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nobleclover · 1 year

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Piece of Cake

King Dice and Forkington were standing over a warm stove, the former beating eggs while the latter was measuring flour. Now, usually when one bakes a cake, they would have a recipe book on hand guiding them. However, these two didn't.

"Are you sure that this will work, my love?" Forkington asked cautiously.

"Oh, Silverton, trust me! I can bake a batch of brownies with my eyes closed! My mother taught me to follow your instinct with everything, even cooking!" the die-headed man, declared.

"Well, if you insist..." Forkington shrugged in response.

"Besides, nothing beats spending time together after a long hard week," Dice added, lovingly resting a hand on his partner's shoulder.

The fork and dice gazed at each other affectionately and edged towards each other to kiss when Forkington accidentally spilled the flour on Dice's shoe.

"Oh blast! Sorry!"

"Just get some more out of the cupboard, I wouldn't worry about it," he assured Forkington.

-------------------------------------------------------

After finally baking the cake, both men sat down and prepared to eat it. Just as Dice bit into his slice, one of his teeth chipped off due to how hard it was.

All Forkington could do was wince in response and mutter, "Ouch..."

#cuphead #my writing #my otp #king dice x forkington #diced fork #cuphead don't deal with the devil #cuphead fanfic #writing prompt

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foxofninetales · 1 year

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Thinking today about how as someone with major texture issues around most fruits and vegetables, it would have helped so much if someone had come to me years ago and said

Hey:

Make it tiny

Mix it with something Good Texture that you like

"Eat healthy!" they say, and then they show you pictures of a smiling woman digging a fork into half a butternut squash or eyeing a bowl of whole blueberries like a ravening wolf and your spine wants to crawl out through your skull at the thought of that Texture in your mouth.

But you know what I can do? Cut zucchini into paper-thin slices and cook it with noodles and marinara. Chop that spinach fine and scramble it with eggs and cheese. If I'm having a day where the thought of a grape popping in my mouth makes me nauseous, I can cut it in half. My chinese takeout gets diced into tiny pieces and mixed into the rice. It doesn't work with everything - seeds are still a Major Problem - but the number of fruits and veg and even world cuisines that I can eat has expanded SO MUCH since I discovered this. YMMV, but it's such a stupidly simple thing to do, and nobody ever told me.

#neuroatypical #food

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risestarkiss · 4 months

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Rise Ramblings #546

In the beginning of the mini-episode “Race,” April texts all the guys with an offer: free pizza to the one that can come by and watch Mayhem.

I can only describe what happens next as, the “Text Battle of all Text Battles.”

Based on the choice of pictures we can safely assume that we are indeed looking at Leo’s phone.

Well, let’s analyze the play-by-play, shall we?

ROUND ONE

Leo comes in clutch with perfect form and all caps. No extra frills, but with all the chills. Next, we have Raphael. Ooo, looks like he lost a bit of time there tripping up on capitalization. Nice try, Champ. Third is Mikey. It appears his spelling mistake cost him vital microseconds. No “dibss” for you, Mikey baby. Lastly, we have Donatello. Two explanation points? Too much time lost there, buddy.

Winner: Leonardo

ROUND TWO

Again, perfectly done by the boy in blue as he slides into first with all caps (plus an exclamation for effect.) Second, we have ol’ reliable, Big Red. By ditching the “I” he gained some speed but lost it all with the extra exclamation points. Maybe next time, Red, maybe next time. Third we have Orange. Typos? What’s a typo? Sadly, the time skipped in forgoing accuracy means nothing as he still took third place. Last is Purple, yet again. Maybe spend less time on correct capitalization and more time sending your message, Dondon.

Winner: Leonardo

ROUND THREE

And here we’ve emerged with the emojis. Swift, simple, and to the point, Leonardo is first place once more. His message is clear. Pizza? Absolutely. Get a clue, it’s all for Blue! Second is the big man himself, two slices for him please! Sadly, the extra slice equals no dice as he comes up thrice in the number two spot. Starry eyes, pizza surprise, but he’s not on a roll as Mikey is next to go. And dead last is Othello von Ryan. Yes Donnie, pizza is 100 percent fire, but with the knife and fork you’ve come up short!

Winner: Leonardo

FINAL RESULTS

WINNER: LEONARDO

I guess someone is a sore loser.

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fic-over-cannon · 5 months

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a little something to celebrate 100 followers (and finishing my finals!)

Jason’s thigh shifts under your cheek. The fabric of his jeans is warmed by your combined body heat, worn soft in the way a best loved pair always is. It’s been a long day, a long week actually, but its over now. You’ve made it through though and there’s nothing but a glorious evening free ahead of you now. You’re lying on your side, eyes closed, head pillowed by Jason’s delicious thighs. He was sitting on the couch when you came home, thighs splayed wide open and absorbed in a book. He’d looked so comfy sitting there, it was all you could do to control your descent onto the couch. You’d flopped down, boneless the instant your body made contact with his. Jason’s thighs were just as comfortable as they looked, warm and firm with just the right amount of give. He looks down at you, fond.

“You gettin’ comfy down there sweetheart?” It’s wry, and probably accompanied by a smile, if you could be bothered to look up and open your eyes to see it.

“Mmmhmmm.”

You nuzzle your face further into his thigh, let the smell of detergent and Jason wash away the day. He reaches for something over you, pulls down a soft fleece blanket to cover you with. He drapes it over you, let’s you adjust it the way you like it. He pets over your hair once, twice, then buries his hand it to cradle your skull. There’s a rustle of pages and you know he’s gone back to his book.

You drift there, warm and comforted by Jason’s steady presence. There’s nothing but the sound of your combined breathing punctuated by the occasional turn of a page. You’re not sure how long you stay there, but by the time you open your eyes again the quality of the light has changed. The living room is only lit by the low warm light of several lamps, the sun completely gone down. For the past few minutes Jason’s gone back to petting your hair, finished with his book.

“You back with me yet?”

Instead of answering, you try and bury your face even further into his leg. His thigh just so firm and biteable that you give into the urge and gently clamp down.

“Hey! Okay, we’re both getting up now. You can either wait here on the couch or sit in the kitchen with me but I need to start making dinner.”

He tries to shake you free but you’re not ready yet. It’s not until he bends over to kiss you on the temple that you magnanimously let him go. Turn up to look at him appraisingly.

“Kitchen but I get to be your taste tester and I get to bring the blanket.”

He laughs then, bright and loud. Sweeps you up, blanket and all, and bridal carries you to the kitchen. Sets you down on one of the bar chairs across the counter so you can watch him, and then starts to pull out pans. Gets the black tea and spice chest out of the cupboard and starts digging for the mortar and pestle under the kitchen sink. Chops and peels a ginger root, adds it to the pot with the tea and spices before covering it all with water to boil. He cleans up as he goes, pulling out the ingredients for pasta as the water boils. You rest your head in your hands to watch him work. A few spoonfuls of sugar and a cup of milk go into the pot now. His hands are steady and mesmerizing as they use a ladle to aerate the boiling milk. The kitchen smells amazing, warmed spices and tea filling the air. A steaming mug appears in front of you, as if by magic.

“New spice blend. Let me know what you think.”

Jason winks before spinning back to the stove.The chai is rich and sweet on your tongue, warming you up from the inside out. It’s probably your favourite version yet, but then you say that about every new iteration he lets you try out.

Jason’s multitasking in a way your tired brain can’t quite catch up to. Pasta’s boiling in one pot, chicken seasoned and shallow frying in a pan, and his knife’s flying to dice garlic and cherry tomatoes. He darts forward with a bit of chicken on a fork, gets you to blow on it before carefully putting it between your teeth. It’s plump and juicy, fat adding salt and the basic seasoning doing the rest to make it delicious.

“It’s good. Taste tester approved. The chai and the chicken.”

“Glad to know my cooking meets your high standards.”

He grins like quick silver, hands never stopping their motions. There’s a pesto sauce cooking off with the chicken and its fat, garlic frying up with it. A dash of cream and the colour goes a soft green. The chai’s almost gone now, a satisfying weight in your belly that only makes you hungrier. There’s pasta on another fork waving in front of your face. Annoyed, you snap it up with your teeth.

“It’s cooked.”

A cloud of steam and the pasta’s drained, tossed into the chicken and sauce. Two bowls appear on the counter filled with chicken and pasta, topped with cherry tomatoes and grated Parmesan. You’re not even sure when he had time to grate cheese. It looks so good, your mouth is already watering.

You’re warm and relaxed, still bundled in a blanket, the dregs of chai still in the mug wrapped in your hands. There’s food on the table, good food made with care. There’s a beautiful man leaning across the counter from you, in the apartment that you’ve made a home together. It’s been a long day, but you’re home with the man you love and none of that matters anymore.

#thank you everyone!#here’s something a little self indulgent to celebrate #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd x gender neutral reader #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd imagine #jason todd headcanon #red hood x you #red hood x reader #jason todd fic #tooth rotting fluff #snack fic #sunnie writes 🌻

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wileys-russo · 5 months

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would you be able to write a blurb with Alexia Putellas where you constantly tease her for her nickname La Reina. Love your work so much!!!🫶

la reina II a.putellas

"bon diaa!" alexia's eyes fluttered open hearing a voice sing out by her ear, your face hovering over her a welcome surprise. "someone slept in." you smiled teasingly, not having missed the way alexia had woken to her alarm, snoozing it and rolling back over to cuddle into you, very out of character for her.

"are you complaining?" her accent was even thicker in the mornings when she was tired which made you melt, staring at you through her lashes with a small smile. "never. it was a very welcome surprise ale." you beamed happily, kissing her flushed cheek.

"since you're not up yet, let me cook breakfast for you?" you asked softly, pressing your body into hers and kissing her jaw as alexia stretched with a tired nod. "stay." you ordered playfully, sitting up on your knees, lips pressing momentarily to her forehead.

"te lo perdiste." (you missed) alexia smiled cheekily, tapping her lips and balling your shirt in her other hand. "oh lo siento." you pouted teasingly, ducking down and giving her a proper kiss good morning.

"now stay here, mi reina!" you winked making her groan and swat at your ass as you stood from the bed, detesting the nickname given to her by her teammates and adored by you.

little did she know she'd just added fuel to the fire.

enjoying the warm sun bathing her face alexia ignored her every urge to get out of bed, squashing down the voice in her head screaming that this was a waste of time and allowing herself the luxury of falling back to sleep for a little while.

she woke what felt like mere seconds later when really an hour had passed, her face now smushed into her pillow as a weight settled on her back. "bon dia again amor." you sang out, pressing gentle kisses on the back of her neck.

hearing her stir and start to shift beneath you, you shuffled off of her, sitting on the edge of the bed with a soft smile. "la reina's breakfast is ready if she is!" you teased with a grin, alexia's eyes slotting into a tired glare as she sat herself up and swung out of bed.

begrudgingly she took your outstretched hand, allowing you to tug her out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen. "gracias bebita." alexia held your hand tighter as she sat down, pulling you toward her and pecking your lips sleepily, plate of food already in front of her.

"no no." you tutted, pushing her hands away from her cutlery as alexia frowned. "que?" she questioned as you picked them up, a sly smile on your face which immediately she was suspicious of, eyes narrowing slightly.

"la reina does not feed herself!" you shook your head, cutting up her food and offering her a forkful. "you are joking." your girlfriend spoke bluntly in her accented english, staring at you as your grin only widened.

"have to look after you best i can mi reina." you continued, waving the fork in front of her as alexia snatched it off you, turning her shoulder and eating with a huff.

"te amo muchoo." you sang out, kissing her cheek repeatedly as she pushed you away with a grumble of something under her breath. "your laundry is also done, have to make sure la reina has clean clothes for training!" you smiled, leaning your chin on your hand as your girlfriend shot you another glare over her shoulder.

opting to ignore you as you tried time and time again to gain her attention alexia finished her food and stood, moving to the sink and rinsing her dishes as you attached to her back.

"was it good, mi reina?" you teased, kissing the back of her shoulder blades as alexia huffed, trying to push you away as you only clung on tighter and she placed her plate on the drying rack.

"por qué dices esto ahora?" (why are you saying this now) your girlfriend groaned, her taller body leaning into you a little as you laughed. "you are too easy to wind up ale" you smiled, craning your neck around to kiss her cheek a few times.

"please stop." she turned quickly, hands grabbing your hips and walking you backward till you hit the counter, eyebrows knit into a pouty frown only making you smile more.

"okay baby." you agreed, leaning up to sweetly kiss her as alexia sighed, slumping again into you as you ran a hand through her hair and her thumbs rubbed circles into your hips.

"you should get ready hermosa, you train at eleven thirty." you reminded, tapping her sides gently as she exhaled and pushed off of you, pecking your lips several times with a nod, again mumbling a thank you for breakfast against them.

"of course amor. cannot have la reina training on an empty stomach!" you grinned teasingly, alexia's eyes narrowing as you took off toward the bedroom, your girlfriends footsteps thundering after you.

#alexia putellas x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas #woso blurbs #woso fanfics #woso

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nikosama13 · 1 month

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One piece boys reacting to you cooking for them! (Luffy, Zoro, Sanji x Reader)

Description: One piece boys reactions to your wonderful cooking skills/ the first time cooking for them.

Side Notes: Hello my loves! This is just a short mini post to keep up with you guys. Lowkey rushed and I wish I could of added more detail, I might later. (Probably spelling errors + my requests should be open) (づ￣ ³￣)づ

ALSO ☞︎ Comment if you would like a part 2 with other various one piece men.

☞ Minor cursing

\Part 2 here! (Shanks, Law x Reader)/

Consider the following..?

Enjoy the read!

~~~

Luffy:

Automatically thought your cooking was better than Sanji’s. The first time you presented him a meal his eyes popped out of his head from the flavor. It was meat that you gave him, which you took a very long time to prepare. (What did you expect.. a salad?) Cooking was like your secret talent, however you left most of it to Sanji since that was his job in the first place. “Mmm. This is great y/n, thanks!” he smiled and proceeded to devour his plate, licking it clean and making sure to not leave a single crumb behind. In the end you couldn't stop smiling that you made your little ball of energy a meal he enjoyed.

~~~

Zoro:

Zoro wasn’t really a foodie like his captain but when it came to you he didn’t hesitate to try everything you made. Especially if it was just made for him. The very first time you tried cooking for him it ended with him asking for more. He originally thought you were feeding him some of Sanji’s leftovers in the fridge. (Hidden from Luffy) When you told him that you cooked it earlier in the day he stopped eating. Worried, you asked him if he liked it and he responded with “You made this..?” and you nodded slowly. “This is fucking delicious.” You immediately smiled and giggled, relieved there wasn’t anything wrong. “I’ll take some more if you got any left, baby..”

~~~

Sanji:

After being with him for a while you’d obviously pick up on a couple of things, he was the Straw Hats cook after all. Some things you took note of was how he’d chop the onions or dice the tomatoes. Usually he would have you tasting his food but soon enough, on one sunny day he found himself being the taste-tester. You nervously placed down the dish of Seafood Rice (or whatever food you want it to be) and set down a fork and knife for him, he gently smiled. He knew not to judge too harshly since this was one of your first times cooking in a while. Then he took a fork full of it, chewed and swallowed. “Darling, with all honesty, this is one of the best dishes I’ve had in a while.” He continued to eat and cleared the plate. “You should cook more often honey.” ~~~

Finish Line!

(Comment if you would like a part 2 with other various one piece men.) Consider following..? Thank you so much for reading!

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jeeaark · 2 months

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Dumb Choice V. 1

Greygold could totally take on their team 1-9. Totally. With 8+ summons and carrying a 10-year-supply of inventory items, Greygold IS the BBG babe's love fight don't count because Greyg didn't wanna fight shh

As much as I don't like where this fork-in-the-road went, boy did I have a lot of time to mull over why squid buddy called it quits. And I couldn't pick just one reason ✨

So let's kick it up a notch with the survival theory.

After hearing how certain mindflayers get the instinctual hankering to be a lil shit that sometimes they gotta roll a dice so as to NOT be a lil shit....

What if. Maybe squid buddy's mindset wasn't just being dead stubborn about surviving, but the exhausted-flayer's survival instincts kicked in. Maybe there was poor communication because Emps was in panic mode, wits at an end, fear on overddrive, every doubt collapsing in on itself, stuck-in-a-corner mode, eye-for-an-eye contemplation, fight-or-flight response overriding any other sensible dialogue options that were available for them.

Maybe Emps failed their don't-be-a-lil-shit roll

And since squid buddy didn't uh....want to repeat the fight response like with Ansur, for various reasons, reacted with flight instead

Funny story, I drew this a while back as a 'fun' theoretical possibility, but been realizing more recently ehhhhh-Emps really coulda just killed us all right then and there (not withstanding Halsin and Jaheira). If Emps had the ability to turn off the mind-protection after you stray too far from the mission, then they coulda done the same thing to everyone now. So if Emps really had a "no more use for us" mindset like a certain mindflayer book says they do, fleeing wasn't necessarily the only way for Emps to survive.

Maybe. Emps was about to react in a way they knew they were gonna regret again and eeehh- counter-reacted by noping the fuck out. For Greygold, I like that theory. Squid Buddy: jumping the gun like a dramatic tired mindless-flayer

#bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #the emperor bg3 #greygold #of course there's probably holes in my theory or I could be COMPLETELY wrong #originally I just wanted to draw the teetering parallel of guardian-in-shiny-armor killing their 'more than friends' again #emps going nope nope nope mentally and physically to that intrusive squid thought is a fun new afterthought though #Ansur probably didn't try to use a dagger- maybe attempted decap with a sword....zappy-breathed sleepy squid #but can't resist a -classic- betrayal drama dagger #Just because Greygold just wanted to give orpheus a chance #didn't mean they had no qualms with the squid choice if orpheus felt like quashing that chance thereafter #meanwhile Orpheus over here also going: I'm sorry you were gonna what?

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pedgito · 2 years

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𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐮𝐩 pt. ii ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary: reeling from the night before, eddie's mixed signals lead to new revelations and a spontaneous night of activities that you can't help but play along with.

cw: 18+ (minors dni), virgin!reader, first kisses and more, skinny dipping, oral (f recieving), handjobs, hair pulling, lots of cute interactions, it's a lot calmer than the first part lol. if i miss any tags pls let me know!

word count: 7.7k ♡ part one, part three

There had been radio silence from Eddie the entire morning.

You shoved the dice in Eddie’s hand when you caught him at lunch, roughly slapping them down into his palm and curling his fingers over them, assuring they were squeezed shut. Eddie’s stricken with a wordless response, staring up at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly agape—his brain is short function behind those sweet brown eyes, realization settling into him as he thinks back on the night prior, hand wrapped tightly around his cock as he swayed you toward an orgasm, all while desperately starving himself from his own.

He watches you sit down, pulling your lunch tray closer to your chest. A baby carrot gripped tightly between your thumb and pointer finger, the crunch deafening in the silence that had fallen over the table. The other side of the problem suddenly dawns on him, pulling your own pair from his jacket pocket, sliding them gently onto the tray, the small clinking grabbing the attention of the entire group.

“I’m sensing some hostility,” Dustin ponders, eyes squinted as he glances between the two of you, “what did he do this time?”

“Huh?” Eddie’s wounded by the accusation, hand pressed to his chest in offense, “Why is it always me?”

“Because, it is always you.” You reply sharply, using the weak plastic fork to stab into the dry spaghetti, twirling the noodles around the utensil but never making the trip to your mouth. It made you want to barf. “Isn’t it?”

“That prank you pulled last year that ruined her science project?” Dustin recalls, watching Eddie’s face fall at the memory.

It was harmless, Eddie had so foolishly assumed, sneaking up behind you one dreary, rainy Monday morning–already frazzled by how soaked your project was– scaring the daylights out of you; thus sending your project, which had taken days—days, you’d told him. Hours of paper mache and labeling, just to get everything right, all ruined in the small span of ten seconds, the sad remnants left to wilt away on the ground. He apologies for a week straight, following you around like some sick puppy, but to no avail. Eventually though, you got over it and it wasn’t hard to forgive him. Still, you would never forget.

Eddie really knew how to get under your skin, through pleasure and pain; the pain of annoyance, to be clear. It wasn’t his voice, or his personality—it was the unbounded lack of self awareness and grandioseness.

“So, what did you do?” Dustin pushes, all of the boys now narrowing in on the both of you.

“Nothing.” It’s simultaneous, both of you glancing up with narrowed eyes, quickly flicking back toward your trays. Eddie shoved a small almond into his mouth, chewing harshly.

“Shit, maybe I was wrong.” Dustin concedes, hands thrown up. “Was it you, then?”

Dustin’s staring at you expectantly, determined to get to the bottom of this obvious tension between you and Eddie—though, you are having none of it.

“Dustin, I’m giving you five second to drop it before I tell this entire table that Suzie said—“

“Okay!” He shouts over you, hands waving around in panic, begging you to stop. “I’ll drop it.”

It’s a low grumble, dejected at how easily he’d been subdued by you; he couldn’t help how head over heels he was for his girlfriend, even talking to you about it in confidence—but you weren’t afraid to use it as armor if need be. Dustin really needed to learn his limits.

Your lunch gets cold, the lingering silence switching from awkward to extremely uncomfortable—you excuse yourself immediately. Eddie, unfortunately, doesn’t follow.

☆.｡.:*

You think about Eddie the rest of the day, despising yourself for it. He couldn’t find the courage to say anything to you, other than a simple nod or acknowledgment your way, despite how often you sought him throughout the day. Was he embarrassed now? You couldn’t find any reason why that would matter, having done what you did willingly.

He’s setting up the table for another campaign session after school that day, the entire trudge of boys piling in behind you, gabbing and talking about their days, all the while, Eddie meandering around silently, placing and displacing certain things. Dustin noticed too, leaning in over your shoulder from your seat—which so happened to be directly across from Eddie’s, traveling the long stretch of the table, you glanced in the direction of the long haired boy, his head turned away from the both of you.

“Did you break him?” It’s a valid question. None of you had ever seen him like this. Ever.

“I told you—I didn’t do anything.” You defend, voice hushed as you look over at your younger friend. “He’s just got a stick up his ass today, he’ll figure it out.”

“I hope so.” Dustin sighs, “He’s really gonna go hard with this campaign today, clearly.”

And it’s a stark difference from his usual relaxed demeanor as he directs the narrative, almost harsh in the way he delivers his lines. It’s almost like he’s attempting to rush through, which is unlike him, entirely left field from what you’re used to.

His fingers are curled around the privacy screen setup at his end of the table, eyes glancing up at you every so often. He thinks you don’t notice, but you’re so hyper aware that it’s impossible not to.

“Come on, Gareth—the lemures are dying, there’s no time for leisurely decision making. You either attack or flee.” Eddie demands, eyes scanning over the few of you huddled together, determine your plan of attack.

“Just fucking fireball it,” You suggest, exhausted from how hard your brain was working to follow the campaign, feeling like this was a losing battle from the beginning, “if we die, at least we’ll finally be put out of our misery.”

“Fine, fireball—we’ll fireball him.” Gareth decides, eyes glancing nervously toward you as he rolls. It’s just enough to give you that edge, ultimately defeating the horrible monster Eddie had conjured up—he smiles slightly, but it’s so faint you almost didn’t notice.

The campaign lasted nearly five hours, yet somehow, you felt energized, awake—but that was mostly the frustration that had built within you throughout the day, bothered by how irritated and distant Eddie seemed with you.

This was all his idea, originally—so how was this fair to you? Why did you have to feel guilty? It’s a partial reminder to yourself to never rely on anyone else for an orgasm, because clearly it was too difficult to even face that person afterwards (it's an absurd thing to think about, but it was true).

And while everyone else had already said their goodbyes, you lingered behind, helping him pick up like you always did, but there was a lot less talking and a lot more narrowly moving around each other, making it a point to avoid touching.

He huffs under his breath slightly, shoving the sprawled out papers into a folder, snapping it shut.

It’s a shock to your body, turning on your heels to look at him—his back was still tense, noticeable through the thin fabric of his shirt, his vest jacket slung over the back of his chair.

“Oh, would you fucking cut it out?” You nearly beg, talking to the back of him, hands thrown out to your sides in anger, balled into tight fists, “You’re acting like I scandalized you or something.”

His head turns slightly, the sharp line of his jaw visible to your eye, eyes dropping down to the floor. “Sorry,” He finally says, one of the very few words he’s spoken to you all day, “I’m not trying to—I just, don’t know what to say.”

“That’s news to me,” You laugh slightly, a little flippant sting behind your words, “If it’s really a problem we can forget it ever happened—“

“That’s not it,” He admits, turning his body to face you, sitting gently against the edge of the table, “I’ve wanted to talk to you all day—everyone is always around, though.”

You hadn’t considered that, honestly—not realizing how often Dustin or Mike trailed behind Eddie, or Gareth badgering you about some homework from the day prior as you walked to your next class, you were never truly alone, not until times like this.

Your lips pull together in a thin line, that nagging feeling of guilt eating away at you—maybe you had been too harsh on him.

“You seemed mad this morning when you gave me the dice.” He adds, idle fingers twisting his rings back into place accordingly, “I thought maybe you were upset about last night.”

“You did interrupt me,” You point out, “over something you could’ve just bothered me about at school the next morning—I was a little annoyed, don’t get me wrong.”

“But, if I hadn’t, maybe—“ Eddie starts, heading in a direction you were already well aware of.

“You’re making it awkward when it doesn’t have to be.” You remind him.

There was too much space between you both, Eddie feeling like he was on the other side of the planet, staring down meekly at his torn up Reebok’s.

“I know, I know,” He murmurs, chewing at his bottom lip, “I’ve never been in this situation before.”

“With anyone?” You ask, like Eddie gave up his free orgasm advice to anyone—it was a stupid question, but it slips out regardless.

“With a friend.” He corrects, eyes glancing up to lock with yours. “But, yeah–never with anyone else either.”

Friends. Just friends.

A friend who’s dick you pictured an awful lot, even before having him describe it to you—and even that feels dangerous to think about, knowing that you craved the idea of seeing your friend that way, stripped down and wanting.

“So, do we just forget about it then?” You ask again, more insistent this time as you approach him in small steps, “Like it never happened, right?”

“No,” Eddie says suddenly, “God, no.”

You tilt your head, pressing for more. Why? Why no?

“I can’t just forget shit like that.” He admits, his hand uncurling at his side, palm resting against the table. It’s a subconscious move, like he’s reaching toward you. “Can you?”

“I can lie and say yes, if that makes you feel better.” You tell him, soft laugh escaping your chest. “But, no—I don’t think there’s any way to just forget about it. Ignore it? Maybe. It doesn’t have to be weird, Eddie.”

“I know,” He agrees, nodding slightly, “Just—can I be honest with you?”

“Always.”

“It’s all I’ve been thinking about all day.”

And you sigh a silent breath of relief, because the sentiment was shared. Your cunt buzzed at the admission, feeling something stir inside of you. You blamed it on the lack of sexual interaction; it was a natural, after sharing something so intimate, that you couldn’t help but feel guilty thinking about—still, you were definitely thinking about it.

Eventually you arrived at his side, taking a careful seat on the side of the table beside him, feet perched up in a chair. He was silent again, thinking, following you closely with his eyes.

“That’s fair,” You shrug, deciding to not clue him in on your own selfish thoughts, his hands, his mouth, all of him; all over you, “Did you think I was going to make fun of you for it or something?”

“Maybe,” He says softly, eyes glancing from your face to the small gap between you both, hands pressed against the table, pinkies only a few inches apart. “I feel like I pressured you or something, which wasn’t my intention at all, I just—“

You don’t feel regret—shame maybe, at the idea that you couldn’t get the memory out of your mind, but there wasn’t an ounce of regret to be felt. “Eddie, I wouldn’t have agreed to it if I didn’t want to—it’s okay.”

You swallow your words for a moment, debating carefully on how to switch the conversation to something less debilitating.

“Besides, you’re pretty good at it.”

It isn’t what you mean to say, but it comes out anyway.

“Helping you come?” And the words are so crass to hear coming from his mouth, inches away from you, but you can’t help the way your stomach turns, fluttering pleasantly. “Really?”

He’s laughing and you can both agree that it’s a ridiculous topic to discuss, but neither of you bothers to stop.

You shrug, head tilted up to look at him, “Like I said, I don’t have anything to compare it to—but it was pretty good.”

“You’re so difficult to understand,” Eddie responded with fondness, a small smile spreading across his face, deep smile lines in his cheek making you blush, face warm with embarrassment.

“All you have to do is ask questions, Eddie—I don’t bite.”

Eddie gives you an unsure look, almost mocking in the way that he doesn’t fully believe you.

“Was everything you said true?” He finally asks, curiosity racking his brain. Part of him can’t believe you, it doesn’t seem real. Ruin me, Eddie. I want you to ruin me. It was the single most earth shattering thing he’s ever heard someone say to him.

You nod feebly, maintaining a comfortable eye contact, admiring the way Eddie looked at you freely now, less restricted and apprehensive—his eyes looked warm under the theater room lighting, pools of dark honey, dangerously inviting. “I wasn’t lying. I’ve really never done anything.”

“What about the time you had to kiss Gareth on that dare?”

You snort softly, remembering how mortified Gareth looked in the moment, having no courage to actually go through with it. “You were there! He kissed my cheek, remember? He was terrified.”

“Oh, yeah,” It dawned on him, a burst of laughter bellowing from his mouth—and the thing about Eddie, he always laughed with his full body, the sound vibrating throughout him. He was as physical with his actions as you’ve ever seen among anybody; so distinct to him, “well, sorry.”

“Sorry?” You’re confused, eyebrows pinching together. “For me not being kissed? It’s not that big of a deal, you know.”

“Everyone should get to experience it once,” He defends, hands shoved deep into his front pockets as he shrugs, his head leaned down far enough that his bangs almost obscured his eyes—still, he was looking at you, “it’s important.”

“I’m eighteen—I still have time.” You remind him, “Plus, not everyone has their first kiss at fourteen, Eddie. Some of us are late bloomers.”

Eddie huffs a laugh, seeing the rightful argument you were making—despite that, he couldn’t shake the fact of the matter and what you’d said to him. Had it been true? Was it just a heat of the moment thing? Ruin me. It rang through his head again.

“If it bothers you that much—kiss me.”

The boldness is sudden, but you were over the harping about it—get it out of the way; easily taken care of. Eddie wasn’t a stranger, he was someone you genuinely trusted.

“You sure?” You admire that care he has, leaning away from you slightly to get a full view of your face, noticing just how serious you were.

“If you don’t do it, I will.” You challenge him, feeling your inside burn with anticipation.

Despite Eddie’s unconstrained confidence, he’s second guessing himself during, possibly, the most crucial moment he’s had so far in his young life. He watches the way your eyebrows draw up, almost a—well, what are you waiting for?—type of expression washing over your face.

He shuts everything off; his mind, his thoughts, his anxiety, and leans forward.

His palm is really warm, burning against the already hot skin of your cheek, blushed red with how easily he gave in—you half expected him to back out, stutter his way out of another conversation with you today. And his lips, they’re soft; not like you would expect, still cracked from his constant habit of licking his lips, but they’re plush and warm and perfect as they glide against your own in a careful dance—a balance of sincerity and care.

You make a small noise, a tiny little gasp, feeling the back of Eddie’s hand—the one not holding your face, creeping around to the small of your back, pulling you toward him as he moves to stand between your legs, leaving you crowded back against the table. It’s hard to process while Eddie is kissing you so thoughtfully.

It’s innocent and explorative, but he’s desperately trying not to cross any boundaries, only ghosting the top of his tongue across your top lip by accident when he kisses back too enthusiastically, feeling the way your chest arches toward him, wanting to feel closer to him. You’ve never made out with anyone—if you could call this that, but it’s glorious.

Your hands are still planted against the table, chair holding your legs forgotten, resting lazily against the table, the feeling of denim against denim as your inner thighs rubbed against the rough line of his jeans.

“Well, that’s another box to check off.” You say lightly, taking the opportunity to breathe as Eddie leans away, looking smug at the admission despite his early hesitation. “You really are trying to ruin me, aren’t you?”

It’s meant to sound playful, but it strikes a cord deep inside of Eddie.

“Only if you want me to.” He supplies, taking a small step back, still close enough that you can feel his body heat radiating off of him,

You smile so hard your eyes squint, eyelashes touching at the corners. There was always something about Eddie that you couldn’t quite put your finger on—but maybe this was it. He was a solid reminder that you could enjoy yourself; indulge in what you wanted and not take everything so seriously. He was a needed distraction in your life and you were welcoming it with open arms.

“Give me a ride home?” You ask shyly, poking at his hipbone playfully. Eddie chuckles, grabbing the tender spot like you’d wounded him.

“Your chariot awaits, princess.” Eddie bows, fishing for the keys in his pocket as his arm extends out in waiting.

☆.｡.:*

Eddie’s humming along to the beginnings of another Dio song, kept at a comfortably low volume so it doesn’t burst your eardrums—he knows how much you hate the loud music, despite actually enjoying most of his song choices.

The drive is slow, peaceful—the sticky and warm humid of the air leaking through the half cracked windows; nights like these make you hate the end of summer, the heat nearly unbearable some days.

“The windows still busted,” He tells you, “Otherwise I’d roll it down more.”

“It’s okay, Eddie.” You assure him, pulling at the loose shirt you had on, slipping it over your head—luckily you spare some of your modesty for him, a thin strapped tank top underneath.

It bared a small bit of your midriff—though, Eddie didn’t seem like he was bothered, not from your perspective anyways.

“Any plans tonight?” Eddie asks, hoping to break the silence that had fallen, glancing over at you sparingly.

You smirk to yourself, reading around the context of the question without Eddie realizing. He wasn’t as smooth as he thought he was, clearly.

“You can call me, if that’s what you’re wondering.” You reply smugly, legs crossed over the other, hands resting against your thighs, fingers looped together loosely.

“You—you want me to call?”

“Sure,” You shrug indifferently, “We are still friends, Eddie—we’ve talked on the phone before; if it leads to more…well—“ You shrug again, offering a small, reserved smile.

His brain is not capable of processing this shit. Eddie always had the worst luck in the world, plans always turning upside down on him, things never working out—but this, he couldn’t let this one go. He’s got an idea swirling in his head, but he’s too afraid to say it outright.

“What’s your curfew again?” Eddie asks casually, fingers tapping against the worn steering wheel, the lack of luminosity from the street lights makes it hard to examine his expression, his heart thrumming in his chest like a jackrabbit—it felt like it was going to burst out any second.

“Uh, ten,” You respond, offering a puzzled expression. You quickly grab his wrist, glancing at his watch, “It’s only eight, so I’ve got a couple hours.”

Eddie nods silently, turning down a street that definitely did not lead to your home. His mischievous nature gives him away immediately.

“Eddie,” You speak carefully, drawing out his name, “If this is going to get us arrested you better turn around.”

“Hey, last time was a fluke—“ He defends, quickly skipping past the topic, “besides, you’re safe with me.”

“I know.”

Eddie smiles, turning around a long bend, leading to a closed off wooded area, large lake off in the distance.

“Lover’s Lake?” Confusion hits you, watching Eddie’s eager hands twist the keys from the ignition, bouncing out of his seat and toward your side, opening the door.

“Gotta start your rebellion at some point, right?” He grins, nodding toward the lake.

Your face pulls up, nose scrunched in confusion. Eddie laughs loudly, slipping off the jacket—which despite the heat, he still wore; it was true dedication. But, it doesn’t take you long to fit together the pieces of the puzzle that Eddie was conveniently leaving out.

“Skinny dipping?” Eyes wide, they follow Eddie’s departing figure, jacket tossed haphazardly on the hood of his van. “Eddie—I can’t!”

“Why not?”

“You’re kidding me?” He was so infuriating.

Yet, you still followed him, eagerly.

“What? I won’t look.” Eddie shrugs, toeing off his shoes when you reach the point where water meets muddy foliage. “You’re always talking about how you want to experience more—well, why not this?”

“What if someone comes out here?”

No one ever came out to Lover’s Lake anymore, you both knew that. It was a weak attempt to feign your disinterest, but really, you were a giant bundle of nerves.

“Look—it’s hot as shit, I’m jumping in. You can watch or join, I’m leaving that up to you.” Eddie pulled his shirt over his head, skin stretching over his back—you’ve never realized how beautiful shoulders could be until you’ve seen Eddie’s.

But really, everything was beautiful on him.

“Dammit.” You mumble to yourself, Eddie reaching for the button of his jeans—and you want to avert your eyes, you do, but he’s doing it on purpose; hoping for you to steal a look, a glance—hell, even a peak. It wasn’t like you didn’t already have a vivid picture in your head.

“Last chance, princess.” He calls out, slipping his jeans and boxers off in one fluid movement.

“Eddie!” You gasp, somehow still shocked by his boldness; part of you couldn’t help not being able to grasp what was happening.

He turns to you, hands grasped over the part of himself that you were most intrigued about, your eyes stay locked on his, despite how hard you fight the urge to glance down. Eddie’s looking at you, almost expectantly. You hated how right he was; how badly you wanted to experience as much as possible, yet terrified at the idea.

“Shit—fine, I’ll do it.” You finally cave, Eddie grins wide, turning on his heels to skitter towards the water; the glance you steal of his ass is purely indulgence.

☆.｡.:*

Eddie is underneath the water as you tread through, the cold water against your skin feeling foreign, heart racing in your chest as you dip far enough beneath the surface that enough of your breasts are covered, your hair sticking against your skin from the water splashing back in your face.

“How does it feel?” Eddie asks suddenly, heading popping above the surface, pushing his wet hair away from his face.

It’s strange, not having half of his hair obscuring his face. You smile, though your tone is still entirely deadpan and serious.

“Cold.”

“Not the water,” He laughs, flicking a droplet at your face, “your heart’s racing, isn’t it?”

You nod sheepishly, eyes wandering toward the shore. It was dead, dark, not a car or person in sight. You had nothing to worry about, yet somehow, you couldn’t help but worry—though, it was all mostly harmless.

“We’re safe.” He assures you, wading closer. “Here,” He takes a handful of water and pours it over your hair, wetting the rest of what wasn’t submerged in the lake, “that’s better.”

Your lips purse at the water that drips down your face, eyes squinting at Eddie’s expression; the smugness was evident.

“You’re enjoying yourself too much.” You point out, shoving his hand away gently. “How often do you do this?”

Five, ten, maybe a hundred times, no doubt.

“Never,” Eddie admits, “this is the first time.”

Your hands surface to push his shoulder, a little rougher than you intended. “Then how do you know this is safe?”

He senses your panic, grasping your elbow, his fingers settling in the dip of it, adjusting you to look toward his now abandoned van. “Look,” He points out a particular bend in the forest, a place that looks clear enough but still gives a decent view of the water, “I come out here at least once a week, just to smoke—Wayne hates the smell in the trailer, so, I try to improvise. Either way—no one ever comes out here anymore. Well, aside from me and a few homeless people, but I promise. We’re completely safe.”

You sigh, that small tinge of doubt in your stomach starting to dissipate, still hyper aware of his burning touch, even through the bitter cold of the water.

“You’re corrupting me, you know.” You confess, face turned away from him as you moved away, swimming further from the shore, feet barely touching the lake floor. “Is this all a part of your master plan, Eddie?”

You’re joking, he knows that. He can hear it in your voice, but the idea has something twisting inside of him. Eddie smiles, unbeknownst to you.

“You caught me.”

“You called me the other night with a plan, huh?” You press.

No, he hadn’t.

“Maybe,” He agrees with you, the splash of the waves against your back indicating that he was moving closer, you could hear him, almost predatorily slow. “Does that bother you?”

You shrug. It didn’t, not in the slightest.

“So, what’s your plan now?” You push, feeling the tip of his chest brush against your shoulder blades, just hovering.

And truly, he didn’t have one. It was an idea born out of spontaneity and Eddie flowed from one step to the next, not sure what he was expecting to happen. But, he feels it—the sense of tension that was building, lingering between you both like it had during the call from the previous night.

“Well,” His fingers brush the hair away from your shoulder, touch ghosting over your skin. You can feel his breath, his lips, right against the shell of your ear. You try desperately to hold back the full body shiver that runs through you, “want to check another box off your list?”

His forwardness is an act, a mask to cover how fucking nervous he was. His hands shook as they curled around the back of your neck, but you couldn’t see it—only feeling the dip of his thumb at the start of your spine.

Your head leans back on its own accord, his lips coming into full contact with the side of your face—and he chuckles, you can’t help the way your cunt clenches at the sound, not daring to make any sort of eye contact with your friend, who was pressing himself up against you so openly—feeling every point of him, despite the hindrance of the water. You gulped softly, too quiet for Eddie to hear.

“What do you have in mind?” You finally speak, voice sounding pathetically weak.

“You trust me, right?” He speaks softly, his unoccupied hand reaching around to cover the expanse of your stomach, turning you gently until you face him, “I just want to hear you say it.”

It’s the only thing he cares about—despite the weird mess you’ve both tangled yourself in, he wanted to make sure you were comfortable, the idea of pushing you into something you didn’t want was the last thing he needed.

You nod slowly, his hand creeping around to caress the side of your face, thumb pressed against your jaw as he angles your face to look at him. Say it, his eyes speak, making contact with yours. “Yes, I trust you.”

☆.｡.:*

Eddie’s deliberate in the way he kisses you this time, no fear of having to hold back, it’s full and pleasant and everything you had always expected it to be—albeit, not with Eddie, but you weren’t complaining. His hands are buried in your hair, angling your head up to reach his lips, leaving you to chase them desperately every time he pulls away, adjusting you until you’re pressed up against, nothing but bare skin against bare skin, the peaks of your breasts surface just above the water. The water ripples against your already sensitive nipples, gasping openly into Eddie’s mouth.

Eddie laughs lowly, pulling back to make eye contact with you, his gaze burning into your own. “Sensitive?” He asks coyly. You roll your eyes in casual annoyance, the smirk on his face growing by the second.

“Cold. It’s cold, Eddie.” And truly, it was. Even with the kiss of summer heat and humidity against your skin, the water was nearly freezing. “Want to tell me what you have planned so we can move this along—maybe somewhere out of the water?”

“How do you feel about me going down on you?” He asks sweetly, almost sickening. “That is, if you’re up for it.”

Did he think you were scared? Suddenly faced with the reality of everything, staring him down face to face, you couldn’t help but feel a surge of pride run through your body, realizing just how badly Eddie wanted you. He’s never been this sweet—to anyone.

Eddie knew you were special; different from all the rest, in all the best ways. He knew that from the moment he’d met you, set you up in Hellfire and neatly tucked you under his wing, along with the rest of his friends—but you, you were the one who he thought about when he was most vulnerable, the only person who really knew who he was.

“Gotta see if there’s any truth to those claims, right?” You counter, his face twitching up in amusement.

He doesn’t give you time to react before he’s hauling your legs up and over his hips, wading through water until he’s back on land. He ignores the haphazard pile of clothes, despite your protests, swinging open the door to his van with a free hand, other gripping tightly around your waist. You want to protest, complain and force him to put you down, but made some excuse about not wanting you to get dirty—despite how dirty you felt now, being settled down onto the base of his van, blanket already spread out from Eddie’s frequent use of the space for his own hotbox sessions, he even has a couple of thread-worn pillows shoved in the corner.

And it’s not until you’re finally settled that you realize how intensely Eddie is watching you, hands settled at the base of your ankles. His naked, completely bare—and you can’t remember any other time you’ve seen it before; someone so unashamed of their body, taking time to admire your own just as much. You’ve seen his tattoos up close before, but not like this–the small flurry of bats over his arm, or the few that lingered over his chest, now flushed a light pink from how deeply he was indebted in this.

“Sorry—“ He finally says, noting the small glide of his hands up your shins, then back down, like he’s caressing your legs, “just trying to take a mental note, in case I’m a disappointment and this never happens again.”

You let out a gasp that quickly turns into a small giggle, shoving him gently in the stomach. You were guilty, doing almost the exact same.

He’s toned, which isn’t a surprise—he didn’t try to hide it, those occasionally too tight shirts giving him away. His skin is milky, alabaster white and muddled with light freckles, the trail of hair at the top of his chest leading down to his lower abdomen, just at the base of his dick—which, seriously? He had enough to be proud about, but you half expected him to lie during the call, boost himself up; it was all true. Every single bit.

He’s not fully hard, but it’s still enough to intimidate you—Eddie clears his throat unnecessarily, left eyebrow quirked in amusement.

“Are you still with me?” He asks, arms crawling forward to lean over you slightly, body like a curtain against your own. You try not to think about the proximity, how easily you could reach up and pull him to you, feel that glide of his cock against you—just to put you both out of your misery.

“Hey, you get to see mine, it’s only fair I get to see yours.”

He laughs at that, brushing hair away from your face, lips settling against the line of your jaw, a small chaste peck, then switching to the other side to repeat the process. “Any judgments to be made?” He asks curiously, almost teasing.

“I’m not giving you anymore unnecessary ego boosts, sweetheart.” You say with a saccharine type of sweetness.

Eddie doesn’t need you to elaborate, that was already enough of an ego boost in itself. He tries to ignore the way you’re looking at him, so intently; not that he didn’t want you present in the situation, but he felt like you were looking right through him, sensing every bit of anxiety and nerves that riddled his body like a sickness. It wasn’t his first go at this, but with you—he was too afraid to fuck up.

You see the gears in his brain working overtime, trying to jump that initial hurdle of awkwardness—thankfully, you knew just what to do.

“Can I?” You ask, nodding down to where your hand grazed against his stomach, just above the line of his groin.

“Uh—yeahyeah, of course.” He rushes out, watching your timid fingers graze the tip of his dick, gently grabbing the base of his shaft. You didn’t know what to expect, but the way Eddie’s leaning into your touch is a good enough indication that you weren’t totally fucking things up.

“What feels good?” You ask shyly, your hand at a slow, graceful pace as you tug at him, watching the way he’s forcing himself to breath slower, through his nose.

He rocks his hips gently in time with your hand, “Tighter—a little—yeah, that’s good.” He says, feeling your hand tighten around his cock, the groan he forced back down has you lighting up, almost smiling at the revelation of how easily worked up Eddie could get; it wasn’t a wonder why he had a hard time holding himself off.

“Is this better?” You ask softly, “then—you know, your own hands?”

He chuckles at your curiosity, eyes glancing up to look at you, hair already partly dry, his bangs curtaining his eyes. He had such a timid innocence to him, under this light, in the belly of what could be something dangerous for your friendship—but, neither of you could seem to care anymore.

“So much better.” He nods gently, groaning outwardly at the movement of your thumb sliding over the head of his cock, a small pearl of precum wetting your finger; so you do it again. A few times, until he’s rocking up into your hand in earnest.

“Fuck—we gotta stop.” He warns, swatting your hand away kindly, fingers wrapping around the length of your wrist.

You want to pout, like some spoiled child—but instead you sigh, letting him guide your hands back toward your chest. He doesn’t give much warning before he leans in, capturing the bud of your nipple between his teeth, gently, but the sting is still there—quickly soothed away by the flat of his tongue.

“So pretty–just like I imagined.” He admits pathetically, speech muffled against your skin. That was something to unpack for another day.

You gasped, feeling his mouth capture the other, repeating the process before leaving small, open mouthed caresses against your breasts—you weren’t even sure if you would call them kisses, but they felt good. The warmth of his mouth, the wetness of his tongue, suddenly it was hot again, stuffy in the small containment of the back of his van.

You moan, so softly you weren’t even sure he’d hear it. But, of course he does, pulling back with a salacious and satisfied smile, reaching up to capture your lips in a kiss that can only be described as breathtaking.

Friends definitely didn’t kiss like this. Absolutely not.

“Eddie—Eddie, I still have a curfew.” You force through his assailant of kisses, his tongue a small tease as it traces your bottom lip. You warn him again, this time forcing him to look at you.

And friends definitely didn’t look at each other like that.

☆.｡.:*

He settles between your thighs soon after, wrapping his arms around the outside of your thighs, fingers pressing into the soft flesh there, spreading you open wide, leaving you almost no place to hide.

You take a long, deep breath—reminding yourself that you had nothing to worry about, you were safe here.

“You ready?” Eddie asks, a bouncy eagerness to his voice, feeling the heat of his breath against your cunt, what once was a dull buzz now a steady pulse inside you, deep and needy.

You nod eagerly, Eddie’s hang reaching up to spread your folds apart, finger dragging through jestingly.

“Eddie.” You warn, or beg—you're not sure which, but he understands. You weren't ready for him to sink his fingers inside you, afraid this would all be over quicker than you both wanted.

“I won’t.” He assures you, just applying the small bit of pressure you need to keen forward, grind against the flat of his palm. It was a lot like your own hand, in a way—but also completely foreign. “Just wanna ease you into it.”

And he does, letting you chase the gentle glide of his fingers against your folds, occasionally dragging over the swell of your clit, your hips chasing his hand, over and over again, desperately.

“Need it,” You beg, propped up on your elbows to look down at him, “wanna know.”

You were dying; dying to know.

He bites at the inside of your thigh, soothing the skin with his tongue, trailing a line of quick nips up the sensitive skin. You make a small noise of complaint, begging him to put you out of your misery.

Eddie doesn’t waste anymore time, leaning forward to lick a broad stripe up the seam of your cunt—even the first touch has you reeling, hand immediately tangled in the damp mess of curls at the top of his head.

You hear the messy, embarrassingly loud shlick of your wetness as he laps it, small kitten licks as he leans forward to focus on the soft buttony point of pleasure, sucking experimentally.

It should be a criminal how fucking good Eddie is with his mouth.

“Ohoh—okay, huh,” You ramble breathlessly, moaning out a sensical plethora of nonsense, noises that has Eddie groaning against you, vibrations like a wave of euphoria crashing down on you, “fuck, that feels really good.”

“Keep talking,” He urges, pulling away for half a second before he’s diving back in, face buried so deep into your cunt that you can’t even breath, tongue dipping inside of you carefully.

It caught you off guard completely, gasping out loudly into the air.

“Fuck, Eddie.” And friends definitely don’t say each other’s names like that.

“Too much?” He asks, his expression worried.

You shake your head fervently, “No—good. It’s so good,” You tell him, feeling the lack of motivation to form words now, despite his prior urges. “Keep going, please.”

And he does, openly groaning against your pussy, the sight of him grinding his hips down into blanket; it was something you couldn’t believe with your own eyes, but had you fighting off the urge to turn him over and sink down onto him, no more harping on the big red sign that said ‘I’m a virgin’—you wanted Eddie to consume that part of you completely.

“Come on, baby, wanna hear those pretty little noises.”

You could disintegrate into nothing at those words, letting the soft, wanton moans that you’d been holding back out, spurring him deeper and deeper into his own chase for pleasure, his mouth less controlled—more distracted, but still fucking incredible. He’s so desperate to come with you, reaching down to grab ahold of his cock, pulling idly as he kept up his lazy pace against the inner folds of your cunt, moaning out as his thumb slides over the tip of his cock, precum coating his fingers, making a mess of his own hand.

He speeds up the movement of his tongue, dragging over your clit relentlessly, using his hand to wrap around yours, still buried in his hair, forcing you to pull tighter. And it shouldn’t have come as much of a surprise—but it is, how easily it turns Eddie on by it. You pull roughly, enough to have him moving away from you, looking up at you with wide, dark eyes; pupils blown out.

“Use my face,” He urges, “I want you to.”

You do, chasing exactly what you want—Eddie eagerly slurping up your wetness, grinding your cunt selfishly into him, the tip of nose dragging over your clit sends you toppling over over the edge. He grips both of your thighs, pulling you as wide as your hips allowed—and he’s still going, overstimulating you past the point of what you can handle. He’s drunk on the sounds you’re making, forgetting where he is for the moment. You yank at his hair, hard enough that he groans out, pulling away from your cunt as you rode through your orgasm, you pulse over and over again, nothing there to satiate that need—leaving a dull ache where you were desperate for Eddie to be, fill you up completely; it doesn’t stop you from sobbing out a broken, “Fuck!” as you start to come down, eyes closing from the intensity of your own orgasm.

When you finally come to, Eddie’s face is scrunched up, nose wrinkled at the bridge. His tone is soft, but forced.

“Shitshit—“ He curses, head still held up by the grip you had in his hair, his face tightening as he came, mouth hung open in a silent plea.

You take a second to catch your breath, “What the fuck?” You ask, the ‘was that?’ on the tip of your tongue, but you’re too tired to finish.

Eddie laughs, face riddled with his own exhaustion. “Good, isn’t it?” You nod, loosening the death grip you had on his curls, smoothing out the hair to soothe the sore spot, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind.

“I’ve never come that hard before.” You laugh, falling back against the bed of the van.

“I told you, princess—“ Seeing him from this angle should be a sin, face covered in your wetness, “there’s so much you’re missing out on.”

“No shit.” You smile softly, lifting yourself up to sit, following Eddie as he leaned away, reaching blindly for a discarded shirt in the back of the van, watching as he wiped at the front of his abdomen, covered in his own come.

His eyes flick up, noticing your intense stare, “Enjoying yourself?” He asks, challenging you to look away.

You shrug casually, eyes tracking his movements—“Wait, what time is it?” You ask, the watch on his wrist bringing you back to reality.

Eddie takes a glance at his watch, eyes widening in shared panic, “Fuck—five past ten.”

“Eddie!” You exclaim, “I’m dead—go grab our clothes.”

Eddie scrambled, racing to grab the discarded fabrics, tossing them into the space between you both, dressing quickly.

“If I get caught, you’re dead.” You warn, nearly knocking him over at the grin that spreads across his face.

He was clearly too proud of himself.

☆.｡.:*

“You’re lucky I’m a good climber.” You mention to him, eyeing the dimmed lights through the window of your home.

It was either, a.) walk through the door and risk an earful from a pair of worried parents, or b.) find a way into your second story bedroom and guilt your parents in the morning when they ask why you never came home—reminding them that, yes you did; how could they not notice?

Rebellion was becoming a normal theme in your life and you couldn’t hate how good it felt to feel—Eddie laughs softly behind you, parked across the street.

“Oh, are you?” He teases, arm sling loosely over the back of your seat.

You wish you could hate everything about him, but it was impossible, not with the way he was looking at you.

You scoff in faux disgust, shoving his face in the other direction. “You’re so gross, Eddie.”

He does watch you climb the lattice wall to your window, embarrassingly so, flipping him off in full when you’re finally able to slip through the threshold of your room, quiet enough that the only noise you make is a soft thud on the fuzzy carpet floor.

The high hits you later, curled under the sheets of your bed. It wasn’t Eddie who was influencing you, it wasn’t that easy—it’s because you wanted it. You didn’t want the idea of rebelling and doing everything that your parents tried to scare you out of, you wanted Eddie.

You wanted him as the friend he’d always been, but so much more than that. Eddie was always good at forcing you out of your comfort zone, for good, and you couldn’t help that love you had for that fear; of unknown and new experiences.

And he does call you that night, but not for any other ludicrous reason than to talk—hear you, listen to the tiny inflictions in your voice when he makes some stupid joke. He was in love with you, he already knew that—he was just waiting for you to catch up, dawn on the feeling that you had buried for so long, too afraid of rejection.

Eddie could absolutely ruin you; he already was.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #my writing #1kfic

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reysdriver · 11 months

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The Best Father's Day Gift | J.P

Harry unknowingly gives James the best Father's Day Gift ever — dad!james x mom!reader fluff

Warnings: none :)

Words: 0.6k

For the family’s first Father’s Day since Harry was born, you wanted to make everything special for James just like he’d done for you a month ago on Mother’s Day.

You woke up early and brought your son with you so James wouldn’t be woken up if Harry started crying. Maybe it was the smell of you making breakfast or maybe your giddy energy was just contagious, but Harry was so adorably happy that morning that within a few minutes of waking him up and feeding him breakfast, you weren’t even worried about him crying anymore.

Right as you finished preparing the plate, you fed Harry some diced tomatoes that were left over, which he happily ate up. You wiped some drool off his chin, then picked him up in the hand not occupied by your husband’s breakfast and walked back to your bedroom.

Resting the plate on your dresser, you leaned down to rub James’ bicep and kiss him on the forehead.

“Good morning, Jamie. Happy Father’s Day.”

“Good morning, my love.” He said groggily, then sat up and grabbed his glasses from his nightstand. “And good morning to you, Haz. I wouldn’t be a father if you weren’t here, so I’m glad you could make it.”

Harry reached a chubby hand up to James’ face and your husband pretended to eat his fingers. You couldn’t contain a giggle at how adorable the scene was.

It was painful, but you had to interrupt them before the food started getting cold. “We made you breakfast.” You then placed Harry on the bed and grabbed the food from the dresser and showed it to James.

“You made me a full English?” He asked, and you just smiled in return. James then turned to the baby boy beside him. “Your mum made me my favourite, and I bet you just watched her while eating your fingers.”

You feigned insult and ran to reassure your son. “No, you were there helping so much with moral support because you love your daddy, right baby?”

Harry’s mouth fell open and he tried pushing out more than just his usual babbles. “Da-di.”

James put down his forkful of food and you both looked at each other with wide eyes. “He just—”

You nodded. “Mhm. Haz, say that again. ‘Daddy’, try it again.” It was unnecessary, but you wanted to make sure he really said it and you didn’t just both imagine it.

But he definitely said it. And proved it by doing it again. “Daddy!” He said enthusiastically now that you were both encouraging him.

You and James were both over the moon. It was his first real word, and the timing was just perfect. You scooped him up and pressed a bunch of kisses onto his squishy cheeks, then handed him to James so he could also celebrate.

“You said ‘daddy’!” James said happily. He tickled your son, which made him burst out into a fit of gurgles and laughter, even though the 11 month-old had no idea why you two were so excited. “This is the best Father’s Day gift I could ever ask for!”

“We have more surprises for you throughout the day, but I know none of them will match up to this.” You half-joked.

James continued bouncing Harry on his lap. “Maybe you have to save them until next year, my love.”

#james potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #james potter x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #dad!james potter #dad!marauders #marauders era #marauders fluff #fathers day

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xhoneygirlxx · 8 months

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Miss Americana & The Heartbreak Prince

Steve Harrington x Reader

summary: The cheerleading and boy's basketball coaches are the talk of Hawkins High. When they can't seem to put two and two together, the students have to take matter into their own hands to get the pair together.

warnings: fluff. Steve and reader are both in their 20s. gender/body size/ethnicity are not discussed (the name of the fic was simply picked based off of one line). a little cameo from our favorite metal head. a bit sappy but who cares. idiots in love. we stan the students in this fic, they were doin god's work frfr. also modern au! spelling errors/shitty writing, i'm sick so forgive me for any mistakes lmao.

*if i miss anything please let me know*

a/n: As we all know, today would have been the last day of Honey's birthday bash. That was the plan my friends but bc of party festivities, hangovers, and now a bad cold, we are now behind on schedule. Thank you all for hanging in there with me :) I hope you all enjoy this, love you bunches!

The whole school is rolling fake dice.

Whispers traveled through the echo chamber hallways, bets being placed with the shaking of hands, and gossip being passed back and forth in the lunchroom like a breadbasket at dinner. All anyone could talk about was the two coaches that were blind to their own attraction to one another.

Unbeknownst to you and Steve, you guys were in the middle of a storm of circulating rumors since the beginning of the season. From the moment you two met all hell broke loose, a wildfire spreading through the classrooms of the school.

Everyone could see how much you liked each other, it was so clear like the scoreboard that shined brightly in the gym, except for you. The perfect love story, the cheerleader and jock, it was bound to happen sooner or later.

It started as a game between the cheerleaders and the basketball players, betting on who would break first and finally make it official. Soon it became a game amongst the rest of the student body, all of them biting at their nails and crossing their fingers in the hope that one of you would crack.

To everyone's disappointment, neither of you ever did. It was exhausting watching the two of you dance around your clear feelings for one another. The two of you tried to play it cool, act like any of the accusations were just that, accusations. But it was there, bright as day, on display for the whole world to see.

It was in the way your eyes would find each other's in a crowded room, feather light touches that would linger for way too long, shy smiles and rosy cheeks. The way you talked to one another was anything but two people who worked together. It was teasing, flirty, and breathless any time you talked.

There was a big wager for this whole thing, which team would win the biggest check and which one would have to fork over all the money. The cheerleaders and half of the school had their money on Steve, his reputation as a ladies man helping them with their decision. The basketball team and the other half of the school bet on you, knowing you were more outspoken then he is.

Now it's been months since the bets were placed but neither of you finally crossed over the line from friends to lovers. So the cheerleaders did what they do best, they rallied everyone on their side, made a plan that would guarantee their win.

Winter formal was only a week away, both of you were sure to chaperone without a date. So the cheerleaders got to work, making sure their plan would be executed flawlessly.

Phase #1: Plant the seeds

Two loud knocks against the heavy wood door of Steve's office bring him out of his computer screen. Shouting a come in, he's met with the sight of the student council president, Lauren McPhee who holds a white paper.

"Sorry to bother you but I need this form filled out for the dance next week!" She's too chipper for a Monday morning, smiling brightly like the sun that hangs in the cold December sky.

"Oh yeah, let me just get a pen." Wheeling back on his desk chair, Steve begins to pat his shirt while looking around at his cluttered desk for the writing instrument.

Once he snatches the ballpoint pen from under the stack of papers, Steve grabs the flimsy sheet from Lauren's hand and scribbles down his signature on every empty line.

"Alrighty, there you go." With a tight lipped smile, he hands it back to the nice girl.

Steve watches as her eyes flit over the paper, flipping it front to back to make sure everything is filled out properly. When her features twist in confusion he can't help but wonder why.

"Everything look good?" He questions and she shakes her head while still reading over the curled letters of his name.

"Y-yeah, it's just," pulling her lip between her teeth, Lauren begins to chew on it anxiously, "the section for your date has been left blank. Excuse me if I'm crossing a line here, coach, but you're not bringing a date?"

Her voice is sympathetic, lips pulled into a deep from and her eyes sparkling with pity as she looks at the older man. Steve isn't sure why she seems so upset about him going alone or why it would be a problem, but when she looks at him like a dog that's been kicked he feels the need to answer.

"Oh, well I don't really have anyone to take. Plus it's more important for me to be paying attention to the punch bowl to make sure no asshole- I mean jerk, spikes it." With a forced laugh, he waits to see if his answer is enough to suffice the girl's curiosity.

"O-oh that makes sense I guess, I just though maybe you and the cheerleading coach would go together. You know cause they're also going alone and from what they told me, they never been to their winter formal before." Shrugging, the girl moves her sights from him back to the paper.

"They told you that?" Steve's answer is met with a hesitant nod from the girl. "I-I didn't know that." He breathes.

"At least they'll finally be able to go, right?" Again she shrugs, pulling a folder from her bag to put the paper away.

"Wait!" It comes out louder than he expected, cringing slightly at his volume. "Can I hold onto that and then had it in later?"

"Sure! I'll be back on Wednesday." A sunny smile shines at him, the white paper being passed back to him. "See you then, coach."

Waving him goodbye, Lauren shuts the door behind her where the cheerleaders wait for her. With a singular thumbs up, they begin to jump with joy only for a moment before moving on to phase two.

Phase #2: Destroy the band room

Now destruction of school property was not something any student was willing to get written up for, but with the help of an adult maybe they wouldn't have to.

Mr. Munson was the band instructor and drama teacher, as well as Steve Harrington's right hand man. Before he was an educator, Eddie Munson menaced these halls for many years. Before getting his act together and after he quit selling weed to the students in the woods, he worked as an apprentice for a while, following a plumber around for months while he went to college for education.

"Mr. Munson come on, don't you want to see your bestie finally get a happy ending?" Karissa Thomas batted her eyelashes at him as she begged for his help.

"I don't know guys, I could get into a lot of trouble." Rubbing his forehead, Eddie sighs as he weighs out his options in his head.

"Think of it this way, you can finally give principle Higgins the finger. At least metaphorically." Anthony Whitmer adds.

"Plus, we'll give you some of the profits." Mark, another band kid pleads from the group.

Eddie leans against his desk wide eyed, smirking slightly at his band students. Who knew they would be so devious.

"Fuck it, I'm in." The group before him shout in victory while Eddie laughs devilishly. Somethings never changes, he thinks.

So this morning when he arrived at school, Eddie made sure that no one was around when he began fucking with the pipes. After about twenty minutes and sore upper arms, he finally succeeds by springing a leak.

When he reported the leak to principle Higgins, he was met with a side eye before getting the approval of the gym slot after school, which meant you and your team would be forced to share with Harrington and his team until it got fixed.

Phase #3: Offer planning services to coach Harrington

Now to bring this whole plan together, cheer captains Dan Morrison and Amber Hall needed to be in the same place at the same time as Steve Harrington. The only problem was his office and where he usually occupied the most was the east wing of the school. The east wing was the closest to his office and it was the least traveled hallways out of the whole school.

That meant they needed to make it look like they were that way for a reason. Luckily for them, the art room was also in the east wing, so they would make it look like they were grabbing poster boards for last minute winter formal posters.

Lunch time was the best time to put this into motion, so the minute the 11:50 bell rang, Dan and Amber sprinted to the east wing in the hopes they would catch him.

After rummaging around for glitter, markers, and poster boards, the two waited at the door, peaking over the frame in the hopes to catch the older man. When the door of his office opened, the two seniors began to walk out of the room talking about random things to not make it look so obvious.

In the hopes of sparking a conversation with him, Amber dropped the container of markers causing colorful pens to fall all over the hard floor.

"Amber, I told you not to drop them!" Dan laughs, putting the white posters to the floor in order to pick up the rolling markers.

"You made me laugh!" The girl argues back, laughing loudly as she crouches to help.

"I didn't even do anything." He replies, making the girl laugh even harder at his comment.

The echo of Steve's heavy footsteps could be heard by both teenagers, but they ignore it so he wouldn't catch on.

"You guys cool?" Steve asks, crouching down to help pick up what fell.

"H-hi coach," Amber greets, catching her breath from her heavy laughter, "We're okay, Dan just made me drop these."

The boy in question huffs and rolls his eyes playfully, continuing his actions of gathering the rest of what's on the floor.

"So what are you guys doing with all this, anyway?" Steve asks, pushing off on his knees to stand.

"Oh, just last minute posters for the dance." Dan says nonchalantly as he gathers his pile of supplies.

"You're going, right?" The young girl asks and Steve responds with a small sigh, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Yeah I'll be there." Nodding his head, the man places his hands on his hips looking at the two kids in front of him.

"That's fun! Are you bringing a date?" Amber wiggles her eyebrows.

Shoving her playfully, Dan looks at her with a gasp. "Oh my gosh, Amber you can't just ask that. Sorry, coach." Doing his best to look sympathetic, Dan offers his best smile to the older man.

"It's okay, Dan," Steve places a hand out, looking at the brown haired boy, "Actually, I was wondering if you guys could help me with that."

"Sure!" The cheerleaders agree in unison.

"Let's talk about this in my office." Pointing a thumb to the end of the hall, spinning of the ball of his foot to lead the way.

Steve defiantly doesn't see how bright both of the teen's smiles are from where they walk behind him and he surely doesn't see them giving each other a high five.

Phase #4: Get you to go to the parking lot before practice

This phase was probably the hardest of them all. You were very keen on punctuality, always the first to be at the building to make sure everything was set up. Now that you'd be sharing the gym with the basketball team, you were more than likely to be there a whole lot earlier than usual.

Now this is where the most important players come in, Lauren Hernandez and Simon Carter. The two freshmen were bright stars at Hawkins High, the leading members of the mathletes and very trust worthy students.

When this whole plan started it was known that they'd need someone who was convincing to divert your attention, so the two meek students volunteered without a second thought. The amount of money they'd win if coach Harrington made the first move was way more important than credibility at this point.

When they spotted you coming through the outside gym door, the two kids began to put on their show. Rushing through the two gymnasium doors, Lauren and Simon pant acting as if they ran a mile.

"C-coah, we need-" Simon bends over, bracing his hands on his knees while breathing heavily, "We need your help!"

You immediately drop your bags, sprinting over to the two youths. Worry is written all over your face, eyes immediately checking for any visible injuries on them.

"I-is everything okay? What's wrong? Are you hurt?" Placing a hand on your chest, you wait for them to catch their breath.

"There's a fight outside. Max Newman and Devon Lewis are fighting in the parking lot." Lauren rushes out, eyes wide and glassy under the gym lights.

You're more than shocked at the news, the two boys have been great friends the whole time you've coached them. In a flash, you urge both kids to get coach Harrington from his office while you break up the fight.

What you don't know is neither Simon or Lauren have to get him, waiting until the slam of the heavy gym door both run after you to make sure they don't miss a single moment.

Rushing through the entrance doors, the cold winter chill instantly hits you but you don't pay too much attention to it when there isn't a fight happening.

When you walk outside, you see your team of cheerleaders lined up on both sides of the steps, a red rose in each hand. As you walk, they hand them to you, bright smiles on each of their faces when they do.

You can't speak with the amount of confusion that runs through your brain. Even though you want to ask them what all of this is about, you just let your feet carry you out into the parking lot.

You jump slightly when you hear Wildest Dreams being play, the only difference is the band kids stand off to the side with their instruments. Giggling slightly, you imagine Eddie Munson teaching his kids a Taylor Swift song but Bridgerton style.

With a bundle of roses in hand, you continue out into the snow covered parking lot. Under the street lights you see him standing with his hands in his pockets. Behind him stands some of the drama kids, holding big white posters. Taking a moment to read the blue and silver lettering, you gasp when it finally hits you.

F O R M A L ?

Tears prick your eyes and not just because of the cold winter wind. The thought and dedication that went into this must've taken so much (more than both of you even realize), you're heart beaming with the thought of Steve putting this together.

"So what do you say, coach? Will you do me the honors of being my date to the dance?" Steve's cheeks are red and his teeth glimmer under the florescent lights.

You can't help but let more tears fall, all of the pining and wishing finally coming true under the darken sky, right where the two of you first met. It feels too good too be true, a real life fairytale happening in real time.

"Of course I will." It comes out loud enough for only him to hear, the two of you looking at each other in adoration.

In a split moment, Steve's strong hands pull you in and wrap you in the tightest hug, something you dreamt of all this time. Even in the cold temperatures, his body heat, his touch holds the heat of a thousand suns.

The roaring cheer of all of those around you, besides the band who continue to play, fills the open air. You and Steve are so wrapped up in each other you don't even notice the flash of the camera, Andrew Johnson of the yearbook committee getting multiple shots of the whole thing.

Pulling back enough to look at one another, you smile brightly up at him. Steve looks so pretty like this, cherry nose, snow flurries collecting in his eyelashes and hair, and a smile so sweet it could rot your teeth.

"I can't believe you did all of this." You say with a laugh, shaking your head in amazement.

Chuckling slightly, he looks down bashfully at you. "Yeah well, I had some help." The two of your look all around the parking lot where multiple students stand, all from different clubs, groups, and social brackets beam and cheer for the two of you.

The two of you turn back to one another, gooey looks on both of your faces and love filling your eyes. "Who would've thought." You say breathlessly and he agrees.

"Can I kiss you?" It's breathless and hopeful when Steve says it, and you're answer is just as breathless.

Connecting his lips to yours felt like two puzzle pieces fitting together, it's feels like home, and it feels right. Like a snow globe, you and Steve are frozen for just a moment under the December snow.

I hope you all enjoy! Love you all <3

#steve harrington smut #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington blurb #honey's birthday bash #honey's holiday celebrations

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jellyjays · 1 year

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come away, oh ghostly child... (pt 3)

(PT 2 <-) (-> PT 4)

Dick lays in bed.

Phantom is tucked into his side, snuggling into his warmth. Dick doesn't know what to do. Whenever he moves even a millimeter away from the child, Phantom whines and snuggles back in, searching for comfort.

He supposes it's his fault. He'd brought the boy home, unsure what the protocol was for a ghost child. He'd laid the boy down on his bed, getting undressed and changing into pajamas before plopping down, intending to get up after a second and find out what to do.

That was when the boy had struck. Now he's here, stuck. It's like when a cat lays on your lap. It would be sacrilege to move and disturb them.

Sighing, Dick uses the hand on his free side to grab his phone. He's lucky it's close, or he'd be fucked.

He calls Babs, linking the audio to the comm still in his ear.

"Hey Dick, what's up?"

"Babs. I have a... situation."

"A situation, huh? Would this have anything to do with the call I got from Jason laughing his ass off about you taking after Bruce?"

"Damnit, I told him about this in confidence! Asshole. And he claims he's not a gossip."

"So, you've acquired a child."

"A ghost child, who can apparently turn into an alive child. Still confused about that."

"Hold up. You never said anything about a ghost. You're telling me you have the ghost kid who's been haunting Gotham for the past 3 months?"

"That I am."

"And said ghost kid turned into a living kid and fell asleep on you."

"Affirmative."

Babs sighs over the line.

"Go to sleep, Dick, and worry about it in the morning. Usually, I'd say something different, but you sound dead tired. Get some sleep, and hopefully, the kid will, too. We'll just hope he's there in the morning."

Dick wakes up, not realizing he'd fallen asleep. A glance at the phone in his hand tells him it's 7.

When he moves, he's interrupted by Phantom snuggling into his side again, chasing after his warmth.

Dick wastes no time in scooping the boy up to hold on his hip, which seems to work fine because Phantom doesn't protest.

He doesn't bother trying to change- still in his pajamas, he heads out to his kitchen with Phantom on his hip. He rifles through his fridge, looking for anything suitable for a young child- he has some eggs that are miraculously still good, some fruit he bought the day before, a pack of bacon, and some bread. Why is his bread in the fridge? He doesn't know. Ask past Dick, who probably made this choice while sleep-deprived.

Time to find out if cold bread makes bad toast.

Dick sets about making breakfast one-handed- he starts by putting the bacon on. While that cooks, he puts the bread in the toaster, then he scrambles the eggs. The eggs are finished quickly, so as the toast finishes and the bacon sizzles, he begins to dice some fruit. As he plates the breakfast, Phantom begins to stir, probably smelling the bacon and eggs.

Just as Dick sets the breakfast on the table, Phantom wakes up with a big yawn.

"Morning, sleepyhead. I made breakfast."

Phantom, still half asleep, nods and wiggles, so Dick sets him down in the chair, pulling his own chair out to sit across from the boy.

Phantom stares blearily at his breakfast, a fork in his hand.

Then he lights up.

"The- the breakfast has a smiley face!"

"Yeah, buddy, it does," Dick smiles, just the tiniest bit proud that his idea had cheered the boy up- the breakfast was a slice of toast with bacon in the shape of a smile and two strawberry slices for eyes. The scrambled eggs and other fruit sat on opposite sides of the toast.

"That's so cool!"

Dick smiles, and motions for Phantom to eat up. The boy obliges, digging into the fruit first. Dick eats as well, somewhat thankful for having something other than cereal for the first time in what has to be a month.

"My name's Danny," Phantom- no, Danny says unprompted.

"It's nice to meet you, Danny. I'm Dick."

Danny smiles and says, "Big Brother Dick!"

Dick blinks.

"No, buddy, I'm not your big brother, just Dick."

Danny's smile falls.

"But Gotham says... she says you're my brother, she says you're safe. You're my big brother, Gotham says you're her kid same as me!"

And oh, the boy is close to tears- what is Dick supposed to do here?" Deny or play along?

"Sure then, buddy. Yeah. I can be your big brother."

And there's that smile again- oh, what has Dick just done?

tags: @basilf1res @angelheartgamer @justgray15777 @terzatheunderscorerima @phantom120 @undead-essence @crazydoughnutlady @big-flrda-kys @rangerhorsetug @shamelessstudenthideout @nonbinary-disaster @keegan-parker @i-am-the-asian-persuasion @terrasolstice @eonic @mayoota-blog1 @theonewiththegays @glitchedchaos

(hopefully i got everyone!)

bonus sketch:

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #gotham #dc #batman #batfam #nightwing #dick grayson

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pinkiedev · 8 days

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Borrowers Using Things as Other Things

So, I made that drawing where a borrower uses a leaf as an umbrella (here), and now here's a list of other items a borrower might 'misuse!'

----

An acorn top = a hat

A hair elastic = a belt

A dish towel = an extra-large full-body towel XD

A handkerchief = a blanket

A sock = a sleeping bag

A beanie hat = a nest

A big ol' boot = another nest

A bunch of feathers = bedding for nest

A toothpick = a walking stick

A needle = a sword (fencing style??)

A thumbtack = a dagger

A fishing hook = a grapple

A piece of graphite = a pencil

A string = a rope (especially if twined into a thicker braid)

A string of floss = ... a waxy rope??

A toothbrush head = a brush (for pet mice?)

A nail file = a sanding board (for smoothing rough wood)

An old mouthwash lid = water storage container OR a laundry hamper

An empty lip balm tin = a (food) storage container

An ice cube tray = a multi-compartment storage bin

A bottlecap = a bowl/cup

A thimble = a flowerpot

A teacup = a bathtub

A shiny coin/button = a portrait/decoration

A watch = a wall clock

A ring = a crown

A bracelet = a decorative sash

A circlet earing = a necklace

A silver necklace = a long chain (for what?? idk?!? leash for mouse??)

A fork = a clothing hanger (on the prongs)

A match = a torch

A ruler = a height-measuring stick

A popsicle stick = a leg splint (kept tight with scotch tape)

An old Rubik's cube/children's block = a table

A pair of dice = a set of chairs

A paintbrush = a broom

Extra:

Whatever that little white plastic thing is called that comes on the center of a pizza sometimes and looks like a teeny table. Except now actually used as a table XD

#g/t #gt community #gt writing #borrower #giant tiny #giant/tiny #borrowers #story ideas #sfw g/t #g/t thoughts

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the-cornuthaum · 3 months

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So we got the stats for IS3 today, with its runtime officially over.

0.16% of doctors collected all relics.

And we all fucking know why. Because of head-ass relics like Pathfinder Fin (you will literally never get this if you don't play with the Dice squad), Silver Forks and Cathedral Puzzle.

This got me to think long and hard about why I ended up *not* 100%ing all of IS3 - I never got the Pathfinder Fin even after I did All Endings All Squads before the content expansion, and I just couldn't make myself grind more dice squad (which I did not enjoy, as the dice mechanic largely sucked until the content expansion)

Goodbye IS3. You were in so many ways a huge improvement over IS2. No longer did we have to do 5-6 runs just to get to see the ending 3 or 4 encounter chain happen once. The maps were much faster and generally more challenging. You had a much more fleshed-out difficulty system. Better relics that led to more fun combos.

Goodbye IS3. You were a fucking disappointment full of glaringly half-baked implementations and poor design decisions. Whether it was the completely asinine unlock requirements for some of your relics, the completely binary light mechanic where you either had 100 light or no light as far as curses went, the poorly laid out difficulty curve (+1 hope cost, literally the single biggest swing, at level 4? rather than the nothingburgers that they put at 13 and 14?), two of the worst bosses in all of Arknights (I'm looking at you, The Last Knight and Izumik) and generally the lingering feeling that you could have been SO much better if only they'd actually put more thought into the supporting mechanics for each run.

I will miss you, but not nearly as much as I could have.

#arknights #integrated strategies #is3

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citruslullabies · 3 days

Note

hii, I hope you're well! idk if you are still accepting requests, but if you are, i wanted to ask you for a dogday x reader inspired by the song "100 years" from the clover álbum (made by Or30) Where dogday before being...dogday, was reader's husband, who never showed up again after going to work one day, i think that song I would fit very well for this

(sorry for my bad english btw)

💜🐈‍⬛

Of course darling! And no worries, your English is good!

Trigger warnings: none that I can think of

Romantic/platonic?: romantic

Requested by: mauumeow

Category: angst

Ship (romantic or platonic): Dogday x reader

Word count: 1021

100 years

The cabin was still and quiet as you stood in the kitchen, dicing up carrots for dinner only for one instead of two.

The table had two chairs, and your bedroom had a bed meant for two and two night stands. Clothes meant for you and clothes meant for someone else who couldn't even wear them anymore, left untouched in your closet. You sighed and shut your eyes for just a moment as sorrow that attacked you every day came in for battle. It had been ten years, and yet you could still never get over him and it was pitiful for you to admit you still loved him.

You still remembered the day he left like it was yesterday, August 8th 1995. You were in the kitchen making breakfast for two, having two plates out and two servings made, two napkins and two forks. As you cooked your scrambled eggs and flipped your bacon, a smile creeped onto your lovely face as you felt arms come around your waist and a nuzzle against your neck.

“G’morning…” Your husband tiredly mumbled, his large hands delicate against you no matter how rough and calloused. You chuckled and glanced back at him, admiring how he looked so put together but acted as if he wasn't ready to face anything let alone the day. You continued to cook and pressed your lips against his temple delicately.

Adoration wasn't the word you'd use to describe how you felt, or love. Those words just simply didn't feel strong enough to use but you knew no other words for it. “Good morning, handsome. Sleep well?” You cooed to your husband that acted like a dog, loyal and loving every day and struggled to tear himself away from your side.

He nodded dazily, and smiled as he smelled the air. He reached over to grab a piece of bacon which earned him a swat to the hand, making him groan and pout. “You're so mean to me.” He complained. You simply rolled your eyes and giggled while continuing to prepare breakfast for the two of you as he took a seat and adored you from afar. You were his everything, even if you two got married later than some. You were 38 and he was 42, only having been married for two years but he wouldn't have it any other way. His brown eyes glimmered with happiness as he saw you approach with two plates, setting them down as you kissed him in which he happily reciprocated.

During the kiss, you separated your lips just momentarily to reply to his previous comment. “Love hurts, Rich.” You hummed before kissing him for just a moment more, taking a seat when you were done and left him in a daze. Even after being with you for so long and married so short, you still had him in the puppy love phase and he couldn't drag himself out of it. He playfully poked your ribs and started to eat his pancakes first. “Yeah yeah, I know.”

The morning went smoothly as always, with Rich scarfing down his breakfast and just adoring you while you finished up. Then his least favorite part came which was leaving, he sighed as you fixed his tie and hair while he was at the door. “Maybe I should call out today.. just spend the day here with you.” He murmured, causing you to raise an eyebrow and hum in amusement.

“Well, while that would be nice.. we can't really afford it right now Rich. Just go in and I promise, we can cuddle and watch a movie on our DVD player when you get back.” You said softly, since you still had a rented out DVD player to put to use. He nodded and gave you a kiss with a delicate squeeze to the hips, before leaving.

That was the last time you ever saw him. Now here you were in the kitchen alone in a cabin you two had bought together, 48 and getting grays and wrinkles. You still loved him after ten years and didn't dare touch anything that was his after he left, the thought of getting rid of anything hurt you more. It was 2005 and today marked 10 years, and honestly you hoped he came home most days. Others you honestly hoped you developed dementia early just to forget about him but it wasn't that easy.

You still felt his touch lingering on your skin, still felt his lips pressed against yours and your neck and the house still smelled like him in a way. Your loved ones had tried so desperately to get you to move on, go on dates and go to clubs but it never felt right. It always felt like you were cheating on a man that wasn't even there anymore.

You lost your appetite which was a normal occurrence since that day, but finished cooking before putting the leftovers in the fridge. Your body wasn't the same as it used to be, with age and loss of appetite from a broken heart. The floorboards creaked beneath your feet, aging with you as you waited and walked into the living room. You sat on your spot on the couch, looking over at the one beside you that you never allowed anyone else to sit in. With a soft sigh you glanced at the window and waited patiently, like you did that night. You waited for hours and didn't fall asleep, not once and you fretted the worse may have happened and maybe it did. Your heart yearned for him and it ached no matter what you did to fill it. Nothing could remedy it and you knew that.

You still loved him, but the memory of his face was fading and all you had to remember it were photos from your wedding but they hurt to look at. Everything around you caused you nothing but pain and memories that you wished you could claw out of your brain and start anew but you stayed.

You stayed and waited just a little bit longer hoping he'd come back.

Thank you so much for requesting!

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