#⎧ 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟 ⟡ ࣪

[lavendercitizen]

I've been in the mood for more soft!dark works recently so this has come at just the right time and navyyyy you absolutely knocked it out of the park. that slow reveal, the eerie underlying tone before and the oscillating mix of emotions after; reading it was like piecing together a puzzle.

"That's what you do to me, too," he said.

🥺 bucky's characterization in this was so riveting, he seems so oddly ingenuous almost, and it's scary and enticing at the same time until he snaps :') i loved the bit of insight we get on his past, it makes me feel for him even though i shouldn'ttt but i digress lol

[...] If you really were an angel, why couldn't you fly away? Why did you let him clip your wings?

what a line💔 her distress is written so painfully beautiful, and it's always a treat to get so much complexity in a dark fic. love love love this <3

Send Me an Angel

Pairing: Soft Dark Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader Summary: Bucky thinks you're an angel. Word Count: Over 1.8k Warnings: Implied explicit sexual content, Dubcon/NonCon elements (you are responsible for your own media consumption) dirty talk, kidnapping, beginning stages of stockholm syndrome, Bucky Barnes (he’s a warning, okay?). A/N: My entry for @the-slumberparty 's I Spy Challenge. I've included all three prompts in some way. Happy to get back into the soft dark pool! ❤️ Beta read by @whisperlullaby , but any and all mistakes are my own. Moodboard by yours truly, Bucky edit by the incredible Nix, banner by the wonderful @sgt-seabass , and divider by the amazing @firefly-graphics . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Please reblog or comment as it means the world!

It was early morning when you woke up alone in Bucky's bed. You only knew that based on the time from the clock on the nightstand since he had blackout curtains. You groggily wiped at your eyes to wake yourself up a bit more as you turned on the lamp. Caffeine would help if you had any.

Maybe you could convince him to bring you a drink if you asked nicely.

"Bucky?" you called out, your voice cracking as you began to sit up.

It took you a moment to remember that he wouldn't exactly hear you even if you yelled.

The familiar ache between your thighs stopped you from sitting up completely, the memory of the previous night imprinted in your mind. And every night since you went on your first date with the handsome bartender. While you had a feeling he'd be amazing in bed the moment you laid eyes on him, you underestimated his stamina.

Like the morning after.

You always felt a bit vulnerable when you showered, your guard down more than normal. It shouldn't have surprised you when Bucky joined you, but you still shrieked when he pressed you against the wall. You were sure you would've fallen if his firm grip hadn't kept you propped up.

"Round two and three weren't enough?" you teased as he traced the water droplets on your skin with his tongue.

"It'll never be enough," he answered, leaving a small bite on your collarbone. "I can't help myself."

"Bucky, I need to finish up and go," you moaned as he moved his hands to your ass, your traitorous body not putting up much of a fight.

"So perfect for me," he groaned against your neck, like he hadn't heard you. "You can take me again. I know you can. Just give me one more."

You did. You took all of him, just like he said you would. Like a good girl.

The sick thing was that part of you craved it.

Your heartbeat quickened at the sound of footsteps outside of the door. You learned that Bucky could be silent if he wished, so the deliberate sounds meant he wanted you to know he was there. It was considerate.

Or was it just a way to show that he was in control?

"Morning," Bucky said as he opened the door with a sheepish smile. "Sorry I wasn't here when you woke up. I wanted to surprise you."

You told yourself to smile back when he held up a small bouquet. Red camellias. The same flowers he gave you when he took you out to dinner. He even wore the same leather jacket he was wearing now.

How long ago had it been since he took you out?

You were losing track of the days.

"Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."

His smile widened, pleased by your reaction. "I know it isn't a diamond necklace, but I thought you'd like them. They reminded me of our first date."

"I remember," you nodded.

You watched as he walked over to the nightstand and set the flowers down. He shrugged his jacket off a moment later and tossed it on the recliner in the corner. He liked to sit in it some days to read.

Or watch you.

Whatever particular mood he was in.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked as he sat on the bed beside you.

"Just fine," you smiled, bringing a finger up to trace the tattoo on his neck.

Bucky Barnes had to be one of the most handsome men to ever grace this earth. Well over six feet tall with a buff frame and a glare that could kill, he seemed more suited to be a bouncer than a bartender. The tattoos and nose piercing added to his appeal. But it was his icy blue eyes that nearly made you spill your drink when he handed it to you.

Thankfully you recovered enough to grab a seat on an empty stool and flirt with him.

You didn't know it would change everything.

"Keep touching me like that and I'll have to ruin you."

"We can't have that," you joked.

"Why not?" he asked, taking your hand before you could pull it away. He looked into your eyes as he brought it to his mouth. Instead of kissing the top of it, he turned and brushed his lips on the inside of your wrist. "Your heart is racing."

"That's what you do to me," you said truthfully.

Out of lust. Fear. Both.

"That's what you do to me, too," he said.

To prove his point, he placed your hand on his chest.

You knew it beat for you.

"Did I tell you that meeting you changed my life?" he asked.

"It did?" you replied, even though you already knew.

You searched his expression anyway when he smiled. When you spotted him that first night at the bar, his grin appeared forced when he helped other customers. It never quite reached his eyes. He told you over dinner that it was a show for others, a mask to hide how he really felt.

With you, he showed a genuine smile and softer side.

One you believed you could trust.

"I wasn't in a good place. It's hard to explain, but I felt like I was drifting through my life," he began, moving his hand to tuck the sheet around your body more. You weren't sure when you began to tremble, but of course he noticed. He didn't miss a thing. "I was actually close to quitting the bar and leaving town when you walked up and ordered a drink. I wanted to ask you out right away, but I didn't want to seem like a creep."

He chuckled and ran a hand through his short, dark hair. You found excuses to go back to the bar more often and it still took him weeks to ask you out. You thought he was being a gentleman.

"I'm sorry you weren't in a good place," you said.

"Don't apologize. This path in life led me to you and I'll tell you more about it one day," he smiled, sliding his hand over the sheet until he stopped at your hip. "You know, girls have hit on me, even a few guys, but no one got my attention the way you did."

His insatiable nature told you as much.

"And your kindness. How you listened to me. Wanted to know me," he continued, a dreamy look taking over his features. "You showed me that angels exist."

Listening to Bucky was easy. He didn't brag about anything to try and impress you. When he spoke, you knew it came from the heart. Who wouldn't want to know him more?

Especially when he seemed so eager to know you?

"I'm not an angel," you stated.

You sucked in a breath when he gripped your chin. You didn't see him move. He was so quick. Always faster than you.

Stronger.

"You must be an angel because you saved me."

If I saved you, why am I damned?

"Isn't that what angels do? They save people, right?" he asked rhetorically. "Bring them joy? Hope? Love?"

"Love?" you whispered.

Is this love?

"Love," he smiled, releasing your chin. "An angel leading me straight to heaven. That's what it feels like when I'm inside you. Fucking paradise. My warm, wet paradise."

It stunned you enough to stay silent when he bent down to kiss your forehead, your walls clenching around nothing.

Why were you reacting to him?

"But I'm selfish," he admitted against your skin as a tear slid from the corner of your eye. "Because you're my angel and I can't share you with anyone else."

"So you still won't let me go?" you asked evenly.

With a sigh, he pushed himself and moved to the end of the bed. He carefully moved the sheet to expose your ankle and check the cuff. You weren't sure if he was inspecting to make sure you weren't injured or to make sure you hadn't tried to tamper with it.

Bucky convinced you to go back to bed after he had you in the shower that fateful morning. He even sweet talked you into letting him cuff you before he split you open on his cock. When you reminded him that you had to work, once you could talk again, he said he already took care of it.

You hadn't left his place since.

Maybe if you had been thinking with your head instead of your pussy, you wouldn't be his prisoner.

"You know I can't do that," he said above a whisper, tilting his head a fraction and covering your ankle again.

You didn't shrink back when his gaze settled on you, as much as you wanted to. You shouldn't have asked that. All things considered, he took care of you. The chain was long enough that you could reach the bathroom. He kept the place warm. There was plenty of food for you.

No weapons were within reach though. The lamp and clock were bolted to the table so you couldn't hit him with them. If he had neighbors, they didn't hear your cries for help. He promised he would always know if you were in danger since he had cameras set up.

That was why it took him weeks to ask you out.

He was preparing for you.

Was anyone even looking for you?

"But Bucky-"

"Don't. You're not leaving me," he snapped, pulling away the sheet he had carefully tucked around you moments ago. "This is your home now and I'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and happy."

Except give you your freedom.

What happened to you, Bucky? What demons plagued you so much that you think you have to keep me here?

"I'm sorry," you said immediately as his eyes raked over your naked body.

"You don't even like the flowers, do you?" he asked in a small voice.

"I love the flowers. Really," you promised. A bright spot in a dark place. "Maybe we can even recreate our date right here at home. What do you think?"

He considered your words as you gave him a hopeful smile. He hadn't hurt you and you wanted to keep it that way. If he was happy, you could be happy.

Wait. Why did you just think that?

"We can," he agreed in a husky tone as he stood up and unbuckled his belt. "But for now, let's recreate the end of our date. I need to make my angel feel good."

You blinked away tears as you opened your legs without being told. If you really were an angel, why couldn't you fly away? Why did you let him clip your wings?

And why weren't you fighting harder to get out of the cage he put you in?

Poor thing. Bucky will take care of you, right? Maybe we'll see down the road. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lavendercitizen]

changed my tags up a little !

[redoneprophecy]

⤥ 𝐓𝐀𝐆 𝐆𝐔𝐈𝐃𝐄

𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘭𝘭 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳

#𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧 ʚɞ — my aesthetic

#𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟 ೀ — fics i plan on reading

#𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐦 𖤓 — breathtaking art

#𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲. 𐦍༘ — funny things/shitposts

#𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐬𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𖡎 — celebrity crushes

𝘱𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘯1513

[dazzlingjaeyun]

✧ 𝐝𝐚𝐳𝐳𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐣𝐚𝐞𝐲𝐮𝐧’𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟

୨⎯ yang jungwon | 양정원 ⎯୧

as long as it takes you

requiem

୨⎯ lee heeseung | 이희승 ⎯୧

just studying

2:18am (pt.1)

2:18am (pt. 2)

୨⎯ park jongseong | 박종성 ⎯୧

the girl i like

ruin our friendship

pretending (mdni)

୨⎯ sim jaeyun | 심재윤 ⎯୧

happier

zoom in

after party (mdni)

home

bandaids (teaser)

୨⎯ park sunghoon | 박성훈 ⎯୧

ice-crossed

angel (mdni)

୨⎯ kim seonwoo | 김선우 ⎯୧

favorite time

blush

୨⎯ nishimura riki | 西村 力 ⎯୧

sweet escape (pt. 1)

sweet escape (pt. 2)

୨⎯ ot7 drabbles ⎯୧

quality time with enhypen

acts of service with enhypen

situationship (hyung line only)

[lavendercitizen]

nika❤️

the fact that i did not know you had a jefferson fic is actually a crime and they should have me locked up for it, because that is my baby, my everything, my sweet sweet boy who did nothing wrong ever and whomst i fully support.

this was so whimsical and the heart of this reader (Checkerboard tiles in the kitchen. You decide you’ve broken enough rules for a day and cross them strictly diagonally until you hit a corner cabinet) truly directs this entire story.

to write your prose in such a way that it just radiates with the energy intended is a skill i only ever dream to obtain (what i mean is this piece is restless and sublime and has that alice in wonderland esque quality), but when i think of literally any of your works the same applies. this was so wildly creative, i cannot imagine a better approach for a friends to lovers + jefferson story, please give me just an ounce of your imagination :')) <3

The red on his cheeks felt almost like a betrayal, but you didn’t mean that, anyway, so it didn’t count[...]

she's so me but !!!

Whenever he held her like this, he felt as helpless and alone as he did that first time when she was crying for her mother and there was no one there but him.

literally going to bonk you on the head for this (affectionately) my HEART💔 what a line

Stepping into Jefferson’s sitting room is a little like entering a creature’s belly and sitting down next to its beating heart, pressing so close you can feel it pulsating through you.

taping this and all the little descriptions of his sitting room into the jefferson shaped nook in my heart

[...] Now, your moments of clarity seem to be farther apart every time. "Was she nice?"

cursed to remember and cursed to forget but not like the others nika i am once again bonking you.

"Some people really don’t deserve a wish."

i know you're JOKING right now because why would you rip out my heart like that (i'm definitely thanking you for it ok!!!).

Your smile was soft and sad and sliced him in two all over again.

I know you did not just :-))))) nika. laptop. hand it over!!

tbh I wish I could comment on every single little line I adored but then I'd be sitting here for a while, and I cannot tell you why I quoted those specifically back at you, I just kind of went along as I read and then had to sit back and think, but what I want to say is that this was so well written, I need to make sure I get this part down because i want youuu to understand how utterly divine this fic is, you truly outdo yourself every single time but all of your previous works are already perfection so where does that leave us?

(it leaves ME insane but i digress)

There’s a road that leads into town, but it doesn’t lead out.

i never doubt your ability to write any character, or to write literally anything, as a matter of fact, at all. this was wonderland and the enchanted forest, it was storybrooke and it was grace, the reader and jefferson.

you r a gem, adore u nika <3

lavender's blue

summary: If there was one thing Jefferson could always rely upon, it was that you didn’t much care for sense.

pairing: jefferson x f!reader

word count: 6.4k

warnings: canon-typical angst?, reader with unspecified magical abilities, reader is alice-in-wonderland-appropriately weird y'all (affectionate); kind of open-ended but in a hopeful bc canon-compliant way <3

please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i started this as a submission for @sparkledfirecracker's cheesy writing fest challenge, but it didn't turn out very cheesy or even remotely on time. still, thank you for the wonderful prompts your wheels of fate gave me, and congrats on your follower milestone 💛

prompts used: jefferson + friends to lovers + forehead kisses

masterlist | read on ao3

What Regina couldn’t have anticipated, what no one ever could have, really, was that you had always been unpredictable. A loose end. A ticking time bomb. An unlocked door.

It was a curse in and of itself, most of the time, albeit one with a lowercase c. You’d always craved a normal life, but that didn’t mesh too well with your impulsiveness. Normalcy craved planning, devising, executing, in that order, precise decisions and arrangements that weren’t to be changed at a whim.

You were as wild as a flower in spring.

It was what Jefferson liked most about you when you first met, back when he was still jumping worlds like one of them would give him an answer. Instead, he found you, back in the Enchanted Forest you both called home, on a day that had started out like any other.

You were smack dab in the center of the meadow the hat spat him out on, and you were spinning around yourself until, he supposed, your skirts finally circled just so, and then landing on your back, laughing. Your feet were bare and dirty from stamping the ground like you were proving a point.

When he stepped closer, you propped yourself up on your elbows and blinked up at him with a grin. The sun cast his shadow in such a way that his head seemed to touch your heart. Jefferson noticed that, even then.

"Is there a reason you’re trampling on the dandelions?" he asked.

"Some people don’t deserve a wish," you simply said.

He couldn’t argue with that.

"And what about you?" he said instead.

"Well," you mused, closing your eyes, the tilt of your lips unwavering. "I think I already got my wish for the day."

"And what was that?"

There was magic brimming within you, and a lot of it. It made Jefferson’s hands shake and the hat cough out trails of smoke, even though it didn’t need to go anywhere, but you … you didn’t even seem to notice.

"Something blue," you answered.

Curiouser and curiouser, just like your smile. That was the thing that kept him distracted long enough for you to anticipate his next question, to point, still without looking, back at the hat and the purplish haze it had wrapped itself in.

"Lavender’s blue, dilly-dilly," you continued before he could voice his confusion. "I mean, I wanted flowers. But I suppose one doesn’t argue with chance, don’t you think?"

There was an almost dangerous glint in your eye when you faced him again, and that settled it.

"Why not?" he asked, and held out his hand.

You stared at it in amusement. "Are you in the habit of challenging fate, stranger?"

"Only if I know I can win," he said. "And the name’s Jefferson."

You took his hand, then, and he could never be sure if it was meant as an introduction or a leap of faith. It didn’t matter, really, when it ended up being both. When he’d pulled you to your feet, there was a small bottle in his palm, its contents glittering like liquid stardust.

He blinked.

"You can keep that if you want," you said, turning your skirt pockets out and carelessly dropping the rest of their contents on the ground. "It’s all too heavy."

Jefferson watched as you plucked a single dandelion and shook it until the wind did the wishing part for you. Then you turned without another glance at him and walked away humming, your magic patting the hat like a pet and then vanishing with you.

He’d spend weeks thinking about you simply handing him the very potion he’d intended to steal, and he still couldn’t figure out how you’d even known.

***

In this life, there are several things you know.

You know you’re a florist. You know you’re well liked, which is nice and feels new, even though you’ve lived here all your life. You know your hands can fabricate the most splendid arrangements, bouquets and wreaths in all the colors Maine has to offer, and most days, you know you’re perfectly content doing just that.

Other days, though, you know you want to see every single petal turned to ashes.

Because you also know this voice deep inside your bones, not quite your own but almost, too familiar with your habits and routines and endless, endless smalltalk. You know it keeps telling you that something is missing, something you might find again if only you set this whole damn place aflame.

So you think, what’s the harm.

And as the flames lick at your window settings and burn the roses to a crisp, you tilt your head slowly and something inside stirs, like a sleeping dragon twitching as it wakes. You realize then, that in between all the things you know, you almost missed something quite important.

Tea.

Thankfully, no else one gets hurt. The building barely even carries any damage.

When Sheriff Humbert finally lets you leave, it’s already dark outside, far too late for a neighborly visit, but you go anyway. You should have driven, but by the time you think of that, you’ve almost climbed up the hill already. The forest seems to whisper to you; you ignore it.

It’s a grand house, and you can tell it’s empty by just looking at the front of it. Not without furniture, but without a heart. You knock, knock, knock, and the sound seems to echo through the whole forest.

When the door opens, it’s with a creak that almost sounds like a yawn, and Jefferson freezes, his eyes widening as they meet yours. They’re more tired than you remember.

"I didn’t forget," you say before he can get a single word out, handing him the small parcel. The paper has worn wrinkly in your sweaty palms. "I just burned down my shop today."

If he’s surprised, or concerned, he doesn’t show it. He hovers in the doorway, his fingers carefully unwrap the delicate teacup, and there’s a wisp of a smile of his face as they trace the tiny, nonsensical little spout.

"What’s this for?" he finally asks, his voice strangely raspy.

"Don’t you remember?" you say. "It’s your unbirthday."

He lets you in, then, and your boots sink into the carpeted floor, like the ground is trying to swallow you up. The front door clicks shut.

"Tea day is Tuesdays and Thursdays," you continue on, wandering deeper into the house, making a wrong turn and taking a few steps up the stairs before suspecting—recalling—that the kitchen is to the right. You huff frustratedly. "You didn’t remind me last week!"

"Well," Jefferson calls from somewhere out of your sight. "One never knows with you."

Dark wooden cabinets. Checkerboard tiles in the kitchen. You decide you’ve broken enough rules for a day and cross them strictly diagonally until you hit a corner cabinet, pulling it open. Empty, empty. "It’s my unbirthday too, you know," you say when you hear his steps approaching again.

"What are the chances?" His voice is still hollow, in a way, as hollow as this house, and you feel like you’re missing something, but it’s so, so tiresome to think about.

"Look at that," you say, shaking the last couple of crumbs out of a crumpled up, sad-looking biscuit wrapper. "I should have come up earlier."

Jefferson sighs as he leans against the counter, watching you continue to rummage through the shelves, drawers, cupboards, trays.

It’s the saddest tea you’ve ever prepared, without a single thing to nibble on and the tea leaves trapped in silly little cotton bags, but you move opposite each other like you’re playing a game of chess, which consoles you a little.

He wins, you think, but you don’t actually know how to play.

***

Jefferson was never entirely convinced you were from the Enchanted Forest. It didn’t suit you, the dirt of this world, the whispered promises of happily ever afters and wishing upon stars so your dreams came true.

You went for the things you wanted without an ounce of remorse and without a single glance over your shoulder.

Then again, none of the other worlds he’d passed through seemed to fit you, either. Wonderland might have come closest, but you lacked its shrillness, the blunt terror in its colors and way of life. And you hated playing cards.

He wasn’t sure how you kept running into him whenever he least expected it, but you seemed to make a habit of doing just that. You seemed to enjoy pretending not to notice him staring whenever he did find you, mesmerized as if it was that first time all over again.

There was something about your presence that made any room you inhabited feel different, and the woods and sky and earth would all vibrate at a different frequency whenever you were around. It wasn’t just your magic, it was all of you.

Of course, he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed.

"See something interesting, dearie?" a voice laced with insanity asked from behind his shoulder.

Jefferson’s eyes never left you, even as he felt Rumplestiltskin’s gaze bore into his neck. You appeared to be counting the toadstools, reciting something in sing-song he couldn’t make out from where he was standing.

"Did you make a deal with her, too?" he asked, voice carefully neutral because you never knew what the Dark One would pick up on and use against you. He already had more on him than Jefferson liked.

"Oh, no. All magic comes with a price." The same phrase, a thousand times, accompanied by the same shimmer in his eyes. He didn't have to look to know it was there. "Just because you’re yet to pay yours doesn’t mean that’s true for everyone."

"So she’s mad?"

"What’s mad?" Rumplestiltskin tutted. "We’re all mad, in our own way. The most powerful most of all."

You lifted your head to look at the two of them and waved. Jefferson lowered the hat over his forehead, finally turning away.

"Then it surprises me you don’t seem to use that to your advantage," he said, crossing his arms.

The Dark One’s grin spliced his mouth with gold. "I like the result of my bidding to be as expected."

It seemed as good enough a cue to leave as any. He didn’t come very far, though, had barely taken the hat off to embark on his next journey before you caught up to him.

"Where are you going this time?"

He smiled to himself, because even with all your whimsical moods he knew you well enough by then to understand you hated being ignored. "Camelot," he answered just as the hat began swirling.

You stepped closer, bare feet crunching the fall leaves on the ground, and when he turned to meet your gaze, the curiosity in your eyes made his heart stumble over itself as he held out his hand, again.

You took it without a moment’s hesitation.

***

There’s a road that leads into town, but it doesn’t lead out. You like how this doesn’t make any sense; it almost feels normal.

Jefferson hates it, of course. It’s easy to read on his face, contempt tinting his every look and gesture an unbecoming shade of green. He hates this world and this wrong life and the fact that everything he wants is right under his nose and yet so far out of reach.

You get that, you really do. But the constant worrying and thinking just drags you down, doesn’t it? No. Ridiculous. So you decide to make a change.

Or rather, things fall into place again.

You work at the library now. People don’t like you as much, but it’s not like that thing at the flower shop was your fault, so they get over it. You love books too much to even consider setting them on fire, and there’s a lot less customer interaction involved, which minimizes the smalltalk. You’ve never liked smalltalk.

You’re perfectly content with your life.

That Friday you find Jefferson hunched over yet another map of the area, tracing the paradoxical routes that should lead onto the interstate and yet never do. Cars break down, bikes crash into trees that appear out of nowhere, and hiking somehow just leads you to walking in circles until you find yourself on main square once again.

It’s a puzzle that’s missing half its pieces, and you’d care about it more if you had any intention of leaving.

"Where do you want to go so badly, anyway?" you asked him once, when his eyes were red-rimmed with lack of sleep and that desperate determination.

"Home," he said, and the finality of that word made your insides twist.

Food and drinks are strictly forbidden in the reading hall, but you sneak him a thermos filled with coffee, anyway, the time for tea long passed.

He smiles at you tiredly as you take a seat opposite him, frowning at the pile of books you’re going to have to sort back onto the shelves past closing time. "Who are you today, then?" he asks, his voice hoarse as if he hasn’t talked all day. He hasn’t taken his scarf off, either, so maybe he’s getting sick.

You squint your eyes at him. "If you’re coming on to me, it’s not working."

Jefferson huffs, and then turns back to his maps. "Not at all."

Maybe it’s working a little, you think as you continue to watch him. After all, there’s method to this madness of his, passion to his pursuit, even though you don’t really understand it.

If he notices you staring, he shows no sign of it, and you’re not about to make him aware of it, not when you’re just starting to get to know each other. Besides, the longer you ponder the possibility of him, the stronger your head starts to pound.

You need to lock up at nine and Jefferson leaves you with another crooked grin that suggests more familiarity than there should be between the two of you. You return it with a bump of your shoulders, and then you watch him walk down the street with his hands in his pockets until he rounds a corner and you roll the shutters down.

Once again, you can’t shake the feeling that something isn’t quite right here.

Because of your migraine, you spill the leftovers of the coffee over a particularly rare collection of fairy tales later that night. The gold-edged pages bleed ink all over the maps, rendering them essentially pretty trash for the perfect townsfolk of Storybrooke. You fold them up as a gift, and then you put your keys into the letterbox for them to pick up on Monday.

***

For a while, it was the two of you on his travels through the different realms, exploring and stealing and doing the unexpected. It was your specialty, after all.

And then, just like that, for a whole while, Jefferson didn’t see you again, not until after he’d met and lost Grace’s mother. It was a particularly cold night in December when he woke to his daughter tugging at his sleeve and a strange noise from outside.

It was rhythmic, swooshing, almost like the wind but accompanied by something like a hum. When he stepped to the window, though, there was nothing outside but darkness and whirling snowflakes.

He managed to get Grace back into bed after some crackers and tea, her eyes drooping closed as she huddled up with the corner of her blanket in her mouth. Jefferson watched her drift back to sleep, and then he returned to the window, because he had this feeling that he couldn’t quite shake. Like someone was calling for him without ever saying his name.

He found you clearing the path leading up to the cottage with your bare hands, the frilly cloak around your shoulders not nearly warm enough to keep out the icy sting of winter. Your fingers were already starting to turn an unhealthy color, and a thin layer of snow sat at the crown of your head like a frozen hat.

Jefferson cursed and grabbed his coat from the bench next to the door.

"What are you doing?" he hissed when he reached you, wrapping you up within seconds. You blinked up at him. Your lashes were glittering with ice.

"It needed cleaning," you said matter-of-factly, without keeping your voice down.

Quickly, he ushered you inside and made you sit next to the fireplace. You only seemed to realize the oddness of your situation now that warmth was returning to your limbs, looking around the room in slow confusion, like you were trying to piece everything together.

Jefferson was putting the kettle back into the fire when you got up again, his coat still draped around your shoulders, and stepped closer to the bed.

"You had a daughter," you said, peering at the sleeping toddler with something almost like a frown. "She’s beautiful."

"She looks like her mother."

"Nonsense. She looks just like you."

The red on his cheeks felt almost like a betrayal, but you didn’t mean that, anyway, so it didn’t count. Still, he was stunned enough to drop his mug, and the sound of it shattering on the floor woke Grace up again. She would be three in spring, then, and she was a smart girl, but she’d stopped talking months ago, instead resorting back to the wails of a much younger child whenever she was upset, and she was hard to calm.

He couldn’t blame her.

Whenever he held her like this, he felt as helpless and alone as he did that first time when she was crying for her mother and there was no one there but him.

Except this time, Jefferson wasn’t alone. To his surprise, you stepped closer and started humming, and then singing under your breath.

To his even bigger surprise, it seemed to soothe Grace.

It was an old song, a familiar song, and you placed a calming hand on his shoulder as he cradled his daughter until she finally fell asleep again. You were still cold enough he could feel it through his shirt, but your voice carried a warmth he wasn’t used to anymore.

You took your tea in comfortable silence, and when the first rays of sunshine started creeping through the branches outside, you told him that you had to leave again. He almost asked how long it would be this time.

Instead, he led you to the door and shook his head as you tried to slip out of his coat. "The weather is supposed to turn again," he said, looking you up and down because he didn’t know when to expect you next. He never did.

"You’re different," you said, and even though you didn’t sound as disappointed as he felt at those words, they still left their mark.

"You’re not," he said, and meant it as a compliment. Somehow, when you met his eye, it didn’t seem like one anymore.

"I wouldn’t be so sure," you answered, and he had no response to that.

You kissed him, then. Sweetly, like a blushing bride would. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with himself.

It was over far more quickly than he’d have liked, and you stuffed your hands into his coat pockets.

"I’m sorry," you said, and for the first time, you wouldn’t look at him.

But Jefferson could do nothing but stare, even as you finally turned and wandered down the path again, because there you were, with your heart on your sleeve, and he’d just lost his wife, and he didn’t know up from down anymore.

***

Stepping into Jefferson’s sitting room is a little like entering a creature’s belly and sitting down next to its beating heart, pressing so close you can feel it pulsating through you.

There’s a large grandfather clock staring at you from next to the fireplace, and on the mantle there’s a small, wooden alarm, and from there, it’s six and a half steps to the cuckoo clock on the far wall that makes a little rabbit appear every fifteen minutes.

Then, it’s another twenty steps past the living room table to the clock on the even farther wall and the bookcase he stores his silver pocket watch on, in a blue box on the high shelf, next to a dusty collection of fairy tales and an old hat he used to wear on Fridays.

Or was it Sundays?

"You could just go talk to her," you tell him on a Thursday, taking another sip of tea.

Jefferson sinks back in his chair, knuckles at his temples. His chin is still held high in bottomless defiance, but his eyes are so tired. "It’s not that simple."

"It’s not that complicated, either," you shrug. "You’re her father, after all."

"Except I’m the only one to know that."

"I know," you say, and you’re not sure yourself if you mean to sound reassuring or scolding. The thought is head-achingly heavy, so you drop it and pick up a tune instead, quietly humming to yourself as you continue your circles around the room.

It’s an old melody, ghosting through your mind more often than not, a little sad and happy at the same time. You feel Jefferson’s weary gaze on the back of your head, and somehow it makes you smile.

"You remember how it’s supposed to work back at home, though, right? True love conquers all." You chuckle to yourself. The song in your head starts to buzz. "Or," you continue with a dismissive lift of your eyebrow, "are you just going to wait for that savior to appear? How long has it been, ten years?"

"Eight years, three months, two-hundred and seventeen days."

Huh. You could have sworn you’ve been here much longer.

"Then there’s still nineteen years and …" You think for a moment, then shake your head. "You know what, I’m not going to get that right if I tried, and I don’t want to, so let’s just say a while."

He almost laughs at that, a soft, pained look in his eye that you’re not supposed to find charming.

"You’re going to go insane in that time," you say softly. "I would."

"I know." It’s already starting to tug at the tilt of his smile and the twitch in his eye. He hasn’t quite learned to stop caring, yet, and of course he hasn’t. That wouldn’t be like him.

He’s always been your mirror, so why would this be any different?

Things stay they same, and they stay the same, and they stay the same, and you’re sick of it. Apparently, there’s a thing such as too normal a life, and it makes your skin crawl.

So you start tailoring again. Your evenings are long and there’s just a few people that come in regularly, that ask for golden thread to fix their buttons and flaxen yarn to hem their suits. It’s quiet. Terribly quiet. Too quiet.

There’s not a single clock in your shop, and you realize you miss the ticking as soon as you crawl out of the belly of the beast. So you keep returning.

"We used to share a bed," you recall, lifting your arm so Jefferson can reach for the thread you’re holding out as you both sit on the floor, your tools and fabrics spread out over the entire room. You love watching him work, even though you don’t quite understand why he’s so obsessed with making hats. Maybe you just forgot.

"We did", he answers, not even looking at you. It makes you roll your eyes.

"So why don’t we now?"

"That would be rather complicated." His stitching is impeccable.

"Why?" Something throbs between your temples.

"Several reasons, dear." He tilts his head. "Aren’t you late?"

The unpleasant feeling in your chest disappears when you look at the clock. "Shit."

You hastily gather your things and start running to make it back to your shop in time, barely remembering to catch your breath enough to say goodbye, and so you miss the look on his face as he watches you, staying behind in the big house in the middle of the woods.

***

You visited more often, now that you knew about Grace, but Jefferson didn’t know if that was for her sake or for his. One thing that was very clear, however, was that you didn’t care at all about the dirty looks you got from everyone else whenever you strayed off the path to wander towards his cottage, unchaperoned.

Sure, they pitied him, but he was grieving, they said, and you were young and beautiful.

"They’re all so terribly starved for entertainment," you sighed, and then you handed him another pretty pebble you’d found on your way. He put it into the bowl on the window sill.

Grace was getting old enough to get used to you, then, to recognize the hands that tickled her chin and sometimes pulled her up when she fell on the forest ground. She loved your surprises, and your stories were her favorites to listen to when it was bedtime, even though she usually fell asleep long before you stopped talking.

"Did I ever tell you," you continued when the embers were barely glowing anymore but your eyes were shining in the moonlight, "about those pirates that I ran into near—"

"Why did you stay away so long?"

You blinked, and so did he. He hadn’t expected himself to actually ask, not after all this time that you had been back in his life. But the question was out now, sitting between you on the broken floorboards of his broken life, and the night stretched your silence into infinity.

"I wrote you letters," you told him, and it was true, but it wasn’t an answer. So he kept looking at you, and the silence scraped its nails against your skin. "I don’t know," you finally said in a way that told Jefferson you did know and didn’t want to tell him. There was a flustered hum to you that almost made him want to take it back, but the magic that followed each and every of your whims didn’t retreat. Not even a little.

"I was falling in love with you." He’d never admitted it out loud before. Who would he have told?

You laughed nervously, looking over at Grace. "Not very much, clearly."

"You never gave me the chance to do it properly."

"You don’t want me. I could never be a mother." Still, you talked quietly enough not to wake her, and you brought her trinkets and playthings whenever you’d been away for a while. You never brought him anything, but he still felt like he was getting a rare gift every time. It must’ve counted for something.

Besides, this was the first time you’d attempted to reason with him.

"I didn’t have her then," he said anyway, as if that was an argument.

"But you were always going to."

"And what about you and me?"

You bit your lip. "I’m inconvenient."

"I know," he said.

"You can’t rely on me."

"I know," he said.

"You deserve better than me."

Jefferson shook his head, and for the first time since he met you, you looked unsure. So, for the first time since he met you, he was the one doing the incalculable.

He kissed you.

You pulled him closer immediately, all logic forgotten as you crashed into each other, finally on the same page of this twisted story. You kissed him like you wanted him to be the happy ending to your storybook, even though you weren’t cut out for that kind of tale.

You both tried to be, anyway.

***

You’ve run the teashop now for … you’re not quite sure. Forever, maybe. It sure feels like your whole life has been spent between boxes of fragrant leaves, with a kettle always shrieking somewhere in the house and you humming whatever tune it sings to you.

But your hands are dirty, and no matter how much you brush your nails under scalding water, there always seems to be grime underneath them. Like you’re repotting plants in your sleep. Or clawing at the ground.

Your life is filled with sound, with constant chatter and gossip, because your front door is barely a five minute walk from Storybrooke secondary and the schoolgirls have developed an obsession with the shortbread and ginger muffins you serve with their tea. They reward you with whatever pocket money they can find at the bottom of their school bags and any gossip about their teachers they’ve eavesdropped on that week.

You constantly have a headache, but it’s fun, in a way. And you get to see Grace.

Your hand stops midair as you reach out for the lavender tea the girl ordered, staring unfocused until she clears her throat expectantly.

“Sorry,” you say, still dazed, “lost my train of thought there.”

The girl—Paige, you remember now, you heard her friend say her name when they entered the shop, Come on, Paige, and something about it made your stomach turn—tips her head to the side in a way that’s familiar, even though you don’t know why. “Can I have that to go?“ she adds, a quick look over her shoulder to where her friends are giggling.

“Sure.”

You only serve tea in loose leaves, because you believe trapping your window to the future in a small bag doesn’t do anyone any good, even though most of your customers don’t know how to tip their residue into their saucers in the proper way. You do it for them, sometimes, if they leave enough cold tea in their cups for you to do it after the door has clicked shut behind them. You knew about the mayor’s adoption papers going through before she knew about it herself, and you’d felt pretty smug about that.

The perfect amount of time to steep lavender tea is five minutes and forty-six seconds, and because you can’t trust a child to particularly care for such precision, you keep the steaming paper cup behind the counter until your timer goes off. You stir a dollop of honey in, humming to yourself, before you hand Paige the cup. She doesn’t really look at you, already distracted by another snippet of conversation, but she still flashes you a quick smile before hurrying to catch up with the others. The bell above the door jingles again, and the man stepping inside holds the door open for the girls to file outside, chattering excitedly. His other hand is balled up into a fist so tight it makes his knuckles stand out white.

He takes a deep breath before he turns and regards you. “You’re in a good mood.”

“I suppose so,” you say, even though it interrupts your humming. “Can I get you anything?”

His smile is small, but beautiful. “I think you already are.”

It’s then you notice you’ve pulled out one of the mugs from your good set without even asking, heaping two and a half spoonsful of your favorite blend inside like it’s the most natural thing for you to do upon his entrance.

Before you can apologize, he turns the sign in your window to 'closed' and sits down at the counter with a patient look, eyes very intense as they search yours, his face unreadable. None of it feels threatening, just … expectant.

So you continue with your instinctual movements, even though you’re not sure how you know what he’s waiting for. You feel like there’s something you’re missing, and it doesn’t come to you until you hand him his mug.

The mask falls when he says your name, your real name, and your lips twist into a smile that’s so unsure of itself it almost curls inwards.

You remember, you remember.

Every single lifetime falls back into place until the one that came first stays at the forefront. You cling to the thought like someone fights with a dream to be allowed to stay a little longer, battling oblivion with the resolution of a dragon slayer.

"How long was I gone this time?" you ask, hands clasping the counter more tightly and blinking fast as if that could keep the forgetting away.

"Hard to say," Jefferson answers. "A few weeks. You’re getting better."

You know he’s lying, because in the beginning, it would only take you a couple of days to remember. Now, your moments of clarity seem to be farther apart every time. "Was she nice?"

If you were going to remember any of this in a while, you’d really miss being the girl from the tea shop. You’ve been enjoying this version of things, the simplicity and the small dosages of variety, like little treats in this viscous monotony.

He shrugs with one shoulder. "She’s you."

"So, no."

His smile always seems sad these days. "So, nice in the ways that matter. You always are."

Somehow, you doubt that. "What day is it?" you ask.

"Seventeen years, six months, forty-five days."

You don’t ask him if there’s been any progress; you know there hasn’t been. Instead, you round the counter and put your arms around him. You feel him sag against you, his sigh of relief barely audible against your shoulder. You can’t help but wonder how long it’s been since Jefferson’s touched another person.

He pulls you close enough for you to feel his heartbeat in your own chest, and you barely breathe as you tighten the embrace even more, trying to hold both of you upright.

"Your hair’s getting longer again," you mumble after a very long time, dragging your thumb against the back of his neck.

"Don’t lie," he answers hoarsely, lifting his head without opening his eyes, your noses bumping before he rests his forehead against yours. "I miss you."

It breaks your heart, how easily it slips out.

Your lips seek his carefully, then more confident, because you don’t know how else to express your own feelings. This kiss, like all the ones before, is a promise you both know you won’t be able to keep.

Hope still tastes bitter on his tongue.

***

He’d always hated Wonderland, but he’d never hated it more than when he got stuck there and felt his sanity slip through his fingers a little bit more every day. Time didn’t make sense here, nothing did.

But if there was one thing that he could always rely upon, it was that you didn’t much care for sense.

"There you are." A voice as familiar as an old song woke him up from another nightmare. "What on earth are you doing in this hole?"

Jefferson opened his eyes. You were like a vision, not even paying attention to the disbelief in his eyes as you dusted off one of the useless hats.

"How," he croaked.

You chuckled a little and continued to look around the room. His cell. His locked cell with guards posted outside.

He sat up so quickly his vision went black for a moment. "How are you here?"

"You were gone so long," you said. "I was bored."

"You—" He held your cheek, your waist, your shoulder. You felt cool to the touch, but solid, real. Eyes innocent and glittering with your usual mischief, as if this was completely normal. "Have you seen Grace? Is she alright?"

"She misses you, too."

He didn’t even pay attention to it, then, but he remembered that little "too" at the end later, many, many times.

"Can you get me home?"

Your smile was soft and sad and sliced him in two all over again. You gently tugged at the bow around his neck, and then you simply said, "No."

So he raged. He bargained. He begged.

But you could not, would not budge, even though your eyes grew heavy as you listened to him. Like this was a disappointing development for you.

He already knew he was nothing more.

He stared at you when he was done, chest heaving, still on his knees in front of you even though he could no longer meet your eye. You didn’t say anything.

"Are you angry with me?"

"No," you said again. You brushed your hands through his hair and slowly sank down to his level.

It was only then that he realized tears were falling from his eyes. Gently, you wiped them off his cheeks, and then, holding his face in your hands, you pressed a kiss to his forehead before touching your own to the same spot.

"Grace sends this," you whispered.

Jefferson closed his eyes, heart twisting with that unspeakable ache.

"There’s something you need to know," you said, your voice already carrying the weight of it. As if all of this hadn’t been enough. "Something bad is coming."

"Isn’t it always?" he asked, but then he felt your magic flicker in a way it never had before. Like it was nervous.

And then lightning struck outside.

When he looked at your face, your eyes were rolled back and your magic was lashing out in all directions, clashing against the walls in terror. "There’s danger if I dare to stop and here’s a reason why," you sing-songed, unfocused, and Jefferson caught your hands before you clawed at your own face. "I’m over-due, no no no no, goodbye, hello." You hiccuped.

Dread washed through him in an icy shockwave. He’d seen you in a state of confusion before, many times, but this was different, not just overwhelmed but panicked. Your magic was literally spilling out of you now, like it was trying to escape whatever fate you’d seen coming, and you would’ve doubled over with it had he not held you upright.

"Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run run." You giggled. "Did you know I’m a bunny in a book?"

"Sweetheart, you need to focus."

The next thunder rolled outside and you screamed, but it seemed to knock some sense back into you because your eyes weren’t quite so glassy anymore when you looked at him again. "Oh, this next part won’t be fun."

Something knocked at the door and then it burst open, dark purple whirls of magic filling the room within seconds, accompanied by roaring winds and a thumping sound that reminded him of a beating heart. Your hands came up to cup Jefferson’s face and you gave him the saddest, most knowing smile he’d ever seen on you.

The wind almost swallowed your voice, but whatever magic hadn’t left you yet let him hear your words anyway.

"Some people really don’t deserve a wish."

Then, everything went black.

thank you for reading!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications!! you can also buy me a ko-fi if you feel so inclined <3

[lovelyjuju]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐲𝐣𝐮𝐣𝐮’𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝖻𝗒𝗎𝗇 𝖾𝗎𝗂𝗃𝗈𝗈

instagram stories with bf!euijoo

starstruck

starstruck part 2

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝗆𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖺 𝖿𝗎𝗆𝖺

instagram stories with bf!fuma

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝗄𝗈𝗀𝖺 𝗒𝗎𝖽𝖺𝗂

instagram stories with bf!k

cuteness aggression

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗂𝗑𝗂𝖺𝗇𝗀

instagram stories with bf!nicholas

that's why

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝗇𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗄𝗂𝗍𝖺 𝗒𝗎𝗆𝖺

instagram stories with bf!yuma

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝖺𝗌𝖺𝗄𝗎𝗋𝖺 𝗃𝗈

instagram stories with bf!jo

perfect day

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗀𝖾𝗍𝖺 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝗎𝖺

instagram stories with bf!harua

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖺𝗒𝖺𝗆𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗄𝗂

instagram stories with bf!taki

way home

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅𝗁𝗂𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖺 𝗋𝗂𝗄𝗂

instagram stories with bf!maki

𐙚 ‧₊˚ ⋅ ot9 drabbles

first kiss

[aquaticlime]

70 Things to do in your Criminal Minds DR

Suggested by @mathisshiftss

I really tried to come up with some fun things, its hard when the world isn't fantastical. Technically there is 51 ideas and the rest are ideas for party's to throw with the team.

First things first

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤

𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐧

𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞

Relationships

5. 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬 1 𝐨𝐧 1 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤

6. 𝐁𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐫 𝐇𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬. 𝐁𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬.

7. 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐲 ;)

8. 𝐉𝐨𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐚

9. 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐧

10. 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲

11. 𝐑𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬

12. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨 𝐨𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐠

13. 𝐒𝐢𝐠𝐧 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢’𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 (𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞)

14. 𝐓𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐮𝐩 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐜𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐆𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐚

15. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐉𝐂𝐏𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦

16. 𝐀𝐬𝐤 𝐃𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐭

17. 𝐑𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫’𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟 (𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞)

18. 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ��𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡

19. 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐀𝐔 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦

20. 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐞𝐭

Other

21. 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐨𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠

22. 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢

23. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦

24. 𝐏𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 (𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫)

25. 𝐁𝐮𝐲 𝐚 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 (𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐄𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐚𝐭)

26. 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐬

27. 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨 (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐛 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞)

28. 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧/ 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐭

29. 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐉𝐉𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬

30. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐦 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐝 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫

31. 𝐈𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐟 𝐠𝐮𝐧 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞

32. 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝

33. 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐧’𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐀𝐔 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐬

34. 𝐒𝐞𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬

35. 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐢𝐭

36. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜

37. 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦

38. 𝐕𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐥 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

39. 𝐁𝐮𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧. (𝐉𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮)

40. 𝐏𝐚𝐯𝐥𝐨𝐯 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞

41. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐅𝐁𝐈 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬

42. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤𝐬 (𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐬)

43. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐀𝐔

45. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐒𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫.

46. 𝐖𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬

47. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐚𝐧 "𝐢𝐟 𝐈 𝐠𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞"

48. 𝐍𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢'𝐬 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 (𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝)

49. 𝐌𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐦

50. 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞

House party ideas

51. 𝐋𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐬

52. 𝐌𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲

53. 𝐂𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧��

54. 𝐃𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

55. 𝐂𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐞 (𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐞𝐭𝐜.)

56. 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

57. 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

58. 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐭

59. 𝐒𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠

60. 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠

61. 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐥 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠

62. 𝐁𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞

63. 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞

64. 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐨 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

65. 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞

66. 𝐌𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲

67. 𝐏𝐚𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐚

68. 𝐌𝐨𝐛 𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞 (𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐟 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠)

69. 𝐖𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐬𝐭

70. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲'𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲

˗ˏˋReturn to masterlist´ˎ˗

[berryyuni]

... 𝐧𝐜𝐭 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟

key: (f) - fluff (a) - angst (c) - crack (hc) - headcanons (sm) - social media (⭑) - personal favorite

the taglist is open ! if you would like to join, click here

𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗌

nothing published yet...

𝗈𝗍𝟩 (𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌)

nct dream would be the type of boyfriends that would... (f, hc) here

how many likes...? (f, c, sm) here

when you haven't left your room in awhile (f, c, sm) here

마크 | 𝗅. 𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄

texts bf!mark sends you when he's away (f, sm) here

my spider-man ... drabble (f) here ⭑

黄仁俊 | 𝗁. 𝗋𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗎𝗇

nothing published yet...

이제노 | 𝗅. 𝗃𝖾𝗇𝗈

nothing published yet...

이동혁 | 𝗅. 𝖽𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗒𝗎𝖼𝗄

you always save me ... drabble (a,f) here

in your arms ... drabble (f) here ⭑

나재민 | 𝗇. 𝗃𝖺𝖾𝗆𝗂𝗇

taste of love ... one-shot (f) here

钟辰乐 | 𝗓. 𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗇𝗅𝖾

nothing published yet...

박지성 | 𝗉. 𝗃𝗂𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗀

bsf!jisung texts (a, f, sm) here

©berryyuni 2024. all work is written by me. do not copy, translate or repost

[lavendercitizen]

i probably just read this four times and i still am not over that first fucking line, the words eddie's forehead and against your cheek in one sentence activated something visceral in me.. not to quote you rn but morgue, immediately!!! i also genuinely need to know what kind of thought process you went through to come up with "Mustering as much excitement as he can in his current state, he gasps loudly." ???????

why would you everrrr make me imagine him scrambling to get a look at the first snowfall like the sweet baby he is :-) i am so seriously unwell rn

“We gotta play in the snow.” Eddie rasps, glancing at you with a smile. 

consider the damage this has done to me. thank you

[...] he reaches for the ashtray balanced on top of a nearby guitar amp. 

On your way up, you snatch a hoodie that has been left draped over the neck of Eddie’s acoustic guitar.

something about this...idk idk but i'm injecting this straight into my veins .

It isn’t lost on you the way he sounds just like a petulant little boy, pleading any which way he can to get what he wants. He closes in on you, enveloping you in his puffy arms and burying you against his bundled-up body as he squeezes you tight. When he begins to whisper ‘please, please, please’ into your hair [...]

MICKY????SILENCEEEE BE QU IET IM SO SERIOUS RIGHT NOW WHY WOULD YOU WRITE THIS HE'S SO BABY AND ANGEL AND

i need to meditate on this.

it should actually be illegal to not get to have my own personal eddie munson to dote on while he's sick and i will, in fact, be thinking about it all day now :( he's literally such a whiny little baby and i need to gnaw on him forever and ever

A Hazy Shade Of Winter

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: It’s the first notable snowfall of the year in Hawkins and there is absolutely nothing that will stop Eddie from making the most of it.

Word Count: 2.9k+

Warnings: Mentions of sickness.

Keep reading

[oldfarmhouse]

𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐲, 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐧, 𝐚 𝐲𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐝𝐨𝐠, 𝐚 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐭🧴𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐪𝐮𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐬𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡.

~ 𝙹𝚘𝚑𝚗𝚊𝚝𝚑𝚊𝚗 𝙴𝚍𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚍 𝙳𝚞𝚛𝚑𝚊𝚖 (v⃖i⃖a⃖ o⃖l⃖d⃖f⃖a⃖r⃖m⃖h⃖o⃖u⃖s⃖e⃖)

[renaflix]

✎ ｉｎｔｒｏｄｕｃｔｉｏｎ

⋆ name ; rena

⋆ prns ; she/her

⋆ new writer !!

⋆ enha ot7 blog

⋆ jungwon focused

⋆ sfw acc

⋆ current ;

⋆ latest ;

⋆ reqs/asks are open!!

𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟

[readergf]

this is so cute and 100% something he would do!!

Reader sending a picture of her not very balanced very snacky but yummy meal captioned “girl dinner!!” while Spencer is away on a case and it just turns into Spencer calling her in front of everyone to kindly lecture on how that isn’t an actual meal and how she needs to eat something real/he’ll order something for her LMAO

You're not expecting the immediate call from Spencer after you send him a picture of your meal, but you pick it up anyways with the crunch of a pretzel stick.

"Spence?" You speak through your mouthful, long-since over the illusion of perfection around him.

"Angel," He greets you, worry lacing his sweeet voice, "Is that really your dinner?"

"Yeah," You laugh, looking down at the collection of pretzel sticks and cheesy popcorn that adorn the plate around your bowl of macaroni and cheese, "I don't feel like anything else."

"Sweetheart," He hums, "That's not a very nourishing meal. You're probably going to feel gross afterwards, it's going to make you tired and you're not going to feel very energized tomorrow."

"Spence, I know," You chuckle, adjusting the phone against your ear, "It's girl dinner. It's supposed to be unhealthy and mismatched."

"Girl dinner," He grumbles, his brows probably furrowed adorably. "What-?"

In the background you hear assorted giggles, Prentiss's the most recognizable. You assume that others are JJ and Garcia, and you hope they're enjoying themselves.

"It's a meme," You explain, "An internet joke, Spencer. I'm in the mood for junk food, so instead of forcing myself to eat healthy all the time, sometimes you just have to give in and eat like shit for a night. Girl dinner."

"If you paired it with a vegetable, you'd at least be getting some nutrients," Spencer tries, but you cut him off while you stir your macaroni.

"No vegetables. This is girl dinner. I'm okay, Spence, I'll eat something really good for breakfast tomorrow."

"Okay," He's hesitant to agree, "But- but honey, if you're having trouble preparing yourself food, I can order in for you, okay? Just tell me what you want and I'll wake up early to have it sent over."

"Spencer!" You giggle, eager to get to your less-than-balanced meal, "Okay. This is just a one-time joke, okay? I thought it would be funny to send you. You don't have to worry."

"I worry about you all the time," He confesses, and you know it's meant to be flattering instead of insulting, "I'll have fresh fruit delivered for you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay, Spencer." You finally concede, "Okay. I love you."

"I love you too," Now you hear the relaxed smile in his voice, "Enjoy your- uh, girl dinner."

[ladysirenity23]

𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥'𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟||ᴸᵃᵈʸˢⁱʳᵉⁿⁱᵗʸ²³

Social media

Reddit

u/LadySirenity23

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Discord

HanaBoukiShiro#3888

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Instagram

Sirenity_Chan23

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ko-fi

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Or

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639959075999

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Wattpad

23_chan

[lavendercitizen]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐌

These are the most common tags I use to organize this blog a bit ! If you don't want to see some of my posts for any reason I urge you to filter those tags.

rae.txt 𝐫𝐚𝐞'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 ✆ ┊ 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧 ִ ꒰ 💌 ꒱ ݊

ㅤ ㅤarchive ໒ ִ ࣪ ⭒| txtposts ⎧ 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟 ⟡ ࣪

q — i'm not here rb♡ | reblogs & fic commentary ! ⩄ tbr

ㅤㅤ𝐰. | words/excerpts 𝐩. | poetry ☛ 𝐫.𝐬' 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬

nsft. ♡ [𖥻] — movies/shows/art/games ִֶָ icymi 𓏲࣪

ㅤㅤ♡ | scroll through this tag if u need a pick me up :)

[chobby88]

𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟓: 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 𝐌𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 💜 #𝐟𝐦𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐝 #𝐟𝐦𝐬_𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬 #𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐁𝐞𝐬𝐭 #𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐟 #𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐞 #𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐬 #𝐛𝐢𝐠𝐁𝐢𝐬𝐡 #𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆 #𝐘𝐀𝐒𝐪𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 #𝐠𝐚𝐲 #𝐆𝐀𝐘𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐧 #𝐮𝐡𝐇𝐮𝐡 #𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐏𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐 (at Roswell, New Mexico) https://www.instagram.com/p/CawQKwCOwQ3/?utm_medium=tumblr

[readergf]

this was so cute and so adorable!!

Enchanted by you | E.M.

Warnings: hurt/comfort, slight angst, mostly fluff, mentions of reader being cheated on by her ex boyfriend, Eddie taking care of reader, happy ending

Pairing: Eddie Munson x female reader

Summary: Eddie finds you sitting on bench with tears rolling down your cheeks after your breakup with your boyfriend. He takes matters into his hands and takes care of you, making it one of the best nights of your life.

Word count: 3.4k+

-

It was a chilly summer night when you had talked to Eddie Munson for the first time. You had known him since middle school but between shy glances and small smiles, you have never really interacted with each other– not because you didn’t want to but because you were, well, too shy. You always wished that he would approach you but he never did, not until now. 

You were sitting on some random park bench with tears rolling down your cheeks, hugging your waist tightly as you looked off into the distance. Your boyfriend had been avoiding you for weeks. You haven’t put much thought into why he was doing it, you thought that he was just busy with work but you didn’t expect him to be cheating on you– that he had been cheating on you for a long time now. You caught him when you came home earlier than you were supposed to, he was sleeping in bed with another girl in his arms, in the apartment you were supposed to move in with him now that you were finally back in Hawkins again. You broke up with him the same day. 

You were heartbroken, shocked and confused. You loved him, he was your first love, your first boyfriend, your first everything– the one you planned a future with. You thought that you were happy together, that he was happy with you but obviously he wasn’t, he had already found someone better, someone he didn’t even bother hiding after you had broken up with him. 

Tonight, you were supposed to have a girls night with Nancy but instead she and Robin had the brilliant idea to drag you to Tina’s party who was back in town as well after her trip to europe. After getting drunk on beer, you walked up the stairs, searching for a bathroom, instead you walked in on your now ex-boyfriend, undressing his new girl. You were caught off guard at first, you even apologized for disturbing the pair before you realized who you walked in on.

Eddie had seen you storming out of the house with an angry look on your face and tears rolling down your cheeks. He followed you out. When you took a seat on the bench, he gave you a moment to yourself before he decided to walk over to you. You didn’t see him coming, you were too busy crying and trying to calm your shakiness. 

He looked around, taking a nervous breath before he stepped closer to you. 

“Hey, uh– are you okay?” 

Startled, you flinched at the sound of his voice, you looked up at him with wide eyes. A flustered expression took over your face and you quickly turned away to wipe your tears, “h-hi, yeah, I’m okay.”

You lied. He knew you did. He sighed as he sat down beside you, he took off his jacket when he noticed how much you were shivering. 

“Here, you are shaking like a leaf.” 

After doing your best to wipe away the streaks of mascara on your cheeks, you sniffled and looked back up at him. 

Your eyes were glassy and a little puffy, your lips were set in a frown, you looked miserable and yet, you were still the most beautiful girl to him, just like you always were. 

“No, you’re gonna be cold, Eddie.” 

His heart fluttered and his eyes widened in surprise, he gaped at you. He wasn’t even sure if you would remember him in the first place, you both graduated four years ago and even then, you never really talked to each other, he wouldn’t have been surprised if you wouldn’t even remember or know his name, at all. 

He shook his head, “I got a long sleeve on, it’s fine, please put it on,” he whispered and held his jacket out for you. 

Eddie was practically a stranger, yet he was kinder than your boyfriend ever was. You don’t remember if he actually ever gave you his jacket. You pushed your arms through the sleeves and wrapped the jacket around you, embracing the warmth, “thank you,” you whispered. 

He smiled at you and at the way you looked in his leather jacket. For a moment, neither of you spoke, you looked down, avoiding his eyes. If it were anyone else beside you, you would have probably jumped up and left but for some reason, he gave you an odd sense of comfort, one that felt familiar. 

“So, you remember me?” He asked in curiosity after a few minutes of comfortable silence, pushing the sleeves of his shirt up. 

Your eyes locked with his and your brows furrowed a little as your lips curled into a slight smile, “of course I remember you, you always held doors open for me and you always waved at me in the parking lot.” 

He squinted his eyes and tilted his eyes as he began to smile, “you remember that?” 

“Yeah,” you breathed. It was the highlight of your day, getting a smile and a cute little wave from Eddie Munson. 

“Huh,” he mumbled and leaned back, staring at you, he noticed how much you have changed. Your hair has grown longer, your style has changed, you were still wearing your beloved dresses and skirts but it seemed as though you had found a new color palette, your clothes were darker now but it suited you. You have grown since your teenage years, you were always a sight for sore eyes but now you were just something else. 

You have been away for a while, gone for college. He always looked out for you when he knew that Nancy was in town during breaks knowing that you were most likely here as well but he only ever saw you briefly, much to his dismay. Eddie had the biggest crush on you since middle school, one that somehow never left no matter how much time has passed. When he heard that you graduated college and were coming back to Hawkins, he couldn’t help but feel excited, only to feel disappointment rushing through him when he found out that you were still dating the same jock you have been with since high school. 

He always hated him. 

He hated the way he showed you off, the way he treated you like you were nothing but arm candy, the way he got to hold your hand, the way he got to have a piece of your heart. He hated that he had you. 

“You’ve changed.” 

Your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, raising his brows, he looked back into your eyes to find you staring at him. 

“Me?” Eddie asked as he felt himself blushing. 

You nodded, your eyes skipped over his face before they moved down to his neck, his shoulders that got much broader, his left arm adorned with more tattoos. 

“You have more tattoos!” You exclaimed, trying to hide the fact that you were checking him out. 

He chuckled a little, “yeah, got them done last year.” 

“I love that one,” you said, pointing to the dragon. 

“You do?” He asked, smiling as he watched you staring at his tattoos. You scooted closer to him to see them better. His heart fluttered in his chest when he smelled your sweet perfume. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, “I always wanted one too– a tattoo I mean but I never knew what I wanted a-and Josh never liked tattoos on women,” you frowned after mentioning your boyfriend again. 

Eddie rolled his eyes internally, he just added another reason to the list of why he should hate that man. 

“Well, Josh shouldn’t have to say in what you do to your body, sweetheart.” 

You placed your hands on your lap and looked back up at him, “no?” 

“No.”

“But he was my boyfriend.” 

Was. 

He blinked, straightening up, he could already feel the joy rushing through him, “it’s still your body, you do whatever you want with it because it’s yours! You can go get tattoos– as many as you want! You can change your hair however you want, you can change your clothes, your whole life, you gotta do whatever you wanna do!” 

A giggle fell from your lips, your eyes lit up as did his when he heard your cute laughter. 

“You’ll still be the most metal girl out there!” 

“Most metal?” You giggled again, blushing at his words. 

“Hell yeah!” He grinned, “I always thought you were the coolest girl– still are, by the way.” 

“Thanks,” you whispered, you played with your fingers nervously, “I always thought the same thing about you.”

His eyes widened again, his heart jumped in his chest and he stared at you for a moment. The girl he crushed on for years, even after not seeing her for years, felt the same way about him?

“Even when people called me a freak and whatnot?” 

You frowned at his words and rolled your eyes, “they were assholes, you were never a freak– but hey, my friend, Jonathan. He always said ‘being a freak is the best’. All the other people are normal and boring, you aren’t, you’re cool, the best.” 

Eddie was a little taken aback by your words, why did he take so long to talk to you? His gaze softened the longer he looked at you, your eyes were still glassy– what did he do to you?

“You’re a freak too then ‘cause you’re kinda the best too you know?” He smiled, “I remember when you dumped spaghetti over Jason’s head after he had said something mean to Henderson.” 

You cupped your mouth as you laughed, “that was an impulsive decision,” you said. 

He threw his head back in laughter, “that was the best decision!”

“I did it for you as well!” You blurted. 

“What?”

Your cheeks heated up, “I-I did it for you. He said something mean about you.” 

Eddie wasn’t sure what he was feeling, it was a mix of joy and comfort– you defended him? 

“Really?” He asked as he calmed from his laughter, putting his arm on the back of the bench, he subtly scooted closer, “you did it for me?” 

You nodded. 

A soft smile appeared on his face, his heart fluttered for the millionth time tonight. 

“See, you’re the best,” he whispered as he raised his hand towards your face, brushing away a single strand of hair behind your ear. He smiled to himself when you blushed. Cute. 

“Who made you cry, pretty girl?”

The nickname made your stomach flutter. It was so new, yet it felt so familiar. 

“I broke up with Josh,” you mumbled as your eyes welled up with tears again, “h-he cheated on me a-and now he’s with her, like we weren’t together for years.” 

Eddie frowned at your words, sadness rushed through him for you and anger for him. How could he have you and choose someone else? How could he have the best thing and throw it away just like that? 

“I saw him with her and it’s like, I never even mattered to him.” 

Tears rolled down your cheeks and it made his heart hurt to see you like this. He wanted to go back inside the house, find him and punch him for breaking your heart but instead, he opened his arms for you to which you instantly let yourself fall into his embrace. Eddie hugged you tightly and rubbed your back softly. 

You sniffled quietly and wrapped your arms around his waist. 

“He’s the biggest idiot, sweetheart,” he whispered as he laid his cheek on the top of your head, “I can imagine how much it hurts you but you were way too good for him, he never even deserved you in the first place. He’s one of those boring assholes who take everything and everyone for granted. I always wondered what you were doing with someone like him.” 

He heard your sniffles and it just made him want to punch him even more. 

“He is gonna come crawling back and I’ll gladly kick his ass for you, sweetheart.” 

“I’m gonna kick his ass too.” 

“Yeah?” He smiled, “we can kick his ass together, how dare he hurt the most amazing girl?” 

You pulled back a little, only far enough so you can see his face again. A gasp made it’s way up your throat when you realized just how close you were. His eyes were shining, flickering with something as he stared down at you. 

“I’m not the most amazing girl.” 

He frowned, “yes you are,” he whispered, “I think we should discuss that over a few milkshakes.” 

Your eyes lit up and despite the tears in your eyes, you smiled, “really?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, letting go of you, he already missed your body against his but he offered you his hand as he got up, “come on.” 

You wiped your tears and stared into his eyes before you finally placed your hand in his. 

“Let’s go, princess.” 

“Let’s go,” you repeated after him, giggling. 

Instead of spending the night at the diner, you and Eddie ended up driving up to the lookout, sitting in the back of his van, you were still wearing his jacket as you drank your strawberry milkshake and talked to him like it wasn’t the first time. Hours have passed and the night seemed nowhere near the end, you could sit here with him forever. 

“I didn’t think you’d still be here.” 

“Where’d you think I’d be?”

You shrugged, “thought you’d live your dream in Los Angeles, I always thought you would actually become a rockstar.” 

Eddie’s eyes lit up and a grin formed on his face, “I’m flattered you think I’m good enough to be a rockstar.” 

“You have an amazing voice and you're basically a guitar god with the way you move your fingers!”

Eddie couldn’t even help but smirk at your words, especially after seeing the flustered look on your face and the panicked look in your eyes. 

“I-I mean, you move them so quickly– stop looking at me like that!” 

He chuckled and ducked out of the way when you threw a fry at him, “where’s your mind at, sweetheart?” 

You blushed even deeper, “where’s your mind at?” 

“Not where yours is!” He chuckled, “but hey, thank you, I’m flattered, really.” 

“You’re welcome, Eddie,” you smiled. “What happened to the band?” 

“Oh, we’re still playing every Tuesday!” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah! You should come watch us play.” 

“I will,” you smiled as you watched the way his eyes lit up. 

“Cool,” he whispered, nodding to himself as his eyes flickered with joy, “I-I’m not a rockstar but I still work with music so that’s nice.” 

“At the record store, right?” 

He leaned forward, he looked at you curiously, “yeah, how’d you know?” 

“Robin told me.” 

“Oh, you talk about me, huh?” He asked, wiggling his brows. 

Yes. 

“Maybe,” you shrugged, fighting off the smile as you looked down, “I should come by sometime, I heard that the manager is really hot.” 

He frowned at first, tilting his head as he stared at you in question, his curls fell to the side. He looked so cute. 

“But I’m the manager–” he cut himself off, his eyes widened and before he could play it cool or smirk at you, his cheeks turned bright red. Too cute. “Oh!”

You were flirting with him. His heart skipped a beat and his stomach fluttered with butterflies. 

“Y-You think I’m hot?” He smirked.

Ridiculously hot. Here he was with his beautiful brown eyes and his pretty curls, rings on his fingers, tattoos littering his pale skin, the prettiest voice you had ever heard and a cologne that made you dizzy– he looked like a bad boy but he was the sweetest guy you had ever been in the presence of. 

“I always thought you were hot,” you admitted shyly.

He placed the takeaway cup down and scooted closer to you, “why do I just find out now?” 

You bit your lip and shrugged, “I-I didn’t think that you– I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” you stuttered. 

Eddie’s eyes softened, even in the darkness, he could see the uncertainty in your eyes, the shy look on your face. He reached for your hand and you gladly placed it in his. He smiled and laced your fingers together, squeezing your hand. 

“Sweetheart, you could never make me uncomfortable,” he whispered, “I know this might not be the right time to say this but, I was always fucking crazy about you, you could have dumped those spaghetti on me instead of Carver and I’d still have a big crush on you.” 

Your eyes widened in surprise and a giggle tore from your lips, “I would never do this to you!” 

He laughed, tugging you closer to him, “I know you wouldn’t, sweet girl. I’m just saying, I-I wish I had the courage to do something about my feelings back then but I was scared, w-we didn’t really talk and you knew about my reputation, I was too scared that you’d reject me but shit, I wish I would have just asked you out before that asshole came along. I would’ve treated you like a queen.” 

Your features softened and you placed your other hand over his, squeezing it gently. 

His eyes flickered down to your lips, he stared at them longingly, like he had always dreamed of kissing you– he did. 

His heart was racing in his chest, “I still would if you let me,” he whispered and looked back into your eyes, “I-I know you just got out of a long relationship but I– we don’t have to do anything, we can just–”

“I’ll let you.”

His pupils flared and a huge smile appeared on his face after the moment of shock simmered away. 

“You will?” He asked excitedly. 

You nodded, smiling at the beautiful man in front of you. You let him pull you closer by your waist until you’re in between his legs, his face just mere inches away from yours. He moved his hands up your arms, staring at the way his jacket hugs your frame, he brushed your hair back and cupped your cheek. 

“Hi,” he whispered, his nose bumping into yours causing you both to giggle. 

“Hi Eddie,” you whispered. 

He felt like he was enchanted by your beauty, by your voice, by you. He always was, from the first moment he had laid his eyes on you. He was enchanted by you and he loved it. 

He stared at you for what felt like forever– he could admire you forever and he would be content with just doing that. He traced your cheek with his thumb and looked into the eyes that were filled with tears earlier– now they showed nothing but peace and happiness, it made him happy. 

This morning, he woke up, made himself a cup of coffee before work and got ready. It was a normal day as always– if he would’ve just known that the girl of his dreams would be in his arms later that night, he would’ve left the house with the biggest smile on his face. 

“I always thought you were the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen,” he whispered as he admired you.

Your pupils widened and a small gasp left your lips, your heart fluttered the way it never had before. 

He leaned closer and kissed your cheek, “you’re an angel.”

“I always thought you were the most beautiful boy,” you whispered back, making him smile. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” you smiled as you mimicked his actions and leaned in to kiss his cheek, letting your lips linger for a second. 

If you could, you would hear his heart racing like crazy. 

“The most beautiful girl should be with the most beautiful boy, don’t you think?” He asked as he leaned in to kiss your other cheek. You smelled like the strawberry milkshake you just had, it made him want to kiss you even more. 

“Mhmm.” 

You smiled at each other, happily. 

Right now, you weren’t in pain, you weren’t thinking about anyone but him, you were happy, content and excited for the future, just like he was. 

He leaned his forehead against yours and continued to hold your cheeks. 

“The hot record store manager and the sexy journalist, sounds perfect to me.” 

You giggled.

“I can write stories about you,” you smiled.

“No sweetheart, you can write stories about us.”