#I should not have drank my evening would have been exactly the same

[watersshed]

Me when I say this time will be different after drinking a ton of caffeine plus alcohol and then having a panic attack when I’m trying to fall asleep

[dark-fics-4-you]

Angel

dark!stepbro!Rafe Cameron x f!Reader

Warnings: noncon (rape), somno, incest (step siblings), loss of virginity, unprotected sex, unwanted creampie, drugs, drinking, possessive behavior, controlling behavior, mentions of previous male masturbation

A/N: in my mind, Rafe is like 2-3 years older than Reader (everyone is 18+ and college aged)

Rafe’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped the steering wheel. The speedometer was flirting with triple digits but his eyes still flicked back and forth between you and the road.

He should have known better, he did know better, and still he let you walk out of the house wearing that sad excuse of an angel “costume.” In reality it was just tiny white ruffle shorts paired with a white corset along with angel wings and a halo top headband.

Any other night if you had tried to walk out the door in lingerie in front of your step brother, he would have told you to change, but because it was halloween, and seeing you dressed up like that made him so hard he couldn’t think straight, so of course he said ‘yes’ knowing he’d be walking into the party with the hottest girl on the island on his arm.

What he hadn’t anticipated however, was the number of guys (especially his friends) who had the balls to flirt with his little step sister right in front of him.

Even Topper and Kelce had been eyeing you differently and it pissed Rafe off to no end.

You followed him to the kitchen where he grabbed drinks for both of you and he tried to ignore the eyes that were raking up and down your exposed body.

“Are any of your friends here yet?” He asked as he passed your drink to you.

“I don’t think so,” you answered, fishing your phone out of your purse to check your texts.

He hadn’t planned on letting you out of his sight, much less 5 feet from his side, but when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder, he spun around to see a blond girl in a Tinkerbell costume.

“Are you one of Topper’s friends?”

“Yeah.”

“Hi, I’m Tiffany,” she flashed a smile as she drank him in with her eyes.

“Rafe.” He responded dryly, taking a swig from his solo cup.

“What’s your costume supposed to be?” Her voice annoyed Rafe and he looked down at his blue jumpsuit for a second to remind himself before answering.

“Cornelius Snow, I think? Um, from the Hunger Games? I don’t know, it was Y/N’s idea.” He mumbled, looking past the girl to check on you, but when he realized you were no longer standing beside him, or even in the same room, he quickly brushed past her without a word.

Luckily you didn’t travel too far, but Rafe’s relief upon finding you was short lived.

Two kook guys were standing next to you, practically eating you with their eyes, and sweet, oblivious you were none the wiser.

“I love your costume,” one said.

“You look fantastic tonight.”

“Aw thanks!” You beamed.

“Looks like your cup is getting empty, you want me to grab you a refill?”

“If you don’t mind-” you had begun handing your solo cup to the guy but you stopped yourself when Rafe appeared to your right, snatching the cup out of your hand and wrapping his arm around your waist possessively.

“It’s okay, I can take care of her,” he snapped at the two guys, shooting a deadly glare at them as he led you away.

“Rafe, what was that about?” You complained, completely confused by his behavior.

“Are you stupid or something, Y/N? Because I just watched you try to hand your drink over to two complete strangers at a fucking frat party.”

“They were just being nice-”

“They could have been trying to drug you for all you know,” Rafe chided you sternly and you couldn’t shake the feeling that he was talking to you like you were a little kid. “Rose put me in charge of taking care of you tonight, and you’re not exactly making it easy on me by disappearing without a word and accepting drinks from frat brothers.”

The two of you arrived at the kitchen and you silently handed your cup to him to refill your drink.

“Just… be careful, Y/N/N, okay?” You had turned away from him and he couldn’t help but eye the way your corset showed off your perfect tits, and he dryly swallowed, hoping that his hard on wasn’t too obvious.

You turned to look at him, sighing like you were annoyed, but you nodded your head as you grabbed the drink from him, “I know, Rafey, I know.”

“Where are your friends at?”

“They should be here by now, but I haven’t seen them just yet.” You looked around the room you were in, still not finding them. “I need to pee, where’s the bathroom?”

He took your drink, pointing towards the hallway where the restrooms were.

“Come right back here, okay?”

“Mm ‘kay,” you responded, heading to the bathroom.

Rafe didn’t want to be so worried about you, he didn’t want to be so over-protective, but he couldn’t help how possessive he felt over you, and the thought of any other man talking to you, much less touching you, was enough to have Rafe itching to grab a gun.

He hadn’t realized how long it had been until he checked the time and realized you had been gone for almost 10 minutes, which seemed unusual.

Rafe went to the bathroom, knocking on the door only to find that it was empty.

He cursed under his breath, angry that you had snuck away from him again, and he closed the door behind him as he anxiously pulled out his small bag of coke, using his key to bring a bump to his nostril.

Shit like this was the reason he did coke so much.

Rafe left, slamming the door before turning to look throughout the large house party.

You weren’t in the first crowded room that he checked, or the second, or the third; and by the time Rafe finally found you with Topper, watching him set up a line for you before handing you a rolled up dollar bill he was seeing red.

He watched as you leaned over the table and sniffed the white powder into your nose, his knuckles curling into fists when Topper draped one arm over your shoulders.

When you looked up and locked eyes with him, your face dropped in an instant.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“Rafe-” Topper jumped in his seat, removing his arm as his face turning red when he realized how pissed off Rafe really was.

“Shut the fuck up, Top.” He snapped, never taking his burning gaze off of you. “What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?”

“I- Top was just showing me how to…”

“No.”

“What?”

“No, you’re done. Party’s over.” Your step brother stalked closer, wrapping his hand around your arm and harshly yanking you up off the couch.

“Rafe, you can’t be serious, you do it all the time!” You protested, trying to pull against his tight grip as he forced you through the house and toward the front door.

“I said, no. We’re going home. Now.” His voice was practically shaking with rage at this point, the effects of the bump he took in the bathroom settling in.

“You’re being so unfair! My friends aren’t even here yet!” Your voice slurred and Rafe realized how drunk you were.

“Did you have another drink?”

“Topper made me one,” you answered, and now Rafe really wanted to kill him.

What the fuck was he thinking getting his little sister drunk and giving you coke? Apparently Sarah wasn’t enough for him, he wanted another Cameron sister as well.

He could have Sarah for all Rafe cared, but you were his.

“Are you even sober enough to drive?”

“Yes,” he snipped, pulling open the passenger door of his truck and roughly pushing you in before loudly slamming it shut.

The drive back to your house was filled with a tense silence, and you were too drunk to realize just how fast Rafe was driving.

Rafe just stewed in his anger and frustration, equally pissed off at you and all of the jackasses who had been hitting on you.

Especially fucking Topper.

He should have known better.

Rafe pulled into the driveway, mentally preparing himself for the explanation he was going to have to give Rose if she was still awake, but when he glanced over at your seat, you were fast asleep. He sighed, partly in relief that he wouldn’t have to explain himself, but also frustrated that he couldn’t chew you out more.

He got out of the truck, coming around to your side to scoop you into his arms and carry you inside. Rafe cradled you in his arms, careful not to wake you as he brought you up the stairs and to your room, closing the door before softly laying you onto your bed.

Rafe leaned over, his fingers found the straps of your shoes, undoing them before pulling your heels off your feet and laying them onto the floor, where he took off his own boots as well.

When he turned his attention back to you, you looked so peaceful and beautiful it made his cock throb and Rafe suppressed a groan as he brushed a stray hair out of your eyes.

His gaze landed on your soft lips, and before he could stop himself, before he even knew what he was doing, really, Rafe leaned down, pressing his lips to yours for the very first time.

Rafe’s hand came to your face, softly stroking your cheek as his lips moved against yours. You tasted like alcoholic punch and cherry lip gloss, and Rafe could feel his hard on straining against the material of his jumpsuit.

He pulled away, head spinning as he mindlessly unzipped the top of his jumpsuit, pushing the fabric off his shoulders before reaching for the zipper on his pants.

All he could think about were all of the frat guys at the party eyeing you like you were a piece of meat they couldn’t wait to sink their teeth into. Like you were some prize to be won.

At the same time, the thought of someone else being your first ignited a blind rage inside of Rafe, one that festered in his brain and mutated into an ugly, twisted desire.

He wasn’t going to let his sweet angel of a step sister get taken advantage of or corrupted by any of the awful guys on the island, kooks or pogues.

If anyone was going to be your first, it was going to be him.

Rafe looked down, surprised when he realized he had been leaning over your sleeping form, pumping his hard cock with his hand.

He stopped himself for a moment, afraid that you might wake up, but you barely stirred, too deep in sleep to register your older step brother leering over you.

The blond took a shaky breath as he reached out towards your hips, his fingers brushing along the soft material of your shorts before finding the waistband and slowly pulling them down your legs.

“Fuck,” he softly groaned as he took in your matching white, lacy panties beneath.

Admittedly, Rafe was no stranger to going through your underwear drawer and stealing a pair of your underwear to jack off into as he fantasized about hate fucking you every time you did something to piss him off.

These were unfamiliar to him. You must have bought them just for halloween, he thought, a new wave of possessive jealousy coursing through him.

Were you seriously thinking about fucking someone tonight? Maybe your friends were never even coming to the party, and it was all a ploy for you to slip away from Rafe and hook up with some asshole.

Rafe’s large hands came to your hips, grabbing your panties and yanking them down your legs. His heart was beating so loudly in his chest he was afraid you might hear it, but he couldn’t stop himself.

He had to know how good you felt, he had to make sure he was your first.

He guided himself to your core, cursing under his breath as he rubbed the tip of his cock along your messy slit. You already felt so wet, he barely had to touch you, and he wondered if there was some part of you that subconsciously knew what was going on, that wanted this to happen.

His hands found the back of your thighs, spreading your legs further apart so he could get closer to you.

When he rubbed his cock against your clit, you squirmed a bit and a soft hum that sounded suspiciously like a moan fell past your lips.

He felt his cock twitch, aching to fill you up, and Rafe finally lined himself up with your slick lips before planting his arms beside your waist and pushing his leaking tip inside of you.

You felt so warm and tight, and the feel of your silky walls squeezing around the head of his cock was better than anything he could have possibly imagined. He slowly began moving, not going any deeper, but just creating a friction that made his jaw clench as he held back groans.

“Shit, Y/N,” he whispered, leaning over to press his feverish lips to yours again, the feeling of your cunt pulling him in making him feel dizzy.

He hadn’t intended to go any further, that’s what he told himself. He thought if he just got a taste, he could be satisfied and he could wait until later to have all of you.

But when his eyes flicked down to where your bodies connected, he was surprised to find half of his length disappearing into you.

You whimpered in your sleep as your walls pulsed around him, distracting him from his moral quandaries. Rafe reached a hand to your chest, cupping one of your tits over your corset as his pace slowly increased.

“God you’re fucking perfect,” Rafe murmured, his lips finding yours again. All the while, he pushed himself deeper and deeper inside you until his tip kissed your cervix.

Far too gone to turn back now, and spurred on by your soft whimpers and gasps, Rafe’s hips were snapping against yours faster now, channeling his frustrations into punishing you for the way you acted tonight.

You wanted to lose your virginity so badly? Fine, Rafe thought, he would take it from you to insure he would be your first and only.

He knew it was wrong, god, it was sick how deeply he needed to ruin you for daring to disobey him. Rafe was well aware that he crossing every boundary in the world, that you would hate that he was robbing you of this experience; but maybe that’s why he was so painfully hard as he rutted into you over and over.

And imagining sitting across from you at the dinner table, knowing that his sweet, innocent sister would have no idea that her older step brother was her first was almost enough to make him cum.

But the thing that really sent him over the edge, what had him spilling himself deep inside you and filling your walls with his hot, sticky cum, was your soft, angelic voice moaning his name in your sleep.

[qqueenofhades]

I understand how important it is to be able to criticize the President, and am not at all of the belief he should be beyond critique, but the critiquing of Biden makes me so nervous. (That's not to say I agree with every decision he's made - I absolutely do not). But I feel like people see things he's done wrong and decide they won't vote for him because of it. I'm not sure if enough people have the ability to see that he's done things wrong but also is our only hope of staving off literal fascism.

So many people talk about how sick they are of it constantly being a lesser of two evils situation, constantly having to vote for a candidate they hate because the other side is worse (I heard it in 2020, 2022, etc), and I guess I just- I don't really get it? We're here because they didn't do that in 2016. All of this could've been avoided had the result been different then. I just feel like people don't comprehend how different of a place we'd be in if Hillary won and engage in all this cognitive dissonance to make themselves feel better about being part of the reason she didn't.

Like.... this has been a long-running topic of discussion on my blog, not least because it is so inexplicable and maddening. It also shows how terribly shallow most people's understanding of the American political process is, and how toxic the "I can only vote for a candidate if every single personal belief/position of theirs matches mine" belief is, as well as how much damage it has done to American democracy even (and indeed, especially) by people who technically don't identify as right-wing. Yell at Republicans all you like (God knows I do, because they're the worst people on earth) but they vote. Every time. Every election. Every candidate. Whereas the Democratic electorate still holds out for Mister Perfect, and it very definitely is Mister Perfect. The amount of "evil HRC!!!" Republican-poisoned Kool-Aid that so-called progressives drank in 2016, and then afterward when they insisted they could have voted for someone like Elizabeth Warren and then didn't do that in 2020, is... baffing.

Frankly, I don't care if Hillary Clinton's personal positions on XYZ issue were the most Neoliberal Corporate Centrist Shill to Ever Shill (and Online Leftists' intellectual skills being what they are, I seriously doubt that they were using any of those words correctly and/or accurately). American policy is not made by "personal dictate of the ruler," or at least it shouldn't be, because we are not an absolute monarchy. We rely on the operation of a system with input from many people. As such, if Hillary had been elected, we would have 2-3 new liberal justices on SCOTUS and have secured civil and environmental rights for the next generation. Roe would be intact, and all the other terrible rulings that SCOTUS has recently handed down wouldn't have happened. We wouldn't have had January 6th, the attempt to stage a coup, all the tawdry scandals, our national security being at risk because of Trump stealing classified documents and probably selling them to Russia and/or Saudi Arabia, etc etc. If you think that's in any way an equivalent amount of evil to what would have happened if Hillary was elected, or if she was "still evil!!!," then I honestly don't know what to tell you. She could fucking murder puppies in her spare time if she had preserved SCOTUS for us, WHICH SHE WOULD HAVE, BECAUSE SHE WARNED US EXACTLY WHAT WAS GOING TO HAPPEN.

(Hoo. Sorry. Still steamed. 2016 war flashbacks, again.)

In short, Hillary would have been a solid continuity Democrat and she would have signed whatever legislation a Democratic House and Senate passed, not to mention been hugely inspiring as the first female president. But because it's so important to the Online Leftists' moral sense of themselves that BOTH PARTIES ARE THE SAME!!!, they can't possibly acknowledge that ever being a factor, and/or admit that they have any culpability in not voting for her in 2016. It's like when you read the British press about any of the UK's equally numerous problems, and they BEND OVER BACKWARD to avoid mentioning that Brexit might be a factor. They just can't mention it, because then that means they might have made the wrong choice in pulling for it as hard as they did, and blah blah Sovereignty.

Basically, if HRC had been elected president, everything would be so much less terrible and terrifying all the time, we would be talking about her successor in 2024 as someone else who could be the "first," we could explore handing the reins over to Kamala as a Black/Asian woman, we could promote Buttigieg as the first gay president, etc etc. But because 2016 was so catastrophically fucked up, we are in damage control mode for the immediate future and every election is just as pivotal. And yet, because people think that the only thing that matters is a presidential candidate's personal views, we're stuck having the same old arguments and desperately begging people over and over to please vote against fascism, since that somehow isn't self-evident enough on its own. Yikes on Bikes.

[elllisaaa]

how ateez would confess to you

-> words count : 3.7k words

-> genre : ateez members crushing on you

-> warnings : just a lot of sweetness

-> sorry if I made any spelling or grammar mistakes, english is not my first language

-> reblogs and feedbacks are appreciated !

-> masterlist | ateez masterlist

KIM HONGJOONG - JEALOUS

he’s the type to be bold. but like REALLY bold. 

like he’s not embarrassed at all to check you out when you ask him if your outfit looks good and say “it looks more than good, don’t worry.” with that damn smirk screaming in my pillow.

he’s also very protective - always has his hand on the small of your back when you’re walking in a crowded place, and always gives you his jacket or sweater if you’re cold or feeling uncomfortable. 

he has an eye on you wherever you two are going to be sure that you’re safe. 

asks you to send him a message so he is sure that you’re home whenever you go out of work, or hang out late without him, or when he can’t walk you home. 

that being said, it’s also a fact that this man is possessive.

have you seen him whenever an atiny mentions liking another group, or going to other concerts than theirs ?

he would be the same with you.

but since you’re not yet a couple, he tries to hide it as well as he can.

but jealousy would be his breaking point. 

seeing you laugh and joke with some trainee of the agency he didn’t even know the name of really made his blood boil. 

his death stare was burning holes in the back of the head of the poor boy you were talking with. 

he would approach both of you, and as if the trainee wasn’t already intimidated by hongjoong presence, he was looking at him like he killed someone lmao.

the trainee was almost shaking when hongjoong dragged you away from him under a ridiculous excuse. 

“- Joong ! Where are we going ?”

He didn’t answer, jaw clenched and his grip on your wrist almost painful as he brought you to his studio. Hongjoong closed the door behind the two of you, just to have the time to think about the way he was going to explain himself. He always succeeded in controlling himself and mostly his jealousy, but today, he didn’t exactly know why, it was too hard seeing you with someone else, laughing like you should be with only him. 

“- Hongjoong ? What’s gotten into you ?”

He took a deep breath. Maybe it was finally the moment to say the truth. It would take a weight out of his shoulder, and he could have an answer to all his questions. Hongjoong turned towards you, a smirk on his lips.

“- You want me to be honest ?”

You simply nobbed, looking at him expectantly, and even if he acted confident, his heart was beating fast. 

“- I didn’t like seeing you laugh with another guy. Well, I didn’t like it every other time it happened. But I think today was just too much to bear for me. Because I love you. I want you to be mine, only mine. I want to be the one who makes you laugh like that, and I want you to be the one who makes me laugh. What do you say ?”

The blush creeping on your cheeks as you listened to his words, and watched his grin widened was really noticeable. But your smile was even more telling to him.

“- I say yes.”

“from now on and forever, I won’t let you go. you’re mine.”

PARK SEONGHWA - SAFE

he is literally the sweetest person ever. 

the type to text you throughout the day to ask if you have eaten and if your answer is no, expect him to be at your door in 5 minutes, drank or took a break. 

so, so caring and always there whenever you need him.

mention that you had a bad day or are a little down ? expect a movie night, your favorite snacks and a lot of cuddles from hwa. 

speaking of that, he sometimes always acts as if he was your boyfriend. 

not that it’s bothering you, on the contrary, but he still claims to everyone that you two are just best friends. 

and that’s confusing because he’s out there holding your hands, putting his arm on your shoulder, cuddling with you. 

to be honest, seonghwa has been trying to make things ambiguous between the two of you lately, in hopes that you would take the hint that he likes you.

like that one time he pushed a strand of your hair behind your ear and you thought that he was about to kiss you.  

so tonight, while he was laying on top of you on your couch, focused on the show playing on the TV, you decided it was time to clarify this situation.

“- Hwa ?”

The man turned his head towards you at the mention of his surname, big doe eyes watching you and waiting for what you wanted to say. You hoped that he couldn’t hear how fast your heart was beating. 

“- Can I ask you a question ?

- Yeah, of course.”

Seonghwa’s smile almost made your hands shake, and you came back to playing with his hair to try and hide it.

“- What are we ?”

It was as if the whole world had stopped spinning for Seonghwa. Was it finally happening ? Was this your way of asking him to be more than friends ? He silently prayed for it, closing his eyes for a second to gather his thoughts, and also to escape your piercing gaze that was making him even more nervous than he already was. 

“- I’m willing to be whatever you want us to be angel.

- And what do you think of… You being mine, and me being yours ?”

Seonghwa giggled quietly, burying his face in the crook of your neck to hide the red tint on his cheeks. His arms, that circled your waist, tightened their grip, not planning on letting you go anytime soon. 

“that’ll be perfect. that’s what i wanted us to be all along.”

JEONG YUNHO - SLEEPY

100% golden retriever energy, you can’t say otherwise i’ll fight.

i don’t know, he just gives this puppy boyfriend vibes, all fluffy and clingy and sweet, he’s just so cute honestly.  

the type to always want to hang out, because his love language his quality time.

will make it a ritual to eat with you at least 2 times a week, weekend hangouts where you either simply go shopping or sometimes he plans activities, and movie nights too. 

so smiley around you his cheeks hurts when he goes home after spending the day with you. 

he gets especially giggly every time you do something a little silly, like when you trip while trying to show him something.

always makes sure you’re alright afterwards though.

to put it in a nutshell, he’s just very cute.

but he finds you even more cute, particularly when you’re all sleepy. 

because then you snuggle up to him, seeking his warmth, and you often fall asleep on him, unaware of how much you make his heart flutter. 

during your usual movie night, you felt tired and rested on his shoulder.

As Yunho heard your breathing become more regular, he assumed that you were asleep. He was always so glad that you felt safe enough around him to be this vulnerable. And mostly, he got to admire your beautiful face without risking you to catch him. He didn’t know why but tonight, he felt on the verge of telling you. And after all, you were asleep, you couldn’t hear him. He already said it to you a few times like that, what could go wrong ?

“- You’re breathtaking Y/N, really… I love you.”

As Yunho was ready to cover you with a blanket to keep you even more warm, your voice stopped him in his tracks.

“- Can you say it again ? I’m not sure I understood.”

His panicked eyes turned to your fully awake ones, looking at him with a mischievous glint. The poor boy gulped loudly, not knowing if he was going to be in trouble or if you were just messing with him, as you always did. 

“- I-I love you, I really do. I just… It was easier telling you when you couldn’t reject me.”

A shy chuckle escaped him as he averted your gaze, missing the smile eating your whole face at his confession. 

“- Look at me, big baby.”

And when he eventually did, you finally answered his silent interrogation.

“- I love you too, so much.”

Yunho engulfed you in the biggest hug, already taking advantage of your new relationship.

“I can’t wait to spend every day and every night by your side.”

KANG YEOSANG - PERFECT

he’s not very talkative, in the sense that he’s not always making remarks about what you tell him.

but don’t worry, he got it all written in his head. 

it could be the most useless detail about a story that happened to you years ago, and he still will remember it.

because you’re too precious to him to forget anything about you he’s so boyfriend material.

the type to take notice of what you like to eat.

say that you love a certain type of food one time, and you’ll get it every now and then. 

he remembers your coffee order from day one.

also a really good listener and give the best advice. 

that being said, he’s the type to notice if you looked at something with envy in a shop, or said that you wanted this or that.

and bets that he’ll confess with a little gift that he bought for you.

maybe that’ll be a waste of money if you say no, but he doesn’t care, you’re worth it.

so he’ll buy this necklace you’ve been talking about for weeks, and come to you one day, almost out of the blue to offer it to you.

“- You shouldn’t have, really. That’s too much.

- It’s never too much when it comes to you.”

You were blushing like crazy, as much as from his words and how his fingers brushed against your skin as Yeosang attached the necklace for you. His eyes reflected nothing but love and adoration when he looked at you. 

“- You’re beautiful, it suits you perfectly.

- Thank you so much Sangie ! But what is this for ? It’s not my birthday or anything special…”

Yeosang lowered his head for several seconds before mustering the courage to let the words finally spill from his mouth. They were coming out so naturally that it seemed like you were truly made for one another.

“- I wanted to give you this just because you loved it, but also to remind you how much I love you. And I don’t mean it in a friendly way. I like you. And I hope, if you return my feelings, that this necklace is gonna remind you of that everyday.”

Your smile was enough of an answer for him, but you took a step forward, putting your hand on Yeosang’s cheek and making his heart beat faster. 

“- I’ll wear it everyday from now on. I must find something for you to wear and remember how much I love you too.”

“let’s get matching ones then, that’ll make us soulmates.”

CHOI SAN - FORCED

now this boy is the most obvious when it comes to crushes.

like all the members could tell that he was down bad for you since the first day.

but you didn’t seem to notice.

however, it was indeed very clear since he looked at you as if you put all the stars in the sky. 

really, i don’t understand how you didn’t notice.

beside the fact that he’s literally a simp for you, he’s also been your best friend for several years now, and he knows you like the back of his hand except your undying love for him.

he had always been by your side : when you were sad or happy, when you had your first crush and even when you got drunk for the first time. 

the members having obviously noticed how san was struggling to tell you how he felt, they tried to help him multiple times.

to be honest, this was not really efficient but at least they tried. 

the latest attempt was at this little party they planned at the dorms, and of course you were invited.

at one point, everyone gathered to play truth or dare, and of course, it was a trick to get you two to confess to each other not very slick, yeah.

“- So San, truth or dare ?

- Truth, I have nothing to hide.”

His confident smile made you chuckle, knowing all his embarrassing secrets and also knowing how much he, in fact, had to hide. 

“- Well, then tell us who your crush is.”

The smirk on Yunho’s face made a deep contrast with the defeated one on San face. You felt your own smile flatter as you tried not to look at your best friend. You knew this day would come. Of course San wouldn’t stay with you until your old days. Of course he would find a better partner. You were only his best friend, not his lover. 

“- I… Uh-

- I thought you had nothing to hide, Sannie.”

The group laughed collectively at Wooyoung's remark, except you and San. You were almost ready to stand up and leave when your best friend turned to you.

“- Y/N… I really love you.”

Your eyes widened as San ran away immediately. Around you, the members were all whistling and making weird noises. But you didn’t hear them. You only heard San’s words again and again. Quickly after, you followed him to the kitchen. He had to know how much you loved him too. When you found him, he had his head pressed on the fridge, eyes closed and probably overthinking everything he had ever said and done.

“- San…”

He turned to you quickly, worry filling up his gaze.

“- Listen Y/N, I’m really sorry ! I shouldn't have said that in front of everyone, I should’ve kept it for a moment just between us, or never tell you at all in fact. I apologize for making you feel uncomfortable and I’m- 

- San, stop.”

You took a step toward him, your smile eating your face. 

“- We’ve known each other for years, you’ll never make me uncomfortable. Stop thinking too much, okay ? ‘Cause I love you too, since I don’t even remember when because you’re the most important person in my life.”

No answer came except his lips on yours, and his hand on your waist, pulling you against his body.

“i’ve always known that one day we’ll be together, and that one day i’ll marry you. but let’s keep that for later.”

SONG MINGI - DRUNK

the boy is a stuttering and nervous mess around you.

blushing everytime you smile at him, but denying it if you ever mention it before blushing even more, he’s so cute.

besides the fact he’s so impressed by your charisma and presence, he’s very funny around you.

the type to make the dumbest jokes and put himself in ridiculous situations if that makes you laugh.

because your smile and laugh are the most beautiful things he had ever seen and heard.

it’s so funny to see a big guy like him being so amazed by just one person, you find that really endearing. 

but that also means that he’s not brave at all. 

like, if he ever tried to just muster up the courage to tell you that he has the biggest crush on you, he would chicken out as soon as he saw you.

and I think that to be able to confess, he would have to take a little liquid courage yes, that means getting drunk.

one night, the boys were celebrating the release of their new comeback with some drinks and mingi asked you to come with them.

and of course, he’ll end up drinking too much, hoping that he would either stop thinking about you or finally telling you how he felt. 

“- Y/N !”

Mingi’s scream made you jolt in place and turn around quickly, smiling when you saw him trying to walk straight in your direction, with his rosy cheeks and glossy eyes. He was cute, really cute. But you didn’t expect him to literally throw himself in your arms. You caught him as best as you could, shivering as his breath tickled your neck.

“- Are you alright Mingi ?”

He nodded his head, trying to steady himself and standing straight on his feet again. You looked up at him, preparing yourself to decode his slurred words. 

“- Yeah… Yes, I’m alright but I wanted to say something to you… I really, really like you… I mean, like you, not like a friend, I want you to be my lover… Because I love you.”

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, and Mingi’s heart skipped a beat. His brain was all mushy just from seeing your gaze focused on him and only him, and alcohol wasn’t helping at all in controlling the blush on his cheeks.

“- I like you too Mingi, and I would like to be your lover too. But we’ll talk about this when you’re sober, okay ?”

________________________________________

“- I really said that ?”

You chuckled lightly, caressing his cheeks softly, diving in his mesmerizing, hypnotizing eyes.

“- Yeah, you did. But to be honest, it was very cute. You’re very cute anyway. So, would you like to be my lover Mingi ?”

The boy in question pecked your lips, smiling too.

“that’s not even a question princess. i’ll be by your side as long as you’ll let me stay.”

JUNG WOOYOUNG - IMPULSIVE

i see him as someone very spontaneous.

if he passes by a restaurant he likes, no matter what hour it is or what he has to do, he’ll stop and eat. 

if he likes someone, he’s gonna tell them. 

that’s what you love about him, and that’s also probably how you met.

he was certainly doing something stupid, as always, and ran into you, making you fall on the floor. 

and boom ! you were best friends forever.

he didn’t stop doing ridiculous things, on the contrary since he noticed that you’re in the same mood as him and that it’s making you laugh, he’ll be doing it even more. 

but the thing is that wooyoung wants way more than being friends since the first day.

but now that he’s got you in his life, he’s a little (very) afraid of losing you. 

so he’s gonna try and hide his feelings as best as he can. 

but when he passed by this flower shop, and saw your favourite ones standing outside, he couldn’t help thinking of you.

and that’s how he ended up at your door, with the flowers, trying to calm himself down.

“- Woo ? What are you doing here ?

- I.. Uh… These are for you !”

He handed you the flowers, feeling a blush creeping on his cheeks as you took them hesitatingly. Wooyoung never felt so nervous in his life. Even before his first concert, even before his first fanmeeting. Even with all the stressful events he had experienced being an idol, he never got so anxious. 

“- Thank you, I guess ? What are these for ? It’s not my birthday, nor anything special I think.”

You chuckled at your own words, leaving Wooyoung asking himself why he did that.

“- Don’t get me wrong ! I like them, they’re beautiful and I’m surprised you even remembered what my favourite flowers were ! But why ? I don’t understand…”

He thought about letting out all the words he kept for himself for weeks, but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. So instead, he leaned in to kiss you. It was not even a peck : he kissed you passionately, like it was the last thing he got to do before dying. You let the flowers fall to the floor, dropping them without any regrets when you tug at Wooyoung’s hair, deepening your kiss. And his smile when you backed out for air told you everything you needed to know. 

“i’ll buy you flowers everyday if it means i get to kiss you like this.”

CHOI JONGHO - TEXT

first thing first, this man’s smile could kill you and me, he’s so cute that’s got to be illegal.

the type to value your friendship so much, to the point he prefers to just be your friend than ever risking your relationship if he’s not 100% certain that your feelings are mutual.

his crush developed slowly, falling for you little by little and growing fond of you much more as time passed.

the members noticed how much he liked you when they saw that jongho lets you sleep on his shoulder whenever you are tired.

or when he willingly hugs you every time you need it.

he doesn’t like physical contact but with you, it’s natural and he sincerely appreciates it.

so careful when it comes to his feelings, because he doesn’t want to lose you or upset you.

that’s why i think he would confess through very, very long messages he’ll send late at night.

probably threw his phone away as soon as he did it, not wanting to see your response. 

but that’s also why he did it : to let you choose if you wanted to respond or just ignore what he just told you. 

so when you called the next day, he panicked.

“- Hi Jongho ! 

- H-Hi Y/N.”

At least, your tone seemed as cheerful as usually, and not upset or disappointed.

“- I must admit I was really surprised when I saw your texts when I woke up this morning. I was not expecting that at all.

- And… Is it in a bad or a good way ?”

Jongho didn’t want to pressure you, but he needed to know how you felt, needed to know if he should smile or bury himself six feet under. 

“- In a good way, don’t worry.”

You clearly heard his sigh of relief, which made you both chuckle at the other end of the phone. And both of you had the biggest smile on your faces.

“- I’ll need at least two hours to even come close to a good answer and I don’t have the time right now. So just listen to that : I like you too, so much you can’t imagine. But if you’re willing to listen to my boring ramble for hours…”

“i love listening to you, I’ll never get tired of it..”

-> i don't allow any copies, reposts or translations of my works.

[taro-pdf]

Humans are Deathworlders, but they can be Friends, too.

Context: the main alien is Feja, xe/xer, an adult 4th gender tuscia (bipedal beings that communicate mainly through frequencies higher than humans do. Theyhave 5 sexes and 5 main societal gender roles)

Feja didn’t get along well with xer crewmates. It was always hard to communicate cross-species, and even harder when most of them were humans and couldn’t hear you. That’s why, when they stopped to pick up a group of even more humans in the Acrux solar system, Feja wasn’t exactly excited.

The humans’ voices were low, loud, rumbles in as they boarded, speaking of things Feja didn’t know about and couldn’t share. But xe had to do xer job, which involved initiating a small group of new humans who would share the same sort of tasks as xer. Not that xe wanted to share tasks with beings who drank poison for fun and kept predators as pets, but xer job was xer job.

“Hello, welcome to the Yenna,” xe paused, allowing a few seconds for the translator to work. It was always so awkward to wait. And sometimes older translators wouldn’t pick up xer voice correctly at all. “My name is Feja, xe/xer, tuscia, and I will be orienting you to your roles and responsibilities. You should have already received a brief. If you have any questions about that, please let me know.”

One of the humans’ mouths let out a few rumbles, followed by Feja’s translator repeating their words to xer, “Are their Uni-10 translators provided? I missed some of what you said.” 

Feja smiled and the human’s eyebrows scrunched. From previous experience, xe knew that it was confused, probably not used to tuscia body language. Feja let out a small hiss, but replied, “We don’t provide translators, but if communication is an issue, I can transfer you to a different group.” 

A pause, a low rumble, and then, “I think that’d be best. Thanks for being flexible!” 

The other humans in Feja’s group had better translators, and xe was able to finish xer initiation protocol with few issues. Slightly exhausted, xe started to walk back to xer room. Why did xe ever sign up for this? Why didn’t xe apply to somewhere where beings could actually converse with xer without a translator? And why, oh why did xe have to work with so many deathworlders?

Turning into a narrow corridor, Feja saw a human, looking at a number on their watch, then the signs next to each door, apparently trying to find a match. Their long white hair was plaited and reached their waist, and they were wearing a blue tunic that contrasted with their tan skin. It was too narrow to slip past, so Feja clacked xer mouth—a sound that xe knew humans could hear—but the human didn’t turn. Instead, they tried to open another door that also didn’t open, evidently not theirs . Feja clacked louder, to no response. As the human tried the next door, xe got rudely close and clacked once more. The human jumped, then turned and waved. Lucky not angrily— humans could take Feja down in a second. They looked down to their watch and started typing something.

Hey! I’m Kell, they/them, human, and new on board the Yenna, but not a traveler. The text was transmitted directly to Feja’s watch, and xe was surprised to see it was in universal language, not a human one that would have needed further translation. I’ve been hired as a tech assistant, so I should get my own room, but my initiation guide didn’t tell me where it was, and I’m having trouble with these numbers. Does the ship use a different language?

Not an uncommon problem for those first on board. Why didn’t their initiator tell them that?

“Most written text on the signs is in the captain’s birth tongue,” Feja explained. Kell tapped their glasses and captions scrolled across their screen as they looked at xer. “It’s Suav, and probably not in your translator’s database. You can add it, or you could use Anglu, which is close enough that it picks up most things.”

Kell nodded and switched their watch to Anglu, then translated a plaque on the wall. Seeing the results, they hit their forehead with their fist, thumb out. Feja startled, neck ruff raised.

“Are you alright?” Xe asked, cocking xer head. Even with how durable humans were, most of them didn’t hit themselves. Faja’s words scrolled across Kell’s glasses, then they laughed. 

I’m fine. That was sign language; I was calling myself stupid because I’m about 100 doors and a floor away. They looked up and chuckled.

“Sign language? Like the Ruq’?”

Yeah, though the Ruq’ never evolved ears. Mine just don’t work, I’m what humans call Deaf. I grew up with signs.

“So you sign to your fellow humans?”

Ha! Kell raised a lip—a sign of a negative emotion, though Faja wasn’t sure which one. I wish. I’ve only met a few who know any, and then usually not the same one I use. I text to talk to most beings. That’s why I’m in tech and not navigation.

“But you use the Universal Interplanetary Language, not Human, and that’s quite a feat of learning. Surely you had a choice in your occupation, especially considering how you’re a human…” Feja shifted on xer feet. The human-other ratio on board Yenna was unusually high, but that was because they specialized in human transport. Humans easily got jobs as medics, security, or anything else, especially as almost every intergalaxy ship had at least one. But most beings didn’t want to so much as be near the same fleet with so many of such a volatile species. Humans were known for their adaptability, cunning, and ferocity after all. 

When you can’t communicate with most people, you have to do what makes it easiest, and for me that was making sure to limit translation times as much as possible. 

Feja winced at xer own thoughts of Kell’s possible violent nature. Xe looked down at xer messages, a wall of one-way texts, and winced again. Xe typed back, that’s my reason for learning UPL, too. Receiving the text, Kell’s eyes widened. 

You stopped speaking? My translator can write your words out for me.

Feja smiled. It didn’t seem fair. We can keep a record of what I say, too.

 Thanks. Kell blinked and shook their head. That’s not something I even thought of.

I know what it’s like when it’s more work to communicate. The humans tend to avoid me. Faja recalled the human who requested a new group earlier that day.

Me too. Kell had a look on their face that Feja felt often. 

I’ll walk you to your room. I can read Suav numbers, at least. What’s yours?

Kell brightened and checked their brief. It should be 470. 

Alright, that’d be down this hallway. It’s a relief, Faja thought, that they aren’t pushing me away.

A few steps later, Faja’s watch buzzed. Xe looked down.

Hey Faja, how many languages do you know? Kell looked at them and Faja stared. Human’s colors were usually so dull, but xer eyes were drawn to the vibrant green of Kell’s, a color rarely seen in space. Shaking xer head to focus, xe counted the languages xe knew.

Three fluently, five partially. They’re fun to learn, though it doesn’t mean much when no one on board can hear me.

Kell thought for a second, started typing, paused, then sent their message. They peered at xer from behind their hair.

Language isn’t always about hearing. Have you thought about learning sign language?

It was Faja’s turn to pause. Kell fidgeted with a button on their watch. This human was making an effort to bond… with xer. Even though xe was a different species, and even though xe couldn’t offer any career advancement or connections. Xe closed xer eyes and inhaled. Maybe, just maybe, xe would make their first friend on board. It really wasn’t a question, then, was it? This deathworlder wasn’t so bad.

Xe typed xer reply: 

I’d love too.

---

Based on a post by @bunnyycat, this is the edited version post-a-good-nights-sleep. Image description in alt.

[littlemissdulce]

I don’t exactly have a title ready for this but I wanted to post my very first chapter so I hope you enjoy. Feedback would very much be appreciated

Tw: (never done one of these so here goes) teen pregnancy, allusion to sex but no actual details, allusions to non-con but no actual details, mild violence, mentions of miscarriage (I think that’s everything let me know if I missed something)

Chapter 1

You remember when life wasn’t so complicated. Days spent learning to read and write, to mend clothes, to clean and cook. While other children got to play outside, you spent your time studying mother’s medical journals, taking notes, following her around and assisting her as she tended to patients.

She taught you about plants. How to tell them apart, which ones could be made into medicines and which ones could be made into poisons. How both could be used to alleviate or aggravate illness and injury alike.

Mother was the only female apothecary in the town you grew up in. Many preferred her knowledge and discretion as opposed to doctors who would charge a small fortune for their services. Her patients ranged from villagers, courtesans, lords and ladies, she even paid a visit to the home of Duke Leto Atreides once. You suppose that was how you were able to get the job you have now.

You were the maid to the Duke’s son, Paul Atreides. At the age of twelve your job as his maid was to tend to the young lord’s needs. Your duties included cooking his meals whenever he did not dine with his parents, cleaning his room and study, minding his health and reporting anything that seemed out of the ordinary to his mother, Lady Jessica.

It was strange to refer to him as young lord considering you were both the same age. But that also might have been what made it possible for both of you to get close and even become friends. Two lonely children who only had one another to confide in. It made sense how you came to be in your current state.

Having worked for Paul for three years it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that your friendship would progress. After all, both he and you noticed how your respective bodies began to change. Curiosity is a dangerous thing, and now you were left to deal with the consequences of your actions.

It had occurred after his father’s birthday celebration, Paul had managed to sneak a bottle of wine into his room and offered to share it with you. Though you initially tried to refuse, you gave in after he begged you to not let him drink alone. You should have known that Caladan wine was strong, but you never could have guessed it would lead to this.

Two months late on your cycle, walking with a heavy heart to Lady Jessica’s chambers. Cradling your stomach, already feeling protective of the life growing inside you.

Standing outside her door, you waited for her to allow you to come in. She had to have known why you were there. After all, that morning you could have very well lost your child had you simply drunk the tea that was prepared for you. You drank tea every morning, but on that day you recognized the smell of this specific tea as it was one your mother taught the courtesans to make to prevent pregnancy or induce a miscarriage. No, nothing happened in the castle without her knowledge.

“Come in (Y/N), take a seat. Have some tea.” She said as she poured you both a cup.

So you complied. Sitting down, hesitating to even touch the cup before you. Afraid that it too was meant to harm your child.

“This tea is safe.” She said drinking from her own cup and confirming your suspicions that she had been the one who sent the previous cup of tea. Tentatively you lifted the cup to your lips, took a small sip and quickly set it back down. After a moment of silence she spoke again. “Have you told Paul about your… predicament?”

“…No my lady.” you replied, with your head bowed afraid to meet her eyes.

“Have you spoken to anyone about… this?” She asked again while motioning to your abdomen.

“…no.” You replied with a quieter voice. Scared of what could happen if you offended her any more than you already had. Shaking, you lifted the cup back to your lip hoping that as long as you drank your tea the conversation would not progress.After a long pause she waited for you to finish your tea before she continued.

“Good.” Was her only reply.

Suddenly you felt a wave of fatigue wash over you, dropping your cup when you tried to stand to run away only to fall to the floor and hurting your right arm. The last thing you remembered was guards dragging you away as the world went dark.

When you next woke up you noticed you were laying in a cage in a dark and cold room.Shackles binding your hands and feet. Hearing voices approaching, you pretended to still be asleep.

“I can’t believe I was able to find such a fine specimen.” Stated the first voice, a man by the sound of it

“Lady Jessica’s instructions were quite clear my lord. We are to dispose of the girl and make sure her child is never found.” Replied the second voice, this one sounding meeker by comparison.

“Yes I know John I’m not an idiot!” The first voice exclaimed “ She didn’t say I couldn’t play with her.I won’t hurt her…much. At least until the child is born then I’ll dispose of her however I please.” This made your blood run cold. Immediately a timer was set for your death and if your calculations were correct you only had seven months left until your execution.

“My Lord Lorne, I would never think that of you. I simply worry for the ramifications if we do not follow Lady Jessica’s wishes. You are already in a precarious situation with the Baron Harkonnen.” John spoke, fear evident in his voice at the mere mention of the Baron.

Lord Lorne scoffed “That fat headed pig doesn’t know anything! And unless you want to loose your head it better stay that way, now unchain the girl and have her brought to my room, I wish to test out my new toy.”

You could hear as the man named John called to have guards carry you while he undid your chains but before they could get to you a new voice appeared.

“That fat headed pig knows about everything Lorne, he knows you’ve been stealing spice and selling it behind his back”

“Na-Baron p-please this is all a misunderstanding,” Lorne bumbled out. “I can explain please give me a chance to explain.”

Opening your eyes, your gaze landed on the owner of who you presumed to be the third voice. He was tall, with pale white skin and light blue eyes. He had no hair but even then you almost thought he might look beautiful. Except you knew the reputation of the one they called Na-Baron Feyd Rautha, every child on Caladan was told of the monsters the Harkonnen were especially him.

The Na-Baron’s eyes zeroed in on you and you instantly felt like you couldn’t move or even breathe. It felt as though he was studying you taking you apart piece by piece and you could do nothing to stop him.

Lorne noticing your awareness and how you had caught the Na-Barons eye chose that moment to speak. “Please if you spare me you can have the girl she’s quite beautiful and I’m sure she can be usefu-” Lorne’s rambling was cut off by the dagger that had slit his throat. Try as he might to apply pressure to his wound all he did was smear the blood that was running down his neck. He fell to the ground dead in seconds.

The Na-Baron turned to his men. “Leave no survivors” he ordered. You watched in horror as three of his men advanced on you and John. One quickly dispatched of John, braking his neck and letting him crumble to the floor while the other two stalked towards you. Fear paralyzed you, how were you going to get yourself and your child out of this, how were you going to protect your baby if you would soon be dead. One of the men was already wrapping his hands around your throat as you were looking around and spotted a short blade at his waist. Tears welled up in your eyes as a wave of calm and fury took you over.

In a split second decision, fueled by adrenaline, a you dove for the knife and used it to slice the man’s carotid artery, using the black blood spilling from his neck you slipped out of his hold and used your momentum to stab the other guard in his femoral artery. Both Harkonnen soldiers bleed out in minutes. Standing there with a dagger in your hand against so many Harkonnen, you could feel the adrenaline wearing off and the effects of the tea still in your body making you tired. As more soldiers advanced towards you you heard the Na-Baron’s voice.

“Capture her but do not harm her. I need a new toy.”

With the fear of imminent death evaded a new fear unlocked itself. The fear of what the Na-Baron wanted from you, to do to you. Slipping back into unconsciousness you fell expecting to hit the ground, but were surprised when you felt arms around you instead. In your last second of awareness you saw he face of the man who wanted to take you alive.

When you next awoke you were on a soft bed, in clean clothes, having been cleaned yourself while you were asleep. The room you were in looked too luxurious for you to be in. Your gown, white, thin and made of silk, hugged you body and accentuated your breasts leaving little to the imagination. Your uneasiness started rising as you saw a small table full of food near one of the corners of the room. Slowly approaching the table you decided to eat an apple that did not look tampered with. While eating it you decided to slowly walk around the room, discovering a bathroom attached to the room and a door that would not open. The closet was full of revealing dresses you could never hope to wear, all either black or white. As you continued exploring you failed to notice the previously locked door opening and someone walking through.

“Whose is it?”

The voice startled you. Making you turn around to face the Na-Baron. “Whose’s what my lord?” You tried to feign ignorance hoping against all odds he would believe you.

“Maybe if I cut the thing out you’ll give me an answer?” He grinned as he took slow steps towards you while holding a knife. “I had the coctors examine you when you came in and they told m some interesting news. Now I am not a man who normally gives second chances so I’ll ask again whose is that thing growing in your womb?”

Too scared to risk lying again you answered truthfully. “The baby’s father is Paul Atreides my lord.” That response stopped the Na-Baron in his tracks, his grin changing into maniacal laughter. This scared you so you spoke again.

“Please my lord I’ll do anything you want just…don’t hurt my child.” You begged on your hands and knees. Had bowed afraid of what his response might be. He stopped laughing and grabbed you by your hair retching your head back, causing you to sit up as your hands went to you belly to protect a baby that was nearly the size of a kidney bean.

“Anything?” He questioned. So close to your face you could smell his rotting breath.

“…yes” you answered shakily. He let your hair go causing you to fall forward, throwing your hands to catch yourself before you could meet the stone cold floor. Sitting oh the bed he spoke again.

“Be mine”

“What does being yours mean my lord?”you questioned looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

“I’ll claim that bastard as my own, providing and protecting you and it from anyone who would do you harm. In return you’ll do what ask when I ask, never deny me, and you will be loyal to me. Do you understand?”

“…yes my lord” you whispered.Left with no other option but to agree to his demands.

Satisfied with your response he began getting into the same bed you had just been in. “It’s getting late and a mother needs a lot of rest, get in.”

Hesitantly you got up from the floor and slowly made your way to the bed. As you got under the covers you felt him wrap his arm around your waist and pulling you towards him. The lights dimmed and before you could fall asleep from the days stressful events you heard him whisper in your ear.

“When we are alone you will call me Feyd.” He ordered hand tightening around your waist waiting for your response.

“yes Feyd.”

[swiftsdelucaa]

Would you please do a Mark Sloan x Grey!reader who is Meredith’s twin sister? When he first goes to Grey Sloan he is determined to get with her.

❛ 𝑨𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒚𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒚 𝒄𝒖𝒕𝒆 ❜

𝙋𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Mark Sloan x Grey!sis!reader ♡

𝘼/𝙣: Hoping you'll like it anon!

You had just left the locker room to finally go home, you were just waiting for Meredith. As you scrolled through the messages on your phone you sensed someone else's presence, and as soon as you looked up you found yourself in front of Mark Sloan. Well, that wasn't new, he was always wherever you were, he never left you alone for a moment. He flirted with you whenever he could, almost embarrassed you, but you got used to it by now.

"Hey, can I bring you home?" he approached with his usual smirk on his face.

"No thanks, I'm waiting for Mer" you went back to checking your messages.

"And if I bring in a restaurant?" when he wants he gets so stubborn.

"I'm not really hungry"

"Then... a little walk?" you sighed smiling. In fact, if he would have continued like this you would have given in.

But why not, I mean he's hot, and je's also an excellent company...

"Hey, come on" Meredith came out of the locker room. Just in time.

"Bye doctor Sloan" you greeted him taking Meredith by the arm to drag her away from there before she wasted any more time with Cristina.

"Finally" you sighed rolling your eyes.

"How's it going with your...?"

"Shut up, he's my nothing" you shut her up as you walked towards the car. She looked so amused selling you like that.

"You know, he used to flirt with me too" Meredith said as you got into the car.

"Really? And...?"

"Well, I think I'd have accepted if Derek hadn't punched him straight in the face before he even finished to talking with me" she laughed at the memory. You laughed with her.

"When did all this happen?" you asked curiously.

"It was before you came here, you should have been there"

"Oh yes. But maybe it's been better like this, cause now you and Derek are good together" you said thinking about it.

"Yeah, maybe... so you can have him all for you"

"Shut up!" oh you know she'll annoy you for a long time.

Before she could start to say any more you turned on the radio hoping to find a decent song, then stared out the window for a while.

"Hey" you got Meredith's attention.

"What?"

"Why did Derek punch him?" you asked confused since you were aware that those two were best friends.

"Well... he slept with his wife, Addison..."

"Wait, what?? Why didn't I know it?!"

"It's happened a long time ago, nobody talks about it anymore" your sister said. You would never have imagined this.

Well, you knew that making mistakes was human, things had now been resolved, but he had always remained the same that he knew what he wanted.

Without even realizing it, you had already arrived home, you got out of the car and as soon as you entered, you both threw yourself on the sofa, exhausted.

The next morning you arrived at the hospital together, and as soon as you had got ready and divided, punctually like every morning, you were greeted by Mark who brought you a coffee.

"Good morning Y/n"

"Good morning" you just took the coffee and drank it right away. It was all you needed.

"You know, you're prettier with loose hair" the fact that he noticed it caused you a little smile, usually you always kept them tied in a ponytail, you hated them.

"Thank you" he said goodbye one last time before leaving to go to a patient.

"Doctor Sloan!" he spun around as soon as he heard your voice calling him.

"Yeah?" he came back to you.

"I, ok, well, you... you're a very good perdon..." his attention increased. "And you're also really handsome, but... I don't know if-"

"No no no, don't finish that phrase, please" you stopped to listen to him, you had no other choice. "You can't say that you don't know if it con work if we didn't even tried. You're beautiful, you're smart, and I really like you, I exactly know what I want, and I won't stop. So if you'll say yes I'll do everything to make you happy and make it work" those words made you feel a weird sensation... he had managed to hit you. No one had ever told you these things. Now you didn't even know what to answer.

"Then Y/n... can I bring you out this time, please?" you laughed at the way he asked you.

"I'd love to" you smiled at him as your gazes met for a moment, until his pager rang.

"See you later baby"

"I can't wait" you watched him walk away.

A pleasant date with a man completely crazy about you awaited you tonight.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter Five

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,054

I messed up. Big time. 

We went to Denali to have a break, enjoy ourselves. Taste a different kind of animal blood. However, I messed up. 

I drank human blood. I was out hunting, and someone was off the usual hiking trail, they were hurt. And I wasn't strong enough. I killed them, and tasted human blood, it had been 50 years since I had tried human blood. 

It took Emmett, Jasper and Edward to hold me down and drag me back to Tanya's house. I left for home the next day. I hated myself, big time.  I looked like a monster. My eyes were red, they haven't been red in so long. 

I haven't faced Paul yet, it had been a month since I had last seen him. And I've been avoided him. Big time. 

My family, despite all the jokes and caring words, I could tell they were disappointed. Except maybe Jasper. I think he is kind of happy it wasn't him who slipped up. On a good note, I had caught up on my reading list. 

I sighed putting my book down and going downstairs, it was Bella's birthday today and Alice was throwing a party once they had finished school.

Carlisle and Esme smiled and at me and handed me a white cup with a straw, I grimaced, and took a sip. Mountain lion blood, gross. I finished the cup quick though, it made my throat burn, and I felt like I was going to throw the blood up. 

"How are you feeling today Y/N?" Rosalie asked, I smiled and shrugged. 

"Will you be staying for Bella's party?" Esme asked.

"I'm not sure" I answered, I haven't seen a human since the incident.

"I think you should, It would be good for you" Carlisle said, I nodded. Okay, guess I was going. I hadn't even got Bella a present. 

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

"Happy Birthday Bella" Esme smiled, hugging Bella. She looked so uncomfortable, I felt the same. Her blood was making my nose burn. 

Alice added my name to the present from Rosalie and Emmett, which was nice. I wasn't exactly able to go to the shops. Bella avoided me more, which was nice of her I guess. I suppose my eyes were a bit scary at the moment. 

Bella opened her presents, I smelted it before she said it, a paper cut. I could smell her blood trickling out of her finger. I felt Rosalie holding my arm so I couldn't move, however everyone was focused on me attacking. Jasper rushed forward, his fangs bearing. 

Edward stupidly pushed Bella back onto the glass cabinet, which cut more of her body, meaning more blood. 

"Rose, I can't" I whisper. She nodded, grabbing my arm and yanking me backwards, away from the drama. Emmett, Edward and Carlisle were trying to wrestle Jasper to the ground. 

Rosalie took my out of the room, and dragged me out of the house. 

I was in the woods now, I could only just smell Bella's blood. 

"You're okay" Rose said, her hands still on my arms. 

Everyone but Carlisle and Bella joined us outside. Jasper looked so broken. 

"At least we didn't eat her" I joked, no one laughed. 

-----------

After Edward took Bella home, we had a family meeting. 

"It's time to leave again" Carlisle frowned. "Y/N, you may want to tell Paul"

I sighed. 

"That's if he wants to speak to me" 

"You're his imprint" 

I cut Esme off form speaking. 

"I'm also a vampire, and I killed someone, how could he ever forgive me" I sighed.

"You have to speak to him to find out" Alice smiled. 

I nodded, agreeing. I got ready and put one some sunglasses. 

I left the house and ran to the treaty line, taking a deep breath I stepped over, and walked towards Sam's house. I wasn't sure where else he would be. And I wasn't about to search the whole beach. It was also slightly sunny today, so I didn't need to been seen sparkling by humans. 

I reached Sam and Emily's house and knocked the door. I'm sure they already knew I was here. I knew Paul was here too, I could smell his blood. 

Paul opened the door and smiled. 

"Where have you been?" He asked, taking a deep breath and hugging me. It felt so nice, to be hugged this tightly. 

"I missed you, come meet everyone?" He said, pulling away. 

"I shouldn't" I whisper. "I need to tal-"

But Paul caught me off by kissing me. 

"Dude, kissing a vampire?" A boy yelled from behind. Paul pulled away and laughed. He grabbed my hand and pulled me inside. Suddenly I felt really uncomfortable. 

"Guys, this is Y/N" He smiled, I already knew Sam and Emily, but there was another boy here too. 

"This is Jared" Paul smiled, he hadn't taken his hand away from mine. 

"Why are you still wearing these" He chuckled, and grabbed my sunglasses before I could stop him. Fuck. 

Paul's hand wasn't on mine anymore. He wasn't anywhere near me anymore. 

"Why are your eyes red?" Paul hissed. Looking at me with anger. I could feel how angry he felt, he was sickened by me. 

"Paul, my family and I are leaving" I whispered, looking down. 

"Good" 

I looked up, shocked. It was like whiplash. Feeling his love, and then all of the sudden feeling this hatred. 

"I just wanted to say goodbye to you" I say, stepping forward. He stepped further away from me. 

"Just leave, you're not welcome here, leech" Paul spat. I nodded, feeling hurt and a pain in my chest.

I left and ran home, I was a little scared they would wolf out and kill me. I got home, and packed my things, and packed a few books, and loaded my car up. 

"I'll catch up to wherever you go" I smile sadly to Carlisle. I hugged them all and left. I got into my car and started driving. 

Not sure where I'm going to go, maybe a different country, I'm not too sure yet. 

It hurt, I could feel the distance between me and Paul. It was weird feeling things in my heart after so long of nothing. 

I'd have to learn to get over it, I'm sure Paul was going to try too. 

Previous Part - Next Part

[love-lilly02]

The Challenge part 2

Honestly, you forgot entirely about the challenge the next morning.

Rolling out of bed with a pounding headache, you showered quickly and tried your damdest to recover from the hangover with copious amounts of coffee. Training today would be absolute hell.

"Oi, bonnie!"

Nevermind, it seemed you couldn't even make it to training without encountering problems.

Soap bounded into the rec room, looking far too happy for a man who had drank his weight in beer only hours beforehand. Somehow even his footsteps were loud, not to mention his voice.

"Interesting night, eh?" He called, sliding up next to you where you had- rather ungraciously- flopped onto a couch. "Ooch, seems like someone cant handle their drinks well. Need your old boy to help, maybe give you a massage-"

"Stop sucking up," Gaz called, walking into the room. He too seemed fairly put together, although how they were managing this act was astounding to you. "Coddling her wont make this any easier." He took a seat on the couch across from where you and soap were sitting, studying you carefully.

"Ugh, 'ave a little fun eh?" Soap laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders. "The boys 'n I were talkin' last night, agreed we should set some rules up. Make this a bit easier, hm?"

You just stared at the two of them like they were idioits.

"I'm sorry- what are we talking about?" You asked, sliding away from Soap's playful grasp.

"The bet you made last night." Price and Ghost walked into the room at the exact same time, one smoking and the other holding a water bottle, just getting back from a workout. You had to figure out how the fuck these guys were functioning right now.

"Don't tell me you forgot?" Price asked, looking at you down his nose. All of a sudden the previous night rushed back to you- the singing and dancing on stage, telling the others you had been in theater as a teen.

Making that stupid fucking bet.

"Oh- you cant have been serious about that? I was drunk, I didn't really mean that-"

"Oh no darlin', don't go backing out now." Simon said, leaning against the counter. "Your word is your word, and we had a deal. Whoever finds ten photos of you, all taken before your junior year of highschool, gets to have you as their little plaything for a day."

Various murmurs of agreement come up around the room, and its then that you realize exactly what it is that you've set yourself up for.

"Quite honestly, sweetheart, I don't think any of us are backing down. It's a fairly simple challenge, anyways." Price smiled, and moved to stand right in front of you. His voice dropped to a sultry rumble, that you felt in the deepest corners of your body. "I mean, if I can say, I'm almost a hundred percent certain I'll have you tailing me around base by this time next week." He blew the smoke from his cigarette around your face, and winked at you. "See you at training, darling."

For what felt like forever, you sat on the couch dumbfounded at his obvious attempts at flirting. Slowly, the other three filed out of the room, moving to do their own daily routines.

Soap crouched in front of you, waving a hand in front of your face. "Don't mind em' yea? He'll keep. 'Sides, I promise when I get my way with you I won't be nearly as rough." He laughed and stood, patting you on your head.

"See yer at training, lass!"

Fucking hell.

My Masterlist

[skyeslittlecorner]

Could I request any romantic headcanons for the Hades nobles? They just been stuck in my brain since Ch.5 and the current event, especially Glas and Foras 💜

They infect our brains like a plague and I have no intention of getting rid of them. Hades propaganda let's go! I like to write thematically, so how about spending some time with them before and during the ball at Hades?

Orias not included, because I have no idea how he will behave towards MC.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Together with Barbatos, you are to prepare the decorations. And no, you can't open all the windows and cover everything with roses. After a lively discussion, you came to the conclusion that rose petals, bouquets of flowers on columns and long ribbons would be decorative enough, but not extravagant. You stood on the ladder, pinning the folds of fabric under the silver flowers.

"None of this matters anyway." Barbatos spoke too melancholy for him.

"Why?"

"When you appear at the door, beautiful as the sun itself, all the decorations will fade in your light anyway. And since everything takes place in the evening, you will replace the real sun for us."

You fell off the ladder when you heard him. Literally. Luckily, the demon caught you with a wide smile as you covered your face with your hands with a groan. He smelled like a fresh meadow on a summer morning, and was just as radiant.

"You don't say things like that out of surprise!"

"If you keep falling into my arms like that, that's exactly what I'll be doing."

Even if you wanted to, you couldn't get mad at him.

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Glasyalabolas is responsible for drinks and snacks. You had some bad feelings at first, but when you walked over the buffet, they all evaporated. You reached for the beautifully smelling punch. Before you grabbed the ladle, a large hand covered yours.

"It's not for you."

You turned on your heel, ready to be outraged, but then a mountain of a man placed a beautifully decorated glass of sweet-smelling wine in your hand.

"My queen should not drink the same as her subjects."

You raised your eyebrows in amusement. The wine was indeed surprisingly sweet, yet with a dry note.

"So what will your queen eat and drink at the party?"

"Let me present." He took you to a small table where the snacks looked surprisingly earthy. Emotion rose in your throat.

"Is this for me?"

"Only."

You took one of the macaroons and stood on your tiptoes to put it in the huge demon's mouth.

"So I'd like you to try them with me."

Only after the ball did you learn that everyone who drank the punch complained of an almond taste and stomach pain. The only thing that didn't taste suspicious was the snacks from the small table in the corner of the room...

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

The maids who were sent to help you get ready to go were finishing pinning up your hair and fixing your makeup when you heard a knock on the door. They mingled at your dressing table and left through the back door, whispering among themselves. They were nice, but you were a bit tired of all the preparations. Was all this really necessary?

"Please come in."

You saw the reflection of Foras entering in the mirror. Even though there's no loop around your neck, you've forgotten how to breathe. Instead of his usual uniform, he wore a formal suit, with a noose instead of a tie. You stood up to get a better look. And you saw there was delight on his face to rival yours.

"You look..." He couldn't find the words. He blinked, took your hand and leaned in to kiss it. "Perfect is too weak a word to describe you."

You no longer regret the time spent at the dressing table.

"You also."

"And lovely, too." He brushed a stray strand of hair from your forehead. "It's an honor to accompany you."

"Charmer."

You took his arm. His eyes said that he would rather stay here, keep you to himself and admire your beautiful appearance piece by piece, taking off your pins, jewelry, and finally your clothes, slowly, one by one, savoring each step. You felt the same way.

"I spent too much time getting ready to spoil it now. But once I show myself to the others, we can come back..."

"They don't deserve to look at you." It slipped out before he could stop himself.

You gripped his arm tighter, ran your fingers down his palm, along his long fingers and veins, and intertwined your hands. Even though you were both waiting for this ball, it suddenly started bothering you. All you needed was each other. But you both knew your responsibilities too well not to go.

[Pspsps, if you would like to see the continuation… ]

꧁:･ ✡ ･:꧂

Leviathan is perfect, as is the entire celebration. But he only appeared for a moment, at the beginning, and you never saw him again. It took a while for you to slip out and find him in the tower of the palace, looking out the window at the feast in the market square. He liked this place. He saw everything that was happening around him, and at the same time he was not surrounded by people. With you, the slow music from the ballroom came through the open door.

"The King of Hades is perfect, right?"

He narrowed his eyes suspiciously, but at least he finally noticed you.

"There should be no doubt about it."

"I wondered if he could dance perfectly too."

He pulled away and stood straight, one hand on his back and the other outstretched towards you. "What a cheap move. If you wanted to dance, all you had to do was say so."

But despite his perfect posture, you saw that he couldn't help himself and looked you up and down. You accepted his hand, placing the other on his shoulder. The silk shirt was as soft to the touch as the muscles you felt beneath it.

"In a perfect scenario, the prince should be the one to ask the princess to dance, you know?"

"This is life, not a fairy tale. I am the king. And you are not allowed to dance with any of the princes."

You giggled, but then he pulled your waist tighter to him. The music, the darkness of the room, the laughter coming from the market square and, above all, the charming man who guided your steps made you have to disagree with him.

"That's right. It's not a fairy tale." You whispered, dancing so close that you rested your head on his chest. "That's much better."

And even though you couldn't see it, or that's why, Leviathan lifted the corners of his mouth as he held you in his arms.

[talesofesther]

birthday girl

Wednesday Addams x Reader

This story belongs to the Sweet Calamity universe

Summary: Wednesday tries to make something special for your birthday.

A/N: A sweet little thing for my favorite universe. And also as a birthday gift for my dear friend @eviekensington. <3

Masterlist 

It was a day like any other; the sun was peeking through the clouds, your colleagues had sour faces in the morning, your girlfriend's hand was warm in yours.

Just a normal Thursday.

Or at least you hoped it would be.

You were walking out of your last class with Wednesday, talking with her about the upcoming test. Well, you were talking, she was listening and humming along.

The day went by as normal, the sun just a few hours short of setting, and no one had acknowledged it was your birthday yet.

Just how you liked it.

Honestly, it's not that you don't like when people remember your birthday, you do — it shows they care. Yet the sometimes overwhelming attention that comes with it is not exactly something you love.

One person wishes you a happy birthday and suddenly there are people you don't even know pulling you into a hug to do the same. It feels like the spotlight is on you for the whole day. That, you don't like.

To avoid things like that, you preferred to keep it a secret. Though this year there's something different; you had your soulmate with you. A soulmate who's very good at uncovering secrets.

"I happened to forget my hunting knife at the ballroom," Wednesday suddenly interrupted your rambling, "would you accompany me to get it?"

"Uh-" you didn't know what she was doing with a hunting knife at the school's ballroom in the first place, but there was no reason for saying no to spending more time alone with her, "yeah, of course."

Wednesday gave you a barely there smile and squeezed your hand before pulling you along.

Maybe you should have expected it, what with the way she was being all secretive today, dodging your attempts at making plans for later and sending texts to someone whilst in class — you barely saw Wednesday touch her cellphone on a normal day; that should've been reason enough for you to guess something was off.

You pushed open the ballroom doors and were immediately greeted with chantings of happy birthday. Enid, Ajax, Bianca, Yoko, Divina, Xavier, Eugene, and many others of your friends occupied a small portion of the big ballroom; there was a table with a cake and drinks on top of it and a haphazard cut-out birthday sign taped to the wall along with a few balloons.

Placing a hand over your racing heart, you looked at Wednesday beside you, she had a glint of pride in her eyes.

"You weren't assuming I was unaware, right?" She smirked, then motioned for you to walk further into the ballroom, "you can thank Enid for the party."

You didn't have much time to answer before Enid was pulling you into a bone-crushing hug; "happy birthday, Y/n." She pulled back, half-heartedly glaring at you, "I can't believe you weren't going to tell me it's your birthday."

"Well, I-" you started with a timid chuckle.

"No matter," the werewolf kept going, a bright smile on her lips that you couldn't help but copy, it did feel nice to have people who cared. "Wednesday found out just in time."

Enid was also the first to give you a present after all of your friends hugged you; it was a large pink box that had a knitted sweater inside it, the fabric unbelievably soft, in shades of purple and lilac — it was bound to become your favorite.

For what felt like hours you ate, drank, received gifts, and celebrated with your friends. It was nice — until the attention became overwhelming, until you were craving some fresh air.

Luckily, you had someone who apparently could read you like an open book.

You were putting away your empty cup when you felt nimble fingers touching your elbow. Her presence so familiar to you that you didn't even need to turn to see who it was — your soul knew the shape of hers already — but you did anyway, pursing your lips in a smile.

"Are you not enjoying your festivities, mi flor?" Wednesday spoke with a softness reserved for you only.

"I am, really I am," you reassured a little too urgently, biting your lip when all you got from her in response was a raised eyebrow telling you to be honest. "It's just- I don't like much attention on me as is, and here, I feel like all eyes are on me."

Wednesday hummed, her brows scrunched in thought, "Enid said to me that's what you'd like when I told her I wanted to do something for today. I apologize."

You could swoon. You wanted to kiss away the little pout on Wednesday's lips — so you did, you cupped her face with one hand and gave a peck to her lips; "don't apologize, I loved it. Just the fact that you thought of doing something already means everything to me."

The dimmed lights of the ballroom almost hid the blush on her pale cheeks. Almost. Her fingers trailed down your arm, creating goosebumps on your skin until her hand found yours, "come with me."

"What about them?" You glanced at your friends. They were laughing with each other and stuffing themselves with cake.

"They won't mind."

With her hand in yours, Wednesday took you all the way to the lake just outside the school walls, its water was glistening with the fading sunlight and the few leaves on the trees were rustling with the cold wind. It was gorgeous, straight out of a painting.

She sat down with you on the wooden deck, both your feet just short of touching the water.

"This better?" Wednesday asked, her eyes expectant on you.

"Yeah," you intertwined your fingers with hers and brought her hand up to kiss her knuckles, "it's the best."

Wednesday knew you loved all things nature, she reprimanded herself for this not being her first option. Though you genuinely looked happy, with a soft smile permanent on your lips and the golden sunset reflecting in your eyes.

You watched in blissful silence as the sun slowly disappeared behind the mountains, your thumb gently tracing the skin on your girlfriend's hand.

"Thank you, this really is the best birthday," you said quietly so as to not disturb the atmosphere around you.

You felt Wednesday's eyes on you, "because you're here," you told her. Despite being true, your own words made you smirk as you waited for the reaction you knew they'd cause.

"That's nauseating," Wednesday grumbled, tugging at your hand so it would rest on her lap.

"You love it," you bumped her shoulder with yours, stretching your feet to kick the water underneath you.

Wednesday held back a smile. She did love it.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

[cocogum]

The Great Wave - Chapter 7 Review

‼️SPOILERS FOR THE CHAPTER‼️

Warning(s): unhinged behavior, fat shaming, unnecessary use of foul language, osamodas slander

This chapter made the stupid decision to edge me.

We come back to Yugo having an episode from the poison he just drank and he is going through it hard.

My guy is coughing up blood, eyes are turning red, body is shaking like a mad man, screaming in agony, and his wakfu antlers are even going crazy…

To top it all off, he’s now having a series of igniting explosions because of the dofus residing in him. Like you can’t make this shit up, my guy is literally creating explosions from the inside out. Look at the damages.

(damn, amalia is carrying this whole banquet. look at her saving these ppl what a queen ✨)

Which clown decided it was a good idea to poison a demigod in charge of six dofus and expect nothing abnormal or deadly to happen?????

Oh yeah, the blue-skinned cows.

I don’t care what anyone says. The osamodas family was in charge of the poison attempt, I don’t care if it was that Sadida woman’s idea since it’s obvious she’d know more about poisoning. The osamodas are at fault, the osamodas king told Aurora that they should wait and let them enjoy this last happy occasion. He also told Aurora that they knew about the marriage but weren’t invited?? Come on, they’re clearly at fault here!! They’re the ones who told the Sadida servant to do something about it and she improvised! But what these two bozos didn’t know, was how it would backfire on them. This is stupid to think about because they KNEW Yugo wasn’t a normal person. Poisoning Yugo is like trying to poison a deadly cobra. Or in this case, A FUCKING DEMIGOD. Either way, you’re gonna get jumped.

Like, OF COURSE Yugo’s gonna have a freakout and fuck shit up when his body had been messed with a deadly substance.

OF COURSE, he’s gonna hurt a lot of people around him if he’s around anyone.

OF COURSE, he won’t fucking die cuz of his divinity status.

OF COURSE, he’ll start ruining the kingdom these two fucking dumbasses want for no reason.

You can’t make this shit up.

These two are so bad at being villains, they don’t even know what the fuck they’re doing to people they don’t bother knowing more about. They don’t even know who their target is.

After understanding what kind of poison Yugo drank, which was the belladone, we now know why Amalia knew what was in the cup. She probably recognized the smell of it.

Amalia: “Adamaï…The belladone is the worst of poisons…”

According to how she describes it, this poison is so deadly that it kills the person or animal who drinks it in under ten seconds. The victim first drinks it and then foams at the mouth before collapsing and dying.

We’ve seen the same thing happen in another era of the World of Twelve and that was back in the Cire Momore backstory which was an event around the Dofus era.

The daughter of a queen tried poisoning her for all the suffering she’s endured and had the help of a painter to do it.

Gustave (painter): “I found the berries at the exact place you indicated.”

Princess: “Perfect. Do not forget to carefully wash your hands. The belladone is highly toxic.”

Based on this passage alone, we’ve learned that the belladone are purple berries that are so toxic, that they can even damage you if you don’t properly wash your hands after you pick them.

After that, during the banquet, the princess secretly poured the poison into her mother’s wine. But just before she could drink it, her dog suddenly jumped at her, causing her to drop the wine, which made the pet drink it from the ground instead.

The results were exactly what you expected to happen.

Once the dog drank it, he foamed at the mouth and collapsed, immediately dying from the drink.

So when we compare this instance to what happened to Yugo, we can see a huge difference.

Unlike what happened to the dog (or any mortal), Yugo is still standing but is terribly shaking, coughing blood, and having an episode. His body is trying to get the poison out of his system by coughing but his body is still alive.

The only thing Yugo can say while in this situation is “It hurts”. My guy is in severe pain but he’s still breathing, I don’t think anyone in the history of the krosmoz has ever taken the poison like this, let alone a divinity of all people.

Yugo: “Sor…ry. The…pain.”

Bro even has the time to say sorry while kneeling on the ground and holding his stomach. He’s literally at death’s door, grasping for life, his body trying and struggling to reject the poison, and he still finds the time to apologize for something that wasn’t even his fault.

What a chad.

Amalia: “Yugo…He should already be…”

Adamaï: “My brother isn’t like everyone! He possesses the six primordial eliatrope dofus, if he manages to take hold of himself, then he can take it…”

Even Amalia is shocked that Yugo is still breathing. But Adamaï over here is telling her that he WILL survive this if he can perfectly control it with the eliatrope dofus.

And we all know how that ended up for him the last time he used them…

So Adamaï flies in and takes Yugo away from the banquet before he actually hurts somebody.

Adamaï: “Yugo, you have to focus. Or else you’ll destroy your kingdom or end up killing someone!”

But bro is not listening cuz the second Adamaï pulls him up, dude just overcharged himself before exploding AGAIN.

JUST LOOK AT THE DAMAGE!! THAT LITERALLY LOOKS LIKE A CRATER!! You can even see how perfect the circle looks from this shot.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, the moment you’ve all been waiting for.

AMALIA FUCKING GROWING SOME BALLS AND JUMPING ON THE OSAMODAS.

Nah cuz this scene was what we needed! THIS was the moment we wanted to see ever since that blue-skinned woman started breathing in front of our screens!!

As soon as Yugo caused another explosion, this was it for the stupid clown ‘royal’ family. They signed their death sentences and Amalia is fed up with their bullshit.

Cuz trying to make her marry one of their relatives, being disrespected by them while her brother did nothing, getting told to leave her home and kingdom, being told that she should be replaced, sure she could manage all that.

She can take it. But seeing her husband being poisoned like that on the same day that a wedding was supposed to happen AND having the osamodas randomly being there to witness it, was the last straw before she finally fucking snaps.

She had just lost her whole family in a short period, she wasn’t going to lose her husband to some clowns.

(Also what the fuck were they thinking of poisoning her husband when she had already lost so much?? Did they really think this whole thing wasn’t going to backfire on them??? What a bunch of amateurs.)

And look at them just standing there looking 😮😱😱😱😧😮 LIKE OF COURSE SHE WAS GONNA KILL Y’ALL, YOU BOTH LOOK LIKE THE ODD ONES OUT HERE ‼️‼️

They even looked caught off guard when they saw Yugo causing explosions.

You got Aurora over here with her dumb ugly bat pet looking all shocked, covering her mouth as if she was surprised to find out her dad’s shenanigans wouldn’t work. And then you got animal king over here realizing he fucked up.

And right when they get confronted for their repetitive bullshit, they see literal death looking back at them with the most bloodthirsty eyes they had ever seen before.

Amalia’s so pretty in this shot ready to rip them apart 🥰🥰

Like yes queen, cut them to pieces, we’re about to have a barbecue 🤤🤤

As soon as they get caught red-handed, that’s when they suddenly turn soft and act like victims.

Fatty: “Stay back my daughter, this girl has lost her mind.”

“StAy bAcK mY DAUghTEr, ThIs gIrL hAs-“

Shut yo dumbass up little boy you knew something like this would’ve happened stop playing with me.

He’s over here acting like a random passerby when a second ago he told Aurora that they should wait a little more for something to happen.

So when he gets cornered by the very same girl who he had disrespected and ignored in Season 4 and wanted to be replaced so his useless trophy daughter can take the throne, now she’s suddenly “lost her mind”???

Fuck you.

Amalia: “YOU MONSTERS! I WAS READY TO CONFIDE YOU MY KINGDOM!”

Fatty: “I don’t know what you’re imagining, girl, but…”

That useless fat fuck KEEPS PLAYING THE CARD VICTIM EVEN WHEN SHE HAS EVERY RIGHT TO BLAME HIM.

ARE YOU KIDDING ME????

WTF IS WRONG WITH THEM?!!?

She has EVERY RIGHT and he’s over here HEARING HER say that she was ready to give him the kingdom but this fatso is too high up his own ass to hear her cuz he’s still delusional and telling her he didn’t do shit. Even when she was this close to giving it to him, this guy was not budging from the victim card.

If I could spit at anyone in my life, it’d be him. What a sad excuse of a man. I bet my own kidney Chibi can take him in a fight.

This is literally my favourite panel of this WHOLE volume so far.

Amalia: “You poisoned my husband.”

I love it so much ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

LIKE YES FUCKING KILL THEM RIP THEM APART THEY’RE JUST STANDING THERE LIKE PROCESSED MEAT READY TO BE CUT‼️‼️‼️‼️

DO IT ‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️

I just love how the more Amalia becomes enraged, the more her speech bubbles tremble and shake, implying that she’s slowly but surely becoming more unhinged and losing it.

Fatty: “Crazy girl…”

Takes one to know one, bitch.

This chapter genuinely edged me, I WANNA SEE SOME BLOOD ALREADY‼️‼️

YOU’RE CO CLOSE JUST KILL THEM‼️‼️‼️‼️

DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DO IT DOT IT DO IT DO IT-

I PRAY that these poor excuses of antagonists DO NOT appear in volume 2. The chapter cover of the tenth chapter only features the Sadida servant who poisoned Yugo and she looks completely calm, almost like Yugo’s explosions and Amalia and Aurora’s fight have calmed down.

SO PLEASE TOT PLEASE DON’T PUT THEM ANYWHERE ELSE ANYMORE.

Seasons 3, and 4, and the great wave’s first volume are already enough. So cut it out. Let me have a day where I don’t get a migraine just thinking about what kind of dumbassery these fake osamodas will do in the next chapter.

[manicpixiedreamcurl]

The More You Give ❧ (Part VI)

Pairing | Eddie Munson x shy!reader

Warnings | 18+ minors and blank blogs don’t interact, bullying, discussions of anxiety, oral (f receiving), virginity loss, protected P in V sex.

Word Count | ~16,400 

A/N | Oh you won't be able to move for all the fluff. Cheeky shout-out to @heydreamchild for this post which made me lose my mind in the tags and think about Eddie's relationship with Wayne's mug collection.

Taglist (please don't ask to be tagged if you won't interact with the fic)

Previous Chapter

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 You screw your eyes shut instead of watching the ping pong ball continue its high arch over the remaining cups on the other side of the table. You hear it hit the floor, the barely suppressed scoff across from you at another missed shot. 

Your cheeks are burning, have been since you started this game. You open an eye to find May smiling at you encouragingly as she lines herself up for her turn. She’s more practised than you. Invited to more of these parties, asked to play more of these games. The ball flies from her hand and lands with a gentle splash in one of the three remaining cups in front of you, her expression now tinged with satisfaction. You can’t blame her, you’d look the same if you were good at any of this. You fish the ball out and sip the lukewarm beer for a second before forcing the rest of it down just to get this turn over with. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, handing the ball to your partner and stepping aside to let him take his turn. Safely at the corner of the table, you glance quickly at the clock on the other side of the room. It reads 11:03pm, and you wonder if you could negotiate heading home by eleven thirty. 

Not likely. 

When you’d walked through the door, shoulders pressed between both your friends, you had yourself convinced that you would have a good time tonight. Tipsy from the white wine your mom let you drink under her supervision, warm with joy from an early evening spent with May and Heather in your room. It’s your favourite part of going out; the hour or two before. When it’s just the three of you, with nobody else to perform for, you fit right back together as you always did. Swapping gossip, exchanging compliments. Painting Heather’s nails a soft pink, her steady hands painting yours in return. You worked on May’s make up, smiled shyly  into the mirror when she set your hair up the way you like it and told you with a pout how jealous she is of its texture. 

You listened to Heather, gentle and happy at seeing her boyfriend, at the flowers he’d brought her. You spoke to May about the film you should rent for your next movie night; a comedy with popcorn or a weepy chick flick with chocolate. You’d watched from your bed, grinning and heartsore while May leaned into Heather’s shoulder, serenading her while she applied her lipstick. Heather rolled her eyes fondly as May crooned into her ear, “I can’t fight this feeling anymore!” 

Later, head truly fuzzy from paint stripper vodka and lemonade, you’d screamed all the words to Power of Love with them. Hands in the air, hips swaying, content in the knowledge that, if everyone in the house has drank as much as you, none of them will care to remember how you danced and sang tonight. It was exactly as you wanted it to always be. With your friends, believing entirely, at least in the moment, that you still put each other first. That you were friends now not just because you used to be. 

Only, Heather’s boyfriend had appeared like a grey cloud in the blue sky of your evening. Before you knew it, she was settled under his arm on a couch at the other side of the room, sipping light beer and talking with the friends he’d brought back from college for the weekend. All boys you can’t stand, and know May can’t stand either. The last time you saw them, when May had told them proudly that you were well on your way to NYU to study Comparative Literature, you’d watched two of them make eye contact, sniggering with each other into their beer. You weren’t proud of yourself for adding that you still might do Chemistry, not that it had helped much. 

Soon after, May was called over by some cheer friends. She’d grasped your hand and pulled you along with her, both a blessing and a curse that she refuses to leave you out. Lacking some of your usual self-consciousness, both from your continual sips at your drink and the fact that Caroline, blessedly, hadn’t shown up, you’d managed a brief, fairly friendly chat with Tracy about whether she was wearing too much blush (she was) followed by how well the basketball team will do this year (hell if you know). 

Then, when Josh, a boy May has had a simmering crush on since you were freshmen, invited her over to play beer pong, you let her pull you with her again. And here you are, paired with this boy in green and white. Ethan flashes his white toothed smile every time you miss a shot on account of your shaking hands. A charming smile that tells you how girls might get into trouble on his account; girls like Caroline, girls like Erin. You wonder if it was that smile that made Erin follow him upstairs that night, that made Caroline fall back into his arms with little complaint, all the blame placed elsewhere. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, squeezing the top of your arm before turning his attention to the table. May smiles at you again as Josh chugs beer down in a quick gulp, sending you all the signs of gratitude that make you feel guilty for thinking almost exclusively about the ways you could leave soon.

When it’s your turn again, you take stock of the cups across from you. Two on your side, four on theirs, so with any luck this is your last turn. You watch the ball just brush the opposite rim of one of the cups, before bouncing lamely to the table. “Okay, that one was close.” Ethan says kindly, elbowing you.

“Nah, her head’s in the clouds,” Josh says with a smirk, catching the ball and bouncing it a couple times off the table. “Too busy thinking about…Munson, right? Would not have thought that was your type, but uh, I guess that explains why you wouldn’t let Andy-”

“Leave her alone, Josh,” May cuts in, leaning away from him with a scowl. You feel a rush around your ears, your heart in your throat. You like to forget this fact, but sometimes you’re reminded of it like seeing it written in bright red neon. Just about everybody knows what happened between you and Andy to varying degrees of detail, and they can all use it against you whenever they want. 

“It’s not that serious,” he says, the following laugh more defensive when May rolls her eyes. “You are dating the freak, right?”

Your toes curl. “Don’t call him that.”

“C’mon, man,” Ethan sighs. “You’re killing the mood.”

“It’s dead and buried,” May corrects, face set in that brilliant frown that gets your heart pumping when it’s directed at you. 

Josh glances between the three of you, landing particularly on May and her crossed arms. He looks to Ethan again for support, throws his hands up when he finds none there. “Fine,” he says, smacking his teeth. “‘S boring playing girls anyway.”

He bounces the ball across the table to Ethan, and stalks off with his shoulders sagging. May’s face softens when she comes over to you, your chest warm at her concern. “You okay?”

“Mm. Thank you.”

She pouts, swaying a little. “Why are guys such jerks?”

“Um, I’m right here,” Ethan laughs, chucking the ball back and forth between his hands. There’s that smile again, easy and sharp and clean. You think of Erin, dragged through mud. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, barely glancing at him. 

“No problem. He’s an idiot when he’s drunk.”

If you were braver, you’d say he’s an idiot sober, too. 

“Looks like we need to even the teams up,” May says brightly. 

“Oh, that’s okay,” you answer, the only relief from the situation that this may give you a chance to escape for a brief moment. “I wanna get some water. You guys can keep playing.”

“You sure?” She asks, leaning in so it really is just the two of you, giving you a hit of tuberose and orange blossom, the same perfume she’s worn since your first high school party in ‘83. “I’ll come with you if you want.”

“It’s okay,” you say, squeezing her arm gratefully. “I’ll be right back.”

The air is fresher the second you’re in the hallway, without the clutch of warm bodies forcing you to mutter ‘excuse me’ enough that the words lose all meaning. The damp heat picks up again in the kitchen, smaller groups standing around with cups in their hands, some swaying to the distant music. You glance at the sink, find a couple crowded in front of it, their eyes intent on eachother. Even your slightly fuzzy mind decides against trying to navigate around them in search of water. 

“Hey, Ringwald.” It takes a good couple of seconds for you to register that the greeting might be for you. It requires a tap on the shoulder, Erin’s half there smile directed your way. She holds up a cup. “Want some?” 

You glance into it, find clear liquid that gets your hopes up. “Water?”

She snorts. “I know I’m pretty badass, but six shots of vodka in one cup is a little much. Even for me.” 

You take it gratefully, screaming at your tipsy brain to remember not to drink too much of someone else’s water. A couple gulps and you hand it back to her, surprised at how much you needed it, throat a little scratchy from singing earlier before your joy left with Heather. 

“So, uh, how are you?”

You nod, giving her a close lipped smile. “Yeah, fine. How are you?”

Erin tilts her head, her right eye narrowing. “No, I mean, like really how are you?” She waves her cup around, as if gesturing to the entire house. “Seems like you and May are friends again, I guess.”

“We were always friends,” you assure, heart panging. “She was just,” you search for it, unprepared for this conversation. Where you normally would avoid answering altogether, your cottoned up mind combined with the earnest desperation to defend your friend ends in a rambling answer. “I didn’t tell her the right way, you know? She was hurt, finding out from somebody else about, you know, Eddie and I. But we talked it all out and she’s forgiven me.”

“Forgiven…you?” 

“For not telling her myself.”

Erin taps a finger on her cup, considering you. “That’s what she was angry about?”

Your mouth opens, thoughts tangling. “Um, I mean, among other things,” you rush, giving her a reassuring smile. “But everything’s fine now.” 

“Okay,” she says, that half smile returning. “Glad to hear it, Ringwald.”

“I, um,” you step a little closer, forcing yourself to look right into her eyes. “I did want to say thank you for that actually. I just-” You just worried endlessly about approaching her, how you would even thank her for preventing you from being quizzed about your sex life in front of an entire group. You shrug, and luckily Erin seems to understand.

“Don’t worry about it,” she says. “You shouldn’t have had to explain yourself in the first place. But those girls are pretty vicious when they smell blood.”

You’re struck with a pity for her you know she’d probably hate you feeling. You try to remember what she was like before her entire friend group turned on her, before she was taken in by that sharp smile. She still had the sarcastic wit, you’re sure. But without the undertone of anger that comes along every other sentence; less bite. Erin has always been confident, but now she carries herself like somebody full of righteous indignation and nowhere to put it.

“You can have the rest of this,” she says, handing you the water and looking away like she’s read your whole thought process and wants out of the conversation quick. “Those six shots actually sound kind of appealing now.”

“Okay, well, see you later?”

She gives you a little thumbs up as she passes. You watch her elbow past the couple at the sink to reach the bottles and cups piled beside it. Already feeling more sober than you had when you walked in, you finish the cool water, resisting the temptation to start playing with the material of your skirt. 

“Hey, uh…hey.” You look over at Neil from your Physics class, recognising the sound of somebody trying and failing to remember your name. “Could you talk to Munson for me? Tell him I’m good for the money, it’s just that it’s another week before I get paid.”

You blink. The information takes a second to move from your ears to your brain, longer to process their whole meaning. You feel a flutter in your chest; something like excitement, something like relief. “Eddie’s here?”

“Yeah, and he’s making a really big deal out of twenty dollars, you know?”

You look over his shoulder as if Eddie might be standing out in the hallway, finding only the empty doorway. “Where is he?”

“Uh, he was by the stereo I think? So, you’ll talk to him?” 

“Um, sure,” you mumble, pressing past him to walk down the hall back into the living room. There’s May, laughing as Ethan tips his head back to drink, the table laden with a new set of cups. On the other side of the room, Heather, nodding at something and looking serious as ever. 

And then you catch him; a head of messy curls, denim on leather, the cut out t-shirt you know Eddie sewed on himself by hand. He’s standing right next to the stereo, sorting through records. His curls shift with a shake of his head and you just know his expression is dismayed, truly disappointed in the collection. To his side, a group of boys is searching their pockets, failing to hide their efforts to pool money together. 

Eddie’s presence pulls at you, an invisible but physical tug, and before you know it you’re crossing the room towards him. He jumps a little when you rest your palm on his back, his hand flying to his wallet chain. Then his brown eyes land on you, and you feel the unique joy of watching Eddie realising it’s you. His expression turns in an instant from guarded to happiness. Round eyes look you up and down once in surprise to confirm it’s you, once again in appreciation. He leans right into you, smile a little wolfish. “Well, hey. What brings you to my darkened corner, sweet thing?”

What can you say to that? That in the six, seven hours since you’ve seen him, you’ve felt the lack of his presence? That you’ve spent the last hour in particular wishing you’d never come here, wondering why you didn’t go home with him instead? 

“Was surprised to see you.”

“Yeah, well,” he starts, gesturing with his head to the boys behind him. “My services were required, you see.” His eyes track down again, zeroing in at the place on your legs where your dress ends, the fishnet tights wrapped around your thighs. “You look, uh,” he clears his throat, clearly searching for the right word. “Shit. I mean, fuck. You look good.” 

Your cheeks warm. You turn to the side a touch, pressing your knees together. “Thank you.”

“I um, really like these.” His hand teases the hem of your dress, thumb brushing across the string of your tights. Eddie’s fingers are a warm sting that has your breath catching, your body aching to be closer to him, to more of his heat. 

“Munson?” Sounds from behind him, and the spell is broken. Eddie jumps again, hand parting from your skin like he’d touched a hot stove. His hair flies around him as he turns, face becoming impassive again. 

“Gentlemen,” he says, standing in front of you. “Managed to pool your allowances?” 

“Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie’s head tilts. “For future reference, save the shit talk till after you have the product in your hand. Unless you wanna add another ten percent for the ounce-”

“No, it’s fine,” another says, elbowing his friend. “It’s all there.”

Eddie sighs, taking the collection of rumpled bills from his hand. You watch him stand in front of the antsy boys, counting each note twice over just to watch them squirm. “Mm. Looks like it’s all here.” He brings his wallet from his back pocket, attached to his jeans by a chain, and tucks the money inside. Then, after glancing around him quickly, Eddie’s right hand disappears into the front of his pants. 

“Kept it warm for you, boys,” he cackles, pulling out a plastic baggy filled with green clumps and hurling it towards them. 

In the next second, he’s grabbed your hand and is pulling you through the crowd to the sound of, “Munson, you prick!” from behind you. You can hear Eddie’s almost manic giggling over the music, your heart pounding from speeding after him and the fear of the chance at being followed by five boys, all half drunk and furious. 

Eddie’s hand remains tight around yours until the cool air out the front door hits your heated skin, finally slowing to catch his breath, still chuckling to himself. You watch him, wide eyed, as he leans back against the front wall, head falling back and then forward to look at you. His eyes flash, his face tells you he’s proud. 

“Why did you do that?” 

His laughter stops when he spies the serious look on your face, your hands fiddling with your skirt. “Ah, shit. Sorry,” he sighs. “I didn’t plan for you to be around but there wasn’t much I could do, sweet thing. It was already down there, y’know?” 

“That’s not what I- Why would you aggravate them like that, Eddie?” 

Something a little cold comes over his face then. “Satisfaction, pure and simple,” he answers. “The only kind I can get out of guys like that.”

“But, if you didn’t speak to them like that-”

Eddie’s already shaking his head. “If I didn’t speak to them like that- Hell, if I gave them that weed for free, got on my knees and asked for an ounce of kindness, come Monday they’re still gonna throw me, or Jeff, or any of the guys from Hellfire into a locker,” he tells you, voice a plea for you to understand. “Or call me a freak, or lock one of the freshmen, who still barely know their way around the building, in a supply closet for an hour.” Eddie tilts his head at you. “It’s got absolutely nothing to do with me aggravating them or not, okay? It's not about how nice I am, or how I talk to them - it's about this," he stresses grabbing his long hair, then his shirt. "And this. And D&D and the fucking trailer and my piece of shit father. No amount of sweet talk will fix it cause they don't want me to be nice; they want me to change. And I can’t do that, okay? More importantly, I won’t do that.”

Everything he says makes your chest hurt.

It makes sense, that this is how Eddie Munson thinks. Since your first stumbled word, you’ve been hiding yourself away, blending into the crowd to avoid all the pain that comes with being singled out. But him? Eddie has no interest in curling in on himself, shrinking his personality to fit in. Everything he says, every move he makes, is unapologetic. As true to himself as that shirt. 

But it hurts to think that something so unnatural to you could be right. For all your good will, all your work and staying under the radar, it hasn't saved you. Your need to keep quiet only led to Caroline’s harshness, the laughter from the cheer girls. Your desperation to avoid judgement only opened all the right doors for Andy to hurt you the way he did, for everyone around you to know exactly how. All your complacency, all your acquiescence, none of it kept your friends nearly as close as you’d wanted them. 

You swallow, catch Eddie’s eyes, and whisper in earnest. “I don’t want you to change.” 

You could cry at the relief in his face, the fast blinking that vanishes the shine in his eyes. His head tilts. “No?”

You shake your head vehemently, wishing he would hold your hand again so you could play with his fingers. He pushes himself off the wall and leans into your space, hair falling towards you. You look between his eyes and his collar, debating hiding your face there. 

“Not even my driving?”  

“Okay,” you answer, watching his dimples press into his face. “Maybe I’d like you to change one thing.”

“I knew it!” Eddie cries, throwing his hands up. “Sweet girls like you are only ever after one thing. You wanna fix me, huh?”

“No,” you whisper, smiling to the side. “Just, gently improve your interest in speed limits?” 

“Yeah? And what about my proclivity for pineapple and olive pizza?”

You chew the inside of your lip, suppressing giggles. “I think, given time, I can learn to live with it.” You feel a buzz of pride at Eddie’s laugh, the crinkle around his eyes he gets when he’s really, truly happy. “I do mean it, Eddie. I like you exactly as you are. More-” You take a breath. “More than I’ve ever liked anyone.”

Eddie’s hand finds yours again, your fingers curling into his, your knuckles at his palm. 

“Like me enough to come home with me?” 

You want to. Desperately. The relief you felt at seeing him, your whole body telling you that you’d rather spend an evening with Eddie than here, navigating social circles you’ll never really be a part of. 

“I have to tell my friends first,” you say, watching Eddie nod. 

“Sure thing. I can wait.”

“Okay.” Your gaze travels between his eyes and his collar again, stalling your departure. You want a kiss. Want to kiss him all the time, even for a short goodbye. Eddie, sensing your hesitance to leave, narrows his eyes a little like he's trying to work you out. He catches your eyes dart to his lips, and they curve. 

“Sweet girl,” he murmurs, leaning down to you. It’s a perfect, innocent little thing. But you like it, like the domesticity you’re learning with Eddie. You want kisses goodbye and hello, his hand in yours in the car. You want elbows meeting sides while cooking together, waking up in the middle of the night just to hear Eddie breathing before you fall away again, catching sight of each other in the mirror while you brush your teeth in the morning. You want your daily life, with Eddie in it, with all the things he adds just by way of existing. 

You give him another quick peck, face hot, and run into the house before your mouth asks him to leave with you now and never come back. 

You find May in the kitchen, huddled together with a couple of the cheer girls as well as Ethan. She waves brightly when she catches sight of you, gesturing you over. “Hi!” She calls, hair mussed, clearly having continued to drink since you parted. “Where did you go?”

“Um, I was thinking I might go home,” you say, fiddling with your skirt. “M’tired.”

“Oh, are Heather and Patrick leaving too?”

“No, no. I ran into Eddie. He’s gonna give me a ride home.” 

You brace yourself, the back of your neck prickling with tension. You watch the expression on May’s face shift from confusion, not to anger or disappointment, but amusement. 

“Ohh-kay, you’re tired,” she laughs, shaking her head. You make a noise in embarrassment, checking to see if the rest of the group are listening in and she grins at you, pulling you into a quick, floral smelling, hug. “Have a good night, okay? I’ll see you later.”

You give her a squeeze back, chest warm. “Yeah, later.” 

You give a half hearted wave to everyone else, navigating your way to the living room. Heather is where she has been all evening, under Patrick’s arm. “Hey,” you say, avoiding eye contact with the boys around her. “I’m gonna head.”

“Already?” Heather pouts. A quick throb or annoyance rises and falls, your anger that she wouldn't have noticed either way reasoned with the fact that it was your decision not to spend any time with this group. 

“Yeah, I’m tired.”

“I thought I was giving you a ride?” Patrick asks, leaning over.

"No, Eddie's gonna take me home."

There’s a moment of quiet, information sinking in before Patrick's face displays a shocked frown. "Eddie? Munson? You're getting in that scrap heap he calls a van?" 

You look from him to Heather, spy the clear guilt on her face when you say, "He's my boyfriend. Heather didn't tell you?" 

“She most certainly did not- when the fuck-”

“I’m sure she can fill you in,” you say, voice edging towards breaking, thinking about her encouragement, her fingers on the cross around her neck. Heather's mouth opens, her hand coming to that very pendant, and you shake your head. "Bye." 

She calls your name behind you, but doesn't come after you when you leave. 

Eddie is waiting for you still, balancing a seat on the porch rail and smoking when you emerge. A dimple presses into his face when he flicks the cigarette away and slides down. “All good?”

You grab his hand, bury your face into his shoulder to lean on him a little. Breathe in leather and drugstore shampoo - Eddie, Eddie, Eddie - until your heart stops throbbing painfully. 

“All good,” you mumble, turning your head to look at him from his shoulder. “Home?”

You realise how tired you are when you are settled in Eddie’s van, your eyes and limbs heavy. You half want to curl up in the soft seat and drift, but get taken in by watching Eddie as he drives. His fingers following the guitar licks of his music on the steering wheel, his hair shifting when he rocks his head forward. The way he glances at you when he turns, catches you staring and grins to himself every time. 

"You know, I didn’t really have you down as someone who’d be into paaarties,” he says, eyes wide with his mocking tone. He glances at you again, at your worn out state, and half closes an eye. “And I gotta say, you don't seem like you were having a good time."

You think about that for a minute, wondering how best to explain your complicated relationship with social events. “I like dancing with my friends,” you start with a shrug. “And getting ready.” You lean your head back. “It’s like the only time the three of us are together anymore.”

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, glancing over at you. “Why’s that?”

Why is that? You’ve wondered it yourself. It felt like, suddenly, though maybe it happened very slowly without you realising, whatever delicate thread held you together started to strain as you moved in different directions. Or, as they did; leaving you lonely in the place you used to share. Waiting for them to visit, when it suits them. 

They changed. You stayed the same.

Only, you must have changed a little. You replay that last moment with Heather tonight in your head, wondering if you’ve ever shown her your hurt, your anger. Six months ago, you doubt you’d even have left at all. It’s more likely that you would have stayed, wishing to be anywhere else, until they wanted to leave. 

Eddie looks over at you following your long silence, adopts the soft, encouraging smile he gives you to show you he’ll wait for your answer, regardless of the reasons it’s taking you so long to find it. You get an inkling, then, of why you’ve changed, if only a little. 

“We’re all just…different than we were,” you say finally. 

“People change, I guess,” Eddie nods. “For better or worse.”

You think you might be better.

Exhaustion takes over when you cross the comforting threshold into Eddie’s home; the familiar smell and warmth of it sending a message across your body that you can relax now. You clean your teeth with the brush Eddie presented you with the first time you stayed over, scrub at your face with warm water until all that’s left are panda eyes you don’t have the fortitude to deal with. When Eddie takes his turn in the bathroom, you search through the little drawer he’d cleaned out for you to find soft cotton pyjamas that have your eyes drifting the second you have them on. 

When Eddie returns, you’re standing in the middle of the room fiddling with your hands, still a little worried about the assumption of getting into his bed when he’s not there. 

“C’mon, sweet thing,” he says, holding the covers open for you and tucking them over your shoulder when you’re settled on the good pillow, the one he insists you take every time. You watch, heart sore, as Eddie removes every one of his rings, counting the little metallic clanks as he drops them on the table. Then goes his bracelet, his watch and his wallet chain. You stare shamelessly as he pulls his shirt over his head, soft hair following the collar up, up, up, and dropping down again in a curly mass around his pale shoulders as the fabric pulls away. You hear the distinct clink of his belt, curl your knees up at the heat the sound sends through your core. Eddie wiggles his hips a little as he pulls his jeans down, stepping out of them ungracefully, kicking them off his heels. He stands before you in his blue plaid boxers, all pale tattooed skin. 

“You’ve been staring at me all evenin’,” he says, approaching you, dropping down in a squat so his face is right by yours. 

You can’t argue, but find yourself fiddling with the duvet, pulling it up to your cheek and half hiding in it to mumble into the polyester. “I like looking at you.” 

“Yeah? Well, looking’s free. Usually touching would cost you,” he says, reaching out with a finger to pull the cover down from your face and leaning in like he’s sharing a secret. “But, uh, just between you and I, sweet thing, you can touch for free, too.” Your toes curl, glancing quickly at Eddie’s pink mouth, watching his lips tilt. “Need some of my services just now?”

“Yeah,”

He hums, his big hand capturing your cheek to tilt your face to his. Eddie’s kisses are gentle and warm. You taste dried toothpaste on his lips, the lasting smoke in his breath from that final cigarette. Then, when your kisses have turned too sleepy to last, just soft presses to his bottom lip, he climbs into the other side of the bed and reaches out for you, fingers wiggling. You tuck yourself into his side, and fall asleep quick. 

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You drift to waking, gently pulled from sleep by sunshine peeking through cheap blinds and the distant sound of a barking dog. You are comfortably cozy under the sheets. Even having shifted to either side of the bed in the night, no longer tangled, you can feel the heat of Eddie at your back. 

You half snooze for a long time, eyes drifting open to take in the contents of the room. The amps and the Corroded Coffin wall hanging, a closet slightly more full than the first time you were here, a floor still messy but less littered with piles of half clean half dirty laundry. Eddie’s acoustic guitar, his writing overtop in white, THIS MACHINE SLAYS DRAGONS. 

You close your eyes again. The next time they open, the room is brighter. Turning ungracefully, you come face to face with Eddie, and huff a soft laugh through your nose. Eddie’s hair in the morning is a beast, pressed to either side of his face from his tossing against the pillow. Some locks frizzed to the point of dullness, some still set in loose curls; both types tossed over the front of his face. Reaching out, you tuck each lock back until you can see him properly, every pretty feature of his face.

You consider trying to wake him, but find yourself simply shuffling closer, tucking yourself into him, nose at his neck. Eddie hums, one arm coming up instinctively to settle over your half asleep body. 

You finally jump awake to the sound of the front door falling closed in a swinging slam. Eddie blinks opposite you, fully registering the noise and your presence together. He hums, closes his eyes again, takes a deep breath through his nose and opens his mouth wide to yawn so loud he might as well have screamed. 

“Coffee, boy!?” Wayne calls as Eddie stretches and cracks his pale limbs. He glances at you in question. 

You chew the inside of your lip. “Should he know I’m here?”

Eddie takes this in for a second, then smiles. “I mean, he’s about to, either way.”

Regret at not having asked Eddie to set an alarm rids all the warm cosiness of the scene. Your face feels hot already at the thought of facing Wayne on a Saturday morning having clearly slept in this bed. “He’ll- he’ll think we-”

Recognition dawns on Eddie’s face, and he shakes his head quickly. “He won’t think anything, sweetheart,” he tells you, leaning in till he’s put himself in your eyeline. Eddie’s expression is earnest until it shifts into an amused smile. “I’ll even tell him you slept on the floor to preserve my innocence. Score you some points with the old man.”

Eddie’s sleepy laughter has some of the tightness in your chest abating. The sight of his eyes crinkling at the sides, dimples digging into his cheeks, is a treat you don’t usually get so early. 

“What time is it?” You ask, realising it may not be early at all if Wayne’s back. Eddie grabs his watch from the bedside table, blinks away residual blurriness.

“Nine thirty.”

Later than you’ve slept since school started back up, yet even now, the thought of curling back up in Eddie’s arms and snoozing for a little longer is an attractive prospect you’re seriously considering.

“I heard your caterwaul of a yawn, boy! How many coffee’s am I making!?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow. You nod. He calls back. “Three! If you can count that high!”

The sounds of clinking mugs and sizzling oil mix with Eddie’s soft grunts as he gets himself dressed, jumping up and down to pull his jeans over his feet and searching through the closet for a t-shirt adorned with three angels, all smoking. 

He takes you in when he’s put his rings on, no doubt almost as messy haired as him, watching him from his bed. Brown eyes bright, Eddie leans in to give you a soft kiss. 

“Morning, sweet thing,” he says. His hand cups your cheek, letting you press into his wide palm. “Take your time, mm? I’ll assure Wayne my innocence remains intact.”

Your nose scrunches at his teasing, even as you turn to press a quick kiss to the centre of his hand. Eddie rubs a thumb under your eye, then shuffles out his door. Immediately, the noise of clinking plates is smothered by the exchange of familiar jabs and teases between the uncle and nephew. 

The days you’ve spent here have made you realise how special their relationship is. Not something less than father and son, but in fact something more. Wayne looks upon Eddie with the exasperated fondness of a dad, but reserves the true judgement they can be prone to. No passive aggressive comments about Eddie’s track record at school, nor questions about the way he dresses, despite the bookmarked King James bible that sits on the coffee table. He’s ruffled Eddie’s hair kindly every time he’s been here while you were doing homework, hung his latest C- graded test up on the fridge. Eddie told you Wayne bought him that acoustic guitar when he was thirteen, saved up for months to take him to a real music shop in Indianapolis and let him pick one out. 

You can see, even, the parts of Wayne that have filtered straight down to Eddie. Their humour overlaps, the way they can banter back and forth with each other, never crossing the line into hurt. Though, where Eddie can’t help but grin at a good joke, Wayne remains deadpan through every jibe. 

Wayne, when he gets talking, can spin a yarn the same way Eddie can. Stories about his nights at the factory, his old job driving trucks across the country, his youth, told not in a long ramble, but structured perfectly to have you on the edge of your seat. 

You know now that Eddie’s kindness, the way he treats you, was a gift from Wayne. His genuine interest in your life, your plans. His continual, earnest offer of food from his fridge every time he sees you. When your mom made a lasagne for you to take in thanks for all the evenings you’ve spent here, Wayne didn’t send the dish with Eddie to school, but drove to your house with it cleaned to a shine to hand it back and thank her personally. Soon after, Eddie let it slip that the daisies he brought you for your first date were bought at Wayne’s insistence. 

You’d wondered, that day at the lake, how a boy treated like Eddie is treated could be so bright and kind. 

Wayne was the answer. 

So you should be braver, emerging from Eddie’s room in that big hoodie of his he’d been lending you on and off and shorts you’d left here the last time you stayed over, no doubt still sporting panda eyes from last night. But you find yourself making use of the long sleeves, fidgeting with your fingers against the fabric. 

Eddie’s in the midst of getting his wrist thwacked with a spatula for attempting to steal a streak of bacon as Wayne transferred them from pan to plate. Gasping, he holds his hand in the air and lets his wrist fall limp. “I- I can’t feel my fingers!”

Wayne silently watches Eddie flop his hand back and forth, only a slight crinkle at his eyes suggesting he finds anything his nephew is doing at all amusing. When he catches sight of you, his gaze barely flickers from your messy hair to Eddie’s hoodie. “Mornin’,” he says, turning his back to a still howling Eddie to shake the pan. “Eggs? Bacon?”

The temptation to refuse, to be polite and pretend you don’t want anything from him prickles at the back of your mind. Only, experience has taught you he’ll only plate you up something anyway. There for you if you change your mind, something both he and Eddie say frequently.

“Please,” you nod. 

“You gonna set the table, Eddie?”

“How can I?” Eddie cries, wrapping his other hand around the injured arm and holding it up as if the ailment has moved all the way to his elbow. “With this!?”

Wanting to make yourself useful, you venture into the cutlery drawer yourself, giggling as Eddie shakes his limp hand at you, before pulling up the fold out table at the other side of the kitchen. “You’re on coffee duty then, Ed.”

Eddie gives up the routine at the prospect of picking out mugs, his eyes shining. It’s an activity he seems to enjoy deeply; shuffling over to the expansive collection and perusing them like he doesn’t already know exactly who’s getting what.

Eddie likes to give Wayne a novelty Garfield mug, something about the quiet, serious man drinking from the head of the large orange cat tickling him. For himself, a black mug with THE TRUTH IS OUT THERE printed in white letters around a cartoon duck. For a while, he has been trying out different mugs for you, showing the best of Wayne’s extensive collection. But he’s settled on a white NASA mug Wayne picked up on a trip to Houston. “For my smart girl,” he’d said the first time he handed it to you, expression all fondness and pride. 

Eating together is becoming familiar to you now. Wayne has picked up on your tendency to keep quiet the same way Eddie did, sometimes asking you questions but generally letting you decide when you want to speak without much prying. 

“You two got plans?” He asks, glancing briefly at you then turning to Eddie when you look unsure. 

“Uh, nothing solid,” Eddie says, focused on the construction of an increasingly complex breakfast sandwich. “But I was thinking about heading to Greenfield to pick up an album. I had loan of Accept’s newest record from Jeff before he remembered I had it.” His tongue peeks out at his concentration, topping the egg, bacon, hashbrown and tomato with a final piece of toast. “Didn’t think three months was too long to keep it. I mean, what’s an album between friends?”

You watch in near fascination as he manages to keep it all in tact through a large bite. He chews slowly, and swallows. “I’d welcome a road trip buddy if you’d be so inclined, Princess.” 

Your face warms at the name used in front of Wayne, but you nod. 

“There’s a good bookshop, too,” he says, clearly holding himself back from taking another significant bite. “S’where I got my copy of Orpheus.” He must see something, excitement probably, move across your face, because next Eddie is flashing a pleased smile. “Sound good?”

“Sounds good.”

When you’re all finished, dishes washed by you at your gentle insistence, face scrubbed further with luke warm water from the tap and hair finger combed through, you leave a yawning Wayne to his fold out. 

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The shop, located two towns over from Hawkins, smells like the music room at your first school. The memory hits you as soon as you walk through the door; standing in three lines and belting out an off tune Amazing Grace with another thirty kids. Playing with claves and tambourines. Eddie seems in his element here, directing you through display shelves of pop and country records around a corner to the back where his kind of music is kept. “Course, some albums I just use the cassette,” he tells you, rifling through a couple of records. You look around the section yourself, counting up the albums you recognise from Eddie’s desk, his glove compartment. “But when I love an album I kinda have to get it on vinyl, you know?”

You don’t, not really. You have your own pile of albums in your room, all plastic rectangles ready for your cassette player or your walkman. Your dad has a collection of country records, your Mom some Joni Mitchell, the Crosby, Stills and Nash records she played constantly when you were a child. Before Eddie started asking you to pick out albums you thought looked good in his room, you hadn’t touched a vinyl since your aunt asked you to put on the White Christmas over the holidays. 

Eddie senses your confusion, and shrugs. “I mean, I wanna see the album art for real,” he tells you, finding one as an example. “Not quite as effective at four by three inches, right?” You recognise it immediately as Holy Diver. Eddie has a shirt with this cover on it; a demon standing over a priest splashing in water. He was wearing it that day in the woods, when you ran right up and kissed him. He takes the record from you when you nod, placing it back carefully. 

“And there’s albums a stereo just can’t do justice to. They’re useful when I wanna skip songs. But hearing it from start to finish? At the highest quality? It just needs a record. Ah-” He finds the album he came here for and shows you. A blue background, with a chrome, blocky heart shape filled with valves and pumps. "Metal Heart," Eddie explains. "Latest, and best, album by Accept. They're this German heavy metal band? The lead guitarist, Wolf Hoffman?” He sighs wistfully, looking off into the distance. “Man, what I'd do if I got him in a room alone.”

You make an awful snorting sound when you laugh, have to ignore the delight on Eddie’s face lest you burn up entirely. "So,” you start. “Heavy metal is different from regular metal, or is it just another term for it?”

Eddie's face lights up at the question, putting on a refined accent. "Heavy metal, young lady, is a type of metal that encompasses many genres,” he explains, bringing a hand up to add to the role. “For example, one could say all thrash metal is heavy metal, but only a simple fool, would seek to claim that all heavy metal is thrash metal. Do you follow?” His character falls apart at your giggle. “I said metal too many times, huh? Note taken. You wanna listen?" 

At your nod, Eddie walks you back round to the front towards a row of glass booths housing record players and headphones. You watch his hands move carefully, treating the record with the same care he uses to hold your hand. When it's in place, he dons the headphones and places the needle, nodding his head until it reaches the start of the particular song he wants you to hear. His hair fans out a little as he removes them, making to place them over your ears until you flinch and he jerks them back. 

 “A little loud,” 

“Ah, shit, sorry,” he says, turning a knob on the record player. “I forgot. Princess ears.” He replaces the headphones, eyebrows raising in question. The volume more manageable now, you nod happily, listening to pulsing guitars build in intensity, joined by thrashing drums and eventually the telltale screeching voice that immediately transports you into Eddie’s room, the soundtrack of his life. 

Eddie’s eyes are all soft excitement, shining at you, watching for your reactions. 

If you had to make a list of all the things to like about Eddie, his passion would surely sit near the top. The way he fizzes all over to talk about music, and Dungeons and Dragons and Lord of the Rings. The way he’s desperate to share his interests with you. Not out of expectation for you to feel exactly the same about any of it, and certainly not with any assumptions that you should understand it already. Just to share, to let you in, to show himself to you. 

You wish you were more like him, that way. That you weren’t more comfortable hiding, keeping bits of yourself under lock and key lest their exposure leave the most delicate parts of you open to attack. You try to imagine Eddie using anything like that against you. You remember him leaning across the table to you on your first date, listening to you ramble about wyverns and etymology while your feet tapped your anxiety out onto the floor. He’d thanked you for sharing. Very metal, he’d said. 

Three minutes in, and you realise Eddie’s been playing the whole song in his head, because he brings his hands up to follow the chords playing in your ears with an imaginary guitar, hair shaking as he throws his head back and forth. Then he flashes his smile, soft cheeks displaying his dimples and smile lines.

You can’t help it. 

You step forward until your feet are patterned with his. You reach out for his sleeve, playing with the chains keeping the left connected across his wrist. Eddie’s still watching you when you tilt your chin, leaning towards him to press your lips to his. Anxiety prickles along your spine, but you know that nobody can see you. Even better, you know that Eddie is between you and the door, hiding you from the world. With the distinctive chains of his jacket in your fingers, his music sounding through your headphones, his lips on yours; everything around you is Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. 

Safe, safe, safe. 

He pulls away with a huff of breath against your lips, giving you a series of chaste pecks like he isn’t quite ready to stop kissing you entirely despite protesting lungs. Your face burns, but it’s worth it for the way Eddie is staring at you when you finally open your eyes. 

“What was that for?” He mouths, gaze flicking to your lips and back to your eyes.

You bring your foot up, pressing the top of it to the back of your ankle and sliding it up and down your calf. A braver version of you would say what every part of you is screaming. Instead you shrug, still fiddling with his sleeve. Eddie tilts his head, clearly unsatisfied, but doesn't press you. 

"I like this," you tell him as it finishes, removing the headphones. 

"Well, that settles it," he answers, sliding the record from the player back into its sleeve. "You're coming home with me." 

You watch Eddie navigate the shop like it's a second home. He stops off at the cassettes, rifling through for anything new, anything he might not have heard before. He grabs a couple blank tapes too, looks at you to the side with pink cheeks. "In case I wanna make any more mixtapes." 

At the desk, Eddie places everything down carefully while you wait at the empty till. After a good thirty seconds, you start playing with the rings on Eddie's left hand while his other raps against the wooden desk. "Uh, hello? Anybody- ah, shit." 

"Munson," says the bespeckled boy who emerges from the back room. 

Eddie’s fingers twitch, and you cease your fidgeting to look up at him, find his face pulled taught. "Oh, hi. I, uh, didn't think you worked on Saturdays anymore." 

"Switched to the weekend shift," he answers, stony faced. "That gonna be a problem for you? Surely you’re not still in highschool?"

Eddie frowns, hand twitching again as he sighs. "Listen, man, I'm not looking to argue-"

"Don't know why else you'd show your face. You know your money's no good to me." 

Eddie slumps, all the easy happiness pulled from him. He hasn’t looked at you once, and your heart aches. 

"I'm buying these," you declare, searching through your bag for your purse. Tissues, no, lipgloss, no, mixtape, no. 

They both turn to you. The boy behind the desk takes you in finally, his nose wrinkling. "Oh yeah? You a metal fan?" 

"Mm hmm,” you say, voice higher than you’d like. 

"Okay, name three Metallica albums."

You glance at Eddie, find him rolling his eyes until you ask. “But Metallica only has two albums, right?" 

Eddie’s immediate smile is warmth inducing, causes you to shuffle with shy pride. You thrust out the money in your hand, start gathering up the items again to place in your shopping bag while Eddie grins in the face of the scowling man. 

"Whatever,” he says finally. “I don't wanna see you around here again, Munson." 

Eddie gives him a little salute, then grabs the bag from you and takes your hand to leave.

"Jesus," he breathes as soon as the bell announcing the doors closure sounds. "You can't talk like that, sweet thing. We're in public. You’ve-" He scratches at the back of his neck. “You’ve really been listening to me talk about it all the time, huh?”

You frown. “Of course, Eddie. I like it,” you answer, tugging his hand to start the walk back to the van. “Who was that?" 

Eddie’s smile drops. "Uh, Peter? We actually, kinda used to be friends. I introduced him to all his favourite bands back in the day, you know? Then suddenly he’s the gatekeeper of metal- I mean it’s a fucking joke.” He opens the side door, placing your bag behind the front seat. “S'how I met Gareth, really. Poor kid couldn't name two Dio albums so he gets insulted buying the latest one, what the hell is that? We all have to start somewhere. I mean, when I met that guy he was a U2 fan. Anyway-” he continues, closing the door. “I told him he was being a dick and he got all pissy about it." 

You chew your lip. "He acts that way, because you called him a dick?"

Eddie blanches, his head falling back with a quick groan. "Okay, I wanna add a disclaimer that I was sixteen and dumb," he starts. "And he really was being a dick, acting like- like all those guys metalheads are supposed to hate in the first place, and-" 

"And?" 

"And I hit him. Real gentle. With my fist." 

"Eddie,"

"Sweet thing, even you woulda decked him if you'd been there. I swear. And, I just can't fucking stand that shit, you know?" 

You do know. Eddie is all gentle touch and soft smiles around you, but something changes in him when he’s witness to injustice. He'd had to miss a date just last week because he had detention, brought about by standing over a sophomore who'd dared to mess with one of the freshmen in Eddie's club. "You make one vague threat about human sacrifice and suddenly everyone's got an opinion on what constitutes bullying," he'd complained later. "If teachers aren’t gonna teach that kid not to be a cunt, why shouldn't I scare it out of him?" 

You've heard him call the whole group his little sheep, laughing like he doesn't kind of mean it. Like he doesn't think of them as weird kids he'd gathered together in something of a herd, a pack. Like he doesn't think of himself as their shepherd, as their protector. 

"Point is," he says now. "He's the one in the wrong, I swear. Shit. I can't believe he works weekends now." 

"Well, I can go in for you." 

"Yeah? You can set him straight, my baby metalhead. Fuck- didn't even say thank you. Was too busy trying to pretend I wasn't half fucking hard-" You make a soft noise and Eddie blinks, smiling sheepishly. "Sorry. How much was it again?"

You press a toe to the top of your other shoe shyly. "Can't I buy you them?" 

"Huh?"

"Like a gift?" 

Eddie’s face twists. You thought he was just being a gentleman, when he’d paid sneakily on your first date. You know now that’s only part of it. He likes driving you places but won’t accept gas money, likes making you dinner at his home but won’t let you pay for groceries when you tag along on errands. The only thing he doesn’t get twitchy about is your baking, but that’s because you’re there eating them too. You think this might further influence from Wayne; a certain pride, a refusal to accept anything monetary from you. 

"But, sweet thing-"

"Please, Eddie?" 

He watches you, conflicting emotions passing along his expression. "Okay. But you’re picking out a book. A real fancy one. I wanna see leather binding yeah? And one of those little ribbons attached, okay?" 

Your toes curl, nodding happily. "Okay."

You feel more at home as you walk through a glass door to the smell of old paper and ink. 

Joan Baez croons from the record player in the corner. The woman at the register nods as you enter but offers no other greeting. Eddie follows after you when you make a beeline to the poetry section; full of battered, well loved books with cracked spines and fading covers. 

You send Eddie a shy look, spine prickling from being watched in what feels like a solitary activity. You rub your thumb at a dusty shelf, wondering how to tell him, when he leans in a little. "Hey, you’ve been taking all my music recommendations. Anything for me to read?”

“Oh,” you say, mind lighting up before dimming at the thought of being too pushy, or recommending something he might hate. “I don’t know.”

“C’mon,” he says, leaning in more until he's all you can see, tilting his head until you’re looking into his eyes. “What are you thinking?”

You chew the inside of your lip. “Mm. Maybe- Have you ever read The Metamorphosis?” 

Eddie leans back, shoves his hands in the pockets of his jacket. “Can’t say I have.”

“I think,” you consider it again. “I think you’d like it. It’s about, well- A man turns into…an insect.” You simmer over the fact you want to share, let yourself believe that Eddie will be as willing as always to hear it. “It was written in German, and the word for what he turns into literally translates to, like, an animal you can’t sacrifice. Like, vermin?” Eddie’s watching you round off this information in a rush, smiling a little. “Kafka, the writer, didn’t want the actual animal to be specific. But sometimes it’s mistranslated and people say he turns into a beetle, or…or a cockroach,” you trail off, cringing at the sound of yourself. “I’m not selling it very well.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he answers. “Sounds suitably weird. Kafka, you said? I’ll get searching.”

Eddie disappears round the corner, leaving you to comfortable contemplation of the poetry selection. Rilke's entire works, some Wilde, some Shelley. You search for something new and land on a name you've never heard. Drawing it from the shelf, you peer at the cover, a silhouette of a bridge bathed in orange, with the Selected Poems by Marina Tsvetaeva printed above. 

You read a couple of the shorter poems, struck by her voice, her imagery. Turning to a random page, see the original Russian on one side, the English translation on the other. The title, asking the question, Where Does Such Tenderness Come From? Your heart pangs in recognition of her feelings as you read, the best part of poetry always finding yourself reflected back at you. 

You and your eyelashes - she writes. Longer than anyone’s, as if she knows about the eyes you wish you had the confidence to stare into without respite.

“Found anything?”

You jump, closing the book quickly as if you’d been reading something illicit. Eddie gives you a quick up and down look, keeping his distance until your shoulders drop their tension. “Yes,” you say, turning the book so he can see the cover. “I’d never even heard of her but I like her already.”

“Enough to kick poor Rainer off the top spot?”

You feel that strange warmth that comes with being known, the little reminder of things that Eddie has learned and remembered about you. “Not quite, but I’ll still give her a chance.” You glance down at the book in Eddie’s hands, glad to see he’s grabbed your recommendation. “You like it?”

“Seems weird as fuck,” he confirms matter of factly. “So it’s almost like I’m contractually obliged to read it, you know?”

He pulls the new book gently from your hands, retrieving his chained wallet from his back pocket. "My turn," he says with an unusual seriousness. “You want any others?”

You shake your head, lean up to give him a soft kiss on the cheek, surrounded and sheltered as you are by shelves and books. “Thank you, Eddie.”

“Nah,” he says, face a soft pink. 

Later, when Eddie has followed you perusing shop windows, and you are full up on drive through fries, eaten in the front of Eddie’s van as you listened to his story of negotiating $20 of payment between his entire band for their nights playing at the Hideout, Eddie drives you back, glancing over at you every so often like he wants to say something, but turning his head back to the road every time instead.

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You feel relaxed, content, sitting comfy on the couch outside of Eddie’s trailer. He popped his head in earlier and found Wayne still sleeping, so you settled here to read in companionable silence. You, discovering more of Marina’s voice, drifting back again and again to the one poem that makes your chest full. 

Eddie lies with his head resting on your lap, flicking through the short novella. You play with his hair throughout, curling locks around your fingers and stroking his fringe back from his forehead. Occasionally, you glance down at him, taking in his furrowed brow and eyes shining wet at a couple moments. 

“Well, that was fucked up!” Eddie cries, snapping the book shut and somehow managing to whisper a yell. “He just dies? And they don’t care?”

You close your book to focus on him, resting it next to you. You let your fingers tangle into his hair, scratching softly. Eddie, even in his indignation, tilts his head towards the satisfying feeling like a cat. “Mm. That’s the point. He was living his life for his family, but they didn’t really care about him.”

“Yeah, but there’s not caring about someone and there’s hurtling fruit at them,” he reasons. “That Kafka guy had issues, I can’t be the only one who’s noticed.”

You crack a shy smile. “I think he’s brilliant.”

“Yeah, well,” Eddie’s dimples tease you. “You’re a freak.” 

Your stomach flips at the affection in his voice, fingers stilling in his hair for a second before resuming their gentle caress. 

It hits you then, watching Eddie's pretty face, that you’re going to be alone with him again through the night, without interruption, and your throat lumps. As if he realises at the same time, Eddie sits up, hair still at angles from your exploring hands. His mouth opens, then closes again, his eyes flicking from your face to your hands where you’ve started fiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

Forcing yourself to take on his example, you ask, “what are you thinking, Eddie?”

“Big question,” he says. “But uh, I guess, I never thought…I never thought sex was that important, you know? Hell, I lost my virginity in the bathrooms at the Emerson Theatre.” His eyes scrunch closed as soon as he says it, like he regrets letting that particular detail slip right now. When one opens, and finds you smiling at him encouragingly, he sighs with his whole body. “And, I hope you know that it wouldn’t matter to me if you had been with somebody else,” he continues, eyes wide. “Like, at all. But at the same time, I’m happy I’m first, you know? Cause I know I can look after you. I can give you what you deserve. Which, again, technically should be a big fancy bed and linen sheets, but some people have absolutely no patience, so-”

“Eddie,” you groan. But it has no bite. You’re already smiling at him, grabbing at his palm to play with his fingers, heart full. 

He clears his throat. “So yeah, that’s what I’m thinking about. Also seeing you naked, obviously. But that takes up a good 30% of my brain pretty much all the time so it’s not entirely relevant here.”

“You’re so annoying,” you laugh, watching him clutch his chest in mock hurt.

“I just bared my soul to you!” He cries, watching your giggles incredulously. “Do’st thou mock me? Have you no heart, woman?”

You bury the rest of your laughter in his neck, feeling a kind of dizzy happiness that makes it hard to stop. Eddie’s chest shaking under your cheek tells you that he’s as affected, a hand coming up to stroke at your hair as the mirth fades. Turning to look at where your hands have started up playing with his fingers again, you think about what you want to say.

“Eddie,” you whisper, pulling from his neck, looking between his eyes and his forehead as you search for the bravery he has in spades, the ease to tell him that it always had to be him. 

Only, the front door of the trailer opens, revealing a sleepy looking, shirtless, Wayne. 

“Oh, Jesus, have some decorum, man!” Eddie yells, covering your eyes with his hand. 

“Evenin’, Eddie,” he says, followed by your own name. You wave, blinking to Eddie’s palm. “Get everything you wanted?”

“Yup, sweet girl bought me my very own Metal Heart,” he grins, tapping the album where it sits at his side on the couch as you wrestle his arm away. “Sleep well?”

“As good as I can.” He answers earnestly. “Just makin’ coffee then I’ll hit the road. You want anything?”

"I want you to put some clothes on!"

“No, thank you,” you answer over him, shaking your head and leaning into Eddie’s arm. When Wayne's gone, you glance up, find those soft eyes, those long dark eyelashes. Longer than anyone's. 

"What are you thinking?" 

You answer honestly. "That you're gonna look after me." 

"I will," he nods, sounding almost stern. "As long as you want me to." 

You wish it was easy to say, but all you can do is think it. 

Always, always, always.

Wayne leaves with a gruff goodbye, a reminder to Eddie that there's left over pasta in the refrigerator. You remember the first time you were here at the same time as Wayne, the almost desperate rush to get into Eddie's room the second he was gone. 

Now, you and Eddie stay, settled into one another for a long while after, until the sun has moved from high overhead to just behind the trees in front, turning the scene to a silhouette backlit with orange light. Eddie disappears, comes back with bowls of that pasta. You talk about school, and Eddie's band. He explains more about thrash metal, you tell him your new favourite German word you’d learned only yesterday. When the orange fades to blue-black, Eddie looks over at you. 

"Ready?"  

You wonder what it means, that despite the increasing thrum of your heart in your chest, you don't even have to think about it. "Yes."

He holds your hand all the way to his room, guiding you through like you don't know how to find his bed at the end. When the door is closed, sheltering you from the world outside, you wrap your arms tight around him, give yourself the comfort of hiding in his collar, feeling the slow rise and fall from his breath. 

Eddie hums, his hand coming to that space at the back of your neck that eases everything in your body that you’re used to holding tight. “How you feeling, honey?”

“Good,” you mumble. Then, wondering if he can feel the heavy beat of your heart. “Nervous.”

“Okay,” he says, fingers stroking and squeezing at your tender skin. “What are you nervous about? Anything we can fix?”

You let that thought sit. You are still learning how much Eddie means it when he says things like that. Still practising the belief that Eddie wants you to share your worries, carry some of the burden for you. The responsibility of trying to shed the weight, the disappointment of knowing some of it just has to be carried.

You’re resigned to telling him, but finding the exact reason for the nerves twisting your stomach takes its own time. With anyone else, you’d be worried about pain, about what happens if you have to stop. These concerns float away on their own at the feeling of Eddie’s hand stroking at you, his lips pressing kisses at your temple. Then you land on it, and press your face deeper against the softness of his shirt.

“I don’t know, I guess- What should I do?” You ask, voice small. “So it’s good for you, too.”

You feel his sigh from the rise in his chest, the shake of his head from the brush of his hair against your cheek. 

“Will you look at me?” He asks, waiting for you to tilt your head to find him. “You want the truth?” You nod, chin still tight to his shirt. Eddie’s eyes narrow a touch, leaning down conspiratorially. “It will feel good for me,” he starts, his free hand rubbing at your waist. “If we can get your pussy all soft, first.” A surprised throb between your legs has you clenching down on nothing, close to whimpering at the gentle roughness of Eddie’s voice. “All soft, and wet enough that I can just slide in, fill you up easy. Making you cum on my cock, sweet thing. That’s what’ll feel good, for me.” Eddie gives you a wolfish grin as he starts walking you backwards towards his bed, raising his eyebrows in question. “Think we can do that?”

It’s easy, then. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm, my good girl,” he says, holding you with the backs of your knees pressed to the side of his mattress, his nose at your temple. “Can I kiss you?”

Even easier. “Yes, Eddie.”

His lips press soft across your cheek and down to your mouth, warm and waiting for him. He's gentle with you, none of the fierceness you've felt in Eddie's kisses more recently. Like he's restraining himself, learning how you like to be touched in the lead up to something new. Your hands find his shoulders, soft cotton of his shirt, and rub at the fabric. His tongue flicks subtly against your bottom lip, but you're already desperate to taste him for real, letting him press deeper without any more prompting. 

You feel it at the sound of his laugh, the sudden curve of his lips, the huff of air from his nose against your cheek. The addictive high of showing Eddie how shameless he makes you, the knowledge that he sees you as you are. Not a wallflower here, or a naïve girl. Not an ingénue, to be taken advantage of, or protected from corruption. 

With Eddie, you can be as you are. Inexperienced and desperate in equal measure, as nervous as you are sure. 

"Fuck," Eddie breathes, pulling away only to blink down at you for a couple seconds before he captures your mouth again, tongue pressing to yours, hot and wet. You whine slowly, rising in volume, your fingers clasping at him. "S'alright," he soothes, giving you another press to your pout. His hand rubs at the back of your neck, encouraging you to lean your head into his support, give him space to leave plush kisses down the side of your throat. 

"Eddie," you whisper, softer than you'd expected. Not a moan, or even a plea for more. Just to say it, to feel the shape of his name in your mouth again. 

"So sweet," Eddie says, voice a wonderful vibration against your sensitive neck. "Sweetest girl I've ever seen- fuck. Can I?" His hands tug at the hem of your sweater and you nod desperately, helping him pull it off over your head. His lips return to your skin the second the material is on the floor, a wet press down to the softness of your chest. You feel his smile, his excited breath. He sucks, pulls at your flesh until it aches and you squirm. “Mm,” he sighs. “Can’t help it. Wanna mark you up-”

Gentle hands peel your bra from your chest, the tenderness vanishing with his tongue finding the pert bud of your nipple, treating the sensitive peak to wet warmth and friction that has your toes curling. The quick scrape of teeth makes you bat at Eddie's shoulder even as your body tilts to follow his mouth when it retreats. 

He gives the other similar treatment, groaning when your fingers drift upwards to tug at his hair. Another little squeak at the graze of his teeth and he’s pulling away to look at you. Your heart jumps at the sight of him, hair mussed from burying himself into your skin, face a light pink, lips wet and kissed dark. The way his eyes flick about you, you’re sure you must be in a similar state. 

Eddie’s throat bobs. “Wanna sit up on the bed, there?”

You nod, letting him help you up to the mattress and stand between your swinging legs.

“Need to go over something else, before we really get started,” he tells you, walking you back to sit on the bed, legs swinging off the side. Eddie drops to his knees to take your ankle in hand and pull at your laces. He sets your sneakers to the side, pings your socks over after them. He presses tickling kisses up your calves, eyes all bright when you laugh and kick at him slightly. 

Once he’s back at your height, his hands move to your waistband, thumbing at the button of your shorts. “You know that any time you wanna stop, you just say, okay? I mean it, sweet thing.” He pops the button, pulls at the zip. When his hands smooth under the denim to your hips, helping pull them down, he continues. “Doesn’t matter when. Even if I’m making this face-” He scrunches his nose up and lets his tongue hang out in a gross approximation of his expression when he cums and you can’t help but cover your eyes at the image. “What, you don’t like it?”

“That’s not what you look like!”

“That’s right, you’re the expert now, huh? This better?” He asks, stretching his lips flat and crossing his eyes. 

“Stoh-op!” You cry, somewhere between giggly and mortified. Eddie’s face settles back into its regular pretty softness, all shining amused eyes and laugh lines. 

“That’s exactly what you say to me if you want me to, mm? Or slow down or anything else you want, okay?”

“Yes, Eddie,” you murmur, reaching up to tuck a piece of hair behind his ear. “Will you,” you swallow, playing with the neckline of his shirt. “Can you keep talking to me? While…”

“You say that like I'm gonna be able to stop talking. Hips up, sweetheart,” he says, helping you lie back so he can pull at your shorts. “Nah,” he breathes, hands disappearing to drag his shirt over his head. “You’ll be sick of my voice by tomorrow.”

Eddie helps you shuffle up the bed, your head falling easy to the good pillow. 

“Never,” you tell him, arms opening to pull him in. He finds your mouth again, kisses a little more desperate, already a touch breathless. Your fingers brush at the back of his hair, soft curls between his shoulder blades. 

Eddie’s hand dances over the soft skin of your stomach, pulling giggles from you when he hits ticklish spots. His fingers edge at the frilled waistband of your panties, waiting for your hips to tilt towards him to dip inside. 

“Oh, honey,” he says with a gentle pout, fingers meeting the hot wet warmth between your legs. “Should’ve told me you were feelin’ desperate.”

Your thighs twitch at the first gentle circle around your clit. Eddie’s thick fingers, the roughness at their ends that catches the sensitive bud so perfectly with each little rub. Already your mind feels light with pleasure, body sinking into the bliss of being touched by Eddie. You’re caught between watching his hand where it disappears, the impression of his knuckles moving under blue cotton, and pulling up the courage to stare back at Eddie as he scans every twitch of your face. He grins at you when you manage to turn to him, licking his lips quickly. The little peek of his tongue, the memory of all the ways it makes you weak for him, has your legs kicking and twitching.  

“Feels good, yeah?” He asks, eyes flickering to your lips as they open to let out a moan. “Want me to open this pussy up, sweet thing? Get you ready for me?”

You like that, enough that you nod desperately without thinking twice. “Yeah, want- please, Eddie?”

“Jesus,” he huffs a laugh, his fingers easing downwards only to drag slick from your pussy back up to your twitchy clit. “So fucking good, baby. Say please again?”

Your hips tilt up, chasing his hand though he makes no move to deprive you of it. Your whole body feels hot; from his words, his voice, as much as his touch. When you chance a look in Eddie’s eyes, all the warm brown has been swallowed up, leaving his gaze dark and intent on you. You curl your fingers into his shoulder, stare at the pick hanging from his necklace, swaying with the subtle movement of his torso following the pace of his arm. “Please, please, Eddie.”

You make a high noise of protest when his fingers pull away from your bud, shivers running up your spine at Eddie’s patronising coo, the jutting of his plush bottom lip. “Like I said, no patience. Isn’t that right, sweet thing?” He sighs, pushes at your thighs to catch a glimpse of the dark, sodden material between your legs. “Just gotta get these off you, give me space to work, hm?” 

Eddie disappears from your side, moving down the bed to sit between your legs. His fingers hook quick into your waistband to pull your panties down your thighs. 

“Fuck,” Eddie breathes, rubbing the wet cotton between his fingers. “Maybe you can be patient. You been wet all day, pretty?” You watch him lean over, hooking your panties over the headboard.

“Eddie,”

He only flashes you a grin, hand strokes at your thigh, fingers digging into the softness to push your leg back. You feel the sticky split of your cunt as it opens up for him, the wave of cool air against your heat. 

“Fuck, look at her,” Eddie breathes, dropping down to his front. His wide eyes blink in near fascination, like it’s anything new to him, watching your cunt flex and shine. “You want two?”

You clench down at the thought. “Yeah.”

Eddie hums, nips at the skin of your leg as he drags his fingers through your slick. The first press inside is a good stretch, lacking the edge of pain that comes with three. They sink inside easily with a wet noise that would have you squirming away if you weren’t so fuzzy in the head, so desperate for the pleasure Eddie’s touch promises. The pads of his fingers find the spot at the end of you that he has mapped out, pussy fluttering around his fingers in protest every time they leave to press back in. 

“Feels good?” Eddie asks, rubbing his face against your leg. You hum. “You want another?” 

“Yeah,” you nod, craving more, wanting everything. “Yes, Eddie.”

“Mm. Open those legs just a little more, baby- yeah, good girl.”

Eddie gives you one final press of his lips to your thigh as he withdraws his fingers, stroking at you again to gather your slick across all three. You feel the blunt ends of his digits at your entrance, the first push and-

“Oh,” you whine, the familiar ache nothing compared to the euphoria of Eddie’s tongue coming to lap at your sensitive clit. Your hands fly down to his hair, clenching around soft curls as if there’s any possibility he might pull away. He groans, sending a pleasant thrum across your nerves. “Eddie, please.”

Your hips twitch when his fingers meet resistance half way deep, but Eddie stops his approach before you have time to register any discomfort. Clenching tight around his half buried fingers, Eddie lathes his tongue, wide and wet, from where his digits disappear inside to the top of your pussy. Your legs kick again, clit throbbing under his attention. He waits patiently for your body to relax into the pleasure, gently pulling his fingers back before pressing even deeper into your supplicating cunt. 

“S’good, Eddie,” you whine, thighs pressing at the sides of his head without your wherewithal. All you know is you can feel him everywhere you need him most. His curls in your hands, tickling the sensitive insides of your legs. His tongue on your clit, gentle sucks that feel like kisses. His fingers filling you, stretching you and rubbing just right at the top wall of your cunt to send tingles along your spine. Ecstasy builds everywhere you can feel him, from a aching twitch between your legs to a wave that passes over your entire body. 

Eddie’s name escapes you on repeat without shame. You hear him curse, feel the breath of it against your clit, as you squeeze tight around his fingers, pulsing with each peak of the high. 

You finally slump into the mattress again, boneless and tingly. You ignore the wet sound produced by Eddie’s hand leaving your pussy, focusing on how he grins at you as he crawls up your body to settle over you, eyes crinkled at the sides with his satisfaction. 

“Jesus, you’re so hot,” he laughs, leaning down to plant a breathless kiss to your lips. “Thought your thighs weren’t ever gonna let me up. Started planning a life down there, you know?” 

You giggle, but can’t think of anything clever to say back, caught up in the perfect view of Eddie above you. Pink and lightly freckled, lips dark, the entire bottom half of his face shining from looking after you until he drags your slick to his tongue with his thumb. His hair falls forward like a curtain around your faces, tickling your cheeks until you reach up to tuck it back. He leans absent mindedly towards your hand then, enjoying the warmth of your palm. 

As you caress Eddie’s face, he gives you a gentle, wide eyed look. “You still wanna?” He asks, a little rushed. “Cause we can stop right here.”

“I want to,” you answer, just above a whisper, but sounding as sure as you ever have done. “If you do.”

“Yeah,” he nods, like he hasn’t quite registered the full meaning. Then, as if he’s taken it in, “yeah. Okay. Okay.”

Eddie climbs off the bed, leaning over his bedside table to search through the drawer, hands emerging with a box labelled TROJAN and a bottle of clear liquid. You watch him fumble a little with the box until it opens, and pull out a square wrapper that has your face feeling hot, as if the presence of condoms is any more illicit that how Eddie has been touching you already. 

“Look away!” Eddie jokes when he finds your eyes on him as he pulls at his belt. “Gotta keep my modesty in tact.”

You jokingly cover your eyes, hearing his laughter along with the clink of his belt, his zip pulling open. The mattress dips with Eddie’s return, and you peek through your fingers at him before settling your hands at your sides. Your mind fizzes at the sight of Eddie naked, settled on his knees between your thighs. Your eyes trace all the ink that decorates his torso, the softness of his stomach. The patches of dark hair on his chest, between his legs. His cock is a dark pink, swollen enough that the tip kisses his stomach. Eddie drags a hand over it with a soft groan like he’s been tortured by the wait. If he registers your staring, he doesn’t point it out, focusing on tearing open the foil wrapper and pulling a clear condom down over his length with a sigh. 

Your fingers pull at wrinkles in the sheets as Eddie squirts some clear gel from the bottle into his palm, dragging his hand over his cock again to spread it. “What- what’s that?”

“Oh, uh, lube?” Eddie says, throwing the bottle down on the mattress with a bounce. “Makes it easier to, like, move I guess.”

“But-” You’d press your knees together if Eddie weren’t settled between them. “I’m wet.”

Eddie’s eyes flash, lips quirking. “You are, huh?”

“Eddie,” 

“Mm. I know, sweet thing. But a little extra never hurt, mm?” 

“Okay,” you murmur. 

“Okay,” he answers. “I think it’ll be easiest like this, probably?” He drags the spare pillow from his side, tapping your hips gently to place it under you, tilting your body up to him. “Yeah?” 

“Yeah, Eddie. S’good.”

“Okay,” he breathes, shuffling forward. With one hand, he strokes gently at your thigh. The other finds your pussy, his thumb playing with clit until you’re feeling pleasured and loose, settled back onto the bed with fluttering eyes. “Still want this, Princess?”

You stare at him, heart sore as you take in his open expression. You can see the evidence of how desperate he must be, how much he wants this. But he looks at you, and you know he meant it when he said you could stop at any time, that he isn’t expecting anything from you, even now.

This body of yours is used to freezing up, follows a routine of tensing and shaking at questions less serious than this. You breathe, swallow, force yourself to look him in the eye. “I want you, Eddie.”

He watches you, searching for your certainty. You smile, a nervous thing, but real, and he nods. “Okay,” he says. “I’m gonna go slow. If it hurts, you say, yeah? Or kick me in the balls - whatever’s easiest.”

You giggle, shaking your head at him, your body feeling loose and relaxed by the time you feel the tip of him catch at your entrance. You make a soft noise at the back of your throat, wanting to watch him but also wanting desperately to keep yourself relaxed and open. You close your eyes, feel the softness of Eddie’s sheets under your fingers.

“Sweet girl,” Eddie murmurs, still circling your clit as the tip of him sinks inside. You feel the aching stretch of him, the pleasant warmth of Eddie’s cock under rubber. He’s saying something, talking to you like he promised, but you’re focused on your breath, on fighting the urge to bear down on him. 

He must be a couple inches deep when he stops and pulls back only to press forward again and you think, for a second, you will be able to lay back and take all the pleasure Eddie always gives you, but-

His thumb circles just perfect at your clit and your pussy flutters, the new tightness resisting the slow press of his cock. It’s a sudden, shocking hurt that has your hips flinching to another stab of pain. Before you can help it your body is tensing all over, a soft pained sound escaping your throat. 

“Fuck,” Eddie says, voice rough, and that the squeeze of your pussy must feel good doesn’t even register. You can only think that he must be as frustrated with your body as you are. Not in control, but a witness to it falling back into routine, pulling taught even as Eddie starts hushing softly. The more you tense, the tighter you feel, the pleasant ache of him pushing inside quickly turning to a stinging stretch that has you clenching fists in the sheets, tears springing to your eyes. 

Eddie pulls out from you, and your chest throbs.  

“I’m sorry,” you cry, wanting to close your legs and hide away from him. 

Eddie’s warmth doesn’t vanish as you fear. In fact it grows as he leans over you, an arm coming to circle your waist. You feel his free hand at your hair, stroking it back from your face. “Look at me, baby,” he murmurs, his breath a gentle caress against your cheek. “You’re in that head, mm? C’mon out.”

The tears that had been bubbling under your eyelids spring free when you open them, tracking down your cheeks as Eddie shakes his head. He wipes each of them away with his thumb until they stop coming. “Sweet thing,” he breathes. “It hurt, and you needed to stop. It’s okay.”

His thumb strokes over your cheek again and you lean into it, resting your palm at the back of his hand as you sigh. Your fingers weave with his, everything better now that you can touch him, now that you can’t run away into your head away from his voice, so close to you.

“Wanna get dressed? We can watch something, mm?”

You shake your head immediately, feeling determined. “Can we try again?”

“We don’t have to-”

“I want to, Eddie.” You assure, hoping he believes you. You rub your cheek into his palm again. “But, can we stay like this?”

There’s a pause as Eddie blinks at you, then his mouth turns up. “Wanna change tactics, huh, Princess?” You nod, watching as he pulls away briefly to help pull the pillow out from under your hips, his hands pressing at your thighs so he can settle properly between them. You whine softly at the feeling of him, still hard and pulsing, between your legs. 

Eddie comes back to you with a kiss, lets you wrap your arms around his shoulders to hold him close, get your fingers pressed to his warm skin, playing with the ends of his hair. 

“Forgot who I was dealing with, didn’t I?” He says, rolling his hips so the tip of his cock drags over your twitchy clit. Your toes curl, the ball of your foot stroking a little at the back of Eddie’s calf as your legs curl round him. “My girl needs to touch me all over, huh?”

Eddie grins down at you, wiggles his hips just to hear you gasp at the friction of your clit, feel the way your digits dig at him, your right hand rubbing at a lock of his hair. Tension pours from your body at the weight of him all over you, the chance to watch Eddie’s joy at touching you, the pleasure he feels in tandem with yours at every roll of his hips.. 

He kisses you again, then both your cheeks and your nose and chin, peppers them in quick succession across your neck to get you giggly and soft. When he emerges, you watch each other. Eddie’s gaze flicks about your face while you count down the checklist of your favourite features; dimples and quirked lips, wrinkles at the sides of his eyes and laugh lines.

“Again?” He asks, one hand moving from your thigh to grasp his cock between you. You nod, press your digits into Eddie’s shoulder as his tip opens you up. 

“Good fucking girl,” he breathes through the first slow thrust, voice clear as day now he’s so close. “You’re so good, baby.”

Pleasant shivers run through you at the praise. When the stretch makes your body pull taught, your fingers press at Eddie’s skin, letting him feel your need to slow. When the sound of his shaking breath, the sight of his eyes fluttering at the tightness of your cunt around him, has you excited and pliant again, your fingers playing at the ends of his hair tell him that he can start moving once more. Eddie pulls back each time before pressing deeper, humming you through each new tender stretch until you feel the wiry hair above his cock tease your clit. Your hips tilt, chasing the delicious rub, and you feel Eddie’s cock twitch inside you.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, face dropping into your neck to groan. “How’s it feel?”

Your cunt flutters at the strain in his voice. This time, rather than sending warnings across your body at an unpleasant sting, your pussy bearing down aggravates a dull throb. Like pushing on a sore tooth, it’s painful and addictive all at once, clenching down again for the satisfying feeling of Eddie’s cock twitching inside you, the sound of him groaning against your skin.  

“Good, Eddie,” you say honestly, fingers stroking through his hair. “Will you- can you move?”

“Yeah- fuck,” he nods into your neck, laughing softly. “Just gimme onnnnne second. Jesus. ‘How do I make it good for you?’ She asks, with heaven between her legs.” 

Your body shakes as both of you giggle together, cut off by another whimpering moan from Eddie. “Aw, shit, don’t laugh or I’m really gonna embarrass myself.”

He tilts his head to the side, looking at you with his chin at your collar. His hips pull back, relieving your pussy of the ache until he slides forward again, letting you feel full, the weight and warmth of him inside you. It’s different than his fingers, which map out the best spots and play with them. Eddie’s cock, thick and heavy, drags along all of them at once. 

His face is so close by yours, watching desperately for every sign of pleasure, any hint of discomfort. You open your mouth to reassure him, but all that escapes is a soft, pleased sound that makes his hips stutter.

“Feels good?” Eddie gasps, nodding like he wants to encourage you to agree.

“Yeah, s’good,”

“Fuck,” he says. “You’re gonna want this all the time now, yeah? Need your pretty cunt full of me?”

Pleasant tingles of shame dart up your spine, and one of Eddie’s hands slips between your bodies to rub at your clit again. 

“Yeah? Say it, sweet thing.” He groans, hips stuttering at a clench of your cunt around him. 

“Like being full of you, Eddie,” you whine, fingers tightening in his hair. “Want it all the time.”

“Jesus- Christ, you’re so good,” he breathes, his fingers bullying your sodden clit. The ache of his cock falls away in comparison to the onslaught of stimulation there, leaving only the satisfying resistance to your cunt clenching down, the sweet fullness, the friction against your sensitive walls. “You’re so good, letting me hear you. Your pretty voice- fuck. Just for me. Think you can cum?”

“Uh huh,”

“Yeah? Like this? Just like this?”

You nod desperately, hips twitching towards him. Chasing the rub of his fingers, the feeling of being stretched full when he presses deep, the throb of his cock inside. 

“You cumming, sweet thing?” He asks, as if he can’t see the flutter of your eyes, feel your body clasp around him. “Yeah? Holy-”

Your high is a gentle thing, compared to what you felt with Eddie’s fingers and tongue. A quick rise and fall focused at the top of your cunt that shifts quickly into the numbness of overstimulation. The lasting ache is too present for anything more, but it feels like a promise, a hint of how good it can be with Eddie, if you do this with him again. 

You feel boneless and tired while he finds his pleasure, staring down at your warm, satisfied face as he groans. You can feel him inside, the twitch of his cock as he groans, the sudden warmth behind rubber. 

His body half collapses on yours, sweat slick skin sticking together. You wrap yourself around him, foot stroking at his calf, hands scratching at the back of his scalp while he tries to catch his breath against your neck. You can feel the pound of his heart where your chests press together, know he must feel yours. When they slow in tandem, beating together, you find Eddie’s wide, soft eyes. 

“That-” his voice cracks, his throat clears. “Was that okay?” When you nod, offering a tired smile, he strokes some of your hair back. “I’m gonna pull out now, okay?” He says, waiting for you to nod again. 

You take a shaky breath as Eddie’s softening cock pulls from you, stealing all the soothing warmth inside and leaving you with a sensitive, fluttering pussy. You whimper softly at the tender feeling. “I know,” he breathes. “I know, sweet girl. Gimme one second.”

Shivers run up your spine when Eddie disappears briefly to deal with the condom, a little prickle of something unpleasant at your neck. You’re only starting to replay everything you just did and said that might be shameful, embarrassing, in your head when he returns. Eddie wipes warm damp cloth between your legs. He smooths away the uncomfortable, cooling stickiness. Predictably, he tosses the cloth over his shoulder to fall back into bed and pull you into his chest. There, with his arms tight around you, his adoring gaze set on you, any shame your mind could convince you to feel falls away. Why would you dwell on it, when you can let yourself feel all the warmth Eddie brings? 

You lie together for a few minutes, tracing Eddie’s tattoos. Over and over, you drag your pointer finger over the lines forming CORRODED COFFIN under his ribs, letters on Eddie’s skin.

“Thank you,” you murmur eventually, watching Eddie’s eyebrows pull together. You kiss his chest. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Yeah?” He asks, voice breaking a little at your immediate nod. “Well, uh, thank you for trusting me, sweetheart.”

You lie together until the sweat on your bodies is cool and sticky. When the first shiver runs up your body, Eddie helps you stand from the bed like he expects you to be walking like a new-born deer. You manage into the bathroom by yourself, emerge washed and clad in cosy pyjamas, his soft hoodie. Eddie takes his turn, and returns to bed with steamed warm pink skin and dripping hair that sprinkles droplets on your face when he shakes it out like a dog.

You drift asleep with Eddie’s breath at your ear, his fingers stroking steady at your waist.

You wake the next morning to that same sunlight through blinds, the same dog barking in the distance. If it weren’t for the new ache between your legs, you might have thought you’d dreamt the entire perfect day, woken up to find it was Saturday again.

You turn yourself over to Eddie’s side, find his long bare back, pale and dusted with freckles. In a second, you’ll curl yourself around him, wrap an arm over his torso so he can wake up feeling something like the way you feel when he holds you. 

But now, your rapid pulse pounds in your ears. Even as he sleeps, your body won't allow you to say it, or even whisper it. Your throat closes up with the thought of too much, too soon. 

But you ache to do something, to let the feeling out somehow. Caught between your throbbing heart and the worries that have kept you quiet your whole life, you shuffle forward, reach out, and draw eight letters, one after the other, on the soft skin of Eddie’s shoulder. 

I L O V E Y O U

❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄❦

Next Part

[blushsani]

sincerity | c.s

⋆ choi san x fem reader ⋆ wc : 2.1k ⋆ genre : hurt/comfort, light angst, fluff ⋆ warnings : slight drinking ⋆ synopsis : when mistakes are made, a way to make things right needs to be found. ⋆ notes : hi!! this is my first post on here and i am very very veeery excited! pls do enjoy ૮ >ﻌ< ა / i would like to mention that it’s not exactly mentioned in this what exactly happened between them. the backstory is just something you can decide on as a reader (if you would like to). again, pls enjoy! <3

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"sani."

you have no idea where you plan to start as you call out to the man in front of you. your words pass your lips in a firm tone, yet somehow breathless at the same time. a mixture you can’t exactly remember ever speaking in.

it’s moments like these where you wish you had the ability to go back in time.

if you could, you know the first moment you’d return to would be the afternoon you and san shared a day or two before all this began. your head against san’s chest, san’s arms embracing you with more warmth than ever before, your mind listening to each and every one of san’s heartbeats, san’s cheek against the top of your head. the calm before the storm.

at the sound of your voice, san turns around from the chair he’s sat on in surprise. at the sound of the nickname, san simultaneously softens in the click of a finger.

was he expecting to see you soon? of course.

was he expecting to see you tonight? most definitely not.

for a second, he isn’t even sure how you got in. maybe he drank more than he thought.

but the sight of you already makes his heart beat quicker and you you you and strictly you is the only thing on his mind.

it feels like a lifetime since he’s last seen you. seen your face. don’t even get him started on the last time he got to hold you.

he tried so hard to the last time he saw you. san remembers the café you told him to meet you in through a text message. he had never been there before and briefly wondered if the creamy white and beige building was new to the city. the lack of customers could have been a sign he was correct.

you take a few steps closer into the apartment, closer to the seating area he situated himself in. san notices where your gaze is directed and suddenly feels embarrassed.

you must think he’s pathetic, san thinks to himself as it immediately clicks that you’re looking at the bottle of whiskey on the table situated in front of him. he too turns his head to look at the bottle of whiskey and opens his mouth to say god knows what but you were seconds quicker than him.

“we should talk,” you pause for a moment, “can we?”

god he missed you. he never thought he’d ever be in a situation where he’d have to miss you this much.

“please.” it was only until san spoke that he realised how desperate he sounded. he was ready to drop to his knees in a heartbeat.

you take a sharp inhale at the sound of his voice. he sounded almost longing, you’re taken aback. but you take no more time to nod your head in the direction of the white loveseat positioned opposite of san, silently gesturing if you can sit there. he nods in response.

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“i’ve missed you,” there’s a short pause, “ i’ve really missed you.”

there’s a deep fluttering in your stomach before san even finishes speaking. your first thought is to ignore him, and you do for a moment as you place your glass back down on the table. but then your second thought is going in a completely different direction, and you allow yourself to give in.

fuck it.

“i’ve missed you too.” you admit.

silence fills the air and becomes more and more deafening as each second goes by.

you raise your gaze, looking up at him as you press your hands together slightly tighter.

“i’ve been waiting to hear you say that for so fucking long.” san says with a vaguely trembling voice and eyes slowly, gradually bubbling with tears.

he hasn’t been able to stop missing you, thinking of you. hell, he was even starting to dream of you.

you were just everything to him. he was building so much with you and it began to feel like there was a physical, glowing light between you and him that was signifying how special the direction the pair of you were going in was. the bond you both shared resembled a thick tied rope that became firmer and tougher with every single pull.

it was the best thing san had experienced. you were the best thing san had experienced.

“can’t sleep properly. i can’t sleep properly all because of you san.” he could start sobbing. he could throw himself into your arms if you’ll have him.

his eyes flutter as he tries not to cry. he tries so very hard.

“what am i meant to do? what am i meant to do when all i can think of is you every single minute i spend breathing?” you start speaking and can’t seem to stop as more words pass through your lips. it’s almost like–no, it is–like you’re not in control of your mind.

the man before you is no different either. his mind turns slightly frantic and it’s just you–it’s all you–he needs you.

san’s moving before he can even think.

you could envision a string in between where you and san were seated. a thin string that was ready to break in half any second. and this was the exact moment where that string finally snapped. harshly.

within seconds, san has sat himself right beside you and has brought you into his arms. you can feel him gently scrooping you up and tucking your head into his chest, carefully digging his chin into the top of your head.

all the emotions catch up with you as the tears begin to trickle down to your cheeks.

there had been many hours of you scrolling through your messages with san, hours of you scrolling through your photos with san.

the amount of times you ended up daydreaming about san throughout your days.

the amount of times you were closer and closer to ending up on san’s front door.

the amount of nights you spent in bed just thinking about your san and thinking about how he should be beside you as you laid in bed, trying to seek sleep.

there was so much of you and your mind that missed san. you found it a challenge to fathom how much his presence made an impact on you and made you feel so at peace; you never were able to imagine any person coming into this life of yours and changing it this much.

but there was also so much of you that felt so much anger.

you were frustrated. you were so frustrated with san.

in those mixture of emotions that crept up on you, it was that deep frustration that seemed to come to a rise first.

a pitiful hit to san’s chest was the first way that anger presented itself. and then another hit. and then a third one. and then another weaker than the last.

suddenly, you could faintly feel your hands being grabbed by the wrist and situated around san’s middle instead. the movement left you positioned even deeper into san’s chest and embrace, you realise. at the touch, you shift your head to look up at san, cheek lightly rubbing against his white shirt. it takes no more than a couple seconds for san to pull himself away enough so that he can look down at you, and the sudden eye contact catches you off guard completely.

one thing you just couldn’t miss was the unwavering look in san’s eyes, regardless of how taken aback you ended up in the very moment or regardless of all the bitterness that had been taking over you the past few weeks.

there was so much love you could spot with ease in those eyes, and as more and more seconds continued to go by simply filled with you and san just unable to look anywhere else from one another, it began to feel overwhelming. almost like you were drowning. drowning in those brown eyes that looked back at you as if you had created the world by scratch.

you didn’t know it was possible for someone to hold this much visible love in their eyes, and you don’t know if or when you’ll ever be able to understand that the receiver of all this love is you.

in that very moment, all that can roll from your tongue is his name.

“san…”

in that very moment, all you can do is fall weak and find every way possible to bury yourself closer to him.

“sani.”

“i’m here baby, i’m right here. i love you–i love you so much.” san takes your cheeks in the palm of his hands, ever so lightly cupping both sides of your face.

“sani i’ve missed you,” you hiccup through a soft cry, “i just can’t–i love you san–”

you don’t even realise you’ve cut yourself off as another cry bubbles up within you.

however, one thing you do realise is that the place san holds in that heart of yours is bigger and greater than you could have ever imagined. you’re kidding yourself if you genuinely - from the bottom of your heart - believe you can live a life that has san erased from it. that’s not a life you can imagine settling in, that’s not a life you’d like to settle in, and that’s a life you refuse to settle in as long as you can control it.

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san adjusts himself, shuffling as he sits on his knees in front of you. he takes a second to widen the opening of the fluffy sock before aligning your foot with the socks’ entrance. with every movement he makes, he’s gentle. you’ve almost had to ask yourself whether or not you’re in fact a piece of something fragile like glass, because you’d think you were with how tender he is every time he’s with you. it’s apart of the already lengthy list of every single reason you love this man.

he rolls the cuff of your sock over once before giving the piece of material a move around on your foot, ensuring to adjust it so that its most comfortable.

he raises his head, gaze raising with him.

“comfortable?” he asks, taking his time as he stands.

“very. thank you.” you reply with a soft tone.

it was clear as day how sleepy you were, especially after the shower you took with san, but with that sleepiness gazing over you more and more, you were growing even more increasingly content and comfortable with every second that passed.

you could feel a buzz lingering lightly. it made your mind feel fuzzy, and all you could think about was the man standing right in front of you.

you can't remember ever feeling this secure before.

perhaps out of instinct, you reach your arms out, signalling for him to hold your hands. your signal works, and his hands are all wrapped in yours within the blink of an eye.

there was undeniably an elephant in the room. conversations that weren’t yet vocalised need to be had and there’s a mutual understanding of that.

you look into san’s eyes, a soft smile painted over your lips and while it remained just as genuine as it first appeared, it was not as bright as before. the look you find in san’s eyes as he keeps his gaze set on you shows you that there’s a lot he wants to say, and san must decide that it’s time to start saying what’s on his mind because–

“y/n i don’t–”, san seems to take a moment to think about his next words as he situates himself beside you on the bed, his hands still in yours, “i want you to know that i love you. and i want you to know that…i know there’s a lot that needs to be said and a lot that you deserve to hear and a lot i need to show you. i don’t want you to think i’m just ignoring this. please…baby please know that.”

there’s a short silence that follows, filled with you and san holding eye contact. you see so much sincerity in his eyes, it pours from him.

no words were shared; it wasn’t necessary. you nod, silently thanking san before leaning forward and wrapping your arms around his frame, hugging him.

it’s so easy for you to melt against him.

all it takes is the feeling of san’s hand rubbing against the small of your back for you to know everything is going to be okay.

you and san are going to be okay.

[justanothersanjilover]

One Piece Modern Gym Au Wip (Part 15)

A quick clean-up of the burned food later, they sat in front of a fast mixed-together meal from the remains of Sanji’s fridge and the parts he could still use from the meal he had planned. They sat at the table near the window, and Zoro smiled at his plate. The food was amazing! If he hadn't seen the burned rest and how quickly Sanji had come up with something from the - actually sparsely - food he had left, he’d said this had taken hours, if not days, to prepare.

“Why are you smiling like an idiot?” Sanji wanted to know while looking at his plate.

“Because this is fucking delicious, and I haven’t had a meal that good for a very long time,” Zoro explained, shoving another fork full of food into his mouth.

“It would have been better if I wouldn't have let the food burn…”

Zoro’s grin widened, and he reached out to ruffle Sanji’s hair. His eyes snapped up as he felt the touch of Zoro’s hand. After their forced talk a few weeks ago, touching each other became natural for them - at least on Zoro’s part. Yes, before, there were times they would shove each other or lightly hit each other, bump shoulders, and such - in a rival-friendship kind of way. But now? Zoro would always touch Sanji somewhere when they sat together - and if it was just his fingers tapping lightly against his bare arm when they talked at the Gym. And Sanji wouldn't comment on it. It seemed to calm Zoro from whatever was stuck in his mind. Sanji wasn't much of a tactile person. He ruffled Zoro’s hair now and then - to annoy him - but that was that.

“Soooo…” Zoro stretched the o for a moment. “About your green eye? I’m curious! It looks so…beautiful!”

There it was again. Beautiful…Sanji’s heart fluttered and hurt at the same time. Was he ready to talk about this?

“Soooo…” he mocked the way Zoro had said the word. “You were addicted? To what?”

Zoro made a dumbfound expression; then he laughed quietly.

“Should have known you’d change the subject very subtle.”

“I’m a natural.”

“Sure you are!”

He scratched his head and lowered his eye.

„I haven‘t talked about this in a long time,“ Zoro mumbled.

„You don’t have to…“

„No, it‘s fine. It‘s just…it‘s dumb, that‘s all.“ He smiled a little forced and put the fork down. „I was an alcohol addict a few years back and…“

„And you just drank beer! Why? You should have said no when I offered! I have other stuff to drink with no alcohol!“ Sanji stared at him wide eyed as Zoro laughed and shook his head.

„I‘ve got it under control, Curls“ he explained and grinned when he saw Sanji‘s ‘that‘s what they all say‘ - expression. „Really. One beer is not going to throw me back into addiction. It‘s fine every now and then. I know when to stop. I practiced self-control a lot and I won't let this get to my head ever again - it…I was miserable. Besides…”

Zoro stopped and rubbed the back of his neck, as if he were considering whether he should continue or not. For a moment Sanji thought he wouldn't say more, but then Zoro sighed.

“I almost couldn't get my top surgery because of it...I already had ruined my chance of a bottom surgery. So I was more than willing to end my addiction and never fall back to it.”

“Why would that get in the way of you getting surgery?”

Sanji was actually confused by that. He heard of cases where top surgery was risky or denied because the person used a wrong binder or binding method or used it too much, besides the many, very transphobic reasons and laws a person had to go through to actually get the gender-confirming surgeries - but because of alcohol?

“I wasn’t exactly suited for making major decisions at that time. Yes, I had a psychiatrist and I was on my way to getting better but the doc said there was no chance - at that time - for me to get the surgery done with the way I lived.”

“And now?”

Zoro pursed his lips while thinking and Sanji couldn't look away. Ah fuck, he was down bad for that man and Zoro didn't even know.

“I don't know…I think I learned to live with it. I mean it has his pros and cons to have a vagina as a transman,” he grinned but then realized what he had said.

His eye snapped up at Sanji to intake the damage he’d probably caused. Disgust? Rejection? Lack of understanding? But all he saw was a small trickle of blood flowing from Sanji’s nose.

“You…you okay?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Um…because… you have a nosebleed.”

“What?!” Sanji brushed his fingers over his philtrum - they really came back bloody. “Sorry! I…”

He jumped from his chair and walked over to grab a tissue and press it to his nose.

“Does this happen often to you?”

“Not usually…not with a guy,” he muttered the last part to himself, hoping Zoro hadn't heard it. “It should be over in a moment.”

“Alright.”

Smirking Zoro started to eat again. That was interesting. One more thing he could put to the list of Sanji’s little quirks.

Prev/next

First part

[claireelle18]

Falling for You - Vince Dunn

This was originally meant to be posted during Celly’s (@cellythefloshie ) birthday celebration last year, but ya know life decided to get in my way from this project. Anyway I hope you enjoy it!

Player: Vince Dunn

Spaces: friends to lovers, jealousy, one bed, autumn birthday, fake dating (bonus - “it’s always been you” & “I will always love you”)

It all started a couple years prior, their friendship. After the Seattle Kraken acquired him, he had been dragged out to one of the local pubs for dinner and drinks. She had been sat across the room from him, hidden in her corner, a pile of papers next to her laptop. He didn’t expect it, but he decided he was in a good mood and to pay it forward in kindness that night (that Irish car bomb he took might have helped with that), by paying her tab. She smiled, cheersing him as he left. 

Weeks later he was standing in line behind a petite lady, waiting for his coffee, when the barista informed him that his order was taken care of. He just knew it was the one before him to do so, so he caught her before she left. Staring back at him was the same girl from the pub. 

That’s how their friendship started, kept running into each other and “paying it forward.” After a few more times, the two finally switched information. Once that happened, the two would just give a location for the other to pick up a coffee or food. 

He knew for months that he was falling in love with her. Tricky part was whenever one was single, the other was in a relationship. He had just ended it with sweet Grace. She encouraged him to go tell her, but that’s when a guy a few years older than him answered her door. ���Uh..I’ll just catch her later,” he chirped, turning back to his car before anything else happened. Her love life was a rollercoaster, bad dates left and right, and worse guys to choose from. But he didn’t have much of a say either, as his mirrored hers. 

Like the one time she came to his place after a creep of a guy date happened. His heart broke every time she came crying into his arms, mascara staining his shirt. Curling up on his couch, occasionally in his bed, where he used to take the couch until one night she begged him to just lay there with her and both drifted to sleep as they admitted their secrets. All except the massive one.

That didn’t change anything, except the feelings he had for her became more. Which is why when she came to his door holding his favorite takeout, rocking back and forth on her feet, he knew something was up. The two could read each other like their favorite novel and know exactly the next part. “You look guilty of something,” he quipped. 

She wrung her hands and chewed on her lip. “So there’s this bit of miscommunication between me and my sister. She thinks that we’re together and her new husband surprised her with a trip out here for a week for our birthdays.” He made a nodding motion of continue. “But the miscommunication part is they want to do a double date.” She hid behind her hands. His heart started to pick up beats. 

“Did you tell them the truth?” He questioned. 

“Well I tried, but she just said she thought we were keeping it under wraps. You don’t have to do this…I can tell her the truth. It’ll be fine Vin.” She was rambling. 

“Loves. Loves. Breathe. I’ll be your fake boyfriend while she’s here.” Wide starring eyes watched him. How he smiled then yanked on her wrist to pull her into him. How she melted into him as he stroked her hair and how her small hands worked on the little knots in his back. 

Time drew closer to that double date. Her nerves didn’t go unnoticed by him, even if it was over the phone. “I should have just told her the truth. This timing is odd and I’m making you come to dinner right after that road trip.” 

“Honey, breathe. Go take a sip of water,” he said, knowing she probably hasn’t drank anything. “Don’t end up as a parched house plant.” She laughed at their inside joke, and he knew he was right. 

Vince had been on a five day road trip and would have to join them at the restaurant. She spotted him as soon as he walked into the area where their table was located. He wore his suit from last night’s game to the dinner as he had no time from the airport to dinner. He greeted her with a kiss on the temple, then turned to introduce himself to the couple across the table. 

Dinner flowed easily, where the two couples planned for dinner and a movie at Vince’s apartment. “Oh Vince I wish you’d be able to join us on our lavender trip tomorrow. I kinda feel bad for dragging my sister along while you’re at the rink.” 

“No, don’t be. I’ll see you three for dinner.” 

The trio returned to Vince’s apartment, entering upon the scene of him pouring glasses of margaritas for each of them. Evening turned into late night, and neither couple was very energetic to the idea of retiring to their own bed. “Just crash here,” she suggested to the out of town couple. “There’s plenty of space, and the couch is quite comfy. No reason to drive or even try for an Uber at this time of night.” 

He gently pulled at her arm to lead her to the bedroom. “I can sleep in the oversized chair out in the living room.” 

He protested. “No way, we’ve shared the bed plenty of times. Nothing else to it. Besides who else do you want by your side annoying you first thing on your birthday?” Her birthday being the following day. 

“Vinny,” she softly whined. He just scooped her into his arms, tossing her onto the king size bed, sending the bedding bouncing around her. He striped of his shirt, down to his boxers while she slipped her “borrowed” shirt of his over her frame. 

Morning sunlight split through his almost (because of the split) blackout curtains, which was directly hitting her face. She tried to roll over but realized she was weighted down by Vince’s arm across her waist. After minutes of shifting and trying to push said weight off of her, he pulled her closer to him in his sleep. “Lay still,” he grumbled into her hair. She huffed. “Happy Birthday Princess,” he whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine. The cheesy nickname that only came out occasionally. 

“Move your arm, you suck at pulling the curtains shut,” she huffed out. He grumbled at her but shifted enough so she could turn to face the curly haired man. 

“Better?” She nodded. The day continued on. Her sister and brother-in-law had left the apartment to explore more, and Vince had the day off. 

It wasn’t until the two went out for birthday dinner to her favorite place for tacos where he actually tried to tell her. He had thought to do it so many times during the day…like over their morning pancakes and coffee as their birthday traditions required…or when he took her to her favorite shop. Her birthday he had unlimited uninterrupted chances to tell her due to neither using their phones. 

He snapped a picture of her at the restaurant and again when they got back to his place to see a large, beautiful arrangement of flowers on the counter as she sniffed them. A soft, sweet expression on her face as she looked for him. “Vinny, you really know how to treat a lady to her birthday.” 

“All the best for you.” His heart was pounding in his ears. He stepped closer to reach in for the hug she was awaiting. Wrapped in the hug, his chin resting atop her head he whispered it out. “I love you.” 

“Did you say something?” 

He repeated, this time a bit louder. “I love you too Vin.” 

“Nooo…” he groaned out. She shifted out from under him, still being held in his arms. Her face puzzled. “I mean I love you. I realized that time when we made Christmas cookies for the first time. I was afraid I’d scare you off with that so I stuck to being friends. I have and will always love you. I understand if you only see me as a friend though.” 

Her mind raced, trying to process his proclamation as quick as she could. “It’s always been you, V.” His hands moved from around her to her face, pulling her in for a gentle kiss. “I dated others because I was afraid that I’d ruin this if I told you. It was that away game where I’d blown your phone up with messages because you disappearing off the ice and not returning for a bit scared me. I needed to know you were okay, and when you called me before anyone else I knew. And again when you didn’t hesitate to help me with this week’s ordeal…it just reminded me of how it’s always been you.” 

“You’re always my first and last thought of every day.” He pulled her in for another kiss. 

“Best birthday ever,” she whispered.