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pucksandpower · 1 month

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Man’s World

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari engineer!Reader

Summary: Charles refuses to just stand by and watch as you get disrespected

Warnings: misogyny and lewd comments

You’re admiring the sleek lines of the red Ferrari F8 Tributo in front of you, running your fingers lightly over the glossy paint. The showroom is quiet this early in the morning, just a few employees milling about getting ready for the day.

Charles had to stop by to sign some merchandise for a charity event and asked if you wanted to tag along. You opted to wait out front and enjoy the eye candy while he took care of business.

You circle around to the back of the car, appreciating the aggressive styling and massive rear diffuser. As an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari who often extends your expertise to working on their road cars, you know every detail of this machine intimately. Your hands itch to pop the hood and inspect that glorious twin-turbo V8, but you resist.

This isn’t your workshop back in Maranello.

Lost in thought, you don’t notice the group of guys entering the showroom until one whistles loudly. “Hey baby, those legs look good enough to wrap around me real tight,” one calls out.

You freeze, feeling your heart rate pick up.

“Don’t be shy, we just want to get to know you better,” another says as they swagger over.

You press back against the car, sizing up the situation. Four of them, all clearly well-off based on the expensive watches and designer clothes. But their eyes are cruel as they look you up and down.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this?” The apparent ringleader asks. “Hoping to sink your claws into some rich guy and take him for all he’s worth?” The others laugh nastily.

You lift your chin. “Actually, I happen to work for Ferrari.”

The man snorts in disbelief. “Yeah right, and I’m Michael Schumacher. There’s no way a woman knows anything about these cars other than where the passenger seat is.”

You clench your fists, biting back a scathing retort. The thought of educating these misogynistic jerks gives you immense satisfaction, but you know it won’t do any good. They’ll never change their prejudiced attitudes.

“Don’t listen to him, darling,” one says, giving you a lecherous look. “I’d be happy to take you for a ride, show you how a real man handles power between his legs.”

You’re about to tell him exactly where he can shove his stereotypes when a familiar voice interrupts sharply.

“That’s enough.”

You look over to see Charles striding angrily toward you, green eyes blazing. The men surrounding you look irritated at having their fun spoiled.

“Can we help you with something, pal?” The ringleader asks sarcastically.

Charles ignores him, coming to stand protectively beside you. “Are you okay, mon amour?” He asks under his breath.

You nod, relief washing over you now that he’s here. “I’m fine.”

Charles turns an icy stare on the men who’d been harassing you. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t speak to my girlfriend that way,” he says coldly.

The leader looks Charles up and down dismissively. But then a spark of recognition crosses his face. “Wait a minute … you’re Charles Leclerc!” He elbows his friends. “The Formula 1 driver!”

The others’ eyes widen as they take in Charles with new understanding. “Whoa, seriously?” One exclaims.

The leader chuckles, clearly trying to recover his bravado. “Well, what do you know? The famous racer has a pretty girl on his arm.” His lips curl in a smirk. “Hate to break it to you, but it’s obvious she’s just using you for your money. No way she knows anything about these cars other than how much they cost.”

Charles crosses his arms. “As it so happens, my girlfriend is an engineer for Scuderia Ferrari, so I’d bet my entire net worth — and my car collection — that she knows more about the cars in this dealership than all four of you combined and then some.”

You have to bite your lip to hide a smile at the dumbfounded looks on the men’s faces.

“An engineer?” One sputters. “You can’t be serious.”

You level a challenging stare at them. “Deadly serious. I’ve personally worked on over a dozen projects for Ferrari, including the SF90 Stradale hypercar we just launched.” You point across the showroom. “There’s one right over there, in fact. Mid-front mounted 4.0L twin-turbo V8, delivering 769 brake horsepower combined with three electric motors. First plug-in hybrid Ferrari ever put into full production.” You smirk at the slack-jawed stares your technical rundown elicits. “So yes, I’d say I know a thing or two about these cars.”

Charles grins proudly and squeezes your hand. But the leader is not ready to back down just yet.

“Anyone can memorize a monologue,” he scoffs. “I don’t buy it. You’re clearly just clinging to this guy for his money.”

Fury rises in your chest. You open your mouth to retaliate, but Charles beats you to it.

“That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about,” he snaps, green eyes blazing. “I’d be very careful with what you say next.”

The man smirks, crossing his bulky arms over his chest. “Or what, tough guy?”

Charles takes a step forward, jaw clenched. The man towers over him but Charles doesn’t flinch.

Right as it looks like things might get physical, you quickly take Charles’s arm. “He’s not worth it,” you murmur.

Charles hesitates, nostrils flaring. After a tense moment, he relaxes his stance and turns his back on the leering man.

But it seems the group isn’t done provoking you yet. “That’s right, listen to your sugar baby,” one of them calls out. “Wouldn’t want you messing up that pretty face for the cameras.”

Charles whips back around, shaking with anger now. Heart pounding, you cling to his arm in an effort to hold him back. “Charles, please-”

“No, Y/N.” He shakes off your hand, stalking toward the men. “I won’t stand here and let them insult you.”

You watch helplessly as Charles gets right in the leader’s face, nearly nose to nose. “You need to apologize. Now,” he grits out.

The man narrows his eyes. “Apologize? For what? Stating the obvious?” He smirks coldly. “Face it, your little girlfriend is nothing but a gold diggin-”

He doesn’t get to finish the sentence. With lightning speed, Charles’ fist connects squarely with his jaw. The man stumbles back with a pained shout, hand flying to his face.

“Charles!” You hurry to his side, alarmed. Charles is breathing hard, staring down at the man doubled over and groaning. The man’s friends back away nervously.

Chest heaving, Charles turns to you. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t listen to him insult you for another second.”

You meet his fiery gaze steadily. “It’s okay, I understand. Thank you for defending me.” After a beat, you add wryly, “And remind me not to get on your bad side.”

That startles a small laugh from Charles. The tension in his shoulders eases. He takes your hand, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “No chance of that, mon ange,” he murmurs. “You bring out the best in me.”

***

“Ow, ow, ow!” Charles hisses as he gingerly holds his right hand. His knuckles are bruised and bleeding.

You sigh, grabbing the first aid kit to tend to your dramatic boyfriend. “I told you not to punch him, Charles. You don’t know the first thing about throwing a proper punch.”

Charles pouts, wincing as you take his hand in yours to examine it. “I was just trying to defend your honor, mon amour. That man was saying such crude things about you.”

You shake your head, amused by his protectiveness. “My hero,” you tease. “Next time just walk away. I don’t need you breaking your hand over some entitled idiot’s comments.”

Charles hangs his head. “I know, I know. I wasn’t thinking clearly. I just saw red when he kept insulting you.”

You smile softly, touched by how much he cares. You start cleaning the wounds on his knuckles with a disinfectant wipe.

“Ow!” Charles cries out dramatically. “That stings!”

“Don’t be such a baby,” you chide. “It’s just a little antiseptic. I have to clean it so it doesn’t get infected.”

Charles pouts some more but stays still as you finish cleaning the abrasions. You apply an antibiotic ointment carefully before beginning to wrap his hand with a bandage.

“I really messed up my hand, didn’t I?” Charles mumbles dejectedly.

You nod. “You definitely did some damage. Nothing serious, but you’ll be sore for a while.”

Once you’ve wrapped his hand securely, you bring it to your lips and place a gentle kiss on the bandage. “There. All better.”

Charles gives you a lopsided smile. “My own personal nurse. How did I get so lucky?”

You grab an ice pack from the freezer and hand it to him. “Here, put this on your hand to help with the swelling and pain.”

Charles sighs dramatically but does as instructed, holding the ice pack gingerly against his injured hand.

You glance at his wrapped hand, the knuckles already starting to bruise beneath the bandage. “Does it hurt terribly?”

Charles considers the question. “Honestly? Yes, it really does. Punching someone is not as easy as it looks in the movies.”

You laugh. “No kidding. That’s why you leave the punching to trained fighters, not Formula 1 drivers.”

“Ugh, this is so embarrassing,” Charles mutters. “What will the team say when they find out I injured myself in a fight? And I’ll never hear the end of it from Pierre.”

You pat his leg reassuringly. “Just say you hurt it working out. No one has to know about your misguided attempt at honorable combat,” you tease.

Charles chuckles ruefully. “Good idea. The last thing I need is for this to become paddock gossip.”

You both sit in comfortable silence for a few moments, Charles icing his hand while you snuggle contentedly against him.

"Thank you for patching me up and taking such good care of me,” Charles gently brushes the hair from your face with his uninjured hand. “Even when I do stupid things."

You grin. “It’s a tough job but someone’s gotta do it. Especially since you did almost break your hand for me.”

You settle back against Charles comfortably. He may be reckless and impulsive at times, but you know he always has the best intentions at heart. And you'll always be there to care for him if those good intentions backfire.

For better or worse, this protective man is the love of your life.

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insertdisc5 · 4 months

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✨ The In Stars and Time Spoiler Q&A ✨

it's time. MASSIVE IN STARS AND TIME SPOILERS UNDER THE CUT. IT'S GONNA BE SO LONG. LET'S GO

I hope you are aware of The Secret Final Boss because I'm also gonna spoil the crab out of that. If you haven't,

1. Did you know the events for interacting with your souvenirs are randomized for some of them, and also change depending on how far you are in the game.

2. Did you know there's a way to show souvenirs to a certain character.

3. Did you know you can go back to Dormont during the Epilogue.

Figure that out, and come back here! Or watch a let's play online. You can also do that.

I will also try to adopt a ~mysterious cool voice with no exclamation points~ for Effect. Come with me on this journey.

Now. Questions time!

✨ Will you ever make a sequel to ISAT, or make a game in the same universe?

Nah. This was always intended to be The Story. This is your turn to imagine things now.

✨ But so what happened to the Country? What was its name? What about the wishes? What about the colors? What did Siffrin say as an openphrase to open the door to the King's room? What about--

I will not answer those. It's your turn.

✨ BUT THE COUNTRY AND THE COLORS AND THE WISHES

Ok fine. Here are some facts that I alluded to in-game, that I am confirming now.

-The Country disappearing and the events that made colors go away are not related.

-The colors disappeared a loooong time ago, which is why knowing they even existed is a relatively new find.

-A wish made everyone forget the Country.

I will ALSO say that ISAT's map operates on Final Fantasy/General Fantasy rules (i.e. in-universe locations are based off of real ones when it comes to culture, but are not one to one parallels, especially for geography), so no, the Country isn't based on the UK oh my god please do not say that to me again or im deleting ISAT out of your computers and putting legos at the foot of your bed. It's based on another place. You can figure it out, I believe in you.

✨ But why won't you give more info on what happened :(

Can you imagine if I did answer. Wouldn't that be a bummer, whatever my answer was. Sometimes things need to stay a mystery. And also, I don't want to answer <3

✨ Does the world Loop came from still exist after they left? Or is this a get mystery'd situation?

There is only One Timeline and it's the timeline that goes from the prologue to ISAT. Every timeline that gets rewound does not exist anymore, and that includes the prologue's timeline.

✨ What's the deal with Siffrin's dream at the start?

It's Siffrin's dream, but that doesn't mean our Siffrin is the main star.

✨ Is [specific missable game moment] canon?

Every moment that you personally experience in the game is canon.

✨ Is there a reason Siffrin remembers their name but the King doesn't?

What makes you think Siffrin does?

✨ At the very very end of the game, if you look out the window behind the Head Housemaiden, Sif mentions seeing an island in the distance. Is that his country?

It is. It's always been there, for the whole game. You can see it in the distance, too.

✨ Who was the King, before?

He was just a guy!

✨ With the King left remembering in the end, does that in any way change the redaction effect for other people in the world going forward?

That's a fun idea. Maybe!

✨ One thing that never really clicked for me is: Is the sweet smell Time Craft or Wish Craft? Or is the sweet smell TIme Craft and specifically the burnt sugar smell is Wish Craft? Other way around? Does this question even matter since without Wish Craft you can't attain Time Craft in the first place? (To me, yes.)

Wish Craft smells sweet. Time Craft doesn't have a smell per se, but it does do something.

✨ Does Mirabelle retain her immunity to being frozen in time after the events of the game or does it go away after the Head Housemaiden is saved? Or does it persist for a while and eventually fade away?

I imagine the immunity slowly faded away. But no one's left to do Time Craft, so it's a moot point anyway.

✨ How was Odile able to stop Siffrin from looping back during the fight against Siffrin?

In the Discord channel I stated that it's because "she's just that cool", but really, she does have access to some skills that heighten the efficacity of Rock/Paper/Scissors attacks, so it's not too much of a stretch to imagine she could lower the efficacity of Time Craft as well. In this last loop, while listening to Loop and observing, she could figure out Siffrin was looping way earlier than she could in even the Sus Quest, so she made plans. She is Very Smart <3

✨ Will you ever share everyone's full names?

That's artbook content <3

✨ In the ending, what happened to Siffrin's hat?

Flew away. It's gone now.

✨ Looking back at the original comics, and seeing how comic!sif has both eyes at the start of their loops, but in ending sequences is shown with his eye patch...did you ever consider making that concept of sif losing their eye a part of the main loop in either of your games? and if so, was there any reason why you decided against it?

Early on, I did think about making that whole event an event that happens during the loops, but quickly let that go since 1. it would be a pain to write and code (two different sets of Siffrin portraits!) and 2. if it happened, the player might want to look for a way to NOT make that happen and so 3. it would be a pain to write and code

✨ How was Siffrin's homelife before?

Pretty good!

✨ How old were Nille and Bonnie when they ran away? How old was Sif when their home got zapped?

Both were teens.

✨ How old IS everyone?

Siffrin is mid-late 20s. Mirabelle and Isabeau are early-mid 20s, with Isabeau being slightly older. Bonnie is a preteen. Odile is Too Old For This. Petronille, Bonnie's sister, is late teens-early 20s. You can ignore whatever I said in the prologue's artbook, whoever wrote this was Wrong!!!!!!!!!!

✨ Regarding the book that talks about someone who crafted a copy of themself using wish craft: is that meant to imply someone we know is the author (and/or the copy), or is it not directly related to any of em? or is it a "who knows ;)" situation where we can just speculate and theorize either way?

Please check the book again during Act 5! This applies to most items/map events by the way, like the pendant. You can check those during Act 5 and 6 for some fun new dialogue!

✨ Why are Siffrin's clothes so warm looking?

The Country got cold at night.

✨ What's up with Siffrin's pins?

They're made out of a special material. And also, they make Siffrin look cool <3

✨ I want to know the story behind Loop’s different eye shades!

They're blind in one eye. Also, fun foreshadowing <3

✨ What determines whether someone is paper/rock/scissors craft? Is it assigned naturally at birth or something else (and how do you find out)? Does it make you more inclined to use that specific craft or is anyone generally free to use whatever craft they want?

Astrology rules, It Just Is A Thing. Being Rock Type means it is way easier for you to do Rock Craft, but that doesn't mean you can't learn other types of craft, although it's way harder. Doing Craft of your type is instinct, doing Craft of another type would take some time and resarch.

✨What crimes has Odile committed before. I need to know.

Odile just smiles.

✨ Why did the King specifically target the House of Dormont?

I had a reason in mind, but adding it to the game would've added a layer of Explanation that really didn't need to be there. It's just a nice House.

✨ Who was Odile's hatecrush...

Dunno. It's your turn.

✨ What is loop's body situation. like is the surface of their "skin" solid? they did poke siffrin that one time, and we know they aren't cold, but...

I have some idea. But it's your turn!

✨ Would Sif still have looped if they hadn't made the wish he made in the beginning? As in, would Vaugarde's combined wish have made him loop until managing to beat the King?

No. But without time powers, you can imagine what would've happened next.

✨ During the Loop Hangout, how did the rest of the team make it all the way to The King? What about during Act 5?

During the Loop Hangout: with difficulty. During Act 5: Loop was there to guide them.

✨ Is Loop: 1. Actually comfortable with both he and they, but only gave the one pronoun to emphasize the distance? 2. Only using they/them because a large life event led to a shift in identity/ how they'd like to be perceived? or 3. time lops stole he from they they :(

Mostly that first one. But all three of those reasons have a bit of truth to them.

✨ Who cooked crab in the House of Change???

This is a very funny question! I've never thought about it. It's your turn.

✨ What are the Orbs that open the gate? Did the King create the Gate or was it there before?

(did not think about the orbs or the gate beyond "plot that proves there was a journey before") Stop Asking Questions,,,, It's your turn,,,,,,

✨ Bonnie's dialogue is *extremely* accurate to how overexcited kids talk, which is really rare to see. Was that something that took a lot of effort to achieve, or did it come naturally to you?

Thank you <3 I'm just that good. Really, Bonnie is an adult with no filter, and less general knowledge. I'm very glad I managed to write Bonnie well, especially since. I haven't talked to a kid. Since I was one myself

✨ The Spoilery Concept Art. Blease

oh yeah. here have it all. this is what I gave Mimi to do the animated trailer!

✨ So. What's everyone's favorite shade.

FINALLY the question. Plus I can say shade names now. White = darkless, Black = lightless. Light and Dark is like light grey/ dark grey. Oh my god I'm checking my notes and I wrote a small event I never used about hair dye colors like "midnight dark", "tomato grey", "snow light" past me that's so fucking funny

Anyway, Siffrin loves darkless, Mirabelle is more of a light shade lover, Isabeau loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS FASHIONABLE OK), Odile likes darker shades, and Bonnie also loves that lightless (BECAUSE ITS AS DARK AS MY SOUL OK)

✨ Are there any bugs you found during developments that you've made into features?

Two! The first one was the ability to ask Loop to just silently hang out during Act 4. I messed up the code and the game softlocked there, with Siffrin and Loop sitting there silently. I thought it was very sweet. They deserve a little quiet time.

The second was in Act 5 - the House map had a lot of issues with the Act 5 map bringing you back to the normal House map. So one of the testers got brought to the normal House map and didn't notice, and interacted with the Mirror on Floor 3, and it gave them the normal interaction with everyone seeing the mirror and taking a picture, and when they went to look at the picture in their inventory, it gave them the actual Act 5 picture. A little bit after they realized the game bugged out, and told me about it, and begged me to keep that in because they were very unsettled by it. So here it is! Beforehand, it was just Siffrin silently taking a picture, so I'm glad I changed it.

✨ Did you ever have emotional difficulty writing the more sensitive parts of the script, like Siffrin’s intrusive/negative thoughts, for one reason or another? Moreover, did you worry the script may be darker than your initial vision for it anticipated?

Not really. The Mirabelle and Odile hangout scenes were the hardest scenes by far because I really wanted to get them right, but everything else was about the same amount of difficulty. And actually, I wanted to go a little bit darker for the script, but I was worried it was going to be too dark... When it comes to the dagger event, I had a whole tangent about Siffrin thinking about the best way to strike, so to speak, but I deleted it because it was getting A Little Too Detailed. T rating come back to me

✨ For the questions you WON'T answer, did you have your own answers while making the game? Or were they left blank?

Some of them I do, some of them I don't!

✨ I loved this game and I want to replay it but I don't want Siffrin to go through everything again!

Here's a little fun fact I decided: if you hit the credits, you helped a Siffrin escape. If you start a new game, you are creating a new Siffrin that you can emotionally tortu-IIIIIIII MEAN, a new Siffrin that you can help. Do not worry about your Siffrins they are fine

✨ A lot of those answers ended up being "It's your turn", huh.

Yea <3 The answers to some of those questions ARE there if you look. Some just aren't. But you can imagine whatever you want. It's your turn! I finished the game! I'm done working! It's your turn!!!

✨ I loved ISAT and it made me feel so many feelings!

Thank you so much. I'm sorry if you sent a message or ask and I didn't answer it. I read every single one and cherish it! Thank you for playing and thank you for writing me a message!!!!! When I get a little down I look at all of those and I feel better. Thank you. I'm sorry I can't answer them all.

✨ What will you work on next?

I have a project I'm currently in the preproduction stages of. I don't want to talk about it until I feel like I have some stuff to show. Plus I still have to make the ISAT artbook and some other stuff, so it won't be for a while. Nonetheless, I hope you will enjoy it!!!

#in stars and time #in stars and time spoilers

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dukeofankh · 3 months

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Trying to find progressive masculine community is so exhausting.

I've flipped through local men's groups, trying to find places to explore masculinity in a chill, progressive setting. First of all, they mostly seem to be modelled after AA, and like, my gender isn't a debilitating addiction, it's part of my identity actually, but also, the invite and description of the event have maybe a short paragraph tops actually waving vaguely in the direction of what the purpose of the group is, and then ten to twenty paragraphs breaking down the rules. One spent longer talking about the hand signals he would use to direct conversation than he did describing what the conversation would be about. Another had a full paragraph explaining that if the group thought you were evading what they thought your "real" problem was, they'd probably "call you to take accountability". Like...I don't even know who these people are yet and they're already letting me know that they view it as their right, no, their duty, to bully me into seeing things their way. Like, this is in the invite.

...and this warning is there instead of any sort of breakdown of like, I dunno. Whether you should be a feminist to show up. Whether it was a safe space for queer men. What the hell they wanted to talk about. Joining a men's space is on some level inherently submitting yourself to the authority of the leaders of that group, and you don't usually get a particularly clear breakdown of what the values and goals of those leaders are, because on some level the answer is always going to be "whatever I want"

And like, unfortunately you do need to filter men to build a men's space. You do need to remove or chastise men who act in ways that are toxic or disruptive or misogynistic. If you don't things turn into an MRA chapter pretty quick. But the sort of emergency powers that leadership takes on as a result of that...just kind of naturally end up reproducing masculine heirarchies.

MensLib, the only online community of progressive dudes talking about masculinity that I'm aware of, is...on Reddit. So there is a moderator system. In theory, a moderator is there to...moderate. This is a space where people are going to be talking, and mods are there to make sure things don't get too toxic or off topic.

The issue is that, on some level, that is technically a leadership position. In a sub trying to rehabilitate masculinity. So you've got a bunch of folks who view themselves as the leaders of this bastion of goodness standing against the depredations of the misogynistic internet, guiding the hapless smooth-brain neophytes towards The True Way.

In practice, this looks like 95 percent of the posts submitted for the subreddit being rejected. That isn't hyperbole. On average, the sub has about one new post per day. Almost all posts directly relating a personal experience are deleted immediately, in favour of articles written about masculinity in traditional media publications, which are considered more trustworthy than the sus lived experiences of the guys in the sub. The post I wrote here about the effect of purity culture on male sexual shame that's sitting at about 15K notes was based on a 10K word post I wrote for Reddit that was deleted because "I didn't cite any sources to prove that there is a link between purity culture and male sexual shame, or that my experience was anything more than anecdotal". I get comments deleted on a regular basis, and after paragraphs of protesting in modmail that my comments are both fully in line with feminism and not against the rules, the mods have just finally told me that the rules don't actually drive their actions as a team. They delete anything they feel leads the conversation in a direction they personally feel is unproductive. The rule cited at the time of deletion is really just the broad category of why they decided to hit the button that says nobody is allowed to read what I wrote.

The issue is kind of twofold. First of all, progressive men do not trust other men. A good dude knows that he, individually, is a good person, but literally any other man external to him is on thin ice. Do you really want to tie your wagon to that guy? Do you trust him, really? How do you tell the difference between a guy criticizing an article because it's factually incorrect and criticising it because a woman wrote it? Probably best to play it safe and delete it. Weight of the odds, he's probably a misogynist, right? This is the internet.

And thats the other half of it. If you view yourself as part of the leadership of The Good Guys, and you're getting hatemail from incels and facists all day, you get to the point where most of the time people challenge your authority it's because they're a terrible person. It is very, very easy to get to the point where someone challenging you is seen as evidence that they are a bad person. And now someone is challenging you (and therefore bad), in an environment where you are in charge, and you have a "make your opponent disappear" button.

I know. A Reddit mod was rude to me and now I'm butthurt. It's petty and stupid. I'm just feeling like there's nowhere else to really go, and I'm pretty despondent that literally every space I've seen that even looks like it might be for progressive men has the same deeply hierarchical structure and constant status-oriented squabbling as patriarchal spaces.

#me writing stuff #positive masculinity #menslib

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peterthepark · 2 years

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𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

tags: 18+ very graphic smut, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, dom!eddie, bratty!reader, squirting, anal play, angry jealous sex, garage sex, throatfucking, angst, aftercare, fluffy ending

summary: following the events of good boy, eddie finds himself conflicted about your relationship. when he catches a case of the jealousy bug, eddie just has to show you how much you actually mean to him.

note: thank you for the love on good boy! this can be read as a oneshot, but i do highly recommend reading its predecessor here!

Eddie is on cloud fucking nine. He can’t get enough of you. Not really. Five out of his seven days are spent in the fantasyland that is the suburban neighborhood of Hawkins, the remaining two saved for warm nights downtown together — wind in your hair as you’d lean out the window of the van that has become a near-second home, tired eyes shut in bliss, Eddie’s hand on your thigh or, occasionally, your smaller hand on his.

Kisses at the red-light. Kisses at a stop sign. Kisses when Eddie has to pull over to the side of the highway after you’d arch a brow and let the words “road head?” spill from your mischievous, grinning lips.

You insatiable girl, he’d growl out.

To which, you’d reply: My good boy.

There’s something different in your friendship — or, relationship? He doesn’t know what this is, but he knows that it’s real. And maybe that’s what confuses him the most, that this arrangement lives outside of those stark white-picket fences, more than just hot afternoons on the yard or late evenings inside the back of the van. Still just as perfect as the day he looked at you, really looked at you.

Mine?

He can’t call you that. But he can call you a plethora of things. Sweetheart. Laid out on the hood of your car or back arching against crumpled blankets, knees tucked to your hickey-tattered breasts as Eddie sinks his cock into your puffy cunt after three already tantalizing rounds, he’ll call you sweetheart then. Baby. Your mouth bobbing up and down his shaft, tears blurring your vision as Eddie shoves your stubborn head further, the light curls of his happy trail tickling your nose as you spend minutes of torturous pleasure gagging wetly around his base and balls till you can’t breathe, he’ll whimper out a desperate baby then.

Honey. Babe. Slut. Minx. Doll. Angel.

Eddie can call you many things, but he cannot call you his. Just as you cannot call him yours, as much as he dreams of you doing so. As much as he’d let you. You wouldn’t even need to ask.

But maybe there’s hope for him. After all, you couldn’t possibly just be fucking him just to fuck him, right?

Or perhaps, is he that stupid for thinking he actually stands a legitimate chance with the girl next door? In an arrangement that consisted more than fucking, than meeting at night, than sneaking out behind your parents’ back because he’s a bad rap?

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins who deserves dates at Enzo’s rather than quick stops at twenty-four hour diners, who deserves more than rusty vans and makeshift beds in the backseat, who deserves more than stick-and-poke tattoos and drugstore cologne. The girl next door who deserves more than a metalhead who works at a record store and lives in a goddamn trailer park.

Eddie is eternally fucked.

He is also even more eternally fucked because he knows there’s a large part of him that can’t even fathom the idea of you with another guy. Another boy who’d spent five out of his seven days with you in the suburbs. Another boy who’d act like he knew your body as well as Eddie did — and Eddie knows your body, knows how much pressure you need on your clit to cum, knows what kind of kisses makes you desperately press your tits against his chest, knows how to angle your leg just above your head so he can hit that favorite gushy spot, knows how to calm you down with snacks and beer after just one orgasm or three.

He can feel the last weeks of summer dwindling down.

Yet, the sun is still attuned to a blinding wash of golden, the birds loud, grass still greener on this side of Hawkins.

And you still take Eddie’s breath away everytime you walk down that front porch. Denim shorts, a studded belt that’s actually become yours more than his, a black Corroded Coffin tank and that damned pair of red Chucks… but yeah, you’re totally not his girlfriend.

So why is he seething at the visual of you bent over the hood of your car, sudsy sponge in hand as you scrub at your new Corvette while Steve fucking Harrington hovers around you like an irritating fly around forbidden fruit?

Except, is it forbidden if he knows exactly how it tastes?

Fuck. Eddie’s fist clenches around the steering wheel of his van, knuckles turning alabaster as you make — what he assumes — a variation of your witty one-liners that causes Steve to throw his head back in a booming laugh, so loud that it echoes through the bustling streets of young children riding their bikes and playing hopscotch.

You’re funny. But not that funny.

Eddie knows you’re allowed to have friends. He knows that. He also knows that Steve Harrington isn’t a threat. They’re buddies for Ozzy’s sake, but could you even blame him?

Harrington, who was the star of the highschool basketball team. Harrington, who lives two blocks down in a fancy two-story house with a fucking pool. Harrington, who’s popular with all the ladies and has charisma like a true gentleman. Harrington, who is the definition of Hawkins’ beloved boy next door.

And what a perfect pair you two could be if Eddie just removed himself from the equation.

“Boo!”

You slam your palm against the van’s windshield, chuckling heartily with crossed arms as Eddie jumps at the sudden disturbance. There’s a youthful crinkle by your eyes, lashes fluttering wildly against your cheeks as the dark-haired brunette scoffs at you and cranks the window down with a flexing jaw. “The hell, Y/N…”

You giggle at the slight twinge of irritation in Eddie’s tone of voice, wringing your fingers together against your stomach as you playfully narrow your eyes at him accusingly. “Were you spying on us, Munson?” A gasp falls from your rose-tinted lips. “And here I was thinking we finally got over that phase.”

Bashfully, he massages the nape of his neck. “Well, when you’re bending over the hood like that…”

“Oh, so it’s my fault?” You fire back immediately, bouncing on the balls of your feet as you regard him affectionately with a knowing smirk. “Am I under… arrest for just trying to clean my oh-so-dirty car?” Your face scrunches into a theatrical worry, “Damnit, will I be serving time, mister?”

Maybe you are that funny.

“You really wanna hear the damage?” Eddie winces, slowly reaching over and tucking a wisp of hair behind your ear, bright dopey irises following the movement of your pursed lips. “Tsk, it’s not looking good for you, ma’am. Five years on one count of bribery. Another five on one count of indecent exposure. Under the state of sex and drugs, I hereby must declare you guilty of all two counts, miss Y/N. Behind bars you go!”

You bite your tongue, the muscle poking from between your front teeth as you prop your forearm up on the window and rest your chin on it. He could absolutely kiss you right now. Kiss you in front of Harrington. Kiss you in front of the whole damn town and make his worries all go away. Kiss you until the entire universe knows you’re his.

“You won’t even let me make a statement?” You whisper airily, voice rasping through your permanent fixture of a giddy smile as you hold Eddie’s gaze, tiptoeing so that your level with his eyes.

“Another three for coercion, woman.”

“So it’s working, then?” You quirk your head at him curiously, lips twitching with excitement. “And since when were you… so in tune with the law, Eds?”

He brushes a relaxed knuckle over your cheek. “Never said I was, sweetheart. Just on the watch for dangerous girls like you, yeah? Total heartbreakers.”

That shuts you up.

Eddie’s heart blossoms at your falter, the slight part in your lips as a shaky sigh leaves you and fills the intimate air. It’s warranted — given that you’ve been nonstop fuck buddies for the past couple months already. There hasn’t been a day where he hasn't touched you in some heated, loving manner. Although, maybe you’re confusing loving with sensual. Who knows?

You step back, recovering from your flustered speechlessness before you’re making a beeline for your car. “You gonna come out and say hi, Metallica? Or are you just gonna keep watchin’ from there?”

And to Eddie’s dismay, Steve is still propped against the side of your Corvette, honey eyes squinting past the sunlight as he watches the metalhead finally take reluctant steps to your driveway.

“Hey, man! What’s up?” He wants to play friendly? Oh, he’ll play friendly then. Steve claps a gentle hand against Eddie’s shoulder, grinning widely. “You taking Dustin to the arcade today, or am I?”

“Nah, nah. I just…” Eddie clears his throat awkwardly, stuffing his clammy palms into his back pockets with one eye shut. “… was in the area. Wanted to, uh, you know… just drop off some records for Y/N. Huge sale at the store today.”

“Yeah? Shit, might stop by.”

“Oh, yeah. Totally.”

Totally not.

The conversation doesn’t get much better from there. In fact, Steve nearly ignores him for the rest of the time being as the yellow-shirt fiend follows you around your car like a dumb, lost puppy. Eyes drifting over the sweaty back of your neck as you reach over the hood, tongue darting out to lick his lips as you mindlessly wipe at the soap on your arms or your legs while chatting him up.

Eddie knows desire and he sees it clear as the goddamn day on Harrington’s stupid face. He knows his friend means no harm, that this — whatever this is — is far from a competition, just two guys with a similar admiration for a pretty, smart-mouthed girl.

Fuck off, man. Anyone but her.

Eventually, Steve leaves. Something about Robin still not having her license and needing a ride to this girl’s house. But his stay lingers for more than it should and god, is it painful to watch. A quick, cheeky hug, arms encircling your waist. A blushing cheek nuzzling the top of your head. A giggly whisper to your ear that makes you laugh hard into his neck. A soft exchange of ‘I’ll see you soon.’ and ‘Call me, Y/N.’

You pull the garage door down behind you.

And somehow, you’re still able to turn to Eddie and look at him as if that whole interaction wasn’t a total slap in the face. Hands on your hips as you approach him, sponge discarded on the roof of the car, dimples tugging at your cheeks as you lean beside him — almost nostalgic as the first day you spoke — and cross your ankles out in front of you with a questioning tilt of your head.

“You’re quiet.” Your elbow nudges him. “That’s a first.”

He scoffs exasperatedly under his breath, fiddling with the chain across his belt loops with a self-wallowing shrug. “Mm, well, there wasn’t much room for me to talk back there.”

You watch him, smile fading awkwardly as you pick at your nails. “Okaaay, um…”

“I had no idea that you and Steve were even close. Let alone… talked to each other. I mean, should’ve… should’ve expected it given you two live in this fairytale bubble together.” He laughs, dry and far from genuine.

There’s a heavy, uncomfortable tension that hangs in the air. Wafting between the two of you. Filling the empty gap between your anxious bodies. It irks you. His tone, the dull edge of it. The screech of nails against chalkboard.

You itch at the bridge of your nose, glancing away when Eddie turns to look at you. “We’re just friends. Always have been.”

Always have been. He should have known. Always have been — even when you were fucking, even when he took you to those diners and searched for you backstage at his tiny gigs, even when he taught you how to drive in his janky van, even when he made all those mixtapes for you.

All of that just to get an always have been, while Eddie himself remains a never will be.

“Fuck…” He chuckles venomously, wiping his hands on his thighs as he storms off towards the garage, while you follow hot behind his aggravated trail. “Okay, Y/N.”

Why did he ever get his hopes up?

“Is there — hey, what is your goddamn problem, Eddie?” You pull at his shoulder, scowling as he pries himself away from your touch like you’ve burned him. It baffles you, eyebrows falling in a blunt unfathomable line as Eddie sends you a look that can only mean: don’t. Don’t what? Don’t care? Don’t talk to me? Don’t speak? “What’s gotten into you? We were fine earlier, no?”

“I dunno, you tell me.”

“I-Is this about Harrington? Eddie, I don’t even know why you’re upset… listen, me and Steve are literally just friends, I told you before and I’m telling you again.” A dry laugh slips out of you, “There’s just — we share a lot in common, okay? He lives, like, just down the road, we were in sixth grade together, our parents get along, he — get this — he likes The Cure, and it’s just… we just work. Friends, end of story.”

“And us?”

“Us.” You repeat. Borderline incredulous. Perplexed. “I’m so confused right now. Hold on—“

“What does all… that make us?” Eddie turns quickly on his heels, closing the gap between the two of you as he gestures passionately with raised brows, lips tugging into a poisonous laugh. “Because it sounds like we’re just having fun and wasting each other’s time, Y/N.”

You gape at him, widening your eyes and tilting your chin up in defiance. “Isn’t that exactly what we’re fucking doing?” You snarl, canines on display as you poke at his sternum. He inhales deeply, watching the ferocity in your gaze heighten. “I don’t know if you’ve ever realized, but I am not your girlfriend, not some fantasy that—“

“Don’t.” He interrupted with a growling snap, your ego rising progressively with the determination to defend yourself.

“You can use to escape…”

“Really? Christ, really? What, like you haven’t been playing pretend with me either? When you have this — this perfect life with a perfect car and your perfect prince charming and your perfect neighborhood.” Eddie drawls mockingly, stretching the dramatics of his voice for emphasis. You hold each other’s stare, eyes coated with a film of indignation. “What’s the perfect girl next door wanna do with me anyways…”

Your face falls, breath hitching in your throat as you feel your chest tighten immensely. “You’re being mean, Eds.”

“Open your eyes, Y/N!” He retaliates with a menacing step forward, head tipping to watch the flicker of emotions across your daunting features. “You basically said it yourself. That Steve has everything that I-I don’t and if that’s what you want…”

“Is that what you really think of me?”

Oh.

He’s hurt you.

In an effort to spew out all of his own doubts, his feelings, his insecurities, Eddie wounded you. Had he not realized the weight of his words? The loaded gun he had been waving around all this time, letting himself snap only for you to get caught in the crossfire of his (valid) fears? He’s fucked up. Royally. And judging by the quiver in your bottom lip, the welling tears of frustration in your eyes, the bitter frown that’s taken over your once sweet-smile, he’s struck a bad nerve.

A harsh blizzard in the summertime. A rainy day while the sun shines. A thunderstorm amongst a blue sky. Beauty in the madness.

Even when you’re angry, you devastate him.

“Sweetheart…”

You keep him at arm’s length. Guarded. Distant. The walls he had been so eager to break at the beginning of summer had rebuilt themselves right in front of him without difficulty as you looked away, pained. “Don’t sweetheart me.”

“I got… listen, I got carried away back there and I just…”

“Fuck you, Eddie.”

All clarity has left his head. He’s too far gone into this, too deep into the grave he dug for himself, six feet under and somehow he still keeps digging and digging.

What’s a little more salt to an already open wound?

Eddie stalks over towards you with a chilling swiftness, invading your personal space and trapping you against the hood of your car. “Fuck me, huh? Yeah, cause that’s what you do best, Y/N.” He repeats sarcastically, the words dripping from his quirked lips and seeping into the warmth of your skin.

His voice holds a rasp to it, one that makes your body react in ways that are neither appropriate or helpful. Get a goddamn grip.

“Yeah? Sorry, am…” You challenge, feeling Eddie’s body drive into yours. Can’t get distracted. Can’t. It’s wrong, especially when your argument is — oh, he’s hard. His erection throbs against your thigh, stiff denim pressing against naked skin. “… am I the one who’s too pussy to put a label on whatever the hell this is?”

“I’m the pussy?” He pushes. You push back. “Says the spoiled little princess who has to sneak out at night because she’s scared mommy and daddy are gonna find out she’s been messing around with someone other than prince charming.” He bites out cruelly. “Who’s the pussy now?”

No backing out this time.

“And yet, you seem to have a lotta trouble staying away from a tight, wet cunt and a girl who’ll suck you off.”

“Oh, fuck off, Y/N.” The heavy aggression makes the hairs on your arms prickle, the inherent awareness that Eddie has you trapped, nowhere to escape this poisonous confrontation, makes you squeeze your thighs together.

He exhales raggedly, recovering from the large blow that you just threw at him.

“Did I stutter?”

He blinks at you. “You’re a real sweetheart, you know that?” You almost growl, a cruel laugh slipping past your lips in an effort to say — don’t even try me, but Eddie’s turning you around forcefully and bending you at the waist with a hand between your shoulder blades, the other hovering over your ass before you can even say anything. “A tight cunt, huh? Is that what you wanna be? Just a tight, wet cunt for me to use whenever I fucking want because I’m — what was it again? — too pussy to put a label on this?”

“Munson, don’t you fucking—“ You glare at him over your shoulder, gasping as he tugs your shorts down and warms his palm over your outer thigh, leisurely bringing it over a soft ass cheek before a loud, erotic slap fills the garage.

The surprised moan that leaves your body betrays you.

The fucking audacity of him to spank you? After all of that? After everything you just spewed at each other?

Eddie fucking laughs in your ear, studying the way you take your fleshy bottom lip between your teeth and a wave of embarrassment floods your face. “I bet you’re soaked right now. Bet you’re getting off on how upset I am with you, sweetheart. That’s kinda fucked up, don’t you think?” His knee nudges itself between your thighs, the cool edge of the car digging into your stomach while a familiar needy heat fills your cunt. “Yeah, I fucking know you.”

He knows you.

You stand your ground, holding your nose up high even as he sensually traces the lacy trim of your panties with haunting fingertips. “M’not your s-sweetheart. Or your princess, you know.”

He hums, nodding his head slowly as he runs his tongue along the inside of his cheek. “Oh, you’re not? M’not my little slut either then, huh?” He strikes you again, your bruised hips jerking forward against the hood with a subdued whimper, palms splaying out helplessly on the metal beneath you as you thrash in his grasp. Your ass stings with every strike to your cheeks, reddened and sore with the force of his wide open palm. “Insatiable fuckin’ girl, how much more can you take? How much more till you realize how much I… fuck…”

Till you realize what?

A gasp rips right out of your throat when he roughly pulls your panties down the swell of your ass. His hands come to spread your thighs to reveal the slick between your folds, a testament to your hidden arousal as another slap comes down to your puffy lips, leaving his palm wet and shiny.

You muffle your merciful whining with a groan, knowing full well that you shouldn’t be enjoying this, this stupid fucking foreplay, this stupid masculine show of dominance, being turned on shouldn’t have even crossed your mind in the first place.

Men.

You jeer at him over your shoulder, teeth baring like an animal when he grabs onto a fistful of your hair, arching your back up from the car as he mocks your own gasps against your ear. “Very mature of you.“

“I’m not the one who’s practically dripping on my thigh right now, babe.”

“Yeah? Well, your cock seems pretty happy to see it.”

Eddie shoves you back down onto the hood, releasing his suffocating hold on your hair with a disgruntled hum. You push your ass back against his erection, feeling him grip your waist harshly for leverage.

You must be purple all over, darkest at where he bruises you. Not that you’d complain. He’s done worse.

“Fuck, s-stop that, Y/N.”

“Taste of your own medicine.”

“Stop it.”

“You literally spanked me.” You bite out while he takes a painful hold of your wrists, twisting you to face him despite your struggling efforts. He’s seething, messy bangs cascading in front of his face as he looks down at you through long lashes, jaw clenched visibly. “You spanked me, Eddie.”

Yet god, does he look good.

But, no. You’re furious. You’re bubbling with absolute distaste for the boy in front of you. So angry, that you can’t help but scowl as your own hands fly out towards his heavy buckle, chains jingling against his thigh as your dexterous fingers undo his belt.

His nose nudges desperately against yours, panting against your parted wet lips as you roughly press your forehead to his with a pained expression. “How is it you can be a total asshole but I still…” You speak through gritted teeth, cut off by a guttural groan from Eddie when you reach into his boxers and take his velvety, stiffening cock into your hand. “… still want to fuck the shit out of you?”

“Y-Yeah?” He cups your cheek, firmly dragging his thumb down your bottom lip and watching it bounce back into its natural place. “Fuck, too stubborn to even say you want me.” He dips his finger between your lips, studying the way your cheeks hollow out instantly to suck the digit, your warm tongue coating it in thick, stringy saliva with a muffled moan.

There, you see a piece of the kind metalhead you met that one summer day.

You nip at his thumb, smiling when he hisses at the sensation and pulls away. “I’m already getting on my goddamn knees, Munson. Just shut the fuck up and let me do what I want.”

“Always doing what she wants… typical.”

“This is the part where you say...” You sink to the concrete, looking up at him with narrowed eyes as you tug his pants all the way down. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I’m sorry for being a fuckin’ dick who doesn’t know the first thing about communication.” You shove his boxers down to his ankles, nipping at his thighs before you’re running your wet lips across the side of his shaft with a whiny, teasing drawl. “I’m so sorry for getting absolutely mad at you for no goddamn reason. I’m sorry for calling you a spoiled brat. I’m sorry for putting you up on a stupid fucking pedestal. I’m sorry for assuming that you and Steve can’t be more than—“

“Okay, you’re done here, sweetheart.” Eddie grips the base of your head, ruthlessly pulling your mouth down onto his cock with a throaty grunt. You gag from the sudden sensation, eyes welling up immediately as he wriggles himself snug between your lips. “C-Christ, you’re perfect like this. Mmm, fuck. Fuckkkk. Gonna fuck your face till you cry, how does — shit, how does that sound?”

And you can’t even reply. Can’t even refuse his offer (not that you wanted to anyways). Can’t even have the last word because your mouth is full of his throbbing cock, your nose buried in the heady scent of his happy trail, his heavy balls squished against your chin as you try to even out your breathing.

But, fuck, he’s big. And you’re panicking. You’d know he’d never hurt you, not even if he’s angry. It’s just… he’s so thick. And well, a mouth can only take so much, right?

Your hand darts out to catch yourself against your car as Eddie thrusts himself forward, the sloppy tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat as he holds your face in place — one hand cupping the underside of your chin and the other just above your forehead. “Shit, Y/N… yeah, can’t fuckin’ yap your ass off now, can you? Pretty girl with a big, talkative mouth… can’t even take my cock.”

Now, that flips a switch in you.

You grip the backs of his thighs, drawing him closer to you until a pathetic hmpf! leaves your mouth. Eddie’s just as surprised, fingers tangling themselves harshly in your hair as you bob your throat up and down. There’s spit bubbling from the corners of your lips, pre-cum dribbling down your jaw as Eddie grips onto the edge of the hood for dear life, his chin dropping to his chest in awe. You make the effort to glance up at him, nearly smiling at the visual of his furrowed eyebrows, the choked moans that echo through the garage, the pink flush that crawls up his straining neck.

There’s a good boy.

God, you’re practically dripping onto the floor.

“F-Fuck, you know just how I-I fucking like it, don’t you? Always a messy girl. Always so goddamn insatiable, jus’ takes and takes… even with my cock down your throat, I bet you want more. Fuck, never s-satisfied, are you?”

You pull off of his cock, coughing wetly for air as you jerk him slowly in your hand, tears blurring your dizzy vision.

“And yet you still don’t believe that I don’t want anyone else’s cock e-except yours, Eds?”

An unspoken translation of saying: I want you. Just you.

His gaze softens, jaw still clenched, but his eyes change. They sparkle with relief, rather than anger — his mouth purses into a resigned, close-lipped smile and before you know it, he’s tugging you back onto your feet, gingerly running his palm across your cheek, inhaling the flowery scent of your hair before you’re drowning in a heated kiss that can only mean ‘nothing matters except how bad I need you right now.’

His fingers card through your scalp, your ear resting between his forefinger and middle as you grind against each other, pumping him in your grasp as he switches between tongue and teeth and his lips and fuck—

“You’re so pretty. S-So beautiful, it makes me so fuckin’ angry.” Eddie rasps, biting down the column of your throat as he holds your face tenderly. “I don’t want anyone else but you. Just y-you. Even if you piss me the hell off.”

You chuckle in amusement, your laugh quickly transitioning into a high-pitched yelp as he suddenly picks you up and places you on the cold hood of the car, spreading your thighs apart with a warning slap to either one.

“Aw, you love me, Munson. It’s hot when you go all alpha.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.”

Forcibly, he pulls your hips to the edge, dribbling a thick white glob of spit onto your messy cunt before he spreads you open with the calloused pads of his fingers. You lean back on your forearms, jaw unhinging as Eddie cooes at the embarrassing string of arousal leaking from your needy pussy all the way to your puckering asshole.

His touch is hot and heavy, marking your trembling frame with another purpling bruise as he hooks an arm under your knee and presses a kiss to your leg. “You’re damn gorgeous like this.”

“Touch it already.”

He tsks. “Insatiable.”

“I’m getting bored.”

“This isn’t gonna fucking work.” Eddie snarls under his breath, and you nearly see the frustration beading off of him as he drags you off of the hood, palms and fingers flying all over your body as he forces you onto your feet and bends you over again. You jerk forward as he buries his face between your ass cheeks, his nose nudging at your cunt while he laps at your swollen clit. His fingers keep you spread open, kneading the fat of your thighs before he’s fucking his tongue into you.

“Ah — you fucking — ah — taste delicious,” He chuckles, “You’re literally such a messy girl. Pussy already leaking with my spit.”

Your mouth falls open, nails scraping against the metal before Eddie slurps at the arousal between your folds. “F-Fuck, Eds… I’m… fuck, your mouth feels so — so good, need m-more…”

“Need more, huh?”

“Mmm.”

“Didn’t know my mouth was the key to getting you to finally shut the fuck up.” He cooes, his dominant tone exuding false pity as you rock back against his face.

“Eddie— fuckkkk…“ Your entire body lurches when his mouth drops to the tight fluttering ring of muscles above your cunt, two fingers scissoring your cunt as he dips his tongue into your ass. “Okay, fuck… that’s — that’s h-hot. E-Eddie, god… I’m… you’re…” You shudder violently, burying your face into your forearms with a pathetic laugh of disbelief, “… that’s gonna make me cum…”

“You see, that’s the fucking goal, dumbass.”

“Call me d-dumbass one more—“

“Dumbass.” You cry out as his hand comes down on the back of your thigh, leaving the skin raw and red. “Yeah, that fucking turns you on. Cum on it. Fuckin’ cum, sweet girl. You like this shit.”

Yeah.

You like it too much. But Eddie doesn’t need to hear that when you’re practicing spasming on his fingers, a warm gush trickling down the heel of his palm as your cunt swallows him all the way to his knuckles. You feel him lean over you, his chest molding to your back as you come undone for him and let out a choked sob of pleasure. He pulls you up by your throat, burying his face in the crook of your neck as you reach up to fist your hands through his hair and draw him nearer.

“Fuck — Eddie — it’s, fuck… I’m… I’m cumming, s’too g-good, f-fuck...”

He sighs blissfully, “Yeah, baby. That’s it. Ride it out. You got this.” Your moans fill the air in broken, choppy gasps and breaths, Eddie’s free hand massaging your clit as you twitch against him. “So hot when you cum, don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to it.”

Your lashes flutter wildly as he reaches up to brush your bangs back away from your forehead, tucking them behind either ear as he peers down at you.

The gesture is so tender, you and Eddie almost forget why you’re mad at each other.

He’s the first to draw in a breath, shaky and nervous.

“Hey, you with me?”

“Mm.”

A beat, then a waft of uncertainty fills the air.

“I’m… I’m sorry for, uh, spanking you.” Oh. Not what you were expecting… surprised, you start to snicker in amusement, hiding your face in his neck as he chuckles shyly. “I’m being serious, Y/N. Stop — stop laughing, it’s making me laugh.”

“Why are you apologizing?”

“Well, I mean… I didn’t, you know, ask you.” Eddie strokes his palm up and down your torso, hand dipping beneath your tank top. “I always ask you, like, if that kinda shit is okay. Consent and stuff.”

He sounds like a child, unsure and guilty. Struggling to find purposeful words, to make sure he’s doing this right.

“Consent and stuff…” You repeat in a smiling whisper, running your hand gently down the side of his face. You turn to face him, slinging your arms across the back of his neck. “Eddie, I liked it. Thought it was obvious.”

“It was obvious. I felt it,” He grins in return. “I just… I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m… making you do shit that you don’t want to. Like ever.”

“Never that, Eds. I feel…” I trust you. I adore you. I’m better with you. I like you. Maybe I love you. It’s only been a couple months and you’ve ruined everyone else for me. “I feel safe with you, always.” You drag your knuckles across his sharp jaw, watching the way his throat bobs when he swallows. “Are we gonna talk about the Steve thing?”

“Definitely not off the hook with that one.”

“You know that totally hurt, right? What… what happened back there?” Eddie sighs, clasping his hand on top of yours, eyelids shutting as he leans into your touch.

“Overreacted.” You hum in response, giving him a soft nod. “I just… got too into my head about all of it. Like — like seeing you with him felt like a wake-up call. As if I was… god, I don’t know. Back in school all over again, just realizing how I didn’t fit in there, and then with you since you have Harrington who’s all… preppy polos and hairspray, everyone’s fucking favorite, the goddamn equivalent to whatever the hell you are, Y/N.”

You smile sadly, realizing just how deep the extent of his frustrations are coming from. “And what am I, Eds?”

“Perfect.” Eddie whispers, his words hot against your lip like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You’re perfect. You… I’ve never been this obsessed over a girl before. God, it’s pathetic.” His hands find the back of your neck, and he guides your mouth onto his. “You’re the worst.”

He’s addicted to the heat of your tongue, the way your body so eagerly caves into his as he backs you up against the hood once more.

“Crazy you t-think I’d ever flirt with Harrington.” His cock hardens against the inside of your sticky thigh, the tip of him catching on the swell of your clit as he topples over you and hungrily runs his teeth along your neck. “When clearly, I have my eyes set on a whole different guy.”

“Yeah?” Eddie’s hands squeeze your ass harshly, gripping you impossibly closer. “What about him?”

“S’kinda the jealous type…” You gasp as he guides your fingers around his cock, pumping him once, twice, three times before he’s lining himself up with your soaked entrance. “Fuck — but it’s hot when he is… makes me wanna get him all riled up…”

“Sounds awfully familiar, sweetheart.”

“Great smile, a pretty laugh… ugh, fuck…” Your forehead falls against Eddie’s shoulder as eases himself between your folds, filling you up with his shaft until the bush of dark curls at the very base of him brushes against your clit. “A-Amazing tattoos… even better hair…”

“Better than Harrington?”

You snort, nails digging into his bicep. “Nine-hundred and ninety-nine percent better.”

A moan falls from his lips when you shift against him, cunt clenching around his prick helplessly as he stills inside and lifts your head off of him. “Couldn’t have j-just made it a thousand, hm?”

“S’cause you stink, Eds.” He carefully draws his hips back, only to thrust inside you hard and slow as lighthearted laughter rings through the air. “F-Fuck, there had to be… had to be something wrong with you, or else you’d be too…” You hiss as his thumb finds your clit, circling over the sensitive bundle of nerves before he’s hooking his other hand under your knee. “Oh, my god… don’t stop.”

“Words.” He whispers against your lips, eyebrows raising for emphasis. “C’mon, babe. Talk to me.”

A sob nearly rasps out of you when you feel his cock deep in your belly, every stroke deeper and wetter than the last. “Or else you’d be too g-good to be true. Shit, just like that. Fuck, I only want you. Fuck. Eddie—“

You cry against the incursion of his tongue — a rough, open-mouthed kiss. Riddled with frustration, with pleasure, with anger, without caution or grace, with words neither of you can really say.

“Taking m-me so well, Y/N. That’s it. You like this?” He gasps between each slam of his hips, locking you in place with a bruising hold. “You like me fucking you on this car, yeah? You insatiable girl.”

Fuck, it’s good. It’s erotic, the glistening slick of your cum sticking to the curled hair around his shaft, the shine of your thighs as you squirt around him, his teeth digging into your shoulder as his cock wedges your stubborn cunt open and spread, gaping for him as you angle your ass up to meet each sloppy, harsh stroke he gives you.

Filthy slut, stretched you open, didn’t I?

Pretty girl, you’re doing so good for me.

Your mind gets lost in his endless swirl of degradation and praise, deliciously reeling in his back and forth of calling you a whore and then calling you an angel not even a minute later as he drives into your cunt.

“Fuck. Fuck, Eds.”

“If it’s too much, I can — god, we can stop, Y/N.” He drops his head, shoulders shaking as he tries to go easy. “Jus’ say the word, sweetheart, and I’ll stop. Fuck, whatever you want.”

“No. Keep going. Please. Please. Please.” You don’t fucking care. The stretch, the sting of him, it feels almost like the first every time you have sex. “Does it look like I want you to stop?

Eddie snarls and fucks you harder. The thick head of his cock near-bruising your cervix as he punches up into you, your pleas and the sounds of skin slapping against skin ringing through your skull.

The lewd squelch of his shaft driving into your cunt turns him hysterical, and before you know it, he’s hiking you up further onto the hood of the car, grasping the hinges of your knees and forcing them against your bouncing tits.

He’s turned you into nothing but a looping mixtape of fuck-fuck-harder-please-Eddie-Eddie. And fuck, does it overfill the cup of pleasure deep in his belly.

“Baby, I’m…” Your hand reaches for his, desperate and frantic as you interlock fingers and Eddie presses reassuring kisses to each of your knuckles. “I’m gonna…”

“What’s up, hm?” He whispers gently, the sincere concern in his voice tugging at your heartstrings while your ribs rattle with another pleasurable sob. “G-Gonna cum on my cock, sweetheart? Your pussy must need it so bad, yeah? Yeah, I know. Fuck, m’gonna get you there. I’m gonna do so good for you.”

He rears back, before spearing fully into you. Sweat rolls down the side of your forehead, your back arching into Eddie’s sticky chest, his thumb slipping between your wet lips while he works your sore cunt open.

You can barely speak, torn between a fluttering consciousness and the rising warmth between your thighs that your mouth seems to move faster than your brain. “M-My good boy.”

Eddie lets out a huff.

Then, smiles as bright as the innocent, summer sun.

“Fuck yeah, mama. Cum for me. Cum on that shit.”

Your orgasm hits you before you even realize it’s coming.

Such a suffocating build-up, that you almost forget that your pleasure is a reward, your belly cramping and spasming as the walls of your cunt squeeze around Eddie’s cock.

You open your eyes as the high flows through you, and when Eddie meets your fucked-out hazy gaze, a word dangles from the tip of his tongue, burning through his throat and stabbing at his chest as he grits his teeth and restrains every part of him that wants to say: mine.

The raw claim of it. The power of such a minuscule word that implies something deeper than fucking behind closed doors and spending midnights in parking lots. Bars and motels turn into cafés and a shared apartment. Cuddling in the backs of janky old vans turns into ‘good mornings’ and ‘how’d you sleep?’ in a queen-sized bed.

Eddie realizes it now, how he’s never had something to call his. To call his own.

But then you laid out on that lawn one day and…

He’s scared, though. Horrified. You’re free-spirited, you’re open, you’re the rose and the thorns all at once, bright and optimistic and kind. And yet, he can’t risk scaring you away with something so… possessive and certain.

Instead, Eddie tightens his arms around you and thrusts deeper, slotting his mouth over your lips before he offers you a promise. The only promise that’ll give him some sort of peace, to keep him at bay in case you can’t meet him halfway.

“I’m yours.”

The words are muffled against your skin, but either way, you inhale sharply at it. Your hands fumble around Eddie’s neck, cupping him at the nape before you’re pulling him in closer and easing your mouth onto his with furrowed brows and watery eyes.

“And I’m yours.” He chokes on his moans as he strokes into you, your tongue rolling against his as you kiss him hungrily, the warm press of it taking his breath away. “I’ve always been yours.”

Eddie whimpers at that, cumming with his head buried into your shoulder. “M-Mine.”

His last desperate thrusts have you reeling, gasps and sobs being pricked out of you as Eddie fills you with his warmth. His cum slowly seeps out from your cunt when he pulls out almost too quickly for your personal liking, body falling against yours as he places a palm on the hood of the car to steady himself.

You’re sore.

Eddie takes a few moments to catch his breath, panting against your chest as you entangle your fingers at the back of his head. “I meant it…”

“What?” He exhales out, a tinge of confusion clear in his tone.

“Meant that I… I only want you. S’true.” You smile and hold him gently by the chin, picking his head up and off your shoulder. “Jus’ you, Eds.”

“Okay.”

Eddie chuckles heartily, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before he presses a kiss to your arm. “Hi, by the way.”

“Mmm. Hi, you. You feel okay?”

“Fuck, I’ve never been better honestly. Came so hard and you’re — oh, look how stretched out you are.” He hums, running a thumb up your drenched slit. A shy laugh bubbles out of him, “Should be the one asking you if you’re okay, sweetheart.”

“I’m on cloud nine. I dunno about you.”

“Baby, I’m past the damn clouds. I’m all the way up in the sky with the big man himself.” Eddie dips his digits between your folds, mewling as you jerk your hips against him. He collects the mixture of your juices on the tips of his fingers, raising it up to his lips before he’s sucking on it like his last meal. “Delicious.”

“Perv.” You duck your head, shying away from his kisses before he catches your mouth, sighing against your lips. “Do it again.”

He pauses, brown eyes glistening with adoration.

“Insatiable, I tell you.”

He helps you to your feet, hand outstretched in front of him like a proper gentleman as you wobble onto your legs, pulling your panties and shorts over your ass as Eddie mirrors your movements. He kisses you once more as soon as he’s buttoned his jeans, securing his heavy belt buckle while your teeth knock against each other.

“Eddie…”

“Yeah?”

“My carrrr.” You whine, wringing your arms around his neck as you glance back at the Corvette. “It’s all filthy again. Thanks to you, you know.”

He gasps, placing a hand over his heart while you sneak out from under him and snatch the sponge atop of the car. “Well, call me a dick then.”

“Dick.”

And before he can even see it coming, you’re throwing it at him, the sponge landing against his bicep with a loud squelch! that makes you burst into laughter. “Oh! Oh, we’re playing dirty? Okay, fuck you too, then.”

You squeal as he runs at you, soap drenching your clothes as he grabs you by the waist and squeezes the sponge over your front.

“Eddie!”

Again, Eddie Munson is eternally fucked.

But that’s okay, because not only can he call you a plethora of pretty names, he can also call you the only one that truly matters: mine.

His.

The perfect poster girl of Hawkins who — okay, sure — one hundred percent deserves dates at Enzo’s rather than quick stops at twenty-four hour diners, who deserves more than rusty vans and makeshift beds in the backseat, who deserves more than stick-and-poke tattoos and drugstore cologne. The girl next door who deserves more than a metalhead who works at a record store and lives in a goddamn trailer park.

Yet, all at once, the perfect poster girl of Hawkins who somehow likes twenty-four hour diners and the greasy food that comes with it. Who likes throwing fries at him from across the table because he still abhors The Cure and still thinks his music taste is superior.

The girl who prefers his rusty van over a regular car because the smell is comforting, and that it reminds you of a home away from home. Reminds you of your nights downtown and the really early mornings he’d spend reading Lord of the Rings to you in the back, surrounded by blankets and clothes.

The girl who demands that your first tattoo not be done by a professional, but someone with stick-and-pokes and bat tattoos on his arm. Someone who smells like cedar and wood, gasoline and a fresh pack of cigarettes. Steady hand or not, as long as it’s done by him.

The girl next door who loves the metalhead that works at the record store and lives in a cozy trailer park.

So yeah, maybe Eddie is eternally fucked.

But at least you’re by his side through it all.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fluff #stranger things smut #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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virtualreader · 9 months

Text

broken hearts and healing souls – part 2

deanwinchesterxfem!reader

summary: a few days after the unexpected events that took place on the night of your biggest argument, Dean has a nightmare. And both of you are forced to face the feelings you had pushed aside.

word count: 2,1k.

warnings: nightmares, mentions of anger, kiss, regretful Dean.

part 1

a/n: you've been asking quite a lot for a second part for this fic, so here it is. I'm not entirely satisfied with the ending, but I still hope you guys enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. also, as the part 1 was based on a song, i opted to base part 2 in another one — I’ll be good - James Young.

Another hunt, another city, and yet another sleazy motel room. But you and Dean still hadn't exchanged more than the essentially necessary words.

Ever since that night when you kissed, Dean had been ignoring you with perfectly applied silent treatment, as if you had turned into a ghost. Not that it was totally bad, a part of you preferred not facing the real issue.

Bringing the matter up would be like tearing off a scar, like reopening a wound that had never even closed. Blood would ooze from the raw, exposed skin, once again, and the pain would return, and it would hurt the same way it did when hearing those words escape his mouth: ‘this was a mistake’.

However, another part of you, though small yet present, longed for things to return to normal. To joke around with Dean again, like the time when he had made a hilarious impersonation of the local parish priest, and you had laughed until your stomach hurt. To get ingenuously mad with him for teasing you just because you were younger than he was. Damn, if you could go back in time you would have simply avoided that first argument altogether.

You stared at the ceiling, moisture stains here and there and the paint that once covered it, flaking off, revealing the rough surface underneath. Perhaps it had once been a grand and luxurious space, filled with beautiful furnishings and ornate decorations. But now, it was a shadow of its former self, a tired and worn-out shell of a room.

You should have known better. Hell, you did know better. You just didn't want to acknowledge the fact that he had no romantic feelings towards you and never could. You had become a part of the Winchesters' family a long time ago and grew up with them. Chances were Dean considered you his little sister. How could he be romantically involved with you?

I thought I saw the devil this morning Looking in the mirror, drop of rum on my tongue With the warning to help me see myself clearer

The quietness of the room was only interrupted by the occasional sound of a distant car passing by outside and the desultory barking of a dog nearby. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

“What’s gotten into you guys?” had asked Sam the morning after the event, after noticing Dean’s unusual and dismissive behavior.

“None of your business, Sammy.” Dean had replied, not meeting your eyes.

You had tried to talk to Dean several times, but he would always find an excuse to leave the room or change the subject. It was like he was avoiding you, and it hurt more than you cared to admit.

Dean had always been like an older brother to you. You shared so many memories together, from hunting supernatural creatures to simply hanging out and joking around. But maybe, deep down, you wished for something more than just a sibling bond.

Trying to ignore the feeling of emptiness in your chest was hard if not impossible. It was like a piece of you was missing, and you couldn't find a way to fill the void. Knowing this would be the end result, you would never have kissed him.

You may have felt fortunate to find a motel with two available rooms, but your luck ran out when Sam claimed the one with a single bed for himself. So you were forced to share a room with Dean.

I never meant to start a fire I never meant to make you bleed I'll be a better man today

You let out a sigh, feeling frustrated and lonely. You didn't want things to be like this between you and Dean, but you didn't know how to fix it. You knew that you needed to talk to him, to tell him how you felt and try to work things out. But you were scared of what might happen if you did.

You heard a muffled sound coming from the other side of the room. You turned your head to see Dean tossing and turning in his sleep, his face contorted in pain. It was obvious that he was having a nightmare.

With a hand, you tossed the bedsheets along with the flowery comforter away, uncovering your body. You rolled your legs off of the bed and slowly yet surely moved to a sitting position. You tilted your head slightly and tried to take a glimpse of what was going on in the adjoining bed, but failed pathetically due to the scarce lightning.

Feeling concerned, you reached out blindly for the light switch. After a moment of fumbling, you found it and turned it on. The wall-mounted lamp flickered to life, casting a warm, dim light throughout the room. Dean's grimacing expression was now clearly visible, and you hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do next.

“No! No, no!” he growled low, his teeth gritted. “No! Y/n!”

That you were not foreseeing.

You were taken aback by his outburst, not expecting it at all. What could he be dreaming about that would elicit such a strong reaction?

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times that I never could

Dean was sweating profusely. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and he was muttering incoherently. Waking him up seemed like an idea. Sure, you were mulish, but you were not some heartless monster.

You reached out and gently shook Dean's shoulder, trying to wake him up from his nightmare.

"Dean," you whispered, hoping that your voice would be enough to pull him out of his dreams. “Dean, wake up.”

He did not respond, and just as you were about to try again, he hastily sat up, his eyes wide, and his breathing heavy.

"Y/n?" he asked, his voice shaking. "Is that you?"

"Yeah, it's me," you replied, relieved to see him awake and alert. "Are you okay? You were having a nightmare."

Dean ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room as if he was trying to orient himself.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said finally, his voice still shaking a little. "It was just a bad dream."

Silence took over the place. You stared at Dean, and Dean stared at you, both waiting for the other to speak first. The tension was thick enough to be cut with a knife, and the eerie environment did nothing but add to it.

"Wanna talk about it?" you asked, sensing that there was more to his nightmare than he was letting on.

Dean hesitated for a moment, his eyes flickering over to you before returning to the floor. You could sense that he was struggling to find the right words to say, and as the silence stretched on, you began to feel a growing sense of unease.

My past has tasted bitter for years now So I wield an iron fist Grace is just weakness Or so I've been told I've been cold, I've been merciless

"It was about you," he said, his voice barely above a whisper, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

The confession caught you off guard. You were surprised to hear such a heartfelt admission from him.

“Me?” You could feel your pulse quickening as you waited for him to continue.

"Yeah. I dreamed that the demon got to you," Dean continued, his voice still trembling. "That I couldn't protect you. And then...then you were gone."

You felt a lump form in your throat at Dean's words, and you instinctively reached out to place a hand on his arm. Yet, you kept a reasonable distance between the two of you, unsure of how this could alter your current situation. Unsure of whether it could bridge the seemingly unfathomable gap that separated your wounded souls.

"Dean, I'm right here," you said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

But the blood on my hands scares me to death Maybe I'm waking up today

The mattress dipped while you sat facing Dean.

"I know that," Dean replied, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since he woke up. "But...I don't know. It's like I can't shake this feeling that something's going to happen to you."

You could see the fear and uncertainty etched into Dean's features, and you knew that he was struggling with his emotions. It was hard for him to admit that he was scared, especially when it came to you.

But you also knew that you couldn't keep ignoring the elephant in the room. You needed to talk to Dean about what had happened between you, or you would never be able to move forward.

"Dean," you said, your voice steady but firm.

He looked away, his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists.

"I messed up,” he uttered, deciding to address the matter before you had a chance to gather your thoughts. “I didn’t want us to end up like this.”

"I know," you said softly, your heart aching at the sound of his voice. "But we can't keep avoiding each other like this. We need to talk.”

Dean let out a sigh and his shoulders slumped, his entire demeanor reflecting the weight of the situation. Dean had always been good at avoiding his feelings, pushing them aside in favor of the mission. But this time, he couldn't do that. You both knew that it was time to stop tip-toeing around the issue and get to the heart of the matter.

"I was scared," he admitted. "Scared of losing you. Hell, I still am. That’s why I didn’t want you to go on hunts anymore."

Dean's voice was low and steady, but there was an underlying intensity to it that betrayed the depth of his emotions. He was laying it all on the line, baring his soul in a way that he had never done before.

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should (oh-oh-oh) I'll be good, I'll be good (I'll be good, I'll be good)

Afraid he would retract on opening up to you, you did not dare say anything, instead you fixated your gaze on his glossy, green eyes, encouraging him to continue. He took your hand in his, and his eyes softened.

“I don't think about you as a kid. It's just that…when you love something, you protect it.”

Dean's words hung in the air, the weight of them almost palpable. He looked at you, waiting for a response, his heart pounding in his chest.

The walls around Dean's heart, which had once been so solid and towering, had finally come crumbling down, leaving him vulnerable and exposed. It was clear that there was no going back from this point, as Dean had decided to tear down his emotional barriers and reveal his true self. The honesty and openness that he was displaying left you feeling speechless, as if you were witnessing something truly special and rare.

“Please, y/n. Say something,” he said with his voice at the verge of breaking, when you did not say anything.

“You love me?”

“I can’t pretend anymore. You are everything, everything.” Dean finally confessed, his grip on your hand tightening.

For all of the light that I shut out For all of the innocent things that I doubt For all of the bruises I've caused in the tears For all of the things that I've done All these years, no, yeah For all the sparks that I stomped out For all of the perfect things that I doubt

You felt a warmth spread through your chest at his words, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. But this time, they weren't tears of sadness; they were tears of joy. You had wanted to hear those words for so long – even if it was not a straightfoward 'I love you' –, but you had never dared to hope that they would be true.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," Dean uttered. "The idea of losing you, of ruining what we had, terrified me. You were always like a sister to us, and when I first felt something more for you, I didn't want to admit it. But I can't keep pretending that I don't feel this way.”

I'll be good, I'll be good And I'll love the world, like I should Yeah, I'll be good, I'll be good For all of the times I never could

“Dean, I-I…” you tried to say, yet, the words got caught in your throat, the upheaval of the moment hindering your ability to vocalise something coherent.

Delicately, he reached out and carefully tucked a strand of your hair that had come loose behind your ear. His fingers lightly brushed against your skin as he cupped your cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing circles on your skin.

Dean looked at you for a long moment, his eyes softening as he took in your presence. You could sense the shift in his demeanor as the distress that had been etched in his features not five minutes before, had now completely vanished. His eyes seemed to sparkle with a new sense of calmness and peace.

Warmth blossomed in your chest, sparks igniting as Dean leaned in close, lips brushing together, tentatively, for the first time that night, though not the last.

His fingers danced through your hair, caressing the back of your head with the sweetest touch. His lips parted slightly, allowing your tongue to slide inside his mouth, and a hint of cinnamon and vodka mingled together, creating a unique and intoxicating combination that lingered on your taste buds.

Oh, oh-oh Oh, oh Oh, oh-oh For all of the times I never could

“I love you too, Dean.” you whispered in his ear, momentarily pulling away.

And, as you held each other, melting into the kiss, you both knew there was no going back to the way things were before.

@losa12308 – as you requested, I'm tagging you in part 2 (I'm actually thinking of making a taglist)

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester imagine #dean winchest x reader fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester angst #sam and dean #dean winchester x female!reader #supernaturalxreader #dean x y/n #dean x reader #dean x you #supernatural fanfiction #hbo supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural #supernatural x reader #spnfandom #spn

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crueisummer · 10 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝓒𝓛16

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

series summary: Kika and Pierre invite you to their engagement party where you meet her and Pierre’s friends from F1, specifically, a certain handsome Monegasque driver.

chapter summary: You and Charles stay up talking about your dreams, fears, insecurities, and things that haunt your mind when you're alone.

chapter warnings: vvv emotional, feminism (oh no! jk), derogatory remarks, swearing, mental health, mentions of death (herve, jules, tonio)

playlist: ♫ gorgeous ♪ delicate ♬ i think he knows ♡ you are in love

author's note: Part 2 means we're halfway there!! For this chapter, I focused on the delicate's chorus to show the more vulnerable and "human" side of the characters. I will add the other aspects of the song to the following chapters. I also wrote this in a different style but I hope u guys like it. <333 Lastly, thank you all so much for almost 500 likes on the first chapter. ·°՞(≧□≦)՞°·. screaming! crying!

word count: 3.5k

disclaimer: All characters and events in this story, even those based on real people, are entirely fictional.

‎‎‎‎‎‎‎‎𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞

01:57 ━━━━●───── 03:52 ⇆ㅤ ㅤ◁ㅤ ❚❚ ㅤ▷ ㅤㅤ↻ ılıılıılıılı��lıılı ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮

The light beamed into your eyes from the window, intensifying the pounding in your head and increasing your thirst. As you opened your eyes, you squinted against the brightness, gradually adjusting to the sudden flash. Sensing movement beside you, you turned around to find Charles sleeping shirtless beside you. Memories of the previous night flooded back, replaying in your mind.

Before leaving the party with Charles, you looked for Kika to inform her of your departure. Seeing Charles waiting for you near the elevator, phone in hand, she expressed concern with a worried expression. Charles had recently ended a three-year relationship, and his ex happened to be the best friend of his previous ex. Kika was well aware of Charles' red flags, as she knew you, her dear friend Y/N, were known for wholeheartedly loving and falling hard for others who often failed to appreciate you as you deserved.

“Please be careful,” She smiled at you to which you nodded. She watched as you approached Charles and he smiled upon seeing you. As you waved farewell to Kika, she softly whispers to herself, “with each other’s hearts.”

You and Charles found yourselves seated on the floor of your hotel room's living room, uncomfortable party clothes off, cozy hoodies on, and legs crossed, with a spread of chips, beer, and mini alcohol bottles laid out before you. During your conversation, you discovered your shared value of family, discussing the strong relationships you both had with your loved ones.

"Are you close to your mom?" It was a question you always asked the guys you were interested in. You believed that a man who had a good relationship with his mother would treat his partner with love and respect. Although it didn't always turn out to be true, you still posed the question.

"Yeah, the first thing I do when I return to Monaco is visit her. You know, she's the only one I trust to cut my hair?" Charles smiles warmly, reminiscing about his mom. "You see, she's a professional hairdresser. So, sometimes when she watches me on TV, she'll send me a text saying I need a haircut. I just reply with her flight details to come see me, and we laugh about it, but she still comes over. That's why I've never had a bad haircut!"

"That is adorable! How often does she visit and watch your races?" You ask, eager to know more about his mother.

"Well, not as often as I'd like, that's for sure. She usually accompanies Arthur to his races."

"Races? He races too?"

"Yeah, he competes in Formula 2. Sometimes the Formula 1 and 2 races coincide on the same weekends so I get to see them both." You're momentarily taken aback. Wow, they must be RICH rich!

"Formula 2? How many Formulas are there?!" You exaggerate.

"Just three, cheri," he chuckles. "You know, my dad used to race in Formula 3 back in the '90s."

"So, it runs in the family, huh? What does your dad do now?" You inquire, looking down and grabbing a chip. The room falls into an unexpected silence, and you glance up, noticing a soft and melancholic expression on his face.

"Well, actually, I lost my dad seven years ago," he replies, offering a tight-lipped smile.

"Oh, Charles! I’m sorry, I had no idea..." Shock overtakes you, and you instinctively cover your mouth with your hand. Is that why he’s only been talking about his mom and brothers the whole night?

He interrupts, "No, it's okay. I think I’m getting used to talking about it. You know, they always interview me about their deaths. Sometimes I feel like they don't truly respect them, or me, and they just want me to talk about them for views and content."

"Deaths?" You're taken aback, struggling to comprehend the weight of his words.

"Yeah, over the past seven years, I've lost three important people in my life. My dad, my godfather Jules, and one of my best friends, Tonio."

"Charles, I'm so sorry to hear that. How have you been coping?" Rising from the floor, you move closer to him, placing a comforting hand on his thigh.

"Sometimes I find myself spiraling into these depressive episodes where I just want to close off my heart. Because if you close your heart, no new people can enter, only to leave again." He looks away, his eyes welling up with tears. Your expression softens, and he musters a small smile in your direction. He continues, his voice filled with emotion, "I've tried it before, but I realized that it doesn't make anything easier. These days, I just choose to remember them for who they were, their lives, their dreams, and the sacrifices they made for me to be where I am today."

You were taken aback at Charles’ maturity. The mere thought of losing someone dear to your heart was overwhelming, and here he was, having experienced the loss of not just one, but three significant people in his life. You couldn't help but admire him for getting through his hardships and finding happiness in the time he shared with them. Especially since he uses it as motivation to be a better person.

As your conversation continued, you decided to shift to a lighter topic in an attempt to lift Charles' spirits. You shared stories of performing in numerous countries, while Charles recounted his experiences racing in Formula 1 events across the globe. You laughed at how unfamiliar you were with his sport, just as he was with your music.

He asks if you have your phone with you.

"Um, it's somewhere around here," you respond while searching for it. Eventually, you spot it on the kitchen counter. "Why?"

"Just open Apple Music or Spotify, whichever you prefer," he says with a mischievous grin as you sit back down in front of him. You nod and show him that Apple Music is open.

"Now search for my name," he instructs, and you type his name, discovering that he is listed as an 'artist'. There’s no way…

"Charles Leclerc Artist? How are you an artist?" you raise an eyebrow at him and glance back at your phone. You notice that he has released two songs in the past year.

He laughs at your confusion. "Well, Ms. Grammy singer, I also play the piano. I wrote these songs last year and finished them around the time of the Australian GP and the Miami GP, which is why they're named AUS23 and MIA23."

You're shocked, your mouth hanging open dramatically as you listen to the songs. Charles laughs at your reaction. You didn't think he could become any more attractive, and now he surprises you with this. Could he be the incarnation of your dream man?

"That's amazing! I guess I know who to call when I need help with a song," you wink at him, and he chuckles.

"No, no. You're at least 100 times better than me. I don't have as much talent as you do to write lyrics for the music," he praises you.

“Okay, since you know a bit about my art and making a song and all that, I, on the other hand, have no fucking idea about Formula 1. Like, why do you have to travel all around the world and race on different tracks? Is it like some kind of world tour?" You burst into laughter at your own humorous analogy, and Charles, who was as intoxicated as you, finding it amusing as well.

“Do you really want to understand it?” You nod at his question as he sits up straight and stretches his head and hands, “warming up” to explain.

"You see, every race weekend is different. Let’s say you do Plan A for this weekend, sometimes it works, and we get podium. But sometimes despite our best efforts, it doesn’t. So, after the race, we talk about what went right and what went wrong and then we make a new plan for the next race. Do you understand so far?”

You nod at him. Though a slight confusion still lingered in your mind, you couldn't help but be captivated by the passion radiating from his every word. The way his eyes sparkled, and his voice exuded genuine excitement revealed the depth of his love for his job. In that moment, you realized that this wasn't merely a profession to him; it was a true calling, a relentless pursuit of excellence that fueled his spirit.

"I still don’t understand. Maybe being there and watching it firsthand can help me. What do you think?" you playfully suggest, winking at Charles as you extend your legs onto his lap. He responds by grabbing your leg with his left hand and dramatically clutching his heart with his right, feigning a heart attack. "Oh, amour, the thought of you in red."

As your connection deepened, you both began to open up and share parts of yourselves that were usually kept hidden. You spoke honestly about your doubts, worries, and the overwhelming thoughts that haunted you when you were alone.

"Can I ask you something?" you inquire, looking up at him.

"Go ahead," he replies, grabbing a chip and taking a bite.

"Have you read about me? Like on the internet, in articles or magazines?"

"I see the headlines, but I don’t really read them, so let's just go with a 'no,'" he says, wiping the salt and dust from his hands. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I’m sure I already know your answer, but doesn't it bother you sometimes, the things they write about you?" you question, and he nods, encouraging you to continue. "It's just that they always make comments about my personal life, especially with the people I choose to be with."

"Yeah, well, those people's lives are so miserable that they have nothing better to do than try to ruin ours," he jokes, attempting to lighten the mood, and you find yourself laughing.

You glance down at your lap, your hands fidgeting as you gather your thoughts, when Charles interrupts, taking your hand. "Hey, I know it sucks, but I think it's something that comes with success. It bothers me too when they do that to me. Look, I won't pretend to fully understand what you're going through because I know I don't."

You look up at him, puzzled. "Do you remember earlier at the party when you arrived before me? When your car pulled up at the restaurant, they went crazy. Now, I've been in front of cameras since I was a kid, and I know a thing or two about paparazzi, but I've never seen fame like yours before. They were taking so many pictures of you that it didn't even look like flashes anymore, it’s like someone had switched on a blinding light for those few seconds you walked from your car to the door."

"I couldn't really see you because of the crowd, but when I heard them shouting your name, it just made sense. Don't tell the engaged couple, but I'm 100% sure you were the best thing at the party. " he winks at you. "But still, that doesn't make it okay. The reason they act like that is because they are taking advantage of your popularity. They think that getting a good picture of you, or a story, out of you or even something they made up, is big money.”

You’ve thought of this before, the way they treat you is different from other celebrities, but you hesitated to bring them up, fearing it would make you appear arrogant. It was a nice change to discuss about your life, popularity and the challenges that come with it, and to be met with Charles' honest and genuine response. You look back at the times you talked about this with a partner, and how they dismissed your concerns, labeling you as ungrateful, overreacting, or even a drama queen. The contrast in reactions causes you to appreciate Charles' maturity, understanding and support.

Despite your seemingly different lives, his centered around sports, yours with music, your personalities and passion for your respective crafts and families made you remarkably similar. With every word exchanged, the infatuation between you grew stronger.

So, at 4 am, while leaning against the balcony of your hotel room, a comfortable silence settled between you.

“I’m going to be honest with you, I’ve never experienced this before.” Charles says softly. “Staying up at this hour and talking about my life and the shit I go through to a girl I’ve only met for 8 hours now. It makes me feel like I want to tell you my whole life. It feels…” He trails off, a loss for words.

“I get what you mean. I never thought we would have a lot in common, especially since from the outside, it looks like we’re living different lives. But it looks like we're not so different after all.”

“Y/N, I know it’s too soon because we’ve only just met but I really want to get to know you better.” He faces you and draws himself closer. His green eyes pierce your Y/E/C eyes, he smiles genuinely at you.

As you gaze at him, your heartbeat quickens. You can’t tell if this is real life because you’re experiencing emotions you’ve never felt before. Here stands a guy who is caring, grounded, and by the way, absolutely gorgeous, and he is genuinely interested in getting to know you. Your thoughts waver back and forth, questioning whether this is okay. Is it cool that I’ve shared everything in my mind with him? Is it chill that he’s in my head?

Your mind and heart go into battle. Think! After all, you've only known this person for eight hours! Eight hours, Y/N! On the other hand, what if this is actually okay? Could this be the story of you meeting "the one"? Or your soulmate?

You tried to find a compromise.

Blushing, you gazed up at him and agreed, “I feel the same way. But can we take it slow? I never like to rush things, especially relationships.”

He nods and hugs you from behind. “Is this alright?”

You hummed and you both stayed there, watching the stars and the beautiful view of Florence.

You didn’t want the night to end, and you couldn’t imagine saying goodbye to him right now. So you tried to make up excuses for him to stay. “But, you know, it’s too dangerous to drive at this hour.”

“Cheri, there is no such as thing as a time that is too dangerous to drive.” He chuckles at your cuteness. “Plus, I’m a Formula One driver, I think I can handle myself.”

“No, you can’t because we just finished doing shots like three hours ago! And what if other drunk people are driving around too?”

Charles lightly laughs at your stubbornness. He knows you’re too prideful to just tell him to stay the night, especially after you both agreed to keep things slow. He sees you avoiding his gaze, so he addresses you, “Y/N.”

As you looked up, he smiled at you and gently holds your chin and locking eyes. "Je suis folle de toi.” he uttered.

Confused, you smiled in anticipation, knowing he had likely said something sweet. Seconds later, he translated himself, the proximity between your faces nearly undoing you. "I am crazy about you.”

...

Carefully locating your phone, you closed the bedroom door behind you. Retrieving two water bottles from the mini fridge in the kitchen, you settled on the couch in the living room of your hotel suite, resting your legs on the coffee table.

You check your messages and there were some from Kika, and your management team. Kika texted you and said to meet her for brunch at 11. Though, with a Monegasque driver in your bed, you don’t know when you can leave, so you move on to the other conversations, keeping in mind that you reply to her soon.

Your management team’s group chats were asking where you are and who you were hanging with. You read their earlier messages and saw that there are articles and pictures of you and Charles leaving the party last night. You open your Twitter account and see the two of you are trending. Of course, we are.

You scrolled through the tweets and some fans were happy, some were not, some just... don't have any opinion. And you prefer the latter. Reading the tweets of the fans was one thing, but the way the media and articles talked about you was different. It's like they didn't have respect you.

The articles get to you, Why is there so much scrutiny around my dating life? They called you a serial dater, manipulator, etc., even creating "warnings" about you for Charles; saying you're just gonna break his heart and write a song about him.

You furrow your brow, wondering why they single you out like this and why other women aren't subjected to the same level of scrutiny. It's frustrating because they never say these things about other people, especially men in the industry who engage in similar dating behaviors. Your male friends in the industry can date different people or even cheat and sing about it without raising any eyebrows. But when it comes to you, the accusations fly.

When they accuse you of "jumping" from one relationship to another, they label you a player or claim you cheated. If you choose to casually date without exclusivity, they call you a slut. It never ends. Where do they expect me to stand? When will it all just stop?

You start to question whether the people you want to be with have seen what has been written about you and if your reputation, which may be based on something fake, can affect the real connections you might make. You begin to ponder the significance of it all and how much weight a reputation actually carries.

It's unfair. Your personal life should be yours alone, and people should mind their own business. If this is the price you pay for sharing your music and being famous, you want no part of it anymore. It feels like they don't respect you as a human being.

Hot tears stream down your face as your thoughts consume you, overwhelming you completely. Seeking solace, you sink from the couch to the floor, resting your chin on your knees. It's a familiar position, offering some comfort when you're feeling low. The grounding sensation reminds you that you're still here.

Unbeknownst to you, Charles already woke up and was also reading messages from his team. He was about to greet you when he heard you sniffling. He slowly opens the door and sees you on the ground, knees to your chest, crying. Suddenly, he understands the pain you're going through. He felt awkward. He didn't know whether to comfort you or pretend to go back to bed.

But Charles can't resist the sight of your shattered state. He pushes the door open fully and gazes at you, broken and vulnerable. His heart shatters alongside yours. Slowly, he approaches and sits in front of you, taking in the magnitude of your pain. You're startled, having forgotten he was sleeping in the other room. You wonder if he knows what you're crying about, if he's seen the internet already, but the thought pushed back behind your head when a pair of warm, gentle hands cups your face, thumbs trying to wipe away your tears.

"What's wrong, mon ange?" he asks softly.

"Everything. The things they say about me... they're so mean. They're ruining my name, my reputation..." You manage to utter between sobs.

"Shh.. I know, cheri. But I don't care about what they write, alright? I want to know you. The real you." He comforts you. Running his hand up and down your arm as you find solace in his comforting embrace.

For the next ten minutes, you pour your heart out to him, releasing your pent-up emotions. When Charles senses that you had calmed down, he fetches the water bottle from the table and hands it to you. You finish it in one go.

"Feeling a little better now?" He offers, his considerate nature shining through. You smile and nod, appreciating his thoughtfulness.

"Have you eaten anything yet?" he asks, showing his concern for your well-being. You shake your head for a no.

“Do you feel like going downstairs, or should we order room service?" Going for a walk would be refreshing, and it might help improve your mood, but given that you've just bared your soul to him, you don't feel like going out. More importantly, you remember that you'll encounter numerous people and potentially face unwanted attention when you're seen again with Charles.

"We? You don't have to stay here with me. I feel better already." You face him, pulling away from his embrace. You instantly regret it as you start to feel cold already, missing the warmth of his body against yours.

"And I'm not leaving until you feel your best again. So, restaurant or room service?" He asks again. God, he is even more hot when he's stern... and caring about my well-being, of course.

Considering your current state, you prefer the comfort of staying within the confined space of your room, cuddled up next to him. "Room service, please."

↠ ⁿᵉˣᵗ ˢᵒⁿᵍ 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬

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firesnap · 2 months

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i have a genuine question. i promise i am not at all trying to defend him. ive dropped him entirely, literally deleted everything i had of him and unliked his songs.

ive just been wondering like considering that he has been in therapy, and also considering how if he does take a year off and then comes back, why cant it be redeemable? like cant people change? cant we give them second chances? he is 27. is he just doomed to be an abuser forever?

its just scary and im asking as like a younger person who is in my very early 20s. i know ive made mistakes. i know ive not been a good partner or friend sometimes. (and yes i was also abusive to a past partner...im not proud of it and ive learned from it. i have never ever touched anyone in that way after that. it took awhile but my current relationship isnt toxic and i would never hurt anyone or hit them again yknow?) and it scares me that people keep insinuating that he is irredeemable. like cant abusers change and become better? dont they get second chances? if shelby has grown and healed in 10 months wouldn't it be fair to say the same for wilbur?

im just genuinely asking because based on everything i believe you are older than me and im looking for guidance and just...idk im scared. growing up on the internet has made me so scared of making mistakes and doing anything wrong because when it happens to others i look up to, its always treated as something they'll never be able to change or improve. makes me feel like imma just be a horrible person forever because i made mistakes in the past.

This is a really complicated question that multiple answers can validly fit.

I don't think, personally, that anyone is irredeemable. I think everyone is on a journey of forgiveness and some of us may need more grace than others.

This is tw// abuse even more than the current topic, but my mom was incredibly abusive. We lived in a very rural area and she had a lot of undiagnosed problems and trauma of her own that created a pressure pot of issues. After I was born, she suffered through full on post-partum psychosis that nearly ended about as well as that sentence implies it could have. She was incredibly violent, controlling, and cruel for years. My sister went no-contact with her the second she turned 18. A significant event occurred that eventually spurned her into seeking real treatment that lasted for years. It's still ongoing.

My sister is also still no contact and I support her decision 100%. Those are her wounds and what she needed to do to get peace should be respected. I decided I wanted a relationship with the person who came out of all that work and, even then, it's been hard. I don't know if she's redeemed herself, and my god do we still have bumps in the road, but I support her for trying.

With Wilbur, how he responds to this is going to really impact a lot of things. I mean, I know no matter how he responds I won't be going on whatever journey of redemption and healing he has to go through. I'm tired and I feel hurt enough. I would think, if he wanted to show he was sincere, admitting what happened would be a great sense of closure for a lot of people who put time and energy and faith into this guy for years.

Not every person that causes harm is inherently evil, but there has to be some kind of knowledge that you're aware of the harm you've caused. No one is stuck as anything forever, life is constantly moving, and most people aren't saying his life is just over. You can work on yourself. You can change. And I'm saying that specifically to you, anonymous.

(Saying this, actually, there ARE people who would argue once you've done x you're beyond redemption based entirely on their life experiences as a victim, personal histories and many other factors. Kinda like my sister, that's their choice. And you have to accept that sometimes you fuck up so badly that you will permanently lose some people from your life. But your life isn't over.)

But I do think, regardless of what he says or does about this, his time of controlling a large platform is at an end. He can still do a lot of things in his life after he works on himself -- editing, song producing, directing, writing or whatever -- but being in charge of a large impressionable audience that could enable more destructive behaviors is just not it.

#the current state of things

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heyclickadee · 3 months

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Okay, a few thoughts on the trailer now that I’ve collected my thoughts a bit:

1. Between the shots of the crashed ship and Omega in the cockpit, it’s looking like a self-rescue on Omega’s part. At this point I’m thinking she gets herself and Crosshair out, and then, based on the shots of Cross with the batch, gets separated from him at some point. He rejoins the batch, and she is…somewhere else. Though I don’t know if that means she goes back to Tantiss.

2. It’s entirely possible that she gets got by one of the bounty Hunters in the trailer, and that’s what separates her from Crosshair.

3. I do think that it is Crosshair in the armor, but other possibilities include: one, Tech, who may not have his own armor anymore and needed to wear something protective on short notice, and; two, Hunter’s having a real bad time and is actually hallucinating Crosshair being with them. I don’t think that’s the case though—I think it really is Crosshair.

4. It’s also possible that those shots with Crosshair are from a little later on in the season.

5. Poor Omega’s going to be in Tantiss for months.

6. I swear Hunter looks like he’s lost weight. Like. I know a lot of the fandom is deep in the Crosshair and Tech are twins sauce (and honestly, I am too, I adore that head-canon and basically think if it as canon), but darn it if Hunter isn’t getting so drawn he’s starting to look a little like Crosshair.

7. I find it weirdly amusing that the half the trailer in which the bad batch actually features is mostly taken up by Hunter and Wrecker doing Adventure Man things. I get the sense they were scrounging to find shots of the batchers that weren’t massively spoilery (and they still put those shots of Crosshair in. Which, admittedly, is one of the things that makes me slightly suspicious of that being Crosshair at all, because that could be a misdirect, but only slightly).

8. I’m going to laugh if it turns out that Cid hired all of the bounty hunters we see to find Omega. Like, if that’s what she uses the money she got from Hemlock for, and she’s basically trying to get Omega out of the situation she got Omega into and goes a little overboard on the means.

9. Ventress! I’ll be honest, Ventress has never been at the top of my favorite character list, though I’ve warmed up to her quite a bit (I used to like the idea of her more than the execution), but I always love Nika Futterman’s performance, and I’m intrigued to see Ventress here at the very least. Because. How. She was very dead. Very, very dead. Not “fell into The Mists” dead—she had a funeral after being dead for months. My only thoughts are that were either seeing her in a flashback sequence that takes place before Dark Disciple, or it turns out that nightsisters can use their force magic to do some weird shit after getting hit by lightning. Either way, I don’t think she’s fighting Wrecker and Hunter here—that’s just some misleading editing.

10. Man, I hope Hemlock dies a lot.

11. Anyway, speaking of the dead and those back from it, Tech is so alive and I’m trying to not be the Smuggest of Gremlins until we for sure see him, but jeez are they making that difficult. (I checked the trailer release blurb on the Star Wars dot com page—it doesn’t mention Tech being dead. It just says the team is “scattered” after the events of season two. Like. Guys, you’re not even trying anymore.)

12. And more on Tech, I do think it’s possible—possible, mind you—that Tech is the guy we see in the clone X armor in front of what looks like the Archium. There are some small differences between that armor and both the armor we see on Clone X in season two, and the Clone X we see speaking later in the trailer—namely, the shoulder straps, what looks like a glass visor covering the two eyeholes, and *sigh* the pouches. And it’s the straps and the pouches that are giving him a bit more of a Tech-ish silhouette—especially the pouches, and especially from behind. If it is Tech, though, I don’t think it’s a brainwashed Tech at all (and honestly, it’s the pouches that make me lean towards not brainwashed if it is Tech in there, because a shin pouch is just a very Tech-and-not-blank-slate thing to wear).

I actually think it’s more likely that it’s Tech in disguise and having taken the armor from the Clone X we see later in the trailer (with some adjustments of his own), and that that’s what’s being referred to by the titles “Infiltration” and “Extraction;” Tech infiltrating imperial forces, and then the others having to get him (and probably the people of Pabu) out. And, if that’s the case, I’m banking on these shots being from the midseason. (I know I said I wasn’t going to speculate on the episode titles. That was aspirational.)

Basically, I could be persuaded that it’s Tech in there or that it’s not. I’m less likely to be persuaded that it’s a brainwashed Tech in there—I still don’t think that’s happening.

12. Whether that is Tech in that armor or not, I do think that the clone X we see speaking in the trailer isn’t the same guy in the armor in the Archium shot.

13. I am SO HAPPY to see Phee back THANK GOODNESS. I was a little worried they’d drop her like a rock, but nope! She’s here! She’s got her cool jacket! We see her ship!

14. There is a criminally small amount of Echo in the trailer, but I’m not giving up on seeing more of him. It’s possible that he’s either a walking spoiler, or that he features a little more heavily in the back half of the season.

15. “The Cavalry Has Arrived” is the most optimistic episode title in the whole damn show and, yes, I will die on this hill.

16. Crosshair. Oh, Crosshair. Someone please save him immediately.

17. There’s a lot of early doom panic around, well, everyone and everyone (especially Hunter) dying that I’m honestly going to ignore going forward. For reasons.

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #bad batch spoilers #the bad batch season 3 #here in the land of wild speculation

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dotster001 · 1 year

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May I request one of the Twisted Earth story you made but like with the Heartslabyul students?

Twisted Earth Part Two

Summary: Heartslaybul x gn!reader. They are real, and you're the game.

Part One Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six

His mother disapproved of video games, they took away from study time. So when Cater took his phone and downloaded the game for him, he didn't open it for months.

It's the only game on his phone, and it's in a hidden folder so that when his mother searches his phone, she can't find it.

He only plays once a month, usually after Cater tells him an event is going on. He'll heave a heavy sigh, open it for an hour or so, and not play again.

He was drawn to you. He doesn't know what it is. Maybe he's touch starved, maybe he knows his mother wouldn't approve of you if you were real, or maybe there's something about you that, deep down, makes him feel safe.

He doesn't actually have any of your cards. His only cards he has are from his initial ten pull that the game gave him. But he read through the story, and that's all he needs for now.

Cater also kidnapped his phone to download the game. He only plays while he's waiting for things in the oven to finish up. So he actually plays a lot, but in short intervals.

He thinks you'd help him with his jobs. Or maybe you wouldn't, and you'd cause more trouble. He understands it would depend on your mood. But he's along for the ride.

He drew your basic SSR in his first ten pull, and he's satisfied with that. He never plays events, because he just doesn't have time or energy for it. He can just see pictures and the stories that come with online, without having to invest the effort.

For the last unbirthday party, he made a cake loosely I spired by you and your color scheme. The only person who noticed was Cater, who smirked at him the entire time. Trey was definitely not blushing when Cater confronted him about it.

The second the game was starting to look like it'd go viral, it was on Carter's phone, and his magicam. He did a thorough review, and gave it five stars! The game devs were thrilled and reached out to him for a sponsorship. He's been regularly sponsored ever since.

He has modeled several looks based on your colors. He's doing the twisted wonderland version of Disney bounding for you. The first time he did, your voice actor reached out to him. His most viral magicam post is him and your va modeling "Disney bound" looks of a particularly popular event outfit you had.

If he's not on magicam, he's playing your game. He has all your cards, and is neglecting any character that isn't you. (Apologies to your peers, he just isn't interested) He giggles a little whenever your character greets him on the home screen. He thinks you're so sweet, he just wants to scoop you up and protect you from all the bad in the world.

Speaking of…he loves to read angst fanfiction where he comes to your rescue or cheers you up. He is definitely not crying and thinking about his own depression. His eyes are just pissing.

Having befriended the devs and your va, there's talk of having him as a VA when the anime comes out… so follow for announcements on his magicam!

Thought you were hot. Downloaded the game for that reason, and that reason alone. (Sorry guys, I love ace, but irl he's a fuck boy, and you can't change my mind)

A very casual, and secretive, player. Doesn't want anyone to know he's playing, no matter how popular or mainstream it is.

Anyone who the devs or fandom ship with you is blacklisted in his mind. He barely takes care of your cards, but those cards are never used and never looked at.

He has a body pillow of you, but it's hidden under his bed so that Deuce and his roommates can't find it. He's pretty sure they'd make fun of him if they knew (he's right, they would). When all three of his roommates are out of town, or gone home for a short holiday or something, he'll pull it out and cuddle "you".

You're adorable, hard working, and so kind to those you care about. It was love at first sight for poor Deuce. Sevens, he wishes you were real.He worries his past would scare you off if you were real, though. So he's fine pretending for now.

His mom knows about his like of your character, and got him a chibi plushie of you. It sits on his desk. He's so happy to have it.

He plays a lot, but he's not very good at the battles or rhythm game elements. So he's just an average player. Nothing to write home about.

He is one of the many secret techies of NRC, so he and Idia teamed up to design an otome version of your game. He uses a pseudonym, because he would just die if anyone found out he'd worked on it.

He has half of your basic collection, and one of your event cards. He's so proud of his collection, even though it's not the best one in the world.

Wrote a fan letter to the devs. He got back a poster signed by them and all the va's. He was so happy.

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madeupoflowers · 2 years

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Your next partner & the connection

(has an 18+ section)❤️‍🔥

❗️You’ve been warned🫡

This is my first 18+ reading so beware of any triggers and please if this isn’t your cup of tea then skip this reading. I know this isn’t for everyone. Most importantly take what resonates. Nothing is forced and set in stone. Free will is and will ALWAYS be in our hands. Remember that, love!

I hope you enjoy. Take care!🖤

Piles 1-2 are top row

Piles 3-4 are bottom row

🖤💋🖤💋🖤💋🖤💋🖤

Pile 1

The connection: I feel your next partnership will be a little traditional in terms of roles, there will be one person with dominant masucline energy and another with prominent feminine energy though apply based off of your preferences not entirely gender. This person wants to take charge and court you. They don’t appear emotional and seem strict and hardened. I see them being physically larger than you either in height, weight or musculature. I see someone standing over another person. Even if this is someone shorter, they have an aura of being so much larger(lol I heard “when ya girl 5’5 but got a personality that’s 6’5”). This person doesn’t fuck around, they want a real relationship so if you wanted a fling, maybe choose another pile since that is NOT the energy given at all here. The masculine wants to give you the world. Honestly, they may not care if you want to sit pretty I mean they love you either way. Buying anything you desire and cherishing you, such a hot energy. Warning though they are stubborn especially in traditional ways. So this could be someone who wants their partner to stay home while they provide and care which could for many be what causes some conflicts. Also, this person takes their sweet ass time lol. “What’s the rush?” They like to chill and do their thing, no drama here they hate that shit. It will take some time but once you get close their emotional and sweet side will really start to show. I’m gonna be real here, this person gives “Daddy” vibes if you know what I mean yes that can apply to a female its just the energy.

(rider waite: EMP, 4OW, WRLD, 9OP, KNOP, KOC)

Some steamy details(18+): Ooooh yeah they wanna be the dominant and “experienced” partner. They are passionate and may literally wanna get down and dirty in random places. Body worship mainly on the feminine’s part. Like’s you all dressed up and feeling your best. I see them wanting you or sneaking up on you randomly when y’all get back or getting ready to go to a nice event or restaurant. Male or female choosing this pile, this person likes their partner more feminine dressed, backless dresses, spaghetti straps and I see lots of flowers especially flower detail on shirt straps, lace and especially pantyhose/stockings. I am getting for some that this person lowkey likes innocence and making someone turn “freak” if you know where I’m getting at. Corruption type beat here. Not malicious though! Though, here is some tea, the masculine is all dominant and mighty in public yet I feel in private they lowkey want you to kick their ass in bed(IM TOTALLY FUCKING WITH Y’ALL). But seriously, don’t mind you being more crazy and fierce in bed and may be a deep desire of theirs. Remember in the first part of this reading I mentioned them taking time to reveal their vulnerable and sweet side? Well once they do and are safe to be “weaker” around you then they will reveal this submissive desire of theirs. This is funny cause it’s a proven fact that many people in power have secret desires to be dominated by those no one would expect.

(sex magic tarot: KNOC, SUN, 9OS, EMPRSS, 2OP, AOS)

(you got my favorite song and the singer is also the guy in the photo you chose!)

Pile 2

The connection: This person is fast moving and likes to GET SHIT DONE. At times their bossy and rushed nature will step on some toes especially yours. I do thing y’all may bicker especially playfully(so no worries!). I think this relationship will have many bickering arguments that will be made up as quickly as they started. There is a likely chance that the reason why this person is snappy at times and needs things done their way is due to internal issues and trauma even. Other’s might’ve not have truly stood up to this person or their words went on this person’s “deaf” ears. However, I feel that’s gonna change with you. You will be someone that this individual will genuinely feel that they can give some space on the throne for and brings the hope that you won’t leave and cave like everyone else. I know this isn’t a healthy coping or habit but I do feel this person is truly kind but has been forced to grow a hardened and controlling aura due to past pains and disappointments by those they should’ve been able to rely on. I heard “Fuck it I’ll be the person I rely on and rely on ONLY.” It’s sad but I’m glad this person will want you to grow a stable connection and build a foundation that you both can dictate together. Lol.

(rider waite: 8OW, CHRT, 5OW, AOC, 7OP, AOP)

Some steamy details(18+): He/she like’s playful flirting and teasing like the female on the card is grazing the male’s leg under the table. This person likes topping for sure and hugging. Like’s feeling like the strong and protective partner so will literally want to squeeze you when y’all hug or embrace(wink wink). Despite this person’s need for control, I think they will cave to you eventually and want you to snap them in shape. Warning for some of y’all so if this triggers you then don’t accept this specific message because free will is a thing okay? This person could like threesomes or foursomes. Like’s roleplaying. Gets off on the outside world not knowing what crazy stuff goes on behind closed doors. May not want you too revealing or talking about y’all’s bedroom life since they like the mystery. This sound’s so Scorpio esque like Scorpio venus and mars specifically. Like’s low cut tops but nothing else too revealing. I keep seeing a person in an emerald colored long sleeved, low cut top with a black headband which frames their long brown hair perfectly. Very specific message but I see someone here who fits the description, really turning on their partner with that look. Take what resonates. Sorry if I couldn’t get too many juicy details, I truly feel this person wants to conceal that energy which makes sense if they want their sexual life a mystery to outsiders, except you and them.

(sexual magic tarot: 2OW, 6OS, AOC, QOP, WHEEL, HP)

Pile 3

The connection: They are guarded especially energetically and I feel they have every right to be. This person was taken advantage of financially or had their kindness taken for weakness. Maybe they bought people nice things or lent money to help. Leaving them with nothing. Now they want to conceal themselves from being read energetically too since if say they have money or fame, you won’t know until they let you know. I feel anything grand or gifted about them will be hidden at least in the beginning. Anyways, this person will scope you out and once they see the potential of something good then they will take the risk towards you. I feel this person isn’t very extroverted or experimental or at first. Very cautious of new chances and may feel it’s too good to be true due to past disappointments so you may have to get them out of their shell a bit. Be aware he/she is prone to falling into stagnant energy and unhealthy habits or forms of escapism. They may kind of fall into codependent relationships and it’s possible you could be their “savior” in some way. Sorry if this since this isn’t exactly what many want to hear but remember a lot of this person’s energy is being hidden and protected so this is literally just the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure they have a good heart, simply are victims of a painful event or situation that did them horrible and dirty. They are still healing when you both start getting together.

(rider waite: HP, 9OW, POP, AOW, 4OC, DVL)

Some steamy details(18+): They lean a bit towards the submissive side in bed. Really enjoy seeing you confident and feeling happy, to them you shine. I see a lot of you feminine’s are more on the dominant side anyways. Foot fetishes or like’s to do it with heels/nice shoes on. Will want to buy you flowers or do little and charmingly cute things for you, the type to see a pretty plastic ring and want to give it to you just because they adore you. It’s wholesome and innocent in a way. Homebody’s here, may take some coaxing to do anything outside. May want to write you poems and perhaps sexy texting is their cup of tea. Type to make a surrounding comfy and homey before getting down. This is a message for a handful of you only, they may like c*ckholding or voyuerism ok. Or just watching adult movies with you. Emphasis on the chest area and I feel if this is a male, that he has facial hair and a roman/hawklike nose. Thick eyebrows.

(sexual magic tarot: QOW, 2OS, AOP, KNOC, 10OC, HRMT)

Pile 4

The connection: Right away this will be a “forbidden” connection. This person is in a high position or role that requires responsibility and forseeing others’ work. I feel they are older. When you or they try to get close, I feel someone really fucking annoying will notice and charge in to say some dumb shit which will unfortuanly cause you so much distress. This could be another higher up, main boss or annoying ass taddle tail, etc. Either way this start of this connection will be a challenge and there is some sneaking around one way or another. The person you’ll want will be well respected and I am seeing very attractive, if male he has darker features except skin tone(like brunette hair, black eyes, yet pale as snow), very specific for a handful, also male or female they are tall or have excellent posture. You will notice this powerful, confident and great posture right away so if you needed a way to identify. I think some of you already know this person(take what resonates). I think this person puts responsibility over love and their heart, it’s sad cause it hurts them so but they have had to be the responsible and strong one for as long as they can remember. Please don’t hate them or take it personal. They don’t want to hurt you.

(rider waite: 2OS, JDMT, 10OP, KNOS, 9OS, KOP)

Some steal details(18+): Well goddamn okay. This is a sexy son of a b*tch that’s for sure. You want a soft yet stern doms/domme? This is for you lol. I get handsome/beautiful, bossy yet charmingly pain in the ass type energy. Like a tease. I keep seeing someone smirk. A little shit thats for sure! They enjoy taking charge and believe me you won’t mind it at all. This person believes practice makes perfect and Lord I feel they have and do. Ummm, if a man, he could have a large you know what. I feel he is proud of this but is one of the types that doesn’t tell everyone but slying enjoys people’s reactions when they get with him behind closed doors. So male or female, this person is charming and kind, so kind. Ugh, like they want to give you all you need and want just to see you light up with joy(yes this goes sexually and non-sexually). Like’s incoropating food and drink into the bedroom. Lowkey would bang outside under the starts. Yet so cute and cuddly, y’all I’m jealous. Has a lot of wild and freaky kinks that I feel y’all will like to play out together. Don’t let this person’s work persona and seriousness scare you, they are a big softie and teddy bear in the end. This person will never abuse their power both outside the bedroom and inside. Aftercare is a big deal here especially if there is any extreme practices, Iike I said, they won’t use their power against you. “Your wish is my command.” Have fun with this one. I mean the photo for this pile gives off a strong and primal energy to it so yeah haha.

(sexual magic tarot: KOS, EMP, DVL, 6OC, STR, 7OP)

(omg this song fits this energy so much plus it’s an amazing song and band, check it out!)

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