As the club beat eases into another Latin hip-hop song, and the relaxed fuzz from the alcohol settles again in your limbs, you sway your hips, feeling Eddie move against you with little teasing brushes of his rough jeans and his loose white shirt. You shift a little closer, pressing lightly back to feel more of him— not too much, just enough to keep constant contact between you. It grounds you, offering comfort in the form of his presence. And he seems to be adapting much better like this— without your eyes on him, he moves more fluidly, and he seems to have more rhythm with these Latin songs than he did with his striptease to Pony . Maybe he was telling the truth about liking the Latin songs more, you think, a tiny smile crossing your lips as you settle into the music again.

And as you dance with Eddie, you grow used to the feeling of his body moving behind you, so that your mind starts to wander. And turned away from him, without his face to look at, your eyes drift to the people around you. To all the women in their tiny mini-dresses, their tanned legs so thin and shapely in their giant heels. To their little waists and their lithe arms, just like Chrissy. You don't want to, but you go there, back to when the club promoter's eyes flicked over you, assessing your body and finding it lacking.

Not trim enough. Not thin enough. Not pretty enough.

It's not what you want to be thinking about right now. You want to be enjoying yourself, dancing in a Miami nightclub with a treasured person. But once the thought wriggles back into your brain, there's no shaking it; you can't stop dwelling on it.

You can never help yourself when it comes to this.

Your rhythm falters; you lose the beat, and Eddie's smoky voice is quick in your ear. "What is it? What's wrong?"

You stop dancing to turn in Eddie's arms and face him. Almost as if it's automatic, his hands settle lightly on your waist, and you drape your arms over his shoulders— not holding tight, just resting there. Your mouth twists as you consider how the memory of that man's appraisal has begun to eat you up inside, devouring all the happiness you'd found here tonight. And Eddie's brown eyes are warm, and his expression is receptive. He never judges you; he's so kind. And he always tries to help you. He always does.

So you tell him what's wrong.

"I just… was thinking about the club promoter," you say quietly, speaking to Eddie's chest; you can't quite meet his eyes. "How he barely even looked at me, almost like I didn't exist to him. Well," you chuckle breathlessly, a little uncomfortable. "I obviously know why he didn't, like, ask me to go on stage. I mean—" You glance down your body before your eyes land back on Eddie's chest. "I'm not exactly… you know…" You swallow against the lump in your throat, pushing the words out, hoping that by voicing them, they'll have less power. "I'm not as small as the other girls—"

Eddie cuts you off, and your eyes snap to his face to see his brown eyes wide and incredulous. "Are you fuckin' kidding me?" He sounds utterly baffled. Utterly disbelieving. "You're… you're so beautiful. Sexy as hell, I swear to Christ." He chuckles his disbelief as you look up at him hesitantly, face still angled down. When he sees you haven’t responded, Eddie frowns; his hand leaves your waist to gently but firmly lift your chin. "Listen, sweetheart. Don't worry about that guy. That guy's probably never been with a beautiful woman in his life. Never even touched one, I bet. Probably has a shriveled little baby carrot dick."

You wrinkle your nose, half-amused, half-disgusted by the crudeness of his final remark. Eddie laughs at himself, shaking his head slightly as he ducks closer to your ear to mutter, "Sorry, but if I'm totally honest, I'm only half-checked in to what I'm saying right now 'cause I'm distracted." 

You try not to think about how warm his breath is against your ear. "Distracted by what?" 

"By trying not to pop a boner with you dancing on me, sweetheart." 

You pull your head back to stare at him incredulously, a little awkward giggle escaping your lips. And it must be clear that you don't believe him because Eddie's eyebrows flick up, and his expression shifts slightly.

"I'm serious," Eddie argues through a chuckle. "What, you think I'm joking?" Carefully, he presses his hips closer so you can feel him. And your eyes widen slightly as you do, proving how Eddie really wasn't kidding. How he's a little stiff behind the thick black denim of his jeans. 

"Oh, my God," you mutter, cheeks flushing as you purse your lips against a bashful smile. 

"See?" Eddie says, lightly teasing, but quieter now. "Told you." 

And now that his point has been made, it's the right time for Eddie to move away. But Eddie doesn't move away. And the press of Eddie's pelvis against you feels good. And he just told you that you're beautiful and sexy, and the smoke of those words is settling inside you, filling you rich and heady. And the song that's just begun is slower, more sensual than the ones before. Alluring, drawing you in, just like the brown of those beautiful eyes, the dark curls framing his pale quartz face.

Gradually, Eddie's black and his white draw you in until, almost by instinct, you start to sway your hips against his.

You feel Eddie's chest expand in a deep breath as you move against him. But, though he tenses for a split second, he still doesn't draw back. Instead, Eddie's leg shifts, slotting between yours as he starts to move with you.

The feeling of Eddie's warm body is even more tantalizing like this, facing him. You relish the feeling of his hands on your hips, fingers resting lightly as you sway together, hips rocking in rhythm with the music. You notice the tickle of his loose shirt against your chest, your breasts brushing against the fabric through sheer satin as you dance. You listen to the song: ‘Pasa el día con él, yo soy tu gato de noche.’ You don't know what it means, but your blood is heating, belly fluttering low as Eddie presses close to you— a novel feeling through your clothes and his, out here in public rather than in the security of your bedroom. And you can feel the other people around you, bodies moving, grazing lightly against yours as the space packs in. You release a breath and wonder if it tickled the sliver of his bare chest when you feel Eddie's fingers twitch on your hips.

His voice is hoarse as he mutters against your forehead. "Can I touch you more?"

"Please," you breathe, and the word is nearly a sigh of relief as Eddie's hands drag across the satin of your dress, smoothing over the small of your back. Your arms tighten around his shoulders as you press yourself closer, breasts now tight to his chest, skin sticking together where his shirt is open. The thought strikes you suddenly that Eddie is a little sweaty— you can see his hairline is damp, and his hands feel warmer than usual, damp as they drag up silk to find the skin of your back. And the impulse strikes you suddenly: the desire to lick up the center of Eddie’s chest, to drag your tongue along the ink of his armor and taste the salt on his skin. Your pussy pulses, moth wings fluttering low as you imagine it. 

As you do, inevitably, the other emotions reemerge. Trepidation. Fear. Concern for Steve's anger. Guilt over the intentionality of breaking another rule. But Eddie's hands are so tender as they rasp over your skin, and you feel so safe in his arms. And you're in the middle of this writhing crowd, cloaked in anonymity and alcohol and neon lights and sensual music. And when you press your hands to Eddie's back, dragging them up his neck until your fingers tease at the edge of his hairline— the green reemerges from your protective mound of soil, flowers quivering, moth wings fluttering with a deep and powerful yearning. One that can no longer be suppressed. 

One that surges up from the bottom of you.

Your face draws back, angling up at the same moment that Eddie's tips down. And you get only a glimpse of those brown eyes burnished to deep amber, a flash of white teeth behind full pink lips as he begins to rasp, "Can I k—?"

His words are cut off as you pull him by the back of his neck into a desperate kiss.

Eddie deepens the kiss immediately, and the brush of his tongue into your open mouth is sheer blissful relief. You moan against his lips, a little pathetic mewl that makes you rush hot with embarrassment that you'd make that sound in public. But it just spurs Eddie on; his arms haul you flush against his body as his tongue dips insistently past your lips. You taste him back, lips pressing hard as bourbon and spice fill your mouth. And somewhere in the midst of this, you've stopped dancing, and so has he, though his hands are still roving over your back, grasping at you with a desperation that matches your own. 

As you lick into his mouth, the little sound Eddie makes has you shuddering, goosebumps rushing over your skin despite the heat of the dance floor. Your heart is pounding, pussy throbbing in time; and it's so utterly wanton, but Eddie's leg is still between yours, so purely by instinct, your hips twitch, dragging yourself in a little jerk against the roughness of his jeans. 

Flutters burst low, mixing with arousal as Eddie bends you back, hands dragging firmly down to grab your ass and press your hips against him. And that— your hips twitching, Eddie's hands on your ass— is what brings you back to yourself. You become suddenly cognizant that you're currently in public, basically dry-humping this man who is not your boyfriend on the dance floor.

The realization douses you like ice water, and you pull your mouth from Eddie's with a little gasp, eyes wide, cheeks flushed. Your chest is still heaving into his, and the breath that puffs against your lips still makes you flutter, but your face is creased with hesitance now. Eddie registers the shift immediately, pulling you out of the bend, though his arms still hold you close. He's breathing hard, cheeks lightly flushed as the warm brown of his eyes meets your gaze.

"Eddie," you whisper, voice soft and regretful. "We shouldn't. Not while we're alone."

And you half–expect a bit of Eddie's black to show, for him to guard himself in a wolfish grin and joke to break the tension.

But Eddie shudders a deep breath, almost a sigh, and you see his adam's apple bob in a thick swallow. "You're right," he says quietly. "I'm sorry."

And you hate to see how those beautiful brown eyes cloud, how those full pink lips, now swollen from your kisses, turn down at the corners. Your brow tugs up as you soothe your hand softly against Eddie's cheek. "Don't be sorry," you say softly, tenderly tucking some of the short curls that brush his jaw behind his ear. 

Eddie's eyes are molten as he leans in, and your lashes flutter as he kisses your cheek, lips warm as they linger there. And though it's long been there, the growth at the bottom of you, it's the first time that you truly feel it— the unfurling of your petals, the quivering of your leaves as Eddie holds you close and presses a chaste kiss to your cheek.

And you admit now that it's fruitless to try to convince yourself it doesn't matter how you feel about Eddie. Because you know it does. You know it.

–

You're on the beach. The sand is cold now, and the ocean is a black, churning mass, nearly indistinguishable from the night sky. The breeze is no longer balmy; instead, it chills you, cutting straight through your milk and honey satin. Arms cradle you from behind, partially shielding you from the sting as they hold you against a firm body. Your hands rest perfunctorily on the forearms encircling your waist, and your head is tipped back against the chest behind you. Citrus and sea salt lingers in your nose.

You're waiting for the fireworks to begin.

Chrissy's stilettos are loose. One of them tipped over when she dug her toes into the fine sand, and you stare at them to avoid looking at the couple beside you. You feel the rise and fall of Steve's chest as he breathes behind you. You feel the warmth from his body along the length of your spine. 

You feel the tilt of your green as it strives, reaching, searching for smoke and ink.

Your eyes are drawn to the sky with the first whistle and pop. Big and small, circular and narrow, red, pink, and orange arches— colors burst against the darkness in a rain of sparks that fizzle toward the water. It's enchanting, a stunning display of corporeal magic.

You're no longer watching it.

Instead, your eyes are fixed on black and white. 

Chrissy's arms are around his waist, clinging to him tightly, her back turned to you as she rests her cheek against his chest. Eddie's chin is on top of Chrissy's head, and his eyes are turned up to the sky. You can see the reflection of the fireworks in Eddie's eyes, and this is how you watch the show.

You can't help but notice that Eddie looks pensive. Melancholy, almost, as he watches the magic show. You think of his fingers squeezing yours gently, deliberately, as you listened to that song, walking together along the beach. You think of the tightness in his jaw when he told you Steve should have stayed with you at the club. You think of the dullness in his brown eyes when he apologized for kissing you, for breaking the first rule.

A flick and Eddie's dark eyes no longer reflect the colors in the sky. Instead, they're caught on yours, staring back as you watch him. And when you see it— the intensity of his gaze, the same intensity that your eyes had darted from earlier— you no longer look away.

The light show ends. A smooth voice behind your head asks, "Do you guys wanna head back to the hotel now?"

You are the first to speak. "Yes."

#tkym #blueywrites #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #chrissy cunningham

[nights-legacy]

Body Snatched - Present Mic (platonic)

Masterlist ~ MHA Masterlist ~ #2

Body Snatched Masterlist

2083 words

Warnings: unwanted touching, attempted assault, language, violence (let me know please if any need added)

+ Y/N may not go to UA, but somehow, they still ended up having to deal with Mineta’s tyranny of pervertedness. Hizashi is very protective of his younger sibling to the point where they would do anything to keep them safe. When it’s brought to his attention that they might be in danger, the happy go lucky voice hero is gone. It doesn’t help that Y/N’s best friend and crush got pulled into the fray either.

You are the little sister of Present Mic. He was 15 when you were born. Of course you had a quirk that involved your voice as well. You had a siren quirk. You were not enrolled in UA but visited your brother often. You happen to catch the attention of someone that you really wish you hadn't. You and your best guy friend, Ren, were visiting your brother at UA one day when Ren wandered off. He somehow found himself in the middle of an altercation between Mineta & a 3rd year. He accidentally got switched with Mineta and the 3rd year realized what happened and tried to switch the back but Mineta was quick to leave in Ren's body.

~

Y/N's POV

"Where did he go?" I muttered as I walked down the halls. Ren had disappeared some time ago while I was talking with Hizashi. I peeked into empty classrooms but was having no luck in finding the long haired boy.

"Found him yet?" Hizashi came up behind me. I shook my head.

"He normally doesn't go far since he doesn't know the campus. I'm getting worried." I began to bite my thumb nail anxiously.

"Hey, it'll be okay. He's in a school full of hero students and Heroes. I think this is the safest spot to get lost in." He pulled me into a side hug. I chuckled. Ren had a merman quirk and got distracted sometimes, but he was smart, and I knew how to avoid trouble.

"You're right." He smiled before a teasing glint came across his eyes.

"Don't worry. We'll find your boyfriend." He poked my side. I gasped before punching his arm.

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"But you wish he was." I could feel my face burning red. Luckily, the sound of Ren yelling my name turned our attention.

"Y/N! Hey!" I saw the dark to light blue ombre head of hair running our way. "Sorry for disappearing. I got turned around."

"That's alright. Are you ready to go?" I asked. He nodded, light reflecting off the scales around his face. "Alright. See you later, Zashi."

"Bye kiddo." He waved as we Walked away. It was silent until we got to the gate.

"You’re still coming over?" I asked.

"Of course." He smiled. I readjusted my bag on my shoulder. "Here. Let me take that." He pulled the bag from my shoulder.

"Oh, thanks." We made small talk until we got to my house.

3rd POV

While Y/N and Ren were walking home, the 3rd year and Mineta scrambled to find Present Mic. They found him just as he was going to his office.

"Present Mic-san!" The 3rd year exclaimed as they ran up.

"Oh no! Where is the fire?" He laughed. His expression soon dropped when he noticed they were extremely worried and almost panicked looks on their faces. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Present Mic-San. I was dealing with Mineta while he was bothering me. I ended up going to use my quirk on him and a bug but accidently hit Ren Hariko instead of the bug." Present Mic Stood there in shock. It came to him what they were trying to say.

"So, what you're saying is the boy that left with my sister is Mineta, and you're Ren Hariko?"

"Yes, sir." He said solemnly. Dread filled his chest.

"Go get Aizawa and let him know what's going on." He instructed the 3rd year. He looked at Min...Ren. "You and I are going after them."

"Yes sir!" The 3rd year took off.

"Come on." Present Mic started walking quickly, pulling out his phone. He pulled up Y/N's contact. "Pick up, pick up, pick up."

Y/N's POV

"Are your parents home?" Ren asked as we got inside.

"No. They're in the PI. Remember?" I said.

"Oh yeah. Sorry, slipped my mind." I chuckled. I turned and went to say something but didn't when I noticed him looking at me. The look in his eyes was something I couldn't place as he looked me over.

"Ren?" I called out. He met my eyes. "You okay?"

"Yeah." His voice seemed to have gotten deeper. His eyes seemed to be glazed over as well. "Totally fine."

"Oookay..." I watched him for a moment more. "Come on." I began to walk towards my room. My phone was going off in my pocket. I pulled it out to see it was Hizashi. I rolled my eyes and threw my phone on my dresser. "Damn." I collapsed on my bed.

"Long day, wasn't it?"

"Yes." I sat up and looked at him. He was leaning against my door frame, arms crossed over his chest, and staring me down as if I were a piece of meat. His stare stirred something in my stomach and I can't tell if it was good or bad.

"Ya know... I know something that I can make the day better. Something distracting." He took a step forward and was almost stalking me. "Something pleasurable."

"What are you... okay enough with the joke. It's not funny." He chuckled before pouncing on me. I yelped as he got on top of me. I put my hands on his chest lightly pushing him away. "T-this isn't like you. Ren, please."

"Maybe you don't know me as well as you thought." He whispered before he surged forward and slammed his lips against mine. I gasped and he shoved his tongue in my mouth. I started to push against his chest and was finally able to get him off me with a hard shove.

"What the hell?" I gasped. I elbowed his chest and pushed him away. I heard the air leave his longs when my elbow hit his chest. I shimmied off the bed and turned to look at him. I wrapped my arms around myself. "What is wrong with you Ren?!"

"What? You don't want to have some fun?" He sat up with an annoyed look.

"Being forced into something isn't fun." I snapped with tears in my eyes. He rolled his eyes in response. "I think you should leave."

"What? Really?" He got to his feet. I nodded and turned to go into my bathroom. "How did this idiot deal with this prude?"

"Excuse me?" I froze after hearing those words. This idiot?

"What did you mean by that?"

"What?" He looked like a deer caught in headlights. I looked over at him with a glare.

"What did you mean by 'this idiot' just now? As if referring to yourself in third person. What is that all about?" I saw him gulp. His eyes turned to slits as he grew anxious and irritated. "Tell me."

"No, I don't have to tell you anything." He yelled before charging. He slammed into me. pinning me to the door jam of my bathroom.

The air was forced out my lungs and I couldn't even scream when he sunk his teeth into my shoulder. He began to fumble with my pants to get them off. I fought him as I fought to get my breath back. Once I get my breath back, I begin to sing. He froze in front of me. He backed up and stood in a daze.

"What did you mean?"

"I meant how could he deal with you because I am Mineta." He answered immediately and I blanched. Bile rose into my throat. I backed up into my bathroom.

"G-go stand by the desk and stay there." As he walked away, I slid down the wall. I hummed as I pulled my knees to my chest. I needed to call my brother, but I was frozen in my spot. I don't know when I zoned out, but I was knocked from my stumper when my door burst open.

"Y/N!" Hizashi was here.

"Zashi." I called softly. He turned toward my shaking figure. He quickly came over, and I reached for him.

"Please tell me you're alright." He whispered. I nodded as I hugged him tight. I was still humming as he pulled away. His eyes looked at the bite mark with concern but told him I'm alright. I pointed towards Mineta and he walked over. "You can release him."

"Okay." I sang the cut-off note, and Mineta woke up.

"What just ..."

"You were caught in a siren's song, Mineta." Hizashi snapped. Mineta flinched and gave my brother a sheepish smile.

"Present Mic! It's so funny to..."

"Zip it." Mineta shut up immediately. Aizawa suddenly entered the room with a third year I've seen around UA and Mineta's body behind him. Hizashi turned to the 3rd year. "Can you switch them back?"

"Of course." They ushered Mineta's body forward. Zashi came back to me, where I stayed in my spot in the bathroom. I just watched as the third year did something, and the two looked stunned for a moment. Mineta came back to first and tried to run. He didn't get far because he was grabbed by a crawled hand.

"You little pervert." Ren growled, eyes thinned into slits that were almost impossible to see. Hizashi pulled me to his side.

"Ren." Hizashi said firmly. Aizawa set a hand on his shoulder. Ren dropped Mineta after a few tense seconds. Hizashi pointed towards the third year before speaking. "Go with Tana and get checked out. Aizawa and I will take care of him and Y/N."

"Okay." Ren growled before going to leave. He paused when he saw me. There was a tension in the air that made me feel like I couldn't breathe. His eyes cast downward to my shoulder and he flinched. He began to approach me slowly.

"Ren, I don't think..." Zashi set his hand on my back. Ren paused.

"Right." He left quickly with the third year student.

"I hope you enjoyed your time at UA Alireza, because now it's over." Aizawa all but drug the boy out of my room. It became dead silent.

"Sis?" I burst out crying at just that. Gathering me in his arms, he pulled me from my bathroom and sat us both on the bed. I curled into a ball in his lap. I could feel him trying to comfort me but I was too distraught.

"What the hell just happened?!" I sobbed.

"Shh. Shh. That third year as a switch quirk. They can switch anything they want. They were trying to switch Mineta with a bug, but Ren turned the corner just as they were switching him. Mineta took off in Ren's body before they could switch the two back."

"Shit." I grumbled. I began to calm down as Zashi was petting my head.

"There we go." I heard the shake in his voice and looked up. There were tears in his eyes.

"Zashi?" I asked.

"You have never been threatened before in my whole hero career. And the first time is by one of my own students? It's, it's... it is troubling." I bit my lip as he covered his face with his hand. "And of all things he was going to ra..."

"Zashi..." I hugged him.

"You're my little sister and I don't want anything to happen to you." He kissed my head. "I want you to come stay with me until mom and dad come back."

"Okay but will Shota be okay with that?"

"I think I would be in trouble with him if I didn't insist you come stay with us." I chuckled through the tears. I went to pack a bag but he pulled me back down. I gave him a confused look. "Calm down a bit more and then we'll go get your shoulder cleaned up."

"Okay." I leant into his side again. I took some big breaths, effectively calming down. "I want to see Ren too."

"Of course." He nodded. He stood up. "I'm going to call mom and dad. When I come back, we'll do your shoulder."

"Good luck." He gave me a glare before kissing my head again.

"Love you."

"Love you too, kiddo."

Tag List: @lilparcheesie @dxnaii-rxse @iris-shihabi @cl0verbby @keigos-baby-bird

#imagine #imagines #my hero academia #mha x reader #mha #mha imagines #boku no hero academia #my hero academia imagines #bnha #bnha imagines #boku no hero x reader #boku no hero imagines #bnha present mic #mha present mic #yamada hizashi #my hero academia x reader #my hero x reader #present mic x reader #present mic #present mic x platonic reader #hizashi yamada x reader #mha hizashi #bnha hizashi #requested #body snatched series

[remixunderdacover]

Donnie X FemReader

Your in the New York gym before heading home just for a work out and some weight lifting. Donatello starts walking towards the direction of the sounds of lifting weights as he turns the corner and sees a person lifting weights, in a matter of fact a girl.

"Hey, i don't mean to intrude or anything, but i heard you lifting weights and i just wanted to make sure your form is ok, to avoid any... possible accidents later on." You look at him. "Ya actually can you spot me?" Your wearing short workout shorts and a tank top.

"Of course, no problem" He spots you, with a small smirk on his face, making sure not to do something wrong. "Alright, just be sure to continue breathing your doing very well" You lift the weights over your shoulders and slowly start pushing up. "Keep going, you got this... you got this... good job!"

Gives a thumbs up, with a slight chuckle. "Good job! Do you usually work out this heavily, or just today?" He now takes the chance to look at you. Your clothing choice, your breathing, athletic build. "This is usually the lifts I do. My names Y/n by the way" "My name is Donatello. Are you working out alone today then?"

Looks with a curious expression."Uhh…" You look around real quick. "looks like it." You shrug. "If you don't mind me asking, why do you work out? Are you doing it for anyone in particular? Like your health, or for maybe even a competition of sorts or are you doing it just because?"

"I like the accomplishing feeling once I finish my work outs." You begin wrapping your wrists and hands. "Yeah makes sense" He nods his head. "I’m more of a tech guy myself but my brothers and i have had our share of training."

Notices you wrapping your hands watching the technic your using. "Alright" puts hands behind his back. "I guess you should make sure your hands are wrapped tight. You wouldn't wanna slip up while you're in the middle of a rep or even worse, hurt yourself." "I agree. It only took one time when I forgot too."

Your face makes a painful face while approaching the punching bag. Donnie makes a ouch face. "I bet that didn’t feel pleasant" He walks with you to the punching bag. "Oh, you're into some boxing? Do you actually box, or are you just gonna do some basic punching to work your arms?

"I’m thinking some swings before I go back home I got the sweat I wanted." You bounce on your feet back and forth as you swing and hit the bag. "If I may… could I give you some tips to get it swinging a little easier for you?" He holds his hand to his chin in thought. You put your guard down. "Sure! Go ahead."

"Don’t take this the wrong way because your doing everything right! But if you angle your hips just acute more to the way your swinging it will boost your motive." You stand in your fighting stance and do as he says but your a little off. "Like this?" He squints his eyes.

"Ya but little more like this" He shows you again. You switch your position a little more. "Like that?" He huffs. "Is it ok if I touch you?" "What?!" "No no no! Of course not like that I just wanna get you to the right position." You smirk. "Dude that sounds dirty" You chuckle.

"You know what I mean!" His hand goes to his hip as his other motions what he’s trying to say. "Ok ok I’ll stop messing with you." He moves to your backside moving his hands around your hips adjusting you to stand and hold correctly even though it made you blush a little.

"You might have to work with it a bit before your contacts will get stronger but this will help." He stays back as he studied the position he put you in. You gently punch the bag doing your own thing and some of what he said. "Not bad!" You comment him being right.

Rolling your neck back and forth once finishing. You both made your way out of the gym. "We are to see each other again." You grabbed your bag. Donnie opened the entrance door for you. "Yeah either I’ll see you again here or I can convince my brothers to let you come down and train with us."

"Sounds good to me. I just gotta get a work day off and we can see each other again. Thank you by the way." "Hey no problem really, I will look forward to another." He digs first his T- phone. "Here… so we can get together… for next time." He blushes a little your his stammering and his sudden nerves of just the gesture of getting your number.

"Oh ya sure!" You both exchange numbers and part ways.

#tmnt #tmnt fandom #tmnt 2014 #tmnt bayverse #tmnt x reader #tmnt donnie #tmnt donatello #tmnt donnie x reader

[justanotherspeck]

s1 my beloved

transcript below the cut:

CASPAR: Anyway, this is Midnight Burger. I’m Caspar.

AVA (Outside): FUCK. YES.

CASPAR: That’s Ava, she’s always here.

AVA: (Outside) NICOTINE, GET IN ME.

CASPAR: And this is a... diner.

GLORIA: Are you sure?

--

CASPAR: The huge murder beast is having a coffee break

--

ZEBULON: For our marriage is made strong by a singular truth.

EFFIE: That divorce is an abomination.

ZEBULON: … And that we love each other very much.

EFFIE: Yes, also that.

--

THE EX: You can’t let that stand in the way of true love.

LEIF: Honey, you lay eggs.

THE EX: Why do you keep bringing that up?!

LEIF: It’s an important detail!

--

GLORIA: Do you ever feel like Leif is almost too relaxed? He goes with the flow no matter what, it’s weird.

AVA: Oh yeah? Watch this. Hey, Leif?

LEIF (In the kitchen): Yeah?

AVA: I’ve been thinking about it and, I don’t know, I still feel like a hot dog is a sandwich.

[POTS CRASHING.]

LEIF (In the kitchen): For fuck’s sake!

--

MARY: Can you help me?

CASPAR: What’s happening?

MARY: The officer outside, he’s been looking for me for days. I’ve managed to avoid him so far but now that’s him outside. Can you hide me somewhere? This desperate plea is brought to you by Arby’s. Arby’s, we have the meats.

---

LEIF: This Molotov Cocktail is brought to you by communism!

[BOTTLE SMASHING]

--

EFFIE: Yes, yes, of course. Our Lord is a God of peace.

ZEBULON: Indeed.

EFFIE: Unless you’re a merchant outside the temple, then look out for the chokehold of Jesus.

ZEBULON: Honey!

--

CASPAR: Ava, what are you doing?

AVA: I’m getting this jug of moonshine and going out in the parking lot to watch a fist fight. Suck on that, Stephen Hawking.

--

CASPAR: Oh, no. What are we going to do without all the essential work you do around here? Who will do the incredibly hard work of being an asshole to people?

AVA: That’s not work, that’s how I relax.

CASPAR: Well you must be really relaxed.

---

STEVE: We had come upon a binary star system. I looked upon these two stars rotating around their barycenter and my thoughts turned to my wife. We were like these two stars, locked into an eternal dance only due to chance and gravity, unable to recall a moment where we chose each other and unable to escape this rotation. Knowing that to move closer would obliterate us both.

CASPAR: This went from fun idea to Russian novel real fast.

--

STEVE: Hello, my friends. I am about to go on a date.

CASPAR: Yeah, we heard... uhhh nice work, buddy.

LEIF: Go get ‘em, tiger.

STEVE: I have no idea how to go on a date.

CASPAR: Oh.

LEIF: Shit, okay, uh...

CASPAR: Um... Ask her about her job.

LEIF: Yeah, her life in general.

CASPAR: Listen a lot.

LEIF: Don’t try and be funny.

CASPAR: Try sharing a secret with her.

LEIF: If she asks you to do something illegal, it may be a test.

CASPAR: What?

LEIF: Really gauge the situation at that point, is she kidding or does she actually want to do crimes?

CASPAR: What are you talking about?

LEIF: This is good advice.

CASPAR: Where, the Pirate Isle of Tortuga?

--

EFFIE: Caspar, thanks for being with us today.

CASPAR (Whispering): So great to be here, go fuck yourself.

--

CASPAR: Gloria, we’re going to have to go.

GLORIA: Oh, man. Okay. Guys, gather round.

[HEARTBREAKING MUSIC]

CASPAR: What the hell is that music?

[WOLVES WIMPERING]

GLORIA: V, Jungkook, Jimin, Suga, Jin, RM, J-Hope. I want you to know that I love you all very much. But I have my own pack, and I have to go run with them now.

EFFIE: (Fighting back tears) It’s... so hard to hear her say goodbye to the wolves.

ZEBULON (Also crying): I didn’t realize she named them after the members of BTS.

--

CASPAR: We should get one of those signs that says “This many days since an accident”.

LEIF: Yeah, except ours would say “This many days since your sentient radio quoted the Egyptian Book of the Dead, switched personalities, or steered you into a supermassive black hole.”

CASPAR: ...That’s way too long for a sign, Leif.

GLORIA: Yeah, Leif, that’s—

--

CASPAR: As a straight white male you know one thing about me: I’ve watched a lot of History Channel.

--

GLORIA: Okay, I’m thinking a chair, some rope, and I’ll pour hot coffee on her, let’s do some Guantanamo shit.

JANE (Overlapping): It’s no use, guys.

--

GLORIA: Did the doors to the diner just lock?

CASPAR: They did. Effie, what in the Amityville Horror is happening right now?

--

JANE: Does having you kidnapped maybe count as a romantic gesture at all?

--

CASPAR, narrating: In Ava’s defense, she was unilaterally putting everyone in danger... That doesn’t make it better, does it?

--

AVA: I am going to rip your balls off!

CASPAR: Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time.

#midnight burger #midnight burger podcast #podcast recommendation #i love them all so much #also #i finally figured out audio transitions #was not that hard #but also #this took me way longer than i thought #writing. voice acting. dynamics. all so good. #who else is doing is like midnight burger #i mean actually who is bc i need to know. none of my podcasts are updating/updating frequently and im losing it #lord knows if i'll do this for any other season tbh #i also was tempted to animate this but i ran into two problems: motivation and lack of skill #so it'll stay in my head lmao

[pitxroxas]

ive been writing for visionstars for funzies so heres some hcs

Tsukasa Suou: His hydro horse thingy is a mare and her name is Iris. Tsukasa could be a reverse childe, uses sword in normal combat and then mounted on Iris he switches to hydro bow bc why the hell not. (also bc he’s canonically good at mounted archery and theres a really cursed [!] era card for that + story) He’s from Fontaine and his family works under the Archon. They’re the head of the Archon’s defense for her and the region and Tsukasa is going to be the next general. Tsukasa is very fond of Inazuman treats (loovess dango milk). Also Tsukasa sleeps on Iris when they camp out

Arashi: Arashi is from Liyue and is a model in Liyue. Arashi may as well be related to Zhongli and may as well be an Adepti, but that isn’t confirmed :) (In Enstars Canon she has a big bro, maybe Xiao could be hers??) Arashi’s burst is similar in form with Zhongli’s (big object be hurled + stun) but instead of it being a big boom boom rock its a bunch of star-shaped shards of geo that skewer said enemy and explodes, giving stun. oh. and killing them. Arashi is also the mom of the group, completely against her will and its not certain to say she likes it or not.

Leo: Leo is a flaming piss weasel and that’s literally it (/j) he cannot control his powers whatsoever, so whenever he gets an emotional spurt of energy expect everything to be on fire. Fires comes out from him EVERYWHERE. It’s usually his hands within his control, his nose and maybe his mouth outside of control. Leo has totally made a claymore out of pyro and showed it to Ruka. Ruka was not pleased when half the kitchen was burned to shreds. He also is very good at woodworking (mostly the burning thingy) and sets wood on fire specifically to compose.. yippee!! Leo is also from Mondstat btw. Also, Leo’s burst is much like Yanfei’s, a birthday of music!! Boom boom!!

Izumi: Traveling model from Snezhnaya who would rather be home. He freezes everything because he hates everybody (actually just his insecurities talking) he’s like Elsa but if Elsa skipped therapy at any given moment. Izumi actually knew Leo when he went to Mond for a modeling gig and they became friends there and then never met again. Until now. Izumi is also hella good at ice skating and thats his entire fighting style. Skid skid boom deaded. Like op said, he works like yelan. I think his burst should just be a wall of ice. Defense!!! ahahah!!!!

Ritsu: Personally nobody knows where he’s from and no one is allowed to touch his vision (bc he said so) but everyone speculates Sumeru. Ritsu is not from Sumeru but I’ll keep you wondering. Ritsu sleeps on everything and everybody. One time he slept on Iris and Tsukasa has been angry since. (“How many times have I told you, Ritsu-Senpai!! Iris is not a pillow!!! You can’t sleep on her!!!”) (“But.. you do…”) (“Thats not the point!!!”) Ritsu has honestly found a great attraction to Arashi (in a platonic way) he sees her as a big sister and Arashi is sooooo validated by that. Ritsu’s burst may as well be something like Mona’s or Layla’s, a debuffer / debuffing field for the boss and a buff for the knights.

Unit: They do actually go around and sing and dance and they also go around and cause problems…. on accident?? Tsukasa and Arashi are usually damage control

They’ve actually set some important landmarks on fire.

Izumi has froze some people before and got away with it.

Despite their crimes, Knights is pretty popular for their music and choreography!! Also how they add elemental powers within their performances!! Except for Leo he isnt allowed.

and thats it for my visionstars hcs!!! Thank you so so SOO much @flcarius and your gf for the ideas that sparked the au!!! I love it so much that i. write. teehee :3

#enstars #ensemble stars #visionstars #visionstars hcs #enstars au #au #hcs #tsukasa suou #arashi narukami #izumi sena #ritsu sakuma #leo tsukinaga #enstars knights #knights enstars #genshin impact x ensemble stars #leo speaks #:3

[raaorqtpbpdy]

Why Do Scientists Wear Sensible Shoes?

For the Phic Phight prompt: Four years in the hospital, abandoned and in agony as his body slowly transformed, taught Vlad that ghostly purring only meant pain and suffering of the worst kind and an unhappy life did little to debase him of that notion. So when his newly emerged clone starts happy purring at him, Vlad promptly freaks the fuck out trying to figure out what's wrong with them— inadvertently teaching the clone that more purring means more attention from daddy. (from @reading-wanderer)

AO3 Link

[Warnings for dubious science, unstable clones, and major character death]

The last of Vlad's family, his mother, had died when he was seventeen, leaving him completely on his own when he went off to college. After the proto-portal accident, even his friends, Jack and Maddie, abandoned him. They left him to die, slowly, in agony, and unbearably alone, of horrible ecto-acne that slowly transformed his body, infected his blood, corrupted his soul, over the course of four years.

It was during those four years that he discovered ghostly purring, discovered that it meant only pain, the worst kind of suffering imaginable. It was supposed to self-soothe, to encourage healing, he determined. It wasn't a sound ghosts made when they were happy. And the unhappy life that followed his transformation did little to debase that notion.

He tried not to think about it much, but he did wonder, as he attempted to create a clone of another half-ghost like him, if he was bringing them into the world only to force them through the same suffering he experienced. Vlad shook his head and squared his shoulders. The anguish had come, not in simply being a half-ghost, but in dying slowly to become one.

A long beep sounded, and he hit the release button on the cloning chamber, now that the process was complete. This was his eleventh attempt. Attempts one through eight had dissolved into ectoplasm immediately upon release from their cloning chambers. Attempt nine had survived, but only the skeleton. Everything else had melted right off, and Vlad had immediately thrown a sheet over the thing to avoid having to look at it's grotesque, black bones. The sheet remained, and the only surviving clone thus far was in the observation room for study.

Attempt ten had survived longer than the first eight, but had been malformed and dissolved into ectoplasm after stubbing its toe. Hopefully, attempt eleven would fare better.

Vlad sighed with disappointment when the mist from the chamber dispersed and the eleventh clone was visible. Another for the observation room, he supposed. He'd tried adding some stable human DNA to the mix, taken from Maddie, as well as experimenting with the force-growth process. It looked stable enough, but this one was too human and not human enough, with Maddie's auburn hair and glowing green eyes, and looked about seven years old when it should have looked fourteen.

"Can you switch between forms?" Vlad asked the clone.

"I dunno," the child clone said. It squeezed its eyes shut, clenched its small fists, and tried to shift forms. Nothing happened. "Guess not. Who're you? Who'm I? What is this place?"

"I am Vlad Masters," Vlad introduced. "This is my lab, and you are a clone I created."

"A clone?" Its wide, round eyes blinked owlishly at him. "Is that my name?"

"You don't have a name."

"Why?"

"Because I can't be bothered to name every clone that steps out of that chamber."

"Why?"

"Because there's a fairly high chance you'll destabilize anyway, and you're an imperfect copy, and I don't want to get attached."

"Why?"

"Because I've experienced far too much disappointment already."

"Why?"

"Well to start with, the woman I love married a man I despise and the only other person in the world who's like me hates my guts."

"Why?"

"I may have tried to kidnap him once or twice, and kill his father... perhaps his hatred isn't so unwarranted, but it still hurts."

"Why?"

"Because—oh, wait, I see what you're doing!" Vlad exclaimed. He growled and scooped the clone up by the back of its jumpsuit and cradled it in his arms as he carried it off. "I'm taking you to the observation room." The clone giggled, and then Vlad stilled in horror as he heard a sound he hoped never to hear again. It was purring, a low rumbling in its core.

Panicked, Vlad changed direction, laying the clone on the examination table and grabbing a stethoscope.

"Whatcha doin'?" asked the clone.

"Quiet now," Vlad demanded, placing the stethoscope against the clone's chest. The purring had quieted, which was good. There was no heartbeat, unexpected, but not out of the realm of possibility. The child was part ghost after all, even if it was a little more human than it was supposed to be. Its core thrummed, strong and steady, so it should be able to fulfill the missing heart's functions just as well. "Breathe deeply." The clone complied. Its lungs seemed to be in excellent condition, so it wasn't that. "Are you in pain?"

"No."

Vlad sighed in relief, and without even thinking, he hugged the clone gently, stroking its auburn hair. He'd been so afraid that he'd inflicted the worst pain of his life on a creature that hadn't asked to be created in the first place. Thank the Ancients he hadn't. Or so he thought. Then he heard it again. That deep rumbling that filled Vlad with dread. Whatever the clone said, there was clearly something wrong.

Vlad pulled back and continued his examination. "Let me take your blood pressure. Look into this light. Turn your head and cough. Does it hurt when I do this?" The clone giggled. That horrible purring grew louder.

"Tickles!" 

So far, Vlad had found nothing wrong. The bones were all properly aligned, the organs the child had functioned properly. He was breathing, eating, drinking, and sleeping just fine. Every time Vlad started to consider giving up, the purring grew stronger, and he redoubled his efforts. He had to find what was causing this child's suffering and fix it.

"Can I be named Vlad two?"

"No," Vlad refused. He was taking a blood sample to run some more tests. His working theory was that the lack of heart was causing the boy distress, even though his core, small though it was, should have been able to effectively take its place. "It would be confusing if we were both named Vlad."

"No, you're Vlad, and I'm Vlad two!" The boy corrected. "Like the number two. It's a totally different name."

"When a child is named after their parent, they are a junior, not a two," Vlad told him, focused on the task at hand.

"Can I be named Junior, then?" asked the boy.

"Fine, whatever!" Vlad snapped, taking the vials of ectoplasm-tainted blood to the next room to perform tests on. It was only as he placed a vial in the centrifuge that he realized what he'd done. "Oh kettle corn!" he shouted. "Now I've gone and done it! How could I let that brat have a name?" He threw an empty beaker at the wall in frustration and it shattered, but calmed down quickly after that.

It was too late now. He'd gone and gotten attached. He was already doing everything he could to spare Junior from the agony he himself had gone through. The only difference was that it felt more personal now. He had to take care of the boy. He couldn't let Junior dissolve like the others had, and definitely not while he was in pain. The others hadn't felt a thing, but Junior... he was purring.

Vlad got back to work.

Still, he found nothing. But Junior's hands got sticky like clay that hadn't fully dried. He left traces of green ooze, like a snail trail on the examination table. His hair started to float around his head, getting misty around the edges. He continued to purr. Not constantly, but as soon as he saw Vlad the purring started up again.

Clones twelve and thirteen had both dissolved within hours of their creation. Vlad didn't care about them. The cloning programs continued in the background. He'd make changes to the programs, initiate the process, wait until the clone was done. When it failed, he would rinse and repeat. He was more concerned with figuring out what was wrong with Junior.

He seemed like a perfectly cheerful kid. He laughed, smiled, played the 'why' game, and made up jokes. He even got up and danced around when he needed a break from sitting on the examination table.

"Hey, Daddy, what do you call a vampire without teeth?" Junior asked while Vlad was reviewing his notes.

"What?" Vlad asked absently.

Junior curled his lips over his teeth and said, "A wampiwa!" Vlad snorted, and shook his head and the boy cheered victoriously.

His body had been becoming slowly more spectral. Blood tests showed the ectoplasm concentration in his blood was steadily increasing. When Vlad stroked his hair now, his hand went right through the ends. His pale skin had become mildly bioluminescent, though it was only visible when the lights went out.

It seemed a core with no heartbeat meant that his ghostly qualities were consuming his humanity. If Vlad couldn't stop the process, or at least slow it down to a rate that would allow Junior to safely transition into becoming a full ghost, he would surely destabilize and dissolve, just like the others. Vlad's heart ached thinking about how much pain the boy must be in.

"What do you call a goose with no teeth?" Junior asked, and Vlad smiled a bittersweet smile at him. Despite the jokes, he could hear the boy's loud purring several feet away.

"What do you call a goose with no teeth?"

"A goose!" Junior said, grinning brightly. "Gooses don't have teeth!"

"The plural is geese, and they do have teeth, actually," Vlad corrected. "In fact, geese have teeth on their tongues."

"Really?" Vlad nodded. "Cool!"

"Are you in pain, Junior?" Vlad asked the same question every day, often several times.

"Nope!" Junior always denied that he was. He was brave, but Vlad knew better.

Clone fourteen dissolved within minutes, an issue with the force growth process, corrected. Clone fifteen survived, but was malformed and overgrown. It was taken to the observation room. The cloning parameters were adjusted again. Clone sixteen was malformed in a similar but less exaggerated manner, but lasted only twelve hours before dissolving in the observation room. Junior's skin had taken on a deathly pallor. He purred loudly when Vlad entered the examination room.

"Are you in pain, Junior?"

"No, Daddy," the boy said, but his smile wasn't as bright as usual. "Do you wanna play a game?"

"Sure, Junior," Vlad agreed. "We can play while I run today's test. What game?"

"I'm gonna pick something in the room, and you can ask ten questions to figure out what it is!"

"Isn't this game supposed to be twenty questions?" Vlad asked.

"Huh? What do you mean?"

"The game is twenty questions. One person picks an object or creature, and the others get twenty questions to figure out what it is. My friends and I played it in college."

"How could you played it in college when I just made it up?" Junior asked, cocking his head. 

"Oh, I see." Of course Junior didn't know anything he hadn't learned inside this lab. Similar as the game may have been to twenty questions, he had come up with it on his own. "You invented it independently, but another game already exists which is very similar."

"Well, we're gonna play my version!" Junior insisted. "So you only get ten questions."

"Very well. Is it bigger than a bread box?"

"What's a bread box?"

"It's a box for holding bread." Vlad held out his hands toward Junior, indicating the general size of a bread box. "About this big."

"Oh. Then no, it's not bigger."

"Is it animal, mineral, or vegetable?"

"Uh... mineral I think," Junior said, frowning in thought. "What are beakers made of?"

"Glass."

"Is that a mineral?"

"Yes."

"Then it's a mineral."

"Is it a beaker?" Vlad asked, Junior gasped, his eyes widening in amazement.

"Yeah, it is!" he said. "Wow, you guessed that so quickly! You're really good at this game!"

"It's a gift," Vlad said lightly. He flicked the light off to see the progression of Junior's glow. It had grown increasingly brighter, just since the previous day. It seemed Vlad's, or rather Junior's, deadline was closer than he'd thought.

"It's your turn now! You pick something in the room, and I have to guess it in ten questions!"

"Alright," Vlad flicked the lights back on and looked around, but his eyes landed back on Junior, and he couldn't think of anything else. "Go ahead."

"Is it bigger than this?" Junior held out his arms as wide as they could go.

"Yes." Vlad grabbed his stethoscope and put it against Junior's back to listen to his lungs. "Quiet now, breathe deep." Under the purring and the pulsing of his core, Vlad could hear Junior's breathing hitch in a way it hadn't before. That wasn't good. His stethoscope came away with a green residue on it. "Alright, what's your next question?"

"Is it more soft or more hard?"

"More soft," Vlad answered.

"Is it the cushion on the exam table?"

"No."

"Is it... your lab coat?"

"No."

"What color is it?"

"Lots of different colors."

"Is it the quilt in the cupboard?"

"No."

"Is it your chemistry lab coat? The one with all the funky stains on it?" Vlad laughed once.

"No."

"Hmm..." Junior looked stumped. "Is it... alive?"

"Sort of," Vlad looked at the results from the tests he'd run the day before and frowned. "For now."

"Is it you?"

"No, and that makes nine," Vlad said. "Think carefully, Junior. You only have one question left." 

"Is it me?"

"Yes, it is," Vlad confirmed. "Now, tell me the truth, Junior. Are you in pain?" This time, Junior didn't answer aloud, just shook his head.

"It's my turn to pick!" he said next, and looked around the room. "Okay, I got it! You can ask your questions now."

The seventeenth clone was discolored, and dissolved after twenty-four hours. A glitch in the force growth process resulted in eighteen being approximately six inches tall, but it survived, mostly. Observation indicated that none of the other surviving clones had anything approaching Junior's mental capacity, likely the lack of stable DNA.

Vlad altered the cloning parameters, this time combining Daniel's DNA sample with some of his own. The 'Y' chromosome was damaged, so the clone turned out female, but she was more stable and more cognizant than the others, and quickly dubbed herself Danielle, after her primary DNA donor. Closer. Much closer. But still a failure.

Junior was growing less and less stable with each passing hour.

Vlad had tried everything he could, but it hadn't been enough. Nothing had worked. Junior started to lose his motor functions. His sense of smell went next.

"I'm scared," he admitted to Vlad when his vision started to fade and he was groping around in the dark for his father. Vlad walked over to him, hugged him very, very gently. Even the slightest pressure caused Junior to liquefy, but he couldn't let the boy be alone.

"Are you in pain?" Vlad asked.

"Yes," said the boy. Tears welled up in his brightly glowing eyes and streamed down his cheeks. I wasn't before, but I am now. It hurts, and I'm scared."

"It's alright. I'm with you," Vlad said, though his own eyes were starting to sting and a lump formed in his throat. He stroked Junior's hair with a feather-light touch. "I'm sorry this is happening to you."

"I can't stop purring anymore," the boy choked out. "I did it on purpose before, but I can't stop anymore."

"Why would you do it on purpose?" Vlad asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Junior couldn't see his tears, couldn't see on his face how terrified he was. Junior could only hear and feel, and Vlad would be damned to the furthest corners of the Ghost Zone before he let his child know how terrified Vlad was in his final moments. He deserved comfort, not fear.

"Not the first time," Junior explained, his voice hitching as he cried into Vlad's chest, ectoplasmic tears no doubt staining Vlad's best lab coat. "I was just happy. It felt nice when you held me, and it just happened."

"You were happy?" Vlad asked, confused. "Ghosts purr when they're in pain. They purr to try to heal themselves, to self-soothe. Why would you purr when you were happy?"

"It just happened," Junior repeated. "And your reaction was so funny. Then, the more I purred, the more attention you gave me, so I kept purring. Then I started to feel weird, and I hurt, and the purring wouldn't stop anymore. I just wanted to spend time with you, Daddy." Vlad couldn't catch the tears before they dripped onto Junior's head and fizzled on his scalp as beads of ectoplasm welled up where they landed. Vlad winced at the sight and dried his eyes with his sleeve"Are you okay?"

"Am I okay?" Vlad asked. He forced himself to take a deep breath. "I'm fine, Junior. You're the one destabilizing."

"It's okay, Daddy. Don't cry," Junior comforted him, and wasn't that backwards. Vlad shouldn't be the one being comforted by his dying son. "I got to spend my whole life with you. And we... we had fun, didn't we?"

"Yes, Junior," Vlad agreed. His boy didn't need to know that Vlad had spent the duration of his life worrying about him, not now of all times. "We had great fun."

"Hey, Daddy?" Junior asked, and Vlad hummed in response. "Why do scientists wear practical shoes?"

"Ha," Vlad laughed once, weakly. "Why?"

"So they don't get Bunsens," Junior said, and giggled, just as weakly. "Get it? 'Cause it sounds like bunions?" Vlad allowed the boy a chuckle.

"Yes, I get it," he said, even as the boy's body continued to dissolve, he was still making jokes. "It's very funny."

"Daddy?" Junior called out, but whatever he was about to say, he never got the chance. He destabilized completely in Vlad's arms, and the man was kneeling of a puddle of ectoplasm that had once been his beloved son.

He cried out in anguish.

He wailed and wept. 

A rumbling purr rose in his chest.

#phic phight 2023 #phic phight #fic #things i wrote #dp #danny phantom #vlad masters #original character #phantom clones #angst #sad ending

[themoonsbride]

love to hear that you also love counterfeit!jamie because him>>>

since we all love him i would love to request a one-shot where he is y/n's best friend and she is in love with him but she thinks that he doesn't feel the same, and one day on her birthday when he has a concert he sings her favorite song (you choose which one<3) and after the show he wishes her happy birthday and tells ther that he's in love with her and kisses her 😻

AHHH I LOVE COUNTERFEIT!JAMIE I miss counterfeit sm tbh </3 also thank u for letting me pick the song!!! (I tried to do this in first person pov, sorry if I messed it up at any point)

Happy Birthday. xo

--×♥︎×--

I was walking downtown looking at all the small cafés and makeup shops and some of the clothing stores. I wanted to get myself something nice for my birthday since I never really saw my family too often and wasn't really expecting anything since I was going to be turning 26.

I decided to get a coffee and continue strolling afterwards, pulling out my phone and scrolling through it whilst I waited in the line. A notification had popped up at the top of my screen, Jamie tweeted. I tapped on the notification.

Can't wait to see you tonight 'town name on -/-/--' -J xo.

He was now making his way round into the town the both of us grew up and still lived in today. And was having a concert on my birthday.. I was about to open our texts so i could message him, but that was when i got interrupted by the woman behind the counter.

"Hi ma'am, how may I help you today?" Her voice sounded light, but bored. probably because she'd been dealing with shitty customers all day, thankfully I didn't have a job like this.

"Hello, could I just get a small vanilla caramel coffee please?" I responded with my most poilet voice, clearly fake.

After she told me my coffee would be finished soon I strutted my way towards a one person table. I opened my phone screen and started to text Jamie.

Hey, saw your tweet, how many more shows are you having?

it didn't take him long to respond, I felt my heart flutter once the message switched from delivered to read; just now. And then he started to type back.

hey! I think we're only going to be doing around 3 or 4 more, you miss me that much hm?

I could feel my cheeks flush pink as I read his text, I always had feelings for Jamie, I guess I'd just never really realized or came to terms with them until a few years ago.

well yeah, you're my best friend Jamie

trust me darling, I'm aware. You're my best friend as well, maybe I'll see you at the next show, yeah?

hmm I dunno

come onnn, I'll get you free tickets, please show up, it'll be my birthday present to you.

no, no you don't have to get me free tickets, maybe I'll show up okay?

meaning you'll be there, yeah?

oh my gosh. okay, I gotta go, I'll talk to you later Jamie.

see you later, love.

I smiled as I jumped a bit from one of the baristas calling my name for my coffee, shit. I forgot about that. I turned off my phone screen and put it in my back pocket as I walked up to the counter adjusting my purse as I grabbed my coffee and smiled at the woman.

I thanked her as I walked out of the café and started to head my way around a bit. I ended up going into a small makeup store to buy lip gloss and some other cosmetics. as i started to stroll back to my apartment, I found myself buying a ticket to the concert tonight for COUNTERFEIT. , Jamie's band. him and his brother, Sam, had formed the band around a year ago. They had some really good songs, but Jamie would never know that.

--×♥︎×--

It was around 6:30, COUNTERFEIT. was starting their show at 7:00. I was rushing to finish getting ready. I wore a black dress and one of Jamie's leather jackets that he'd left at my apartment on accident, it still smelt like his musk cologne, it made my cheeks turn red.

I was putting on some nice boots and then spread some lip gloss along my lower lip, smearing it onto my top lip before fixing up my hair a little more as I grabbed my keys and started to head for the door. I never told Jamie I was going to be at the concert, even though he was already assuming I was going to be there, or so I thought.

I parked in the lot and started to merge in with the crowd as I waited, it was 6:50 now, I felt my phone buzz inside the pocket of Jamie's jacket.

hey, just wanted to say the show won't be the same without out you love, assuming you didn't get a ticket, it's alright.

Before I could even respond to Jamie's text, the concert began. He seriously thought I wouldn't show up? damn.

He started to play most their songs, there was enough time for around one more, since the show was from 7:00 to 8:15, and somehow he still hadn't seen me in the crowd, but before he started the last song, he began to speak.

"This song, is for a girl who I've loved, more than she'll ever fucking know, Happy Birthday Y/n."

His words strummed my heart like the way his played his guitars. His voice was heavy and his chest was heaving. His torso was coated with sweat and his hair was damp. He looked beautiful. But surely he meant love as in, a friend love, right?

There's no possible way he could've loved me the same way I've loved him for the past 3 years. right?

Some people clapped and cheered for him as the song began, he was playing my favorite song, the first song I'd heard from their band.

For the Thrill of It.

I felt like I couldn't move, I felt like the world was starting the blurr and I couldn't comprehend anything but Jamie, Jamie and his damp hair and passionate voice. Jamie and his band.

As he was nearing an end of the song, he'd seen me. He finally made eye contact with me. and I wasn't sure if the heat of the room was making his cheeks flush dark red or if it was me. Surely it was the room, his body was covered with sweat anyway.

"Thank you, 'town name' I love you all, you were and are perfect."

Jamie kissed his index and middle finger and faced it towards the crowd before him and the rest of the band walked off stage, people were starting to leave, but not me.

I was pushing and squeezing through the herd of people, making my way towards the back of the stage. I reached the empty stage and searched for the door they'd exited too, I opened it and looked around.

"Jamie?" I called out, but no sign back. I walked around faster, looking past corners and even spotting Sam in the distance talking to the others.

"Jamie!" I called out a little louder, as I went to turn around, I immediately bumped into something firm and almost completely fell back before a hand grabbed my wrist and pulled me back to my original height.

It was Jamie, figures.

I looked up into his soft blue eyes, but they seemed different than normal, different than they always appeared, but I just didn't know what, couldn't figure out what.

"Jamie" I said quietly as he smiled down at me.

"yeah?"

"I think I have to tell you something."

"and what would that be, Y/n?"

I paused, feeling hesitant. I was either going to regret this with my entire life, or it would change my life in the best way.

"..I, I'm, I'm in love with you,"

My voice was small and shakey, but Jamie didn't move, his facial expression didn't change.

but before I could process what was going on, his lips were connected with mine as on of his arms lazily wrapped itself to the small of my back as my hands found his shoulders.

He pulled away from me, his eyes closed and his forehead against mine.

"I'm in love with you too Y/n."

#jamie campbell bower #jamie bower #jamie bower fluff #jamie campbell #jamie bower x reader #jamie campbell bower x reader #counterfeit #fluff

[reallyromealone]

Anonymous asked:

Hiii romeee!!! How are you?? Ugh i just got in an accident while skateboarding, dammit I’m so clumsy..so btw um, since I’m sad rn, so may i request how tr boys (ur favs) react when their bf gets injured after a brawl and they try to hide it, act tough, but eventually got caught.??

Omg you skateboard???

That’s so cool wtf, I’m learning to skateboard.

Also this is adorable and i love it.

———

SMILEY

He’s actually really observant

Well with you he is

It was little things at first

Small limp here and there

Didn’t think to much of it since you can be clumsy sometimes

It wasn’t until you stretched slightly and he saw it

A deep bruise on your hip

“babe what the fuck is that?”

“uuuuh”

Nahoya was pissed at the other people but he was even more pissed that you didn’t tell him

You never knew a smile could be so grim

He made you show him the damage

Was even more angry

His baby was battered

He most definitely hunted down those fucks and made you promise to tell him next time

RAN

Another observant mf

Noticed you wearing more baggy clothes if you don’t already

Flinched away from his touch

He was low-key worried you were Angry at him

What did he do???

It wasn’t until he showed up to your apartment late at night with food and a condom

You forgot to put a sweater on before answering the door

And he saw it all

Every bruise and cut

I like to imagine once you get past his cocky exterior he’s a good boyfriend but like kind of possessive in a “give me the word and I will kill them”

He just straight up demanded names and stormed off to call Rindou

He was pissed for a bit at the fact that first you didn’t tell him and second he didn’t wasn’t there to protect you

And now he won’t leave you alone to go to the bathroom

MIKEY

It was most definitely because of a rival gang that hated Mikey

You avoided Mikey as best as you could but this clingy mf

He was not having it

It wasn’t until he spotted you walking down the street that he basically track ran at you and jumped on your back

He didn’t miss the flinch or slight hiss that escaped you.

Then like a switch he just straight lifted your shirt

“who did this.”

“i-its nothing—”

“who did this”

Eventually you let up and told him

He felt so fucking guilty that you got hurt because of him

He made Draken care for you while he raised literally hell

He made you promise to tell him if it ever happened again

And then pouted and forced you to apologize for ignoring him

ANGRY

He’s not angry

Just disappointed

He noticed immediately when he saw you

You aren’t slick

The sad expression on his face

Oh it hurt more than the bruised ribs

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“you were busy and it’s not that bad”

That was the wrong answer

He then proceeded to chastise you for not telling him

He seems like a stress cryer

He totally stress cries

And that broke you as you apologized and promised to tell him

Reblogs help the blog

#tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers x male reader #tokyo revengers fluff

[scarlett-vixen]

Once again @bearyposts had a very cute idea and I ran with it! I switched it up just a little bit I hope you don’t mind!

Prompt: B- Beach

Pairing: Luke x gn!reader (but not like that you weirdo)

Genre: Fluff!!

“The whole day??”

“Yep! The entire day! You better hurry up, I bet the tide washed up a lot of cool stuff last night!”

Luke took off to go change for your day out, leaving you and Simeon alone to quietly laugh at how excited he was. The young angel was always so happy to see you and always so eager to help you out with any task you had, however the two of you never got a chance to spend time together without a bunch of loud demons hanging around.

You had mentioned this to Barbatos one day while learning a new recipe at the Demon Lord’s Castle, it had been his idea to ask Lord Diavolo for access to his private beach, you thought it was a great idea and had gone to search for the prince immediately.

Your original request was just to have access to the beach for a few hours so you and Luke could enjoy some quality time together, but Diavolo had given you the entire day instead.

You had texted Simeon the night before, informing him of your plan to surprise Luke and take him for the whole day, Simeon of course thought it was a wonderful idea and promised not to say anything.

Watching Luke’s eyes light up when you finally told him the next morning was worth the wait, he had changed clothes in record time and was now pulling you out of the room by your arm, he was still beaming with joy and for a moment you thought he may start vibrating from excitement.

“Make sure he wears sunscreen!! Angels have sensitive skin!!” Simeon called after you like a protective mother.

“What should we do first?” Luke asked the minute you arrived at Diavolo’s private beach.

“Well, it’s still pretty early, the sun is still rising so I thought we could walk along the shore and see what cool stuff we can find!” The young angel made a beeline for the water and you chased after him.

The two of you walked along the shore for a while, occasionally stopping when one of you found something interesting, Luke was proud to show you every cool shell he saw but was in total awe when you found a broken sand dollar and gave it to him.

Eventually you both returned to the umbrella and chairs where your stuff was sitting, Luke was afraid of losing his new momento so he asked you to hold onto it for him, you safely tucked it away in the bag you brought so you could focus on the next activity.

“OH! Can we build a sandcastle?? But like a really big one! With a moat?” Luke asked, already holding the bucket.

“Sure,” you laughed a little “but first you better put on sunscreen, I’m not getting yelled at by Simeon if you burn!”

“Ugh, fiiine.” Luke groaned as you passed him the lotion. “Why does Simeon have to treat me like a little kid?”

“Well, you wouldn’t want Micheal to see you red like a lobster now would you?” You teased. Luke started to respond but quickly stopped, he knew you were right.

The next two hours were spent putting together the biggest sandcastle you had ever seen….or so you thought.

“BIGGER?! Luke how big do you want this to be? I’m pretty sure you can see this from Purgatory Hall at this point!” You laughed, he was a very ambitious angel that was for sure.

“Yes!! This is just the first level! We need to add more, and the moat still isn’t finished— OH! We should add a drawbridge!!” Before you could answer Luke took off to look for something to act as a bridge.

The rest of the afternoon was just as fun, you continued to add on to the massive sandcastle, you both spent time in the water to cool off, you found a big stick and wrote your names in the sand and doodled little drawings around them, you saw several school of fish swim by while standing in the water, you even managed to catch a few in the moat on accident when the tide started to come back in.

After a very full day of fun in the sun you told Luke it was time to head back, he started to complain but quickly changed his tune when he realized he could show Simeon all the pictures you took together.

“We’re back!” You chimed.

“Oh! Did you two have—“

“SIMEON SIMEON LOOK!! We built a sandcastle bigger than Diavolo’s castle and we saw a bunch of fish and we—“ Luke continued to babble on about your day together, Simeon was desperately trying to keep up as the young angel scrolled through all the photos. “OH AND CHECK THIS OUT!!”

Luke pulled the sand dollar from his pocket, showing it off to Simeon and telling him all about it. You couldn’t help but smile at how adorable it was watching him explain what exactly a sand dollar was, something you had just taught him earlier in the day.

You said your goodbyes and headed back home, worn out and ready to eat a quick dinner and head to bed. As you walked up the steps to the House of Lamentation you heard yelling from inside, not unusual but this yelling sounded frantic, you opened the door and followed the sound of the voices. In the living room you found five of the seven brothers all panicking and yelling.

“WHAT DO WE DO?!”

“I don’t understand!! How could this happen?”

“HOW DID WE LOSE A WHOLE HUMAN??”

“Did we not show them enough love??”

“MAYBE YOU DIDN’T BUT I KNOW I SHOWED ‘EM PLENTY OF LOVE!! How could they just leave like that??”

You were far too invested in the scene playing out, Asmodeus was draped on the couch with his arm over his face in true drama queen fashion, Satan was vigorously shaking Levi who seemed to be hyperventilating and repeating himself, Belphie and Mammon were the only ones still searching…although you weren’t sure the the couch cushions were a great place to look.

“Did you lose your house keys again?” You finally asked loud enough to be heard over the commotion.

“NO I DIDN’T LOSE MY KEYS!! YOU KNOW DAMN—“ Mammon paused, registering your voice for a minute.

In total unison all five yelled your name and beamed with joy, you just smiled and laughed. You could see all of them immediately relax after seeing you in the doorway, suddenly realizing that you may have forgot to tell them about your plans for the day and that you didn’t have great signal at the beach to receive texts and calls, you wondered just how long they had been searching for you.

“LISTEN UP! I just heard back from Lord Diav—” Lucifer barged into the room, visibly distraught. His hair a mess, his coat missing and tie undone around his neck, you did your best to contain your laughter. “How did you—”

“YOU FOUND THEM!!!”

You recognized the loud voice behind you and knew what was about to happen, you turned quickly trying to brace yourself and stop the large demon from plowing into you, you were far too late.

“No Beel wait!!” In an instant you were trapped against his chest, his vice like hug ripping all the air from your lungs, your feet wiggled as he lifted you off the ground. “I can’t…breathe please Beel.”

Your plea for air was ignored, instead you were swarmed by the other six brothers all joinng the hug and telling you how much they were worried about you. You realized just how quickly these demons fell apart when you weren’t around, all this fuss because you took one day to spend time with Luke.

You loved these big idiots.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me fanfic #obey me luke #obey me luke fluff #omswd luke #om! luke #obey me simeon #obey me mammon #obey me mc #obey me lucifer

[bambi-kinos]

@gangstersgish​ I asked about @abluefoxinawildwood-deactivated because BlueFox plagiarized parts of my McLennon Christmas story for the 26th chapter of India, India and I wanted to know if someone rang BlueFox’s bell for it causing them to delete in a panic. I have also received DMs and messages from other users on this website about how BlueFox tried to con and mistreat them during these past few months. This is a very fucked up and troubled individual who will happily engage in plagiarism! 

For anyone who wants to read the 26th chapter to compare it to my story, I have saved it at these archival links:

https://web.archive.org/web/20230220142611/https://archiveofourown.org/works/43225314/chapters/113502727?view_adult=true

https://archive.ph/zh9eq 

This is my story that got plagiarized: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44122932

Basically BlueFox took the gift giving portion of my Christmas story and then repurposed it into the chapter.

This the report I put in to AO3 with the plagiarized text:

The 26th chapter of "India, India": https://archiveofourown.org/works/43225314/chapters/113502727 plagiarizes the gift giving sequence from my Xmas story, "upon the winter's dais of cheer": https://archiveofourown.org/works/44122932

Comparisons between the >text that plagiarized and >>my original text. These are just the ones that I noticed, you may find more if you compare the two:

> John pulled a little box out of his pocket. He was faintly blushing when he shoved the box at Paul. Wasn’t wrapped or anything. Just a little white box. > “What’s this?” Paul asked, taking it. Not opening it yet. > “Well, I don’t know,” snapped John. Only sounding half angry, maybe. Mostly maybe mortified. “Open it and see.”

>>John realized that he had been worrying at it while staring at Paul’s face. >>John scoffed. “Who says it is?” And then he tensed, a flash of worry that Paul would take offense and walk out the door running through him. >>“John,” Paul asked softly. “Is that for me?” >>"Oh, just open it. Don't stand there with your mouth gaping." >>...Maybe the black ribbon had been too ominous.

> Paul looked at John for a long moment. Looked down at the box. Opened it up.

>>He weighed the thing in his hand, lifting it up and down as he nervously regarded the box...

I believe that these lines are plagiarized because they directly mimic the scenario that I wrote in my Secret Santa fanfic: - the John character is nervous about giving a present to the Paul character - John snaps at Paul to open the box - Paul hesitates before opening the box - in my fic, one of the notable details about the box is that it has a black ribbon; the plagiarizing author made the box white, which is the opposite color. I do not believe this was an accident but it also a common sign of plagiarism to be lazy when switching details around.

The plagiarized sequence ends with this:

It was a bracelet. One of them silver identity bracelets, the kind birds usually bought for blokes. Chain and all that. Paul frowned, touched it gingerly. It had his name on the plate. Four square letters: PAUL . He glanced at John, who seemed to be watching him closely, waiting for a reaction. Paul wasn’t sure what to do with his face. No one had ever given him jewelry before."

the IRL Paul McCartney does have a silver ID bracelet with his name on it and it is common to write stories about the character Paul receiving the bracelet as a gift from other dadrock characters, but I believe that this, combined with the above details, proves that this portion of the chapter plagiarized my story.

Thank you for your time

screencaps

1)

2)

BlueFox’s plagiarized text is on top, my text is on bottom.

They only plagiarized one scene but it was MY SCENE. And this is not the first time someone from my server has been targeted for this kind of theft!

I only have one question: who else has BlueFox plagiarized from? Because it can’t only be me.

#talktalktalk #the beatles #john lennon #paul mccartney #mclennon #f fox north #abluefoxinthewildwood #plagiarism #my writing

[dontgofarfromme]

Rewatching EXU bc the Dorian message got me thinking abt them and I missed them, things I have noticed as of ep 1:

Dorian has always been the wildest combination of lying liar who lies and guy who can't lie to save his life. He won't tell you shit about himself however he constantly flags that he's rich by accident and doesn't realize it.

The number of characters all from small towns/areas (or not from this plane of existance) all with minimal experience in big cities!! The exploration of newness is an overarching theme. I also forgot how closely paralleled Opal and Dorian especially are on some fronts in this respect, there's a naivete to both of them, which Opal just spills all over the place and which Dorian tries his best to cover up. Theres this sense esp this early into the show that they've just been let out of a restricting cage for the first time and are riding high on it, but also have some gaps in their understanding of how everything...works. Orym is an interesting contrast bc you get the feeling that while he may not have experienced the city himself and has lived his whole life in a place with leaders that could be trusted, he seems aware of the potential dangers and corruption in the world but actively chooses to give people the benefit of the doubt despite this.

Fearne was always chaotic but I think she's actually become more chaotic as time goes on. Ashley plays her as slightly more reserved here.

Forgot how much Dorian and Orym sort of teamed up as the slightly more restrained ones early on. This obviously goes out the window a bit later on Dorian's part, but the contrasting reasons for not wanting to steal shit for Poska are interesting--Orym has a clear moral objection and suspicion of Posla's intentions, Dorian seems to both have some 'grew up rich' sympathy for her targets but I think also has some worry around doing an illegal thing in general (another compare/contrast between him and opal, she's raring to use her newfound independence to do whatever the hell she wants; and also maybe a consequence of his history in a pretty restrictive environment).

Ruidis + Catha on flag of the ship they rob 2:07:15. The ship is called "the Blightstar" and Aabria says "this looks like...the ship is named after Ruidis, yeah." *Travis voice* WEEEOOOOWEEEOOOWEEEOO. It's also from Issylra, not a place known for trade, so it's weird that it's there.

In the same convo Aabria says Orym is "extremely well-traveled," but earlier in the ep Orym says he's only been to 2 "city taverns." Was the traveling for work with Keyleth or in the 6 years after he left Zephra, or both? I am shaking this little guy upside down so all his secrets fall out of his pockets tell me everything!!!!

Truly the entire "He's a real sailor! He's kept us aloive! Many toimes I would've doied if it weren't for him!" is hilarious

Do we know what Dariax's compass is for? Does he actually follow a deity?

I fully don't remember who did all the murders on this boat or why they didn't take the crown with them while they escaped, I can't remember if we ever figured it out?

It's really interesting how often Dorian tosses the ball to Orym for input/final decisions from like day one. It feels almost like he's looking for either someone who knows what they're doing or a moral compass outside himself and he's pretty convinced Orym's got both those things covered.

Orym, questioning all his life choices: we stole an oily dark crown from a ship full of corpses with evaporating assassins and a monster in the hull.

Opal, having the time of her life: Yeah!!!! We did that!!!

Speaking of evaporating assassins, hey Orym...I do wonder if any of this poked at those memories for him

The fact that Orym's first battle maneuver was bait and switch, I continue to sob over this halfling oh my god he's just doing his best to keep everyone else safe.

I've been doing an awful job of keeping track of plot points in cr3 and I'm p sure they mentioned it but the nameless ones have 40 pounds of smuggled refined residuum from Zephra, def ties into the box they got recently in cr3.

How do the baby ankheg and the big ankheg line up is it that the ship the CK rolled was one Poska's group was targeting anyway but the CK interrupted and took the crown before anyone else could?

It's really interesting that while Orym has been the one trying desperately to steer them right and keep them away from unnecessary dangerous theft etc through this whole episode, in the end his decision to take the residuum (honestly a fair and understandable one!!) is a solid 50% of what puts them on Poska's bad side. It's about what's right for him, not what's safe--he's consistent!

#critical role #cr exu #exu rewatch

[hullomoon]

I posted 5,776 times in 2022

176 posts created (3%)

5,600 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@grapehyasynth

@softdavidrose

@maxbegone

@madsbuckley

@schitthappens

I tagged 5,760 of my posts in 2022

#queue to the moon - 4,845 posts

#schitts creek - 1,065 posts

#ofmd - 670 posts

#heartstopper - 302 posts

#fic recs - 268 posts

#david rose x patrick brewer - 253 posts

#abbott elementary - 245 posts

#a league of their own - 242 posts

#taz - 238 posts

#alexis rose - 169 posts

Longest Tag: 124 characters

#i feel like this is the moment i admit that the reason the bear got put on my radar is because i recognized him by his bicep

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

day 21: allergic reaction

part of Whumptober Lite 2022

read on ao3

"David?" Stevie watched as David scratched his arms, sleeves rolled up to reveal hives all along the skin.

“I don’t know what’s going on,” he exclaimed.

Stevie moved his hand away from his arm. “Don’t scratch it.”

“But it itches!”

Stevie sighed. “Have you touched any poisonous plants?”

“No,” David replied while subtly trying to reach his arm.

“Eaten anything?”

“Just those handpies that Jocelyn made for Abestos Fest.”

Stevie glanced at the half-eaten pie on the counter. “Are you allergic to peaches?”

“I don’t think so. It was a bit tingly when I ate it though.”

“It shouldn’t tingle!”

13 notes - Posted October 21, 2022

#4

wip wednesday

i was tagged by @tyfinn (thank you!)

i’ve written a little bit, but been away from here. so here’s a big ol’ paragraph. and a thank you to @petrodobreva for being the one to mention including Roland in these shenanigans.

"Hey, Dave, what's with the dog?"

David grimaced as he turned to face Roland. "I adopted him, his name is-"

"His name is David," Stevie interrupted, eyes alight with glee. David glared at her. 

Roland leaned down to pet Rothko. "Well, hi there David."

"I didn't name him David, that would be too confusing."

"What's so confusing about that?"

David crossed his arms. "Because my name is David!"

Roland stood up. "I mean we call you Dave so it isn't all that confusing."

David didn't bother looking at Stevie knowing all too well how much she was enjoying this conversation. He decided it was best to finish the conversation as soon as possible. "You're the only one who does that."

"Sounds like now's a good time for everybody else to start doing that since you named your dog David."

David threw his head back in exasperation. "It was an accident on the form. His name is Rothko."

"Oh, like Mark Rothko?"

A fucking course Roland was the one to know that. 

He sighed in relief. "Yes."

"Then why didn't you put that on the form?"

David was in hell. "I got it switched around with the owner's name."

"Does that mean your name is Rothko now?" Stevie interjected. 

He grabbed Stevie's wrist and guided her away from Roland. "As fun as this conversation has been, we need to leave."

tagging: @sarahlevys, @designatedgrape, @stereopticons, and anyone else who wants to!

17 notes - Posted August 24, 2022

#3

what could i do (but follow your love)

written by @ravibegins

read by @hullomoon

part of @podfic-please

It starts, for Derek at least, in the front seat of his car.

He’s not sure where it starts for Dex, but it had to have started somewhere. Derek assumes it’s been a long time coming for Dex.

Why else would Dex lean across the console to press a kiss to Derek’s mouth, like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do?

[02:48:25]

20 notes - Posted May 22, 2022

#2

[podfic] Learned Our Lessons Well

part of Summer Podfic Swap 2022

written by @mcbangle

read by @hullomoon

Shitty had known enough sons of celebrities and millionaires to have a pretty clear idea of what Jack Zimmermann would be like. But this kid was nothing like any of them. For some reason, Shitty couldn’t shake the urge to protect this quiet, awkward nerd. Or to maybe actually be friends with him.

Or, scenes from Shitty’s and Jack’s friendship, from their frog year through Shitty’s second year at Harvard Law.

[34:07]

21 notes - Posted August 27, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

200 works!!!

last week i reached 200 works on ao3!!! thank you to everyone who has read my works, kuddoed, commented, or bookmarked. to the people who sent in asks or prompts on tumblr. to the people who i’ve done collabs with. and of course, to my friends who let me ramble on about my projects and cheer me on. all of you are part of the reason why i’m still doing this and i’m so grateful 💙💙💙

probably after rare fest i’ll reblog a prompt game to celebrate so be on the lookout for that!

33 notes - Posted June 21, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #the fact that my longest tag is the one when were i'm thirsting on jeremy allen white #I'M SCREAMING #thoughts from the moon

[capybaraonabicycle]

I posted 1,380 times in 2022

That's 911 more posts than 2021!

44 posts created (3%)

1,336 posts reblogged (97%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@marvellouspinecone

@timelostdoctor

@pia-writes-things

@doccywhomst

@nightmanatee

I tagged 775 of my posts in 2022

Only 44% of my posts had no tags

#<3 - 65 posts

#dw spoilers - 31 posts

#beautiful - 19 posts

#goncharov - 14 posts

#amazing - 13 posts

#wow - 12 posts

#river song - 11 posts

#nice - 10 posts

#unreality - 10 posts

#yeah - 10 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#if you want to watch the part that's about theseus there's a video on youtube called 'bodo wartke- antigone teaser 1-ödipus trifft theseus'

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

omg a FIC? i`m lucky to have multiple variations of my own name but may i use e.k.a. in this case? (bc otherwise i`m gonna have a date with davros and i don`t want to)

Oh, I love this combination! (And a lot more than any combination involving Davros tbh)

Thank you so much for sending this in and distracting me yesterday evening. I very much needed it and even managed to have a lot of fun writing despite my underlying state of worry (I had an exam today and I always stress out A LOT the day before. But it all went well and I passed!)

I have to warn you, I got carried away a little (mostly due to the date being on Darillium; THORS is my second favourite episode ever) and I haven't really proof-read this. Also, I wasn't sure whether you preferred a romantic date or a platonic one, so...it's a bit of a weird mix now.

Anyway, I hope you like it :) I would very much appreciate if you told me what you thought.

Without further ado:

We are so lucky

Pairing: Yaz x Reader

Place: Darillium

Date prompt: Bowling

Rating: General

Genre: Fluff <3

Words: ~4000

The whole date was just one big, lucky accident. The Doctor brought you to ‘Darillium’, a planet far, far away from your solar system that was best known for its Singing Towers. Or so the Doctor said. It was just that when you landed, it was pitch dark and there were no towers visible, least of all audible.

When Yaz pointed that out, the Doctor just shrugged, scrunched up her face like she often did and answered: “Well, they don’t sing all the time.”

“It’s a bit rubbish then that we have landed now, isn’t it?” Dan asked, joining the three of you at the TARDIS door that was looking onto barren, nightly land and the front of a pretty, richly illuminated restaurant. Behind the building a cute little town stretched towards both sides, lampions and fairy lights everywhere, shining a warm, golden light into the night.

“Shouldn’t we just come back when it’s day?” Dan proposed. “And when the towers are switched on?”

“Can’t” the Doctor said turning towards the TARDIS window and rising to her toes to scrutinize her reflection. “I’ve got some business here. Now.”

She wiped a smudge off her cheek and brushed her hair back behind her ears. Just to immediately mess it all up again and wring her hands. You exchanged a confused glance with Yaz. Now what was this about?

“What kind of business?” you inquired. “The dangerous kind?”

“Nah, don’t worry” the Doctor lied, smiling at you unconvincingly. “Just you know, normal business. Very boring. Anyway, there’s an entertainment mile just behind the restaurant, you can wait there until I’m done.”

“You’re going to leave us here?!” Yaz asked exasperated. “Again?”

You gently grabbed her arm, trying to reassure her.

“I’ll be back in a jiff” the Doctor promised, already walking away at a fast pace without another glance at you. “Don’t wander off.”

“Is she making a habit of this” Dan commented, following Yaz and you out the TARDIS and pulling the door shut. “Wandering off and telling us to stay put. And the towers aren’t even singing.”

“How’s that supposed to work anyway?” you asked while you started towards the restaurant. Yaz offered you her hand and gratefully you intertwined your fingers. Hers were a little cold, so you took her hand in both of yours to warm them up. “Singing towers? Do you think they’re sentient?”

“Maybe it’s just a euphemism?” Yaz proposed, leaning slightly into you while you walked.

“Yeah, or just something the Doctor made up” Dan chuckled. “To convince us this planet was worth the visit.”

He was walking beside you, hands stuffed into his pockets. It really was quite cold on the planet, almost as if the sun hadn’t shone in a very long time.

“What in all of the universe could she need to do here anyway?” Yaz asked. “That was so important we had to come here now, even though she obviously doesn’t want us with her?”

See the full post

17 notes - Posted February 15, 2022

#4

It was always difficult reasoning with the TARDIS. It was especially difficult when you were dying. One should think she would feel pity and for once do what you asked her to, but in the end she always thought she knew better. And, quite frankly, at this point the Doctor was too far out of it to specify that the sunrise was supposed to be on Earth. Still, even in her battered state she recognised immediately where the ship had brought her to. It only took opening the door and having a small shimmer of the rising sun fall onto her face together with an all too familiar smell of home. You did not spend a decade dreading a slowly brightening light and mistake it for another when you saw it again.

Let me try to fix it one last time please. I know there wasn't room for them in the episode but there would have been room for a tiny scene pre-regeneration. Just to have them meet. Just so the Doctor wouldn't be alone when she died. Just so her wife would see the old body and while being confused and concerned remark that oh, now everything makes sense and when asked to clarify answer spoilers. Just so we realise that there is a chance here that it isn't over yet, that they will get a few more adventures as a gift. Just for some hope. For her. For them. For us :)

18 notes - Posted October 30, 2022

#3

Churchill: What happened to time?

The Doctor: A woman.

Scene cuts to River punching the hell out of Swarm & Azure for hurting her wife and her wife's girlfriend

20 notes - Posted November 11, 2022

#2

Rory: You can't ship real people.

River: Of course you can. Even literally. There's this great intergalactic abduction service to get the people in question to the same place.

Rory:

River: Would you like their number? They have a hotline.

29 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Now I want thasmin to be happy as much as the next person, but please consider:

It ends badly because of course it does, when has it ever not ended badly? And then Yaz is gone. And the Doctor is left behind, like they always are in the end. And it's probably even their fault and they blame themselves. But even if it wasn't, the fact that she is gone hurts enough already.

The Doctor can't sleep. They never could very well but they are exhausted, post-regeneration maybe, and they really, really should. They have even pushed the bed out into the console room again but it doesn't feel right when Yaz is not lying next to them.

In a way they wish they could forget the pain, suppress it, because it is too much. But they know they mustn't. They know they need to honor her memory, need to feel the pain. They wish they could talk to someone about it. But the only person they would feel safe to tell is the very person who is gone.

They miss her. Her smile, her hand in her own, her guidance. Yaz always knew what to do.

And so they get up, shuffle over to the fridge, take out the emergency sharpie (and a chocolate chip cookie because they haven't eaten in days and they really need to get something into their system).

And then they sit down on the bed, roll up the sleeves of a coat that belonged to another woman and scribble onto the palm of their hand. Five letters.

WWYKD

124 notes - Posted January 25, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

#tumblr2022 #year in review #my 2022 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #love my top 5 posts #and of course river is again the only character making it into the top 10 tags 😅 #well except for goncharov I guess :) #and the rest is just random words or a heart - of course it is #I especially love how I get to have a gif of yaz on here :)

[lokh]

f is for fairy bread and featherdale! two again?!! its difficult to fit only one character into the letter...

fairy breads premise is very simple. i saw that ‘four foods of the apocalypse’ post and they had the gall to include fairy bread in it. i was appalled. fairy bread is a GREAT food,,, so naturally i based a furry off of it (????). i did take a bit of inspiration from 'possum magic’, hence his being a possum. im pretty sure the magic food in the book was actually lamingtons but oh well

featherdale was inspired by all the bnha oc hype. shes got porcupine quills! a bad choice of piggyback. she has three siblings all named after aussie wildlife parks and, because theyre all immune to getting quilled, love getting piggyback rides off her. unfortunately it seems ive deleted the files with their names and info hhgHFSDHCFdf two of their names are altina and nowra, so either ive miscounted or the third has been lost to time forever....

commissions // ko-fi

#the file had their ages.... their basic info.. their appearances #im.. destroyed... forever #furry tag #like the wildlife park #;_; noo.... #all the .sai files from the time it SHould have been made were deleted #and i never made it a png #so its for real gone.... rip #art #feboc 2020 #februaroc #im p sure there was a brother.... #it mightve been symbio cos the rest arent pinging in my head #if it IS symbio tho... exec decision to change his name ghdhfghvsdfv #i only know nowra was the youngest as in like. babey. and she has the hardest quills #altina is going thru like. power puberty. theres spikes everywhere. #i May have switched their names by accident. oh well!

[captains-simp]

can you do a fic where reader unintentionally breaks one of the rules by accident so she has to be punished but the punishment is being ignored by BOTH wanda AND nat and reader is uncomfortable with being ignored because it makes her feel invisible and like she's a ghost so like this is what happens, reader breaks a rule in front of wanda and nat but reader doesn't realize she broke a rule but wanda and nat punish reader without telling reader first, and they punish her by not acknowledging her presence and stuff then reader just breaks and starts crying and stuff, she's really upset until nat and wanda cave in and see what's wrong with reader because they didnt know that reader didnt realize she broke a rule and her punishment was being ignored by them

also nat is dom, wanda is switch (like wanda is sub to nat but dom to reader) and reader is sub also nat, wanda and reader are in a poly dom/sub relationship and dating

Oh my god is this ✨smut with a developed storyline✨?

Wanda Maximoff & Natasha Romanoff ~ 3rd Wheel

Warnings: debatable toxic traits, feelings of abandonment and unlove, fingering, praise, oral and hints of overstimulation

2.4k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You giggled as Sam made stupid sound effects every time he paused in telling his story. You were pretty sure the story wasn’t true but hearing him tell it was entertaining enough. He put his hand on your forearm as he laughed at his own comeback to some apparently ‘very real’ character in the story and you couldn’t help but laugh along with him. That was until your other arm was grabbed and pulled you to your feet. 

“It’s late, we should go.” Natasha said curtly. You nodded and said goodbye to Sam with a tight hug and followed after the Russian as Wanda joined her at her side. 

“How did your meeting go?” You teased the redheads. Officially, what you had just attended was a party. Unofficially, it was a chance for Natasha and Wanda to gather more intel for a future mission that they had been working on for months. Tony, to no one’s surprise, was more than happy to help by hosting the party and it was just like any other to everyone else. You had missed your girlfriend’s company at first, but had eventually started socializing with the others and the night had flown by. 

When you were met with silence you assumed you didn’t hear either of their responses over the music so you sped up your steps slightly to stick close by. Once you got to the car you knew they were in a bad mood. It was one thing when one of them was mad but both of them was a whole other storm. Not that it was always bad. Sometimes they would take that anger out on you in the bedroom and you had secretly been dying to be fucked like that for a while. 

You tried to make conversation a few times, telling the pair about Sam’s story and how it was probably about as real as fairies but they still didn’t respond. Of course, you had no idea that these things were just making them madder and that Wanda and Natasha were communicating silently most of the time, discussing the meeting as they ignored you. You gave up eventually and gazed out the window as you fiddled with the fabric of your dress. 

Once you were home things only seemed to get worse. “I made dinner before we left.” You said as you looked under the grill to find that the three served plates were still fine and put them on the counter. You had cooked before getting ready because you knew your girlfriends were busy and were going to be hungry when they got home. You glanced at the two women to see Natasha undoing her girlfriend’s zipper and placing a soft kiss between her shoulder blades. You smiled at the tender site. 

“Hey, where’s my kiss?” You teased as Natasha started towards the bedroom but shouldered right past you. You looked to Wanda but she didn’t spare you a glance either as she strolled through the apartment to your shared bedroom. You watched them go with a dry mouth and dragged yourself to the bathroom where you struggled to undo the zipper of your dress before finally succeeding after five minutes of struggling and sore arms. One of the redheads usually did it for you before you could even think to ask.  

You stepped into the shower and tried to focus on the feeling of the hot water running down your body, hoping it would distract you from the dull ache near your heart. It didn’t work. You wondered if you had done anything to annoy them at the party but could think of nothing. With a disgruntled sigh, you turned off the water and stepped out of the safety of the shower. You quickly dried off and tiptoed to your now-empty bedroom to change into your pajamas. 

When you went back into the kitchen you found only one of the plates was left. You glanced over at the living area to see Wanda and Natasha curled up together on the couch under a blanket as they watched TV and ate the food you made. They could have at least warmed mine up. You grumbled to yourself as you put it in the microwave and made yourself a drink. You trudged over to the couch but Wanda extended her legs to cover the free space just as you were about to sit down. You looked up at them both but their eyes were still glued to the TV. 

You sat down tentatively on the armchair closest to the couch and started taking small bites of your food. You weren’t paying attention to the screen at all. Instead, your eyes kept flickering to the two redheads curled up on the couch together. They looked so warm and tender laying together. You wished so desperately you could be with them, but instead you just felt like an outsider. That had always been a big insecurity for you. Wanda and Natasha were both Avengers and you were just a normal citizen. You often wondered if you ever felt like a burden, the weak part of their relationship. You could never understand their lives the way they could, you could only watch. Usually, you would voice your concerns and insecurities to them and they would assure you to no end that they loved you more than anything. However speaking had gotten you nowhere that night, so you kept it to yourself. 

You sat in the living room for hours. You wanted to go to bed so badly. You were utterly exhausted and your eyes were starting to hurt from the lights in the room you wanted to be shielded from. But you were determined not to go until the other two did. You wanted to be curled up between them both like you always were. You wanted to feel safe and secure and most of all loved. 

Finally, Natasha turned off the television and stretched out like a cat on the couch before standing and making her way to the bedroom, leading Wanda by the hand. You put your uneaten plate of food on the side to deal with the next day, too tired to even think about it at that moment. The pair instantly dropped down into bed and Natasha held Wanda tightly as she rested her head on the Russian’s chest. You gazed down at them longingly but forced yourself into bed besides them. You reached out your hand to tug weakly on their shirts, desperate for any kind of acknowledgement but received none. You withdrew your hand and held it up to your chest as you watched the pair. How long had they been craving time to themselves? 

You slowly got out from under the covers and left the room without feeling their usual fond gazes on your back. You lingered in the hallway before glancing back and saw Natasha tracing circles on Wanda’s back. You gulped back tears and made your way to the spare bedroom where you slept alone for the first time in months. 

*

You didn’t get up until lunch the next day. You didn’t feel like doing anything, especially not facing your girlfriend. You wanted to stay out of their way to give them the alone time they so clearly needed.

When you had finally dragged yourself out of bed and into the hallway you froze. Wanda’s moans could be heard clearly from your bedroom followed by sharp cries of Natasha’s name. You stood rooted to the spot as the pain in your chest grew worse. Since they had so keenly invited you into their relationship. The pair had never once done anything sexual without you. At first you had been flattered and insisted that you were okay if they wanted to do things by themselves every once in a while but eventually you had grown used to how things were. You had grown used to being included in everything. 

Numbly, you made yourself a hot chocolate in hopes of it raising your spirits. Not long after you had finished, your girlfriends came wandering into the kitchen with a new glow. 

“Do you want a drink?” You piped up, you could at least be helpful. Wanda grabbed something from the fridge as Natasha took out a glass from the cupboard and spun around to kiss her girlfriend on the lips with a soft giggle. Wanda smiled against her and hummed when Natasha’s tongue teased the Sokovian’s lower lip. 

“I love you.” Natasha hummed and Wanda smiled with a blush as she said the words back. 

“I- I love you too.” You added and took a desperate step towards them both, holding out your hands to them but they separated and started to stroll back into the living room. You watched on as tears sprung to your eyes. They didn’t say it back. They always said it back. “Please.” You whispered though you may have well have been talking to a wall. You whimpered quietly and weakly made your way to the guest room where you closed the door and fell down onto the bed, not being able to stop the tears streaming down your face. You curled up on yourself and hugged your duvet as close to your body as possible, needing something to cling onto like a lifeline. 

You didn’t hear the door open through your muffled weeping. You did feel the gentle pair of hands on your waist and the dip in the bed either side of you. Your head shot up and you looked between the pair in panic, fearing they were going to tell you to go elsewhere for the day or even forever. Wanda shushed you softly and held your dampened cheeks in her hands. 

“It’s okay, honey.” Wanda cooed and you whimpered as you tried to enjoy what you assumed was the last time she would hold you. “We’re not going anywhere and neither are you.” You peered at her cautiously and then Natasha who nodded gently. 

“We’re sorry, baby. Sam was getting a little too handsy last night and you didn’t seem to notice.” Natasha explained carefully. You remembered the brief moment he had touched your waist and frowned at the memory. 

“And you know letting people touch what isn’t theirs is breaking a rule.” You nodded slowly as Wanda added on.

“So your punishment was being ignored by us so you could learn but we took it too far.” Natasha admitted.

“And we never told you what was happening. We’re so sorry we made you feel this way, sweetie. We love you so much.” Wanda said as she kissed you softly on the lips as Natasha lay down behind you and wrapped her arms protectively around your waist. 

“So so much.” She added. 

“Promise?” You asked and Wanda lay down to join you and wipe your tears away. 

“Always.” 

“Let us show you.” Natasha whispered against your neck and you nodded as she rolled you gently onto your back and began planting soft kisses along your neck, occasionally lingering on patches of skin to suck dark bruises into them. Wanda titled your head towards you and kissed you slowly, cherishing the taste of you and wanting to reclaim all that she could. 

Natasha’s hands started to wander down your stomach and landed at the hem of your sweatpants that she easily surpassed along with your panties. You gasped when you felt her fingers run along your folds and up to your clit. You bucked your hips and moaned against Wanda when she applied some pressure, all while the Sokovian started to retrace her girlfriend’s steps by running her hands across your breasts. Her thumbs brushed against your hardened nipples and she hummed against you. 

Natasha finally pushed two fingers past your folds and relished in the slick that coated them instantly. She curled them gently inside you and withdrew to start about making a consistent pace that had you melting beneath them both. 

“That’s it, sweetie.” Wanda assured in the most loving tone you had ever heard from her. 

“Taking me so well. Our best girl.” Natasha hummed and withdrew her fingers. You whined softly but shushed when Natasha brought her fingers up to Wanda’s lips and slid them inside. The Sokovian hummed in delight around Natasha’s fingers, eagerly licking her slender digits before retreating to start down your body, determined to gain an unfiltered taste. 

Wanda pulled your sweatpants and panties off completely and kissed up your thighs softly, taking her time in treasuring you just as Natasha had done with your neck. She gleamed at the sight before her and didn’t hesitate to lick a long strip between your folds. You mewled in Natasha’s hold as Wanda moaned against you. “Always so sweet.” She dipped her tongue inside of you and you clenched around her muscle with a gasp.

“That’s it, you’re doing so good for us.” Natasha praised softly as she started to rub your clit with her free hand. You bucked against both their movements, feeling beautifully overwhelmed by it all. Wanda’s tongue flicked inside you and you moaned loudly into the air, tempting Natasha to quieten you with a kiss while your other girlfriend continued to work between your legs that were beginning to shake. 

“Please.” You whined as you felt your high approaching. The pair smiled at one another as they continued to please you. 

“I can feel you clenching my tongue.” Wanda mused.

“Go ahead and cum for us, baby.” You did as you were told without a second’s delay. You moaned loudly into the air as you shuddered against the bed and came undone on Wanda’s tongue. The pair helped you ride out your high and into another orgasm relentlessly. They didn’t let up, making you cum again and once more, leaving you feeling utterly exhausted and overworked. 

“That’s it, darling. You did so good for us.” Wanda praised as she fell down besides you and they both held you protectively. 

“We love you.” Natasha muttered softly and you smiled.

“I love you both too.” You hummed, enjoying the warmth of your girlfriends’ comfort.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

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