#I hold my pen between my middle and ring finger

[thetealsky]

Moving a little too fast || Spencer Reid X fem!Reader

This was it. The moment he'd been fixating on since he bought the ring three weeks ago. They were both sat at the round table going through a case, everyone else having cleared out an hour before. She'd insisted she was close to a breakthrough and he'd indulged.

This was it. He took one last glance at her, totally engrossed in crime scene photos, absently flicking a pen between her fingers.

He stood, smoothed out the wrinkles in his trousers, cleared his throat, and got down on one knee. This was it.

"Sweetheart I-"

"Spence?"

His head swiveled up as he held up the ring between his fingers. There was a beautiful little crinkle in her brow, her eyes flicking between him and the ring.

He'd rehursed his speech thousands of times at this point, the words burned into his iodetic memory.

"I- ever since your first day at the BAU I felt this unexplainable connection. Even when I could barely string a sentence together around you I could just feel-" Hands cupping his brought him out of his monologue.

"Spencer, baby," her smile was soft but the crinkle remained, "god forbid I interrupt being told how loved I am, but what is this really about?" One hand came up to cup his jaw.

"I- what? I'm, I'm proposing." This wasn't how it was supposed to go. His fingers pushed down on the ring. He couldn't feel the scratch of his cardigan, suddenly stiflingly hot.

"And in another circumstance I'd say your doing an amazing job but, baby, why are you proposing? We've been together less that a year." She let out a soft chuckle, thumb absently stroking his cheek.

He looked down, fiddling with the ring in his hand.

"I just - I just thought -" He just wanted to have a future with her. He just wanted to know she'd be there when he woke up.

She could see his big brain whirring behind his eyes. She slipped out of her chair and met him on the floor. Pulling his body into a relaxed hug, she gave relief to his previously bent knee and his hands were able to drop into her lap, ring trapped between his palms.

"Take your time baby." She said, kissing his temple and then simply holding him.

They stayed there a few moments, breathing slowly syncing up.

"I -" Spencers voice cracked slightly, "I thought if we got married, if we were serious, then you wouldn't leave." He couldn't look at her, head down in shame.

"Oh Spence, look at me baby." Softly tilting his chin up to eye level, "I'm not going anywhere. I would love to marry you some day, but I want that to be because we're both ready"

"I'm sorry, your right. It- It was stupid." He mumbled.

"Hey. It wasn't stupid. And it's important for me to know that you need reassurance. What if we meet in the middle. I was gonna tell you next month but my lease is nearly up. Think you could make room for me among your books?"

"Really?" There was the Spencer she knew, shoulders high, hands naturally finding her waist, hauling her closer in excitement, "I'd get to see you every morning when we wake up." He was almost vibrating now.

"Sounds perfect to me." She sat up and straightened herself, "think it's time to head home, why don't you hide that very pretty ring you got me, save it for when we're ready?"

Home. He looked up at her grinning form. He was already home.

[keeksandgigz]

Hey Keeks! So I was day dreaming while I was looking at my ring that has a Lilith sigil on it and now I’m thinking about Witchy giving Eddie something like it

Im mixing these two @rebelfell hehe here's a little vignette, for some reason Eddie doing crystal shop deliveries makes me think of Kronk. <3

Hope u enjoy!!

You pick up the phone attached to the wall.

"Genesis Records. Eddie speaking, what's up?" you smile as you imagine him leaning against the wall, holding the landline phone between his ear and shoulder as he gets a pen and paper to take notes in case it's some important shipment information.

"Ed, it's me" you huff out, and you can feel the smile from the other side of the receiver, he likes it when you call him at work, his heart picks up- maybe at the chance that he might have to sneak off upstairs into his apartment when you happen to have coordinated lunch breaks.

"Hey, witchy, I'm about to go on my lunch, I'll see you upstairs in five-" you're quick to interrupt him.

"Wipe that smirk off your face, I'm not on my lunch. I called you because I need your help" you're overwhelmed and don't seem to be in the mood for his shenanigans. You can sense his smile dropping immediately, a slow cast of concern washing over his face.

"What is it, baby?" his tone is suddenly muted, like a child that got scolded for talking too much from his teacher.

"We're understaffed. It's just me and Naradea right now, we need someone to do deliveries, we're incredibly backed up with them" You purse your lips together, hoping for a decisive 'yes' "I'll send you a list of addresses and I'll pay for gas and stuff, you just need to drive around town and deliver some packages- crystals, potions, the works" you huff out, half- stressed.

It takes him a second to think about it "Matt can cover me, I'll be over in a second lemme grab my truck and I'll meet you in the courtyard?" and you exhale a sigh of relief as he hangs up and gets his truck over to the back entrance of your store.

You run out, a couple small boxes in your hands "Thank you so much for doing this, I'll uh... make sure you're rewarded plenty tonight" you whisper against his cheek, placing a small kiss where the warm air of your breath hit.

He grows red at the seductive invitation, slightly growing somewhere else as well, unable to keep his head from reeling at the thought of what would be waiting for him tonight.

"Consider me intrigued" he smirks against your lips, taking the boxes from your hands and giving you a delicate kiss as he fills up the back of his truck with boxes.

You show him a clipboard with the names of the witches and their addresses "See, you've got Arla on Lombard, Clemensia on Castro, Athena and Arachne both on Third street and so on. They should be placed in order so you don't have to go back and forth around the city" you point at the purple colored page.

"Am I gonna get hit on by any of these ladies, 'cause if I am you gotta warn me- can't be too charming if they're trying to fuck me" he snickers, you hit him on the arm "ow," he moans.

"'Kay then" you take off your ring, the one with the sigil of Lilith that sits on your middle finger "give me your pinky, this will tell them that you're already spoken for"

You slip the ring on his pinky finger "Witchy if you wanted to propose to me this is a weird way to do it, y'know?" he laughs "Am I just cattle to you?" he moans dramatically as he gets in the car, rolling down his window.

"Cutest cattle I've ever seen" you scrunch your nose as you lean in the open window to give him a kiss "I'll see you tonight at mine?"

"You bet, and you can tell me more about that reward you were talking about" he smirks, puckering his lips for a kiss.

"I'll go home to sharpen my knives, then" you joke, biting your lip.

"Mmm, kinky" he caresses your forearm "See you tonight, gorgeous" he says, before driving off.

"Hello Ms. Arla, my name's Eddie I will be delivering your goodies for all your witchy needs today" he says, in his charming tone, as he watches the old lady reach into her pocket to give him a candy that seemed to be at least 50 years old. Grandmas are all the same after all.

"My god, Clemensia you look divine today" he flirts with a close friend of your aunt Hilda as she blushes and lightly smacks his arm. He offers her the box full of her deliveries "your witchy goodies m'lady" he bows and is not allowed to leave until he's had tea with her.

During his rounds he's offered treats, biscuits, readings of all kinds as he politely agrees, unable to say no to these nice ladies who all seem to know him by name.

His last delivery is someone named Aphra- he's never met her before, maybe a new addition to the 'witch community' as he calls it.

She ordered two boxes of stuff. He carries them up a steep flight of stairs and rings the doorbell.

Aphra isn't old, she isn't young- she looks ageless, and that, for some reason, scares Eddie.

"Lady- uh- Ms.- your witchiness- Aphra?" he stutters in a bout of embarrassment as he continues "my name's-"

"Edward. You're the young witch's human boyfriend" she hums "She got in a lot of trouble for allowing you to be a part of our world" He remembers you being deprived of your magic until your trial. Two months of seeing you mope around your apartment.

He wasn't sure what to say.

"Despite that you stuck by her, even through your bout of confusion. Let's call it you being... 'lost'" she snickers as she reaches into the pocket of her jacket, extracting a token made out of black metal.

"Bring this to your witch, as a token of my appreciation. Have a good evening, Edward" she brings the boxes inside with ease, and closes the door behind her.

He looks at the black token. Ridged with the sigil of the coven- three indented stars.

Eddie plays with it on the way to your house, rolling it on his leg, wondering what it might mean.

When he gets to your house, much to his dismay, he has to stop you from jumping on him. The curiosity is eating him alive. He shows you the black token, and all color seems to drain from your face.

"Holy shit" you utter "Holy shit!" a bit louder this time.

"Wha- what? What is it, witchy?" he asks, as you guide him on your purple couch. Your breath seems to be knocked from your lungs.

"Aphra is the head of the coven" you're playing with the indentations of the token, Eddie mentally cringes at the absolute shit first impression he made with what appears to be the madame president of all witches, or something like that.

"This token is her blessing" you have tears in your eyes, Eddie's still confused.

"Blessing for what?"

"Blessing to get married" you shrill, and Eddie's heart almost falls out of his ass.

[sorchathered]

Sweet Home Texas pt 1.

Summary- it’s here! Chapter one of my new series/ my submission for my birthday Rom-Com challenge! I am straying from the plot of Sweet Home Alabama a bit but I hope you all love it!

Pairing-Jake “Hangman” Seresin x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin), Bradley Bradshaw x oc (Ella Mcree Seresin)

Warnings- language, drinking, eventual smut

Stepping out of her shitty rental car into the dimly lit honky tonk parking lot Ella Mccree can already feel the pain of a headache forming behind her eyes. She flew out from San Diego on a red eye to get to this shithole, filled with enough anger to fly the damn plane herself. She swore when she was here the last time that she would never set foot in this damn town again and yet here she is, pushing through the sweaty bodies of horn dog cowboys and navy pilots to find the bane of her existence.

He’s here of course, holding court by the pool tables, looking every bit the cocky asshole he presents himself to be. He’s always been a bit of a douche, that was part of his appeal; well until it wasn’t. She couldn't help the way her stomach flipped as she looked at him, the memories flooding her mind would make anyone blush. First kiss, first time, her first everything had been with Jake Seresin, he was supposed to be the only one, but that hadn’t worked out as planned. Nothing had where they were concerned.

She squared her shoulders, his pretty boy looks didn’t work on her anymore and she was here in this tacky bar for a reason, he wouldn’t distract her. In her ridiculously expensive pumps and form fitting black suit she marched over to him and dropped her briefcase in the middle of the pool table, a chorus of what the hells ringing out as she rounds on him, perfectly manicured finger poking him in the chest, shock clearly written all over his face before he schools his features. She’d caught him by surprise; good, maybe this time he’d actually listen.

“Jake! You stubborn redneck hick, I swear to God if I have to cut your damn hand off and sign these papers myself I will.” If he was phased by her colorful vocabulary he didn’t show it, simply throwing back the rest of his beer and sitting it on the corner of the nearest table as he looked her over, the mischief in his eyes evident in his gaze.

“Hey baby, it’s been a while. How’re things at home?” He said with a grin, knowing it would absolutely irritate the shit out of her, he loved riling her up, it was almost like he had a death wish sometimes but then again being an ex fighter pilot just confirmed that.

“Hey. Baby?! Are you kidding me right now?! Oooh!! You are the most annoying person on the planet!” She said shaking her head jerkily and balling her hands into fists, she needed to get it together. There was a reason to be here, get it done and get the hell out of this town, don’t let him distract you Ella you’re better than this.

Someone behind her said something to the extent of damn I like this girl and out of the corner of her eye she caught sight of a brunette woman sending impressed looks her way. Well at least someone was entertained, she thought.

She leaned across him to grab the papers from her briefcase, his body stiffening under her and she knew despite his cool exterior she had him rattled. She ran a hand across his uniform top, noticing the falter in his grin as he blinked at her and slammed the stack of papers into his chest.

“I have sent these damn papers through your lawyer 4 times in the past 6 months and they keep coming back unsigned, if you are so incompetent that you can’t use a pen, maybe you shouldn’t be allowed to fly a jet, given your lack of a brain. Sign the damn papers Jake, it’s been 3 years. You very clearly aren’t interested in being a husband so why the hell won't you just divorce me?”

Everyone around them seems to go quiet at this, none of his coworkers even knew he had been in a serious relationship, let alone married.

He sticks a toothpick between his lips and pretends to mull over her words as she taps her heel on the sticky bar floor. She already knows what he’s going to say, the same bullshit line he’s given her their entire life. “You know damn well why Ella Bella, because I promised to love you til the day you die and as far as I can tell you’re still breathin’ so we’re still married.”

She rakes a hand through her wavy red hair and gives him a look that could burn the world down. “If I could go back knowing what I know now I’d have never made that damn promise. Stop holding me hostage and sign the damn papers, I’m not leaving town until you do.” She yanks up her bag and stomps out towards the exit, everyone in the group parting like the Red Sea to let her out. Meanwhile Jake still seems cool as a cucumber, completely unbothered as he lines up his next shot and chuckles as he watches her walk out of the bar.

“Uh you planning on giving us an explanation Hangman?” Natasha Trace is the first to speak up, she does enjoy seeing him brought down a peg from time to time but she’s pretty sure she’s seen him more upset over what was for lunch at the dining facility than he is right now.

“Oh that? Eh she’ll be alright, Ella is all bark and no bite. She knows how much I love her, just gotta remind her is all, she and I will be just fine when she comes to her senses.” He seems awfully sure of himself, but she’d noticed something he clearly didn’t. A big ass diamond ring on her ring finger, no wedding band in sight. She has a thought to say something but thinks better of it; let him crash and burn all on his own and maybe invite the girl out for lunch and some gossip if she can find out her number. Jake’s hometown is just a few miles out from the Kingsville Navy base they’re stationed at, maybe an old friend of his has her info, she files that away for tomorrow’s problems and grabs another drink.

Ella is heated, she clumsily fumbles her keys by her car door as she curses, she knew he wouldn’t go for it but damnit if she didn’t hope he’d come to his senses. They’d been split for almost three years?! What was keeping him from letting her go? Pride? Idiocy?! She didn’t have time for this, she had plans of her own and they didn’t include begging her delusional husband for a divorce for the millionth time.

Her phone began to buzz in her pocket as she finally got the car unlocked and settled into the seat. She heaved a sigh out and put on her brightest smile, answering the face time call with fake enthusiasm.

“Well? How’d he take it?” the raspy voice on the other side of the line says, tan skin and bronze hair and those puppy dog eyes she loves so much gazes at her over the screen, and he can tell she’s pissed. “About as well as I thought. I’m gonna be here a few more days I reckon, maybe I can get one of them to get him to pull his head out of his ass, because it definitely didn’t work like I hoped.” She says the last words with a waver in her voice, she hates that she’s tearing up over this.

Bradley Bradshaw sighs over the screen and runs his hand over his face, he knew it wasn’t going to be as easy as she thought. “Need me to come down there? I can hop a flight? We can order a pizza and get trashed.”

As good as that sounds, his presence would only make it worse, and they both know it.

“No baby, it’s ok. I’ll see you soon alright? I just need to go to my hotel and sleep, I’ll try again tomorrow. Maybe call Natasha and see if she can help me with some intel though? She seemed pretty interested in what was going on, and might be an ally.”

He knows Natasha Trace well, and she definitely would be very helpful if he asked, so he nods his head in agreement and ends the call with I love yous and promises of a back rub when she gets home.

He knows the bomb that’s going to go off as soon as Seresin finds out everything, but he also knows the real reason Jake won’t give Ella what she wants. It’s guilt plain and simple, and Bradley isn’t interested in watching his fiancée get hurt by his former rival anymore. Only Ella knows the whole truth, but are either men ready for it?

A/N- this is gonna be a doozy y’all, prepare for these three to be put through the ringer! Next week we’ll get some more on Jake and Ella’s backstory and why they fell apart, hope you enjoyed chapter one!

🏷️ tagging- @attapullman @seitmai @bobgasm @sailor-aviator @jessicab1991 @roosterforme @bradshawssugarbaby @mynameismckenziemae

[ghxstlike]

i love loving you

leon kennedy x reader content/warnings: petnames (baby), leon being awkward, leon antics, awkward flirting, teasing, cigarette mention, leon’s music taste, anxiety mention, nightmare mention. authors note: i am down bad for this man. he is rotting my brain and i am very okay with it. these are personal headcanons :)

leon's smile always starts out as a smirk. it's very cute.

always has a hand on you. around your shoulders, holding your hand, lightly gripping your thigh. he wants other people to know that you're taken- you're his.

he is a slightly possessive and jealous man. if someone is flirting with you, his eyes are narrowed at the person who is way too close to you, and his leg is bouncing with anxiety.

sooner or later, he saunters over to the two of you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

"hey, baby," he whispers in your ear, but it was loud enough for the person in front of you to hear. you shiver, slightly leaning into leon's embrace.

when you first met leon, you were immediately attracted to him. so, of course, you started to flirt with him.

though, he isn't dumb. he knew you were flirting with him (he was flirting back, after all). he teased you for it, obviously.

"are you flirting with me?" he says with a smirk. leon leaned down to get closer to your face, tilting his head.

people say that leon is a flirting machine and is good with women. no he is not.

i mean, yes, he does flirt a lot, but he is not good with women at all.

you found it very charming and cute when he asked you out. a huge smile was plastered on your face, staring at the nervous man in front of you.

“i- hm, i was just- fuck. i was wondering if you, i dunno,” he clears his throat. his face is slightly pink, but he thinks that his face is a deep red by how hot his body feels. “do you want to go get dinner with me sometime?” he manages to get out. he sighs out of relief- he did it. he feels a drop of sweat roll down his temple onto his cheek, shoving his clammy hands into his jean pockets.

of course, you said yes. i mean, who wouldn’t?

y’all aren’t gonna like this, but he definitely smokes cigarettes.

i mean c’mon, he was born in 1977. though, he didn’t willingly start smoking. his friends in high-school peer pressured him.

he tried to stop smoking before his first day at rpd, but it failed miserably. he felt antsy and he was more on edge- angry. he hated that he got easily frustrated with people. he’ll try again someday.

he smells like cigarette smoke and leather. occasionally he smells like coconut & patchouli (his cologne).

always has a stress toy with him. i like to think he wears a fidget ring on his middle finger or thumb. playing with a stress ball or twirling a pen makes him more focused and calm.

bites the inside of his cheek when he’s deep in thought. he doesn’t even notice that he’s doing it, it just happens.

his music taste is decent!

he doesn’t listen to the radio, thinks 2010 music is trash and it’s annoying.

it’s mostly a combination between 90s alt & grunge and early 2000’s rock. his favorite band is radiohead.

always gives eye contact. never looks away when you're talking, especially when you're talking about your long day at work or something you're passionate about.

as we all may know, he's bad at communicating his feelings. you can tell he's getting better with it, but it's still a challenge for him.

he never talks about raccoon city. you only found out about this from overhearing a conversation he had with claire. you brought it up one time, but he fell silent and never looked up at you. ever since then, you never talked about it with him.

mans suffers with frequent nightmares, so obviously he never sleeps. when he's with you though, he doesn't have any nightmares. so, he stays up until you're ready for bed.

when you're out late, he's waiting for you in bed.

leon loves to get his hair played with. he loves the feeling of your nails lightly scratching his scalp.

if you take meds, he always reminds you to take them. he also watches you take them, just in case.

leon always wants the best for you. he just loves you, so so much.

[mintkookiess]

Miles Morales headcannons #3

Miles as your annoying younger brother.

He steals a lot of your shit. Hoodies? Gone. Pens and markers? it's already inside his bag. Those rings you just bought? Already on his fingers. He doesn't tell you, he just grabs what he finds and you magically see it with him the next day.

The type of sibling that would scream out loud for no reason. You know when you're both just chilling on the couch watching TV, and he suddenly yells a "HOYAAA" this earns him a smack on the head from you

You both have a strong bond tho, so when he found out he was Spiderman, he just knew that he had to tell you first.

You wasted about 10 minutes cackling when he bought the Spiderman merch

"Who tf buys their own merch?" "Bro stfu"

You'd find sketches of your sleeping face on his notebooks, with the whole mouth open, drool down your chin look.

You may have burned that notebook without telling him

...he found out.

Whenever the two of you fought, mama rio comes to save the day by smacking the both of you in the heads and saying that the two of you can't come outside of your room until you make up

So really, what happens here is the two of you sit on your respective beds, arms crossed, eyes glaring at each other and you just have this silent competition to see who'd cave in first

He always did

Like after a few minutes of the glaring contest, his lips would start to quiver as he tries to hold himself back from laughing

You follow right after until you're both laughing your asses off

you vibe to every genre of music. Rap? You both fuck up the lyrics and just start babbling and spitting saliva everywhere gross. Kpop? The two of you end up memorizing the choreographies and would sometimes have a dance off (but it always ends with someone accidentally hitting the other). Classical? Please you two would play imaginary instruments, with fully exaggerated "posh" faces while twirling around yalls room like ballerinas

as kids, he's easy to get lost in huge places like the mall or the amusement park and you're left with the responsibility to find him

once you do find him tho u just follow him around secretly until he gives up and starts crying in the middle of the crowd

"What took you so long?!" "I'm so sorry Milesss I tried so hard to look for you."

Sometimes you'd distance yourself to pretend that he indeed got lost

u fucking demonic child

always the first to know about anything and everything about his life tho

he trusts you with it so ofc

you're the first person he introduces Gwanda to

you already know smth kinda stirring between them

u try to scare off Gwanda at all times, or try to make it awkward between you two

like this girl aint stealing ur lil bro away from u what?

More of my Miles content here babes!

(if yall wanna be on my taglist feel free to let me know!)

[violet-lazer]

First Kisses : Papal Edition - Secondo

Content / Warnings : Secondo/Reader, Mature (Language, Suggestiveness), Gender-Neutral Reader, 1.5k words. Thanks, please enjoy! (AO3)

Your first kiss with Secondo.

With a good amount of trepidation coursing through your veins, you lift your hand to the door of Secondo’s office and give two firm knocks, attempting to ignore the knot in your stomach as you await a response. After a moment or two, his voice rings sharp and clear through the wood-panelled door.

“Enter.”

You gather yourself and push open the door, taking a few short steps into the room. Secondo, seated at his desk, clearly in the middle of some paperwork, lifts his head to meet your gaze. Placing his pen down, he steeples his fingers and leans forward slightly as he addresses you.

“Ah. Welcome. Do you know why I have summoned you?”

“No, Papa,” you lie.

Even underneath his paint, you see him quirk an eyebrow. He hums, reaching into a drawer, retrieving his phone and placing it on the surface of the desk, screen facing you. He beckons you to come closer, and you reluctantly oblige. Reluctantly, because you know you’re facing your own oblivion in bright illuminated text. Since last night you’ve been living in desperate, foolish hope that what is currently happening might not happen. As you lean in close to assess the damage, a small, involuntary groan escapes you. You’re looking, as you knew you would be, at the message thread between you and Secondo on his personal, private number.

This was Terzo’s fault. You’ve been known to blame many of your personal problems on Terzo, but this one was indisputable. 

“Personally,” he’d said, leaning over to purr into your ear as the two of you watched Secondo conduct mass, “I think you should tell him.” 

From your latecomers’ vantage point at the back of the chapel, you’d torn your eyes from the altar, from Secondo, and looked at Terzo incredulously. Oh, here we go. Terzo is doling out romantic advice again. Perfect.

“I don’t want to do that,” you’d said. You don’t. You do. 

Terzo had rolled his eyes at this, and tutted condescendingly.

“Have it your way. I would advise doing something to halt your descent into madness, though. When I am battling my feelings-”

“What feelings?”

“When I am battling my feelings,” he continues, “Here is what I do. I draft a little paragraph on my phone. I go into excruciating detail about my wants and desires. Let it all out, you know. I imagine sending it to them. And then I delete it. It is almost as good as an honest conversation.”

“Right,” you’d said dismissively, fixing your attention on Secondo at the altar once again and ignoring your quickening heartbeat. What a silly idea.

And there you were just a few hours later, lying on your bed, phone aloft in front of your face, typing furiously in the text box below Secondo’s name. The content of the messages between the two of you before tonight had been consummately professional- indeed, he’d only furnished you with his number last week due to the number of errands you’d been volunteering to run for him of late. But what you were writing here was the absolute antithesis of professional. You’d paused to assess your work. Utter filth. A culmination of every idle thought, every active fantasy you’d had about the man in the months since you’d first laid eyes on him. 

You wonder how he’d respond if he could see this, if he only knew. Would it take him completely by surprise? You’ve been so, so well-behaved around him. It’s been nigh impossible for you to figure out how you’d even approach the idea of flirting with Secondo, and the embarrassment of being knocked back may just destroy you. So you’ve simply not bothered to try. But Lucifer, what you’ve thought. 

Satisfied, you’d pressed backspace, holding your finger down and watching your most depraved dreams disappear before your very eyes-

And then you’d dropped your phone on your face before you’d finished, hitting you square on the nose and making your eyes water. Scrambling to pick it up, you’d turned it over to see something that made your heart drop out of your arse. You hadn’t finished deleting. And you’d pressed send. Possibly with your nose, which was impressive.

Immediately, without even registering how much of your message had made it to Secondo, you’d done the only logical thing and turned your phone off in a panic. When in doubt, deny. Perfect strategy. Hey, maybe you’d even get away with it.

As you look at Secondo’s screen, it becomes apparent you haven’t gotten away with it. Until about twenty seconds ago you’d been clinging onto a vague hope that the letter of summoning that had been pushed under your door this morning was concerning…literally anything else. Alas. Your crime is staring you in the face.

More specifically, what is staring you in the face is your own words. You suppose it could have been a lot worse, really. Most of the evidence was gone, and what remained-

Papa, I need to tell you how much I want you to p

“When I gave you my number,” Secondo says, dragging your attention away from the screen and back to his stare, “it was for business, not pleasure.”

“I know, Papa. I’m sorry.” 

Even if you could play it off as the start of a message that wasn’t about what you wanted Secondo to do to you, you absolutely can’t excuse the fact that you’d sent it at half past eleven at night. Absolutely inappropriate for a work-related enquiry.

Secondo barely acknowledges your apology, merely continuing to hold your gaze. You fall into an uncomfortable silence.

You reckon you could make a clean exit if you vaulted out of the window. Enthusiastic sprint, hand on the windowsill, over and out. Secondo’s office is only on the second floor, you’d probably be alright. It would be preferable to this.

After what feels like an eternity, Secondo speaks again.

“Well?”

“...Well?” you repeat slowly, somewhat at a loss.

He leans back slightly in his chair, exuding nothing but sheer, relaxed confidence.

“Well? Does that sentence have an ending?”

It does. It has a very creative ending. Is he…asking to hear it? The thought simultaneously thrills you and terrifies you. There’s not a chance you can repeat what you wrote so unashamedly last night, not to his face. Not when he’s looking at you like that.

You nod. It feels less committal. Secondo tilts his head just a fraction.

“It seemed very important. If you want something, you should be direct about it. Here, I will go first. I want you to tell me the ending to your sentence. And I want you to be honest.”

Ah, fuck. At present, you don’t think you have the capacity to lie. All you can think about is…

“It said,” you begin before you can help it, “I need to tell you how much…I want you to push me against a wall and kiss me.”

You’ve done it now. There’s a wave of adrenaline crashing over you, a mix of nerves and sheer exhilaration, and your hands are trembling. You realise you’re holding your breath. Secondo’s response causes you to exhale sharply. 

“And is that a sentiment you stand by this morning?”

“Yes.” 

“Close the door.”

Without thinking, you obey, turning to retrace your steps. As you approach the door you hear the scrape of Secondo’s chair on the floor; when you push on the heavy wood you count footsteps behind you. The door shuts. You turn. Secondo is right behind you, and still he barely slows his pace as he closes the last remaining distance between you. You let him back you up against the door, and in an instant his mouth is on yours. Secondo kisses you fiercely, tongue pushing into your mouth, his body pressed hard against you. You kiss him just as relentlessly, sinking back against the door, desperate to feel Secondo’s weight pinning you where you stand. Gloved hands find your hips.

Eventually, you part, breathless. Secondo’s eyes are ablaze as he looks down upon you, and it might be the delirium talking but you could swear he has the faintest suggestion of a smile playing across his lips. He leans in, giving you one gentle, final kiss. Then, he shifts, taking a step backwards and releasing his hold on you. You miss the pressure. 

“I would say it is worth being direct, hm?” he says. “Next time I expect you to be more forthright.”

“Next time?” you say, still bracing yourself against the door. There’s a chance your legs might still give out. Secondo hums.

“I will permit you to contact me outside business hours,” he says. “As long as you are confident in your desires. As long as you are…explicit.”

He reaches past you to grasp the doorknob, waiting patiently for you to peel yourself off the door before easing it open. Politely, he gestures to the corridor beyond.

“You are dismissed.”

You nod shakily. The past ten minutes have been something of an adventure. As you cross the threshold of Secondo’s office, you hear his voice, soft, behind you.

“I look forward to your next message.”

So do you. As you make your way back to your room, you pull out your phone and finally turn it back on. You’ll show him just how explicit you can be.

[tooxmanyxships]

This is just 2k of pure pain.

You're warned.

⚠️ Major character death ⚠️

It's been a year. One horrible year since Daniel died. 

 

To say Lando was a wreck when Daniel died is an understatement. He was simply inconsolable.

 

Daniel was his reason to smile. Now that reason was gone. 

 

The only person who could understand him a little bit was Max.

 

Max who loved Daniel just as much as Lando did, but in a different way. 

 

The whole grid can still remember the guttural screams both boys let out when they watched Daniel's crash. 

 

The absolute devestation that fell over the paddock. 

 

Carlos had caught hold of Lando, trying to hold him up.

 

It took more than one person to hold Max back from running towards Daniel's demolished car.

 

It was clear. 

 

Daniel wasn't gonna get out. 

 

Not alive at least.

 

The races for the rest of the season were canceled after that. 

 

Nobody felt like getting close to their cars anymore. 

 

 

"Marry me." 

 

Lando spit out the sip he just took from his drink to stare at the older man. 

 

"W-what?!" 

 

Daniel chuckled, but it sounded nervous. "We're in Vegas. We've been together for what... 2 years?" 

 

Lando scratched at his curls, "2 years and a half." He murmurs, swatting at Daniel's arm when he chuckles. 

 

"It's about time then, don't you think?" 

 

"You can't just ask me this, just like that, out of the blue!"

 

"Why not?" 

 

"Because!"

 

"I wasn't exactly asking either...."

 

"That's even worse!" 

 

Daniel grinned, "Would it be better if I did it like this?" 

 

And then he reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, producing a little velvet box out of it. Lando gasped, clasping a hand over his mouth, as Daniel went down on one knee. 

 

"Lando Norris. Love of my life. Will you marry me?"

 

Lando couldn't speak. Couldn't even move. 

 

"Lando?" 

 

Daniel's worried tone and his hand on his cheek shook him out of his trance.

 

He didn't even realize he was crying. 

 

He clasped onto Daniel's hand on his cheek and twined their fingers together.

 

"Yes! Yes I will marry you!!!"

 

Daniel's worried frown turned into a spit eating grin. 

 

He got up from the floor and gathered Lando up in his arms, spinning him around until they were both dizzy. 

 

The ring wasn't slid on his finger until the ceremony the next evening. 

 

The whole grid was there. Max and Carlos as proud best men. 

 

It was the quickest, but also the best marriage ever. 

 

No one could predict it would be this short lived. 

 

 

It was just minutes before Q3 would start. 

 

Somehow Lando got kicked out at Q1 and Max's car had dnf'ed in Q2. 

 

As sad as it was for him, Lando had still made his way over to the Redbull garage (yes, Daniel was a Redbull driver again) to wish his husband of one day good luck. 

 

"I'm sorry you aren't out on the track with me," Daniel murmured in between soft kisses. 

 

"Eh. The car was shit. You'll just have to drive for both of us." 

 

"I'll do you proud." 

 

"You always do, Dan." 

 

"I love you, hubby." 

 

Lando's smile lit up the whole paddock. 

"I lw1ove you too. Go get them!"

 

Daniel winked and blew him a kiss before pulling on his balaclava and helmet, lifting himself into his car. 

 

Lando made his way to the media pen, still smiling, finger playing with the ring around his finger. Completely unaware of what he was about to witness.

 

It was in the middle of an interview that his attention was pulled towards the screen. 

 

"That's Ricciardo's Redbull spinning! Crashing against Ocon's Alpine and flying up in the air! Oh no.... No, this is a bad one..."

 

Lando watched on in complete horror as he saw Daniel's car catch fire. He could also see absolute mayhem in the pitlane.

 

He heard a scream, then another one very close by. 

 

He didn't even realize the second scream was his own until he felt Carlos' arms wrap around him as his knees buckled.

 

Daniel wasn't coming out. 

 

It was taking too long. 

 

He really wasn't coming out, no matter how hard the marshals were trying. 

 

He couldn't hear anything of the absolute chaos around him because his ears were ringing.

 

Fingers wrapped around the ring on his finger. 

 

They just got married. 

 

This was supposed to be the happiest time of his life.

 

A dream come true. 

 

Not this nightmare. 

 

 

Every day and every night since then, Daniel's ethereal form watched how Lando suffered.

 

How he stayed in bed for the next two months most of the time. Only Max, sometimes Carlos too, were allowed to visit him. 

 

It was absolutely heartwrenching to watch. Especially because he couldn't do anything. Lando couldn't even see him. 

 

Sometimes he thought Lando felt his presence. Same with Max. 

 

Max wasn't much better off than Lando, Daniel could tell just by seeing his face when he visited Lando. 

 

When he had to watch Max crawl into bed with Lando, hearing them cry until they were too exhausted and fell asleep. 

 

Their sleep never lasted long either.

 

They often remenised about their own times with Daniel. 

 

As friends. As teammates. And for Lando, as lovers. 

 

Daniel listened to the stories with a soft, sad smile on his face. 

 

Sometimes he wishes he could pull them both into a hug. 

 

He mostly wishes he could put a smile back on Lando's face. 

 

He misses that smile so much. 

 

 

Now they're a year later, back in Vegas. 

 

Lando on one hand wishes they wouldn't race there anymore, but on the other hand he knows how much Daniel loved Vegas. 

 

So ironic....

 

But something happens that year. Something none of them expected. Least of all Lando. 

 

"That's P1 Lando! P1! You're the Vegas GP winner!"

 

“No... I... I won?! "

 

“Yes! Your first win!"

 

"Oh my---" and then he's sobbing. "I can't believe this. Daniel.... Holy shit. This... This is for Danny. "

 

Zak's voice comes through the radio. "Well done, Lando. I'm sure he'd be proud of you." 

 

Lando is caught between laughing and crying. 

 

He parks the car and sits there, head bowed. He still can't wrap his head around this victory.

 

He finally lifts himself up, with shaking arms and shaking legs. He almost trips and falls, but Max, who's P2, is there to catch him and wrap him up in a hug.

 

They pull back long enough to take off their helmets and balaclavas, dropping them into Lando's car for a moment, then they're hugging and clutching at each other once again. 

 

"He's so proud of you, Lando." Not 'he would be' just a 'he is'. "Can you feel it? He's so happy for you."

 

Lando nods, crying into Max's shoulder, his hand snaking up between their bodies, fingers curling around the ring on his necklace.

 

He can't feel it, but, Daniel's wrapped around his back, his arms wrapped around both him and Max as the three of them cry with smiles on their faces. 

 

He's so proud of his boy. Of his husband. 

 

He only wishes he could show him. 

 

But somehow, he thinks he knows. 

 

 

They're standing up on the podium. 

 

Oscar P3. Max P2 and Lando P1. 

 

One hand is holding his trophy, the other is wrapped around the ring on his necklace once again. 

 

He stares up at the clouds as the anthem of Great Britain plays, hoping he's looking down  smiling. 

 

Then...... Something happens. 

 

As the anthem is about to end, it changes. It changes into the Australian anthem and Lando's jaw drops. 

 

He looks over at Oscar, then at Max. They both just look as flabbergasted as he does. 

 

He can tell there's a commotion behind the scenes. They're trying to stop the music but it doesn't work. 

 

He looks back up at the sky, sees how the sun comes peeking through and he gets it. 

 

His fingers clasp around the ring even harder and he smiles. 

 

It feels like he's bathed in sunlight. Wrapped up in his husband's loving embrace. 

 

Max gets up on the top step with him, wrapping his free arm around his waist. He knows he's looking up at the sky and smiling too. 

 

Mere seconds later, Oscar does the same. 

 

They just stand there, basking in the warmth and glory.

 

The whole crowd is looking at them, then up at the sky. 

 

There's a reason for everything. 

 

And this reason was Daniel. 

 

 

"Congratulations again." Oscar's soft voice startles Lando a little. 

 

They're sharing a hotel room together because Max is rooming with Carlos, the two of them became a lot closer the last few months, and Oscar is the only other person Lando allows to get close to him.

 

He's his teammate after all. Has been since before Daniel died. 

 

To be honest, they've been growing closer the last few months too. Since racing season started up again. 

 

At first Lando didn't let him in, Oscar had expected that, but he was so insistent. Just never giving up. And eventually, Lando let him in again. 

 

"Thanks," He smiles, patting the space on the bed next to him. "Still can't believe I just had my first win." 

 

"I can," Oscar smiles back, sitting down next to him. His eyes go over to the ring around his neck. "So could he. Obviously." 

 

Lando's eyes go down to his chest, his hand going up to hold the ring once again. 

 

"I still don't know how that happened." He whispers, feeling Oscar move closer, feels an arm being wrapped around his shoulders. 

 

"I don't either. But it did." He rests his head on Oscar's shoulder and feels his fingers card through his curls. 

 

"I know I'm not him," Oscar whispers softly, his free hand curling around Lando's hand that's holding the ring. "and I'll never try to replace him. But I like you, Lando." 

 

Lando closes his eyes, fingers clenching around the ring even tighter. 

 

"I know. No one will ever be him." He feels Oscar's starting to retreat, but he stops it by twining their fingers together around the ring. "But I think he'd like it to be you." He opens his eyes, turning his head so he can look into Oscar's eyes. "I like you too, Oscar. I just.... Need time." 

 

Oscar nods, squeezing the fingers that are twined with his. "I'll give you all the time you need." 

 

It's like they can feel the ring vibrate inside their joined hands and they both gasp. 

 

Lando looks out of the window and nearly topples over, out of the bed. as he sees a well known reflection, just in a flash. 

 

His eyes quickly glance over to the corner he thought he saw the reflection stand in, but there's no one there. Of course there isn't. 

 

He can't be there - - - 

 

"Lando, look!“

 

Oscar's breathy voice makes him look at him and Oscar points to the window Lando was just looking through. 

 

The window is fogged and instead of a reflection, he can now see words that are written in the fog. 

 

'It's okay. Proud of you. Love. Always. DR3' 

 

Lando entangles himself from Oscar, gets off the bed, then holds his hand out towards his younger teammate and walks with him to the window. 

 

He stares at the words, then replies on the glass next to it. 

 

'I'll never forget you. Love. Always. LN4' 

 

He thinks he sees the light on the other side of the road flicker a few times. He knows it's not just his imagination when he feels Oscar squeeze his hand. 

 

A single tear leaves his eye as he feels like he's losing Daniel one last time. But at the same time he smiles, because he knows he's happy for him. 

 

He feels Oscar wrap his arms around him from behind and hook his shin on his shoulder as they both stare out of the foggy window. 

 

The light flickers one more time. Then it's dark. 

 

Daniel's gone. 

 

But he'll live on in their memories. 

 

And in the little things he left behind. 

[itsrheasgirl]

THE MORNING AFTER

Following an incredible night with the reader, Rhea has to return home to Florida without saying goodbye.

•

mentions of Bianca Belair.

mentions of Damian Priest.

•

@rheasbaee @you-got-me-star-lost-16 @innagnv @bittersweetastoria @chillinbri @call-me-a-simp @sithfar @rooskaya-yelena @half-of-a-gay @teenagedramaqueenlisa @gabrielleskyelar

•

The door closed with a soft click as you disappeared into the hallway, leaving Rhea alone in her room. She sat on the end of her bed as clammy palms scraped back through her onyx locks, a long sigh vibrating in her throat.

“Shit.”

She muttered to herself as a coy smirk claimed her lips, her fingers remaining wound into her hair as she chuckled softly. She couldn’t believe what had just happened, when you’d left the bar she thought that was the last she’d see of you. That you would disappear out of her life again for god knows how long. Smoothing her palms down her features, she exhaled another breath. Only a few moments passed since your departure, the tip of Rhea’s tongue coating her lips as her palms shifting to push herself up off the bed.

She’d pretty much packed before heading out for the night, her belongings all tucked away except for what she intended to wear home. The idea of going home had been so exciting when the weekend had started, Rhea was actually getting a few days off before returning to the ring and she couldn’t wait, but now— now it felt different.

Throwing her shirt back on, Rhea crossed the room to the small table which housed a bowl of decorative shells and a small pad of paper. She hadn’t planned on letting you leave so quickly, there was so much she’d wanted to say but couldn’t think of how to start.

Rhea’s nimble fingers scooped up a pen and began to twirl it between her middle finger and thumb, her brow furrowing and her nose crinkling as she mulled over the best way to write down what she needed to say. She couldn’t bring herself to tell you any of this in person, that she’d felt more than friendship towards you since the day you’d met— when Liv had introduced you all those years ago.

She’d have to find a way to get her note to you, she couldn’t just slip it under your door in the morning— Liv could find it.

Tapping the cap of the pen down against the table, Rhea chewed at her lower lip. Her shimmering gaze staring down at the blank sheet of papers as she exhaled, the black ink sprawling across the crisp white as she began write.

Hey pretty girl,

I know this weekend was hard for you, Liv is important to you and I understand that. But last night was… I don’t even know, words don’t begin to describe it.

I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye, in all fairness I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I couldn’t begin to imagine letting you walk away from me again.

I wish we had one more day, I miss your touch already but we knew that reality would have to eventually set in….

Rhea’s lips twitch into a cheeky grin as she paused for a moment, her lids fluttering closed as her tongue coaxed slowing over her lips. Cinematic imagery of your bare breasts, your moist core and your purple blemished skin flashing before her eyes.

Rhea hummed softly as she returned to reality, the pen scribbling against the paper once more as she continued to write.

This weekend was more than I could have asked for, I never could have imagined that I would get to actually kiss you, hold you, feel your bare skin against my own and… well, you know.

I want to see you again, I need to. Being around you, I feel… important? Like you see me for me and not Rhea. Maybe next time I’m in New York? I don’t know when that will be, my matches are scattered all over these day. I’m not even sure when my next time off is. But I want you to know..

Until that day comes, I’ll always be thinking of you.

Your Dems. xx

Rhea looked over the letter she’d whipped up, a warm smile claiming her lips as she folded the paper in half and slipped it under the handle of her suitcase. A soft yawn breaking her lips as both arms stretched up over her head, her neck rolling to induce a small crack from each side.

It was getting late and she had an early flight.

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

The rustle of carpet under wheels was the only sound in the hallway as Rhea walked towards the elevator, it was so early and she’d barely slept— her subconscious having been extremely occupied. A soft yawn parted her lips as she rubbed at her eyes with one palm, her form coming to a complete halt outside room six eleven. She wanted to knock, hoping that you’d be the one to open the door but it was seven thirty in the morning and she didn’t want to wake either of the room’s occupants.

Exhaling a short breath Rhea continued on towards the elevator, her free palm reaching out to hit the call button before digging around in her bag in search of the letter she’d intended for you. Many ways to get the letter to you had played over in Rhea’s head, most of them were high risk and she didn’t want to jeopardize your friendship with Liv once more so she’d found a different approach.

The ding of the elevator pulled Rhea’s focus, a tired smile claiming her lips as she came face to face with an equally tired Bianca.

“Ooooof, you look rough.”

Rhea chortled, dropping the letter back into her bag before Bianca could notice, slipping into the elevator and poking playfully at her arm.

“Shhhhhh.”

The fellow female whispered, bringing a lone finger up to press lazily against Rhea’s lips.

“Toooo loud.”

Another soft laugh echoing in Rhea’s chest as she stood perfectly still, her brow furrowing slightly at Bianca’a actions. She hadn’t expected to see anyone she knew this early, so running into Bianca was something she hadn’t planned for. Poking the tip of her tongue out against Bianca’s finger, she laughed when her companion snapped her palm back with a whine.

“Ewwwww, gross.”

Rhea wiggled her brow playfully— it instantly falling into confusion as the door opened and Bianca walked onto into the hall, spinning back to face Rhea with a warm grin.

“You’re leaving already?”

Bianca questioned, a yawn breaking her lips as the door began to close again. Rhea’s palm stretched out to keep it open as she bobbed her head gently, adjusting the bag on her shoulder so it didn’t fall.

“Flights at nine.”

Bianca simply nodded, turning to head down hallway without another word. A soft laugh vibrating in Rhea’s chest as she stepped back into the elevator to continue the downward ride to the lobby. It didn’t bother her that Bianca left, she needed all the extra time she could get to execute her plan anyway.

Slipping out the elevator and into the lobby, Rhea began the search for your letter again. Nimble fingers grasping the small sheet of paper as she paused in front of a decorative vase filled with pink lilies, a mischievous grin claiming her lips as she looked left and right for any hotel staff. They won’t miss one she thought to herself as she released the handle of her suitcase to gently plucked a singular flower from the water that nourished it— shaking off the excess droplets.

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

Rhea placed the small note and flower down onto the check-in desk along with her room key, her sapphire gaze meeting that of the slender brunette as a warm smile claimed the new females features.

“Good morning Miss, how can I help you?”

Rhea’s fingertips drummed down against the white paper as she took a quick peek around the lobby, she’d already unexpectedly ran into Bianca and didn’t want to risk anyone else overhearing her convocation.

“Demi Bennett room six fifteen, checking out.”

Rhea scanned the room again quickly as the hostess tinkered with her computer, taking the room key back and logging in Rhea’s check out.

Returning her features back to face the brunette, she slowly pushed the note and singular pink lily over towards the hotel clerk, a giddy smile claiming her lips as she spoke.

“So.. a girl is going to come looking for me, I need you to give this to her. Don’t answer her questions, just give her this. Can you do that?”

The female nodded and gently took the flower and placed it down beside her computer, placing the note on the counter behind her she turned back to Rhea with a warm grin.

“Of course Miss, I’ll make sure she gets it.”

The smile on Rhea’s face falters slightly, her glistening eyes a little dimmer and her warm smile a little colder— a soft cough from the lady behind the counter pulling her focus, Rhea looked up to address what seemed to concern the hostess.

“Is everything okay Miss?”

Rhea swallowed back a small lump that had began to form in her throat, gripping at her suitcase handle as she inhaled a small breath. She wasn’t okay, she wasn’t ready to go back home. She missed her dogs— her friends, but the idea of leaving you behind was definitely affecting her more than she’d expected.

Running a palm through her hair to fix the stray strands that dropped about her features, she bobbed her head gently. Meeting the fellow females gaze just long enough for her to smile.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

The hostess nodded and offered a soft smile, not bothering to pry Rhea over what was wrong. It wasn’t her place and didn’t wish to cause the Aussie any more upset.

“I hope you enjoyed your stay, Miss.”

Rhea returned the brunettes smile before spinning on sneaker clad feet, there was nothing more she could do except leave and yet she was frozen in place. Her palm still held tightly around her suitcase handle, the thrum of her heart getting louder as she tried her best to move. Every ounce of her subconscious willing her to leave the hotel, as much as it hurt she had to.

The gentle vibration of her phone shifted Rhea back to reality, a soft sigh parting her lips as she read the alert that flashed across the screen.

“I’m at the car when you’re checked out, already got us coffee.”

Damian always seemed to be there when Rhea needed him, a soft smile claiming her lips as she inhaled a shallow breath. If he was waiting she had to go, they had flights to catch.

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

Rhea’s gaze hadn’t left the road as she drove, Damian sat in silence beside her as he contemplated how to approach whatever it was that clearly plagued his companion. Rhea usually seemed so excited to be heading home after such a draining weekend and Damian knew that, but this time was different. She seemed almost reluctant to leave, as if something was trying to keep her here. Drumming the tips of his fingers against his knee, Damian coughed to clear his throat before turning his head to look over Rhea’s features.

“What’s going on kiddo?”

Rhea rolled her eyes as she shoved her palm into his chest, returning it to the wheel as she tried not to smile. She definitely wasn’t a kiddo, but every time Damian said she was it reminded her of a protective brother. Just looking out for her. Peeking at Damian through her peripherals, she parted her lips with her tongue before exhaling softly.

“I told you don’t call me that.”

She flashed him a pouty look before laughing it of, shaking her head gently as she spoke.

“Nothing you can solve, big guy.”

The judgement day were like family— in and out of the ring. It made Rhea smile at how much Damian looked after her, keeping her sane and protecting her from making mistakes. He’d already been there for her this weekend and she didn’t want to burden him with any more of her drama. Removing her hand from the wheel once more, she tapped it down against the muscular males shoulder with a smile.

“That’s for me to decide.”

He responded, taking a sip of his coffee before gesturing into the open air with his palm.

“So, what’s going on.”

He wasn’t going to let this go and Rhea knew it, what she didn’t know was how she was going to talk about her feelings with Damian of all people. Returning her palm back to the wheel, she gripped it tightly and pressed her lips into a thin line. Inhaling a long breath— she played with the best way to word what was spiraling in her head. Talking about it made it all reality and that scared her, what if nothing came of it. What if it was all just a day dream that had to end?

“Fess up, Bennett.”

Rhea exhaled extremely slowly, letting her lids close for a brief second as she chewed at her lower lip— rolling the flesh between her teeth. She still couldn’t think, she didn’t want to sound like a sappy girl talking about the way you made her feel. She didn’t want Damian making fun of her for being girly and having feelings.

“Let me guess.”

Damian quipped, knocking back the last of his coffee.

“Last night something happened you’d never expected would ever happen, you came back to find a special person in your hotel room and in turn found yourself the happiest you’ve been in a while. Now you have to leave that special person and it’s hurting more than you’d like to admit…”

Rhea’s crystal gaze widens as Damian speaks, her words catching in her throat leaving her unable to respond.

“She makes you feel important— seen and walking away from that feeling is one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to do. You find yourself constantly thinking about her smile and the way she laughs, the glimmer in her eyes and the way her hair falls about her features.”

Saliva pooled on Rhea’s tongue as Damian continued, his gaze having shifting from her to stare straight out the window to the road ahead.

“But now you’re worried that you won’t get to see her again. That leaving her will lead to you losing her and you won’t get to tell her how you really feel.”

A soft smile tugged at the corners of Rhea’s lips as she kept her gaze on the road, bringing her coffee up to her lips to take a sip before glancing at Damian through her peripherals once more. Her brow raising as she placed the coffee back down into the cup holder.

“What.. um, what makes you think that?”

Rhea questioned, as the car slowed down to a halt. Her gaze remaining forward as to not address Damian head on. She wasn’t even sure she really wanted to know, and she didn’t need her facial expressions giving her away.

Damian laughed to himself as he unbuckled his seatbelt, grabbing all his belongings from his lap before opening his door. Swinging one leg out into the parking lot, he leaned back slightly to jab his elbow into Rhea’s upper arm with a whispered tone.

“Our rooms shared a wall.. and I’m not deaf.”

[silly-inky]

Can we have more sibling banter between Mario and Luigi? Have some of my thoughts on them

Mario and Luigi def insult each other (this next part I will take directly from one of my head canons posts because I'm too lazy enough to think of more stuff lol) :

Mario: Luigi you’re looking extra ugly today. What did you do? Get a shower? Your skin looks like it’s melting off like the wicked witch of the west

Luigi: Look who’s talking you red bowling ball, you look like a love child between Danny DaVitto and Golem from lord of the ring, who's very existence makes god weep knowing he has to look at your face when you die

Mario: We have almost the same face you you dried out celery stick

Luigi: You’re the one that started it ‘jump man’

They pull pranks on each other all the time, such as Mario hiding Luigi's stuff around the house on their birthday, making him think he misplaced or simply forgot to out it back in its right place, until he looks at/in the object which will have a little note that would say something along the lines of "loosing your marbles already old man?", it's tradition at this point. Luigi would be a bit more smart and creative though, such as loosing all the screws on Mario's chair, so when he sits down on it, it falls apart, or putting tiny rocks under the insoles of Mario's shoes, so he feels them, but every time he tales his shoes off no rocks come out.

I headcanon that Mario has ADHD and Luigi has autism, so imagine with me, Luigi info dumping about his current hyper fixation, and Mario loosing his train of thought a lot through their convo

Luigi: and then ther is this thing about it!

Mario: that's cool, it reminds me of... Ummm.... Oh what was I gonna say!..................................................................................What were we talking about just now?

Luigi: * specific thing* I was on about

Mario: oh right! Go on

It works both ways, but Mario prefers to listen to Luigi, of course sometimes he just gets annoyed though

Mario: Luigi I love you, but I'm not interested right now, I'm trying to watch something here

Luigi: we'll screw you too (in a joking matter)

They both stim, with Luigi it's more vocal stimming such a screeching (he mainly does it in a more comfortable setting, such as at home) popping, clicking his tongue and random Jiberish, he likes to rock and jump when he's standing either when excited or bored, and occasionally will grab Mario's arms and flail his hands about, Mario is chill with this and laughs a little whenever Luigi does it, it's justbhis way of showing hebis excited and wants to share that with people

Mario stims through Echolalia (repeating certains words, phrases or sounds) visual stimming and tapping, he likes to stare at fire and flashing/ colour chnaging lights, he watches little ants on the floor move, we will watch the clouds slowly change in the sky, and he will move his head side to side looking at how the lighting changes on the jewels in Peaches crown. In meetings when he's bored an can't speak, he will tap his fingers or a pen and bounce his leg

They both know eachothers stimming, and encourage eachother doing so, so they don't get overwhelmed, but also as a way of showing his they are feeling to their friends without actually saying what they are feeling

Mario will randomly wake up in the middle of the night to go to the kitchen for something, only to find Luigi already awake and doing something in the kitchen

Mario: what are you doing up bro? Nightmares again?

Luigi: a little it's more of the phantom pain from my burn scars again (headcanon of him having burn scars from holding the man hole cover to protect mario)

Mario: shit, that doesn't sound fun

Luigi: it isn't, but I can't go back to sleep, so I made cookies, their on the cooling wrack

Mario: thought I smelt something good. Do you want me to stay up with you?

Luigi: nah, it'll pass eventually, currently talking with Rosalina over text to keep myself occupied, she says hi by the way

Mario: alrighty, I hope it goes away soon, and tell Rosie I send my love. Goodnight

Luigi: night bro

Peach often keeps Luigi up to speed on Mario's condition when he's not at home, and Luigi does the same for Peach, they have a running joke of calling Mario anything but Mario when talking about him, so he doesn't really understand they are on about him

Mario def jokes about Luigi's love life, when he does this however, Luigi reminds him of how he has not even accepted his own feelings about a certain princess, which quickly shuts him up

In the end, they make fun of eachother a lot, but are eachothers biggest fans, no one will ever love Luigi morebthan Mario, and no one will ever respect Mario more than Luigi

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

[aro-absol]

Aro Ring Guide for closeted folk

How to justify your specific ring choices without coming out

If you still live with your parents and can not buy an aro ring without them knowing, they might ask you why exactly it has to be a white ring on the left middle finger. Also works for friends and acquaintances that you cannot or do not want to come out to.

This is what I did when I bought my aro ring and my parents started asking questions.

Just because it worked for me doesn't mean there's a guarantee it'll work for you as well. You know your situation better than me. Be safe!

Why a ring?

This will probably be easier if you're a girl (or your parents think you are), as it is more socially acceptable for women to accessorize than it is for men. However, throughout history it was common for powerful men to wear rings as a symbolism for power and wealth. It also can be a great way for self-expression.

Why the left hand?

If you're right-handed: The left hand is your non-dominant hand. You could say it makes you uncomfortable to wear a ring on your dominant hand because it can be hindering in day to day tasks such as holding a pen.

If you're left-handed: You can say that you like wearing a ring on your dominant hand better because it is more visible. You use your dominant hand more often and therefore more people will notice your ring. Alternatively, if you're wearing a watch (which is typically worn on the non dominant side), you can say you want a more balanced out look so you wear the ring on the opposite hand. This is what many style guides literally recommend when it comes to wearing rings.

Why white?

If you have light skin: You can say that you prefer a ring color that doesn't clash so much with your skin. You want a ring but you like to keep it more subtle. Admittedly, this works better if you're not wearing any other rings. If they ask you why you didn't choose a colorful ring, you can say that you want to be able to wear it with any outfit and don't want to worry about the colors of your clothes clashing with the color of the ring.

If you have dark skin: You can say you want a ring that stands out to your skin. Because if you buy a ring and wear it, you want people to notice. And white is more obvious on your skin than black or a dark metal. If they ask you why you didn't choose a colorful ring, you can say that you want to be able to wear it with any outfit and don't want to worry about the colors of your clothes clashing with the color of the ring.

And if you're somewhere in between, you can always say that you want some contrast to your skin but not too much.

Why the middle finger?

According to some websites I found (x/x/x/x), a ring on the middle finger doesn't really have an assigned meaning. Rings on the middle finger are mostly a fashion statement, apparently. Although a ring on the middle finger might symbolize power, balance and stability. But all in all, nothing that'll make your parents suspicious. I do not know how reliable those sources actually are but they are the first things to come up when you search for the meaning of rings on the middle finger online.

However, googling "white ring left middle finger" leads to aro rings! If you think your parents might google that, be careful!

Other search engines might not give you aro ring results in the top results. (For example, Ecosia does not.)

I hope this helps some of y'all!

[delicatetaleprincess]

Whats in your mind

"Now everyone settle down" the teacher call out to everyone making the classroom go silent

"As you all know we have been getting some new estudents transfer after the neighbour school burn down so today we are getting a new friend add to our school and classroom"

As the teacher said that many started to murmur between each other

It was normal

The school explocion was in everyone's mind being a resent event without an certain explanaition

Police had mention being cuase by a gas like by a damage that exploted after a studen smoked inside the school

Some belive It, the school had a horrible reputation in its maintenance after all It was known to be more of a correctional than an actual school

Where problematic or resources people would go to

Others think that It was goberment hit or that It was tamper

The stories on and on

"Now everyone you are old enough for this, be sensitive and welcome your new friend with welcome arms" the teacher said shushing everyone "Milo you can come in"

As the teacher said that a young man came in, he wore all black with a hat that make It difficult to see his face until he face the classroom

"Good morning everyone my name is Milo, I hope we can get along"

On the contrary to his way of dressing that seem like a funeral

His personality was a whole 180°, a friendly smile plaster in his face with a playful stare

The new guy quickly catch some girls attention they smiled and whisper with each other giggling

"It is nice to have you here Milo, why dont you take a sit beside Hope?"

The teacher pointed at the middle row sits an empty sit in the table where a young male sit stearing intensly at the front class

"Thanks miss Clare"

Milo smiled and walk to his table as some started at him with the back of their eyes

"Nice to meet you, I hope we can get along" Milo said with a smile as he plop his backpack under the table

But no answer came back

The young male keep looking at the front class, his stare somewhere else

"Oh dont worry about him, his head is always somewhere else"

A young female turn around and snap her fingers in the male's face

The male blink twice and then look at her with annoyance

"What?" he said eyebros frown

"Milo is talking to you dont be rude, thats why you dont have friends" she said annoy by his lack of attention

"I do have friends" Hope murmur between his teeth

He turn to his side and stared at Milo up and down

"Oh Im sorry, nice to meet you Im Hope" he stretch his hand to Milo who hold It in a strong and confident squizz

"Oh dont worry, Im sorry for interrupting your train of thoughts" Milo chuckle

"You shouldn't worry, Hope doesn't really think" the female chim in to the conversation

Hope give them an annoy expression before biting on the pen they had on hand

"Grace stop bothering Hope and pay attention here the class is about to start" the teacher call from the front "dont make me change you of sit again"

The female chuckle at Milo and roll her eyes annoy as she went back to her sit

Milo stare as Hope put the pincel down, it was worn beyong savation by marks It from the point to the metal point where the eraser should be

He watch from the back of his eye as he then pull other pencil out, this one had fewer chewing marks on it and finally started writing what the teacher written in the board which Milo took as his cue to start writing

It was half an hour of hearing and copying what the teacher dictated from her books until the bell ring

Everyone quickly left except for Milo, Grace, Hope and the teacher

"Did you need me for something teacher?" Hope ask walking to the desk along with the other three

"Yes Hope, since Milo is your desk buddy I think It would be a great idea If you show him around the school" the teacher said with smile

"But teacher!" Grace quickly intervine "I think I would be a better option to help Milo, I can even introducen him to the class with more efficiency, you know Hope is very lonely, he'll just drag Milo around"

"Well thats true, but we should let Milo choose to not overwhealm him" said the teacher

Milo analize in silent everyone's faces, Grace had an excited and confident smile that almost seem like smirk directed to Hope

He hide the best he could the grimace that wanted to show in his face, her face, her manerism...it was all too similar to him

He then look at Hope who look tired of everything and annoy, he look at Milo but quickly look away when both made eye contact

Clearly unconfortable of the whole situation and wanting out

The teacher only smiled a kindly at him oblivious or maybe way too use to Grace and actitude

"Too bad for you Hope" Milo thought before smiling

"I want Hope to give me the tour Miss. Clare, I think it would be easier for me and i wont get so overwhealm by people"

Milo look on the corner of his eye how Hope tried to keep his cool but his eyes twich slightly while Grace pouted with her eyes cross looking away

"I know most already know about my past and I wouldn't want to be center of attention for that matter" ended Milo with a pitiful smile

"Oh don't worry Milo, If you need help you can always come to me, ill defuse any conflict" she say with a warm smile "now go get some lunch, I'll give you two some extra time since Hope will be walking you around"

"Thanks miss. Clare" Milo chirp

"Whatever" Grace roll her eyes before leaving

[zombiedumbie]

05. OH, HOME, LET COME HOME

'Wolf brought another strange kid home' masterlist.

based on Law's light novel, Shachi and Penguin's past, 1st person pov.

It took four days for them to wake up.

During that time, onnanoko and I took care of them, and the three of us took turns with household chores under Law's command, to continue helping Wolf while keeping an eye on the boys. I found it impressive how he could manage things.

"They were the boys who were messing with me in the forest", I told her as we cleaned them, the day before they woke up, and she asked me why I was helping them. I didn't understand why she asked that, so I just replied, "just because" and continued, too tired to understand the reason behind her question.

When they woke up, all of us were tired but happy to see them conscious. I could see how Law seemed concerned about the two of them. He often talked about the boy with the cap, who, despite still being weak due to the hole in his stomach, would be fine as long as we took care of him.

He was the first to wake up, an hour or two before his friend. Onnanoko hid at the top of the stairs. He seemed bothered by his injury, but he could speak calmly. He kept looking at me in a strange way and always turned his face when I looked back at him.

But Law mainly talked about the boy with the cap that had 'Penguin' written on it and his arm. Sometimes at night, he stayed awake in the living room, looking at him with concern. Law was worried about his arm, I didn't understand why, but he explained to me that such surgery was very complicated, and it wasn't just about putting his arm back in place; there were several things he needed to sew in the exact right place for him to be able to use his arm again. I stayed with him in the living room during those nights.

Then 'Penguin' woke up, onnanoko climbed a few more steps, and Law seemed even tenser. Wolf stopped right at the door, arms crossed while he watched us, and the other boy bit his lips nervously.

"I'm going to remove your bandages. See if you can move your arm and fingers", Law said, cutting his bandages with scissors.

"O-Okay..." He replied, terrified. Even onnanoko approached a bit closer, watching everything while peering through the wall of the staircase.

He sighed, looking at his arm with fear. I saw his muscle contract, and then he moved his little finger, followed by the ring finger, the middle finger, index finger, and thumb. Surprised, he raised his arm and bent his elbow, moving his forearm.

Everyone in the room breathed a sigh of relief. I was so happy to see him able to move his arm that I hugged him without even thinking, and he was crying, sniffing while I hugged him tightly. The boy with the cap was crying too. Both of them seemed relieved to be well. I could hardly hold back my tears watching them happy and thanking Law.

"Thank you, thank you so much!" 'Penguin' said, bowing his head when I let go.

"Oh man, I was so scared! I thought it was a lost case... But I'm alive, thanks to you!" The boy with the cap said between tears and a huge smile on his face. He still looked pale and weak, but he was happy. I restrained my desire to hug him too.

It took almost a week, but they were almost fully recovered. Law said they seemed very aware of what had happened. Wolf and I helped 'Penguin' with his recovery, Law explained that he needed to move his arm due to the surgery and the time he spent immobile. Onnanoko also wanted to help, but her fear seemed to overwhelm her, especially when she had to face two new people.

The best she could do was to be in the same room with them without hiding, but she cooked and helped us with some things so that we could assist them. Wolf frequently grumbled, complained and sniffed, making faces, but Law said that was how he showed he was happy, so he hadn't kicked them out yet.

Law decided to ask them what had happened now that they were better.

"First, you two brats, what are your names?! I can't stand calling you 'cap' and 'Penguin' anymore!" Wolf said, getting up. "I am Wolf, the genius inventor Wolf! That's how you should call me, with a lot of respect!" Law chuckled and crossed his arms.

"Pay no mind to him; he's just an old man who makes a lot of junk", I heard onnanoko stifling a laugh, Wolf looked at the two of them, incredulous.

"Shut up, brat! And don't butt into the conversation when you're not called!"

"If you say so..." And then the two of them made the same face and turned away, red. Onnanoko and I laughed at them while the two boys watched in confusion.

They talked amongst themselves before introducing themselves, 'cap' was Shachi, and 'Penguin' was... well, Penguin.

"Shachi and Penguin, huh. You can start by telling us how you got hurt", Wolf asked, and I was surprised by how calm his voice was.

So the two explained. They were living in a tent in the forest, and on the day of the accident, while they were cooking meat, a wild boar hit Shachi in the stomach. Penguin tried to hit it with a bomb, but it exploded shortly after he threw it. Penguin said he had stolen the bomb from the town, when Wolf was curious about why they had one.

"I understand. You shouldn't be stealing, but I can see why you'd want to protect yourselves from wild beasts", he replied, sipping his tea. We all fell silent for a few moments, and then Law spoke, as if he read my mind.

"Where are your parents?" We all fell silent, waiting for one of them to answer.

Their parents had died in a minor tsunami six months ago. Because of that, they had to live with Shachi's uncles, who made them commit petty thefts and smuggle weapons through the city. We were all upset about everything, and onnanoko hugged my arm, hiding her face in my shoulder, and I could feel her tears wetting my fur. So I placed a hand on her head while listening to them.

"We were never treated as people. To them, we were just slaves. So we ran away. But we had nowhere to go and no way to make money, so we built a tent in the forest and tried to live a real life there... but... I don't even know what the point of living is", Penguin began to cry, and I felt very sad for the two of them.

Wolf and Law exchanged looks as the two boys cried in front of us. I could only feel very sad after hearing what they had been through. If I had known that earlier, I could have shared my food with them when we first met. Onnanoko just left and went back to her room without saying anything.

"If you hadn't saved us, we would have died in the forest. Thank you so much! And..." Shachi turned to me, and I opened my eyes a bit wider, confused. "Polar Bear... you took care of us all this time. Feeding us, helping with our rehabilitation... there are no words to express our gratitude!"

My cheeks burned when Shachi said that, and I didn't understand why he was thanking me. I had just done what needed to be done! But I worried about his effort in moving and talking so much while crying. I stretched both hands in front of my body, waving them to try to show them that they didn't need to do that.

"You... You don't have to thank me. It's natural to help someone who's injured, isn't it?" I tried to reassure him.

"It's more than that! We hit you. Kicked you, punched you. Being kind to someone who did that is more than 'natural'!" Shachi replied, and I felt embarrassed. It didn't matter anymore, after all, they still needed help, and I could help them.

Before I realized it, the two of them were bowing their heads in front of me. "Polar Bear... No, Bepo... Thank you for helping us. We are so, so sorry for taking our anger out on you!" I remained silent for a while, not knowing how to respond so that they understood that it was already in the past.

"You... Don't worry about that! I have no problem helping you!" I replied the best way I could think, but they continued to bow their heads, crying. I looked at Law and Wolf in despair, hoping they would help me with this.

Fortunately, Law finally spoke up.

"Say, you two..." And then, Law invited them to stay with us. My face lit up with the idea; I smiled enthusiastically at the two of them. But then I heard Wolf complaining.

"Did you forget that this house is mine?!" But then Law ignored him.

"Besides, Bepo and onnanoko are already part of my team," and my whole world brightened, and I practically jumped toward Law.

"Really?! This is the first time I've heard that!" I replied excitedly; I couldn't wait to tell that to onnanoko! "Aye, aye!"

"Please, let us stay here!" Penguin and Shachi begged in unison, then Wolf grumbled before complaining again.

"Hey, brats! I don't think I can do anything about it. I'll let you stay here. But make no mistake! I'm not your guardian, and I don't want to be!" He scolded, waving his arms like crazy while speaking. "I won't be part of your family, let alone your friend! The only relationship I need is to give and receive! Alright?!" I saw Law raise his eyebrows when he mentioned family; he probably thought about onnanoko but chose to remain silent.

"You need a place to live, and I need extra hands to help with household chores and my inventions! A fair exchange! As soon as the injured are healed, I'll put all of you to work in the city so you can experience real work! Any questions?!"

We didn't say anything. I thought it was fair, after all, he was letting us live with him in exchange for help.

Wolf's face turned red, and then he left, sniffing and stomping his feet with force. I was excited to have more people living with us, but I worried about the girl, Law told me to leave her alone, as the story of the two boys might have been too heavy for her.

[inkheartedwanderer]

the last in line || e.m.

in which you really need coffee and eddie just happens to be in your way

eddie x fem!reader we’ve all heard of luna lovegood readers, now I give you lorelai gilmore readers (aka caffeine-fueled slightly chaotic individuals). 

content: meet-cute,  a lil’ bit of flirting, a lil’ bit of caffeine dependency, 100% inspired by my favourite story in gilmore girls, badly proofread because it’s 2:30am

word count: 2.9k

The diner is unsurprisingly busy, like every Friday night, when the Hellfire Club walks in. Small but cozy, it’s  located on the very edge of town. The checkered floor is sticky and the smell of oil mixed with cinnamon clings to the light blue walls and the fake leather seats like bad perfume, but they always have rock music playing softly in the background and, better yet, they make the best burger and fries in town since Benny’s closed down -greasy, tasty and cheap. Perfect for a bunch of hungry boys with limited budgets.

Grabbing a bite after their weekly meetings has become new a tradition now that Eddie and Jeff have graduated, both boys part of Hellfire still, their friendship and bonds over shared interests transcending the halls of Hawkins High. They’re a rowdy group, rambunctious and loud, and they don’t have the best reputation in town, but the owner knows them and always welcomes them in without qualms, just a plea to keep the noise to a minimum. They try their best to behave and fail half the time.

Tonight, the Club is particularly animated. They started a new campaign earlier today and Eddie’s gone all out. With an intricately designed storyline, extra minor quests, tricky villains and a surprise plot twist at the end that no one’s expecting, this is his best work yet, if he says so himself. Satisfied with the feedback he’s received so far, Eddie is in a very good mood as they sit around their usual booth, one to the right that’s big enough for all seven of them, so much so that he volunteers to order for the group.

As it often happens when they get together, chaos ensues, each boy outscreaming the others trying to get their leader’s attention, words mixing in that cacophony of incoherent noise that seems to follow them everywhere. But if the party’s loud, Eddie Munson is louder, and he commands attention with ease. Slamming is ringed hand on the wooden table, he makes himself heard. “Shut up!” 

Six pairs of eyes focus on him, knowing better than to try and argue with the boy -he’s nothing if not stubborn, and although kind and generous, Eddie hates to be contradicted or ignored. So they look in silence, expectantly, as they do when they’re in the middle of a campaign and he’s weaving stories in a low voice.

A cheeky smile that borders on condescension spreads across Eddie’s lips when he leans over the table.“Now, boys, let’s behave.” He slides out of his seat and shoves his hands into his pockets, retrieving a crumpled piece of paper that he smoothes out on the table. “Do any of you have a pen?”

Dustin rummages through his backpack and hands Eddie a nearly dry pen from the front pocket. He struggles to get the ink flowing, idly leaning forward, resting on his elbows, but finally manages to write down their orders, pointing to his friends one by one so they speak in turn. He then stands up, snatches the paper with a flourish and walks towards the bar.

He passes by two teenage girls who send disgusted looks his way, and when Eddie wiggles his fingers in mock salute, they turn their attention back to one of the many magazines spread out on the table between them.

There’s a couple holding hands and what seems to be a family of four already at the counter, the parents struggling to read the menu and keep their two young children quiet. While the father tries to control a restless boy, the mother is holding a pouty little girl on her hip. 

Eddie sighs dramatically to himself and stops a few feet behind, waiting for his turn with an exaggerated sour face. He busies himself thinking about the latest song he’s working on, his fingers playing invisible chords on his thigh, his foot tapping the floor to a beat only he can hear. It draws the attention of the little girl, who looks at him over her mum’s shoulder with big curious eyes. 

The boy smiles and sticks out his tongue at her, chuckling amusedly when she hides behind her mother’s hair. He’s considering talking to her when he feels two taps on his shoulder.

Eddie turns around, confusion clouding his features, only to find you glancing up at him with a wide smile and gleaming eyes. He raises an eyebrow and gives you a quick once-over. You look a little dishevelled, your clothes wrinkled and a red scrunchie doing a poor job at holding your hair back, but it kind of works for you. You’re cute, he thinks. And if Eddie Munson is sure of anything in this life is that cute girls like you don’t walk up to him and strike up a conversation. And yet…

“Hiya.” You say, too brightly, too cheerily for Eddie’s taste. 

“Hi..?” He answers, polite but cautious. He’s been the target of one too many attempted pranks at the hands of his classmates, not that any were successful, and he instantly feels on edge at the memory of a giggly cheerleader walking up to him, trying to trick him into an obviously fake date.

“How’s it going?” You’re jiggling on your feet, blinking owlishly at him, and he’s getting nervous, a feeling tiptoeing the line between anticipation and apprehension. No, cute girls like you don’t usually chat Eddie up, but oh, how he wishes you would.

“‘M great.” Eddie ducks his head to level his eyes with yours, squinting. You notice the way his jaw clenches and your smile grows bigger. “Can I help you?” He instantly dislikes the bite to his words, his prudence turned into unfair resentment, but if you pick up on it, you give no sign of it.

“Well, now that you mention it…,” you motion to the counter with your hand, nails painted a pretty dark red colour that Eddie likes very much, “...can I go first?”

The boy snorts. He must have heard wrong. “Excuse me?”

You don’t lose your saccharine sweet smile. Instead, you clasp your hands together, shifting from one foot to the other to the rhythm of the music. “Can I order first?”

Definitely not what Eddie was expecting. The boy takes a quick look around. No one seems to be listening to your conversation, there’s no group of jocks laughing at him, no friend waiting for you in a booth with a smug smirk on her face. There’s just you and those big innocent eyes of yours looking at him in a way that make his breath hitch in his throat.

Eddie stares at you. You stare back. 

“…no.” He turns around, his back to you, positively dumbfounded.

“Oh, come on!” You move to stand beside him and he instinctively takes a step back. “There’s too many people in line already and I’m desperate here!”

Maybe it’s the way you’re looking at him, with a pinch in your eyebrows, maybe it’s the melodramatic undertone to your words -one he’s well-acquainted with-, or maybe it’s just a momentary lapse in judgement caused by all the serotonin in his bloodstream, but Eddie laughs and decides to play along. 

“So am I, I have a family to feed.” He throws his thumb over his shoulder towards his booth. You lean to the side and follow the direction of his finger with your eyes. Six boys sit around a table chattering loudly, none of them paying any attention to you two. 

“You’ve definitely been busy, haven’t ya?” You meet his eyes again and snicker briefly, amused by your own joke. He hopes you don’t notice the rush of blood that tinges his cheeks at your words. “I just want coffee, please, please. I’m not above begging.”

Eddie flicks his wrist and glances at his watch. “It’s 8:30 pm.”

You shrug, because duh. “I know.”

“You want coffee at 8:30 pm.” It isn’t a question as much as him stating the obvious. He’s looking at you like you have three heads.

“So what? Coffee knows no time.” You huff, pushing your lower lip out in a pout, and Eddie stares again, because it looks pink and bitten and at the end of the day, he is but a simple guy. “Look, what’s your name?”

“Eddie.”

You offer him yours in return. It’s a pretty name for a pretty girl. He tries it under his breath, and likes the way it tastes on his tongue. You won’t tell him that you’ve heard it, that he isn’t subtle, nor that you find him cute. He doesn’t need to know that, not yet -you’re now committed to your bit.

"Well, Eddie, see, life's unfortunate circumstances have made me a student. I've spent the whole day in the library,” you point to your messy clothes and hair, the result of many hours sitting at a desk and a few anxious tears, “and I'm desperate to get my coffee and go home."

Eddie rises a quizzical brow, crosses his arms and tilts his head to the side. You like the way his fluffy curls cascade over his shoulder, how they look soft to the touch. His lips twitch, trying to conceal a smile, but the lines under his eyes, right where his eyelashes touch betray him and your heart bumps and thumps in your chest. “You’ve come here all the way from the library to get coffee? We’re on the other side of town.”

“What can I say? Donny makes the best coffee in Hawkins.”

“You’re on a first name basis with the owner?”

There’s a glint in your eyes and a dimple in your smile when you reply, like you’re hiding secrets and daring him to find them out. “I’m on a first name basis with anyone who gives me what I want.”

If Eddie was nervous before, now his stomach is doing somersaults for completely different reasons. His cheeks are burning and he prays to whoever is listening that they don’t look as red as they feel. And then, he does what he’s best at when he feels out of control: he ignores the issue and backs off, willing his poor heart to calm down from its frantic rattling.

“You- you have problems.”

“So I’ve been told.” You answer, clearly amused, and your laugh sounds like bells, light and melodious, like it belongs in a song. When he doesn’t answer, you try again, the urge to push his buttons rivaling your need for caffeine. “You know, I don’t think good ol’ Ronnie would appreciate your lack of chivalry.”

At the bar, the couple has already ordered and the waitress moves on to the family. The little girl is sound asleep in her mother’s arms, but the boy is still babbling and in full motion, climbing up the stool and jumping off to the floor, running away and back under the tired watch of his father.

Eddie steps forward, away from you and your bizarre, albeit charming -not that he would admit it- nonsense, and exhales. “What are you talking about?”

You poke the patch on the back of his vest. “Ronnie James Dio?” Eddie gives you a puzzled look and you throw your head back, defeat and fatigue taking away all the fun. Puns are less funny if you have to explain them. “The Last in Line?” You make a motion with your arms, signaling first to where he’s standing, then to the empty space behind you.

It’s Eddie’s turn to look at the ceiling, choking back a laugh. “Holy shit.” He drags out the words, then looks at you with an expression that’s somewhere between deeply exasperated and thoroughly entertained. “That one’s bad, sweetheart, that one’s veeeery bad. Just for that, I won’t let you go first. See, me and my boys are really hungry, can’t have the kids waiting. Sorry, love.”

Your face falls, jaw slacked in dramatic offence. You really want coffe and really, really want to go home and crash into your bed; but you also think Eddie’s attractive, you like the subtle dimples in his smile and how flustered you can get him. And there’s a challenge in his eyes, you see it clear as day, dancing in between specs of chocolate and umber, a challenge that you can’t refuse.

You study the boy, scanning him up and down; the quirk of your brow making him hold his breath. Your eyes flick to the right, then back to his face, a promise of trouble and mischief in your smirk. “When’s your birthday?”

Eddie frowns, confused. “January 26, why?”

“I’ll be right back.” 

He watches as you nip over to the table where the two teenage girls are sitting, helpless victims to your machinations. They protest when you snatch a magazine from their hands and turn the pages roughly until you find what you want, only to grab the pen one of them is holding and scribble something down furiously. With a swift motion, you tear the bottom of the page out and stroll back to his side, ignoring the girls’ angry whines.

You stop a few feet away from Eddie and stretch out your arm, offering him the torn paper. He takes it, curiosity winning over reluctance, and reads. It’s the horoscope section of whichever tween magazine the girls were reading. Under Aquarius, in swooping letters, and with a little smiley face adorning the corner, you’ve written:

“You will meet an annoying woman today. The faster she gets her coffee, the faster she will go away.”

Eddie can’t help the laugh that escapes his lips, clear and warm and boyish. You smile as he looks at you, then back at the paper and at you again. He bites his lower lip, thoughts racing his a mile a minute. Perhaps sometimes cute girls do approach people like him, and not just for a laugh at his expense. Perhaps he finds you endearing, the same way his friends accept his own antics and weird moods.

He nods once, pointing at you with his chin, pursing his lips to hide his grin. “Do you actually like Dio?”

“Duh,” you say, not unkindly, playfully, as if you’ve known each other for years, “The Last In Line is great, but I think Holy Diver is still my favourite.”

“Can’t argue with that.” Eddie beams at you, teeth on full display, dimples and laughter lines adorning the pretty curve of his lips. And then, to your delight, with a wave of his arm, he takes a step back and bows. “Please, m’lady, go ahead.”

You take his place in line and laugh again, that joyous sound that rings like music, like it should be in a ballad, or an anthem, like maybe Eddie should record it and put it in his new song. He may ask you, if he gathers enough courage before you go.

                                                             -

With a warm coffee to go held tightly in your hands, you turn around, away from the counter, finally all set to go home. You take one, two, three steps and stop right in front of Eddie. “Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed this.”

“You lucked out, y’know?” He leans in, confidentially. “Any other guy would’ve called Pennhurst straight away.”

“How, oh kind sir, will I ever repay you?” You nudge him softly. You’re somehow closer than you were before, looking up at him through your lashes, and if he didn’t know better, Eddie would think you’re playing coy. 

You’re giving him the opportunity, he realises, the one chance to ask for what you both want. He’d be an utter fool not to take it.

“You can go out with me some time.”

And you don’t know if it’s his boldness, or those awfully big brown eyes, or maybe it’s both, but you’re suddenly speechless and can only nod, cheeks burning hot, until words find you again. Only one. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Eddie’s eyes widen, like he can’t believe his luck, because he truly can’t, and he’s fearless because of you, “it’s a date.”

You look to the floor, hiding your face, hiding a smile. “Sounds great.” And you make to the door; your heart in a frenzy inside your chest, blood rushing to your ears, numbing the sounds around you until Eddie’s voice calling your name reaches you crystal clear. 

“Hey! I don’t have your number…”

You turn around slowly, that mischievous glint back in your eyes. “I think you do. Good night, Eddie.” 

The door chimes when you push it, the sound of the late evening traffic coming in from the street until it closes again behind you. You don’t look back and leave him wanting, anticipating, the cogs turning in his head.

He looks down at the ripped paper he’s still holding like a trophy and, on a hunch, flips it around. There it is, in the same sloping handwriting.  Your phone number, with a little heart doodle at the end.

Eddie must be dreaming. Today is definitely a great day.

                                                  🌷 🌷 🌷

a/n: thank you so much for reading 💖 I really hope you like this one, and if you’re Gilmore Girls fans please let’s chat!  🫶🏻😇💖 As always, likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated and welcome.

[ruiniel]

Another Way- IX

Summary: what if someone in the 21st century stumbled upon this stranger during a turbulent storm, narrowly avoiding running them over, and what's more they can't understand a word coming out of their mouth.

Pairing: Alucard x Reader

Rating: Mature / 18+ only

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Explicit Language, References to Depression, First Meetings, character-meets-world, Near Death Experiences, References to loss, Grief/Mourning, Fantasy, POV Second Person, Language Barrier, Violence, Portal Fantasy, Isekai, Slow burn, More tags to be added

Also on ao3

AN:

Another one up. I bring some typical human behavior

IX.

You both enter your apartment in silence, locking the door behind Adrian. 

He turns around, looking at you, contrition in his eyes.

Your gaze slinks away from him as you drop your bag with shaking fingers, then pace over to the bathroom and close the door.

You wash your face with the coldest water, then take your sweet time staring in the mirror. “Okay, you’re fine. This is fine. Nothing happened.” Something awful could have happened, but it didn’t, right? You’re—possibly—still unharmed, thanks to him.

But the way he did what he did. The way he seamlessly hurled a grown man through the air like it was a cardboard figure, the crunch of bones in his grip and the deafening cries as proof.

Some aftermath of shock still sizzles through you as you walk back to the room. A thickness in your throat prevents you from swallowing properly, though you open your mouth to speak; saying nothing after all.

Adrian stands in the middle of the room, biting on his lip as you measure each other. He’s the first to break away, heading over to the kitchen table with languid steps, now even more unnerving and jarring in their elegance. There’s the agenda; he glances up at you meaningfully. 

He wants to ‘talk’ about it, then. You near with a sigh, take a seat and watch him scribble something.

“You are troubled.”

You close your eyes, frown. “Does that surprise you?” 

“No. And you have questions. As do I.”

He’s on the money so far. You quickly add: “Where did you learn to do that? Did you remember anything?”

Adrian stares at your phone screen, and a crease deepens between his brows as he ponders before glancing at you openly. Strange.

He writes: “I had sensed something amiss about them, from afar.”

“Not getting better,” you mumble. “Could you be more specific? What did you sense?”

He shakes his head as he pens: “I simply knew.”

Fine. At least he seems open about this. Either that, or you’re likely the biggest fool to walk the Earth for believing him. “Those fighting skills are not self-taught, though, are they?”

“I do not believe so.” Adrian glances down at his hand holding the pen, at the rings, shining stark and lonely against his skin.

You’re not as tense anymore, guilt creeping up on you instead; you’re trying to get information out of someone who’s clearly struggling. And based on what you see, this can’t be the face of a liar; your gut tells you so, and it’s rarely wrong when you deem to listen. But Adrian writes:

“I remember… part of a poem, I think. I remember a soldier.” 

You look at him, urging him to add more with a nod of your head. You’re not sure what to think (as usual around him), running over the letters again to make certain you’re reading right. “A soldier. Like an army soldier?”

He reads, nods. 

“Well, damn,” you say, rubbing at your temple. “A highly trained fighter, possibly a killer, in my kitchen.” Looking like a pup someone left for dead in the middle of the road. 

But you can’t seem to mistrust him, something inside always cries Stay, even when your body yells Flee. “I guess we’ll do what we can with that,” you say, then write, remembering. “Thank you for helping earlier. I never saw it coming, but you did.” For emphasis, you look him in the eye and say it. “Thank you.” You bring a palm to your chest, “Gratitude.”

Adrian tilts his head, mirrors your gesture. “... Thank you.”

“...no, no, you say ‘You’re welcome’.”

“You’re… welcome.”

You stare at him, your fright half-forgotten before this fresh development: his voice, producing sounds you recognize, rather pleasant ones at that. “You’re catching on fast.”

Adrian smiles. “Thank you.”

You huff a sudden snort of laughter. “Keep this up, and you’ll get a good grasp of it long before you leave.” Which can’t be soon enough, you think with a wryness that you regret. Out of habit, you reach for a remote and turn on the TV. 

Adrian is yet seated, writing in the agenda with his back turned away from the room.

“It’s interesting you had no ID tag on you,” you say as you absently look at the TV, the sole function of which is to sometimes run in the background while you do other things; at the moment, a random news channel is on.

The usual; your thoughts dwell on the following steps to take, to help Adrian and relieve you. He remembers not much, which is… obviously keeping things stalled.

If he’s telling the truth—but then, he appears honest, and that’s all you have to go by now, anyway. You’re about to turn away when something on the screen catches your attention.

You frown, watching the confusing images, turning up the volume as you read the written name of the area you recently visited.

… found beside Crimson Walk Road, the other abandoned in the depths of Black Hill forest.

“What…”

The two bodies were in a state of savage mutilation. Commissioner Arvan Trent stated the manner of injuries found show signs the perpetrator might be one and the same. Authorities are still searching the forest and surroundings…

The anchor’s voice drones through you like the deafening sounds of a helicopter landing. A crime?! A murder, no, two murders happened at the same time you went to Black Hill, staying at the cabin, with…

You’re shaking, mind in knots, trying to clear up dates and times as you turn towards Adrian, who’s still writing on the agenda, oblivious to anything else. You swallow, realizing that the timing does indeed align. You remember the blood you saw on him then, inexplicably not his own.

Maybe it’s just a coincidence—you pray it is, but considering what you’ve seen of this guy tonight, you wonder. And the thought won’t leave you be, even as you hurry to your desk and open a browser.

“Let’s see…” you look up homeless shelters throughout the city. “Identification required… Identification required… Come on…” You finally find one. “Identification not required.” You might as well try? Better than waiting, and doing this sooner than later feels best, though guilt gnaws at you—but he’s a fast learner, right? Seems to be, and… well, this wasn’t your choice. You don’t think you can be an emotional pillar to someone else, now, anyway. You turn in your chair slowly. “Adrian, we need to talk.”

He doesn’t look up from the page, but you go over to him, anyway. “Adrian?”

Adrian pauses in his writing just then, and hands you the agenda. “Yes?”

You blink. “A new word already, great. So umm. Listen, you can’t stay here.” You type it in, show him the phone.

Adrian frowns, bites his lip, though nothing else changes on his face. He nods, looks at his hand again, then writes. “Do you know where I could go?”

You ‘tell’ him—the same way you’d always given relatively bad news, focusing on the facts. “... and besides, I’m not allowed to have another resident here, if the landlord sees I could be in trouble and… will spare you the details. I’m sorry.”

No sooner does Adrian finish reading your words than he rises, walks over to the sofa and picks up his rucksack, then his coat, and looks back at you with a resolute expression as though saying ‘lead on.’

“Now? You wanna go now. Adrian, I didn’t mean—” you rub at your eyebrows, hating the language barrier on a visceral level by now as you resort to tapping on the phone: “Don’t you want to rest tonight? I can take you to the intake shelter tomorrow morning? I’m not kicking you out. You don’t have to go at this moment.” 

You all but thrust the phone into his hands, unsure why you’re irritated suddenly. Keep your head on. It’s not like you want to do this? If you were better in more ways than one, you’d gladly support him for longer, but—the word mutilated wavers in your mind, and if you’re a coward, you’d never been a more determined one. Mostly because you have to get a grip, and so far you haven’t, and two of a kind can lead nowhere good, you think. 

Adrian stares at you, standing still as stone. His gaze turns towards the door, and he murmurs something you, of course, cannot understand. 

“Look, I’m sorry. I—you know what? If you insist. Let’s go.” You reach for your bag again, then a light coat, and urge him to follow you outside. 

It’s quiet in the car, and you make a point of focusing on the road, the silence a weight you can’t bear and don’t get, because you barely met this person. “Come oon…” you mumble at a red light that seems to flash for too long, and you again notice the interest Adrian pours into his surroundings. But what if he needs help, professional help? You can’t give him that, someone has to take it from here. 

You’re becoming aware of this being a ploy of your mind to try and sweeten your half-assed choices, and you breathe in relief when the phone navigator signals your arrival (and startle when Adrian jumps in his seat at the voice).

“Okay, we’re here.”

As you enter, you see him following, looking around with an inquisitive expression. “Hey, look, I’ll help with the paperwork,” you turn around and stop him, finding his gaze.

Adrian stares down at you, then at your hand on his arm. 

You release him, and what he does next leaves you baffled: he reaches for his own hand, removing one of his gold rings, and is giving it to you. “What?! No, I don’t want it. No, no payment,” you push his hand away. “Look, I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” you say as his arm falls back to his side. “I hope you… find what you need. Nice knowing you, all right? Let’s do this and then I’ll go.”

It’s not until you’re walking back to the car, turning around to see him still standing outside the building, looking your way, that you allow yourself to feel the full breadth of dread at breaking off with a stranger who never felt like one.

~~

“This is fine,” you mutter in the car, taking another right. “You did the right thing, you did what you could—damn it!” you hit the brakes when a drunken jaywalker suddenly cuts your path, then watch them wobble away with a sigh. Your forehead thumps against the steering wheel. 

“There’s nothing to feel guilty about. Nothing at all, I can’t help him any more than I already did.” But the grating thought remains, that lingering regret heavier on you. He appeared so lost still, standing there watching you leave (at least, you thought he was looking your way). 

But you also remember the stiffness in him, the unwavering way he demanded you take him there, once Adrian understood what you tried to convey.

“Sorry if I hurt your feelings, buddy…” you offer to the windshield, more miserable than you remember in a long while.

When you finally return to the apartment, you crash onto the sofa—and without wanting to, the scent of him reminds you of the moment you finally unlocked a path to communicate. As you rub at your head, you notice you’re sitting on something—the agenda. 

He’s forgotten, or left it here, and that has you frowning. It was a way to get by, however tenuous, and who knows what he marked inside? Maybe he’ll need it?

No. This was it, this was the end of that little faux-twilight zone adventure. You’ll mind your own business, return to your lackluster days and carry on like you’ve always done, until…

Until, what? Something ‘better’ comes along?

You’ve already learned by now: nothing comes your way on its own. Nothing—or little—could you ever achieve without at least some amount of struggle. 

What if he really needs that goddamn agenda back?

You grind your teeth, mind working against the worry and inexplicable urge to go until something snaps, tethering you to a decision. 

You’ll be fast about it, and you’ll be back here in no time at all. You grab your car keys again and the agenda under your arm, missing the fading red glow at your window as the door slams shut behind you.

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X

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[junkiesdream]

journal entry from a while ago

we're sitting at the table and we're not focusing on

the same things

I pretend to be absorbed in my writing but I'm

looking at

you looking at your journal book

it's pink and on the nose

a little blush

but different than what you're used to doing just

slightly

even too rich in lightness a shade

you hold the cigarette in the wrong way between

your middle and ring fingers

having to curl your fingers in reverse so your lips

press against your knuckles to take a pass at the

white filter, the orange stem, a camel blue printed in

that weird way

it's like it was meant for you, built for you

because from far away, with the abnormal painting

of the cigarette, and your abnormal grip and

manipulation of the cigarette, It almost looks as if

you're holding a normal red

its usual spot it has the luxury of sitting in is usually

unperturbed in cold-dry nights, little shows at the

naked lounge, out of my window after I tell you

I'm not all that

it's been taken by your black ballpoint

bic Xtra or something, it didn't even have one of

those numbers printed on it asyou seem to be

laissez-faire about what pens you like,

as you don't draw

you do something much more visual to the words

you write

optical and yet somehow painfully subject

so blatant to the naked eye

and so unperceivable, and, origin untraceable

to the trained one

the smoke that punches out from the seafoamy,

sweaty looking filter didn't really seem to be hittin

your lungs

but rather breathing life into your big pupils and

your head's crown and your mercurial confidence in

your words

shooting through your veins with such fluidity as if it

had travelled down to your first and thumb

and the point brushes hard

contained to a diminutive perimeter of the lines of

your journal book

there's no song without words

and my mouth can only mutter pharisaic hot air

without yours to taste

yours to take it all away

the coffee would still sit on the table for you

I'd still paint your nails and make you pretty

you may never know the cold quiet comfort of being

between

you could take it all

and run, baby