#( 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 )

[oespirito]

𝐇 𝐄 𝐀 𝐃 𝐂 𝐀 𝐍 𝐎 𝐍  — all about him.

O1 — Por culpa de sua luminária, muitos animais o perseguem para sentir a energia da arma, então é bem comum pessoas do chalé de Melinoe acordar com algum bicho dentro do chalé. Ou pessoas verem corvos voando perto dele. O2 — Ian é bem interessado em videogames, mas o seu pai nunca te deu nenhum console, então atualmente fica sempre indo atrás de algum joguinho para jogar. O3 — Ian passou por uma fase muito fã de Arctic Monkey e tenta esconder todos os dias as evidências da época que se vestia igual ao Alex Turner, aposentando sua jaqueta de couro. O4 — Ian acredita que se não fosse por seus poderes o protegendo, não conseguiria sobreviver um dia sem acidentalmente se machucar. O5 — Quando não sabia que era semideus, Ian já quis ser de várias profissões, uma delas sendo poeta (ele nunca escreveu uma poesia na vida dele), professor (desistiu quando ficou um dia no acampamento com tanta criança) e ilustrador (ele ainda sabe desenhar, mas não pratica tanto quanto queria, mas é possível ver ele desenhando pelo acampamento, às vezes) O6 — Ian não é usado como uma ajudante de Sr. D como Olivia, porém como tem uma natureza bem solícita e gosta de ajudar as pessoas acaba estando ajudando outras pessoas pelo acampamento. Mesmo que isso seja uma distração dos estudos para finalmente sair do nivel II. O7 — Por ele ter sido um grande fã de Arctic Monkeys e ter ouvido eles mais vezes do que deveria, ele consegue detectar qual é a musica nos primeiros poucos segundos da canção. Se orgulhava muito disso, mas agora finge que não sabe fazer. O8 — Mesmo Ian parecendo ser bem isolado, às vezes, o menino é facilmente impressionado por pessoas, então é bem comum ver ele entrando em relacionamentos por pura carência do que realmente sentimentos pela pessoa. O9 — Ian é muito bom em corrida de pégasos, gostando de estar no ar e voando com seu parceiro, Alado, um pégasos preto que ele adotou para si. 1O — Ian tem uma estranha agonia com pessoas que parecem muito orgulhosas de si mesmo, falando muito de si mesma a todo tempo. Ele gosta que as pessoas tem esse amor próprio, mas imediatamente começa a pensar em desculpas para sair de perto.

[issominerva]

O Basgiath War College dá as boas-vindas a MINERVA ALONDRA HYBERN, uma PRIMEIRO ANO que mostrou-se disposta a desafiar o parapeito para incorporar o Riders Quadrant. Vinda da província de MORRAINE, ela possui VINTE E TRÊS anos, e foi recrutada para a TERCEIRA ASA, encontrando-se atualmente na SEÇÃO GARRA e fazendo parte do TERCEIRO ESQUADRÃO. Esperamos que algum dragão reconheça que é PERSPICAZ e ARISCA, ou esse cavaleiro estará morto.

Resumo em breve

CONEXÕES

TRIVIA

𝑩𝑨𝑺𝑰𝑪

nome completo: minerva alondra hybern.

apelidos: minnie, mine, erva, ally.

família: filha única.

data de nascimento: xxx.

sexualidade: .

habilidades notórias e armas de preferência: devido a estatura delicada e a clara desvantagem que teria em combates corpo a corpo, desde cedo Minerva fora incentivada a desenvolver habilidades para auxiliá-la em sua jornada enquanto cavaleira. Sendo a alquimia a área que apresentou maior aptidão, horas de estudo e dedicação foram dispensadas para o aprendizado de ervas e desenvolvimento de poções. Com incentivos do pai, inclusive, passou a administrar pequenas doses de veneno em si mesmo, tencionando criar resistência. Foi assim, para não ser subestimada, que tornou-se uma verdadeira mestre de venenos e poções. Além disso, também é uma arqueira muito qualificada e talentosa, mas, apesar de sua arma preferida ser o arco e flechas, Minerva sabia que não conseguiria percorrer o parapeito com um conjunto (ela sequer tentou, na verdade). Em sua mochila, no entanto, levou três de suas armas preferidas, sendo elas: 06 exemplares de bo shuriken, diversos fukibari e também um jogo de neko-te.

dragão e sinete: ainda não vinculado, ainda não manifestado.

𝑻𝑹𝑰𝑽𝑰𝑨

Curiosidades em breve.

𝑩𝑨𝑪𝑲𝑮𝑹𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑫

Assim como um tecelão habilidoso entrelaça fios diversos para criar uma tapeçaria, o destino tece as experiências de cada vida em uma trama intricada. Cada evento, como um fio colorido, contribui para a rica textura do todo. Às vezes, é difícil discernir a beleza completa da tapeçaria quando apenas um fio está sendo tecido, e nós podem acabar se formando e sendo refletidos metros, ou anos, depois. Porque a vida é uma sequência de consequências, seja de decisões tomadas por você ou não. Por isso, é válido dizer que desde o princípio, Minerva estava fadada ao fracasso pois, hereditariamente, carregava o peso de se nascer naquela família. 

Nadine, por vezes, ainda é um assunto proibido mesmo na família, mencionada vagamente como a cavaleira que desonrou a lei suprema. A lenda, ou, de modo mais vulgar, futrica, conta sobre a mulher que num momento de insanidade, tentou tirar a vida de seu próprio dragão, acabando morta no processo. Embora isso tenha acontecido há muito tempo, cerca de três ou quatro gerações antes de Minnie, ela ainda lida com o peso dessas ações, e os familiares mais tradicionais insistem que os Hybern foram amaldiçoados naquele momento por Malek, visto que até o momento, nenhum outro foi capaz de montar em um dragão — ou continuar vivo por tempo o suficiente para ser lembrado, se o fez.

Aqueles que tentaram a vida como cavaleiros acabaram por morrer de uma forma ou outra, fosse durante a travessia do parapeito, nos treinamentos ou durante a colheita — que a alma do tio Coriolanus descanse em paz. E foram eles os responsáveis pela considerável baixa na Casa Hybern. Talvez por isso uma mente sensata tenha iniciado a escalada da família no quadrante da infantaria, mantendo-os na área militar. A distribuição em outros quadrantes, no entanto, já era prevista, e foi por fazer parte do quadrante dos curandeiros que o pai de Minerva conheceu sua mãe, uma cavaleira.

A pequena Hybern sentava-se aos pés de sua avó, já muito idosa, para ouvir as tradições e histórias de sua família. E entre o conto da cavaleira traidora, e do cadete devorado durante a colheita, eram as histórias contadas por sua mãe que faziam seus olhos brilharem. Apaixonada por dragões, desde pequena demonstrara interesse pelo quadrante dos cavaleiros, mesmo que seu pai alegasse ser má ideia e que sua avó insistisse que ele não deveria ter se casado com Damaris. Alguns eventos, porém, estão destinados a acontecer, e pela forma como Minerva anseia pelo riders, este se parece um.

Mesmo indo contra os conselhos do pai, acabou por realizar seu alistamento, não recebendo com grande surpresa sua aceitação nos exames escrito e de agilidade — havia sido ensinada pelos melhores tutores, e treinada diversas vezes por sua mãe. Depois vieram os duzentos degraus e o parapeito, de longe um grande desafio, mas ainda um dos menores que teria de enfrentar. Nem mesmo a chuva foi capaz de a parar, mesmo que tenha vacilado uma ou duas vezes, tencionando não ser um obstáculo a ser superado por aqueles que vinham atrás dela. Quando alcançou o outro lado, caiu exausta no chão de pedra, antes de informar seu nome a um cavaleiro que os esperava.

Ela tem sua própria estigma para se preocupar, ouvindo desde a conscrição que é a garota que matará seu dragão, se vinculada, ou morrerá no processo. Por isso, não se surpreendeu por quererem facilitar esse trabalho  para ela, tornando-a um “alvo fácil” desde o início. Por isso ela não se incomoda com marcados, e possui pouca opinião sobre os filhos dos traidores de Tyrrendor.

[barthmuses]

𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫

meu thread tracker, estarei atualizando, adicionando mais threads com o tempo passando. Se tiver faltando algum, me avisem. Link aqui.

[wilfredd]

𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬

Wilfred Harrington Thornton

Filho de Hipnos

27 anos. (ou 92 anos)

Esteve no acampamento durante os anos 40, e chegou no acampamento uma semana antes da profecia.

Instrutor de meditação.

(Será atualizado com o tempo com mais coisas.)

Amizade

(Wilfred é bem protetor e carinhoso com seus amigos. Não é de falar muito, mas é de estar presente em momentos importantes e para ajudar sempre que precisa. Gosta de ouvir e dar um ombro amigo para quem precisa. Ou seja, não é da festa, mas vai esta lá em um canto tomando conta do bêbado.)

Espera, você é um semideus?: O semideus que junto com um sátiro encontrou com Wil no Hotel Lotus sendo a causa de ele ser identificado como semideus e ter sido trago de volta depois de anos. (0/1) O que isso é um smart- o que?: Muse A foi a pessoa que se dispôs a ensinar sobre tecnologia para Wilfred que não sabia nem da existência de computadores.

Romance

(Wilfred é Homossexual. Por ter ficado 62 anos dentro do Hotel a maioria dessas conexões terão que ser atuais. Não significa ship, pode ser só dinâmicas que podem terminar em amizade/inimizade ou algo do tipo)

Crush não correspondido: Queria muito explorar pessoas gostando do Will e ele não tendo a mínima ideia de como lidar ou não tendo a menor noção de que esta acontecendo, por estar confuso com o tempo que passou ou coisas do tipo. (thomas) Date de um date só: Eles não podem nem ser considerados exes, porque eles só foram em um encontro uma vez e mesmo que eles tenham demonstrado interesse um no outro, Wil não demonstrou nenhum tipo de interesse em continuar aquilo, então Muse A ficou bem confuso e até hoje não entende o que aconteceu. (0/1)

Inimizade

(Motivos para não gostar do Wilfred não é pouco. Além de ele ser bem quieto e poder soar presunçoso ou muito velho enquanto fala de como eram as coisas antigamente, ele também não parece se atentar muito ás coisas em sua volta em geral, então pode soar que não se importa com as pessoas.)

Filhos de Hermes: Não é bem uma inimizade, mas passou toda a sua vida infernado naquele chalé bagunçado e agitado, e ele era um simples não reclamado filho de Hipnos, então nem dormir conseguia sem sofrer alguma peça ou escutar alguém gritando. Não gosta deles e tem preconceito, mas nada que uma conversa possa redimir UM deles. (Olivia.)

Familia

Outros filhos de Hipnos.

FECHADOS

Alunos de Meditação: Pessoas registradas e que participam da aula de meditação. (Gabriel) Take a chill pill, dude: Muse tenta acalmar os nervos de Will de formas diferente. (Max)

[esthernal]

                             ㅤ۫ㅤ੭   both 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒅𝒆𝒏 and 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉 ,                                                         𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐇 .

parece que  𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒛𝒂𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒉 𝒈𝒓𝒂𝒄𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒊𝒔𝒉  passeava pelas ruas de eden essa noite. pertencendo ao clã  𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒐𝒓  , da seita  𝒄𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒊𝒍𝒍𝒂  , foi transformada em vampiro há  𝒏𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒂 𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒊𝒔  anos, mas ninguém diz que ela tem tudo isso, já que aparenta ser bem mais nova. ganhou fama pela cidade não apenas por ser uma  𝒉𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒔𝒔  mas por se mostrar  𝒔𝒐𝒇𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒂  e  𝒉𝒆𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒂  .

❛ 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝒉𝒆𝒓 , the way she 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐃                      (     pinterest  ヽ  connections  ヽ  tags  ヽ  1º task     )                                       𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 her  , ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝒄𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒅 . ❜

Ꞝ     𖥦     𝐈 .

nome esther elizabeth grace cavendish.

apelidos este , es , e.g.

idade 23 anos (120 anos ,  2 de novembro).

nacionalidade londres , inglaterra.

seita camarilla.

clã toreador.

habilidade presença

profissão hostess do pub roi de la bière.

qualidades elegante, carismática, culta, vaidosa, sensível.

defeitos egocêntrica, impulsiva, manipuladora, imprudente, libidinosa.

Ꞝ     𖥦     𝐈𝐈 .

⸻     naturalmente elegante e charmosa, foi criada para agradar — tanto pelos pais biológicos quanto por seu senhor — e entreter, que é o que faz de melhor. é capaz de encantar todos aqueles que quer, muitas vezes sem sequer precisar recorrer à presença. a disciplina, por sinal, sendo nada mais do que uma evolução de dotes já natos à si.  é com toda a sua jocosidade e jovialidade que conseguiu, praticamente, tudo aquele que já teve em vida: desde as aventuras pela paris café society dos expatriados até as músicas ganhas por bandas nos anos 60 e 70, o sustento, não só financeiro, mas alimentício e cultural, foi fruto de muita bajulação e destreza em saber sempre dizer exatamente o que agrada. 

⸻     e, claro, com tanta sensibilidade e falta de talento, o que sempre a ligou ao mundo da arte foi o coração daqueles que a produzem. romântica incurável, deliciosamente obscena, seu jeito de demonstrar admiração e reverência sempre foi dividir a cama dos que julgava geniais. mas, por mais que a primeira vista pareça desapegada, a paixão é sempre forte por todos aqueles a quem se entrega — amante descontrolada, ama e enlouquece na intensidade de um incêndio, ainda que esse possa começar e terminar com um estalar de dedos.  no entanto, é óbvio, tudo o que procurou, e ainda procura, durante as décadas vividas não é simplesmente o amor verdadeiro, já que o experenciou vezes demais, mas sim um que dure eternamente. 

⸻     não pode esquecer-se de seu primeiro amor: a literatura. ainda que tenha sido criado em fortes amarras patriarcais (algumas das quais até hoje não se soltou) e sua educação meramente performativa, a rebeldia dos anos adolescentes — tão famosa que lhe conferiu sua primeira eternização na história, listada dentre os chamados bright young things, primeiro grupo de jovens a ser perseguido pelos tabloides — lhe fez adentrar os círculos intelectuais londrinos da década de 20 e se tornar a maior apreciadora de tudo aquilo que os pensantes da época faziam.  esther nunca teve real aptidão para reproduzir as coisas que sempre disse alimentar verdadeiramente sua alma; sem dons ou talentos, e muito menos sem conhecimento formal o suficiente para qualquer meio acadêmico, seu papel entre o cultural se deu pela forma de musa, inspirando gerações e gerações de artistas e sendo verdadeiramente eternizada.  música, cinema, literatura, arte... são as coisas que é incapaz de viver sem, são as coisas pelas quais vive, as coisas pelas quais aceitou a imortalidade de boa vontade. 

⸻     nos anos convivendo com uma classe conhecida pela desilusão e vícios, a cavendish não se encaixou à toa. eterna festeira, sempre engajou em costumes hedonistas, abusando de bebidas e drogas, entusiasta de festas e multidões e qualquer coisa que se demonstre prazerosa. constantemente necessitada de atenção e afirmação, sofre com picos e declives de autoestima e ódio próprio, se tornando peçonhenta e inescrupulosa na tentativa de reaver afeto e cuidado.

⸻     fato é, com uma alma de eterna dama da sociedade e eterna musa, é dada à uma inércia não tão bem vista. trabalhar é um fardo que odeia e que sempre fez de tudo para fugir de, conforme os tempos avançavam e se tornavam comuns, e, atualmente (enquanto o amor eterno não bate a porta), coleciona uma horda de amantes e admiradores que realmente a sustentam; o trabalho no pub não sendo nada mais do que um ótimo ponto para encontrar aqueles que a agradem e que consiga encantar. 

Ꞝ     𖥦     𝐈𝐈𝐈 .

esther se viu dotada do poder da presença pouco tempo depois do abraço, apesar de ter levado certo tempo para o dominar por completo. ajudando seu jeito charmoso de ser, a manipulação emocional lhe dá a ajuda necessária para conseguir o que quer dos humanos – especialmente de seus amantes, os grandes responsáveis por seu sustento e, bem, por sua alimentação.

Ꞝ     𖥦     𝐈𝐕 .

uma grande credora de que os vampiros deveriam se alimentar somente de sangue humano, esther costuma ludibriar os mortais (seja naturalmente ou usando de sua disciplina) para que possa se alimentar deles, ainda que consiga aguentar um intervalo de tempo levemente maior que o normal. quando incapaz de o fazer sem chamar atenção, recorre às bolsas de sangue, mesmo que não tenham o mesmo gosto.

Ꞝ     𖥦     𝐕 .

algum dia teria qualquer vivido exatamente como os sonhos mais doces de seus genitores? debaixo do teto cavendish, a resposta certamente seria não. um filho pródigo, relutante ao papel lhe conferido pela primogenitura; uma filha enferma, fosse melancolia ou histeria, e, por fim, esther, maculada, dada aos trejeitos de uma geração já considerada perdida antes mesmo que essa começasse.

o sufrágio feminino, a revolta contra o corset e a rebeldia ao cortar o cabelo como de um senhor e mostrar os tornozelos – a loira debutou na época de uma revolução cultural que não deixaria ninguém impune. ainda que a educação não tivesse sido nada além da apropriada e aprovada pelo pai burguês, seu encanto pela literatura e arte não era esperado, mas, de qualquer forma, impossível de ser contido.

participante fixa do grupo que daria o nome à uma geração – fosse os roaring twenties ou até mesmo the lost generation – as festas, danças, fumos e discussões eram sua rotina diária e uma de que se orgulhava, mesmo que repreendida e ameaçada por tal constantemente. uma filha perdida, que jamais seria honrada pela mancha que seus próprios comportamentos e escolhas espalharam por sua reputação. 

o papel de artista nunca lhe caiu bem, exigente e desinteressada demais, mas o de musa lhe aumentou o status de maneira que nem o príncipe de gales (ávido frequentador das festas dessa delinquente roda) lhe tomando como esposa conseguiria. pois isso era algo que podia fazer bem, e nada no mundo lhe agradava mais do que ver a si mesma em coisas que admirava tanto.

quando hemingway passou brevemente em londres, fitzgerald já longe, e a pediu que lhe acompanhasse para paris, bastou um segundo para que se decidisse. carregada de malas e com gritos para que nunca mais voltasse, a esperança de uma vida parisiense, regada a nada mais do que ópio, champagne, literatura e tinta, não lhe deu chances de chorar ou temer.

cocteau, porter, picasso, modigliani, braque, dalí, buñuel, ray – os culpados e incentivadores da vida boêmia que levava, homens que viram por detrás dos olhos grandes demais para sua face e a imortalizaram em suas obras, sutilmente ou não.

para lhe transformar numa eterna inspiração que numa madrugada de céus limpos, a torre eiffel ao fundo, foi abraçada.  sem dor, sem grande alarde, a explicação a deixou atordoada o suficiente para não ir contra, mais tarde aceitando o acontecido como um presente. 

como criança da noite, custou ao seu senhor a controlar e ensinar, mas valeu a pena. virando, agora, credora da camarilla e de tudo que ditavam, todos os pertencentes ao toreador lhe receberam de braços abertos e esther se deixou envolver completamente. ficando por pouco períodos de tempo em eden, geralmente durante os períodos difíceis demais para a humanidade, sua marca foi deixada em todos os cantos possíveis.

no início dos anos 50, se dividia entre aparições diárias no birdland, maior clube de jazz de nova york, rodeadas das amigas estrelas de hollywood, e a cama de sinatra. pouco depois, sua atenção mudava para a french new wave, godard e truffaut eternos gladiadores por sua atenção.

o rock’n’roll a cegou nos anos 60, de volta a inglaterra e depois direto para los angeles, foi uma das primeiras a atender por groupie, mais do que inspirando também trazendo o inferno a vida dos músicos, enquanto ziguezagueava entre os quartos de hotéis dos rolling stones, led zeppelin, the doors e pink floyd – coisa que continuou durante os anos 70.

mais estabelecida em eden a partir dos anos 80, desiludida e entediada, por vezes se viu junto de neil gaiman e alan moore, mais tarde junto dos cantores de britpop (sempre sendo engraçado ouvir wonderwall e se lembrar da tarde em que foi escrita) e da cena grunge.

nos anos 2000 começou a se dedicar a preservação da cultura, virando grande aliada da líder de seu clã, edwige courtet, passou a se utilizar do charme para angariar grandes obras de arte e as colocar na galeria pertencente a courtet – mulher em quem deposita grande confiança, admiração e respeito. 

atualmente, cansada propriamente da vida de musa, ainda que faça sempre questão de se cercar de pessoas intelectualmente interessantes, esther ressurgiu em eden como hostess do pub roi de la bière, lugar perfeito não só para suas pretensões culturais mas também para suas presas, tanto românticas quanto alimentares. 

[luveline]

𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

summary You're having trouble sleeping and pot seems like the only solution. Good thing your dealer, Eddie Munson, knows of another method that he's willing to to teach you. You get more than you bargained for when he tells you what he gets off to every night - you. [8.8k]

warnings 18+ only smut, fem!reader, eddie teaches you how to masturbate, p in v sex, light praise kink, mutual pining/lusting, lots of kissing, dirty talk, weed ment, aftercare, they are not so secretly infatuated with one another, eddie is a soft dork but also dirty <3 r implied as dressing very femininely

𓆩❤︎𓆪

Eddie kneels outside his trailer. 

You stop at the lip of the grass and wonder what he's doing. His back is to you, covered by a band shirt familiar even from this angle and riddled with rips and moth holes. You're about to call out to him when he speaks. 

"You're hot, huh, sweetheart?" Softer than you've ever heard him. "Why don't you go inside? Escape the heat, yeah?"

You approach slowly, footfall smothered by the lush green underfoot. He's scratching behind the ears of a tabby cat. 

"It's so hot out! The sun's gonna cook you," he says, whisper-shouting.

Like the tabby can understand what he's saying it stands, stretches tall and then slinks off into the trailer. "Good girl," Eddie says, standing up. 

"Are you collecting strays?" you ask lightly. 

He turns to you, surprised but not scared. "Don't worry, you're still my favourite." 

Good girl. His words ring loud between both ears. "I'm not a stray." 

"Uh-huh. What's my shy girl want today?" You spin on your heel and Eddie starts laughing. "Sorry, I'm sorry! Come on, you'll like what I have!" 

"You know I can't talk to you when you get like this," you tell him, pouting from over your shoulder. 

He pushes a mess of black curls behind his ear and beckons you forward. "Come on," he says, sing-song. "Let daddy set you up."

"Jesus Christ," you mutter, following Eddie into his house unhappily. 

You hate when he gets in this mood, not because he's ever really made you uncomfortable, but because you like to be teased, and he knows it. Or he likes watching you squirm. Either way, it's dangerous territory. 

"How much did you want?" he asks. 

The cool inside of his trailer is a blessing. You hold your naked arms away from your skin and try to take a deep breath of cool air. "I have thirty dollars. So… however much that is." 

"Babe, what the fuck do you want so much for?" he asks, glancing over his shoulder at you incredulously. 

You follow him into his room. "Do you not have it?" you ask, tracing posters you've seen upwards of ten times by now. Eddie's a good dealer – reliable, sweet, and prone to freebies without any pervy requests in place. 

He once swapped you an eighth for a cheap charm bracelet. He wears it now, the silver delicate and entirely too sweet for his metalhead appearance. It looks good on him, anyhow. 

He pulls open the usual lunchbox you hadn't noticed sitting on one of his amps and pulls out more pot than you've ever seen at one time. "Don't I?" 

"Woah."

"Uh-huh. Ern't she preddy?" he asks in a drawing southern accent. 

You hold out your hands and he lets you take it. When you open the zip lock bag, the smell isn't awful. The buds are thick with green fuzz, and your eyes water. 

You pass it back to him. "How much can I have for thirty?" 

"For you? Half." 

"Don't do that, Eddie. Gimme what you'd give anyone else." 

"But you're not anyone else, babe. You're my favourite customer." 

"I'm gonna put you out of business," you say, lightly chiding. "Can I sit down?" 

He hums and nods and you sit cross legged at the top of his bed. His bed sheets are pushed away and the space is cold. His pillow under your hand is colder. 

Eddie doesn't bother weighing it. You roll your eyes at him but also feel amazingly happy, because it's a lot of pot for not a lot of money, because his favouritism speaks for what you hope might be a small crush. Still, when he passes you the new bag you feel guilty. 

"Eddie, I can't take that. I know that's more than thirty." 

His eyebrows jump. "I don't care. What's the point in doing this if I can't give pretty girls a little something extra?" 

"I don't know. To make money?" 

He holds out the bag. You don't take it. "Fine," he says, sighing.

"Thank you." You watch him fish three or four bigger buds out of the bag. He presents you with a much more reasonable amount, his hands stained with the smell. "Thank you," you say again.

"Yeah. Wanna stay and watch a movie?" 

You've known Eddie since middle school. Classmates, not really friends, not not friends, though ever since you've started buying a small kinship has blossomed between you. 

"What movie?" 

"Whatever you want." 

You nibble the inside of your lip. "You'll roll up for me?" 

"Sure will." 

So you end up on Eddie's couch with the tabby cat that isn't his purring heavily on your lap as he rolls a couple of joints for you. You won't smoke anything until tonight so Eddie drops them into your newly acquired ziplock bag with papers and the leftover bud. 

He sniffs. "So, you're not sleeping?" he asks knowingly, straightening out with a groan and disappearing out of view into the kitchenette. You're a total overthinker. Pot helps you calm down.

"I'm sleeping." 

"After toking up." 

"There's…" You scratch the vibrating cat behind its ears, frowning to yourself. "Worse things to do." 

"Better ones, though. Hey, do you want a drink?" 

You say no and he brings you a glass of water anyways. His hands smell strongly of hand soap and faintly of weed as he passes it to you. You take it carefully, wary of disturbing your cuddle partner. 

"Like what?" you ask.

"Cranking one out, for starters." 

You wince, afraid to bring the lip of the glass to your mouth in case you choke on it. "Anything else?"

"Running?" Eddie suggests, sitting with you but leaving a more than comfortable gap between your legs.

"Not my thing," you murmur. 

It's weird, but anything above murmuring feels like shouting in the calm of his home. The movie plays on the TV and the cat purs, Eddie spreads his legs out and slouches into the cushions, his face surrounded by dark hair. He smiles at you like he always does, amicable if slightly flirty. 

"Maybe pot is your only option," he says mournfully. He pulls a lock of hair in front of his face and his eyebrows pinch together. "Make sure you brush your teeth after though. Or you'll get bad teeth."

"Bad teeth?" 

"Smoking ruins your pearls." 

You put down your glass of water and weave your fingers into the cat's rough fur. Eddie is really nice. Really really nice. And he probably likes you, so… what's the worst that could happen, by asking? 

I'm only asking, you decide. 

"Eddie," you say softly, disrupting a big tobacco rant that he'd started. "What- when you say cranking one out, that's-" 

"You know." He holds his hand above his crotch and squeezes the air. You feel a terrible heat start to collect in your abdomen. "Five to one? Uh- Nulling the void?" He grasps for words at your lost expression. "Making soup?" 

His voice goes high. You think he's as embarrassed as you are, and you're not gonna ask again. You giggle. "Oh, right." 

He drops his hand heavy against the seat of his pants and leans back. "Crank one out and sleep like a log." 

"That works for you?" you ask tentatively. 

"Every night." 

You sink down into the couch and hide your face in cat fur. Eddie starts asking about how your job is, a genuine, earnest interest that further cements your next decision. You clear your throat. 

"Eddie, can I ask you something?" He grins and waves his hand. "When you," you wince, "'make soup', do you just- how do you…" You slink down so far you're almost falling off of the couch. "How do you make yourself-" You gesture to your pelvis and then screw your hand into a fist, self-conscious.

He blinks. "Finish?" 

You look at the chain around his neck rather than his face. "Yeah." 

"Are you asking me because you want to know how I do it, or because you don't know how to do it to yourself?" 

You rub your cheek with your shoulder. "The second option." 

"Shit," he mutters. 

"Sorry, you don't have to- I just thought-" 

Eddie sits up. He looks more serious than he had before but not any less patient, elbows braced on his knees and head propped up in his hand. He parts his fingers over his lips. 

"You don't know how?" he asks. 

"I must've missed that lesson in sex ed," you try to joke. It comes out awkward. Eddie laughs anyways, a huff of breath. 

"Lucky you, I've sat through sex ed three times." He grins brilliantly, but his joking tone softens when he sees your hesitant expression. "If you wanna know, I'm happy to tell you." 

"Are you sure?"

"We're friends, right? What are friends for?" You don't miss the sarcastic twist to his words or his ironic smile. 

Friends like you and Eddie likely aren't meant to be giving one another lessons on masturbation. But really, he's the only person you know who you could ask and wouldn't feel totally looked down on. Eddie's nice to his core, but better – he doesn't judge. 

You struggle to know what to ask. 

The cat chooses this moment to wake and jump off of you, strutting out of the trailer's open door and back into the sunlight without so much as a grateful look back. 

And now you're alone with him. 

"How's your anatomy?" he asks. You shake your head slowly. "You know, grade wise? Are we passing? B? B-? C?" 

"I don't know what you're talking about, Munson." 

"Do you know what's what?" he asks concisely.

You sit up and press your knees together, suddenly very aware of your 'anatomy'. "I think so." 

He purses his lips for a few seconds before shrugging. "Alright. We can work with that." Eddie pushes his cheek into the couch and looks at your face unflinching as he says, "You know what your clit is?" 

You cringe. Full body. 

Eddie shrugs. "What? That's what it's called. You don't have to be embarrassed about it." 

"I know what it is." 

"And you can't make yourself-" 

"No." 

He doesn't miss your frustration. "Hey, hey, it's fine. Some people think that it's, like, a magic on-button, but it's not. There's a whole process." 

"How do you know?" you ask genuinely. 

His answering smile is wolfish. "I'm in a band, babe. Fucking a guitarist is like, a bucket list thing or some shit. Girls will tell you exactly what they want if you're willing to listen." 

Something about his knowing look has your heart skipping a beat. Maybe two. He pushes his hand across the couch and you're not sure if it's on purpose or accident, only that he's leaning in, a small smile on his face. 

"And I'm a damn good listener." 

You meet his eyes and know what he's offering. He waits, ring heavy fingers splayed wide in the space between you. It's the sight of them – thick, long and adorned in string-wrought calluses – that tips you over the edge. 

He's already pulling back with a reassuring smile on his face, lips parted to likely say something too nice when you interrupt him. 

"Will you teach me?" you ask quietly. 

A split-second of surprise is quickly overtaken by enthusiasm. "You're not high, are you?" 

"No." 

He gets up to close the door and starts for his room. You linger on the couch uselessly and he doubles back, hand on the wall. "Are you coming?" 

The noise from the TV fades as you walk down the hall and into his room. Your socked foot nudges into a tower of books close to the door and you reach out to steady them. Eddie pulls the sheets back into place and flicks on the lamp. He pauses by the stereo before turning that on, too. 

A song you don't recognise starts to play. Eddie climbs up onto his bed and stands there for a second, suddenly very tall. "You wanna take off your jacket?"

"It's a cardigan." You peel the thin white cotton off of your shoulders and shift from foot to foot, unsure of yourself. 

Eddie settles on his knees, pulls off his rings. "It's pretty. Come here," he says, holding out his arms. 

You slide onto the bed cautiously, naked calves rubbing against the sheets. You feel as though every sense has been dialled to eleven; you're thinking about every brush of fabric, every small sound that they make. 

Eddie takes one of your hands and you sit with one leg crossed and the other hanging off the edge of the bed, surprised at his soft touch. He soothes your hand and brings it to his lap, eyes on your now-bared shoulders. 

"You dress real pretty." He says it with his usual dramatics, though there's enough sincerity there to make you smile. 

You look down at your delicate clothes thoughtfully. "You think so?" 

"Mh-hm. It suits you," he says as he drums his thumbs against the back of your hand. 

He pushes one palm up the length of your arm and pulls it towards him at the same time. You've never been touched like this before and you want it bad, shuffling towards him with a shameful speed. He takes it in stride, hand bumping up the hill of your shoulder. His index finger slides under the skinny strap of your top and tugs at it playfully. 

"You look sweet. Really sweet," he says, his voice more hushed than before. His eyes drop to your thighs. "You'll have to take those off, though."

"My shirt too?" you ask weakly, eyebrows pinched up at the starts. 

"Not if you don't want to." You hesitate. He takes your thigh into a big hand and gives you a small shake. "It's okay. Take your time. Or, if you changed your mind, that's totally cool." 

"No, I haven't," you deny, voice trembling with a mixture of nerves and anticipation. You kick your legs out in front of you one at a time and ease your shorts over the slopes of your thighs and calves, pushing them off of his bed with your feet. 

“If you change your mind at any point-“

“I’ll tell you,” you say, nodding as you pull your knees together. 

Eddie manoeuvres so he’s close, twisted toward you with his hand braced by your thigh. The cold metal of the charm bracelet you'd swapped him bites into your skin. If you leaned back and he leaned forward, he could kiss you. You think maybe he has the same idea as his eyes dart to your lips. 

They linger. 

He blinks and it’s gone. 

“I’m gonna rub your leg,” he says quietly, “and when I get to the inside, I’m gonna touch you. Okay?”

As he says it, his hand moves onto your thigh. Down to your knee.

Slowly, so slowly, back up. His fingers caress the inside of your thigh. He pauses. 

“‘Kay,” you whisper. 

His fingers flex over your flesh as he draws in. Then, like a shock, his fingertips press to your underwear. 

“I’m not surprised,” he says steadily, fingers brushing over your cunt, ghosting but never truly touching where you want him to. 

“By what?” 

“That you wear such cute panties.” He strokes the hem with the tip of his finger and you hold your breath as he slides it under the elastic, running the fabric over his digit gently. “S’exactly the kind of thing I pictured you wearing.”

“You’ve pictured them?” 

He looks up from his teasing and your panties snap into place. You gasp on instinct and his eyes narrow, his lashes kissing in the corners. “Does that bother you?” he murmurs. 

You shake your head. His lips quirk up, a smugness that makes your heart race ever faster. 

"Do you do anything like this with yourself?" he asks. 

"I'm never this nice." 

"That's a crime," he says, and he laughs loud, momentarily shattering the distilled atmosphere that had settled over you both. "Thighs like these and you don't touch them?"

"Is that what you do?" you ask, insecure.

"No, but it's different. I don't need to get warmed up like you do." 

"Warmed up?" you whisper. Having to ask these questions feels so embarrassing. 

Eddie being so soft about it makes it easier. "Relaxed," he whispers in turn, laughing towards the end.

His thumb rubs the elastic of your underwear and drifts slowly inward until he's pushing over your folds. You gasp and it's slightly startled, sounding too close to panic for Eddie, who's hand flinches away. 

"Didn't like that?" he asks. 

You rush, "It's okay. Surprised." 

One big hand holds your thigh, the other strokes your cunt. He's a little firmer now, pushing the breadth of his thumb over your panties until he touches something very sensitive. "Here?" He pushes up a little higher and your breath catches. He makes an almost inaudible cooing sound and flattens his hand, rubbing the length of your cunt without finesse. It feels good anyway. It surprises you how much you like it. 

He pinches your panties.

"Ready to take them off?" he asks. 

"Yeah." 

You lift your hips and peel your underwear down, folding your legs to pull them off of your ankles. You clutch them in your hand, unsure. 

Eddie sits back and pulls you towards him. You let him manhandle you with a small gasp, his hands pressing into the soft of your tummy. You can't see his face anymore. 

"Alright," he murmurs, pulling your thigh over his lap and spreading you wide. His voice is loud in your ear because of his proximity, and you resist the temptation to turn your face to his.

"Let's just-" he works your underwear out of your hand and tosses them aside. 

His hand lands on your knee and moves down fast. 

You lean back heavily into his chest with your hands pulled to your sternum. 

"Eddie," you say, "what do I do?" 

He hums. "Touch yourself." 

You seize up and he's quick to soothe, fingers closing around the crook of your elbow.

"Hey, I'm gonna show you. I'm gonna show you," he repeats. He pulls at the lip of your cunt and spreads you open, groaning softly. You wouldn't hear it if his lips weren't so close to your face. "How'd you have a cunt this sweet and never touch it? I mean, fuck." 

His fingertips whisper past your pubic hair like he's going to say something more, but he only asks, "Hand?" 

You put your hand into his, the back to his palm. 

He sets it to your thigh. "Do what I did before, okay? Slowly…" He drags your hand up and down the length of your thigh. 

Your heart is racing. Every time you crawl close to your cunt the burning longing to be touched, to touch yourself, and to have him touch you intensifies. 

Eventually he pulls your hand to your clit. "You're so sensitive. Is it always this bad?" he asks sympathetically when you jump, tickled at the feelin. 

"I haven't tried in a while." 

"Oh, I see." Eddie encourages you to push your fingertip into the bead of your clit, drawing slow circles. "Poor baby. Just desperate to have someone take care of you." His voice is so low, so ridiculously soft, you find yourself sinking into his hold. He squeezes the crook of your elbow with one hand, the other still guiding your ministrations. You bite your lip at the sensation that's begun, the tiny spark of pleasure.

"Here, let me-" He lifts your hand away from your clit and you whine involuntarily. "Shh, sweetheart, I'm only gonna give you something to work with." 

You turn your head to him and watch as his mouth opens. He sucks the very tip of your finger between his lips, the heat of his tongue a momentary flash. When he pulls it back, your finger shines with his spit. 

Your eyes are half-lidded, watching through the crush of your lashes as he presses it back to your clit. "How's that? S'that better?" he asks, crooning. His tone sports an underlying mockery, a light-hearted teasing that's slowly turning intense. 

It is better. It's different. Your fingertip searches for purchase against the slick skin and struggles to find it, the wetness allowing for freer, faster movement. 

You push a second finger against the first. 

Eddie stops helping. You pause, confused. 

"No, you got it, sweetheart. You keep going," he reassures, grabbing a hold of your thigh again. He teases the dough there, never cruel but maybe close, fat moulding under his fingers as he squeezes. 

Your breathing builds with pleasure. Still, it's hot enough; there's no sign of an oncoming climax, no tightening coil in your tummy. You huff with exertion and frustration. "Eddie, it's not working." 

"I'm not done." He sounds almost stern. Your stomach flips. "You have to think about what you want." 

"What I want?" 

"What turns you on." 

You think of his hands and their rings. His happy trail. 

His voice. Good girl. 

You slam your eyes shut.

Eddie gives you another mean squeeze. "What do you think about, when you-" 

You don't let him finish. "What do you think about?" you ask, too loud. 

He stills. His nose pushes into your shoulder, his hair tickling your skin as he asks, "Are you sure you wanna know?"

Your breath catches. Your fingers stutter where they work into your clit and Eddie starts you right back up again. His lips brush your shoulder. 

"Yes," you say, gasping as pleasure like little shocks of heat shoot to your core. 

The hand at your elbow starts to rove, tickling your arm as he strokes downwards. "You first," he murmurs, teasing your wrist. You swear you can feel his smile against your shoulder. 

You breathe in through your nose. "Uh, I think of- of somebody…" You try, but you just can't say it. 

Eddie's fingers push down your crease. Stop right before your entrance. "Is this okay?" 

"Yeah." 

"Mmm…" He circles your entrance. "Now what does a pretty girl like you think of when she's touching herself?" You don't think he wants an answer. His middle finger brushes across the slick well and pushes in. You squirm and he holds you in place. 

There's something very hard digging into your spine. 

"Something sweet as you… Let me guess. Boy next door comes around to mow the lawn, you invite him in for a drink, one thing comes to another-" He pushes his finger in deeper. "And he's fucking you.

"That sound about right?" 

You shake your head. His own perks up where it rests on your shoulder. "No? Huh." 

Your circles have grown slow and staggered, distracted by his touch as he eases his ring finger in beside his middle. "Something more romantic? Wedding night, love of your life. Guy that's gonna treat you like a diamond. Way a girl like you deserves." He pushes in, stretches them out. You moan as he curls them, as his arm works back and forth. "Gives it to you gentle." His movements slow to match.

And sure, that sounds nice. But it's not what you think about. 

"No," you manage to get out through shallow breaths. 

"No? You don't want it gentle?" 

"Not- not all the time." 

"How about right now?"

"Please." 

Slowly, slowly, the shape of Eddie's hard cock against your back starts to move in time with the thrusts of his hand. He pushes in deep, fingers searching emphatically for the sweet spot, the thing that's gonna make you- 

"Fuck," you whimper. 

His cock jumps. You feel it. 

"You keep rubbing that pretty little clit of yours, sweetheart." 

You do as he asks. You're desperate enough now that you imagine you'd do most anything he says, your climax a tangible, physical possibility. Your tummy feels heavy and aching with want, worse when he probes deeply and marks your sweet spot again. His lips press to your shoulder, soft enough that you worry you're imagining it. 

"You see what I'm doing here? See what fingers I'm using?" he asks. You open your eyes reluctantly. His wrist turns. You watch his fingers sink into the gummy heat of your cunt. "Tight little hole's just pulling me in, fucking clinging to me, baby, she's greedy." 

You gasp, a hiccup of scandalised sound. 

"Want you to try, okay? You gonna do that for me?" 

"Yeah, Eddie." 

"Good girl." You moan, you don't mean to, but he's fucking into your quick and your finger pushes into your clit roughly. Eddie revels in it. "You like that? You like being called a good girl? I fucking knew it." 

You frown and start to turn to him. He presses his cheek to your head so you can't, stuck looking down the length of the bed at your trembling legs. 

"You looked so flustered, standing all sweet and quiet by the van out front with your thighs squeezed together. You think I didn't see that shit?" 

You're limp against him, thighs spread wide as you work into your clit, chasing this new feeling. You can hardly breathe, every exhale a keening moan that has you shame-faced and weepy. You roll your hips to meet his fingers, his hand slapping against your cunt with a slick slap. 

"You looked so sweet. Y'always do." He turns his lips to your ear and curls into you until your squealing. "Guess looks can be deceiving." 

You're so close, so close. Tendrils of heat curl heavily at your core. "Eddie, I'm- I'm-"

"You wanna cum?"

"Yes," you pant. 

He pulls his fingers from your cunt and you're so confused that you stop, your climax slipping away in seconds. 

"Sorry, but you have to do it yourself. This is all pointless if you can't get there on your own," he says. 

Your chest heaves. "That's mean. You're mean." 

"I never claimed otherwise. Here, middle and marriage, babe." He guides your hand to your entrance. You push your fingers inside, your tongue between your lips in concentration. Your fingers aren't as thick as his, they don't feel quite the same, but Eddie pushes your thumb into your clit. "Move your wrist. Feel that? Feel how soft you are? How fucking warm you are?" 

You're not nearly as good as he was but every clumsy touch feels electric. You push your thumb into sweeping circles and pant your frustration aloud, feeling close to tears. 

"You wanna know what I think about, when I jerk off?" he asks unexpectedly.

You nod, your head moving back into his collar. He rubs the lengths of your arms leisurely, his lazy demeanour in total juxtaposition to your desperation.

"There's this girl that comes to see me," he starts, coloured by a smug amusement. "Sweet thing, soft-spoken, always wearing these pretty clothes looking like something straight out of the movies.

"I think about a lot of things. Her thighs-" One of his hands falls to your thigh in time, massaging, "fuck, just wanna bury my face in them and never come out. Pull down those cotton shorts she's so partial to with the dainty stitching and-" He laughs and his lips part over your shoulder. His teeth scratch up, up, up. "Make her fucking cry my name. Feel those thighs tense up around me." 

You're so close your entire body shudders. You slow without meaning to, holding your breath in wait for Eddie to finish his story  

He gives you one final push. "Always wondered if she sounds as pretty as she looks when she cums." He kisses the small graze he'd given you mere seconds ago and everything is blue-white with heat. "Gonna clue me in, sweetheart? Gonna cum for me?" 

Your eyes close hard and you breathe out, an exhale ragged and weak and mewling. You don't moan so much as sob without tears, tensing up in Eddie's arms as bliss blooms. You pull your hand from your sopping cunt and feel your walls contract around nothing as you cum.

He pulls you close, throbbing cock pressing hard into your back. "Fuck," he hisses, hands placating where they lay. 

You go lax, head tipping back as you suck in air that had felt elusive moments ago. 

Eddie rubs your arms without saying anything. You cover his hands and try to summon up words. 

"Just as pretty as you look," he murmurs. 

He's so fuckng nice. So fucking nice, and what? He thinks about you when he jacks off? Since when? 

You sit up and drop your chin to your chest, panting still. 

"You okay?"

After a few seconds you smile and turn to him, intent on saying, Yes, thank you, and maybe something with more gratitude, something silly, just something. But you can't speak.

His face is close. 

Eddie brings a hand to the slope of your rising shoulder, follows a line to the curve of your neck. You look to his eyes and find him staring at your lips unabashedly. 

He pulls you into him. You close your eyes. 

Eddie Munson tastes like lots of things as he kisses you.

Cigarettes, unavoidable. Under that, sugar. Something sweet but heavy as bourbon vanilla. Your lips part and close in tandem with his, slow and hungry. Your heart races and your fingers are still wet as you twist in his arms and take his face into your hands. 

You climb up onto your knees and Eddie doesn't know what to do with you. 

He smiles so hard he has to pull away. Not smirking, smiling, a cheek-aching, too-happy smile that softens everything in your chest. 

You rub a shaking thumb over his cheek. You don't know if it's because of the post-orgasm rush of hormones or because he just kissed you and now he's smiling like he might do it again. 

He does. He kisses you and grabs your waist. His fingers mess with the hem of your shirt and he breaks the kiss short to say, "Take it off?" 

You sit back on your knees, feel the mess of wet between your legs spread as you grab at the edge of your shirt and pull it up. Eddie helps though he doesn't need to, and just like that you're shirtless. 

"Oh my god, I can't believe this is happening," he says, voice weak in what you suspect is one of his dramatics. 

He slides his hands up your sides and stops just below your breasts. His thumbs grace the undersides and his brow puckers. "Fuck," he mouths appreciatively. 

You flush head to toe. "Yours, too?" you ask gently. 

Eddie reaches back to pull off his shirt. His hair's in total disarray and he runs his hands through it, biceps flexing with the movement, torso taut. The black ink of his tattoos move with him and your eyes eat up every single one. 

He catches your eyes where they linger on the volley of bats. "You like that one?" 

"I've always liked that one." 

He grins and it's honey thick, hands at the small of your back and tugging. You spread your knees wide on impulse and find yourself flush to his chest, his arms locking you into place as he dives in for another kiss. Again you're surprised at how deeply he kisses you, how it ebbs and flows from slow to fast like he's both savouring and gorging himself on your closeness. 

You've never been kissed like this. You're weightless. You feel every contiguity between you, the hot and wet of his mouth, the crook of his elbow against the nape of your neck, your nipples peaked against his chest and the length of his dick pushing up into your aching cunt. 

"Fucking pretty," he says, pulling back just enough to kiss the corner of your mouth, your chin. He kisses your jaw over and over and over, lips pulling into crescents and then the same word. Pretty. 

His mouth opens wide at your throat, teeth scratching lightly as it closes. He sucks your skin between his lips and rolls it, hand spreading wide and palm flat at your shoulder blade. Steadying. . 

"That's cute," he says when he pulls away, lips shining. 

"What?" you ask, hand drifting up. You poke at the quick-forming contusion.

He nudges it aside with his face as he moves in to further mark up your neck. "You're so fucking pretty," he says, each word separated by a nipping kiss. 

His hands are everywhere.

Everything is warm and you can't breathe. You plant your hands at his shoulders and push away from him, and he stops you from falling flat on your back, levelling you with a worried glance. 

"Is it too much?" he asks. 

"No, I'm just hot. Really hot." You take a big breath and wipe your face with the back of both hands. 

"That's true," he says, leaning back against the wall. His hands fall to your thighs. "Are you okay?" 

You drop your hands abruptly and can't believe the fondness you're feeling. "You're pretty, too," you tell him. Honest if very shy; meek, entirely sincere. "I'm okay. I want…" 

"You want?" he asks, raising an eyebrow. 

"I have this fantasy," you begin. 

Eddie widens your legs to move from under them. It doesn't surprise you when he comes to lie on your chest, holding his weight off of you with an arm at the side of your ribs. His hair falls and hides the room from view. All you can see is his face, and it's beautiful. 

"Tell me about it." 

"It's- okay. It's…" You drift off as he dips down to kiss your collar, only chaste pecks but enough to distract you. "It's kind of like this." 

"Yeah?" His breath warms your chest. More ditzy kisses.

"I get here and you're coming out of the shower-" 

"Tasteful." 

"With a towel low on your hips," you add pointedly. It's useless, his sarcasm has pinned you spot on. "And you- you touch me." 

Eddie kitten licks the skin he's just nibbled and looks up. "Like this?" 

"Like this." 

"And after that," his hand moves between you to the zipper of his jeans, the sound of metal clicking metal ringing through the room, "what do I do?" 

"You push me down into the bed, and-" You feel the fabric of his jeans rub your thighs as he pulls them down. "You…" 

"What do I do, sweetheart?" 

"You push my legs up and you fuck me," you confess.

He scrambles back towards his nightstand, a hand on your ankle that says, I'm not going far. "How do I fuck you? Am I rough?" 

"Not at first." 

There, in his hands, the red plastic of a condom wrapper, bright as a maraschino cherry. He holds it up and you nod. 

"Not at first," he murmurs, ripping open the condom, hissing as he pulls it over his weeping cock. It's big – not too thick, but big, surrounded by a thatch of dark curls trimmed neat. "But eventually?" 

He rolls it on tight and then there's nothing but this admission of your guiltiest fantasy. You spread your legs without thinking and he pulls you towards him, thumb collecting slick where it's pooled and pushing it up towards your entrance. What's left on his fingers he smears over the length of his shaft. You watch him rub at the head and sigh. 

"Eventually," you agree. 

His cock rubs up against you as he leans down and pinches your chin between his fingers, lips parted from a sharp gasp and opening further. "Can I fuck you? Is that what you want?" 

You nod voraciously. 

He gives you a very firm kiss at the highest point of your cheek. "In words." 

"Yes, you can fuck me. That's what I want," you say without hesitation. 

"You tell me if I do something you don't like," he says, lining up. 

"I will," you say earnestly. 

Eddie pushes your leg up towards your tummy and holds it there. "Good girl," he praises, and pushes in.

You're already worked open by his hand, your own hand and your climax, and still it's a snug fit. You cross your arm over your chest with your lips bitten hard to stop from making what you anticipate to be a very great and mortifying sound. He takes it slow, real slow, towering over you with his brows furrowed just slightly and his back arching. Every move he makes is accompanied by a careful thrust of his hips. He's rhythm in motion. 

"Fuck," he mutters, more than once. He's halfway when you feel that stretch, your pulpy walls accommodating him with little complaint and a lot of pleasure. 

You drop your head back against the bed sheets and hug yourself. 

Eddie reaches for your hand where its cracking your breast absentmindedly and squeezes your fingers. "How's that?" he asks. "How's that feel?" 

You close your eyes. "S'good, Eddie." You lay out your own roll of expletives as he pushes in ever deeper. "You're really- oh," you gasp, "really deep." 

"You should see it, babe, pretty pussy gripping my every fucking inch." He leans down and his cock fills another inch of you. Your fingers ache with how hard he's squeezing them, and you look up to find his eyes on yours. "I'm gonna fill you up, okay? You gonna be a good girl for me and take it?" 

You blink and your lashes feel heavy with tears. "Yeah. I can take it. I can take it." 

"I know," he says, hovering over you, close enough to hug if you wanted to. 

He grabs your side and his thumb pushes into the soft swell of your breast, his grip tightening as he fits those last inches of his cock inside you. You rub your cheek against his bedsheets, your head fuzzy from being so full. He takes your bared neck as an opportunity and ducks into the juncture of it and his face fits there like it was made to, his nose bobbing against the column of your throat as he starts to fuck into you. His hips roll, a mess of his sticky pubes kissing your clit. 

This close you can smell him, the heavy scents of pot and smoke, the sweet nutty smell of oil clinging to his hair. Sweat, as you imagine you smell of too, and sex. The room is filled with it, the smells and the sounds of his thighs thudding into yours. 

"Eddie- Eddie," you whimper, muffled by the sheets beneath you. 

He pushes in deep and rubs his nose into your skin emphatically. "What's wrong, hm? What's got you all wound up?" 

You wrap your arms around his back. You're not sure if you're allowed to but you're hardly thinking ahead – you can't. Every thrust, every movement he makes is at the forefront of your mind, commanding all of your attention. The tickling of his hair against the side of your face. The skipping of the chains of his necklace where it teases your neck. 

"Babe?" he asks, pulling back to turn your head. He stills inside you. 

You protest, loud and completely unlike yourself. "Eddie, don't stop. Please don't." Your hands push into his shoulder blades. He ruts in at your request, thumb rubbing your cheek. "Feels so good," you say. You trip over your praise, voice breaking. 

He starts up again, whispering, "Do you want me to hold your leg up, pretty girl?" and, "Taking me so well- taking it so fucking well," and, worse, "Fuck, sweetheart, just like that," when you tigthen around him. 

You weave your fingers into the messy crush of black curls surrounding his face, careful not to tug as you covet the back of his head and nape of his neck, scratching his scalp lightly with one hand as the other strokes his side. 

Your moans become a half-sobbing sort of mess, quiet and desperate, drawn out of you with every tap of his cock into your soft spot. When he finds it he can't not search for it, rutting into it over and over until you can't produce anything but an unintelligible stream of babble and happy sighs. 

He laps lazily at your neck, the stretch of skin dampened and stinging from love bites. He thrusts in hard and hits something sweet that has you clinging to him. 

"You smell good," he says into your skin.

Your hips ache with pleasure. "I must taste pretty good," you say. What, with how he's willing to nibble on you like this. 

He squeezes your neck and narrows his eyes at you playfully. "I intend to find out." He moves down until your lips are a hair's width from touching. "Bet you taste as sweet as everything else."

You lift your chin and kiss him, dedicating your affections to his top lip. He groans into your mouth, hips moving slow and thrusts shallow when suddenly they're not. His cock drags out slowly and slams in deep, his pelvis hitting into yours. 

You keen into the kiss, gentle and at odds with his fucking. His fingers find your ear and his thumb follows down the shell until he's pinching your earlobe, a split-second touch that melts you into putty. He pulls away from the kiss and inhales loudly, his fingers under your ear and pushing your face to the side so that he can wade in from a new angle.

You curl your fingers around his wrist and let yourself be kissed and fucked and touched. Anything he wants to do, he can do. 

Eddie breaks the kiss.

"What did I taste like?" you ask breathlessly. 

He traces an invisible teardrop down your cheek with the back of his pinky finger. "Oh, sweetheart," he says quietly, lowering his lips to the shell of your ear. "That's not where I meant." 

Another hard thrust. You gasp at the dull aching spreading through your tummy and Eddie softens slightly, not so deep but just as fast, faster, his cheek to your cheek as he works you open. His rugged panting in your ear is everything you need. You force your hand between your body and Eddie's and search for the wet mess of your clit, chasing quick circles into the swollen bump. 

Eddie realises what's happening and his fucking turns desperate. "You gonna cum again? Shit- keep touching, I'll get you there, fucking promise you." He's hardly pulling out an inch before he's rutting back in, kicking up the speed until all you can feel is pleasure again. 

Eddie slows down as you cum, moaning as you tighten around him. He pushes away from you to kneel between your legs again, eyes locking onto your cunt obstinately, his panting loud as he drags his cock in and out. 

"Insane," he mumbles, hands coasting down your legs until he's grasping the fat of your thighs and pulling you back onto his cock. "You're insane." 

As if proving it, his hands rove the hills and troughs of your torso, your skin clammy underhand, his hips moving mindlessly. You cover your mouth with the back of your hand and blink back into focus. 

"Are you close?" you ask him, whispering. 

You're lucky he can hear you with the music he's playing and the sounds of your slick hole being stretched. Eddie tucks a lock of sweat-dark hair behind his ear and his eyes pause in their reverential searching to meet yours. 

He peels your hand off of your mouth and holds it. 

"Fucking teetering, babe. Been close ever since I felt you wrapped around my fingers." He pulls your hand and you take it as a cue to try and sit up. Eddie helps you into his lap, your thighs straddling his thighs, slipping down his length until you're stuffed to bursting. 

You hide your face in his shoulder and he rubs your back. "You're okay," he says sympathetically, "I got you. You just sit pretty, there's a good girl." 

You wrap your arms around his neck and try your best to bounce on his cock as he thrust up into you, a steady pace that turns sloppy. You rake your hands through his curls and kiss at the curve of his neck down to the slope of his shoulder, dizzied and cock-drunk, totally fucked out. You hum into your kisses with every prodding of his mushroom tip against your deepest spot, rambling nonsense at him in a way you hope is making a difference. 

"Fucking me so good," you mumble, equal parts tearful and euphoric, lips wet and spreading a shine like frost in the sun over his lean shoulder. "So good, Eddie. Thought about this too much." 

"Yeah?" he asks, sounding like a different person. Voice rough as hewn stone and hands bruising where they grip you, his heavy sack slapping into you with every sluggish rock of his hips. "Good as you pictured? M'I fucking you like you wanted?" 

"Better," you say sincerely. 

"Fuck, sweetheart," he says, and he's close, you know he is.

You roll your pelvis in circles and try your hardest, aflame as you plead, "Cum for me, please? Please, Eddie, wanna feel it." 

Despite your shy intonation Eddie goes rigid. He fucks in with one final thrust that sends shocks deep to your core and spreading out, cutting your happy little gasp short as he pulls your head tight to his neck. His hips twitch underneath you and he's making sounds that are going to haunt you, whiney, begging moans over your head. 

Eddie's tight hold on you slowly loosens. You're breathing fast, finally out of motion. Your thighs burn where they're spread over his lap and you squirm unintentionally. 

He pulls your neck back from his shoulder and looks over your face, concern lining the soft set of his eyes. He cups your cheek in question. 

"I'm okay," you say softly. "I'm more than okay. That was amazing." 

"It was amazing," he agrees, caught off guard.

"Yeah." 

You shift backwards and the two of you wince at the sensitivity. You ease your legs open and Eddie pulls out, pumping the sticky shaft once. His eyes flutter closed. 

You move off of his lap and turn to the side so you can stretch out your aching legs. Eddie follows suit, collapsing off of his knees and onto his back, the pillow behind him keeping him propped up. 

You watch him ease the condom off of his cock curiously, White cum has smeared and drips down the length of him, his pubes tangled by a mixture of your slick and his. 

He spots you watching and smiles. "What, sweetness? What are you thinking about?"

"I made you cum." 

His eyebrows jump but quickly smooth. "I think I went blind, for a second." 

You giggle at his hyperbole and he pulls you down against his chest, your side pressing into his navel. Your cheek to the space shy of his heart. 

His hand comes to rest on your forehead. 

"Do you really think about me?" you ask, knowing the answer. 

"Every night." 

You close your eyes and hide your smile in his skin. He chuckles and wraps you up in one arm, his hand a firm pressure as he massage the dipped plane of your back. 

Nestling your cheek into his chest, you say, "I think about it, too. All the time." 

"Uh-huh. Maybe we can make some more of those racy thoughts a reality. What was that one about me coming out of the shower?" 

You like this casual conversation and decide to try and make him laugh, stretching your words out low. "Well, you're coming out of the shower, and your towel slips open-" There, his bumping laughter at your over the top salaciousness. 

"That's awful. Most cliche, overdone, cheap porno concept ever," he chastens. 

"I never said I was creative." 

"What happens after that?" 

"The towel gets swept away by a sudden gust of wind, so I have to cover you. With my body." 

He bursts. There's no other word to describe it, his back arches with the force of his laughter and he holds his fist to his mouth, shaking and giggling like an idiot. 

"Where's the wind coming from?" he questions incredulously. 

"I don't know! The window?" 

"Oh my god," he says. He hooks his hand under your arm and pulls you up his chest, dotting a fond kiss to your forehead as you near. "And after that?" 

"Well, I told you that part." 

"Right, we hook up, but after that." 

You clench your fists, insecure. "After?" 

He brings the hand that isn't loving the length of your back to your face, stroking the skin under your chin with the backs of his index and middle finger, the flat of his fingernails sliding gently in a soothing back and forth. 

"I guess it's kind of like this," you answer eventually. 

"Does fantasy Eddie get another kiss, too? Or does he- do they stop, afterwards?" 

"It's a fantasy. The kisses never stop," you tell him. Adrenaline must linger in your veins; you can barely speak.

His expression becomes impassive, and a lull in the conversation blossoms. He searches your face for something and you don't know what, but he must find it, because he dips down and kisses you chaste on the lips. 

Your hands are back to tentative as they explore his neck. Your fingertips grace the curves of his throat and then sink behind, into the dampened mess of his hair. 

He stays chaste, dainty kisses, pulling back to dot them against your lips over and over. 

"Eddie," you say softly, "what are you doing?" 

"It feels like kissing," he says, tone a mirror of your own. 

You huff a laugh against his lips and kiss back. 

Later, after more kisses than you could ever count and an hour dozing on his chest whilst his hand rubbed circles into your tired back, you get dressed into your clothes that he likes so much and slip your goodie bag into the belly of your strappy purse. 

"Don't go over the top with it, alright?" he says, watching the green bud dissappear.

Jeans back in place and still bare-chested, Eddie sits on the end of his bed and scratches the back of his neck. You give him a grateful smile. "No, I won't. I actually think I might sleep really well tonight without it." 

He smirks. "I bet you will." 

Eddie walks with you to the front porch. You'd linger if you didn't have to go, and you're pretty sure he'd let you. There's a fraction of awkward silence.

"See you later," you say, walking sideways down one step, another. 

Eddie catches your hand. It takes you a second to realise what he's done: forced your crumpled thirty dollars back into your hand. Your heart misses a beat and you feel your stomach plumet – you hadn't fucked him for the free pot. 

"Eddie-" 

"My girl can't pay for her own supply. That's not happening." 

You take one step up. "Your girl?" 

He has the good graces to look nervous. "If you wanna be." 

You don't know how to answer. He looks pretty like this in the last dregs of sunshine, big brown eyes waiting patiently for you to say something, hand clutching his elbow. It doesn't feel entirely real. 

You step on tip toes and work your hands behind his neck to kiss his cheek before rubbing your forehead against his chin. "I'll come by tomorrow?" you ask hopefully. He relaxes under your weight.

"Any time you want. I'll take you some place nice, if you're up for it." 

You set back on your heels and pull away. "You don't need to go all fancy on me, Munson." You're happy to get stoned and eat burgers on the couch.

He looks you up and down, eyes catching on the flanks of your thighs before he takes in your face. His smile is almost dorky when he says, "No I- I think I do. I'll see you tomorrow, pretty girl." 

You nod with an aching smile and are a little ways away when he smugly calls, "Sleep well!" 

After the lesson he just gave you, you're sure you will. 

𓆩❤︎𓆪

thank you for reading! | my masterlist

please reblog if you enjoyed, I promise it makes a big difference! ♡

[bedsyandco]

𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰. 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞

pairing: gf!reader x jack hughes

summary: in which you and your boyfriend bake together !!

note: just a little blurb after a very long week. bf jack has me soft

"babe?" your boyfriend asks, turning to look at you from his position in front of the pantry

"yeah..." you say, glancing over at him

"how am I supposed to know which one is baking powder and which one is baking soda if you threw it out in containers?" jack asks, holding two small containers out in front of him

"they look different baby," you answer, and jack pulls a face, squinting at the two different ingredients and a soft laugh escapes you before you walk closer and take the baking powder out of his hand.

"this one is the baking powder," you say, placing a kiss on his cheek, causing his frown to melt into a soft smile.

jack puts the other container back in the pantry before walking over to you, resting his head on your shoulder and curiously looking over your shoulder as you measure out more ingredients

"what are you guys doing?" luke asks as he enters the kitchen, taking a seat at the breakfast bar

"baking cookies. chocolate chip. did you have a good nap?" you ask Luke, smiling at his messed up curls

"mm not really. it was one of those where you wake up feeling even more tired than before," he mumbles, crossing his arms on the counter and laying his head on them

"you wanna measure out the sugar?" you ask jack softly, and he hums, kissing your shoulder before moving to stand next to you

"one and a half cups," you say, handing him the cups and he carefully measures out the sugar, pouring it in the glass bowl.

you couldn't help the fond smile that grows on your face at the your boyfriend's intense look of concentration. it looked like he was analyzing game tape rather than baking cookies. that was something that you adored about jack, his ability to put 110% effort into anything and everything he did.

luke pretends to gag at the love sick expression on your face and you stick your tongue out at him, accompanied by a teasing glare.

you're attention is drawn to jack again when he tells you he's done measuring out the sugar and you take a teaspoon, scooping up some more sugar and throwing it in the bowl

"one and a half cups. and a little extra for love," you say in response to jack's confused expression

"that's not in the recipe book," your boyfriend argues

"it's in my recipe book," you respond

"seems wrong but okay," jack says and luke snorts out a laugh

"not that you would know if it's wrong. you can barely cook broccoli, never mind bake cookies," luke says and Jack glares at him

"first of all, no one was speaking to you. secondly I can make broccoli. babe I can-"

"I know. You've cooked it for me. Your broccoli is great baby," you reassure him and exchange an amused glance with Luke

you put the cookies in the oven, and set a timer, all three of you moving to sit in the living room, jack pulling you onto his lap

“did you guys not bake with you mom when you were younger?" you ask, your hands running through jack's hair

"we did. we were just too busy fighting over who got to lick out the bowl. so we didn't really pay enough attention to learn anything" jack says, his tone amused and luke lets out a little laugh

"well who won?" you ask

"no one really. quinny would always say we could have it and then make me and luke split it evenly," jack says, a fond smile on his face while thinking about his older brother

"sounds like quinn," your respond, and jack squeezes your knee

later on you go to the kitchen, grabbing three cookies from the cooling rack and retaking your spot on jack's lap, watching his expression closely while he eats the cookie.

"mm this is really good," jack mumbles and you grin

"yeah?"

"mhm. the little extra love really took it to another level," jack says causing you to giggle and he presses a kiss to your cheek

"I love you," you say, rubbing a crumb off his lip and he nips at your finger playfully

"I love you more baby,"

[pinkrelish]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲 | 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶A deleted scene from chapter twelve where receptionist!reader acts like a bimbo in front of Eddie just to rile him up. Written very tongue-in-cheek at the beginning.✶

NSFW — sexual themes, handjob, unresolved sexual tension, 18+

↳ start the story here to catch up!

[wc: 2.1k]

Heeding your checklist of chores, you idled at the workbench against the far corner of the wall. There were a few of the usual things you organized: placing nuts and bolts in drawers, facing products with their labels out, tidying small boxes, folding the end of the paper towel roll so it didn’t unfurl itself in the turbulent path of the oscillating fan. You bent over to toss cellophane wrappers into the waste paper bin, and took your time musing if the liner should be changed despite the little amount of balled up paper weighing down the bottom. Standing, you swept off the unsanded tabletop with your hands, and worked a crusty rag over an oil streak, making a mental note to call the laundry service to swing by a day early.

As you stepped away, you knocked a pencil to the floor. Its bright yellow body was impossible to miss, along with its excruciatingly long hexagonal roll carried by your elbow to the very edge, but you managed. You knelt to your hands and knees to retrieve the writing utensil, inspecting its broken tip. The graphite was missing completely, leaving behind an empty hole where it once was. An unfortunate accident. You rotated it a few times looking for other flaws—an honorable way to spend your time.

“You doin’ this on purpose?” gruffed out an annoyed voice behind you.

No need to check, you heard the amused twist at the corner of his lips. His left canine was probably on show, too. Not in a hurry to confirm, you gripped the pencil in your fist, and leaned forward, stretching in search of the missing lead before it was stomped into dust and potentially transferred from someone’s boot sole into a wealthy client’s car. You were thinking of them, really.

The floor was a rewarding oasis in the noonday sun baking through the warehouse windows. Your flat splayed hands and knuckles worked over the grit of dirt to inch your pursuit closer to the wall, drinking in the chill of the epoxy coated concrete cooling you down better than a 50 cent clear plastic cup of Kool Aid at a kid’s misspelled lemonaide stand. Though, the unforgiving flooring bit into your joints, and indented your knees with the netting of your pantyhose. But Eddie’s study did not sway to your shoe slipping off your heel. No, he was a gentleman. And as a gentleman, he praised the wealth of curves you put on display.

He used the heels of his heavy boots to drag himself from under a Mustang, thumping up beside you, wheels on the creeper rolling along the slick floor.

The lower you dipped your chest, the higher your skirt hem tickled the back of your thighs. In total innocence—truly giving your best effort to find the missing pencil tip—you tilted your hips to unimaginable degrees, presenting your ass to the point even your lower back side-eyed your act.

Smooth backs of fingers lifted the hem more. Eddie curled his index under your skirt, and assisted it to the crease of your cheek, following the change in nylon with his rough thumbprint as it wove denser around your thighs to hold you in. Tummy Control, it was advertised as. To a man who had seldom encounters with women, this meant very little to him, as did the change in texture. Though, curiously, he rubbed at it with interest.

“You’re something else, you know that?” But his voice was too playful to shame you, hardly traipsing through his throat to chastise. “I’m out here working my ass off, and you’re struttin’ around the garage in this lil’ piece.” The little piece in question was your corporate approved pencil skirt from a long forgotten temp job when your apartment lost two roommates in a breakup, and rent was past due.

Pandering to your audience of one, you shuffled two of the tiniest inches backwards, and steadied your hand on his outstretched leg. You bent at the hips, filling his large palm with a handful of your ass, and he admired you in a brush of fingertips near the innermost valley of your thigh, licking a divine chill up your spine. Playing along, you pretended to just notice him, assuming a sinless gasp, and following it with many airheaded inflections, “Oh! Didn’t see you there, handsome. Am I distracting you?”

The standing fan swung its head in your direction, sweeping Eddie’s bangs off his forehead in a brief burst.

You’d been on hundreds of dates, and not once had you been so deeply complimented by someone’s gaze.

Eddie dwelled in the distraction. He stroked his thumb over the fat, and traced his pinky along the hypersensitive crease before the swell which had your muscles tightening in a squirm. He was so close to the middle seam of the pantyhose. Perhaps he knew this as well, but didn’t care—he was just happy to be touching you. Laid out in the neon orange creeper, sun glancing off the packed garage, casting a glow across his puffy face. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, unbearably adorable grin—the type of candid expression showing how honored he was to look at you, so forthcoming and open. A trap, if there ever was one, luring you into picturing him twisted amongst your bedding on a late morning.

As he tracked his gaze over your backside, an aching reminder moseyed its way into his consciousness. Setting into a glare, he forced his way through any pleasantness lingering in his chest to tell you plainly, “Sweetheart, you’re fucking torturing me here.” You giggled, and he broke, falling victim to the squinch at his crow’s feet.

“You think I’m not torturing myself, too?”

“Dunno.” He craned his head back to check underneath the car for where each pair of boots were moving, and you peeped through the driver’s side window to keep tabs on the seated customers in the lobby. Once you both ensured there was no danger of being caught, he turned his attention to you fully. “You’re not wearing my favorite pair, so I couldn’t tell.” In case you weren’t sure, he wrung his hand around your leg, and drummed his fingers where there should be an easily accessible hole in your tights, where he could drag his fingers through your slick truth. His sorry features were tainted with remorse when your plush thighs weren't spilling out from the nylon; however, he drew his eyebrows in mock sympathy, and traced the area. “Could make these my new favorite pair, though.”

You about melted into a puddle of dumbstruck glee at his first foray into initiating dirty talk. “Yeah?” you stressed the word like he would—big smile and all. You raised the placement of your grip on his leg up, further, still going until the inside of your thumb threatened to assist what laid fat and heavy towards his hip. Car exhaust, pungent motor oil, and fumes swam in your head. Mind dizzy, you skimmed your nails over his heavy sack pressed tight against the seam of his coveralls. An implied line was drawn along your heat by his featherlight touch. You leaned over him, real close, chest over chest, knees spread because his hand encouraged you to do so. Mouth to mouth, considering kissing the dirt from his lips. “Wanna rip ‘em, and have me on top while you’re on this thing?”

Eddie moaned, and it wasn’t shy in the loud garage. “Want it so fucking bad, baby.”

A single ding from the bell atop your desk drew your attention.

Bodies paused, you both existed in the indecision of what to do. Eddie’s forehead wrinkled from his high brows driving his attention backwards, peering under the car again. The other employees of David’s Auto Repair shuffled around a Studebaker. There was no one inside to help the customer. What a shame.

Eddie lowered his chin in long clockticks, seeking you behind his heavy lashes and heavier gaze. His nose met the side of yours in an unrefined graze, dragging his chapped lips wherever he felt your smile. He kissed you hungry. Needy, desperate to fit the magnitude of his palm at the back of your head, and dirty your mouth with noses mashed together. He wanted you messy, he wanted you catching your balance on the creeper for the same reason his held sigh became your next breath, taking a pinch of your pantyhose over your pussy and twisting it around his fist to demonstrate his annoyance, as if the dull ache of your bottom lip against his teeth wasn’t illustrative enough. The peak of your whine and his approving hum tethered the snap of your tights and the squeeze he left on your thigh. Filthy warmth blanketed the top of your hand. Stifling hot, calluses running rough over your knuckles as he cupped your palm over his hard length, and curled your fingers around himself, kicking his hips up to really stretch the limits of your grip. Together, he guided you in a few teasing pumps along the base, ego growing at the pretty sound hitched in your throat.

“Hey, Ed!” Mr. Moore’s yell burst the bubble you two surrounded yourselves in. “C’mere, ‘nd look at this.”

It wasn’t an emergency. It could wait. There were enough mechanics on duty, they could figure out what they were gawking at, or admiring, or whatever it was they were doing. That was the justification behind your shared look with Eddie, and the tension holding you two apart faded within seconds. If anything it spurred you on. You raked your fingers through his hair, mussing the roots at the crown of his head, covering the side of his body with yours, stroking his cock. The consequences didn’t matter. He increased the pressure and showed you how he liked it when you looped your thumb and index around the edge of his fat tip and pumped him faster—

Ding, ding, ding.

The kiss slowed from the distraction, but you tried to keep going, staying in the moment with Eddie’s praise burning your cheeks. He was eager, he was close. He was whispering, “Feels fucking good when you—yeah—like that,” when you added the twist of your wrist to the end of motion.

“Ed!” Mr. Moore’s voice ruined the moment. “Where’d he… And wasn’t she at her desk a second ago?”

Ding, ding ding!

Your foreheads crashed together in a defeated groan.

Eddie sagged completely limp on the creeper. “Why do you do this to me?” He dropped his arms in a big shrug, kicking his legs out flat, throbbing hard in your palm. You curbed the urge to keep going and dragged your fingers away.

“Hey, you’re the one who started this,” you sniffed, sitting back to fan your face in effort to make yourself presentable while he considered rolling under the car for the next eternity to hide his blazing red cheeks.

“I was a good worker before you came along,” he argued, pointing at you with a nail outlined in grime. He did it with such vigor his shoulders curled off the creeper, sitting up to give you a real good talkin’ to. “I never did this sorta shit with anyone before you showed up. You’re bad for me. You drive me crazy.” Not an ounce of anger dared enter his tone, not even having strength to control his smile from going lopsided, dimpling, nose scrunching in a badly contained laugh. Never would he want you to think he was mad at you, even as a joke. He was soft like that.

Eddie broke first, and that’s all you needed to kiss him against the black Mustang door, thud on the metal deadened by his nervous hand coming up to brush his curls flat.

“You drive me crazy too,” you promised against his lips. “Now, try not to cum your pants when I bend over to get this trash, and have fun explaining to the guys why you can’t stand up for the next few minutes.” You cocked your head, and smacked your tongue in a hard, “‘Kay?”

He glared at your smugness. Glared at your backside, too. Scowled at his grip formed around the swollen length rising so obvious no matter how he fixed his legs, and surrendered to the humiliation of laying back on the creeper, summoning enough dignity to roll himself to the other side where a gaggle of boots scuffed the ground in search for him, and give some excuse that he was very busy fixing something and wouldn’t be available for the foreseeable future.

originally thursday's section in chapter twelve was split into three separate scenes. i was almost finished writing the first two when i took the section in a different direction and mashed all the important elements into the scene in the breakroom which did make the cut. truthfully i had only written to eddie's line of "wanting it so badly" and they would've gotten interrupted at that point (before any touching), but since this isn't exactly canon, i went ahead and had fun and made it a little spicier.

you might also recognize some imagery, lines of prose, or descriptions i salvaged from this piece and put into the final one!

[leonasimp]

❥ 𝐇𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐦!

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬: all dorm members x crush reader

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: slightly suggestive on leona's part, not proofread

𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚: i have homecoming tuesday so i decided to do it with the twst! plus reader's pronouns aren't stated!

After losing another yearly tournament with RSA, the headmage and staff had decided to throw a homecoming dance!

This being your first NRC homecoming, you wondered how great it'll be.

Walking through the hallways to go back to your dorm, you're oblivious to what the twst boys have in store.

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬:

he would probably ask you to be his homecoming date in the rose garden

will give you a single red rose

his face will be as red as the rose

i think this would be his first school dance because he was homeschooled

at homecoming, he would be blushing the whole time and uses his signature spell on anyone (ace) who teases him

he's really good at slow dancing!

while being your date, he also supervises to make sure no one is breaking rules

i feel like he'll work up the courage and kiss your knuckles

"Thank you for being my date to the dance, Prefect. This is both our first dance so I hope this will be a great experience for the both of us."

𝐀𝐜𝐞 𝐓𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐚:

he'd probably ask as soon as he knows about it

wants to do it before deuce

he will blush if you actually are willing then would be smug about it

at homecoming, he'll look really formal

laughs at couples yet acts coupley towards you

there's never a moment where you aren't on the dance floor either dancing crazily to songs or embarrassingly trying to slow dance

teases you a lot during it although deep down, he's shy.

you guy will probably tell the dj to play an inappropriate song LMAO

riddle won't be happy!

"ew, yuck! look at those losers over there, all sucking each other's faces. HA, that's hil-...WHAT- i never even tried to kiss you tonight! pfffttttttt."

𝐃𝐞𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐒𝐩𝐚𝐝𝐞:

he'd be a blushing mess!

he'd accidentally confess his feelings too :0

mans asked his mom for help and will end up getting you a bouquet of flowers

at homecoming, he's so awkward and tense but it's cute

he's also a gentleman and will willingly beat up anyone who tries to steal his date away

he will be so shy while slow dancing too, he just knows that ace is somewhere laughing and filming him

you'll definitely will have to take the lead

pls don't laugh if he steps on your foot, he's trying :(

i think by the time the dance ends, he'll give you a little kiss on the forehead

100% calls his mom and tells her EVERYTHING

𝐂𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝:

will 100% film himself asking you and your reaction

i feel like he'll be standing with a huge cringe poster that has a pun line to ask you to homecoming!

he'll help you with your dress/suit and getting ready. you guys are matching

his magicam will be FILLED with videos and pictures of the dance with 98% of them being you.

you'll never be bored at all the whole time and you'll have so much confidence with him!

slow dancing will be comfortable and nice yet he'll probably be a little shy

"WOAH! Look at my amazing date, go prefect! #dancingprefect #nrchomecoming #caycaysdate."

𝐓𝐫𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫:

i think he'd be really cringe about it

like he'll say a dad joke and ask you to the homecoming LMAO

during homecoming, he's a gentleman

he'll even pay for yummy snacks and drinks

probably a secret dancer, i think he'll dance pretty good

he'll crack jokes and he'll laugh if you fall while dancing but then help you up

the slow dances good? it'll probably be so romantic then he'll crack a dad joke---

"my dad jokes aren't that bad. these dance jokes really get you in the rhythm..hahaha that was the last one. yes! i promise."

𝐋𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐚 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐫:

probably wouldn't ask you to be his date until you're at the dance. like he'll be sleeping outside the gymnasium and get jealous at some dudes trying to dance with you or ruggie will make him do it

mans will look so fine like damn

he's great at dancing, esp slow dancing

i wonder if he'll hold you close to his chest while you dance

100% a tease the whole time and will definitely kiss your face or hand

he'll be smug with that mf smirk

will show you off to everyone

ruggie will tease him and you, probably will film to get blackmail

by the end of your night, you guys will sneak off to the botanical garden and cuddle or more :0 <3

"no one'll notice if ya ditch, cmon herbivore. let loose, will ya? it ain't nice to reject a prince. "

𝐑𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐡𝐢:

he'll get you a bouquet of freshly picked dandelions. they don't look REALLY pretty but it's the thought that counts :(<3

he'll play it off cool while asking you but is freaking out

during homecoming, he's probably wearing one of leona's suits or one of his own which probably has a few holes in it but he looks very good

you guys will always be near the food and you'll probably have to be on look out while ruggie steals snacks

i bet ruggie is a really good dancer but when it comes to slow dancing, he isn't all that good

he'll be shy and might step on your feet LMAO but he's cute so it's okay

"Oi, mc! come stand guard while i grab these slices of pizza for us!"

𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥:

i feel like he'll ask you and play it off as him not wanting you to be the only one without a date but he just really wants to go with you

he'll be wicked shy asking you and during homecoming but will play it cool, esp in front of the first years

his tail will never stop wagging like he'll be such a happy bby

i think he may be good at slow dancing

he'll growl at anyone who looks at you badly or hungrily too so yay

"hey, wanna go to the homecoming? the others seem to have found dates so i didn't want you to be alone."

𝐀𝐳𝐮𝐥 𝐀𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐨:

he'll be panicking to ask you out. before he can ask you out, floyd will probably say something about him wanting you to be his homecoming date

during homecoming, he'll look very clean and formal yet he'll be panicking. dw, he'll loosen up throughout the night

slow dances will be good, i feel like he'll be MARVELOUS at slow dancing

he will NOT let you waste your money or his on the snacks and drinks there. instead, he'll make you guys go to the mostro lounge and have stuff there

"oh prefect, why spend your money on these things when you can get free luxury at the mostro lounge?"

𝐉𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡:

he'll get your favorite snack and ask you out

a huge smile will be his face while he asks and at the homecoming

he'll be such a gentleman the whole time

100% will call you things like darling, love, etc.

he's a good slower dancer and will caress your back and HAUHDBDHDO

i bet he'll give you a little smooch the forehead just to see you get flustered

you guys probably sneaked to the bathroom and ate mushrooms (good or bad ones, you decide)

"fufu, you're quite adorable when you blush, darling."

𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐝 𝐋𝐞𝐞𝐜𝐡:

once he heard about the dance, you were already his date. you got no choice cuz mans will cling onto you

he's the life of the party so you'll never be bored the whole time

why do i feel like he'll show up with an animal print suit?

he'll be clinging onto you the whole time

if he has mood swings, just do a goofy dance and give him kisses then he'll be fine

if you attempt to slow dance, it's just floyd picking you up and swaying you.

"shrimpy~! i love this song! let's go back to the dance floor!...nono! food can wait, we gotta dance!"

𝐊𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐦 𝐀𝐥-𝐀𝐬𝐢𝐦:

he'll have jamil help him through a huge party to ask you

you guys will have such a fun time but always remember that jamil is watching

he'll be so excited over the littlest things

sm compliments and he'll probably give you some jewelry to go with your dress/suit

slow dancing is so cute with him. he doesn't really know how to do it but every time you guys mess up, you both will burst out in laughter.

"mc this is amazing! are you having fun? im having fun! yay, what should we do next?"

𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥 𝐕𝐢𝐩𝐞𝐫:

kalim would 100% help him ask you out whenever that'll be him accidentally saying something or forcing you two to go together!

you'd have to remind him that he is supposed to relax and not look after kalim

he'll make sure you drink and eat enough

he's a great dancer so try and keep up with him LMAO

he's great at slow dancing but will blush obv

he'll be smiling too awhh

mans will 100% appreciate that you were able to make him relax for a few hours

"thank you mc for tonight. i don't normally relax like this so i appreciate it. you're a wonderful date."

𝐕𝐢𝐥 𝐒𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐭:

he'll probably give you a whole thing of roses and shit then ask you out

he's a gentleman yass

now..there's no doubt that vil looks better than you. although he helped you get ready and everything, he still looks better. you just gotta deal with it

you guy will probably be the most popular date that night

he'll make sure you guys dont consume too much sugar

dancing with him is fun and you'll even get some dance tips and critics

slow dancing, he'll 100% take the lead and teach you

rook will be crying at how beautiful you guys are

"perfect! you're a natural already but just remember to keep your head up and be confident, prefect."

𝐑𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐇𝐮𝐧𝐭:

mans will go ALL out for asking. he'll stalk you and gain intel on your favorite stuff, write a love poem, and all that

when he sees you, non stop compliments. i think he'll even go far as to crying

he'll be the perfect gentleman and will always hold + kiss your hand

on the dance floor, he'll always be holding onto you and dancing

slow dancing, he's great! like it's really shocking at how good he is

"oui tricker! oh, you look so marvelous. this beauty is so overwhelming. look at me weep in your presence of beauty."

𝐄𝐩𝐞𝐥 𝐅𝐞𝐥𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐫:

he'll be so shy while asking you but will act manly

probably will carve a heart out an apple

he'll look all pretty cuz vil dressed him up but once out of vil's side, he'll fix it up to his liking

he'll talk in his country accent with you

he's wild on the dance floor esp with cotton eye joe

slow dancing, he's so nervous and will act goofy about it but when vil glances at him, he'll be so serious about it

"pfftt, this is how y'all snobby rich folk dance? oh no, he's lookin' at us."

𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐚 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝:

you're gonna be the one asking him out with the help of ortho

if you manage to convince him, you're gonna have to help him get ready

at the dance, he'll be so shy and scared but probably after some monster drinks, he'll be fine

you guys will probably sit all the way in the back of the bleachers and play games

if you manage to slow dance, his hair will turn pink as you both sway back and worth

"a-ahahah- d-d..do we have to be with the normies?"

𝐎𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐨 𝐒𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐝 (𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜):

he'll probably find you sitting alone and ask you if he could accompany you

you can teach him how to dance and slow dance

he'll say you're pretty and proceed to try and make you dance with idia HELP

"mc! you look so pretty but you're sitting by yourself! would you like to try dancing? idia put a new code to make me dance good."

𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐮𝐬 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐚:

he'll ask lilia for help on trying to ask you. on one of your walks, he'll shyly ask you and will be so happy when you do. he'll tell lilia all about it when he gets back

you guys will be the most popular couple and it'll be a little overwhelming but great

he doesn't really know a lot of dances but when it comes to slow dancing, well, he is almost fae king. you'll take the whole dance floor away but also good luck with dancing cuz he's tall!

you'll probably end up leaving and going stargazing

he gives you little smooches on the forehead

"haha, child of man, stop giggling. im trying to give you a blessing!..no, im not just giving you a "smooch" on the forehead."

𝐋𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞:

lilia will probably go the traditional route and get you some roses and ask you out formally

he's old so he knows a lot of dances but it's funny to watch and teach him modern dances from today

he's very great at slow dancing, he has had practice. will probably compete with malleus and his date for slow dancing

"fufu~ am i rocking it, like the kids say?"

𝐒𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫:

he'll ask malleus and lilia how to ask you but will regret it cuz they'll tease him

i hope the loud music will keep him awake!

he's decent at dancing and is pretty great at slow dancing cuz he dances with his animal friends!

he's the number 1 gentleman for the night

he'll only blush when malleus and lilia tease him

"father, stop! mc is my date, we're just friends! no no! ah, please be quiet..ahh"

𝐒𝐞𝐛𝐞𝐤 𝐙𝐢𝐠𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐭:

im not sure how he'll be your date but you'll probably ask him to dance and you guys'll dance battle HELP

he'll see you worthy and will only be with you as long as the young master is in his sight

he'll laugh WICKED LOUD if you fall or step on his foot

if you're a malleus simp then that's good cuz that'll probably be your whole conversation

he wont seem like it but he's actually really happy to have you as a date

"you human! you seem rather decent in the midst of the dance battle, let us be partners at this dance."

[ioveartfilm]

✿   𝑗𝑗𝑘 𝑝𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑏𝑦 @ioveartfilm

★ 𝐉𝐣𝐤 𝐩𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐢𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐝𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬!! + (𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐩𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐦𝐠𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐬𝐞)

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[oespirito]

IAN WINDHELM é filho de MELINOE do chalé VINTE E CINCO e tem VINTE E SETE ANOS, a tv hefesto informa no guia de programação que ele está no NIVEL II por estar no acampamento há DEZESSETE ANOS, sabia? e se lá estiver certo, IAN é bastante SIMPÁTICO mas também dizem que ele é MELANCÓLICO. mas você sabe como hefesto é, sempre inventando fake news pra atrair audiência.

wanted connections + headcanons

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐎

Filho de Melinoe e um médium charlatão, o menino foi usado como um magneto de espirito desde pequeno. O pai o usava como um amuleto de sorte, o usando para atrair mais espíritos e com isso mais clientes para as suas consultas. Aos poucos com o sucesso de seu pai, Melinoe se enfureceu com a forma de que estava usando de seu filho e cessou o magnetismo espiritual dele por um tempo causando fúria em seu pai. Depois de um acidente o que trouxe a Ian sua arma e também seu primeiro acidente grave com seus poderes, o sátiro responsável por ele conseguiu o detectar. O cheiro de seu pai era tão forte que afastava os monstros dele e assim causando duvida no sátiro responsável a ele. Seu poder de manipulação de espíritos não era bem desenvolvido na época, apenas a proteção que os espíritos tinham com ele estava presente, mas isso não era o suficiente para que outras pessoas percebessem seus poderes. E sempre havia escondido todos seus problemas familiares então não era como se o sátiro pudesse imaginar como era o seu pai. Ao sair do hospital, foi parado por Aracnae que detectou a sua presença no hospital. Depois do contato com sua arma, seu cheiro agora estava mais forte. O monstro atacou a ele e seu pai, jogando o carro de seu pai para fora do precipício. O menino conseguiu se escapar por pouco, conseguindo assim ser convencido a ir para o acampamento meio sangue. + biografia completa.

𝐏𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒 e 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐒

ECTOMANCIA

O semideus é capaz de controlar e manipular espiritos como se fossem criaturas feitas de espectrum em sua volta, podendo os usar como escudo ou de forma ofensiva, vísiveis em forma de vultos negros em sua volta, ou até mesmo fumaça em torno do vulto. A quantidade de espiritos usado depende do decorrer da batalha, podendo começar apenas com os espiritos que já comumente protegem Ian em sua volta e vão aumentando ao decorrer da luta, sendo puxados por seus "espiritos pessoais" como se fosse um magneto. Quando a utiliza, os espiritos que sobravam o importunam por um tempo após o uso antes de sumir para o além, então não é comum ver ele usando muitos, porque também pode causar falta de energia no semideus. O que também faz com que o semideus tenha que se isolar depois de uma batalha tendo que lidar com as consequências de tantos espiritos em sua volta. Além de que já que não tem total controle de sua habilidade, se ele usar muito é capaz dele começar a cuspir sangue por ferimentos internos, o que faz com que ele se afaste ainda mais. Alguns espiritos ficam em torno de Ian quase a todo tempo quando não estão sendo usados, sendo invisivel para aqueles que não consegue enxergar espiritos, mas sempre falando ou se esbeirando por Ian em pequena quantidade, o que causa também a melancolia no semblante do semideus.

HABILIDADES

Previsão: Em formato de espirtos que contam a ele coisas. Nem sempre são verdade, não sendo muito um previsor confiável, mas dependendo dele, alguns são mais confiaveis que outro. Sentidos Aguçados: Os espiritos que ficam em sua volta o protege e aumenta seus sentidos podendo ouvir mais distante fazendo com que o espirito o proteja sem nem mesmo ele tenha visto o perigo.

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀

Um chaveiro em formato de uma lamparina torno de uma chave muito importante para o semideus se transforma em uma lampirina de ferro grego com uma chama que consegue aumentar os poderes do espiritos à sua volta fazendo com que eles se reunam em volta como se fosse uma onda magnética ainda maior. Também pode recuperar alguns dos espiritos que puxa podendo salvar Ian dos próprios espiritos, às vezes, mas também pode trazer mais espiritos para o mesmo. A arma foi dada por Nyx durante um incidente onde seu pai, um charlatão, queria atrair mais espiritos para o menino, o pai já sabia de seus poderes e dos espiritos que o atormentavam então para ele foi uma boa idéia deixar o menino preso dentro de um cemitério com apenas dez anos. Assustado com tudo, era óbvio que coisas ruins iriam acontecer e ele sabia disso, então quando lobos apareceram por entre a floresta perto do cemitério, um objeto surgiu por entre os destroços. Uma lamparina, um objeto que os animais pareciam estar mais interessados do que em Ian servindo de certa como uma proteção. E para Ian um estranho magnetismo dos animais noturnos para cima dele, sempre dispostos a sentir o cheiro e a essência da lamparina.

[issominerva]

Abaixo do read more você pode encontrar algumas conexões que pensei em desenvolver com a Minerva. Porém, por favor, não se limite à elas. Se quiser desenvolver algo, e acreditar que a Minnie se encaixe, estou totalmente aberta! Pode colar no meu chat que a gente desenrola 🤍 e joga de ladinho

CAV. ADRASTEIA ICHOR: Minerva e muse se conheceram durante a subida dos degraus, ou melhor, se reencontraram ali. São da mesma província, e muse muito provavelmente conhece a história da família da Minnie, mas não se deixou abalar, e na escadaria já se aproximaram. [ closed ]

CAV. CAIN WHISPERCLAW: Alguém que conheceu Minerva depois do parapeito, e por algum motivo decidiu ajudá-la nos treinamentos físicos. Ela, sem sombras de dúvida, precisa ganhar mais músculos e melhorar seu desempenho no combate corpo a corpo, e essa pessoa resolveu ajudar. Pode ser um acordo entre eles, e Minnie ofereça algo em troca, ou pode ser apenas uma alma caridosa nesse jardim de espinhos. [ closed ]

CAV. VAELLA RHYSLING: Uma figura mais experiente em Basgiath que reconheceu o potencial de Minerva. Essa pessoa a orienta e a incentiva, formando uma conexão valiosa de mentorado e mentora. [ closed ]

CAD. FERGUS GARRET: Alguém com quem Minerva forma uma parceria acadêmica sólida. Eles se ajudam mutuamente nos estudos e compartilham um interesse mútuo em aprender e aprimorar suas habilidades. [ closed ]

MUSE E: Minerva e muse acabaram por desenvolver uma amizade improvável, já que se trata de um colega cujos pais estiveram envolvidos na rebelião. Ela dá pouca, ou nenhuma, atenção para a Batalha, mas isso é impopular, por isso a amizade entre eles pode ser considerada improvável. A confiança e lealdade mútuas podem crescer à medida que eles compartilham suas histórias e enfrentam desafios juntos. [ open ]

MUSE F: Rotulada como um "alvo fácil", quando informada dos desafios, ela teve um pequeno taquicardia, e seu primeiro desafio foi com muse. Não teve tempo para se preparar, mas apesar disso, saiu com um resultado positivo, o que fez muse odiá-la ainda mais. [ open ]

MUSE G: Apesar de Minerva ser considerada fraca, ela e muse sempre parecem estar competindo, quando entram no tatame. Seja provocando ao outro, quando realizam os desafios com outros adversários, ou então dando o máximo quando são os rivais da rodada. Essa rivalidade intensa cria uma dinâmica interessante e desafiadora entre eles. [ open ]

MUSE H: Alguém que tem uma aversão às marcas e às estigmas, e expressa seu desprezo por aqueles que carregam tais sinais. Isso cria conflitos frequentes entre muse e Minerva, que não se deixa intimidar. [ open + precisa ser alguém não vinculado à rebelião. ]

MUSE I: Uma pessoa que constantemente duvida das habilidades de Minerva, questionando se ela merece estar em Basgiath. Essa antipatia mútua adiciona uma tensão constante. [ open ]

MUSE J: Muse quebrou algum osso de Minerva logo nos primeiros dias em Basgiath, durante os desafios ou mesmo fora deles. Desde então, esse relacionamento é, no mínimo, complicado. [ open ]

MUSE K: Muse descobriu que Minerva é realmente boa na efusão de poções e venenos, e apesar de não poder provar isso, acredita que o mal estar aleatório que sentiu em determinado dia, tem dedo da Hybern. [ open ]

MUSE L: Em compensação, muse, que também descobriu das habilidades de Minerva, vem tentando adquirir determinadas efusões com a primeiranista. Podem fazer um acordo mutuamente benéfico, assim como ela pode apenas dissimular e evitar muse. [ open ]

MUSE M: Alguém que admira Minerva de longe, mas não teve coragem de expressar seus sentimentos. Essa paixão secreta pode ser revelada ao longo da narrativa. [ open ]

MUSE N: Inicialmente, muse nutre hostilidade em relação a Minerva devido à reputação de sua família. No entanto, ao longo dos desafios em Basgiath, ela pode conquistar o respeito e, eventualmente, a amizade de muse. [ open ]

CAD. HYLE FLORENT: Ela é uma primeiranista e ela obviamente sabe que é muita burrada se envolver com qualquer outro cavaleiro, e isso realmente não passava por sua cabeça até ver muse sem camisa, suado do treino... Apesar de Minerva saber que não deveria, ninguém é de ferro, e uma coisa vai levando à outra, até passarem uma noite juntos. [ closed ]

CAV. GRAYSON CHALMERS: Ela insiste que é karma, não poderia ser outra coisa. Só o karma para fazê-la parar na asa onde muse é líder, tornando-se subordinada dele. As desavenças são antigas, e está nítido a disposição de muse em tornar os dias dela um inferno, mas Minerva não aceita simplesmente abaixar a cabeça, retrucando ordens que lhe são conferidas e aumentando a tensão entre eles. [ closed ]

[queenimmadolla]

Baby Blurbs 💛

can i request eddie & tequila with a genre of your choice ✨

𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐩, 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐬𝐚𝐝 (are you guys okay???)

Eddie stared out of the window of the van, cigarette held to his lips as he took a deep drag, ash, crumbling down onto his pants.

He was parked outside of The Hideout. Had been for a couple of minutes now. There were only four other cars in the makeshift dirt parking lot, one of which was yours.

You were the reason why he was here in the first place. Had been running away from him the whole day, not that he’d been chasing you. Eddie had been avoiding you, too.

Until you’d walked into the diner, earlier tonight, and seen him with his friends and another band. You’d immediately walked out and while he hadn’t gone after you then, Eddie knew a talk was needed.

You hadn’t been at your house, hadn’t been with your friends and he just so happened to pass by the bar when he spotted your car.

Exhaling the nicotine cloud out the window, Eddie rolled it up and stepped out of the van, dropping the cigarette to the ground and putting it out with his shoe as he stared at the neon sign flashing in front of the entrance.

Eddie had a bad feeling about this but he couldn’t say he’d had a whole lot of good ones in the last couple of months.

He trudged forward, pushing the heavy wooden door open. There were hardly any occupants, a band of teenagers he didn’t recognize playing on the stage, reminding him of Corroded Coffin’s earlier days.

There was a couple in a corner booth, a few stragglers in the tables near the stage and Eddie found you at the bar, perched on a stool with your chin in your hands and a shot glass in front of you.

He swallowed, tucking his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket for the short walk towards you. 

You didn’t stir when he sat next to you, didn’t even glance up at him. Your big eyes housed a sadness that made something in him ache, the corners of your lips just slightly turned down.

He shifted in his seat, prying his hands out of his pockets to rap his knuckles against the bar top, rifling through his brain to come up with something, anything to say.

“What’s your poison?” he finally asked, jutting his chin towards the full shot glass in front of you.

You didn’t respond, still staring at all the bottles lining the back of the wall, but not really taking them in. Acted like he wasn’t there.

So, Eddie reached forward and took your glass, bringing it up to his nose for a whiff, “Tequila. Nice choice, your stomach is─”

“I think we should take a break.”

You whispered it so quietly that Eddie almost hadn’t heard you. Almost.

He was shocked, mouth parted slightly as he felt his blood run cold.

You finally looked at him, head barely turning and the pain in your gaze was enough to hurt Eddie, have tears lining his own eyes.

Your eyes were red, having already cried your heart out while you drove mindlessly around town after you’d walked into your favorite diner to see Eddie with his other life, his bandmates you were familiar with, other people you weren’t and his arm around a girl who wasn’t you.

Bleach blonde with deep blue eye who fit his aesthetic, looked like she belonged with him. 

The realization hit you hard, not because you hadn't seen it coming, but because it had always been just a couple of paces behind you since Eddie had committed to music.

He’d started touring around the area, then out of state. It wasn’t so bad at first, he’d call and he was still your mushy boyfriend, then suddenly the calls became less frequent, until you barely got them. 

And the drugs. Eddie started using more, relying on them. When he did come home, he was usually passed out,  if he wasn’t hanging out with anyone who wasn’t you.

You fought a lot. Not just arguments, it was yelling and screaming and tears and doors slamming with feelings hurt.

Having him home didn’t feel like you thought it would. You were lonelier and sadder than ever and he was just on the other side of the bed.

What you’d seen today was just the topping on the shitty cake.

“I’m so sad, Eddie.” You stated, a hot tear trailing down your cheek and slipping under your chin. You didn’t bother wiping it, not when you knew more would come, “I’m so sad because I miss you so much and you’re right here.”

“We can work on it, baby. I love─” He tried, breath hitching but you squeezed your eyes shut, pressing your lips together to try to keep from full on bawling again because you needed to say this.

“I know, Eddie. I know you love me. And I love you. I love you so much. I want to marry you, I want to have your babies, I want to be with you all the time. But we’re not good for each other right now, Eds. I love you so much it hurts. Love isn’t supposed to hurt, not like this.”

Eddie was upset, too. While his tears had yet to leak, they flooded his eyes and you were surprised his waterline could even keep them at bay. He looked like he was in agony.

“No, baby, we can fix this. We can—therapy. We can do therapy. I’m sorry I made you feel like this but we can─”

“It’s not just you, Eddie. I know I don’t make you happy.” It killed you to say it outloud, your worst fear and something he’d reassured you would never be possible. That had been when the two of you were younger and naive enough to think love could save anything, that love was enough. If that  was true, the world would be a much better place.

But it wasn’t. Because love isn't enough. Love couldn’t save your relationship with Eddie. 

Maybe you could.

“That’s not true─”

“Eddie,” Your eyes pleaded with him not to lie to you to save your already wounded heart and he squeezed his eyes shut, fingers rubbing at them and smearing the wetness around his eyelashes.

It’d be easy to paint Eddie as the villain, the downfall, but it’d be a lie. You didn’t make him happy anymore, just like he didn’t make you happy. You couldn’t imagine how annoying all your pestering was, the equivalent of a boyfriend blowing up the phone of some club you were at while out on the town with your girls, having the time of your life.

Eddie couldn’t enjoy the fast life and wild nights with his friends because you were constantly worried, constantly leaving messages for him at hotels and when you were with him, you were so in your head that you also weren’t present with him. Not fully enjoying any of his concerts or the after parties he’d take you to, and you picked fights just as much as he did. 

Eddie was entitled, and had earned the right to enjoy the scene he’d clawed his way into. You were upset because you didn’t fit into it, just like he didn’t seem to fit into your life anymore. You knew nothing was going on with that girl you’d seen him have his arm around at the diner, she was probably a part of the other band he was with. Should he have put himself in that situation? Probably not. Should you have let the man who bought you that shot talk you up? Probably not. Probably shouldn’t have flirted back with him because you were vulnerable, regardless of how coy and innocent it had seemingly been. Eddie was vulnerable, too.

You were both just unfortunate victims to circumstance. 

“I know I don’t make you happy anymore. It’s okay. I call you all the time when you’re away, even when I know you’re not up to anything because I’m lonely. We don’t even really talk when I do. And I’m lonely when you’re with me, too. Now, we don’t talk when you’re away or here. And sometimes that makes me feel happy, relieved. I know you feel the same way, Eddie. It’s okay.”

Eddie put his face in his hands, silently weeping against his palms because you were right. All the two of you did lately was fight, be it passive aggressively or not, and avoid each other. Couldn’t fight if you weren’t talking, it was a relief to know neither of you was actively hurting each other with harsh words and accusations. Eddie never wanted to hurt you. He loved you.

“So, let’s just take a break, okay? See what it is we really want. I know this sucks, but I'm not mad at you. I'm not mad at this. It’s life and it sucks, but there’s not much else we can do unless we want to keep forcing this until we hate each other. I don’t want to hate you. I don’t want to hate us.”

“I love you,” he croaked out, pulling his face from his hands to reveal red eyes with tear trails staining his cheeks, “I love you so much, I want to marry you, too, and I want you to have my babies and I want to wake up to you every day of my life.”

Your smile was a watery one and you knew if you stayed any longer, you’d stay. And you and Eddie would have a ticking clock over your heads, a deadline, a guaranteed end to your relationship in a big, fiery ball of resentment and hatred.

So, you wiped your face, gathered your bag and stood up. You took Eddie’s face in your hands and pressed the most tender kiss to his wet cheek, allowing your lips to linger as your heart begged you to stay, to feed into each other’s misery, let it all fall apart and watch if it meant you still got to be Eddie’s girl.

Another tear fell from your eye, though it landed on Eddie’s skin instead of yours.

“I love you, Eddie. I hope someday it’ll be enough. It’s just not right now, baby.”

You pressed your forehead against his, the two of you crying together for a moment before you pulled away, “Take care of yourself, Eds, okay?” 

Your thumb wiped some of his tears away and you gave him one last smile before you went for the door.

Eddie watched you until you were gone, and he stared at the door long after.

It was only when the bartender made a last call announcement that he stirred, downing your shot before he crept out of the bar, fully intent on grieving for the rest of the night, the rest of his life.

[esthernal]

                            ㅤ۫ㅤ੭   𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒎   é   seu   𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒎 ,                                                                                                            𝐓𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐈  .

𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒐.

Ꞝ     𖥦     𝐈 .  qual o nome do seu personagem? há alguma razão por trás da escolha?

esther elizabeth grace cavendish ; não é um nome incomum, especialmente para a época em que nasceu (1904). esther é um nome bíblico, indo de acordo com os ideais cristãos de sua verdadeira família, e elizabeth e grace nomes comuns entre a alta sociedade inglesa. cavendish é um sobrenome até que popular, mas tem ligações tanto com a aristocracia quanto a burguesia. 

Ꞝ     𖥦     𝐈𝐈  .  quais os objetivos dela em eden?

no momento, nenhum em específico além da sobrevivência. se cansou da vida que levava, sem destino certo e casa fixa, e decidiu que retornaria para seu clã e seita, que são duas instituições pelas quais tem grande respeito (ainda que tenha andado com grandes intelectuais e revolucionários, certas partes de sua criação não a deixam, como a obediência e reverência). o que quer no momento é se alimentar, de humanos de preferência, e se entreter de maneira tranquila. 

Ꞝ     𖥦     𝐈𝐈𝐈   .  cite, pelo menos, 3 inspos que combinam com seu char.

daisy buchanan (the great gatsby), penny lane (almost famous), alma (phantom thread), isabelle (the dreamers), claudia (interview with the vampire), céline (before sunrise), naomi lapaglia (the wolf of wall street), satine (moulin rouge) & rose (titanic).

Ꞝ      𖥦     𝐈𝐕   .  descreva seu personagem em 5 aesthetics.

cantos da boca curvados num sorriso ladino e sujos de sangue, casacos de pele, taças de champagne, estantes de livros e álbuns gigantescas, joias herdadas. 

Ꞝ      𖥦     𝐕   .  qual aspecto do clã escolhido você mais gostaria de explorar com o personagem?

o talento e a beleza serem uma maldição para os toreadores! até então, a esther não sofreu precisamente com isso, na verdade sempre a manipuladora, mas seria muito interessante alguém usar isso contra ela, visto que é uma fraqueza nata ao clã.

Ꞝ      𖥦     𝐕𝐈   .  como seu personagem lida com os humanos e sua alimentação?

a esther é fascinada com humanos! ela adora o que fazem, quando se diz a respeito de arte e cultura, e é por isso que sempre fez amizade e se apaixonou por artistas! no entanto, nesse papel de musa e amante, sente que devem algo em troca e isso é, sem dúvidas, o sangue deles. ela tem certas éticas sobre, como nunca fazer nenhum sofrer e não criar laços que os prendam a ela (muito menos concretizar o abraço), mas se sente muito melhor consumindo sangue humano e se recusa a provar do animal.

Ꞝ      𖥦     𝐕𝐈𝐈   .  liste os tipos de interação que mais te agradam e que gostaria de desenvolver na dash.

eu adoro interações grandes! paragraphs mesmo, com cinco parágrafos ou até mais, não só chats! interações que realmente envolvam situações bem trabalhadas e que cheguem a algum lugar, não só chats que são um eterno “fazer sala” (não que eu me oponha!! eles costumam ser bem engraçados!) hahaha.  gosto muito de interações entre mais de um char, em grupo, e acho sempre muito divertido e que desenvolvem ainda mais o personagem.

@nesfantpontos​​

[harkonnen-darkness]

『 𝖂𝖍𝖞 𝖆𝖒 𝕴 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖙𝖍 𝖎𝖙? 』

- Why am I worth it? -

◈ Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen X f! Reader

┄ Short OneShot to my fanfiction 𝔏𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔅𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔰. ┄ Words: ca. 2k ┄ written at 3am last night, bacause I'm not sleeping anymore. 🩸

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭! 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐢 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞, 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞!, 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 (𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝-𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡), 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐕𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐫, 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐲 & 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐳𝐲, 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐧𝐝 🖤, 𝐞��𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞?

𝐈𝐭 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐕𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐭, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐍𝐚-𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐞𝐧, 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭. 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐱𝐡𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐫𝐞𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐞. 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞, 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐈𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐕𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐨. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧. “𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝.” , 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐳𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐟 𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥. 𝐇𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲, 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐟 𝐰𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 (𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫) 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐛𝐮𝐧. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐳𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐭. 𝐈𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤. 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧? 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬. “𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡… 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞.” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐰𝐚𝐲, 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞…

𝐓𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝. 𝐀𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐬, 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥, 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐩. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭, 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐭. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐬. 𝐀𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧. 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐲𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐞 '𝐍𝐚-𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬' 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐝. 𝐎𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐭.

“𝐋𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐰𝐡𝐨'𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧.” 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐞. 𝐎𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫, 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫, 𝐚𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐤𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐄𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. “𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭.” , 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐚𝐰 𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. “𝐀𝐬 𝐈 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐍𝐚-𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 [𝐲/𝐧] [𝐲/𝐥/𝐧], 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞! 𝐁𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞!” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐲. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐧, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐝��𝐬𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. “𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠?” 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠. “𝐖𝐡𝐲… 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐦𝐞?” , 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐞𝐝, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦. “𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐦 𝐈 ‘𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐲’ 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐚 𝐍𝐚-𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬? 𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞?” 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭.

𝐇𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝. 𝐇𝐮𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 (𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮) 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐭. 𝐇𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮. “𝐁𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞.” 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. “𝐍𝐨, 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐥𝐲. 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞!” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐤𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐭. “𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐦𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞'𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬, 𝐰𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐮𝐬. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐲𝐚𝐥.” 𝐇𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐀𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐆𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐢 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟? “𝐓𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮!” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤. “𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧. 𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐈𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐌𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞!” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐬𝐭. “𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐞𝐨𝐩𝐥𝐞, 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨… 𝐭𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢𝐜𝐞.” '𝐄𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞,' 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐲.

“𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐍𝐨, 𝐈 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐀𝐬 𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞, 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫. 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭!” 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐇𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐜𝐜𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐲, 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝'𝐬? 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐧 ��𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡. “𝐈 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬. 𝐁𝐮𝐭, 𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫. 𝐁𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐤𝐬. 𝐁𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧, 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝.” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐝𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬. 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐥𝐲. “𝐍𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲.” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝. “𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐥𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭. 𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮… 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐭 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧.” 𝐇𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐯𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐬, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡. “𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐢𝐞!” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐤. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐲. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨.

𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐟𝐚𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐜 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝, 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐢𝐭, 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭. 𝐇𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐈𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐱𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭, 𝐧𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐕𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐨𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭.

𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐲 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐤𝐞, 𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝. 𝐀𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡.

𝐅𝐞𝐲𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞. 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐅𝐞𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧, 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐤𝐞𝐩𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥. 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭, 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐤𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐇𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐢𝐭. 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧𝐨𝐰, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝. 𝐓𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐣𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩.

𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐛𝐲 𝐚 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭, 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐭𝐢����𝐠 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝. 𝐈𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐆𝐢𝐞𝐝𝐢 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐞. 𝐍𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐟𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐧, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐲𝐦𝐛𝐨𝐥, 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐬. 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝, 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐢𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡. 𝐇𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭. 𝐇𝐞 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐮𝐭, 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐛 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐝. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥! 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬, 𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐩. “𝐀𝐡, 𝐧𝐨! 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞?” , 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐞𝐝.

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐮𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐞𝐝𝐮𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫. 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩? “𝐈'𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐨 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭!” , 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐫𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐝. 𝐈𝐧𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝. “𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐞𝐭 𝐞𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡.” 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐥𝐲, 𝐥𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲. 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬. “𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭.” , 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐦𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐧𝐨 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐝𝐞 𝐮𝐩 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧. 𝐖𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐧.

𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐡𝐲, 𝐬𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. 𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐲𝐬. 𝐎𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜. 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐞𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐞. 𝐇𝐞 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧, 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐞𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐥𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲, 𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐢𝐦. 𝐇𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐬𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐦, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐕𝐥𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐢𝐫ˊ𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬, 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞.

[sumsumstrashbin]

Hiya! I have another request. May I request one for James where the reader is in a different house (Preferably Hufflepuff cause that's mine, but if you prefer to keep the reader's house neutral (like it can be any of the other 3) idm either) where she's on the Quidditch team, and they beat Gryffindor, making James really sad cause it means the Gryffindor lost the Quidditch Cup that year (they're in 7th year in my head) and a few days later, Sirius comes up to her after a class and asks what she did to James, and Sirius explains that he's been really sad since the match, and the reader takes it upon herself to cheer James up, Sirius having 'accidentally' mentioned that James has a massive crush on the reader... I just have a lot of Marauders' oneshots.... sorry if the plot is quite specific.

𝐠𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐮𝐢𝐭 ~ 𝐣𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐟𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭!

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: 𝟕𝟖𝟎

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐠𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐪𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐩 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐥𝐞𝐩𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚 𝐮𝐩𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞?

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

The stands of the Quidditch pitch were roaring with life as you dove down on your broom, catching the snitch and ending the last match of the year. The Hufflepuff crowd cheered and waved banners around in excitement, while the Gryffindor spectators groaned and accepted their disappointing defeat. As your team was announced the victors of this year’s Quidditch Cup, you soared down to the field with the rest of your teammates to celebrate.

Amid the celebrations, you couldn’t help but glance over at the Gryffindor team, who was mourning their loss. James, your supposed “rival” looked completely disheartened, his dismay evident on his face. You exchanged a glance, and offered him a sympathetic smile as a truce, but he couldn’t return favour.

He trudged off the field with the rest of his team, and you shrugged off his reaction, continuing to celebrate with your friends.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

A few days had passed since the last game, and the parties were finally beginning to die down. However, your housemates insisted on one last bash to end off the year together before most of you graduated.

You were on your way back to your dorm after dinner to get ready for the party when you bumped into Sirius in the hall. You hadn’t seen him or any of the other Marauders since the Quidditch cup, though you hadn’t noticed that until now.

“Oi, Y/n. I need to talk to you.” Sirius spoke, putting his hands on his hips.

“What about?” You questioned, folding your arms.

“What have you done to James?”

You stared at him in confusion, racking your brain. “What do you mean? I haven’t done anything to him.”

“Merlin, I’ve never seen him so down before. All he does is mope around our dorm.”

“He can’t seriously still be so upset about the match.” You replied in disbelief.

“Maybe if we had lost to Slytherin he’d be less glum, but of course he had to lose to you.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean? What’s the difference?” You asked defensively.

“How could he not be upset when he fancies you as much as he does?” His eyes widened at his own statement, and he smacked a hand over his mouth. “Forget I said anything. Enjoy your party.” He rushed off without giving you time to react, leaving you absolutely dumbfounded in the corridor.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

As you got ready for the party, you couldn’t stop thinking about what Sirius said. Did James really have a crush on you? How had you not noticed? You thought this whole time that his playful banter with you during matches was just team rivalry.

You decided to confirm whether or not what Sirius said was true, grabbing your broom on the way out of your dorm.

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

James was busy laying in bed and sulking when he heard a knock on his dorm window. He walked over, inspecting the source of the sound. As he looked out, he spotted you, sitting on your broom and hovering right next to the glass.

“What in Merlin’s name are you doing?” He questioned as he opened the window.

“I’m here to get you off your ass.” As you spoke, you flew right through the window and into his room, hopping off of your broom.

“You’re bloody insane, you know that?” He said, fighting back the smile that was curling the corners of his lips upward.

“You’re the insane one. You’re so upset about losing that you haven’t had the courage to face me since the match. That’s not very “big brave Gryffindor” of you, James.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. “That’s easy for you to say. You’re the one that won.”

“Sirius might’ve let it slip that you fancy me. Is that true?”

Surprise and panic flashed across his face, though he tried to play it cool. “What? That’s not true in the slightest.”

“Is that so? Because I’ve never seen you so deeply upset about losing before.”

“So you admit that you watch me?”

“I never said that. I’m just saying, it’s hard to not notice.” You shrugged. “But anyway. I came to invite you to the Hufflepuff party tonight. Like, right now.”

“And why would I be interested in attending this party?” 

“Oh, shut up and get dressed.” You quipped. “I’ll be waiting outside of your common room.”

“Fine.” He said with false reluctance, grabbing some clothes out of his trunk.

You mounted your broom, flying out the window but remaining near the opening. 

“Oh, and James?”

“Yeah?” He turned to look at you.

“Dress nicer than that. It’s a date.”

─────── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

𝐚/𝐧: 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐨…?