#I may or may not have been inspired by my own tattoos | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gamarancianne · 10 months ago

Text

Azriel x reader - In Between part 2

Part 1

Summary: trying to regain your confidence after your broken heart, you met someone in the same position as you and developped one of the best friendships you had ever had. A genuine and sincere friendship. But this person may be closer by other ways to you than you thought.

Warnings: still angst, alcohol in a not healthy way, heartbreak again, hypocrite Elain (kinda slander ig), Lucien being the best.

Note: well maybe a part 3 ig 😅, I was really inspired tbh. Thank you all for having loved the part 1 and shared it with me ! Ily 💗💗 and don't hesitate to ask me something or chat with me in my inbox or dm, or in the comments !

You had been a crying mess for two weeks now, sometimes you went out in a bar to drink so much you would forget even your name. That was the point, forget the constant sting in your heart and you head. Forget him, his beautiful Hazel eyes and inked tattoos on his broad and golden chest. And here we go again: the tears flooded themselves on your face. It was a day to drink today, or tonight, you didn't really have a time notion for the past two weeks: waking up at dawn or dusk, eating, crying and sleeping. You had to forget about all those beautiful things about him, you had to empty your brain and heart. You didn't want to feel something again.

As you were walking to the nearest bar, you thought about those letters elain had sent you, saying you were her dearest friend and asking if your confession went well. You knew she knew that it was you in her apartment that cursed day, but she still pretended and even was saying the complete opposite of what she had said to azriel, falsely comforting you. Was she ever was your friend at this point ? Or has she always criticised and stabbed you behind you back ? Anyway you had decided that it was way better for you to ignore her and keep living your life, if you could still call what you were living a life, without her.

You didn't even noticed when you had arrived in front the door of the bar, but you did and entered, going directly to your now favorite spit in front of the barman : the alcohol was there easier to get. You didn't see then, the redhead man who was at the exact place you had been the few days prior. How dare he steal your chair like that ? Approaching slowly you stilled and you understood that this man was surely in the same situation as you, a heartbreak, seeing his bent frame and the many empty glasses in front of him. They could only have been his because no one was seated near him, and everyone was judging him. They were all avoiding the poor man whose name you didn't know.

"I was almost mad at you for stealing my favourite seat" you stated, seating next to him as his head shot to your side wondering if you were really talking to him.

"Yes I'm talking to you"

"Ah, I'm sorry for your seat do you want it back ?" He asked, genuinely embarrassed, his cheeks flushed.

"No I'm fine here, I can speak with you ...?" You asked ?

"Lucien".

"I'm yn, and as I was saying, I can speak with you here Lucien" he nodded.

"Nice to meet you yn, but you don't wanna talk to me, don't you see all the glares everyone sends me here ?" He drank in a one shot what seemed to be whisky and stared again at his now empty glass.

"Oh gods you men !" He looked at you confused "I know what I'm doing fuck ! I'm a grown up woman and I can make my own choices ! You re the second on in two weeks who tells me what I want or not." You snapped.

"Oh I'm sorry, then stay if you want." He apologized quickly.

You asked shots to the barman and stayed silent a bit nefore you both asked in one voice "what are you here for ?". You two chuckled a bit before you said "you first".

"Well I've kinda learnt that my mate, who knows that she is my mate is dating someone else. And I feel like I'm not allowed to have just once an ounce of happiness." You were hurt for him as you heard his story that he told you with a careless demeanor. He must really be at his lowest.

"Ouch that hurts, I'm sorry man. She's a fool if you want my opinion." He smiled sadly at your answer and pointed you from his chin asking you silently your story.

"Well im heartbroken as well, my best friend encouraged me confessing to the man I love, but he rejected me, and not in a nice way. But as lucky as I am, I learnt that he is dating my best friend who is a back stabber." I emptied my glass in one drink.

"Ouch that hurts too, I'm sorry." He said echoing my words.

We spent the night drinking, and drowning ourselves in alcohol but in a more joyful way than usually.

I then went more and more at the bar to see him, but we drank less and less, leaving place to real conversations between us. It became quickly a routine, and Lucien became one of my best friends, well my only friend of the time actually. And I was one of his only friend as well. Two broken hearts healing parts of eachothzr then didn't even break. Lucien had explained to me his family problem, and how his former male best friend was a toxic man in relationships, how he had been poorly treated in his biological family, and how his actual best friend was his mate's sister so he didn't know how to approach her anymore. He came a lot in my appartment to spend time with me, he even slept in sometimes, because he couldn't face his current family. He practically had his room in your home, some of his stuff never really left.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

After 2 knocks on your door you unwillingly got off your couch and opened it letting a wild and out of breath Lucien appear in front of it.

"Lu ? Are you okay ?" That was his new nickname, he loved it, because he felt like he was loved for once in his life.

"Yes.. no ? I need you to come with me like right now ! "

"Oh okay let me get me keys and I'm coming" you trusted Lucien too much to ever doubt about him, if he needed you then you were there for him.

You left your apartment and went to the direction he indicated. After a while you panicked a little, seeing that you were going to the high lord's house.

"Lucien you know I love you but where are we going?"

"To a family dinner, I can't go alone. See, my mate's relationship got complicated and she always complains to me when I'm alone, which is all the time. So I feel like I'm just a plan b and I'm really uncomfortable when she does it. Don't worry I've told them that someone was going with me."

"I understand Lu, but at the high lord's ?" You asked sceptical.

"Well yes, because my best friend I told you about is Feyre."

"What ?" Lucien, had never told the names of his family members, and you neither, so discovering that his friend was you high lady so that you were going to see Azriel made you weak to the bones.

"Lucien ? Your mate is Elain ??"

"What, yes ? How do you know ??" He exclaimed as he stopped on his tracks.

"She is the fake friend I told you about !" You answered on the same tone.

"So it means that.."

"I am in love with Azriel... yes."

"Oh gods" you both sighed.

"Hum yn ?" He asked unsure of what to say.

"Mmh"

"Have I told you that Cassian and him were the ones to get us to the house?"

"No, no, no. Please no ! But what would we even need to be picked up ?"

"We can't winnow so it's either that or climb 10 000 stairs".

Both fearing the fast approaching dinner, the last part of the walk was silent and the air heavy with tension. You held your breath when you saw two winged big figures, Cassian and Azriel. The first one shot his head in your direction and smiled confused.

"Yn ?" Azriel stiffened as he heard your name. "What does owe us the pleasure to see you ?"

"I'm the one to go with Lu today but I didn't know it was with you...". Azriel froze completely still turning his back to you. He wasn't sure it was you but now it was certain and he couldn't face you after the mean things he had said to your face. He hadn't talked about it to anyone except Elain and he kinda regretted it now. Things had got complicated between them because after your love confession she had grown so much jealous! He couldn't bear it anymore, he was a free man, he hadn't wings for nothing! They would argue a lot more and he hated that because it triggered bad memories in him. Plus he felt a bit bad about you. You hadn't done anything to him to deserve to be treated that way, he was ashamed of his actions because he knew that, as insecure as you seemed to be, you might have been spiralling since. That wasn't him, that wasn't how he was supposed to be. When he got Elain, she changed him a lot, and he wasn't sure anymore that it was for the good. She crushed all of his efforts to keep the bad parts of him inside. He was meaner, colder, he wasn't himself. Rhys have scolded him a little about that and he had really reacted in a bad way. An evidence of what Rhys had advanced. Azriel was sure he had made you feel bad, and he didn't want it : you were a nice and smart female, a little clumsy but still beautiful and lovely. As he finally turned to you, all of his regret splashed on him when crossing your look and seeing you pained eyes. You quickly put your head down and he felt even more bad to have made lose enough confidence for you to fear to hold his gaze. Thinking about it, he didn't understand you insecurity of the beginning, before the altercation. How could you, a very beautiful female, ever doubt about yourself ?

Realisation hit him, that he would have to take you flying because it would be awkward if he took Lucien, his girlfriend's mate. He knew she was complaining to him, and he felt even sorry for the poor Lucien. But a question lingered in his mind: how did you two know eachother ? And why the fuck would Lucien bring you to a family dinner ? Were you dating ? Fear crossed his eyes for a second before regaining his composure. You couldn't be dating Lucien, it was impossible, you had just said two weeks ago that you loved him. Could you have moved that fast ? It frightened him, knowing that he had grown to like you when thinking of your shared moments at training, where you two had laughed, sometimes until crying joy tears, and regretting the mean rejection he had given you in return of something so intimate and innocent as your love and devotion for him. Damn him he had even insulted you ! He cursed himself more and more until he got out of his head when Cassian called him.

"Azriel wake up ! You take yn." He said when shooting in the sky Lucien in his arms.

You both stayed in an awkward bubble, without moving an inch, avoiding the gaze of one another, for 30 long seconds that felt like hours.

"I'm sorry" and "so how are you doing" came at the same time from him side you. You awkwardly chuckled but he stayed still so you stopped finally having the guts to look at him in the eye for more than a millisecond.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, louder this time. You froze. You didn't want that to happen. You didn't want him to face you abut what happened. It would made it real, and you still hadn't enough courage for that.

"What for ?" You asked, your voice breaking.

"You what for".

You hesitated a lot before responding. "No actually I don't. Was it for mean rejecting me without an ounce of regret or nicenessin your words ? Or maybe the fact that you destroyed my confidence? Oh no ! I know, it was for the time you mocked me in front of my friend, who is in fact your girlfriend, and a fake friend!"

"You weren't supposed to be there that time." He said, suddenly finding the floor really interesting.

"Maybe but I was, so it's the same result and the same mean words that came out of your mouth."

He knew you were right. You were completely allowed to be mad at him for the way he treated you. But it was still hard. Azriel had never been in proper relationships nor had he ever been confessed to. It wasn't a proper excuse but it still made it hard to accommodate to those things for a boy deprived of love for all his life. He didn't know how to react, so to him, the better solution was to stay silent. You sighed, disappointed and he came awkwardly closer to you to hold you and shoot in the sky, following Cassian and Lucien, long arrived and waiting for you worried (especially Lucien).

Elain was waiting for Azriel, or Lucien, no one knew, on the balcony of the House of Wind and almost fell when she saw you. You in Azriel's arms, accompanying Lucien. Azriel struggled to let you go, especially after your conversation, but the second you were out of his hold, Elain held you in a crushing hug. You rapidly got out as well, feeling uncomfortable after her hypocrisy. You gave her a sad smile and Lucien introduced you to Feyre and Rhysand who had already told you to call them by their name, and to Mor and Amren. They all welcomed you warmly except Elain and Azriel of course who both looked like ashamed puppies with their tails between their legs.

After dinner, everyone went out in the garden for a tea and you found yourself on a couch behind Lucien sat on the floor. Automatically, because it was something you were now used to do, your hands found his head and started playing with his hair. Everyone had their eyes on you, confused on your proximity but you didn't notice and kept going on braiding his hair.

"I'll do yours later I promise" Lucien said, looking at you from above.

"I hope so !". Leaving everyone even more confused now.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

When you were ready to left with Lucien, Elain caught you and asked you to have a word with her.

Lucien gave you a worried look and you nodded making him understand you were okay for now.

She led you to a private room and paced in it awkwardly. She opened her mouth twice and closed it almost instantly like she wanted to say something but didn't know where to start.

"So, you ans Azriel ? Huh"

"You have actually no right to be mad at me." She cut you off.

"Excuse me ? But I have every right to be mad at you right now ! You have treated me poorly faking to be my friend and laughing at me when you should have been comforting me !" You snapped, angry.

"Well, it's not like someone could ever treat you well."

"What, what do you mean ?"

"Look at you yn, nobody would ever really be with you. You're not ugly but you're not beautifu, you're not dumb but you're not smart, you're just.. Well you. And that's clearly not enough." She looked at you disgustingly.

"But Lucien is treating me well.." You said tears welling in your eyes.

"Don't be blind, yn, he's a man, and like Azriel he will ran to me when he'll see that you're no longer interesting. You were nice and all, you listened to me but I guess I just got bored of you, anyone would." And with that she left the room, leaving 8 pairs of eyes on you as she opened the door. They instantly approached you, Feyre apologising a thousand time for the mean behaviour of her sister and Azriel staying in the back, his eyes full of worry and apology. He was trying to make you feel like everything she had said was false, that you were so much more than that, worthy of the stars,of two shining stars. Because yes they had heard everything. Lucien made his way to the crowd of his family surrounding you and hesitated before he hugged you out of nowhere. Azriel clenched his jaw and his hands turned into fists. When Lucien released you of his grasp, your expression hadn't changed, its like you were empty, just one single tears had escaped your eye. Cassian and Azriel flew you to the ground of Velaris and the last one had kept his hand on yours to make you look at him.

"I'm sorry, for what she said. It's not one bit true."

"Don't worry, she's surely right..." You had answered your gaze falling on his hand. You had never noticed the scars an them, they were so beautiful, so textured, so unique. You eyes widened at the sight and Azriel quickly hid them behind back before keeping going.

"No she wasn't, please don't doubt yourself because of what came out of her mouth because of jealousy. Because that's what she was and still is, jealous."

"Thank you Az really." You sadly smiled at him before joining Lucien who was waiting for you.

He didn't know why, but something clicked in him seeing you walk away under the arm of Lucien and hearing again his nickname from your mouth. He thought it rolled well on your tongue and really wanted to hear it again, as soon as possible. And it tensed him a lot to know that this man who touched you, was probably sleeping at yours tonight, maybe in your bed to comfort you after this emotionally hard day. It puzzled him a lot and didn't even know why, until his shadows came to his ears and murmured repeatedly "want to be him".

Tag list:

@kalulakunundrum

#acotar #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel x yn #elain archeron #lucien x reader #inner circle #morrigan #nesta archeron #feyre archeron #rhysand #cassian #amren #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar x y/n #writing #writers on tumblr

385 notes · View notes

killerlookz · 5 months ago

Text

Joost Klein x Goth!Gf Headcannons

content: SFW and NSFW headcannons below the cut, 18+ MDNI, this work contains rpf and has been tagged as such, do not continue if that makes you uncomfortable

SFW Headcannons

You're pretty much his personal makeup artist now, anytime he wants to do his fun little facepaint looks (like the mime or kiss makeup) you're the first one he's asking to help him out

He absolutely doesn't mind you kissing him with your lipstick on and is in no rush to wash off the dark-colored lipstick prints you leave on his cheeks after you do so, sometimes letting them sit there for hours while he goes about his day.

You can't tell me that this man doesn't absolutely love going to the goth clubs. It's definitely a different speed than he's usually used to, and some of the music may be a little slow for his taste but that man just absolutely loves dancing and the nightlife in general.

He definitely dresses up to "fit in" to go to the goth clubs too! Putting on whatever black items he can find in his closet, usually a pair of rugged black jeans adorned with a thick belt either studded or with a big buckle and some black shirt he spent far too much money on. He usually ends up looking more like he's about to join Opium or Drain Gang than he does goth, but your heart entirely melts at the fact that he's trying.

You absolutely inspire him to buy a pair of New Rocks (side note im actually surprised ive never seen him in new rocks they're very his style lol) and he just absolutely towers over you in them, which he finds very amusing (cue him teasing you about being "short" even though the platforms of those shoes are like 10 cm, making him like 198 cm/ 6'5)

If you are wearing big shoes and they start to hurt he will absolutely carry you back to wherever you need to go- The same goes for if you're breaking in new shoes- you're out and about together and all of a sudden you start treading behind him, walking awkwardly due to the blisters forming on your heels and the backs of your ankles- and he knows, you don't even have to say anything, he just stops dead in his tracks, and bends down for you to get on his back.

Thrifting/ DIYing dates!!! It becomes a tradition for the two of you to go out to thrift/consignment stores and pick out pieces for the two of you to style or DIY into something. He loves it especially when you DIY things for him, and always shows off the clothes/accessories you put together for him, "Oh you like my necklace? Yeah, my girlfriend made it for me."

He laces up your corsets for you! No longer do you need to struggle trying to reach behind your back to tie your corsets. He's always so delicate about it too, "You're sure I'm not squeezing you too tight?" Running his hands all along your sides and your hips after he finishes tying it shut.

He definitely just thinks you are so cool, despite having his own unique style himself, he is just in so much awe of you being yourself, and just genuinely finds you to be the coolest person on Earth, whether its the way you do your makeup, or dress, or the music you listen to, he's just obsessed.

He'll absolutely tease you a little bit though, cue him singing "Because toniiiight will be the noiiight that I will fall for yewwww over agaiiiin" at you because he knows it pisses you off *just a little* you'll chastise him for that being emo not goth, but he still finds it funny regardless, and he loves seeing that little smile you give him when you're trying to pretend to be mad at him, but really you're holding back a laugh

He loves when you wear his necklaces or his fancy belts to accessorize with

Getting tattoos together is a muuuust, he's not so into the idea of matching tattoos, but just spontaneously on a whim being like, "hey do you wanna get another tattoo today?"

NSFW Headcannons

You CANNOT count how many new fishnet tights you've had to buy from Joost being far too impatient to get you undressed, bending you over, lifting up your skirt and just ripping the flimsy fabric open, not even bothering to take them off of you.

However, when the sex is more romantic he absolutely loves taking his time with you, so delicately removing each of your layers (and us goth girlies know... we wear a looot of layers lmaoo) he just loves being all sensual about it, he also just for sure enjoys teasing you with how excruciatingly slow he is about it.

Loves seeing how much he can ruin your makeup, whether its smudged lipstick or eyeliner dripping down your face, the messier the better.

In addition to fucking up your makeup he loves when you go down on him while you're wearing lipstick, the way your lipstick smears as you take him in your mouth, god he finds it so hot.

Obsessed with when you wear leather or latex!! Oof the way the tight, shiny material hugs your body, he cannot get enough, and honestly is ready to take it off of you the second you slip it on.

He absolutely adores you in lace too (especially black lacey lingerie) when you wear lacey tops with nothing but a bra underneath... (same can be said for a fishnet top) oooooh girl he is absolutely feral, the way you're technically "covered" but still exposed in all the right spots... whew

If you have long/pointy nails he looves feeling you dig them into him as he fucks you,

Whenever the two of you go out to the goth clubs things definitely get very steamy, always ending up with his arms wrapped around your waist and your ass pressed against his crotch as your bodies move together to the dark, slow, synthy music.

He loves it when you bite him! Always calling you his little vampire as you suck on his neck, leaving pretty little lovebites and lipstick smudges on his skin. (vampire/blood kink goes brrrr wait what who said that hAHAHHAHHA)

Fucking to goth music is a MUST... not sorry about it, bands like Depeche Mode and She Wants Revenge are top tier sex music, him mumbling along to Tear You Apart, his lips pressing into your neck, sending vibrations down your spine as he slowly undresses you.

Also fucking while watching horror movies hehehehe, there's just something about the suspense and tension that gets your blood going, one second you're watching the TV anxiously, and the next second he's on top of you as you're begging for him to please fuck you.

#joost klein #joost klein x reader #joost klein smut #joost klein x f!reader #joost klein rpf #rpf

343 notes · View notes

mapileonxputellas · 1 year ago

Text

Beckham II: 1 New Beginning

Please find instagram aesthetic here.

Post here explains how I've wrote it, I think it's quite simple.

This is the first part of my new series and I hope you enjoy xx (3k words)

“Do you ever think about how crazy it is that you’re an icon in Barcelona and yet your dad played for Real Madrid?”

“I try not to think about that. I think that bothers him more than me.”

“Does he have any Barcelona shirts?”

“Of course he does.”

…..

“David, how does it feel watching your daughter play for Barcelona?”

“It’s the best feeling in the world. I’m guessing you were expecting some kind of rivalry but I’ll always support my daughter.”

…..

Barcelona, February 2023.

One down, nine to go.

It was like clockwork in your brain. Training would finish, everyone else would rush to get back into the training room and get back to their everyday life. Yet here you were, on your own, just how you like it. You and the ball. Free kick after free kick after free kick. Ten in total, all from different areas, all with different aims but each one just as equally important in your brain.

Barcelona was a dream. You were here with the best players in the world but you hated letting anyone down. Every little mistake was over-analysed, picked at all because of who you were. At the weekend it was a wonder save which stopped one nestling in the top corner but that didn’t matter. It hadn’t gone in and therefore didn’t meet your expectations.

The expectations you put on yourself, multiplied by that moment four years ago.

You loved your father but many people probably didn’t understand that there wasn’t a gene for taking good free kicks.

Unbeknownst to you, all of this was about to change. “You’ve got a visitor.”

“If it’s another journalist, tell them I’m not interested.”

You couldn’t be bothered with whatever reply the press officer would tell you. It was the same every day. Someone wanted to speak to you, you said no. They came back the next day.

You’d think they’d get bored after four years of consistent turn aways but that was never the case. You did the press conferences, the interviews after games but a sit-down full-length interview was not something you felt like you could ever handle.

So you carried on, resetting the ball in the correct spot. Back to just you and the ball.

For February it was a sunny afternoon in Barcelona, the sun was still shining for the mid-afternoon with minimal wind. Perfect conditions to practice and as your teammates had pointed out you hadn’t needed any more persuasion to get that training vest on, your tattoos on full show. Along with football they were your biggest passion, your phone was full of tattoo inspiration and little doodles you did when you were bored, they were a big part of you and maybe the image you wanted to create for yourself.

You took inspiration from everything, football, the environment, your father. Growing up many would say you were already a carbon copy of him but the tattoos were the icing on the cake. Your mother may not have been as happy about them but they promised to accept all your passions and that included turning up every few months with a new collection of tattoos to show off.

…..

“Maria, is she copying you?”

“You’ll have to ask her. No of course not, I would say we take great inspiration from each other. We’ve got a few matching ones, I’ve done a few on her and she’s done the same to me. That’s kind of what started our friendship.”

“You both have ‘looks can be deceiving’ on your necks, is that true for her?”

“Depends on what you think of her. Maybe some find her scary but you have to find out if that’s true yourself.”

…..

You could hear someone approaching you, watching as you took the next kick nestling it into the bottom corner underneath the imaginary wall.

“Y/N, have you got five minutes?” The unmistakable voice of Sarina. Many people would love Serena Weigman to turn up at their training session, not you. Not now.

Shit. You almost didn’t want to turn around. Maybe if you stayed facing the other way she would leave. Leave you be in the bubble you’d created for yourself, nothing good could come out of this conversation.

But of course the Dutch woman wasn’t going to leave that easily, edging closer to you. “I only want to talk.”

“I gave you my answer a year ago.”

“Lots can change in a year. Five minutes. If you still want me to leave after, I’ll leave.”

Maybe it was worth hearing what she had to say. Nothing could change your mind anyway, you’d hear whatever she had to say and then she could leave.

You knew what she was here for and it didn’t surprise you what came out of her mouth next. “I want you back, I name my squad next week and I want you ready to play for us at the World Cup.”

“And I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“The fans are not that accepting, the players don’t deserve to be drawn into that drama because of me.”

“There’s always drama in football.” Maybe she had a point but off the back of the Euro’s success the lionesses have had nothing but positivity from the media and public. “We’ve lost Beth, we’ve lost Fran and I think the players would welcome your experience in that position. It’s your decision but I know deep down you want to prove people wrong and I want to give you that opportunity.”

“Some would say I don’t deserve that.”

“It will be different this time.”

“How?”

“It’s been four years, everything’s changed. We protect you guys, you have support systems in place, we have support systems. It’s not individuals anymore, it’s a team.”

“I made that decision to protect myself.” Almost four years ago you’d sent that letter, asking not to be selected for international duty again. They had no choice but to accept it and when Serena came into the role she approached you but you told her a tournament on home soil was not something you could mentally cope with. Not yet. “Why would now be different?”

“I’ve watched every game you’ve played in the last 18 months. I know you may not see a difference in yourself but I do, the interview after you lost to Lyon showed your spirit, your drive. I need players like you, it won’t be easy but I don’t want something that happened four years ago to stop you showing the world how talented you are.”

You were conflicted. Of course you’d love nothing more than to prove all those who bashed you before wrong, to make a difference on the world stage after winning every trophy you could with Barcelona. On the other hand it was just opening a can of worms you’d hidden all those years ago. Although you were only in Spain it felt like a different world, you turned your comments off on social media and they never came back on. Interviews were a no-go and your former friends were now distant acquaintances.

“Can I think about?”

“Of course you can. Like I said, the squad goes out on Tuesday so I need an answer by Monday. Any questions, I’m coming to the match on Sunday, maybe I can speak to you after?”

“Thank you.” With a soft squeeze to your shoulder she was off, except now you couldn’t focus knowing you were about to make a decision which would change everything.

…..

“You seem distracted.”

In hindsight it probably wasn’t the best idea to accept the dinner invite from Maria and Ingrid but you knew your best friends wouldn’t take no for an answer. The three of you along with Frido were sat at their dinner table, tucking into the tapas you’d ordered from your favourite restaurant and it wasn’t lost on any of them how your mind was elsewhere. Casually picking through your food was a total opposite to the way you usually devoured this.

“Y/N?”

You’d been debating on the way whether to speak to someone about it.

Maybe your dad? He’d gone through something similar but he was in Miami and would only just be getting up.

Your mum? She was the most rational option but she would never understand that pride of pulling on your national shirt.

Your therapist seemed the best option but the earliest session she had for non-emergencies was tomorrow.

“Y/N!” In your own little world you’d even forgot to answer their questions. “Are you alright?”

It could help speaking to them, couldn’t it? “I had a visitor after training. Sarina Weigman.”

“Shit man, I thought you said no.” Maria Leon was your best friend from the moment you stepped foot in that training room, you bonded over everything from tattoos to food. You’d been her wingman in getting with Ingrid and had a mutual understanding of each other’s situations with your respective national teams even if the circumstances were very different.

“She wants me back but I don’t know, this feels different from last year.” If Bonnie, your 5-year-old beagle, adopted 3 years ago to signify a new chapter in your life, wasn’t by your feet they would definitely be anxiously tapping the floor right now.

“They probably feel your absence more because they’ve lost other players.” Frido added some context. “Not that you wouldn’t have always walked into that team but now you definitely would. You’d be their main player.”

“I can see you’re considering it.” Ingrid pointed out. “When she came last year I could see you were like, definitely no, now you haven’t turned it down immediately.”

“There’s no right or way wrong to feel,” Maria tried to comfort me. “Only you can decide if you want to go back there.”

“I miss it.”

“Of course you do.” Ingrid agreed. “You wouldn’t watch all their games if you didn’t.”

“It’s just the fact that I’m comfortable here, I have been for so long and now I’m going to throw myself back into four years ago.” Four years ago when you’d been forced to move away from your club at the time in Chelsea and accept the fact that one mistake had changed everything. “Plus the media attention, no-one wants that in the lead up to the world cup.”

“They were your friends, I’m sure they’d understand.” Frido tried to make you see that side of things. “Shit happens in football but what happened to you when completely over the top of that.”

“I isolated them.” Of course you had friends in the squad at the time, in fact best friends. But as soon as you made the move to America you slowly distanced yourself from them as they did to you. You hated letting them down and completely understood that being associated to you meant unnecessary exposure where perhaps they would not want it.

“So you’ll make friends again.”

You’d changed as well, grown into a completely different person in that time. Your appearance and attitude on the pitch were a distinct opposite to the crippling shyness you had yet to shake off. “Maybe.”

“You will,” Maria assured you. “Plus I think Bonnie told me she wanted a sleepover with me.”

“Oh did she?”

“I’m not swaying you either way but if that’s what you want, I’ll support you all the way.”

“We all will.” Frido added wrapping her arms around you to bring you into her side. “We love you.”

“Thank you, I love you all too.”

“Speak to your dad, maybe even your mum. I’m sure they’d want to help.”

One of the funniest moments in your life had to be watching your teammates introduce themselves to your parents when they came out to watch your first match in the Blaugrana. Watching their nerves dissipate when they realised how down to earth, especially your mother was, when it came to their children. Of course their name brought so much extra attention to you but you couldn’t have asked for a better upbringing.

Maybe it was their words that made you do it but subconsciously you knew the best thing to do was to ring them. So as you got into bed that night, once you got back, Bonnie at your feet watching, you rang the number you’d had memorised for years.

“Hi baby.” His voice almost brought tears to your eyes. Although you tried to be as independent as possible, wanting to be your own person, you sometimes wished you could just go back to spending every night in his arms.

“Hi dad.”

“What’s wrong?” You hated how easily he could read you, how those two words were enough for him to know something was wrong.

“It’s nothing.”

“You know you can tell me anything.”

“I know dad.” Out with it. “Sarina Weigman came to visit me today, she wants me to go and join them in the next international break.”

“And what do you want?”

“I think I want to.”

“You think?”

“I just know that if I do I’m just going to be brought back to that moment.”

“Then you’ll go back to a moment where the referees made a terrible decision. Football fans are fickle you know that as much as I do but you’ve watched it back enough to know that nine times out of ten nothing happens. The commentator did you no favours, Phil didn’t stand by you as he should have and the media hung you out to dry.”

“I know.”

“But as awful as it was it made you the person you are today and your stronger now then you’ve ever been before. If you want to go back then you’ll make it work. I know you will.”

“Thanks dad, now how is…”

,,,,,

“How many times have you watched that tackle back?”

“Over a thousand times.”

“Do you think you should have been sent off?”

“Of course not.”

……

You loved Barcelona, from the moment you stepped through those doors 3 years ago you’d been welcomed in and never looked back. In 2019 you moved to America but your year out there was plagued with depression and homesickness resulting in a lack of game time, when Barcelona came calling it was a difficult decision with your family ties but they had a project, they had a good set up and you knew the onus wouldn’t just be on you. The first six months were still tough, working out Spanish football to both play with your teammates and counter the opposition but by the end of the season you felt at home for the first time in 2 years.

Your role this year had been heightened by the loss of one of your midfield partners in Alexia, but you were adaptable and that’s probably how you found yourself 4-0 up, having just scored a second goal in the second half.

“It’s almost like you’re trying to impress someone.” Mapi whispered giving you a half hug as you walked back into your own half.

“Shut up.”

“I bet she’s panicking that you might turn it down now.”

“She’s got other players Maria.”

“But none of them are you.”

The match stayed at 4-0, some of the youngsters coming on to see the game out.

You’d never been in a team like this, of course you had little arguments and there were small groups within the team, but everyone worked so hard for each other. And with that came the protectiveness, when you joined you were only 21, now 24 and the older ones took you under their wings. You’d been daunted a lot at the fact of playing fellow English players in the Champions League but they’d been your shield for those moments.

It blew your mind when the younger age groups joined you and they speak about that moment. Most of them staying up late to watch it making you feel old. But that meant they came to you for advice a lot of the time. Maybe this time though it was time to get advice from them.

“Hey little one.” Maria Perez was the first one you spotted in the changing room. “You played really well today.”

“Thank you.”

“How are you feeling about being called up?” It was only yesterday that the Spanish squad had been leaked and she was once again in it.

“Excited, another opportunity to prove myself.”

“I like that you see it that way.”

“Everyone should, it’s no different to playing here, as long as you be yourself you can never be disappointed.”

…….

@jillsmithjournalist: Serena Weigman is present at the Barcelona match. No current England players are playing however star player Y/N Beckham scored twice. Beckham has not played for England since she withdrew from selection in August 2019 amid public backlash and a rumoured feud with England manager Phil Neville. Could a return be on the cards?

@newlionesses_x: Surely she can’t just pick and choose when to come back.

@wslfan: Fine without her last year

@england123: Liability for England

@barcelonafan: All you hating on Beckham are crazy, one of the best players in the world and you don’t want her back because of something that happened 4 years ago, grow up. Could tell she struggled when she joined us but this past year she’s been exceptional, people change, mistakes happen (even though she should never have been sent off in the first place)

…..

You’ve known your decision for a long time but you still delayed giving it as long as possible before you could wait no longer. You could see she was the only one left in the hospitality area as you entered, the table she had chose overlooking the pitch you’d just performed on.

This was what you wanted and now it felt only right to give yourself that opportunity again.

“I’ll do it.”

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #woso imagines #barcelona femeni #lionesses #engwnt #david beckham #beckham #football

727 notes · View notes

disillusioneddanny · 2 years ago

Text

This was inspired by this post. This will also be turned into a multi chapter fic on my ao3. You can subscribe here

But enjoy <3

Tw: talks of vivisection and abuse

Harley Quinn stumbled through the streets of Amity Park, newborn baby clutched to her chest as she furiously checked over her shoulder to make sure no one was following her. She had done it, she had finally gotten away from Mr. J for good just six months before. If he came lookin’ for her, she would be able to handle him on her own, especially with the help of Ives. But Danny wouldn’t be able to do jack shit against his crazed sperm donor. So, Harley was doin’ what she thought would be best. She was going to ask her step-brother and see if he and his wife could take him.

If anyone would be able to protect her baby it would be Jack Fenton, her step-brother was a hulking giant of a man and while his aim may have been shit, his wife’s wasn’t. The two were scientists, ghost hunters if Harley remembered right and they would be just crazy enough to think Mr. J was a ghost if he showed his slimy face around Amity Park.

“Don’t worry Danny, they’ll keep you safe, I promise. You’re never gonna have to worry about a crazy father tryin’ to kill you or use you for his own gain, I won’t ever let that happen,” Harley said quietly before pressing a soft kiss on her son’s head and knocked on the door of Fenton Works.

His father was trying to kill him. Danny allowed his sister to drag him out of Fenton Works and to her car, head spinning, lungs burning for oxygen. Telling his parents about his ghost form had gone bad, it had gone so, so, so bad and now Jazz and Danny were running for their lives as Jack Fenton shot another ectoblast at the siblings.

“Jazz, where’re we going to go? What are we going to do? You destroyed the portal,” Danny gasped out once Jazz had shoved him into the backseat of her beat up, gray, ‘78 Volkswagen Beetle. He scrambled in just as Maddie shot in the spot he had just been occupying, his sister grunted as she took the shot. While she was liminal, she still had enough human in her that it was nothing more than feeling like she got an instant sunburn.

Jazz slammed the door shut, ignoring the shouts from the Fentons behind her as she got around to the driver’s seat and sped off, tires spinning against the pavement.

“We’re going to Aunt Harley’s,” Jazz said determinedly.

“My mother?” Danny squawked from the backseat. “Didn’t Da-Jack say she was crazy?”

“Jack’s crazy Danny! He had you strapped to a table-” Jazz stopped herself as a guttural growl escaped her lips. “Whatever. Aunt Harley will be the best option. If anyone can keep us away from the Fentons it’ll be her.”

Danny slumped down in the backseat and finally looked down at the giant cut on his chest and let out a groan. His mother. Jack and Maddie had never hesitated to tell Danny where he had come from. Jack in particular boasted about how his poor, abused sister trusted him of all people to raise her baby and keep him safe from harm.

Joke’s on him apparently considering he was the very person who had managed to hurt Danny the most. Danny wasn’t stupid, though, he had heard about Harley Quinn. The psychiatrist turned villain who was now in her own way a hero but remained the self titled Queen of Chaos. He knew that his mother was dangerous, each time she had come to visit with her pasty white, tattoo covered skin, chemically bleached hair, and slightly crazed look in her eyes, Danny knew. He knew that the reason Dan was a reality was because of his genes, because of where he came from.

He had done everything he could to make sure he wouldn’t turn out like his mother. And if his suspicions were correct, he would do everything to make sure he didn’t turn out anything like his sperm donor. There was a reason Danny hated clowns and it wasn’t just because of Freakshow.

“Do you think she’s going to be happy seeing us at her house, though? Or Aunt Ivy? She’ll probably be annoyed that we dropped in unannounced,” Danny said before reaching down and grabbing the metal box that held his first aid kit. He used his powers to thread a needle with fishing wire and bit his lip hard as he forced the needle through his skin and started to sew up where his parents had started the vivisection. It would most likely scar but Danny didn’t want to think about that right now. Danny didn’t want to think about anything right now except for the fact that they were going to his mother’s house of all places.

“Danny, your mom adores you. She didn’t drop you off at the Fenton’s to abandon you. She did it to protect you. Aunt Harley knew that she wasn’t capable of raising a baby and she did the most responsible thing she could think of. But she loves you, she’s loved you from the moment you were born,” Jazz told him, glancing in her rearview mirror to watch her baby brother sew himself up as she sped down the highway.

“And how do you know that?” Danny asked, a hiss escaped from between his clenched teeth as he got to the worst part of the cut and continued with his sewing.

“Because I was there the night she brought you home. And I see it in her eyes when she comes to visit us. She loves you Danny, she was just in a bad situation,” Jazz reasoned, knuckles white on the steering wheel as she sped onto the onramp to start their journey from Amity Park, Illinois to Gotham City, New Jersey.

“And she’s just going to be happy to have her sixteen year old son randomly appear in her front door? She couldn’t take care of me then, what makes you so sure she can help us now?” Danny spat out as he finally finished his stitching and tied off the thread. He reached into the kit once more and grabbed a few of the antiseptic wipes that had been packed in and cleaned the ectoplasm-blood mixture off of his chest as best as he could before taping gauze to his chest. It wasn’t the best patch job and Frostbite would probably be horrified if he saw it, but it was the best Danny could do with a tiny first aid kit in the back of his sister's rickety car as she went well over a hundred miles per hour in a seventy.

“I think so, yeah,” Jazz admitted after a few minutes of silence. Danny let out a huff of a laugh as he struggled to sit up. “There’s a shirt in this bag,” she said, tossing him the backpack that sat in the passenger seat, the go bag for if the worst had ever come to fruition. Which it definitely had.

Danny dug through the bag and found the tried and true NASA shirt folded carefully within the bag and let out a sigh through nose as he carefully maneuvered around to get the shirt on without angering the stitches on his chest too much. Even if his mother wasn’t happy to see them or able to take care of them, she’d be able to help. She was a better option than any other.

Vlad was completely out of the picture. Dani was ancients only knew where and she wouldn’t have been able to do much anyway. Sam and Tuck still didn’t even know what had happened and Danny hadn’t decided how he was going to deal with that. Aunt Alicia would most likely call mom-Maddie if she saw them on her doorstep.

Aunt Harley was their only option now that the portal was destroyed and Danny certainly did not have the strength he would need to open a portal. Plus, Gotham had plenty of ambient ectoplasm according to Tuck’s research.

When they had first made this plan, Tucker had looked into any place that came close to having the same amounts of ectoplasm as Amity Park and Gotham had been number one on the list. So at least Danny had that going for him.

“I’m going to try to get a little bit of rest, getting cut open drains a guy,” Danny said with a chuckle, pressing the backpack into the car seat and carefully laid back down. “When I wake up, we can switch and I can drive for a bit. You need rest too.”

Jazz simply hummed in response and said nothing more as her little brother settled into the backseat and allowed sleep to take over.

“I told you I could have helped drive here,” Danny muttered as Jazz pulled into a shady looking, nondescript building.

“Danny, you had to sew yourself back up in my backseat. You needed the rest far more than I did, besides, no use in complaining, we’re here now,” Jazz said, glancing back at the tired, pouty look on her brother’s face and smiled. “Aren’t you excited to see your mom and Aunt Pam?”

“Is she technically my stepmom?” Danny asked once Jazz put the car in park and shut off the engine. She got out and went around to Danny’s door and helped her baby brother out of the car.

“Technically?” Jazz said, crinkling her nose as she thought it out. Yeah, that would make the most sense anyway. “Are you okay?” She asked as Danny winced, pressing a hand to his chest as he climbed out of the small car and leaned heavily against Jazz’s side.

“Yeah, just hurting,” he murmured and shook his head as if that would get rid of the pain. “Let’s just go.”

Jazz gave her brother a concerned look but locked her car nonetheless and started to help the boy up the stairs before she rung the doorbell.

The two tensed as they listened to footsteps stomp their way.

“Look, I’m Jewish, I ain’t interested in that Jehovah’s Witness shit,” they heard Harley shout before the door swung open.

Harley’s jaw fell open as she froze in place at the scene in front of her. The two teenagers were quite the sight. Harley had never seen the usually put together Jasmine look so frazzled as long as she had known her niece. Her son was in even worse states, if the eyebags on his face, the strange blood and green stains on his shirt, and panting told her anything.

He looked up at her tiredly, the dark circles under his eyes even darker than she had initially noticed. “Hey mom,” he said with a huff, hanging from Jasmine’s shoulders.

“Aw fuck, come in, come in,” Harley said wearily, ushering the two into the building. “Ives! I need your help!”

Harley carefully moved her niece out of the way before she quickly lifted her son into her arms and started down the hallway. “It’s okay Danny, Mama’s gotcha,” she murmured, cradling the sixteen year old boy to her chest as she carried him bridal style. Jazz followed her aunt as they made it to the living room just as Ivy came out of the bedroom looking confused.

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, though, as she spotted the three before her. “Shit, I’ll get the salves,” she stated before her eyes landed on Jazz. “Come help me?”

Jazz looked between her aunt and her brother before looking back at Ivy and gulped, nodding her head once before following the eco-terrorist back into the bedroom.

“Oh sweetie,” Harley murmured, carefully setting Danny on the beat up couch. “Baby what happened to you?”

“Jack and Maddie happened,” he said with a hiss as his mother raised his shirt and took in the cuts that had been sloppily stitched up.

Harley’s eyes flicked between the incision that seeped red-green liquid and Danny’s pained face. “Jacky boy did this to you?”

Danny nodded, letting out a whimper. “It’s a long story,” he said as his mom traced a finger over the cuts, the pieces connecting in her brain.

Harley Quinn was a lot of things but she was not stupid. She may not have gotten the chance to visit her son as often as she wanted but the last time she had seen him she had noticed something was different about him. She had been around Ivy long enough to know when someone had gained powers that they barely had control over. She had noticed the way her son’s eyes would flash a startling green whenever his emotions got out of hand. Noticed the way he was colder than before and how his shoulders looked as though they carried the entire world on them.

She didn’t know what had happened to her son or what it had done to him, but she knew he was more than human now. She had seen that plenty of times before. And it looks like the Fentons had discovered this and decided that Danny was one of their new experiments.

“You’re dead, aren’t you?” She asked bluntly, recognizing the toxic ectoplasm that seemed from between her son’s stitches. “Not all the way but somethin’ happened and they didn’t like it.”

“Yeah. I uh, I was fourteen, didn’t kill me all the way, just enough for me to be considered a ghost and you know how mom-Maddie and Jack are about ghosts,” Danny said just as Ivy and Jazz came back with towels, wet rags, and salves to cover the incisions.

Harley raised her eyes from Danny’s wounds and looked her son in the eyes. “I’m gonna kill ‘em,” she snarled, snatching a wet rag from Ivy and started to better clean the wound. “I’m gonna murder them and then when they turn into ghosts I’ll give ‘em a taste of their own medicine,” she said, hands gentle as she cleaned around the wound.

“You’re going to need to redo those stitches,” Ivy said softly, sitting beside Danny’s head and taking it in her lap as she ran her fingers through the black locks, trying to distract her wife’s son from the stinging pain he was likely feeling.

“There’s no point, the wound will be closed by tomorrow,” Jazz said quietly and handed a warm, dry towel to Harley after she had finished cleaning the incisions and carefully patted the skin dry. She then took the salve and carefully coated it over her son’s chest.

“Don’t kill them,” Danny said quietly, taking his mother’s hand in his and squeezed the pale hand in his. “Just, mom, just protect me. Please?” He asked, voice cracking slightly.

Harley let out a sigh and squeezed her son’s hand tight. “Baby, I’ll always protect you,” she promised, still feeling her chest burn in anger at the fact that her step-brother, the one person on this earth she had trusted to take care of her son had caused him this much pain. Jack and Maddie Fenton would rue the day they hurt Harley Quinn’s baby.

#dp x dc #DPXDC #dc x dp #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fanfiction #dc x dp prompt

1K notes · View notes

shixcherie · 25 days ago

Text

Sweet Like A Cherry| Kim Hongjoong ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆☆ NOTE : I want to take a moment to apologize for any confusion caused by the overlapping scenes in my fic with @ja3hwa's dilf series. It was never my intention to cause any misunderstandings or plagerise her beautiful works. She has been a huge inspiration to me, and having read her fics in the past, I realize that some ideas may have stuck in my mind while writing this one.

I've worked hard to change those scenes completely and take the story in a more mysterious and mafia direction, which I had initially planned.

Also, a big thank you to @whatudowhennooneseesyou for helping me recognize the similarities and pointing me in the right direction. I truly appreciate it.

I hope you can overlook this minor mistake and continue to support me as I move forward. Your love for my work means the world to me!

Thank you and sorry again @ja3hwa

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 11 : Age Gap, Dilf

↬ [ Synopsis ] : A birthday fling with Hongjoong takes a shocking turn when you realize he's your dad's best friend and he's hiding some dangerous secrets. Now, trapped on a family yacht, your growing desire for him becomes impossible to resist, unaware that someone has been watching both of you closely.

☆ Word Count : 2.4k ☆ Genre : Smut. Some Plot. ☆ Pairing : Dilf!Hongjoong x F.Reader [ Park Y/N, Seonghwa’s daughter ]

☆ ☆ ☆ WARNINGS : Dad’s best freind Joong. Joong is on the run from someone. Stalker-ish, someone is watching you both closely. Mutual Masturbation, but reader is unaware of him watching her. Cum play.Mentions of alcohol.Nipple play.Dirty thoughts and fantasies. Pet names (honey, baby). Sir kink. Hongjoong is in his late 30s and he is nasty while reader is only 23 (Oopsie, but enjoy). Mildly Noncon (no permissions were asked).

Tag list OPEN! - let me know if you want to be tagged for this Kinktober list

“Cheers to 23!!!” all your friends screamed as tequila shot glasses clunked together, celebrating you. You had just turned 23, and what better way to celebrate than throwing a huge party at Havana, the finest club with the best cocktails and liquor in town?

Your dad, Seonghwa, had suggested a birthday yatch trip, butyatches you can do anytime, your dad owning a big private one. You can’t celebrate your 23rd with all your friends in town just whenever, so you politely declined, asking to postpone it for another day. But there was one more reason as well.

Your friend group has a tradition, kinda stupid, but spicy. The birthday girl has three tasks for the evening:

First, drink the Havana exclusive, El Fuego del Caribe, a signature cocktail known for its fiery blend of rum, chili-infused tequila, and a splash of tropical juices.

Second, engage a stranger in conversation and buy them a drink.

Third, get a picture clicked while having some kind of fun together, the kind of fun you can decide.

Being the least experienced with relationships in the friend group, this turned out to be a daunting task for you, especially the third one.

Anyhow, this birthday girl pulled them all off.

The intense yet exciting task list started with you approaching the bartender, plopping yourself at the bar, and winking at him. That’s how you ask for Havana’s exclusive, and when he winks back, consider your order taken. That was easy, first task, done!.You downed the drink at once, your friends watching from their table. The alcohol burned your throat as it went down, sweet and spicy with a sour aftertaste.

Now, time to catch a stranger for a fun night. As your eyes wandered around the club, checking out some sexy guys, you spotted this man eyeing you from the other end of the bar. You threw him an alluring smile as you studied him. He looked to be in his late 30s, well-built, with a left brow slit, tattooed arms, and to seal the deal, a very inviting devilish smirk. An overall yummy demeanor.

Let’s go with him.

He came and sat down next to you, and a very engaging, flirty conversation swooned you both into a small bubble of your own. You learned his name was Hongjoong, and that he had just come back into town after almost a decade in the States.

Hongjoong was captivated by you the moment he took a sip of the drink you bought him. Your charm, the way you carried the conversation, and just how beautiful you were, it all aligned perfectly with what he desired in a woman.

After hours of talking and throwing back shot after shot, things were a bit hazy for him, but one thing was crystal clear: he was hooked. He flirted shamelessly, and you only encouraged it, turning playful teasing into something more when you grabbed his arm and led him to the private room, ready to check off the last item on your list.

Ahhh… the fun you both had.

—

Waking up with a throbbing headache, you vaguely remembered being dropped off at home by your friends, Hongjoong’s face flashing across your mind as a smile crept up.

He was perfect. But there was a teeny tiny problem, you couldn’t remember what exactly you both did, or if you actually took the picture.

Feeling a little sad that you might not see him again, you walked into the living room where breakfast was being served, only to see a familiar face. Hongjoong, sitting right there with your dad in the living room, deeply engrossed in conversation.

Why is he here? Did I drag him back home? Why are he and Dad talking like they're best friends?

As you nervously approached them, their eyes landed on you. Hongjoong’s face paled, the blood rushing from his face as his eyes widened, mirroring your nervous expression. He recovered himself quickly.

“Ahh, Y/n! You’re up. Hongjoong, meet my daughter. Y/N, this is my best friend Hongjoong, he's finally back from the States after almost a decade,” Seonghwa introduced, oblivious to the fact that you two had already met.

“Hello, Y/n.” Hongjoong said, his voice firm, almost neutral, but with a tiny smirk on his lips as he extended his hand for you to shake.

“Hi, nice to meet you...umm...” you took his hand, unsure of what to call him.

“You can call me Hongjoong.” he assured you, his grip firm, sending jolts of electricity through your body. Pulling your hand back slightly, you went to sit at the breakfast table, sneaking glances at Hongjoong from time to time, his gaze reciprocating with equal... intensity?

Wow... I slept with Dad's best friend? Why the hell can’t I remember what we did last night?

“Y/n, about the yatch trip. Why not turn it into a little get-together?” Seonghwa asked, to which you slightly nodded. “Hongjoong, you should join us too. My princess is 23 now, and you're back after so long. We should catch up with all the boys, and you need to meet their kids as well.” he announced excitedly.

Damn. This is going to be the end of me. The thought crossed both your and Hongjoong’s minds.

—

The yacht was big enough to fit everyone who showed up, which was a relief. There were plenty of activities and services, so the trip seemed like it would be fun. Luckily, even with the crowd, you managed to get a room for yourself. After the chaos of your birthday night, some alone time was exactly what you needed. Now, settled in one of the small but cozy rooms at the back of the yacht, you finally had the privacy you wanted.

The only problem? It was right next to Hongjoong’s.

Night fell, and everyone retired to their rooms. Hongjoong stood on the deck, the memories of that night still fresh in his mind as he glanced at the photo you had taken on his phone during the heat of the moment. When he met Seonghwa the next day, he had no clue you were his daughter, he didn’t even know Seonghwa had a daughter, let alone a beautiful twenty-three-year-old one.

But what will they do about this? Will they try to harm you for being associated with him? Are they here, watching him and you?

~ your birthday night ~

The music was in sync with your heartbeat as your eyes locked with Hongjoong, his devilish smirk igniting desire and not helping with the wetness building down south. Leaning in close, your breath hot against his ear, you whispered, "Let's go somewhere private."

Making your way through the sweaty mush of drunk people on the dance floor, you led him to a secluded room. The door clicked shut as you turned to him, slowly unbuttoning your top, letting the fabric fall from your shoulders. This was your kind of fun.

Hongjoong’s gaze darkened as you grabbed his drink, took a sip, and spilled it down your chest. The liquid covered your skin, trailing down your boobs, giving them a glistening look that made Hongjoong’s mouth water.

"Clean me up, sir." you teased, watching his eyes burn with desire. That “sir” in your angelic sweet voice had him down bad for you.

Without hesitation, he pulled you by the waist, your body crashing into his, sending sparks through you. He lowered his head, his tongue flicking over the trail of alcohol on your skin, his large hands busy squeezing your ass. You gasped softly, your hands tangling in his hair as he licked and sucked your nipples, and Hongjoong sucked hard, releasing the nipple with a pop sound.

"Tastes so sweet, like a cherry, baby." he said, continuing his licks.

The sensation, his words sent sparks through your body, as he was busy cleaning the remnants of liquor off. His mouth was hot, his tongue teasing, tasting you in a way that left you craving more, needing more. You gasped, tugging at his hair, the heat between you rising.

Adding to the moment, you reached for your phone, accidentally grabbing his and snapping a picture, interrupting the moment. "Oops, wrong phone," you smiled at him innocently. "Will you keep it for me, sir?" Your innocent request earned an amused smirk from him.

"Only if you promise to see me again." Hongjoong teased, smirking, the tension between you far from over and only left you both craving for more.

Was he regretting that night? No.

He definitely felt a connection, an intense one, the first time he laid eyes on you in Havana. Your playful, banter-ish conversation was a gentle push toward those unannounced feelings his heart was welcoming, and the night in that private room definitely sealed the deal.

He was more curious about what was going on in your mind.

But knowing your feelings might open a can of worms that he wasn’t ready for.

And if they found out about your associations with him... What would they do to you?

As he walked back to his tiny room, almost as if his prayers were answered, soft moans caught his ears, halting him in his tracks.

"Joong... aa... I need you," you moaned, your fingers rubbing against your dripping cunt, trying to relieve some of the ache, your back to the door. The whole evening had been tense with Hongjoong in your vicinity, and it took everything in you not to jump his bones. But...

Why has he been distant? Is he avoiding me? Does he not want this? What’s his deal?

Pushing those questions aside, you focused on the pleasure, recalling the night of your birthday. The way his tongue moved on your chest, the way he sucked your tits—it all felt so vivid. Suddenly, everything felt hotter, thick drops of sweat coating your forehead despite the air conditioning set to its coldest.

Hongjoong, watching you pleasuring yourself through the glass door of the cabin, curtains slightly pushed aside, was torn with dilemma, as he’d definitely felt someone watching him the whole evening.

Should I go in? She definitely wants this... She does feel something, right? But what if they find out?

What if they come to this town looking for me? Will Y/N’s life be in danger? Will they come after her too?

"Joong, please... touch me, sir..." you whimpered, your fingers rubbing harder against your cunt, waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your left hand squeezed your tits, the same ones Hongjoong had once covered with sweet kisses, unaware that you were being watched.

Hongjoong’s dick hardened at the mouthwatering sight, forming a tent in his pants. Shit, he needed release, and he needed it now. His hands automatically went to his clothed member, touching and rubbing, trying to soothe himself.

Checking to see if the hallway was clear, he pulled his throbbing cock out, hoping to relieve that ache, even just a tiny bit, as your moans provided music to his ears. His mind took him down the rabbit hole where his dirty fantasies lived, away from the world. Your taste still fresh in his mind, his pace quickened. The idea of bending you over and fucking deep inside, with his girthy dick exploring your insides, was something he desperately needed to happen.

He covered his mouth as dangerous groans threatened to escape his lips while his hand worked on his throbbing cock, rubbing ferociously. His eyes flicked to you—the sight of your lips between your teeth, eyes tightly shut, sweat dripping off your face—pushed him closer to the edge.

Your fingers quickened against your cunt as you rubbed harder and faster, breathless moans leaving your lips, traveling to Hongjoong outside the door, pushing him over the edge as he came hard in his hand, slick dripping down his legs. Your fast movements also pushed you off the edge as you came undone on the fluffy sheets.

Hongjoong and you both breathed deeply, trying to recover from the intense high, and just when the timing couldn’t have been worse, he heard footsteps approaching, heading toward your rooms at the back of the ship.

To save both you and himself from getting caught, he entered your room, causing you to freeze at his sudden entrance, all your actions coming to a painful stop. Your face turned cherry red. Embarrassed.

Was he watching me this whole time? Fuck! Fuck! I even called his name out loud. He definitely heard that... Fuck my life! Your mind was a mess, embarrassment taking the best of you as the older male stood in front of you, wet stains in his pants showing that he had cum.

"Y/N, stop... someone’s coming," Hongjoong said, warning you about someone approaching the back of the ship. "Pretend you’re sleeping," he added as he gently laid you on the bed, tucking you under the covers. He quickly hid behind the door, the room dark enough that no one outside would see him there.

The footsteps came to a halt in front of your door, lingered for a few moments, then walked away.

Who could be up at this time of night? Hongjoong thought to himself. Ah, probably one of the kids. He decided to check to make sure the path was clear, and to his surprise, no one was there. Hmm... was my mind playing games with me?

“All clear,” he announced as he turned towards you, hand still holding the door knob, ready to leave. He took one final glance at your sleeping figure, about to step out.

“Are you gonna leave me already, sir?” your voice dripped with innocence as you sat up on the bed, propped on your knees, looking almost like an angel fallen from heaven. A request Hongjoong so desperately wanted to fulfill but couldn’t, as his eyes flicked to the window behind you, a red cross plastered on it.

Shit! Are they here already? Is this them telling me they’re watching me?

I need to get out of here, and fast. And I need to make sure they don’t harm her, he thought to himself.

“Sorry, angel,” he said, gripping your cheeks and pecking your lips. “I can’t put your life in danger.” He lingered there for a second before backing off and leaving the room, disappearing into the darkness.

What did he mean by he can’t put my life in danger? Is someone after him? Why the fuck did he have to kiss me... if he has no intention of being with me?

What is going on, Joong? What are you hiding?

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

DISCLAIMER: This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

#kpop #kpop smut #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #ateez smut #ateez fluff #ateez imagines #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez hongjoong #kim hongjoong #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong smut #]hongjoong fluff #hongjoong fic #atz #atz smut #kinktober 2024 #shixcherie

59 notes · View notes

allwaswell16 · 3 months ago

Text

A One Direction fic rec of fics that skip over portions of time and that take place over the course of years as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis / Harry -

📆 Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight

(M, 131k, ex-fwb) When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

📆 Strawberries & Cigarettes by dimpled_halo / @comebackassholes

(E, 76k, omegaverse) Two stories, eleven years, and the two boys that never stopped loving each other.

📆 7 Up by @cherrystreet

(E, 51k, friends to lovers) we follow the lives of Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson in an interview setting every seven years. They fall apart and come together, their lives and emotions recorded

📆 when we were younger by luinlote

(E, 53k, canon) In where you get to see small glimpses of Harry and Louis' life together through the years, first through the eyes of others and eventually their own, as their life keeps spinning madly around them.

📆 Dear Devoted Delicate by therogueskimo / @bravetemptation

(M, 47k, canon) A collection of moments in time that show just how worth it love is when it’s real.

📆 the love it takes, it's worth it all this time by hemakeshimstrongx / @hemakeshimstrong

(T, 46k, canon) a timestamp fic between 2010 and 2022, told using snippets of harry's house. the album imagined from bottom to top, the moments little flashbacks in film reels. it's about love, and it's about keeping that love alive despite surmounting challenges.

📆 yeah, he's a looker (but i really think it's guts that matter most) by devilinmybrain / @thedevilinmybrain

(E, 40k, Oli pov) Five times Oli was asked to do something that was outside of his job description, and the one time he didn't have to be asked.

📆 Love is the Right Place by Chelsea Frew / @chelsea-frew

(T, 33k, friends to lovers) Over the years, friendship turns to more. Just as their romance blossoms, however, Louis gets an offer which promises fame and fortune far from home.

📆 When You Know, You Know by @mission2feelike

(M, 27k, omegaverse) Louis and Harry have been friends for years, their friendship maturing easily from pups to teenagers to adults.

📆 Anonymous Said by @alivingfire

(T, 21k, bookshop) two boys, two blogs, two years of anonymous messages, and a bookshop where it all comes together.

📆 Love in slow motion by sloganeer

(E, 17k, Posh & Becks au) A series of glimpses into the life of Harry Styles, pop star turned fashion designer; his husband, Louis Tomlinson, football legend; and their four adorable children.

📆 I Wanna Feel (Your Love) by @infinitelymint

(E, 15k, canon) Five moments in Louis and Harry’s life based on five of the biggest emotions: fear, sadness, love, anger and joy.

📆 Go Out for Adventure, Come Home for Love by myownspark / @myownsparknow

(M, 9k, 5 times) Four years of iconic moments that inspire tattoos and promises.

📆 Here We Come A-Wassailing by @lululawrence

(NR, 8k, Christmas) The year Louis was in the 8th grade, his mom decided to gather the families of their closest friends to go caroling.

📆 Flowers of Tomorrow, Seeds of Today by @haztobegood

(G, 7k, fae/fairies) Louis is a changeling and Harry is a human and their fates are more connected than they know.

📆 Like A Neon Sign by @reminiscingintherain

(T, 7k, canon) Harry had always been perfect to Louis, through every age, through every stage, and in all the important ways, he was proud to have been able to witness the growth that Harry had experienced first-hand.

📆 Though the Seasons Change So Quickly (Keep Them Buried In My Heart) by LiveLaughLoveLarry / @loveislarryislove

(G, 6k, canon) A series of moments of Harry and Louis' relationship through the years, from the very beginning to the present, through the perspective of those around them. It's beautiful and it's brutal, it's awe-inspiring and it's awful - it is what it is.

📆 Dear Louis by callmenine

(E, 5k, famous/not famous) The one where Harry is a popstar having an existential crises and writes a song for his high school ex-boyfriend Louis after more than ten years of no contact.

- Rare Pairs -

📆 in darkness i follow you by @leighbot

(E, 6k, Zayn/Louis) four glimpses into Louis and Zayn's relationship through the years. With bonus side!Narry.

📆 like air to me by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright

(M, 5k, Zayn/Louis) Five times Louis’ smoke break brings back memories of Zayn and one time it brings him back to Zayn’s doorstep.

#weekly recs #hlcreators #1dsquad #1dficvillage #hljournal #hltracks #ficrec

78 notes · View notes

savemefromanepicoftimewasted · 9 months ago

Text

The Gang's All Here

Biker!John Price X Wife!Reader

It was adorable, you were the mom of the group when it came to everything, especially when they were on leave. You’d invite everyone over and feed them until they were all too full.

a/n:this fic was inspired by this GORGEOUS artwork by @yakowo and I could not get the idea out of my head, also for anyone who voted in favor for the tattoos? you're welcome (P.S. I'm so sorry for making you guys wait MONTHS for this!)

(These are the tattoos I picture John having!)

John wasn’t the type of person that you’d expect to come onto base riding a motorcycle, a Harley Davidson no less. So, when Soap and Gaz were outside cracking jokes together their jaws dropped as John parked the roaring beast. When the hell had he managed to find the time to ride? It felt like they’d been gone for the last year nonstop. Gaz had heard all about how much you missed John. It was adorable, you were the mom of the group when it came to everything, especially when they were on leave. You’d invite everyone over and feed them until they were all too full.

“Laswell approved the time off, we’re gonna get to spend Halloween with the missus this year.” Gaz was probably more excited than anyone.

It may have been due to the fact you were all planning on matching, Gaz had picked Simon’s name from the hat, while you and Johnny were going to be matching. John downright refused, saying he couldn’t trust the boys to pick his costume. He’d made you swear to secrecy, no one was allowed to know his costume until Halloween. You weren’t complaining though, not after he’d promised to let you help ‘grease him up’.

“Better not get too rowdy this year, lord knows Johnny nearly got arrested last time.” Of course that had been because someone had tried to roughly grab you when John was off getting you drinks.

The boys had always been quite protective of you, doing whatever they could to make sure you were safe and keep all the creeps away. You’d been married to their captain the entire time they’d all known one another, so you were the co-captain in their eyes. Johnny was definitely the most protective, he saw you as a little sister(even though you were older than him). Simon would simply glare at anyone who looked at you wrong, scaring them off before they could utter a single word. Gaz would throw down with anyone who dared utter a single bad thing about you, how dare you disrespect his co-captain!

“He said he’d be on his best behavior, something about not wanting to anger the missus this time.” You’d turned into a scolding mother when Johnny began to act out, it was hilarious to watch.

John had thrown you over his shoulder even while you were kicking and screaming to be put down so you could continue your scolding. Johnny learned that night not to piss you off lest he deal with your wrath for the rest of the night. It was a comical thing, knowing you could insight fear into a man who sees death for a living.

“Better not, she told me they’re doing matching costumes and I can’t risk her needin’ to get a costume last minute.” That wasn’t to say you wouldn’t be able to find something from your closet, but you’d planned this months prior.

“Simon and I are too, you’re gonna be the odd man out captain.” Gaz smirked over at the other man, noticing the way his brow raised slightly.

“You and Ghost are wearing matching costumes? How’d you convince him?” Simon wasn’t afraid to let loose and enjoy himself, but wearing a costume to match with Kyle? That was shocking.

“Said he wanted to wear something to help get some attention, can’t say much else.” Gaz was going to keep his lips sealed until halloween had arrived, it was going to be the surprise of the century.

John knew better than to try and pry, this was out of his hands and as long as you were happy, he was happy. His mind began to wander for a few seconds, what would the holidays be like when you had your own little tots running around. You’d probably dress them up into cute halloween costumes and take them trick or treating. It didn’t sound like such a horrible thing at the moment, seeing you take the little ones up to the doors to get candy you’d sneak for yourself. No, no thinking about things like that when you’re at work and have important things to do, like a mountain of paperwork.

“Keep an eye on things and make sure the new recruits aren’t acting like idiots, please.” John waited for Gaz to acknowledge his words before heading down to his office.

The picture from your wedding day was the only one he’d been willing to take to base with him, not wanting to risk the wrong person knowing about you. His wedding ring sat alongside his dog tags, resting against his chest every day. It was a reminder that no matter how stressful things could be, he would always go home to you at the end of the day. They weren’t due for another assignment until the end of November, mainly because Laswell needed more intel first. Maybe that was the only reason they were allowed the few weeks of leave that was granted. Oh well.

It was nearing seven at night by the time John realized he hadn’t so much as left his desk to get a drink or even a bite to eat. Shit, you were going to absolutely ream his ass when he got home and you found out. This wasn’t the first time, and absolutely wasn’t going to be the last that he’d completely forgotten about himself. Simon had given him hell from time to time, telling him he needed to eat before you showed up at the base yourself. It had only happened once, though that was more due to the fact he needed the paperwork he’d forgotten and not because he hadn’t left his desk for..ten hours.

Standing up and stretching his tired limbs he groaned at the exertion and cracking from his idle bones. Shit, he had definitely been sitting for too long if standing for a few seconds sent shivers down his spine almost instantly. Time to get something to eat and head home for the next few weeks. He’d barely made it out of his office before Johnny was running over with what could only be described as childlike glee.

“Captain! Was hopin’ I could catch you.” The plus side of working alongside Johnny was that he could get shit done when necessary, the downside is when he was excited the man could talk forever.

“Just grabbing a quick bite and heading out, have you got your leave papers yet?” John didn’t have much time to talk, not if he wanted to make it home before you were in bed already.

“Just this mornin’, I wanted to ask about the bike.” Johnny was nervous, given that the last time he’d seen one was nothing more than a quick glance on their last mission.

“What about it?” John turned into the cafeteria, grabbing a plastic wrapped sandwich that was most likely made that morning.

Johnny wrung his hands together nervously, if questioned he would vehemently deny that his palms had become sweaty when asking his higher-up about something as simple as a motorcycle. Maybe he could just ask you about it instead, surely John had told you some things here and there and you’d managed to pick up any information.

“I uhh, I was wondering where you got it, she’s a beaut.” There, he’d ripped off the bandaid and didn’t need to make this any harder than it needed to be.

“Found her through a seller, she was in pretty rough shape so I’ve been fixin’ her up on leaves.” The bike was John’s pride and joy, second of course to you, but he loved his harley in a different way.

“Oh! Okay, that’s cool.” Johnny nodded, keeping a slight distance between himself and his captain.

“Any reason you’re asking?” John grabbed a bottle of water before turning to sit down at one of the open tables.

Johnny felt his nerves skyrocket, how does one admit they’d always wanted to ride but were too afraid of nearly getting themselves killed? His mother had given him hell for it, saying he’d lose his life by being reckless. It had deterred the idea for years, but seeing so many bikes made him want to do it anyway.

“No reason, see you later cap.” Johnny nodded once before heading out of the room.

John wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t confused, it wasn’t often that people even saw him on the rumbling biped vehicle, but given the opportunity he always took it. Nothing more invigorating than feeling the wind whip around you, the sound of the bike echoing behind. You would beg John to take you for a ride constantly, especially on date night.

The recruits were quiet as they sat amongst themselves, discussing what their next drills would possibly be. It suddenly hit John how old he was, he’d been so used to making sure that everyone else was taken care of that he hadn’t taken the time to really look at life. You’d both discussed having children when the both of you were truly ready. If it came down that neither of you would truly be ready for a child, then neither of you would become parents. He’d just be the fun uncle that could send the kiddos home hyped up on sugar.

After he’d finished his sandwich and water it was time to head out. Any paperwork was sent off for review, and if it wasn’t up to Laswell’s standards she could wait until he was back. Getting home and relaxing for the rest of the night was high on his priority list at the moment. Maybe the two of you could order take out instead of cooking, maybe even a glass of wine to go along with it. You’d be dealing with everyone in a few days anyway, god where had the year gone that it was already Halloween again.

The sun was nearly gone by the time John had made it out of his office, grabbing the keys to his bike and heading towards the garage. Ghost’ voice was booming, words sharp as a whip towards whomever he was angry with. John sighed deeply before turning towards the shooting range, if it was a new recruit this could get ugly fast. And much to his annoyance it was not one, but four new recruits, each of them looked terrified as Simon nearly towered over them.

“Do you think this is a joke? Something to laugh about?!” Ghost was enraged, hands clenched into fists by his side.

“No sir.” They spoke in unison, each with their heads down, gazes locked on the floor.

“The next time you come in here thinkin’ you’re gonna play with the weapons, I will have you removed, permanently.” Ghost took gun safety quite seriously, one wrong move could end the lives of multiple people.

“Yes sir.” They all nodded, waiting for further instructions.

“Get out of my sight.” Ghost crossed his arms over his chest, waiting until they all scrambled away before turning to face John.

There were no words shared between the two men, neither of them needed to say anything to get their points across anyway. However, John wanted to make sure that Simon would be alright before leaving for the night.

“Still coming over for Halloween?” John was still curious on what Gaz had picked for the costumes, couldn’t be too bad.

“I promised your missus I would anyway.” No one on the task force could tell you no, it was adorable.

“I’ll see you then, make sure the recruits stay out of trouble.” John nodded at him, heading down to the garage so he could get home to you.

The night air was cold, bike rumbling beneath him as he wound his way along the roads that lead to your shared home. He’d sent a quick text to you before he left, telling you to order dinner so the two of you could relax together. Good food, a glass of wine, and the most amazing wife that he could ever ask for sounded like a perfect night to him. Now if he could ignore the clawing thoughts that came with work that would be even better. Laswell knew better than to call him unless it was an absolute emergency that he needed to attend to.

The light was on outside as he pulled into the driveway, parking the bike and waiting until it was settled to step off. The sound of music echoed through the partially opened window, the sound of your voice following along with the lyrics. John snickered to himself, it was definitely a song from your younger years, it was definitely a 90’s boyband. If you were letting loose, what would he walk into? Shaking off his shoulders he headed into the house, locking the door behind him before slipping off his boots.

“Baby!” You ran over, throwing your arms around his neck in a tight embrace.

“Hello to you too, having a party without me?” John’s arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush to his body.

“Never, can’t have a party without the man of the hour.” You pressed a light kiss to his lips, giggling as he tried to pull you back for more.

The two of you laughed happily, dancing together until the doorbell rang loudly, letting you know your dinner had arrived. You had mentioned a movie you’d wanted to see earlier that week, talking about how scary it was from your friends. John could handle some little movie no problem at all, everything about it was fake anyway.

“Alright, got our food, drinks, time to turn on the movie.” You wiggled into your seat, pressing play on the remote before digging in to your food.

The movie, for lack of a better word, was absolutely terrible. It was sort of a tradition in your home that during October you would watch corny horror movies whenever John was home. It was something you’d been adamant on, refusing to let the tradition die out. Of course you’d watch the classic horror movies to help break up the monotony of the bad ones. John had insisted you watch The Thing recently, until you remembered the kennel scene. Watching poor animals, even fake ones, get hurt always makes you upset.

“What do we watch next? We’ve got a few days before the party, and you don’t need to go back until after.” You popped a few pieces of popcorn into your mouth, chewing slowly so you didn’t get any kernels stuck between your teeth.

John pondered for a brief moment, he’d loved watching the classics, but maybe something new could be better? No, something from the 90’s maybe.

“What about Candyman?” It was one of your favorites, having grown up as a horror fan you clung onto the infamous movie.

“A man after my own heart.” You giggled and grabbed your remote to turn the movie on.

The only light in your living room, besides the TV of course, were the string lights you’d hung up in the middle of September. You’d claimed it would help give ambience to the movie watching experience, and John definitely had to admit that it had. It gave off an eerie vibe that he couldn’t quite place, but given that it was Halloween he wasn’t going to complain.

You could practically recite the movie, the way Tony Todd portrayed the character of Candyman so well never ceased to amaze you. You’d wanted to have a career in film making, but given that the industry was one of the hardest to get into, your dreams were crushed.

You wouldn’t have met John had you followed your dreams.

You hummed softly, it was true, had you followed your heart you would have never met your husband. Sure you probably would’ve met someone in Hollywood, but it wouldn’t have been the same.

“Wait, what are you wearing for Halloween?” You glanced over at your husband.

“I’ve got a pair of overalls I’m gonna grease up. Go dressed as a mechanic.” John was nothing short of efficient. He’d found them one day after going through his clothes and tossing out anything that was either too old, or had holes to be thrown away.

“Hmm, that works.” You turned and put your attention back onto the movie on your screen.

You and Johnny would be matching, while Simon and Kyle would technically be matching. It had started as a joke but after discussing it, you had all agreed and the plans were set in stone. The costumes arrived a few weeks after you’d ordered them, the boys all paying you back right away. John of course had no idea what you were wearing, and you weren’t going to tell him until the very night of. It was going to be quite the surprise, you couldn’t wait for him to see.

Halloween

You were pulling on your undergarments, not wanting to spoil any surprises your husband might find later before quickly pulling on your dress. You’d been tempted to order a wig to truly match but you didn’t want to risk it. Instead you fixed up your hair, placing the headband before pulling on a pair of pantyhose. After a quick glance in the mirror you were happy with your look, pulling on the shoes and heading down to the living room. The boys had all crammed into your home, each of them taking their respective costumes to go and change. John had run to the store to get one final bag of candy, promising he’d be back in time to head to the party.

Kyle walked out in his amazing glory, the fluffy coat showing off his amazing physique.

“I have to admit, you make an amazing Ken.” You snickered and twirled your finger, telling him to give you a full view.

The costume was perfect, down to the headband and sunglasses he’d managed to find last minute. It was the only thing missing out of his entire get up.

“What can I say? I was born to be a total stud.” He smirked before bursting into laughter, both of you righting yourselves as Johnny walked out.

“I forgot how much I hated wearing boots sometimes.” Johnny muttered to himself.

The two of you had dressed as Velma and Daphne, Johnny had offered to be Velma since he was already a natural brunette. You weren’t going to argue with the man, the dress gave your husband even easier access.

“If you can tuck the bottom of the sweater under itself, it’ll look better.” You walked over and helped him adjust the dark orange sweater, brushing down the fabric of his skirt.

“Bettah?” Johnny glanced at you, hoping you could head out soon.

“Much.” You smiled and stepped back from him.

Before any of you could say anything else Simon walked out of the guest bathroom, the hot pink outfit causing all of your jaws to drop open. How Kyle had convinced him to dress up as cowboy Barbie you weren’t entirely sure, but god did he look fantastic.

“I have to admit, you look fucking hot right now.” Your eyes were wide, hands reaching up to mess with the green scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Thanks, this is all Kyle’s idea.” Simon tossed his bag down beside the couch.

“I’m not complaining, those pants are doing so much for your ass right now.” Your cheeks heated up before you caught the way Johnny was also eyeing him. At least you weren’t alone.

The sound of the front door opening suddenly caught your attention, your husband made it home with a few minutes to spare. Such a procrastinator that one was, now you’d be rushing out the door to get to the party.

“Sorry! Nearly got into a fight with someone who almost hit me on the way home. I just need to get dressed.” John dropped the candy into the large bowl, turning to face the rest of you.

His eyes landed on Simon first, a slight brow raised before he saw Kyle, followed by Johnny, and then lastly you.

“Don’t tell me. Kyle and Simon are Barbie and Ken, and you two are Daphne and Velma?” John snickered as he slipped off his shoes quickly.

“Good job, now go get dressed so we can leave!” You all but pushed your husband towards your bedroom.

You could discuss the costumes later when you were actually where you needed to be for the night, right now was not the time. The plus side is that you were within walking distance of the party, the downside was that you were definitely going to be late.

“Jeez, your arms look even bigger.” Kyle blurted out as Simon flexed his arms. Johnny was practically drooling at the sight.

“Alright, you guys head outside and I’ll see what’s taking John so long.” You waited until they’d all left, mainly to make sure poor Johnny didn’t pass out.

Shaking your head you made your way down to your bedroom, pushing the door open slowly so you didn’t startle him.

“Hey hun, are you…” You trailed off as you saw your husband, the white tank top he’d dirtied and greased up showed off the sleeves of tattoos as well as his back piece beautifully.

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, let’s go hun.” John spritzed a couple sprays of cologne before heading over to you.

You watched the way his muscles ripped beneath the fabric, eyes glancing down to his legs beneath the coveralls. The arms over his coveralls were wrapped around his waist, giving him the look of being an actual mechanic. Jesus you weren’t going to be able to keep your hands off of him at this rate.

“I’ll have to remember to have someone take a photo of us when we get there.” You grabbed your wristlet and headed out of the house with John.

The other three, that were locked in a heated discussion, all fell silent as they saw their captain in a tank top.

“Holy shit, you’re covered in tattoos?!” Kyle was floored, he’d recently found out his captain rode motorcycles, but seeing this? This was all new.

“Oh, yeah, I’ve had these for years.” John merely shrugged, wrapping an arm around your waist as you all made the short walk to Kate’s house.

The music was loud enough that you could hear it outside, but it was clear that everyone was still able to have conversations. Kyle, Simon, and Johnny all took off the moment you got inside with John, causing you to roll your eyes. You just wanted one photo to at least remember the night, the costumes looked so good too!

“I’ll make sure they take a photo before we head home tonight, promise.” John pressed a kiss to your hair, leading you further into the party.

“Thank you.” You smiled as you leaned against him, avoiding any of the grease that could ruin your dress.

The party was lively, everyone complimenting your costume as well as John’s even asking a few questions about his tattoos. John was proud of the work he’d had done, especially the back piece he’d sat through over five sessions for. You loved when John got the recognition he deserved. The man was downright gorgeous, and you were reveling in the fact that he’d chosen you out of everyone.

The hours flew by, the drinks flowing through your system before John cut you off. He wasn’t going to risk getting you drunk like last time. You’d taken photos with all of your friends, giggling at the couples costume that Farah and Alex had done. He’d dressed up as a dinosaur while she was dressed like a handler. Everyone took photos with John, claiming they wanted to show off the tattoos he had and see if they could get something half as good. You knew better, it was only because of how gorgeous your husband was. You weren’t blind, even in regular clothes John was the most attractive man you’d ever met.

“Hey, why don’t I take you home? It’s getting late anyway.” John could see the way your eyes were drooping closed, exhaustion seeping into your bones.

“We gotta round up the boys too.” You’d offered up the spare bedrooms so they didn’t have to worry about driving home so late at night.

“Already did, sweetheart, so let’s go.” John scooped you up into his arms, saying goodbyes to everyone before making your way out of the house.

Your eyes slowly slipped closed as you rested against his chest, your feet sore from standing in the kitten heels for the last five hours. John didn’t so much as complain as he carried you to your shared home, opening the door to let everyone inside. Johnny didn’t hesitate to rip off his boots, tossing them aside before ripping off the sweater. John raised a brow at the younger man, watching as he hurriedly picked up his discarded items.

“Sorry, sir.” Johnny wasn’t going to let them lie around, would never do so in someone else’s home, but getting to strip down was his only thought.

“Just clean up, that's all I ask.” John turned and headed up to your bedroom, laying you on the plush mattress before turning to change into his own pajamas.

Your soft snores filled the air, chest rising and falling slowly as you slept peacefully on your bed. John chuckled and finished getting changed, turning to help you out of your own clothes. His eyes widened as he realized you had gotten new lingerie, jaw dropping open. He’d talk to you about it tomorrow, right now you were exhausted and needed some sleep.

After grabbing one of his more oversized shirts he helped ease you into the fabric, pulling off your headband and setting everything onto the dresser. You hadn’t so much as flinched the entire time, assuring John that you were completely asleep. He headed down to the living room, making sure the other three were settled before turning off the lights. It was fun getting to see everyone dressed up, simply enjoying themselves with good company.

“Thank you, for being the best thing I could ever ask for.” John crawled into bed beside you, pulling you flush to his chest.

You murmured softly in your sleep, wrapping your arms around his waist. There were definitely some things that the two of you needed to talk about.

Those could wait, for now he would simply hold you and enjoy himself.

tagging: @gaylemonshark @thesinsoflust @dante-mightdie @mh073099

177 notes · View notes

sweetbillwriting · 4 months ago

Text

In The Dead of Night

ONE

Description: Delilah is on sick leave from her job and doesn't have much to do in the days. Her life has always been safe and a bit boring but everything changes when she falls in love with her best friend's dead brother.

Characters: AU Eric, played by Bill Skarsgård, from The Crow (2024)

Setting: This story is set in A WHOLE OTHER WORLD than the movie. Shelley isn't a part of this story. Eric will be different from the movie, especially because I haven't seen the movie.

Warnings: 18+. I've stopped writing out specific warnings. All of my stories are 18+, have heavy themes and are NSFW.

Notes: This is really just inspired by Bill Skarsgård's looks and the atmosphere of The Crow, nothing else.

You can find the prologue here

Green eyes.

Green, big eyes looked at me intensely but more than that I couldn't see. It was like everything around was eaten up by complete darkness but the eyes were its own source of light. It didn't look like they floated around like two planets tossed out in space, no, it was obvious they were attached to a face, but a face I couldn't see. I tried to reach my hands out to touch the face, the shoulders, touch something belonging to the person with the intense green eyes but I didn't succeed. It was me who was the one who was bodiless, or at least I didn't have any contact with my body. Was I paralyzed? How could I know?

Maybe I was no substance anymore, maybe I was just the air in front of the person with the green eyes.

Eric. Even if I had just seen his eyes one time in a photo I knew it was his eyes in front of me. The big, sad eyes. In that moment he looked at me with searching eyes, like he wondered who I was or how I was feeling. Nothing with his eyes were hostile. I felt seen. Seen for real, in that way you probably just get to be seen a few times in your life.

×××

I stretched out in bed after waking up slowly and pleased, like you do when you've got the sleep hours you need and didn't have anything that rushed you to leave your bed's warm sheets. I didn't even have Odin to think about because he was living with his dad that week so I could stretch a bit more.

I left my bed when I felt hunger growing deep in my belly. I rose up from bed with a smile and on my way to the bathroom I started to hum an old kids song I hadn't thought about for years, it wasn't until I saw myself in the bathroom mirror I realized how abnormal my behavior was. I wasn't a cheery person and I was definitely not the person singing for myself.

My cheeks glowed of redness and my eyes were shiny. It looked like I've been out running in cold, crisp weather. I looked healthy. I wouldn't say I had looked unhealthy before, just a bit tired and paler than others because I rather stayed inside in front of a series than walk out in the warm weather, but now I looked like such a person that did pilates in the morning. I smiled for myself but it wasn't until later when my tongue met the bitter taste of coffee I understood why.

Green eyes.

I remembered my dream I had and felt his eyes crawl into my chest and built a nest in one of the ventricles. My blood turned warm and shot out in my body and made my cheeks heat and even more flushed. It was embarrassing. It was really painful, sadly, embarrassing.

I had seen one picture of him and now I dreamt about his eyes like they were two pools made of love and happiness.

It was five days ago I was at Lotti's and saw the big photo of him together with my best friend Robin, his brother. Robin was always well groomed, clean and bright in a Instagram friendly way, his brother looked like the complete opposite. Tall, dark and scribbled with tattoos that looked washed out on his pale skin but he was beautiful. Robin was attractive but he didn't have that thing Eric had. As I said, I saw one picture of him but it was obvious his beauty was mysterious and dark, like a night sky in December. Robin was more like a morning sky in May.

I had thought about Eric a lot since that day. I had stood next to Lotti and looked at the portrait in silence and didn't dare to ask anything. It felt like a religious moment when we stood there, like we had a wake for him and I didn't want to disturb her in her grieve by asking about his age or occupation. I was also a bit afraid I would say something that would confuse her. I had no idea how her brain worked after her stroke. She maybe would get violent if I asked about his death.

I left when a nurse came and said Robin was waiting for me but I took a last look at Eric's sad eyes and then turned my eyes at Lotti with a small smile:

“Is it okay if I come to get the dress another day? I really, really like it but I have some things to do now so it would be better if I could pick it up next week?”

Lotti nodded a little and then took my hand in hers:

“Of course, Delilah. Maybe we can take a cup of tea then and I can tell you a bit about Eric? It would be so nice to talk about my boy.”

It wasn't my plan that she would invite me to talk about Eric. I wanted to know more but my plan were just to be able to visit her again and ask some simple question. I didn't need to know much, just a few things I just wanted to know out of pure curiosity, he was dead after all so there wasn't much to say about him today.

It felt strange Robin hadn't told me about him but I also knew how sensitive he was. If you got him to cry it took ages for him to stop. He had opened the faucet and they wouldn't close until he had cried out everything he had inside of him. He probably hadn't told me because of the wounds it had created in him and how talking about it would feel like putting needles in an open wound.

That was why I didn't tell him that I went to his mom two days later. He didn't need to know we would talk about his brother's death.

×××

I rarely dressed up. It didn't really feel like there was a point doing so when I didn't have so much to do and the last two weeks it had been so hot I would have been most comfortable just walking around in a big shirt and panties. To meet Lotti again felt like a moment to pull on a dress tho and I chose one with care. I wanted to show her that her dress would get a good new home but also that I was a good, reliable friend to Robin and someone also she could trust. I thought about bringing something with me that we could have to the tea but the time disappeared, I couldn't say where but it probably had something to do with the green eyes staring at me from the inside of my chest.

I hoped it would be okay the time I had picked to go to her. It was a Wednesday, 10 am. It felt like a good time to come, she would probably have lunch by 12. I went into the entrance with the colorful birds also that day but had time to see more than that this time. It was a desk to the left when I got in, a simple wooden desk that didn't seem to be used so much because it looked empty. Behind it was a door to a smaller room. I could see a glimpse of a dask with a laptop.

From the corridor from my left came a younger nurse in her blue scrubs and smiled at me questioning.

“Hi, I'm here to see Lotti… Ehm, I'm a friend to her son?”

The nurse stopped some steps from me and nodded a little.

“I think you met Fiona yesterday… I will find her to see if she can let you in, we just want to know who's visiting,” she said carefully and looked out one of the windows at the yard, probably looking after Fiona.

“Oh, sure, of course,” I answered and played with the voluminous skirt of my white polka dotted dress.

The young nurse left and a few minutes later Fiona came back. She wore a smile then she looked at my ID and wrote me on a visitor list.

“The morning have been a little rocky so you know… She didn't recognize the nurse who came into her this morning.”

I nodded a little and looked around nervously but still followed the nurse to Lotti's room. I was more or less preparing myself for her to have forgotten me.

“There is no real pattern in her memory, it can even feel like she remember new people better than us others,” said Fiona before knocking on Fiona's door. I didn't have time to answer before Lotti's round face peaked out from the door. She smiled brightly and gave my dress a big eyed look.

“That's an amazing dress, Delilah!”

The nurse gave me a pointed smile then she left me to Lotti. I smiled surprised at her and followed her into her apartment.

“Thank you, you can call me Della, that's what everyone calls me.”

×××

“Della, Della, my Della…” sang Lotti sweetly while she looked through a big bag with her old clothes. I stood in her bathroom with the door a jar trying a skirt with big roses. I smiled a little for myself. I had a good relationship with my mom and would never complain on her but Lotti had a much more typical motherly way and made me feel like a child again.

“I think the coffee is done now,” she said and I heard her light feet walk to the kitchen. I let my own dress and the clothes I've tried from Lotti hang in the bathroom and went to her little kitchen. She was on her way to pouring coffee in two green, ceramic mugs and I sat down by the table, still with her rose skirt on and a white blouse. I felt blessed being able to look through Lotti’s colorful 80’s clothes but I felt even more blessed that I would hear the story about her son. Her son, who had passed away at a young age. Eric. To my surprise and worry, Lotti left the kitchen after putting down the mugs on the table but came back with two photo albums in her arms. I felt my heart crawl up my chest to my throat and I took a sip of my coffee to try to cure the burn that had spread throughout my air ways. I gave the picture by the bed a fast look. I would know his story now and silently in my head I asked for his forgiveness. If he was alive it would be his story to tell, now his mother chose to share it with me, just like that.

“Are you Robin's girlfriend?” Lotti suddenly asked while putting down the albums on the table. “I can get his albums too if you want to see? This is just Eric's but there is pictures of Robin in them too of course.”

“No, I'm not Robin’s girlfriend… We aren't really ‘each other's type’,” I said, without going into the subject too much. Lotti nodded a little and looked at me with an examining look. Maybe she felt I should be interested by Robin's albums anyway but I weren't if I was honest. I wouldn't have been interested in anyone's childhood pictures in normal case but Eric… I looked at his photo again. It was hard to understand and even harder to explain.

“They're so different from each other your son's… It's sweet,” I said with a little smiling, watching Lotti drag her fingers over the album, she continued to do that for a moment and I started to wonder if I already said something hurting.

“Eric… Eric came to us when he was two years old. We had some problems getting more children and we wanted to do something good and opened our home for a foster child… We never thought we would start to love the boy like he was as much our own as Robin.”

Lotti have me a sad little smile then she opened up the light green album so I could see little Eric in a woman's lap. He looked like any other baby but his eyes were bigger and looked into my soul just like he did on the other picture, just like he did in my dream. The woman were Lotti, in her thirties.

“And you named him after your husband,” I said with a nod, like it was obvious.

“No, no. It was just coincidence they had the same name but it was sweet, he didn't share our last name but he could share his first name with the man he would call ‘dad’.”

Lotti's eyes got shiny but she smiled big. It was sweet, that Eric could be a part of the family, even by name. I felt my own eyes get shiny and Lotti took my hand in hers.

“I've talked with some of the nurses about him and they all got so uncomfortable but it feels like you understand. Eric was so special…” The tears run down her cheeks but she continued to smile. Bot of us looked at the portrait again then down at young Eric. We looked at every picture. Big, sad eyes looked back at us, even if his smile was bright. In his pre teens you started to see him change, his hair became black, a simple silver ring in his ear. The older he got the darker his appearance became and the green hypnotic eyes became framed with blackness.

“Was this just a style for him, or was it something more?” I pointed to a picture of him sitting in the grass, looking away with squinting eyes and a spider web tattoo behind his ear. He was probably just eighteen or something but looked sad like a man meeting years of struggle.

“Eric… We did everything for him. He was liked by everyone he met even if he looked the way he did but…” Lotti sighed and looked down at her hands. She still had on her wedding ring even if she was a widow.

“We really thought we could change his faith… But his inheritance was rooted in his, much deeper than we thought and the depressive tendencies sneaked up on him even before his teens. He probably searched for the darkness because it was a place he fitted in… And then came the drugs… The same problems his biological parents had, that had made us be blessed with his presence…” Both she and I cried now and hugged each other's hand like we've known each other for ages.

Drugs. As soon as she said the word it was also more or less obvious that was his murderer. I had never even met a person taking any serious drugs and I felt mixed feelings about Eric's problems. In some way I couldn't believe her, because the man looking at me from the picture over the bed looked healthy and strong but I could also see that intense sadness in his eyes.

“Was it the drugs that..?” I asked carefully and dragged my thumb over the back of her hand. She just nodded and dried her tears with her other hand.

“An overdose. We don't know if it was on purpose or not.”

Both of us sat quiet, holding each other's hand. I could feel Eric's eyes on me and I think Lotti could too because she looked up at the framed picture with a smile then she browsed the pages of the album to the last pages. Their was newer pictures of Eric. A grown man, heavily tattooed but with the same eyes. It was more or less professional pictures of him, sweet pictures of him dressed in Adidas joggers and a loose tank top in a couch. He looked boyishly handsome even with the tattoos crawling all the way up to his face and down to his fingertips. I couldn't even count the tattoos in his face, so full of them was his skin. I thought to myself that he probably did them for the adrenaline rush, something to give his sad heart a kick but then I saw the picture of him smiling big. He had a deep dimple in his flawless cheek and straight white teeth. He looked happy, even if his eyes had a hint of something dark.

“It was his girlfriend who took the pictures and I'm really glad for that today. They were just taken some months before he died and she sent them to me.”

I looked at the smiling picture again. He was in love. That's why his eyes had changed.

As a hairdresser I couldn't stop myself from furrowing my brows while watching his hair. He had a short mullet, something he didn't have on the picture by Lotti's bed. His hair in these pictures was cut in different layers and angles and I couldn't decide if it was made by an experimental hairdresser or a wild amateur. It didn't look so bad for being a mullet but it still was a mullet.

Lotti giggled a little amused when she browsed to the next page and I understood why. Their was four pictures in the same style as the ones before but with another sort of Eric.

“I thought it was odd she sent these to his mother but never would I put pictures of Eric away.”

My cheeks heated when I watched the pictures of Eric in bed. He laid in just a pair of silky boxer shorts so you could see all his tattoos, both the good ones and the horrible ones. You could also see his incredible body. I never thought he would look like that. Everywhere it was lean muscles and defined lines. His abs were taken from a underwear model, his shoulders from a swimmer. I could feel Lotti's eyes on me and knew what kind of look she gave me. He maybe wasn't alive but he could still make every woman blush. I cleared my throat but continued to look at Eric, his body but also his beautiful face.

“He must have been a heartbreaker…” I joked and put my hands on my glowing cheeks.

“Oh no. No. Not my Eric,” said Lotti. “He was a shy boy. He probably knew he was handsome but he was still shy and didn't talk just to talk. Such a sweet, humble boy.”

I looked at her with a warm smile. It was a sweet thought, especially because his brother wasn't at all like that. Robin liked attention and talked most often loudly over others.

Lotti give me a smile and stood up.

“I'm just going to the bathroom, you can continue to look in the albums,” she said and then walked to the bathroom.

I continue to look through the albums. Cute baby Eric, him as a bit older doing martial arts, his style changes to goth but then changed more to an eclectic style. His green big eyes, the tattoos, the abs. He was magnetic in all shapes and I grieved in silence his death. If Lotti was right he was a great, sweet, shy guy that looked like that. If it wasn't for the drugs he seemed to be so wonderful. I was rarely impressed by men but this one… Why was he dead?

“Excuse me?” Said Lotti behind me and I turned around. “Who are you?” She said suspiciously and pressed the emergency button so staff would come to her room. I heard my heart in my ears. It felt like I had done something wrong even if I hadn't. I had been invited in, she just couldn't remember that.

“I'm Della, Robin's friend?” I tried and stood up. Lotti looked at me up and down. She didn't look scared, probably because I was just an ordinary young woman. It was nothing weird with me, I would even say I looked sweet and kind.

“Robin's girlfriend?” She asked and smiled unsurely.

“No, just friend.”

Just when Lotti smiled and was on her way to answer, Fiona came in.

“Lotti, are you okay?” Asked Fiona and patted her arm calmly.

“Yes… Yes… When did you let the girl in?”

“That was earlier, maybe you need to rest a little?” Asked Fiona and steered her towards the bed. She gave me a resurging smile and said lowly that Lotti needed to sleep a little. That was my sign I should go. I felt awful, even if her memory failed her often and I changed to my own dress. I left her dresses because it felt wrong taking them when she didn't feel well. I gave Lotti and Fiona a finale look and when I saw that they were busy I did the unforgivingly thing. I couldn't take the dresses but I stole three of the pictures of Eric. I took them out from the album and held them against my heart when I sneaked out from the entrance door.

×××

In the dead of night I walked. It was much darker than it usually was in May and at first I couldn't tell where I was. The anxious feeling of being stalked I've felt since my teens crept up on me and I walked faster, more determinedly even if I didn't know where I was going. Odin was attached to my hand with the leash, much longer than it usually was but I didn't feel that uncomfortable feeling in my hand when he pulled, but he did pull. He pulled so hard I could hear his strangled breath but he continued to try to run like he was in a hurry somewhere.

I finally recognized the place I was in. It was in the park lying close to my childhood home but completely dark, otherwise it was lit up with light poles. I looked around at the familiar but also unfamiliar place. It was like experiencing it all again. The jungle gym, the slide, the silly lady bugs to ride and the swings.

A tall dark silhouette sat on one of the swings with its feet dug into the sand. They swayed on the swing back and forth slowly and it gave it even more a spooky feel. I wanted to go back, go to my parents house but Odin had other plans and pulled so hard in the leach I dropped him.

“Odin!” I shouted after him when he ran towards the silhouette. I felt my heart beat in panic, catastrophic thinking about losing him completely took over my head. Odin barked happily and ran up to the silhouette that stood up and bent down on its knees to greet the dog. It was obvious now it was just a tall man, a tall man with broad shoulders and his hood pulled up over his head. Odin greeted him like he was an old friend, in so much joy he didn't seem to know what to do with himself but the man took the leach in his hand and with just a light movement with it he got Odin to lay down in the sand and look up at him while he himself stood up on long legs. I walked carefully towards the man and got a stronger and stronger feeling I knew who it was. He was taller than I had understood and it was intimidating to walk up to him. He pulled down the hood of his dark hoodie and revealed his striking feature and the dark mullet. Suddenly one of the light poles by us was turned on and a warm, but dimmed light spread out over the park. It lit up his face and made me see plump lips and facial tattoos but also his most distinctive facial feature. The big green eyes.

I walked up to him with a beating heart and felt the anxiousness and fear transform to overwhelming happiness to see him. I never thought I would see him but there he now stood in front of me, healthy and handsome. When I had come up to him I didn't know what to do and even Odin seemed to react to my awkward behavior where I stood looking at Eric like I had never seen a man over 6 '0.

“I believed you wanted to see me,” he said with a shoulder shrug and a shy smile. He looked sweet when he lowered his eyes in a timid way but with a contagious, dimpled smile.

Suddenly it felt like I was on a first date with a guy I already was madly in love with. Like when I was fifteen and met in secrecy one of my older sister's classmates to make out in the play house by the daycare.

“Of course I wanted to, Eric,” I said with an embarrassed giggle and he looked up at me with those mazmirazing eyes. I giggled again just by meeting his eyes.

He smiled and reached out Odin's leach towards me.

“Do you want to take a walk?”

I looked down at Odin who just looked at Eric without acknowledging me. I gave him a smirk then I looked at Eric again. He was dressed in the black Adidas joggers he had in the photos with a black hoodie.

“I would love to take a walk but I think you can keep the leach…” I nodded down to Odin and Eric looked down too on the dog worshiping him by his feet. Eric made a low chuckle that warmed my chest and made me giggle.

“I can keep it…”

He looked at me with an embarrassed smile and big, boyish eyes.

He may be a dead man but he made me feel more alive than any other man had.

#bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard #writing #fan fiction #story #bill skarsgård writing #bill skarsgård fanfiction #fiction #Eric #the crow #in the dead of night

60 notes · View notes

burningvelvet · 5 months ago

Text

I finished Moby Dick. So, to continue my former post(s) documenting my thoughts, here we are (spoilers ahead):

captain ahab: i am once again asking hast thou seen the white whale

Narrator, for the 5 millionth time describing captain ahab: "MONOMANIACAL. MONOMANIAC. MONOMANIA."

I was thinking "the homosexual themes everyone talks about are really exaggerated apparently…" and then I got to the chapter about sperm squeezing

Stubb meeting with the French in chap 91 had the exact vibe of a filler episode on a comedy sitcom

there are a lot of moments that reminded me of The Office ngl like i could just imagine stubb in the little interview chair just talking. so much meme material. he's seriously just doing his own thing. the little random characters like the blacksmith and carpenter just talking shit and side-eyeing ahab in the background lmaoooo

Saint George didn't kill a dragon, it was a whale #THETRUTHREVEALED #WHALETRUTHERS

It would have been hilarious if the British people told Ahab that they already killed Moby Dick already before he could get to it. I was so hoping that would happen. Bonus points if it was the Rachel after he'd turned them away.

Ahab discusses the topic of madness a lot. It's almost like he's… mad...

I vote Ahab for the most Byronic hero to ever Byronic… Heathcliff and Rochester have nothing on him… The origin of the Byronic hero, Byron's titular character from the narrative poem Childe Harold, is literally mentioned by name in the novel and had to be a blatant inspiration - it could not be more obvious! (I have yet to encounter the famed Byronic heroes of Russian literature, most notably Eugene Onegin, a work where Byron is also blatantly name-dropped).

Everyone thinking Queequeg was dying and having a coffin made to his measurements and filled with grave goods at his direction and then him literally climbing into the coffin to test it out and then waiting silently to die…. then all of a sudden getting better and saying he chose to recover bc he remembered he had something on his to-do list….. iconic

Ishmael referring to Queequeg as "my Queequeg…" omg. Queerqueg

Queequeg drawing figures like the ones on his tattoos omg… au story where Queequeg is an artist/tattoo artist when???

I was literally saying "AWWWWW" out loud when Ahab and Pip were having their little moments

The irony of Ahab abandoning the Rachel then it coming back for Ishmael… the coffin lifeboat… etc… good stuff…

okay ahab is my man but yeah he was an asshole to the captain of rachel.

also feel bad for tashtego. he wanted that gold doubloon so bad and ahab was like SIKE, MOTHERFUCKER! umm tashtego did not get cut out of a whale by queequeg to deal with ur shit ahab!

Once again wanting a Black Sails/Moby Dick AU… I found this essay about the similarities between Flint/Ahab https://ijms.nmdl.org/article/view/22389/14361

They only have like 2-3 little moments together but like… Starbuck/Ahab kind of outdoing Ishmael/Queequeg there for a moment… chaps 132/134… oh my godddddddddddddd whyyyyyyy

Captain Ahab's moments in chapters 36/37 AAAAAHHHHH you will see me being normal about this

I noted some of my favorite Ahab moments/chapters and they are 36/37/41/70/99/108/109/113/115/116/119/125/129/132/134/135. Like I may seriously just re-read those chapters (no offense to Melville's whale facts, Stubb's jokes, & Pip's insanity)

the end is kind of similar to the great gatsby in the sense that you finally realize the entire novel was actually written for him to cope with his grief-related trauma & then suddenly it all makes sense. the lingering, the sentimentality regarding seemingly insignificant details or people, the meandering/digressing/procrastinating getting to the end, etc.

there are actually several moments -- i don't know if he actually referred to ahab or the others in past-tense specifically, but there were several moments where i felt like i kind of thought he was giving away the end before he did (it wasn't a shock to me bc i read about the end prior, but still)

#moby dick #herman melville #my reviews #reading opinions #book thoughts #book opinions #american literature #english literature #literature #lit #classic literature #captain ahab #melville #books #reviews #bookblr #spoilers #moby dick spoilers

110 notes · View notes

rindragon-from-twewy · 1 month ago

Text

Swap au character intros part 4!!!

Spoilers for specifically Raincode Chapter 0 ahead!

Let's start with Zilch! In this au his forte becomes Audial Aptitude - thanks in part to his animal ears. If you've seen my art of Zilch before, you'll probably have noticed I like drawing him with his animal ears as his actual ears and not on top of his hat. It's cuz I generally just hate the ambiguity of it. Are the animal ears real? Are they just on his hat? Why do they move? Why does he have 4 ears? So I just like making his animal ears his only set of ears. That being said, apparently they're fox ears??? I always assumed wolf??? But I digress- His uniform has been changed up to be reminiscent of an orchestra conductor cuz hahah audio. His face tattoos are meant to be those spotify code scanners - the right cheek leading to It's All So Incredibly Loud by Glass Animals and We Own The Night by Chandler Kinney on the left (cuz I think it's funny!) As for his last name change, "Allegro" in musical terms means "to be played very quickly" which I thought would suit him quite well as someone who can solve cases really fast. His personality is basically the same, the only alteration being that he carries around a notepad and pen in order to help keep track of all the hundreds of things he's constantly hearing all the time.

Next is Pucci. She's received Spectal Projection from Melami and if you thought being good at hearing made her existential then BOY HOWDY does being able to use her body as a vessel for spirits fuck her up even more! Originally I was going for a classic "fortune teller" look for her but I instead went with a cute seamstress-y sort of look instead cuz I couldn't really get what I had in mind initially to look good. She wears a tape measure like a scarf and a thimble as a necklace charm. Her eyes, while cute, have a sort of dead look in them that make others wonder if she's even alive at all. Her last name has been changed from Lavmin to Lavender because in flower language, they're representive of purity, serenity, grace and calmness - all traits she seems to exhibit until she actually starts talking and you realise she's just sort of awkward and shy. She finds it easier to talk to ghosts/spirits then living creatures and honestly probably gets along reeeaaally well with this AU's version of Vivia.

Now, you may be looking at Aphex and going "Rindude! You changed fuck all about him!" And yeah, you're right... The only major changes I made was switching out his coat, boots and like doubling his muscle mass. He's strong. He could beat you up, no questions asked and it definitely shows! His forte is now Thoughtography but he's just as angry as ever - originating from the "front lines" that canon Zange mentioned in his own backstory. For that reason, his coat is inspired by WW2 trenchcoats and while my art doesn't show it very well, everything he's wearing looks and smells like he's crawled straight out of a dumpster. Originally I was going to change his last name to Harkness as an homage to Captain Jack Harkness, a WW2 soldier inspired character from (surprise, surprise) Doctor Who but considering the fact I did that exact same thing with an oc of mine for my A levels earlier this year... I instead went with Tyler; an homage to another Doctor Who character called Rose Tyler who is also a badass blonde <3

And that's all the details I'm sharing for now! It's a little strange considering I've written the Storm Cypher fanfic about half way through its chapter 0 already so I have a lot more to say about the train gang then I did anyone else - since they've already had stuff actually written for them. Melami and Zange's swap au designs will drop like... as soon as I figure out how to draw elderly people. So soon, hopefully! But yeah, I'm cooking super good atm I just can't really share much due to the nature of writing lol. I've been loving getting asks about it though! Deadass, it makes me kick my legs and giggle to know people are crazy enough to care about this AU- >w<

#master detective archives: rain code #raincode #swap au #fanart #zilch alexander #pucci lavmin #aphex logan #master detective archives: storm cypher

38 notes · View notes

starrysaturdays · 5 months ago

Text

28th may fic rec!

here are some fics i really enjoyed this month in no particular order!

Shadows Come With The Pain That You're Running From (Love Was Something You've Never Heard Enough) (51K) by yrsacd

a Band AU in which Harry isn't allowed to be who he really is and the North American Tour might bring some unexpected truths into the web of lies and also a bit of heat that has very little to do with the summer in the US.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

Help me (298K) by louxhazxx

Harry is innocent. Louis is not. Louis is a dom and a part of the BDSM community. Harry is not.

When Harry meets Louis and finds out about his lifestyle he wants him to teach him everything. Louis is hesitant at first, but what happens when he eventually agrees and they start a special kind of BDSM relationship without a contract? Will everything go well, or will there be complications?

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

a crown of heartache (70K) by WordsInBloom28

The Royal Tail: an alpha den, a strip club, a place where secrets are concealed and consent is medicated. It’s also the place Harry has been trapped for the last three years.

Through luck or fate, Harry finds his way to Louis, a kind alpha who offers safety and comfort. After being freed from the confines of the den, Harry struggles to shake the darkness from his past.

He has a choice to make. Live in a mental prison of his own making or find the strength within himself to face his demons head on with Louis at his side.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Could Be A Catastrophe (29K) by hazzahtomlinson | @itsnotreal

Louis is one of the two veterinarians in town and somehow gets lucky enough for Harry’s three cats to be his clients.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

giving you all you want and more (giving you every piece of me) (2.5K) by lousdelicatepointofview (starryhaze) | @starryhaze28

“Wanna feel pretty.” Harry whispers, looking up at the ceiling. His face is painted in a soft yellow hue that’s coming from the fairy lights Louis has hung all over his loft. His features look soft, cherubic even.

He’s so young, so young and broken and Louis always patches him up but never fixes him.

“You are my love.” Louis replies his finger tracing over the right laurel tattoo. And Louis knows by the way Harry grimaces that he doesn’t believe him.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

Together unfold (71K) by marcythesassykitten | @marcythesassykitten

the one where Louis is determined to be insecure and stubbornly lonely forever, until Harry comes along to mess up that particular plan.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Written In The Stars? (50K) by unscattered_horizons

Niall is a writer. Well, technically he's a bar tender who's working towards the day when he pays the bills with his poetry. But for now, he works late and writes in the afternoon before his shifts, and shares a flat with his friend, Shawn. They were strangers before they lived together, but now they're inseparable.

His other friends from uni don't live far, and Louis and H have a kid now. Niall's in no rush to follow in their footsteps. He's happy with his life.

But he has a side job writing horoscopes for an online magazine, because London is expensive and he needs the cash. Niall may not realise it, but some of the horoscopes reveal more about his heart than he's ready to acknowledge. Niall's side gig might prove to be a catalyst for an entirely new life, one he didn't even know he wanted until it was staring right back at him, waiting for him to take a chance and trust his instincts.

What I've been calling the horoscope fic. Inspired by a Tumblr post

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Maybe It's Heaven (81K) by therogueskimo | @bravetemptation

When Harry Styles finds himself forced to go home for Christmas, the last thing he expects is to fall in love.

But then he meets Louis Tomlinson … again.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

May You Enjoy Your New Life (264K) by aimmyarrowshigh

It begins for them all at the bungalow –

'Alright, time to lay out the cards. We’re in this together and hopefully, for the long haul, yeah? So I think – you know, we should just be honest. It’s deal-breakers time. That thing that like, if we’re gonna hate you or something, just tell us all now.'

When One Direction begins, Harry Styles is a sixteen-year-old boy foundering under the pressure of impending fatherhood. His ability to balance the sobering responsibility of caring for his tiny daughter, Millie, and the exhilaration of seeing his own dreams coming to fruition affects not only his future, but those of Liam, Zayn, Niall, and Louis, who never expected fealty to be the key to their success. But Liam is the first to show him how to grow up without growing old, and Zayn is the first to defend from the public what is private and precious. Louis -- Louis is the first for a lot of things; for most of the moments of Millie's life and for the moments of Harry's that matter. And Niall is the first to toast when Millie is born: Go maire sibh bhur saol nua -- 'may you enjoy your new life.'

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Allegiance to your burning heart (82K) by driveinbingo | @joekavaliers

“Have you written any more new songs?”

“I have, yeah. Lately they’re just…coming out of me.”

“Are there any more about me?”

He places a hand on the back of Louis’s neck, carding his fingers through the hair there. It’s getting long again, almost the length it was when Harry left. “They’re all about you.”

In the ten years since he last saw his ex-boyfriend, Harry has become very rich and very famous and everything's just great, thank you very much. He definitely doesn't even think about Louis anymore. And he's certainly not going to let a ghost from his past haunt him as he embarks on the biggest tour of his career.

Except Louis always did find a way to crawl underneath his skin, didn't he?

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Secrets in Winter (82K)by softfonds | @softfonds

If Harry Styles thought he was going to have a peaceful winter while staying far away from the rake who lived across the street, he was sorely wrong on two fronts. A Victorian AU.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

the very last drops of an ink pen (47K) by staybeautiful | @harruandlou

just after midnight on Harry's 30th birthday, he realizes he can't do another year without change. So, he forces it. Breaking up with Louis might have hurt less if they weren't co-owners of Studio 28, living within walking distance of each other, and if he wasn't the thing Harry was most afraid of losing. Secluding themselves on their shared estate in an attempt to save their working relationship may shed a light on where everything else started going wrong. And perhaps give them a chance to fix it.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

Give Me Truths (110K) by iwillpaintasongforlou (The Rainbow Cookie series) | @canonlarry

the one in which Louis falls in love with a fragile boy and tells him every beautiful truth in the world, as long as it makes him happy.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄

I Like to Watch (9K) by larry_hiatus | @larry-hiatus

If there’s one thing Harry loves, it’s watching his husband Louis get fucked by other men. After picking up a lad called Zayn who is baffled by this concept, the three men are in for a wild night.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂

If you made it this far, here are some stats and a cupcake!

I read 37 fics and a total of 1,657,404 words (yes thats a lot but i love reading and also a fast reader)

×͜× 🧁🌼

#28th appreciation #fic rec #larry

60 notes · View notes

boopshoops · 8 months ago

Text

TWST OC INTRODUCTION - TCOAV

Ezra Goldspire - Who Knows Best

Name: Ezra Goldspire

Nicknames: Ezzie, Killifish

Gender: Male

Pronouns: He/him

Sexuality: Homosexual

Birthday: May 7 (Taurus)

Age: 362 (In canon and AU)

Height: 5'11 or 179cm

Voice Claim(s): Caleb Hyles

Twisted from: Mother Gothel/Esther Gothel of Tangled

Unique Magic: "What Once was Mine" Through the use of magical herbs and alchemy, Ezra is able to capture the likeness of himself and other individuals. He can share and change other's physical features with these concoctions, ranging anywhere from shoe size to facial structure to vocal coords. These changes last as long as he desires as well as under his own set conditions at the cost of requiring outside materials to complete. Typically the magic is contained in what appears to be a type of spice or powder, and the change leaves a mark/tattoo on the individual which the magic is cast to indicate what exactly was changed.

Grade: Primarily teaches Sophomores and Juniors

Class: Teaches art and music, along with being the homeroom teacher of class 3-D.

Hobbies: Alchemy, botany, herbology, singing, painting, playing the harp, improv.

Likes: Broadway, theater, pasta alla gricia, small spaces, spring, jewelry, floral arrangements, experimental learning, any music.

Dislikes: Crickets, wrinkles, scars, wasted talent, mumbling/whispering, tracking time.

Fears: Aging, other Changeling Fae, not being recognized by those he cares for, forgetting people.

Summary: As the most easygoing teacher on the entirety of campus, many of the students and fellow staff members view him as a scatter-brained daydreamer. However, his dreams filled with immense passion, as he desires for nothing more than to watch his student's talent blossom... and keep the bloom contained and protected in a glass case.

Now, don't get him wrong! He has the best intentions, of course. There are many, many scary people and places out there in this Twisted Wonderland. People who would take advantage of such bright minds. He is simply preventing that from happening. The man has been around for a long time and has been through his own share of ordeals, so he would most definitely know.

He has a big heart. While he goes about an odd, constrictive way of showing it, he does truly care. He has a hard time letting things go, and he simply wants the best for those he cares for. Ezra would spoil every single one of his students rotten if he were able. Even as a rather new professor at NRC, he wishes to guide every single one of them on the right path.

Outfit Inspiration

Author's Notes: ARGHHH MY BOY... Ezra is a very new character I made only a few months ago. He was created specifically for TCOAV, but alas I have grown attached. Given we already have quite a few gaslight gatekeep girlboss type characters over here, I decided to focus more on twisting different aspects of Mother Gothel. I particularly focused on her parental tendencies as well as her means of "caring" for Rapunzel. Whereas whether Gothel truly cares for Rapunzel or not is still up in the air, and they truly had a toxic relationship nonetheless, I wanted to make Ezra a more misguided but good individual.

#boopshoopsoc #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #disney twst #oc #twst wonderland #original character #oc art #ezra goldspire #digital drawing #digital doodle #digital art #oc profile #character art #original character art #boopshoopswriting #boopshoopsart

85 notes · View notes

genericpuff · 16 days ago

Note

omg can i just say i love your work so much!! it’s so fun to read this i’m over the moon

anyways, i’m aiming to get an art degree! i’m so inspired by your work. is this just a hobby or is it a job? i’d love to make art my full time job when i’m older, tho it’s not known for being very sustainable. how do you make it work??

ALSO your expressions, the anatomy, the faces, the colors, all of it!!! i aspire to draw like you one day!!!!

thank youuu!!

also whoof as for advice... well, for starters, it depends on what specifically you're wanting to pursue. Is it a specialized diploma / degree in a specific trade like animation/illustration/graphic design? Or is it more like a university BA? I ask this not because one is better than the other, more so because different schooling is tailored to different aspects of the overall "arts" industry and whatever you're currently studying (or planning on studying) is gonna be up to you and what you're planning on doing, whether it's being a freelancer or going into a specific industry! (or doing a mix of both!)

So all that said, take my advice with mountains of salt!!! What worked (and didn't work) for me may not apply to you! But I hope in sharing my own experience that it might resonate with you or at least give you an experience to relate to in your present and future endeavors :>

For full transparency though (and this will be a bit of a personal anecdote so bear with me): I am absolutely 100% not making a living off Rekindled, more so that it's just a side thing that I do that's supplemented by my actual job, which is tattooing. So by definition, Rekindled is a hobby! (and one that I very much enjoy doing and keeping as a hobby!)

But tattooing is also pretty rough right now, when I'm making money the money is great, but when I'm not, it feels like the same grind that every artist is on, trying desperately to get people to notice me and buy my work haha

I wish I could say that there's a moment where it all just "clicks" and everything falls into place, but it's more like... you just learn to take the good with the bad, and most importantly, you learn how to prepare for the bad so it's a little less bad the second and third and tenth time around. I know that sounds super bleak, but that's just the cycle of life in general - things aren't always good, we just do what we can to work through the bad times so we can find those good times and come out stronger each and every time.

I'm currently in one of those bad times, and I have been pretty much this entire year. The slow season that I thought would end around March... didn't. So with the slow season now turning into a slow year, it finally happened - a couple months ago, I picked up a retail job. It sucked to have to do because I quit retail YEARS ago in the hopes that I'd never have to return to it and that tattooing would always provide for me, but life has changed since then.

Despite this, I am in a very unique and privileged situation where I can "afford" to have slow seasons at work, but I'm also like... well aware that that can't last forever so I'm doing what I can now to slow the decay until it hopefully picks up again. I'm doing what I can, but ultimately, I know a lot of the circumstances of the past year have been due to the state of the world in general, which is far outside of my control. So I do what I can within my control instead, and that eventually included having to go back to retail.

Thankfully the retail job I work is great and I get to work with really cool people, so it's not all bad! But it definitely felt bad in the beginning because of the internalized shame I had towards going back to retail. Almost felt like I was proving to everyone else - especially within the tattoo industry - that I wasn't "cut out" for it.

But now that I'm doing it... I know that that's not true, and I frankly don't care what opinions people could have about it, because at the end of the day, the economy is shit right now and we all gotta do what we gotta do to survive. And having those couple shifts a week in retail means I can continue to keep doing what I do through both tattooing and making comics, because now I have more income coming in. And that is, overall, a good thing :)

Working retail to help make ends meet doesn't make me any less of an artist. It's just that making a living at this is difficult and isn't guaranteed to be a "happily ever after" type thing where you just "find a job" and the rest sorts itself out later. This is also something that applies to any field / career in general, life happens and things can change a LOT so on the one hand, that can be a hopeful blessing because it means you never have to be stuck where you are right now, you CAN keep moving forward towards the things that you're hoping for; but also, it can suck ass because it means even when the going is good, it's never forever.

When it comes to the art world specifically... regardless of whether or not the going's good, the important thing is to keep creating and keep moving forward.

Buuuut I guess if I had any real advice to offer beyond waxing poetic about my personal experiences, especially to those seeking an art degree - learn the business side too. Because in reality, there's a lot more to doing art as your job than just drawing. In fact, I would say that once you start doing art as your job, the actual creating is often forced to take a backseat to the things you have to do to make your art profitable in the first place - like marketing/networking, attending art markets, collaborating with other artists, running an online shop, building a clientele, etc.

So if you have the opportunity to do a class or two in marketing or event coordinating or anything under the umbrella of "business" that could supplement your art degree, please consider it! The art world is competitive, but that doesn't mean you can't give yourself a competitive edge by arming yourself with skills that others may not consider; and I do find a lot of people entering these fields tend to just completely forget or overlook the fact that doing art as a job means turning it into a business, which means you're gonna have to sharpen the business-adjacent skill sets alongside your art.

And I say this from experience, I SUCK at doing the business side of things because a lot of it I'm either really bored by or really bad at. Marketing myself on social media feels like an exercise in futility. Filing my taxes is torture. But those are still skills that are often necessary that I'm pushing myself to get better at - it's just often really hard to learn it through trial and error so taking classes would have probably helped me out a lot LMAO

It can be boring and it's not art, but it's still worth learning. Learn how to apply to art markets, learn how to file taxes as a self-employed individual, learn how to create a CV and portfolio for the industry you're interested in, learn how to decipher your metrics and statistics, learn how to offer quality customer service. These are all things that are, again, extremely worth learning, but also often overlooked when we think of "making a living off art", especially when it comes to freelancing.

That's pretty much the extent of the advice I can offer, at least in terms of the broad subject matter of "getting an art degree" and "making a living at art". I'm ironically sorta the worst person to ask when it comes to that, though, because there are times - like right now - when I'm very much not making that living! And it's requiring that I change my game plan so that I can continue to live - it doesn't mean I've given up on my art, it just means that right now my art can't pay my bills so I have to find another way to get by until they can again.

And of course, it cannot be understated that the circumstances in which I exist are different from yours. It's kinda like asking a Youtuber "how to get famous on Youtube", because the circumstances that made a Youtuber famous will vary widely from other Youtubers. For some people it was years of hard work and slowly building up an audience, others may have been an overnight sensation, and for anyone the ability to make videos on Youtube at all is dependent on what else is going on in their lives that allows them the time and energy and resources to do so. Sure, we kinda know what the end result "looks like", but how you get to that point is largely influenced by other factors and can't be summarized in some "how to" video beyond the general advice of "here's how to make a video for Youtube" "here's how to make an appealing thumbnail" and "here's how to engage with your community". Many of those famous Youtubers are following the exact same formulas as the smaller Youtubers, they just had other factors influencing their career path that got them to fame first / faster / etc.

I can create Rekindled the way I do now because I have a decade of experience already creating multi-panel comics with longform storytelling on a deadline, but someone who's just starting out in webcomics probably wouldn't be able to do exactly what I'm doing; just like how I can't ever perfectly replicate the look and vibe of Rachel's original work, because her work exists through the experiences and circumstances of her life which I could never copy because they're unique from my own.

When I am making good money again, it will still be influenced by other factors - some within my control, some purely circumstantial - that are unique to me that can't be summed up for the benefit of other artists.

If I were to hypothetically write you a guide on "how to make a living at art" based purely on my own life experiences, it would go something like:

Step 1: Spend your whole childhood drawing weeb anime art and writing Legend of Zelda fanfiction

Step 2: Get a diploma in 2D Animation from a for-profit school that puts you $25k in the hole

Step 3: Work at Starbucks for half a decade and then on your days off work on a really long comic series that you plan to spend the rest of your life making

Step 4: Get hired to do a tattoo apprenticeship with a shitty mentor who treats you like shit

Step 5: Work a bunch of other retail jobs while trying to survive your apprenticeship and then eventually find a job in a basement shop that happens to have a spare bed

Step 6: Survive COVID on savings, root beer, and that really long comic series that you're still working on but isn't getting read by more than 10 people

Step 7: Get really obsessed with an online webtoon that you love; then get really mad about it when that online webtoon turns to shit which motivates you to create an entire blog just to talk shit about it and make a fan comic rewrite about it

Step 8: Get a really cool readerbase from that fan comic through the pre-existing community of shit-talkers that you joined who now ask you questions like "how to make a living at art" which you're not even sure how to answer because you don't know if what you do can even be called a "living"

Step 9: ???

Step 10: Profit ?? Sometimes??

Yeah, not very helpful to literally anyone but myself (and not even myself because if past me was asking present me this question, they'd probably be very confused by my answer LOL)

That was a lot of words, but I hope at least a few of them help arm you with the confidence to pursue your goals!! A lot of it might also sound scary, but remember that the path is long and the scary times don't last forever. That path will often take turns you couldn't have anticipated, but that's okay! Ride along with it and see where it takes you - there's always joy to be found in this line of work so long as you keep moving forward and keep your eyes open for it <3

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #artist advice

36 notes · View notes

thlayli-ra · 1 month ago

Note

Can you do the kissing away their tears with drew and punk

Since Bad Blood, I have had a few requests for another instalment of the Winner's Room AU, then @afterdarkprincess inspired me with her post and I had this perfect little prompt for my Trick or Treat event sitting in my askbox, so I've mashed the whole lot together to write the final chapter of the Winner's Room AU. Enjoy!

Treat - 'Kissing Away Their Tears'

Characters - CM Punk, Drew McIntyre

Rating - Mature

Warnings - Blood, angst, smut, religious imagery

They say that dogs often find a quiet place to be alone when they know they're going to die.

Perhaps that was why Drew wanted to be by himself right now. He may not have been literally dying but he felt like he was, the pain in his head and body so visceral he could hardly stand. But the greatest pain of all was in his chest, off-centre, slightly to the left. In his heart. For when his blood and sweat had run out of him in great gushing rivers, something else had left him too, a piece of his soul, leaving behind a black hole like a decayed crust.

He sat bunched up on the floor, the room around him pitch black and silent. Pulling his knees up tighter to his chest, he set his forehead upon them, wincing at the anguish that wailed from the gruesome gash on his crown and let out a fresh surge of tears, coating his already damp and sticky cheeks.

No, he may not literally be dying. Yet, it felt like the end.

He never heard the door opening or the shuffling of booted feet stepping into the room. It was only when the room around him became drenched in cold, hard light that he even realised his solitude had been shattered. He peeked through his intertwined arms, blue glassy eyes trailing up the black boots, past the black and white kick pads, over the black and white trunks with the single heart among the six-pointed stars, panels of white on either side mirroring the white checked panels on Drew's own trunks, all finished off with a decorative silver lining. Ring gear as filthy and as soiled as his own attire.

Drew's gaze did not venture any further. Not up past the black gothic writing arched over the naval, or the twisting skull and serpent tattoo, and certainly not up past the greying beard and the thin, harsh lips and the crooked nose and definitely not into those two cruel pools of olive green that shimmered whenever they hit the light.

He didn't want to see the look on Punk's face. He knew why he was here, had even hid in the desperate hope that he wouldn't come for him. These past months, he had discovered first hand the depths of cruelty that this man was capable of and in only the past hour had been the ill-fated victim of the worst of it. For nearly forty-five minutes he had been beaten and maimed and tortured, busted open and made to bleed like a blessed statue of the Virgin Mary.

But with Punk, it was always a given that he could raise his game up another level, and Drew trembled at the prospect of what the older man would do to him now that he had a solid victory under his belt and they were completely alone with no interference this time.

'Please don't hurt me,' his quivering lips uttered quietly.

A nasally sigh permeated the air and another soft shuffle of boots as Punk made his way towards him. The Scot drew his large legs in tighter, rolling up into himself like a frightened hedgehog who's spines had been torn out, one-by-one. Vaguely aware of the demon crouching down in front of him.

Craggy fingers teased their way under his chin and coaxed it back. Drew flinched at the tenderness of their touch, softly guiding his blurry gaze up, but the Scot would not be tricked and locked his eyes instead on the swirling pattern of waves across Punk's chest, boxed in on either side by a white towel draped over his shoulders.

Another sigh. Punk sounded tired, but not the kind of exhausted tired he had been last time. More like mentally tired, emotionally tired, like a man who had been on the run his entire life and was now getting sick of running.

'Look at me,' his voice was deeper than usual, raspier. Drew wondered if his brief stint with the oxygen mask had affected it. Or perhaps, something else...? Had he also been-?

Drew wanted so much, so very much to look up but he was too afraid of what he would find, or worse, not find.

'Ok...' Punk's fingers slipped out from under his chin again and the fear dug deeper into Drew's chest. His hand moved on its own accord, wrapping around Punk's wrist and snaring it tightly.

'Shhh, it's ok,' Punk placed his own fingers gently around Drew's, stroking them with a feathery touch. 'I'm here. I'm not going anywhere.'

That should have terrified him yet the thought of him leaving terrified him even more.

Drew watched Punk's other fist, the fight tape circling it dyed a rich red, almost hiding the pencilled-on stigmata in the centre of his palm, as it clumsily found the edge of his towel and unfurled it from around his neck. The Scot gasped as it was pressed down onto the top of his head, directly above the horrific crevice cutting through his skin. As Punk applied more pressure, Drew's entire six foot five frame gave an almighty shudder and his lips parted enough for a fragile whimper to escape.

'Yeah, it's a real bad one,' Punk hushed out. 'Must have caught the edge of the tool box or something. You'll need to see the medic afterwards to get it stitched up.'

His words offered no comfort to Drew who gritted his teeth and tried to fight off the pain in his skull. Another whine sounded in his throat.

'Shhh, I know, I know.' The older man gave a little tug on his wrist but Drew grunted and refused to release it. 'Can I have my hand back, please?' There was a slight joviality in his tone. It helped put some of Drew's fears to rest. Surely he wasn't going to hurt him that much if he was making jokes and tending to his wounds? Eventually his fingers unclamped, and Punk pulled his wrist free. The sudden loss of connection panicked the Scotsman and he fumbled around for another part of Punk to hold, finding a spot on the older man's thigh and curling his fingers into the muggy, moist seam of his knee pad.

'You're a mess,' Punk noted aloud, using his newly freed hand to pick up the corner of the towel and wipe at the bloodstains on Drew's face.

Something sparked inside of Drew, a knee-jerk reaction that he couldn't contain. 'Because of you,' he spat back at the other man, albeit feebly.

'I promised you I would make you bleed.'

'And you did.'

'I did.'

'And now it's-' Oh no! No, no, please. Not here, not right in front of him! But his gates had been kicked in by this very man until they were destroyed completely, hanging off of their hinges all warped and mangled. Drew could no longer hold back the welling tide inside of him. 'I-it's over!'

Huge, fat tears poured from his eyes. His shoulder began to quake, wracked with his heart-wrenching sobs. And Drew had nothing left, no energy or defences, however small, remaining to stop it. So he sobbed like a lost child, clenching his fingers even tighter around the edge of Punk's knee pad, not a single shred of light to help guide him through the suffocating darkness.

'Hey, now.' The towel was removed from his head and dropped to the floor. Now both sets of inked hands were cupping Drew's bearded cheeks and he gave no more resistance as his jaw was tilted back and finally, finally he looked up.

He looked at Punk.

The older man didn't just sound tired, he looked tired. The ever-present bags under his eyes were swollen and puffy, coloured a deep pink. His scruffy, silver-speckled cheeks were drawn, his hair a tangled mess and the area around his eye sockets sunken in.

But it was his eyes themselves that grasped Drew's heart and squeezed it mercilessly. The way they gently shimmered like the quiet ripples of a lake in the moonlight. The delicate tenderness in them that struck Drew as viciously as the heavy metal wrench had in the cell.

Punk's white lips parted slightly, a warm breeze ghosting on Drew's face.

'Please don't cry.'

Drew shook his head with despair. Defeated, and not because his shoulders had been pinned to the mat for the one, two, three. 'First, I lost our bracelet and now... now I'm losing you too.'

Punk sighed again, pulling in his bottom lip to rake it with his teeth. 'I was never yours, Drew,' he said at last, and the Scot eyes filled again, weighted by the pull of the concrete slab chained to his feet dragging him beneath the waves to drown. 'But...' a sliver of Punk's tongue appeared at the corner of his mouth, stroked timidly across his lips.

Drew blinked up expectantly.

'.. but for tonight, you are mine.'

He leaned in, placing those same lips on Drew's cheek. The Scotsman froze, paralysed by Punk's taser lips brushing his skin. Unable to do anything, not even breathe, as one-by-one Punk kissed away every single wet droplet trickling down his face. His kisses were tranquil and sweet, each one dropping a piece of serenity back into Drew's soul, helping to repair some of the fractures left by the brutality of their match.

After chasing away the last tear, Punk pulled back every so slightly, finding the crystal blues of Drew's eyes, pausing, thinking. Then mentally saying 'fuck it' and lunging in to capture Drew's lips. At first, the Scot didn't know what to do but when he felt Punk's tongue tease his own, a simmering tang bursting on his taste buds, he returned in kind. Both of their mouth opened up, allowing the other in and they enthusiastically explored one another, probing deep into each crevice and fold. Drew's tongue found the empty groove of Punk's missing molar and swirled in the gap until his lips curled with mirth and a thought suddenly popped into his head.

This is the first time we've ever kissed!

All the vile, cruel, sadistic crimes they had inflicted on one another and they'd never so much as shared a single kiss. It seemed bizarre under the circumstances.

But they were more than making up for lost time, growing greedy and sloppy with one another's lips until at last Punk let go, a misty look in his eyes and a lopsided smirk on his lips. Lifting himself up slightly on his knees, his blood-splattered fingers went to the waistband of his trunks and pulled out the knotted ties holding them up. Drew looked on as Punk slowly and deliberately untied the chords, savouring the show being played out for him, especially relishing the part when Punk hooked both of his thumbs in the slackened waistband and slipped them down his thighs, over his kick pads and off, leaving him naked from the knees up.

Punk's busy hands set to work, clutching at Drew's ankles to tempt his gigantic legs down in order to straddle the larger man's lap, then seized his wrists and guided Drew's hands to his hips. The Scot readily obeyed, holding his holy relic steady as he nudged in closer. Punk's own fingers were fiddling with the studded waistband of Drew's bloodied trunks, yanking it down enough to free the Scot's cock. He gasped loudly when Punk looped his fist around it and gave it several delicious strokes from root to tip.

Closing his eyes, the Scotsman tipped his head back against the frigid wall, every other sensation suddenly numbed bar the glorious one between his legs. This was an entirely new side to Punk that he had never imagined possible. This man, who had shown him nothing but hatred and spite all these months, all these years, was now being so loving, so affectionate, so gentle, caressing him with all the tenderness of an angel's wing. It was like a religious experience, a vision, a revelation, and suddenly he realised this this was all he'd ever wanted and had been so blind to it this whole time simply because he had no idea it even existed.

Somehow, some way, there was enough blood left in Drew for it all to rush south. Punk eyed the bulging appendage, mesmerised. His fingers found each side of Drew's head and delicately slid his foreskin back, lifting the veil to admire his blushing bride beneath. Drew let out a shaky breath, his cock bobbing with delight.

No more words needed to be said between them. They had put everything out there in the open, they had traded barbs on the mic, they had flogged the skin from one another's back, they had beaten each other until they had painted the canvas with their blood. There was nothing more to give.

Except one thing. One last gift that Punk had to offer Drew; and as he lifted himself up onto his knees and lined himself up with his throbbing cock, placing his forearms on Drew's broad shoulders to lock on tight to his gaze, he readily gave that gift.

His undying attention. At long last.

And Drew accepted it gleefully, never once wavering from his intense hazel stare as Punk pushed down onto him, piercing himself with the spear. His hole opened wide like a flower in the sun, welcoming Drew's warmth in and he slipped in easily. It was nothing at all like that time after Summerslam, in the showers. It felt right, as if it was their natural state, a habit, like putting on his wedding ring every morning. Or perhaps not, perhaps more like, when he used to put Punk's bracelet on, after the elastic had stretched loose to accommodate Drew's meatier wrist. Within only a couple of pushes, Punk had taken him in all the way to the hilt and it felt so incredible that Drew nearly cried again.

They began to move, Drew thrusting his eager hips into Punk while the older man squatted down onto him, both finding a perfect rhythm easily and settling into it. Both starting to blush and bead with sweat, the dried blood on their faces staining the dewdrops scarlet to look like fresh clots skimming off their brows. Both of them keeping their eyes trained on each other and only each other.

And in that moment, Drew saw the lines of blood on Punk's face, saw his short hair spiked out like a crown of thorns and as he bobbed up and down, he would catch the single light in the room directly behind him, and the Scot gasped aloud when the vision manifested into reality.

He had been wrong. Punk was not a succubus or a demon. He was a saint, with a halo shining around his head.

Punk's words from a week ago crashed into him. It had been more than a threat - it had been a prophecy. One that had come to fruition;

'You will look up,

and I will wipe the blood from your eyes so you see me,

And it's not a god you're praying to,

It's not the devil you're praying to.

You will be praying to

CM Punk!'

#Thlayli's Trick or Treat #Thlayli-writes #cm punk #drew mcintyre #punkintyre #drewpunk #wrestling fanfiction #wwe fan fiction #set after bad blood #winner's room au #fic requests

28 notes · View notes

foundtherightwords · 17 days ago

Text

The Dark that You Lit

Pairing: Hellcheer (College AU), Blind!Eddie

Summary: After months of dating, Chrissy is finally comfortable enough around Eddie to take the next step in their relationship, but can she let go of her fears to become truly intimate with him?

Warnings: non-explicit sex, loss of virginity

Word count: 7.5k

A/N: This was written for Day 5 of 2024 Hellcheer Halloween Week, with the prompts "first time" and "run". The title is taken from Snow Patrol's "Talking About Hope", and I took some inspiration from the poem, "First Poem for You", by Kim Addonizio as well. I gave Eddie's tattoos new meanings to fit this version of his character better. We never got an explanation for them in canon anyway, so I figured it would be OK.

Sequel to This Is the Sound of Your Voice, but can be read as a standalone.

It's my first time (ha!) writing such a detailed sex scene (not graphic, but more detailed than my usual), so please let me know what you think!

The rain started the moment they stepped out of the train station. Spring came early that year, and this was a warm, friendly rain, big, fat drops that fell on pavements and rooftops with a cheerful sound. Still, Chrissy was annoyed.

"Shit," she mumbled under her breath. "I know we should've brought an umbrella."

Behind her, Eddie gasped in mock consternation. "Is that a swear word I just heard from you, Miss Cunningham?!"

She grinned. "That's your bad influence rubbing off on me, I guess."

They had just been to Jackson Park to see the cherry blossoms—well, to see them in Chrissy's case, and in Eddie's case, to enjoy the sunshine and the petals drifting over his face whenever there was a breeze. In the five months since they started dating, it had never ceased to amaze Chrissy that Eddie always found his own way to experience things, things she'd thought one would need to see to fully appreciate. Eddie never let his blindness stop him from reveling in beauty. It was what she liked most about him.

"How about this?" she said. "You wait here, and I'll run to the dorm and get an umbrella, and come back for you."

"You don't have to go through such trouble for me." Eddie shrugged out of his leather jacket and draped it over her head, before motioning to her with his cane. "Come on."

"But you'll get soaked," she protested.

"A little rain never hurts anyone," Eddie said and started walking down the street, seemingly unaware of the rain splattering over his hair and shoulders.

Shaking her head, Chrissy lifted the bag containing the remnants of their picnic lunch to her shoulder and ran after him. She may admire Eddie's love for life, but sometimes he had no survival instinct.

"Fold up your cane," she told him, holding the leather jacket over her head with one hand and grabbing his elbow with the other, "and let's try to outrun this, or you'll catch a cold. I don't want to spend the entire spring break nursing you."

"I wouldn't mind that." A teasing smile lifted the corner Eddie's mouth, but he did as she said.

And so, hand in hand, they ran down the street, keeping to the awnings when they could, dodging between umbrellas and people with newspapers and briefcases over their heads, giggling when they splashed across a puddle. Chrissy had to admit it was rather liberating, almost exciting, to feel rain falling on your skin, especially when you know that there is a warm and dry room waiting for you at the end of it.

Still, for all their hurry, they were dripping wet by the time they arrived at the dorm. The woman at the front desk peered at them disapprovingly over her glasses, as Chrissy signed Eddie in.

"You know that an overnight guest may stay no more than three nights," she told Chrissy.

"Yes, I know. Thank you!" Chrissy pushed the sign-in sheet back and quickly led Eddie away, hoping he hadn't heard. They hadn't discussed the possibility of him staying overnight. The plan was that they were going to hang out for the rest of the afternoon and maybe get some dinner before Eddie went back to his apartment. As they had done plenty of times before.

Some people would say that five months of dating was definitely long enough to spend a night together, but somehow Chrissy and Eddie never managed to find the time. Between their studies—Chrissy was applying for nursing school, and Eddie was getting his teacher certificate—and their jobs, they were lucky if they saw each other a couple of times a week. Chrissy had taken to walking from her lecture halls in the West Campus of UIC all the way to the English department in the East Campus, so she could see Eddie between classes and have lunch with him. And there were always people around as well—her roommate, Nancy, and his roommates. Eddie lived with his bandmates, and although they were perfectly lovely, Chrissy couldn't think of anything more dampening to romance than having three guys hang around like three enthusiastic puppies.

Admittedly, some of their failure to spend a night together was of Chrissy's own making. She always had some excuses ready—she had an early class the next morning, she had to work the late shift, she couldn't sleep unless it was in her own bed. She and Eddie had never talked about sex, and Eddie never pressured her into anything, never questioned her hesitation, but a barb of shame always pricked at Chrissy's insides whenever she thought about it. The truth was that she was afraid. Not of the sex itself, but rather of what it would mean for her and Eddie. She was afraid of taking the plunge, of committing to such permanence. And afraid of disappointing and being disappointed as well. She had only had one boyfriend before and no experience further than some kissing and cuddling, while Eddie had mentioned a few ex-girlfriends. Besides, he was in a band. Not a hugely popular band, but they played in local bars, and Chrissy had seen the way some of the women in the crowd looked at Eddie. Rather than making her jealous, such looks only made her more insecure. No doubt he was used to casual hook-ups.

But during Christmas break, she had missed him so much that some of those fears had faded considerably. Three long weeks without seeing Eddie, and if she wanted to talk to him, she had to drive into town to call him from a payphone, because she didn't trust her mother to not listen in. Her mother would throw a fit if she knew Chrissy was seeing someone like Eddie. The fact that he was attending UIC on a scholarship wouldn't mean anything to her mother. She would only see that he was blind, that his childhood home was in a trailer park in a small, inconsequential town, and that his mom was dead and his dad was out of the picture. None of those things bothered Chrissy, but she wanted to protect Eddie and herself, and if that meant keeping their relationship a secret for now, then so be it.

And when they came back from Christmas break, when she jumped into Eddie's arms and he dropped his cane to lift her into the air, Chrissy had decided it was time to take the plunge.

Of course, deciding to take the plunge and actually doing it are two different things. Even though she no longer made excuses for herself, the usual problems still stood. It wasn't until now, during spring break, that they had some time for themselves. Nancy had gone home, and Chrissy told her parents she was staying to study, which wasn't entirely a lie—she had to get her grades up if she wanted to get into nursing school that fall. Her other plan she told no one, not even Eddie.

To be fair, calling it a "plan" would be an overstatement, because her plan didn't extend further than inviting him back to her dorm room and asking him to teach her how to play D&D. This was no ruse either—she had wanted to learn for a while, since Eddie was so passionate about it. In preparation, she had bought a set of dice and borrowed a player's handbook. Eddie also brought his special set of tactile dice, with raised dots—Chrissy's Valentine's Day present for him, for which she had had to scour several hobby stores—and his Braille notes of past campaigns. Now he stood at the doorway to her room with his binder in his arms, looking a little lost, almost in awe even.

"So this is your room," he said.

"Yes."

"What does it look like?"

"Oh, just a standard dorm room." She took his hand and guided him through the room, keeping her pace slow and steady so he could count his steps, which Eddie told her was how he familiarized himself with new surroundings. "Here's the closet, here's the door to the bathroom, there's Nancy's desk and bed, and here's mine." She didn't mention that Nancy's side of the room was straight out of a Sears catalog, not a piece of paper or a pencil out of place, while her side of the room always looked like it had just been hit by a hurricane. She quickly straightened up the textbooks on her desk, cleared away the dirty plates to make space for Eddie to put his things down, and bustled about turning on the radiator and looking for towels.

"We need to get you out of those wet clothes," she said and winced as soon as those words came out of her mouth. They were so corny, so obvious an innuendo, which she didn't mean at all. "I'll find you something to wear while they dry," she added and winced again at how awkward she sounded.

She had nothing Eddie could wear except for her bathrobe. As she handed it to him, Eddie suddenly looked shy. "No peeking, OK?"

"I'll be in the bathroom," Chrissy said, trying to bite back a grin.

Despite that promise, she couldn't help a backward glance. Eddie was peeling off his wet T-shirt, and she caught a glimpse of his back, slim and wiry, lean muscles rippling under the skin that hinted at a lissome strength. Then he started to unbutton his jeans, and Chrissy turned away, cheeks burning up with a heat to rival that of the radiator. She beat a quick retreat into the bathroom, afraid that her blush was so vivid that even Eddie could sense it.

When she emerged a minute later, clad in a baggy UIC sweatshirt and an old pair of shorts, Eddie had wrapped himself in her bathrobe. His discarded T-shirt and jeans would have flustered Chrissy and sent her scurrying back to the bathroom, had it not been for the sight of his gangly limbs poking out from the pink, fluffy robe, which made her burst out laughing.

Unfazed by her laughter, Eddie struck a pose, like he was a supermodel on the latest haute couture runway. "How do I look?" he asked.

"Quite cute, actually," said Chrissy, picking up his clothes and putting them on the radiator to dry.

Eddie pouted. "Just cute?"

"OK, you look ravishing," she said. There were still some cherry blossom petals stuck in his hair. She plucked them away. "These pink petals go very well with the robe." And because he was still pouting, and because she could never look at his lips long enough without wanting to kiss him, she did just that.

When they first started dating, Chrissy had often had to tell Eddie she was about to kiss him, so he wouldn't be caught off-guard. Now, they were comfortable enough with each other and he could sense her well enough that she no longer had to, but she still liked to touch his face first, to let him know.

The moment she put a finger to his lips, Eddie smiled in anticipation. As their lips touched, he embraced her in the way she liked, with one hand on the small of her back and the other caressing her face, as if it wasn't enough to just kiss her with his mouth, he must feel her with his entire being as well. The kiss went from sweet to hungry, and Chrissy could feel her body rising to his touch, straining against the fabric of her sweatshirt, seeking relief, while heat pooled between her legs. It scared her. It wasn't the first time she felt this way when Eddie kissed her—in fact, she always felt that way whenever he kissed her—but this was the first time that she planned to do something about it, and it scared her. They were moving too fast. She wasn't ready yet.

Gathering all her willpower, she broke off the kiss and took a step back. "Sit down," she told Eddie. "I'll dry your hair." She thought he looked slightly deflated, but he sat down on the floor and crossed his long, boyish legs without protest. He'd kept his boxers on, she saw to her relief.

Sitting above him on the bed, she toweled his hair before blow-drying it, gently running her fingers through the long strands to loosen them. Eddie closed his eyes and arched his neck under her hand like a cat, and Chrissy had to fight the urge to kiss him again.

"Do you want to get started on the D&D now?" she asked, putting the dryer away.

He put his head back, his curls, now dry and fluffy, spreading over her lap. "No," he said languidly. "I'm too comfortable to move. I've melted into the floor. You're going to have to scoop me up."

Seeing his face turned up at her like that, Chrissy's willpower cracked. But she didn't succumb to temptation just yet. Leaning down, she only gave his nose a little peck. It would have to be enough for now. But clearly that wasn't enough for Eddie, because he grabbed her and pulled her, amidst protesting squeals and giggles, off the bed and to the floor with him, where he sought her lips again and again, until Chrissy was out of breath from kisses and laughter.

Their tussle had pulled the robe open across Eddie's chest, showing a couple of tattoos. Chrissy knew he had tattoos, but she had only seen two of them—the flock of bats, "because they're blind", as Eddie had once told her, hovering around his elbow, and the demonic puppet on the inside of his forearm, for "Master of Puppets", the first song he and his band had played together. These she had never seen before.

"What are these on your chest?" she asked, extending a hand toward the tattoos, only to pull back at the last second. She realized this was the first time she'd ever seen Eddie with his shirt off, and blushed again.

"My tats?" He pulled the robe down a bit to show her more clearly and pointed to one of the tattoos, the one lower down, a decaying skull or a demon with a blood-speckled mouth, Chrissy couldn't tell. "This is Eddie," he explained. "He's the Iron Maiden mascot. The guys convinced me to get it, so I thought, why not? My favorite band, and my namesake too. It's fitting."

"What about this one?" she asked, pointing to the one closer to his collarbone, a spider with spindly legs.

"It's a Kaua'i cave wolf spider. They live inside volcanic caves in Hawaii, so they're born without eyes."

Chrissy was quiet, thinking about how much Eddie was shaped by his blindness, and yet how much he refused to let it define him. She reached out, lightly brushed the tattoos with her fingertips. Eddie's breath caught the moment her fingers touched his chest, and she could feel his pulse hammering just beneath his skin. Somehow, it calmed her, knowing that he was also nervous. She was sure that if she kissed him now, he would welcome it.

Which was precisely why she didn't kiss him. Instead, she asked, "Do you have any other tattoos?"

"Just this one." He pulled his right arm out of the robe and showed her his bicep, where a half-dragon, half-bird creature writhed and brandished its claws. "It's a wyvern. A D&D monster."

"Let me guess," said Chrissy, tracing the undulations of the creature's body. "Looking at it can turn you blind?"

Eddie laughed. "No. I just like it."

He lifted her hand from his arm and started dropping little kisses on her fingers, one by one. Trying to ignore the fluttering in the pit of her stomach and lower down, Chrissy asked, "Who did all these for you?"

"Friends, anyone who can draw and wield a tattoo needle, really. I described what I wanted, and they did it."

"But how would you know that they would tattoo the right thing?"

Eddie shrugged, pulling the robe back up. "You gotta trust the person whose hands you're putting yourself into, and let go."

Those words seemed to speak to Chrissy's heart. Can I trust your hands? she wondered. Can I let go?

"Why did you get them?" she asked.

Eddie gave her a gentle smile. "Even though I can't see them, is that what you mean?"

She had been meaning to ask him that for a while, ever since she first saw his tattoos, but she was afraid that it would come off rude and nosy. Now that Eddie had put it so bluntly, she admitted, "... Well, yes."

"I know they're there. I think they're cool. And, not to sound like a dick, but I think tattoos are mostly for other people to look at anyway."

"How so?"

"Think about the person with wings tattooed on their back, for example, or a girl with a rose on her ankle. How often do they see those?"

"But why mark your skin in such a permanent way? Aren't you afraid you're going to change your mind?"

"Not really." Eddie shook his head. "This"—he tapped his temple—"is much more permanent."

She wondered what he meant. But before she could ask, something else he'd said caught her attention.

"How would you even know that a girl has a rose on her ankle?" she asked suspiciously. "That sounds oddly specific."

Eddie's dimples made a sudden appearance on his cheeks, then vanished again. "Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Miss Cunningham?"

When he teased her like that, Chrissy could never stay annoyed for long. "Maybe," she said, a corner of her mouth quirking up.

"I'm not a total dork, you know," Eddie said. "I may be blind, but I still play guitar in a band. Some girls think it's cool."

His tone was jokey, but his words went through Chrissy like a shard of ice, turning her insides numb. It was exactly what she was afraid of, and to hear Eddie joke about it only worsened her fear.

Eddie must have noticed that she had gone silent, because his cocky grin disappeared and he squeezed her hand. "Chrissy?" he said, concern in his voice. "What's wrong? I was just kidding. It's not like girls are throwing themselves at me or anything."

Chrissy tried to pull herself together. Her insecurities were her problem, not Eddie's. "No, I know, it's fine," she managed to say. "It doesn't matter. It's just—"

"What?"

She might as well come clean now. "Well, when I was dating Jason, he insisted that we waited until marriage," she said.

It took a moment for this to sink in for Eddie. When it did, he only let out a soft "Oh", almost inaudible, like a breath.

"At least you have some experience," Chrissy said, her voice muted. "I have none." She turned away from him and put her forehead on her drawn-up knees.

Eddie was quiet for a long time. Then his hand felt about her back, her shoulder, and her head, until he found her chin and lifted it. "Chrissy," he said. There was no longer any trace of jokiness in his voice. "I don't mind any of that. We can wait until marriage too. If that's what you want."

Relief and affection flooded Chrissy's heart. How could she have ever doubted him? She put his hand to her cheek, so he could feel her smiling. "Is that a proposal?" she asked.

A faint blush colored Eddie's face. "Oh—I don't—I mean..."

"Relax, Eddie. I'm teasing you."

She kept his hand on her cheek, feeling the warmth against her skin, looking at his large brown eyes that saw nothing yet still took in everything, at his lips so ready to smile and to kiss, watching his face that bore no judgment, no irritation, only tender with affection for her. And she made up her mind.

The only question was how to tell Eddie what she wanted. They were touching each other, he was practically naked, and she didn't know what to do. For a confused moment, Chrissy tried to remember girls' nights in high school, when she and her friends used to giggle together about boys, but she had always blushed and laughed nervously when the talk turned dirty. She just didn't have it in her to be a seductress.

"I meant what I said though," Eddie was saying. "I'm not asking you to do anything—"

She nodded. "I know you're not—"

"—we don't have to do anything—"

"—I know, it's just—"

"—not until you're ready—"

"—but I am ready!" she blurted out.

Eddie's mouth went slack.

"... What?" he asked blankly.

Chrissy took a deep breath. "That's what I've been trying to tell you," she said. "I don't want to wait."

Turning her face, she trailed her lips across his hand, kissing his palm and knuckles, before pulling him close and sealing her mouth over his. Eddie's hand moved from her cheek to behind her ear, fingers winding through her hair, pressing her to him, while his lips moved between hers, soft and delicious. She could feel her body relax under that kiss, tension draining out of her like snow melting in the spring rain. Why hadn't she done this? Why waste her time worrying, when she could have simply kissed him and let things run their natural courses?

When she slipped a hand under the bathrobe and touched him, her palm scorching against his cool skin, it was Eddie who pulled away this time. "Are we doing this now?" he whispered.

Oh no. Had she completely misread him? Was he not interested—now or—or—ever?

"What's wrong?" she asked, without letting go of his hand. It suddenly occurred to her as to why Eddie was hesitating. "I have condoms here if you don't," she said.

"I'm not worried about—" Eddie stopped, an eyebrow raised quizzically. "Why do you have condoms anyway?"

"I bought some after we started going out. Just in case." She didn't tell him that it had actually been Nancy who advised her to do so. "Why, do you have some too?"

Eddie's impish grin flashed across his face. "Yeah. I bought them after we started going out too. You know, just in case."

Laughing, Chrissy leaned over to pick up from where they left off, but Eddie gently took her wrists to hold her back. "Wait," he said. "There's something I have to tell you."

Something in the way he said it made her grow cold again. "What is it?"

Holding her hands in his lap, Eddie bent down until his face was buried in her palms. "I lied," he said. Chrissy's heart dropped, and she clutched at Eddie, silently screaming at him to continue. "When I said I'm not that experienced," he explained, "I meant I'm not experienced at all."

In her confusion, she didn't understand what he was saying at first. Then it dawned on her. "What, you haven't—" With his head still in her hands and his hair tickling the inside of her wrists, he shook his head. "I thought you dated before?"

"I've gone out with a couple of girls, yes," Eddie said, his voice muffled. "I just went out with them. That's all."

"But—you know what to do, right?" she asked.

He lifted his head. Under his hair, she could see his face, all crimson, sheepish, miserable, a schoolboy having to confess his crimes. "In theory, yes," he said. "In practice? Only with myself."

"Eddie!" She swatted at his arm, but the tension was broken, thanks to his bad joke.

His dimples dipped and rose again. "Sorry. TMI."

"Those girls don't know what they're missing, do they?" she said, matching his playful tone.

"Oh, there have been opportunities. But I couldn't. I don't know why—it feels wrong, doing it with someone who's only interested because she thinks I'm this bad boy rocker or whatever, as opposed to..." He trailed off.

"As opposed to what?"

"I don't know. Maybe I was saving myself too."

"For marriage?"

"For you."

A part of Chrissy melted at that, but her insecurities were rearing their ugly Hydra-like heads again. This meant she would be his first too. She hadn't thought about that. What if she was no good? What if they were no good together?

Eddie squeezed her hand again. "Look, I'm really sorry, OK? I'm sorry for not coming clean with you sooner. If it made you feel any better, I'm pretty sure the cashier at Walgreens thought I was buying the condoms on a dare, so..."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"When we first started going out, I was kind of—terrified of you, a little."

"Me?" Chrissy asked, incredulous. If only he knew how nervous she'd been on their first date...

"I mean, you were the most popular girl at your school, you were a cheerleader—"

Chrissy shook her head, impatient. "'Were' is the key word here, Eddie. I'm not that person anymore. And even if I was, there's nothing to be afraid of."

"I know. I just thought I'd be no good for you. I didn't want you to know that I am a total dork after all."

Chrissy supposed she should be angry with him for lying—or at least for exaggerating and omitting the truth—but any annoyance she had with him faded away at that. For all his bluster and confidence, he was just like her, full of fear and self-doubt. Perhaps that was why they were drawn to each other, why she felt so safe around him.

"You are a dork," she said. "But I forgive you."

A smile broke across Eddie's face, small and unsure, like the spring sun coming out after heavy rain. "So you don't mind?" he asked.

"Of course not." She put a hand on Eddie's cheek, cradling and caressing his jaw. "We can show each other. I mean... if you want to."

"I always want to."

Those words opened the floodgate that Chrissy had been keeping locked inside her. Lunging at Eddie, she kissed him with abandon, her mouth and body and heart open, hungry for him. She pulled him stumbling to his feet, so they could get into bed. Eddie yanked impatiently at the hem of her sweatshirt, and she broke off the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head and toss it aside.

The moment the sweatshirt hit the floor and cold air hit her bare skin, Chrissy paused. She looked at Eddie, his face clouded with desire, his chest heaving with anticipation, his lips, plump and red from kissing—those lips, always those lips, they were going to be the death of her—and she had to fight a wild urge to laugh, because he was still wearing her pink fluffy bathrobe.

But this was too important, too meaningful a moment for laughter.

Gently tugging at the belt of the robe, she undid it and let it fall from his shoulders. They stood facing each other, the air between them humming with desire. Eddie extended a tentative hand toward her, and Chrissy met him halfway, catching his wrist and placing his hand on her. They had been frantic a minute ago; now they moved slowly, with great care, as if afraid that any sudden move may cause the other to dissolve into the air like soap bubbles.

Eddie had once told her about something in D&D called the Theater of the Mind, which he used a lot in his campaigns because it didn't rely on visuals. Now, he was touching her, gentle fingers skimming over her skin like he was building a version of herself in his own Theater of the Mind. Chrissy wondered what she looked like to him. Her face he had known well, but this would be the first time he touched her body.

Chrissy had always hated her body. As Eddie's hands moved, she could only think of what was wrong with it. His hands lightly stroked her shoulders, which were never elegant enough for the dresses her mother wanted her to wear. They brushed along her arms, which were never strong enough or graceful enough to lift the pompoms into the air. They circled her waist, which was never slim enough, and glided over her stomach, which was never flat enough, before coming to rest on the underside of her breasts, which were never big enough.

"Can I—?" Eddie asked, fingers fluttering over her chest.

"Yes." She took a step forward, pressing herself into his palms. His hand closed over her breast, one side and then the other, before letting go again.

"You have nice breasts." He sounded almost reverent.

"They're kind of small."

"No. They're perfect."

He took her breasts in his palms again, and the way his thumbs and fingers grazed them sent such liquid fire through her that she thought she would burst into tears or into flames, just from his touch alone. This was enough. She was enough.

He continued to touch her until the fire was too much for her to bear. The dreamy, almost wary touches forgotten, she put one of his hands on the waistband of her shorts, and together, they pulled until both the shorts and her underwear slid down her legs, and she could kick them away. His boxers followed. The back of her knees hit the edge of the bed. She fell backward into it, drawing Eddie down with her. He slipped a hand between her legs, almost by accident, yet even that brief touch was enough to fan the fire inside her higher.

"Kiss me," she whispered.

And he did. But this was no lingering kiss like the ones they'd had before. Eddie pulled at her mouth in gasping, grasping little kisses, as if he couldn't trust himself—or her—to stay long enough. She didn't know where to put her hands and where to direct his hand, wanting to feel him everywhere, on her, in her, all at once.

"The condom?" he reminded her.

Chrissy reached into a drawer in her bedside table, drew out the package, and handed one to Eddie with a nervous giggle. He fumbled with it, before settling himself between her thighs again. "You ready?" he asked.

"Mm-hmm." She didn't trust herself to say anything else.

His first thrust brought reality crashing back, as sharp and glaring as the pain that shot up inside her. She gasped, from shock as much as from pain, and Eddie immediately stopped.

"What is it?" he asked, voice tinged with panic. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," she managed to say, through gritted teeth. "Just give me a sec."

"Do you want me to stop?"

"No." She shifted her hips, trying to find a more comfortable position, to get used to the alien feeling inside her.

Eddie lifted himself up on his elbows to ease the pressure on her. With one hand, he caressed her face, trying to find evidence of her discomfort.

"I'm all right," she said, without feeling it. "I think I'm ready now."

Eddie started moving inside her, each thrust accompanied by a quivering breath. The pain dulled to soreness, and Chrissy lay still, afraid any movement would bring it back. Some vague pleasantness started to form at the edge of the pain, but before she could grab it, Eddie gave a shudder and collapsed on top of her, where he lay gasping quietly, and it was gone.

So that was their first time. Was this how it was always going to be? Where had they gone wrong? Chrissy wanted to push Eddie away so she could draw a deep breath, so she could curl up within herself and die, but she couldn't move. The pain in her body turned into the pain in her heart, and a void opened up inside her, where Eddie had just been a minute ago, and widened until she was nothing but a hollowed-out husk. She couldn't even cry.

Eddie edged away and moved to lie next to her. "I'm sorry," he said. "It was no good for you, wasn't it?" When she didn't answer, he said, in a small voice, "Is this a bad time to tell you that I love you?"

Chrissy turned to look at him in the dimming light. His hands were drifting toward her but not quite touching, as if he was afraid his touch would offend her. Although she had fallen for Eddie since their first date—and she was sure he felt the same—they had never said "I love you" to each other. With Jason, who had been free with his words and said so often, she had always replied, "I love you too", because that's what you're supposed to say when someone says "I love you". She had said those words so much that they had lost all meaning. With Eddie, it was a different matter.

"You've just been inside me, so I guess there's no better time," she said with a small laugh.

Eddie didn't laugh. He cupped her face, his way of focusing on her when he couldn't do it with his eyes, and said, simply, honestly, "I love you."

Like magic, her pain disappeared, replaced by a joy so fierce it was almost like another pain, only this one she didn't want to ever go away. The void inside her began to fill up. This wasn't the end of the world. They were young and ignorant. They still had time. And he loved her. That was the most important thing.

He loved her. She wished she could say it back to him. She wished she could say it with such ease and sincerity and passion as he had. But when she opened her mouth, it was only to say, "Perhaps we can try again."

"I don't know why you would ever want to try again after—after that."

But Chrissy found, to her surprise, that she did want to try again.

"I said we could show each other," she said. "But we didn't show each other anything that time. So yes, I'd like to try again."

He sat up, giving her his full attention. "Show me then."

Chrissy looked around, thinking. Her eyes fell on the opened drawer of her bedside table, and an idea occurred. Reaching into the drawer, she pulled out her sleep mask and slipped it over her eyes.

"What are you doing?" asked Eddie.

"Putting on my sleep mask."

"Why?"

"I want to feel you as you feel me."

As the mask plunged her into darkness, she heard Eddie take in a sharp, eager breath. His hand brushed down her side. A soft gasp escaped her when she felt the smooth undersides of his steel rings on her skin.

"What is it?" Eddie sounded frightened. "Are you still in pain?"

"No. I just—I wasn't expecting it, that's all."

"Do you want me to take the rings off? Do they bother you?"

"No!" She grabbed his hand and put it back where she wanted it. "Not at all."

The rings were warm from his skin, so she'd barely noticed them before, but now, with her eyes covered, the sensation seemed to increase tenfold, the smooth, firm touch of them, so different from the quivering softness of his palms and fingertips, yet still pleasurable in its own way, pleasurable because it was unquestioning Eddie's touch. No other hand would feel the same. Oh, she should have thought of this earlier! There was vulnerability in not being able to see, yes, but there was liberation in it as well, not having to worry about what she saw, and a certain exhilaration in not knowing what to expect while still trusting him with her entire body, her entire being. Let go, Eddie's words from earlier echoed in her mind. Let go.

Reaching out, she found his face and drew him down to her for a long, slow kiss. Just as he'd done with her before, now she ran her hands over him, building a map of him from her remaining senses. The smoothness of his skin, the scent of his 2-in-1 shampoo and body wash—such a boy, she would have to get him to switch to something else that wouldn't damage his lovely hair—mixed with the tanginess of his sweat, and the faint trace of mint in his mouth—she didn't like his smoking, so he'd been trying to quit. She traced her fingers over his tattoos, committing them to her own Theater of the Mind.

"You want to know something funny?" Eddie said, lips grazing her jaw, her throat.

"What?"

"Before we met, when I—touched myself, I never imagined anyone specific."

"And after?"

"I imagine you."

She didn't tell him that had been precisely the same for her as well. She only asked, a little hoarsely, "How do you imagine me?"

"When we kiss, you always make this cute little noise in your throat." He imitated it, like a pleased, breathless "hmm". Chrissy wasn't even aware that she had been making such a sound. It would've mortified her, but she heard the smile in Eddie's voice and knew he delighted in it, just as he delighted in everything about her. "So I would imagine that. And I'd imagine your soft skin, your sweet mouth, your hands on me..." He gave her a little kiss with each thing he listed off. "But I never imagine this."

"What, this?"

She slid a hand below his waist, and he made that noise again—that small, excited inhale. But she was determined to take it slow this time. Grabbing his other hand, she pressed it between her thighs, showing him how to touch her as she'd touched herself, as she'd only been able to do furtively, in her old bedroom at home or in the bathroom here, with the door tightly locked and without making a sound, for fear of discovery. But here, now, there was no fear. There was only the feel of his hand on her, the soft sound in his throat, and her own quickening breath. The fire was rekindling, sparkling embers spreading from low in her belly all the way down her thighs, concentrating where their hands met, at her core.

"Like this?" he whispered, his fingers supple and obedient under her hand, touching and stroking where she wanted, how she wanted.

"Yes," she panted. "Please."

Without pulling his hand away, he trailed his mouth down her throat and her chest, before closing his lips around her nipple. His tongue flicked against the sensitive bud, making her whimper, and when he nibbled at her, it was like a bolt of electricity that went through her, connecting his mouth to his hand, fusing him to her. She cried out as her body arched toward him, asking for more.

This time, there was no need to ask if she was ready. They both groped for the condom on the table, and before she knew it, their bodies were melded together. There was a twinge of half-remembered pain, but it went away the moment Eddie started to move against her. With each thrust, the fire inside her flared into life, scorching, demanding. She clung to him, her arms across his back, her legs around his waist, and her face buried in his shoulder, as her hips lifted to meet him, to move along with him, to urge him on. More. Harder. Faster. More. More.

She yanked the sleep mask down. Through blurry eyes, she could see Eddie looking down at her, his hair framed by the light coming through the window like a halo, and she thought he was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.

"Tell me you love me," she begged, fingers digging into his back as if she was trying to make a new tattoo there. "Please, Eddie."

He leaned down until their foreheads were touching. "I love you," he whispered. His breath blew hot and sweet across her skin, and as those words settled in her heart, the fire finally burst, sending flames of pure ecstasy over her. She thought it would drown out all sensations, but, like a lightning strike that threw the storm cloud into sharp relief against the dark sky, her climax only allowed her to feel him more closely, clearly, and strongly than anything she had ever felt before. When his own release came, a moment later, she triumphed in it, in the pleasure they had given each other.

Afterward, he gathered her into his arms and kissed her softly.

"Was that better?" he asked.

She smiled into his kiss. "Oh, totally."

He chuckled, a rumbling sound deep in his throat. "You don't really want to learn how to play D&D, do you?" he said. "This is what you had in mind all along, bringing me back to your room so you could seduce me."

"Seduce you?!" she said, laughing.

"Not that I'm complaining."

"How dare you imply that I may have ulterior motives?" she said, in mock outrage. "I do want to learn how to play D&D!"

He smiled and kissed her again. "I guess we can do that later then."

But they never did, not that day. The dice and the rule book lay forgotten on her desk, while they spent the rest of the afternoon in bed, exploring each other's body, mapping every dip and curve like two intrepid travelers discovering the hills and valleys of some unknown, magical country. She learned his tattoos, tracing the strings of the puppet, the claws of the wyvern, counting each and every bat. He learned that her front teeth were crooked, that her nose was slightly upturned, and that one of her calves was bigger than the other, something Chrissy hated because her mother pointed it out constantly, but now, under Eddie's touch, felt like an adorable quirk. She learned that he had a scar on his forehead, curving like a half-moon under his fringe, the result of an accident in the early days of his blindness. They both learned how to touch each other in other, different ways, finding out what they liked and what the other liked, becoming so perfectly in tune with each other that, when their bodies were joined, it was impossible to know where one ended and the other began.

When they got hungry, they finished the picnic leftover, sharing the food as they'd shared the pleasure. Then they continued their journey until exhaustion set in, and they fell asleep in each other's arms.

At some point during the night, Chrissy woke up. The radiator, set on a timer, had turned itself off, and the room was chilled. She gently got out of bed, wrapped herself in her bathrobe—which still smelled faintly of Eddie—and went to the radiator, where Eddie's clothes had dried. These she folded and put on a chair, before turning the radiator back on. Then she crossed to the window, lifted the blinds, and looked out.

It was raining again, a fine drizzling mist that turned the asphalt into specks of gold under the streetlights. It must be quite late, yet some lonely souls were still trudging on the pavement, hunched under umbrellas or with their collars turned up against the cold and damp. Chrissy wondered where they were going, whether they had somewhere or someone warm waiting for them, like she did.

Behind her, Eddie stirred in his sleep and made a noise that was half-whimper, half-whine, when he reached out and found her not there. Chrissy let the blinds fall, so the room was shrouded in darkness again, and made her way back to bed.

But she didn't go back to sleep right away. In the dark, she leaned over Eddie and traced his tattoos with her fingertips, seeing him as he saw himself, pleased that she was beginning to memorize them, just as she was beginning to memorize his body, his scent, the feel of his skin against hers. And that was when she finally understood what Eddie had meant earlier—this was the true permanent thing. Even when the ink had faded, this memory, this feeling would remain, lighting her up like a glow in the dark.

"I love you," she whispered. It didn't matter that he was asleep. She said it to fix the memory of this night in her mind, like Eddie fixing his memories with pictures on his skin. And now that she'd said it, she would be able to say it again, when he could hear her.

But he'd heard her. "Love you too," he mumbled into her hair, sleepily, easily, as if they'd said it to each other hundreds of times. With a smile, Chrissy slipped under the warm blankets and fell into Eddie's warmer embrace, where she slept again.

THE END

#hellcheer #hellcheer week #hellcheer week 2024 #hellcheer fic #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic #one shot

20 notes · View notes