#and uh sorry for the uh. the way the photo looks kinda dark?

[safyresky]

Scrimbly Jacquelines 21/52: IT'S FUCKING MERMAY?!?! HELLO?!?!?

Yo. She turned out SO CUTE. I'm grinning like a maniac. Wtf. Who ALLOWED THIS.

yes that's deffs Dite a necklace

wanted to incorporate some warm colours bc. half summer sprite. but alas. they didn't quite turn out so now it's BLUE

the scales on her belly are her SCARS! MERMAID SCARS! SCALES GREW OVER THEM! AH!

had a whole ass crisis bc i SWEAR i wrote where her scars were SOMEWHERE but I can't fucking FIND IT. losing my MIND. in a PRISON of my OWN MAKING

update: FOUND THE PASSAGE LMAO. I HAVE WRITTEN ABOUT WHERE THEY ARE! WHEE! 9CS Chapter 14, but I think I edited the passage down. I know I have the og saved SOMEWHERE with all three scars listed)

got way too excited when I realized she could use icicles in lieu of 'shell bra" or whatever

can't believe I actually drew a hairline. i never do. wildin. idek what hairlines any of these blorbos have, i just wing it

PRACTISE MAKES PERFECT, LOL!

(we are going to ignore the outside the lines bit, yes yes yes)

i am very proud of those scrimbly hands y'all. AH

Unedited version here:

[headkiss]

give you the moon

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: had you known getting your first tattoo would end up with you being in love with eddie munson, you might have gotten it a lot sooner.

word count: 17.8k

warnings: smut, probably inaccurate descriptions of tattooing processes (i tried my best!), strangers to friends to lovers, fluff

a/n: this one took forever but it’s finally done!!!! i’m sorry for the wait but hopefully u guys like it enough to forgive me :D

༄

You’ve always wanted a tattoo, and you figured now was as good a time as ever. Having just moved to Indianapolis, all by yourself, one change could lead to another.

New city, new apartment, new tattoo.

It may be irresponsible of you, but you settled for the first shop you found, the one closest to where you lived. A short walk away, harder to back out of. You knew you wouldn’t regret getting it, you just had to force yourself to sit through it, to commit.

The wind whips at your cheeks as you make your way to your consultation. You pull your sleeves over your hands and hope that it’ll be warm enough.

Once you’ve made it, the bell above the door rings to signify your entrance. A girl with brown curly hair sits at the front desk, a warm smile on her face. The place has dark floors, walls covered with different sketches that distract you for a moment.

“Hi! How can I help you?” The girl says, drawing your attention back to her. You walk the few steps up to the front desk.

“Hi, um, I’m here for a consultation,” you give her your name and the time of the appointment. “With Eddie.”

She shuffles about for a few seconds before finding what she was looking for, “yep, perfect. I’ll let him know you’re here. I’m Nancy, by the way.”

“Thanks, Nancy.”

She goes to the saloon type doors next to the desk, you watch them swing back and forth. You’re eventually drawn back to the art on the walls, eyes scanning the different styles and images. Your hands fidget with the ends of your sleeves.

A picture of the staff steals your attention next, Nancy standing next to a girl with shorter hair, their hands interlocked. Then, there’s a boy with brown hair and a kind smile. The one who really keeps you looking is the boy with long dark hair, his tattoos the most prominent.

A second later, that same boy is walking through the doors and calling your name.

“Oh, hi. That’s me,” you reply. Then wince at your awkwardness.

“Hi, I’m Eddie,” he gives you a close-mouthed smile, barely there. He’s even prettier in person than he is in that photo. “Follow me.”

He seems distant, sort of cold and you’re not quite sure what to do with it. Your nerves pick up even more.

He ushers you through the saloon doors, then through a room with three tattoo beds that’s filled with the buzzing of the machines and the other people from the picture and their clients. You end up in an office type room, certificates hang on the wall behind the desk.

Eddie takes a seat behind the desk that’s presumably his, papers scattered about and a cup overflowing with pens and pencils sitting atop of it. You stand by the door, shifting on your feet.

“You can have a seat,” he offers, gesturing to the chair facing him. He waits until you’re settled to continue. “So, is this your first tattoo?”

“Yes,” you feel nervous and you’re not sure if it’s the prospect of committing to the tattoo or if it’s the way Eddie’s gaze doesn’t move away from you.

“Well, I’m honored to be your first,” he winks, your heart stumbling at the innuendo. “So, what are we thinking?”

“The moon, on the back of my shoulder,” you pause, but he nods for you to keep going, to give more detail. “I wanted it to be a gibbous moon, almost full but not quite.”

“Alright. Got an idea for size?”

“Uh, kinda small. I think?” You huff, frustrated with your lack of an answer, “sorry I’m not so prepared.”

You stuff your hands under your thighs so that they’ll stop twisting in your lap. You cross your ankles and look down, slightly embarrassed at the way you’re acting in front of him. You were meant to grow in the city, to be better, but so far, not much has changed.

You don’t have friends, your job is slow, and you’re terrible with new people.

“‘S fine,” you think he’s being reassuring. “How’s this sound: we can try some circle stencils on for size now, then we’ll know for your appointment.”

“Okay. Thank you, Eddie.”

“‘Course. I’ll be right back.”

His exit gives you a couple of minutes to try and sort yourself out, to calm down. You want to be able to do this without the stumbles or hiccups that you’re so used to. You blow out a breath and wait for him to come back.

The way he carries himself confuses you, his almost detached nature making you overthink way too much. Although, he’s not being cruel or unkind, he’s just… you’re not sure if there’s a word to describe it.

He comes back with a couple of stencils, some sort of solution, a disposable razor, and paper towels.

“You’re gonna have to take your sweater off,” he says, setting everything down on the desk. When you don’t move to do so right away, he stares at you, waiting.

“Oh, right. Sorry.”

You slip off your sweater, your tank top underneath riding up ever so slightly with the movement. You pull it back down and set your discarded sweater on the chair behind you.

“Which shoulder?” He asks, putting on a pair of medical gloves and grabbing the razor.

“Here,” you slip the straps of both your shirt and your bra off the shoulder you choose, turning in the seat to face away from him so he’s able to do what he needs to.

He brushes your hair towards the front of your shoulder, clearing the spot he needs. He cleans off the area, then shaves it to make sure the stencil will stick, all in silence. He’s quick to apply it, his hands gentle and his breath hitting your skin in a way that has you shifting.

“Don’t move,” he chides quietly.

“Sorry.”

He doesn’t say anything more until he’s done, “okay. Have a look.”

There’s a mirror on one of the walls, and you walk over to get a good look at the size of the circle. You know it’s only the first one, but you think it’s perfect. It looks right and you’re excited to see it when it’s actually the design you want.

“I want this size,” you say, turning to face him.

“Are you sure? It’s only the first one.”

“I know, but it’s good. I like it.”

“I don’t want you changing your mind, okay?”

“I won’t! I’m sure, promise.”

He sighs, then wipes the stencil away and takes off the gloves with a snap. He takes his seat again as you put your sweater back on, goosebumps prickling your skin.

“When did you wanna book it for?” He asks.

“Whenever you’re free is fine, I’m not picky.” You don’t have anywhere else to be, really.

“You’re not the best at answering questions, huh?”

You think he’s trying to make a joke but all you manage to say is, “no, sorry.”

“You apologize a lot. You don’t have to,” he grabs something that looks like a planner then says, “I have a spot next week, if that works.”

Eddie tells you the specific day and time, and you tell him that it works. He hands you some papers to sign and read and bring back with you for next time. “Nancy will sort out payment and stuff at the desk. That’s it for today.”

“Okay. Thank you so much,” you make your way back to the front quickly, eager to go home and try and forget the entire interaction. He certainly wasn’t what you were expecting, and you didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. He was quiet, reserved, and hard to read, but he was good, you knew from the drawings in his office. He was also intriguing; a puzzle you wanted to solve.

You sort out everything with Nancy, who makes you feel a ton better about your consultation. “You look far too worried,” she says.

“I just don’t think he likes me very much.”

“No, trust me, that’s just Eddie. He’ll warm up to you, I’m sure.”

“I hope so. Anyway, thanks, Nancy.”

“See you,” she says as you walk out the door.

That night, you cuddle up and fall asleep thinking about Eddie and his demeanor, his warm hands on your skin.

-

He couldn’t get you out of his head, and that rarely happened to Eddie. He was used to meaningless things and he can’t remember the last time he felt anything for someone.

Not that he felt anything for you. You’d only met once.

Eddie spent the night after your consultation drawing way too many moons in his sketchbook, staining his hands with ink and pencil.

-

It’s two days later when you hear from Eddie again.

Your phone rings just as you’re about to shower before bed, the sun long gone though the city stays bright with lights. You hug your robe tighter around yourself and walk to where the phone hangs on the wall.

“Hello?”

“Hi,” an utterance of your name, a tone you recognize. “It’s Eddie… from Corroded Coffin Tattoos.”

“Of course! Hi, Eddie. Was there something wrong?”

“Oh, no. No,” he pauses, you hear him shuffling around on the other line. “I had a cancellation tomorrow and thought you might want the spot?”

You hate that the fact that he thought of you makes your stomach whirl. Of course, he could’ve called countless clients before you, but you like the idea that he dialed your number first better. You twist the phone cord in your fingers.

“That would be great. Thank you so much for thinking of me.”

If only you knew, he thinks. If only you knew how much he really did think of you—it was almost infuriating. How one person could have such an effect on him when he really doesn’t know them at all. He knows that you’re pretty, and you say ‘sorry’ far too much, and you smell really good, that’s all.

“Yeah. I’ll see you then.”

“Okay, see you-”

He hangs up before you can finish. You stare at the phone for a second after putting it back, wondering if that whole exchange truly happened, if you just dreamt up the whole thing. You pinch yourself until it hurts. You’re definitely awake.

You replay the conversation over and over, wondering why he hung up so abruptly, worrying about how you’re going to act tomorrow.

Eddie called you from his office, even though it was well past closing for the shop. He really needs to get himself together. He can’t be thinking so much about his client. About anyone, really. He can’t.

His head is resting in his arms when the door to his office opens. There’s only one person that never knocks and that’s Steve. He looks up and sees him leaning against the doorframe.

“Why are you still here, Steve?”

“Why are you still here?” He retorts.

“Got some stuff to do,” is all Eddie says.

“Your mood doesn’t have anything to do with the girl you just talked to on the phone, does it?”

Of all the people he could have been friends with, Steve was the most unlikely for Eddie, and yet here they are. Coworkers, and close friends. It’s almost annoying how quickly he can tell what exactly the issue is.

“I dunno. She won’t get out of my head,” Eddie shrugs, glancing down at the sketchbook he has opened on his desk, the one filled with drawings of your tattoo. “It’s annoying.”

“That’s a lot of moons, man,” Steve says as he walks closer.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying. Maybe this is a good thing. I haven’t seen you with a girlfriend, like, ever.”

“Who said anything about a girlfriend?”

No, if anything, Eddie’s eager to get your appointment over with, to get you out of his head for good.

“Yeah, okay. Can't wait to say ‘I told you so.’ You know it won’t hurt to open up a little, man.”

Steve means well, Eddie knows he does, but the thing is it does hurt him. Or, it used to. He was used to being judged, someone the town saw as a character rather than a human. The best thing he ever did was move away, but that doesn’t mean he left the hurt behind, too.

-

You show up about fifteen minutes early for the appointment. You gave yourself far too much time, you think, because now you just have to sit and wait and the anticipation is making you more nervous the longer it goes.

The front desk was being manned by a different person today, “hi! I’m Robin, how are you?”

She talks quickly and with enthusiasm, like every word is exciting and important. You like her already.

“Hi, I’m good, thanks. I have an appointment with Eddie,” she nods in confirmation, looking down at the schedule in front of her. “I’m a little early though so… no rush.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, gives us more time to sort out the paperwork and stuff. He’s just finishing up with someone else so it won’t be too long.” She smiles at you.

“Here, I have these from my consultation,” you hand her the pages Eddie had given you to sign. You chew at the inside of your cheek as she reads over them hoping you filled everything out correctly.

“That’s great! I’ll just go tell him you’re here,” she goes through the familiar saloon doors, the buzzing of tattoo guns and light conversations slipping through.

When she comes back she informs you that he’s only going to be a couple more minutes, and instead of telling you to go take a seat, she asks, “first tattoo?”

“Yeah, I’m nervous. Mostly excited,” you give her a small smile, one that makes hers widen.

“Don’t worry! I had to take like five breaks for my first one and now here I am.” It’s then that you finally notice the ink peeking from her long-sleeve shirt, at her wrists, and on one side of her neck. “Eddie’s great, and I’m sure you’ve got great pain tolerance—I can sense it.”

You laugh, she’s somehow managed to make you feel much better in the short time you’ve been talking to her. Eddie walks out, greeted by the sound of your laughter and he almost stops in his tracks. Almost.

“Robin, stop chatting up my clients,” he says.

“I’m just being friendly, Eddie! You should try it out,” she replies.

You can tell it’s in good nature, because he ruffles her hair as he passes and leaves it there. From what you’ve seen so far, the workers here are close; a tight-knit group of people and you admire that friendship, long for it.

“Follow me,” he says. It takes you a second to realize he’s talking to you because of your distraction, but when you look up you find him staring at you, waiting.

“Okay,” you trail behind him as he leads you to the bed furthest from the doors, the one tucked away in the back of the room.

“You eat and drink water before coming? I don’t want you passing out on me.”

“Yeah. Yes, I’m good.”

He looks at you like he’s unsure, but moves along anyway. Eddie’s only worried because you’re his client and he has to, no other reason. He can’t be worrying because he thinks you’re pretty and sweet and far too kind. There’s absolutely no way.

“So, I did a couple sketches,” a couple is an understatement. “Have a look and let me know which one you wanna go with.”

You take a look at the five he’s laid out, all as you asked. Gibbous moons, both waxing and waning, some shaded more than others, some simple outlines. The one that catches your eye is a happy medium, fine lines with dotting for shading. It’s beautiful, exactly what you envisioned.

“This one. It’s really good.”

He tips his head down, “thanks. I’ll go get my stuff and we’ll get started.”

He’s not gone for very long, though it’s enough time for you to watch one of the artists at work, the boy with the brown hair. You watched the way he moved the needle, only looking away when Eddie came back and grabbed your attention.

“Gonna do the stencil like before, so you’ll need to move your shirt,” he says, looking down at his station and getting everything ready.

“Would it be easier if I just, uh, take it off?”

That makes his hands hover, paused in his task. He tries to shake it off; he’s seen a ton of people shirtless at the job and he’s never been affected by that, so why should he be now?

“Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Okay,” you decide it must be easier without your shirt—less things in the way—so you take it off and try not to worry about it.

Eddie applies the stencil just as he did a couple days ago. Gentle, precise hands that you’ll feel the ghost of for hours after your appointment, you’re sure. His head bent close as he pushes the edges down so you can feel him breathing, catch his scent for a moment.

When he’s done, he holds up a wide handheld mirror for you to get a look at it without having to walk all the way to the mirror on the opposite side of the room.

Again, you’re impressed by his drawing, and seeing it on your skin makes you realize that you’ll carry a part of Eddie forever after this. His linework, his trace.

“So,” he prompts you to speak as your thoughts have taken you away, “what do you think?”

“It’s great. Really.”

“You’re sure that’s where you want it?”

He double checks every single detail. That you’ve picked the one you want, that it’s the right size, that you really want to do this. He does so until you’re laying on your stomach on the bed, positioned so he can work comfortably at your side.

“Okay, I’m gonna do a small line, just so you see how it feels,” he warns you, and you tense in anticipation. “Relax.”

“Sorry. ‘M just nervous.”

“You’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

He manages to ease you with very few words.

The sound of the tattoo gun sounds louder when it’s so close, more daunting, but you’re eager to get started only to get rid of the anticipation. He draws a short line after giving you a quiet warning of, “here we go.”

It’s not nearly as bad as you’d expected. A scratch, a small sting, but it’s manageable.

“You okay?” He checks.

“Yeah, it’s not that bad.”

“Told you you’d be fine,” he says so softly you almost miss it.

Your head is turned to the side where he sits, and you can see him in your peripheral vision as he works. His legs clad in dark, ripped denim, the tattoos peeking through. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up to show his forearms. You shut your eyes and try to stop staring.

He works quietly, though you can sometimes hear him humming along to whatever song is playing. You don’t try to make conversation because you don’t want to be a distraction.

It doesn’t take too long before he gets to the shading, telling you, “some people find this part a bit more painful. So you know.”

“Okay, thanks.”

He’s right, it is more painful and you find it harder to keep yourself occupied by looking around. You find it harder to ignore the feeling of the needle.

Eddie notices. He doesn’t know how, but he notices. Maybe it’s the way your eyes are squeezed shut at certain points, the hand of the arm furthest from him bunched in a fist. He decides he wants to ease the process for you in any way he can.

“So, why the moon?” He asks.

“Huh?”

“Why’d you choose the moon?”

“Oh, sorry,” you don’t see him shake his head at your unnecessary apology. “I’ve always loved it, how it has a cycle. The way it looks in the sky. Just, everything. Looking at it was a way of reminding myself I’m alive, kind of. ‘Cause I can still see it. I guess I chose this one to remind myself that even if it’s not whole now, it will be eventually.”

He wants to pick at your brain more, because he thinks it must be a beautiful place to be able to describe things the way you just did. You talk like it means a lot to you and the fact that you shared it with him so openly when you’ve been so quiet isn’t lost on him.

“That’s really…wow.”

“Sorry. I kinda rambled there.”

“No, no. I’ve just never looked at it that way.”

He asks you more questions after that, trying his best to keep your mind off of the needle and on the conversation. He asks how long you’ve been in the city, then, why you moved, and you give him honest answers for all of it.

Not long at all. Because I needed to get out, to be somewhere nobody knows me.

That made him think of Hawkins, of every person there who called him a freak, who looked at him like one. He needed to get out, too.

“Alright, you’re all done, just gotta wrap it up for you,” he says, putting the gun down and wiping over your skin one more time. “Do you wanna have a look first?”

“Please,” you nod.

He likes the way the word sounds coming out of your mouth—he gives himself a mental slap for that.

You sit up and he holds the mirror just as he did before. You can't help but gasp when you see it, exactly what you pictured. He did such a good job that you resist the urge to hug him for it.

“Eddie, it’s beautiful.”

So are you, he thinks.

“I’m glad you like it,” is what he says.

“I love it. Seriously, thank you.”

“It’s my job. Let me wrap it and then you’re good to go.”

He does, carefully and with the same gentle hands that have become far too familiar by now. When he’s done, he takes off his gloves with a snap, and hands you a pamphlet and some cleaning products to use at home.

“Thanks again, Eddie. You’re really good,” you say, putting your shirt back on.

“No problem,” he flashes you a small smile, one you’ll hold onto. “Um, here’s the card for the shop. You know, in case you need anything. Just ask for me, okay?”

“I will, thank you,” you take the card from him, your fingers brush his as you do. The name of the shop is written on it in bold, sharp letters: Corroded Coffin Tattoos. Underneath it, the phone number.

You’re led back through the saloon doors and met with both Robin and Nancy by the desk. They’re talking with wide smiles and rosy cheeks, their hands tangled loosely.

“I don’t pay you two to flirt,” Eddie says, retreating back where the two of you just came from.

Robin slips away, presumably done with her shift at the desk now that Nancy’s back. She gave you a kind goodbye, and makes sure that you promise if you ever want another tattoo to go back there.

“How was it?” Nancy asks you.

“Good! I’m really happy with it.”

“That’s what we like to hear! Eddie’s great. He gave me my first tattoo, too. Robin was mad for ages and then made sure she gave me the next one,” she grins. “Anyway, let’s get you taken care of.”

You pay for the tattoo, and then, you’re off.

It’s times like now that you wish you had someone to talk to, because you’re having way too many thoughts about your tattoo artist that you might never see again and you need to know if you’re reading into things too much. You need to know if his hands linger longer than they need to on other clients, if you imagined the way his eyes stayed on you, too.

You settle for overthinking on your walk home instead.

-

You didn’t think you’d end up using the card Eddie gave you. Not unless you were calling to book another tattoo, but here you were, leaning on the wall by your phone and dialing the number.

It was just a quick question, really, but you were still nervous. You’d only gotten the tattoo yesterday and already you were calling.

You’d realized when reading the aftercare instructions he gave you, that you didn’t have any unscented, gentle lotion like it called for, and you wanted to know if he had any suggestions for what works best. You tried going to the pharmacy, but the options were overwhelming.

You ended up buying something anyway because of how long you spent there. A useless magazine that was the closest thing to you when you noticed how some of the employees were looking at you. Some girl reading way too many lotion labels.

Yeah, definitely embarrassing, and definitely something you won’t let yourself live down.

The phone doesn’t ring for long before someone picks up, “Corroded Coffin Tattoos, Nancy speaking.”

“Hi Nancy,” you tell her your name.

“Hey! How can I help you?”

“Um, Eddie told me to call and ask for him if I had any questions,” you explain. “I was wondering if he’s available for a minute?”

“He did?” She sounds surprised.

“Um. Yeah.”

“Huh. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead. I’ll put you on hold and let him know, okay?”

“‘Kay. Thanks, Nancy.”

Desperately, you try not to overthink what she said. That he doesn’t usually get his clients to talk to him for things as minor as this. Why would he want you to, then? You don’t know why every little thing he does sends your mind into a whirlwind of ‘why’s and ‘what does this mean’s.

It’s maybe two minutes—silence filled by your thoughts—before the phone is picked up again.

“Hello?”

You can tell that it’s Eddie.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you but I just had a quick question for you.”

Eddie knows it’s you; he’s not expecting a call from anyone else. Not that he was expecting yours, it’s just that you’re the only client he’s even told to ask for him. He tries to cover that up by saying, “who’s this?”

“Oh, guess I should’ve said. Sorry,” you remind him of your name, as if he could forget it.

“Don’t be sorry. What’s your question?”

He’s quick to get to the point, and you can’t tell if it’s because he’s eager to help, or if it’s that he’s eager to get the conversation over with. Nancy’s words replay in your head. Usually he makes one of us deal with calls instead.

“I noticed that for aftercare, it says to use gentle lotion,” he hums along, urging you to continue. “I wasn’t sure what exactly that meant and I even went to the pharmacy but I didn’t know which one was good-”

“It’s okay,” he cuts you off. “I’ve got some here at the shop. Do you have time today to come pick it up?”

“Yeah! Yes, that’s great. Thanks so much, I promise I’ll get out of your hair after this.”

He doesn’t like the way that sits with him. He doesn’t want you out of his hair. He wants to see you again, he’s realized, and it’s almost too much for him to handle. The way he feels about you is brand new for him—never felt before. He wants to know everything about you.

“‘Course. See you soon, then.”

“Bye, Eddie.”

He hangs up.

You leave a bit after that. Not too soon, because you didn’t want to make it seem like you didn’t have other things to do, even though you didn’t. You’ve memorized the walk to the store at this point, and it doesn’t take you long to get there. You’re greeted by Nancy once again, only in person this time.

“Welcome back,” she says.

“Hi,” you smile at her, you hope it doesn’t look like a nervous grimace. “Um, Eddie told me to come here to pick something up.”

“Right, okay,” she stands, heading in the direction of his office, pausing to say, “he must really like you.”

Great. Some more material for you to analyze about Eddie and how he acts with you. It’s odd to have someone on your mind so constantly, to try and make sense of it. He has something about him that pulls you in, and you’re not sure how, or why, but you let yourself be pulled.

His hair is tied in a low bun when you see him, his bangs and stray strands of hair make it look messy, like he hasn’t had the time to redo it. And yet, he had the time to speak to you on the phone and now.

“Moon girl,” he says, lips turned up just enough to be noticeable.

“Eddie, hi,” your hands twist themselves into the sleeves of your knitted sweater. “Thank you for taking time for me, I know it was a dumb question.”

“It wasn’t. I’m glad you care enough to make sure you’re using the right things,” he says. He holds out the lotion, “speaking of.”

“Perfect. How much do I owe?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He probably shouldn’t make a habit of giving things away for free to girls he thinks are pretty and that confuse him way too much. For you, though, he’ll make an exception. It’s not like anybody else is driving him nuts like you are, anyway.

“No, you’ve done so much already. Please let me pay.”

“It’s fine, I promise that one bottle of lotion won’t hurt me.” But this possibly being the last time I see you might, he thinks.

“If you’re sure.”

“I am,” he confirms. “I’ll see you around then.”

“Bye, Eddie. Thank you.”

“Bye, moon girl.”

You look down at your feet as he walks away, letting your hair curtain your face. You really shouldn’t be feeling so giddy because of a fucking bottle of lotion and a new nickname, but you are.

“Holy shit,” Robin’s voice comes from the front desk. You hadn’t noticed, but she must’ve walked out at some point during your quick interaction with Eddie.

You curse yourself and try to hide the smile that threatens to spread across your face. “Hey, Robin.”

“Well hello,” she’s looking at you like she knows something you don’t, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “I don’t know how you did it but he’s never acted like that with any client. Like, ever.”

You don’t say anything, biting the inside of your lip to distract from the butterflies in your stomach.

“And, I’m so glad you’re here,” she changes the subject, thankfully. “Because Eddie mentioned you’re new to the city and god knows I could use friends who don’t work here and I wanted to know if you wanted to come for drinks sometime?”

Eddie spoke about you? Robin wants to be your friend? You can’t wrap your head around either of those things. It’s been so long since you’ve hung out with someone who wasn’t family. And even then, it was tiring, not fun.

You realize she’s still waiting for an answer when she clears her throat.

“Sorry, um. Yeah, that would be nice.”

“Yay!” She cheers. “What’s your number? I’ll call you next time there’s plans.”

You write it down on a scrap piece of paper for her, and she beams at you when she takes it.

“Eddie‘s gonna be thanking me for this one later,” she teases. “I think we’ll be great friends.”

You look at her smile, at her crooked tie that rests atop an oversized button up. You think she might be right about that.

-

As soon as you leave Robin and Nancy go to Eddie’s office. An intervention of sorts. They walk in without knocking (the door was open anyway) and stand in front of him with some look.

He’s pretty sure he knows why they’re both staring at him with knowing smiles, but he tries to ignore them and busy himself with some sketches.

Robin’s not having it, so she sits in the chair across from Eddie, kicking her feet up onto his desk.

“What do you want?” He sighs.

“Um, hello? Are we not gonna pretend that you weren’t flirting with her in your own, weird, Eddie way?” Robin starts.

“Dunno what you’re talking about.”

“Come on,” Nancy joins the conversation, on Robin’s side as always. “You’ve never told a client to ask for you, or given them free stuff.”

“Yeah! And, you were all ‘see you around, moon girl, hey let me stare at you and then not do anything about it,’” Robin lowers her voice, imitating him very inaccurately.

“I don’t know. She was nice, that’s all.”

“Nice enough to break your little rule of being mister nonchalant. I think you like her,” she’s right, but Eddie doesn’t even want to admit that to himself, let alone his friends.

He doesn’t say anything, shifting in his seat. He knows they both mean well, but he doesn’t know what to think and an ambush isn’t necessarily helping that. The pit in his stomach he’s had since he realized he might never see you again hasn't lessened, and the memory of your perfume or the feeling of your skin hasn’t faded.

So, maybe you did have an effect on him, but it doesn’t matter anymore. It didn’t matter in the first place because he wouldn’t let it.

“Look, Eddie, we’re not trying to make you admit anything,” Nancy says, “we just noticed that you acted differently with her. Steve did, too, I’m sure. And it was a good different. You seemed less guarded, I guess.”

“What she said!” Robin adds.

“Yeah, thanks guys, but it’s nothing, okay?”

They share a look, one that Eddie doesn’t understand but he’s gotten used to their silent communications over time. He scratches at the back of his neck, nervous about what they’re thinking.

“Anyway, I got her number,” Robin says, holding the small paper you wrote on for Eddie to see.

He grabs it, staring at your handwriting and the small heart you added next to your name. He fights a smile at the sight of it, cute and lopsided and though he doesn’t know you well, it’s very you.

He clears his throat, handing the paper back. “I’ve got her number on file already.”

“It’s not for you! It’s for me and Nance. We’re gonna be friends,” she grins, proud.

“We’re probably gonna invite her next time we go out, and wanted you to know. Just in case you care,” Nancy says, explaining.

Just in case you care.

He does care, he thinks. He cares way too much for someone he’s met three times and knows very little about. He knows you’re pretty, you apologize a ton, you fidget with your hands when you’re nervous, and you like the moon.

He knows that he cares what you think about him, and that when you called the tattoo he gave you beautiful, it meant more to him than most compliments do. ‘Cause it was you who said it. It’s too much for him.

Maybe he’ll skip out on the next outing.

“That’s nice,” he settles for.

“She’s new to the city and she’s cool. Don’t you think, Eddie?” Robin asks.

He swipes her boot-clad feet from his desk in response.

“We just don’t want you to hold yourself back, that’s all. You never go on dates or anything, even though you’ve had many chances,” Nancy says, softer now that she sees Eddie’s mind is full.

“Thanks for caring, you guys, seriously. But I’m fine. I like being single.”

“So, just be friends with her, then,” Robin suggests.

Her and Nancy leave him alone after that, his mind a bigger mess than before and it’s completely surrounding you. He doesn’t understand how someone could make him rethink everything like he is.

I like being single, he’d said.

And yet, when he imagines going on a date with you, giving you flowers, complimenting your dress or your hair, he’s not sure how true that statement is.

-

Your days drag by. You work in a small café, and whenever you’re not there, you’re either wasting away hours in your apartment or taking aimless walks. It’s a never-ending cycle, a carousel spinning round and round.

The only eventful thing that happened to you (other than your new tattoo) was accidentally spilling coffee all over yourself at work and having to stick out the rest of your shift in wet clothes. Not necessarily something you want to remember.

You’re beginning to lose hope that Robin will ever use your number.

It shocks you when your phone finally rings. You try to convince yourself it’s telemarketers, a wrong number, anything not to get your hopes up. Lucky for you, it actually is Robin.

“Hello?” Is your automatic word when you pick up.

“Hi! Listen, I’m so sorry it took so long to call,” she doesn’t have to say it to know it’s her. Robin has a very distinct way of speaking; rushed and animated. “So, I actually lost the paper. Silly me! But, then I found it and I had to convince the others to want to go out. Anyway, you wanna come?”

“Hi, Robin. That’s okay,” you find yourself smiling. Your first real one in a while. “When?”

“Oh! I forgot to say. Tonight?”

“I can do that,” you try to sound excited, you hope she can tell.

“Perfect! Do you have a pen and paper? I’ll tell you the place.”

You reach for your notepad and pen and do your best not to drop the phone in the process. Somehow, you manage.

“Yep, ready.”

She rambles off an address, a meeting time, and then, “shit. Boss is coming, better act like I’m working. Bye!”

She hangs up, and you know who she means when she says ‘boss.’

You’ve been trying your best not to think of Eddie, but it’s easier said than done. You constantly think you see him in crowds that pass by. A head of long, curly hair here, a worn leather jacket there. It’s confusing and almost embarrassing.

This boy who you barely know, taking up so much space in your life.

You’re reminded that you’ll most likely be seeing him tonight, as long as you’re right in assuming that by ‘the others,’ Robin meant her coworkers. The thought makes you nervous, makes your stomach do things you aren’t used to.

Despite the time you had between the phone call and when you had to leave, you’re in a hurry to get ready. Picking your outfit was the hardest part, because you’d never been to the place before. You decided on a dress that was simple enough, a denim jacket that you’d probably end up taking off (you get warm when you drink), and your trusty Doc Martens.

Your makeup is a little messy, but you don’t have enough time to fix it so you act like the smudged eyeliner was purposefully done. Your hair was left down.

Walking through the doors of the bar, you’re a couple minutes late and a little out of breath from your rushing. You look around in search of a familiar face when waving catches your eye.

It’s Robin, who’s waving the most obviously, her arm swinging back and forth until Nancy pulls it down and says something to her. Probably telling her you’ve seen them and she can stop. It’s sweet.

You make your way through the crowd towards the booth they’d secured. The boy, who’s introduced to you as Steve, is sitting in the corner on one side, Robin and Nancy on the other. Eddie’s absence is noted, and you guess you must’ve looked confused because Robin spoke up and said, “he’s just in the bathroom.”

She beckons you to sit with her and Nancy, and you fall into conversation easily. Even Steve is easy to talk to and you’ve only just learned his name. Sometimes you worry you’re intruding in their group, an outsider. In a way, you are, because you don’t work with them nor have you been friends with any of them for a long time, but they have yet to make you feel that way.

It’s a far cry from the friends (or lack thereof) you had back home, in the best way possible.

When Eddie comes back, the first thing he sees is you. He’s shocked. Not because you’re there—he was well aware of you being invited—but because you look like you belong with his friends. You fit right in, and you aren’t even trying. Then, he notices your dress and he wishes he could ignore the feeling he gets.

He’s painfully aware of how pretty you are, and when you look over, as if feeling his eyes on you, you give him a small smile and wave. He walks over and slides into the booth next to Steve as casually as possible.

“You look nice,” he says. It’s the best he can come up with.

“Thank you.”

The two of you are too busy looking at each other and trying to figure out what to say when the others share some kind of look. Knowing.

Your nerves pickup when Eddie’s around and you scold yourself for it. You have no business feeling anything towards him, and yet, his very simple compliment will be the root of your daydreams for days to come.

“I’m gonna get a drink,” you think you need one. “What’s everyone else want?”

“I’ll help you bring them,” Robin says.

You both stand, and everyone tells you what they want. You make your way to the bar and wait your turn. The feelings you have towards Eddie are confusing, and you’re not exactly sure what they even are. Intrigue, attraction, tension. Whatever it is, it’s unfamiliar.

Robin leans on the bar beside you, noticing you looking towards Eddie before even you do. When you pry your eyes away, she’s smirking at you.

“He likes you, you know?”

“Who, Eddie?” You ask even though you know that’s who she’s talking about. “No, he doesn’t. I actually think he dislikes me.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding. I’ve never seen him act like he does around you, and I’ve known him a really long time. Seriously.”

“He’s just being nice,” that’s all it is, you’re convincing her as well as yourself.

“Please. I know he’s hard to read and seems kind of closed-off, but he’s warmer towards you than most people. He barely even talks to clients, usually.”

Everything she’s saying, you can tell she thinks is true, but if you let yourself think it, too, you’d be absolutely fucked. Your mind would go wild with scenarios and imagining what could happen. You’re doing enough of that as is.

“I don’t know, Robin.”

“You’ll see, trust me.”

Unbeknownst to you, a very similar conversation is happening back at the table. Steve and Nancy are trying to knock some sense into Eddie, to get him to realize it’s okay to let someone else in. He denies it all just as you did, his head a mess.

He realizes that you’re not his client anymore, you’re here as a possible friend, and it scares him. There’s no guise to hide under with his urge to care for you.

When you and Robin return with the drinks, you’re the one who hands Eddie his, and when his fingers brush against yours, just barely, he feels them tingle even after the contact ends.

You loosen up a little bit as the night goes on, and you do end up taking your jacket off. The spaghetti straps of your dress leave your tattoo exposed, and Eddie can’t help but look at it. He’s always proud of his work, but seeing it on you is different for him. He likes that his mark is on you.

Nancy and Robin leave first, walking out leaned into each other. The rest of you follow shortly after, Steve slipping out after a quick goodbye. When you stand, you stumble slightly. Eddie catches you, a hand wrapped around your upper arm.

“Let me walk you home,” he says, his hand trailing down your arm lightly before he pulls away completely.

“That’s okay, Eddie. Really.”

You put your jacket back on and struggle to find one of the sleeves, your arm reaching back awkwardly. Once again, Eddie’s quick to help you, pulling your jacket over and guiding your arm to the right spot. You thank him quietly.

“C’mon, it’s dark out.”

“You’re not gonna let me say no, are you?”

He shakes his head, that small smile you so rarely see making an appearance.

The walk is quiet for a bit, the chilled air of the night nipping at your skin, your arms pulling your jacket tight to your chest. He falls into step next to you easily, pace matching yours so he stays right next to you.

He can tell you’re cold, and he resists the urge to throw an arm over your shoulders and pull you closer to warm you up. It’d be weird, he thinks. You barely know him and he’s sure you’d much rather be walking with one of the girls right now than with him.

“Sorry for, like, intruding in your friend group.”

Though you haven’t felt like an outsider, you do feel bad about worming your way into their group that seemed to have stayed the same for so long. You feel bad for the change you caused, the shift.

“What? You’re not,” he says.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, moon girl. I am.”

He knows he might not be the most welcoming person, but he doesn’t mind having you around, really. What he minds is the confusion that comes along with it, which isn’t your fault at all. That’s on him.

“Okay. Thanks for letting me come, then.”

“I think Robin would have smacked me if I didn’t. Besides, you’re nice to have around.”

He doesn’t know if it’s the few drinks or if it’s just a fluke, but the bit of honesty slips out of him with ease. Eddie’s not a trusting person, he’s been through too much for that, but he has never once felt like you were judging him.

The rest of the walk to your apartment is filled with light conversation and small, awkward silences. Having him next to you does make you feel safer, though. You never know what could happen.

He walks you all the way up to your door. You pull out your keys and fiddle with them, your hand shakes when you try to insert it into the lock. You miss a couple of times and feel the embarrassment scorch you. You don’t know if it’s the cold, or the drinks, or if it’s him making your hands unstable. Maybe it’s all of the above.

Yet again, Eddie helps you. He comes up behind you, his chest hovering over your back, close enough to feel the heat of his body, not close enough to touch.

“Here, sweetheart” he wraps his hand around yours and guides the key into the slot, the pet name slipping out without him noticing.

You do notice, though. He says it so softly, and you think it’s your favorite word that’s come out of his mouth so far. It has your heartbeat picking up, a steady thump in your chest.

“Thanks,” you breathe out.

You turn around, leaving the key in the door for now. He’s much closer than you were expecting and he doesn’t back away. Your back against your door, your nose almost touching his.

Then, something shifts, and he’s leaning in and kissing you.

It takes you a second to get over your initial shock, but you recover quickly, winding your arms around his neck and kissing him back. He makes a sound against your mouth when you do, pressing you further into the door. He has a thigh between yours, his hands holding your waist tightly.

He kisses you like he means it, and you forget about everything else. You forget that this Eddie is the same one who puzzles you so much, that not long ago you were convinced that you’d never see him again. And yet, he’s here, kissing you sick in your hallway.

He sucks at your bottom lip, pulling away and letting it snap back into place, opening his eyes to look at you for a second, then he dives back in. Soon enough, he’s licking along the seam of your lips to open you up, and his tongue has your knees weak.

When you whimper into his mouth, he tenses.

He’s snapped back into reality, realizing that he just made out with you against your door. He pulls away, pushing his fingers into his hair. There’s a sudden change, though this one feels much worse than the one where he kissed you.

There are too many things in his head. Thinking he shouldn’t be doing this or that you’ll hate him for it. You’re about to open your mouth and ask him what’s wrong when he speaks first.

“Fuck. I’m sorry,” he steps back until he’s against the wall opposite from you. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Eddie-”

“No, shit. I’m sorry. Good night.”

He’s walking away before you can say anything else. You stand frozen for what could be minutes before finally letting yourself into your apartment. Closing and locking the door behind you, you lean your forehead against the wood and wonder what the fuck just happened.

You’re not sure what you did wrong to make him have to leave so suddenly, and you know it’ll torment you constantly. Replaying in the back of your mind. The worst part is, you were ready to invite him inside, to let him do whatever he wanted with you. He was gone before you could even get there.

Eddie feels awful for leaving the way he did, and he thinks about turning around and knocking on your door the whole way home. He never does, though. He’s sure you don’t want to see him.

You both have a fitful sleep that night. Blocks away, both tossing and turning in bed with that kiss plaguing your minds.

-

Robin and Nancy’s calls grow more frequent over the following couple of weeks, and in turn, so do your encounters with Eddie. You’ve become closer, would like to say you’ve become friends, even. Though, nothing like the kiss that the two of you choose to ignore happens again.

You chalked it up to his tipsiness, he tries to forget it altogether.

It’s not because it was bad, or unwanted. It’s quite the opposite, actually. Eddie’s so used to kissing meaning absolutely nothing, leading to more every single time. Your kiss, though, was completely different. It made him feel more than he knew he was capable of.

He’s surprised that you have yet to say something about it, especially considering the way that he left. It’s a two way street; he doesn’t bring it up at all, either.

He wants to. He wants to be able to explain himself to you, to tell you why he had to pull himself away so quickly. Only, he’s not sure how. He doesn’t know how to explain the way he finds himself drawn to you, the reason he kissed you, or the feeling that runs through him every time you lock eyes. If he can’t even make sense of it himself, how is he supposed to make sense of it to you?

He can’t even bring himself to tell anyone about it because he knows, as much as they try, it won’t help.

Tonight, you’re all piled on the couches in Steve’s apartment (it’s the nicest one) eating pizza straight from the box and chatting. It’s nice to be a part of a true friend group. You’ve never had anything like it before.

“Eddie, you left your guitar here, you know?” Steve says.

He plays guitar? Fuck.

“Shit, yeah. I did.”

“You know what that means,” Robin draws out the last word, shimmying her shoulders.

“No. Absolutely not,” Eddie shakes his head.

“Please! Serenade us, Eddie.”

They go back and forth for a bit and your gaze switches between the two of them like you’re watching a game of ping pong.

“I’d like to hear you play,” you pitch in.

Robin—of course—wears a smirk. She’s been trying to get the two of you together since she saw how you interacted, and she knows Eddie won’t say no to you. He couldn’t if he tried.

“Really?” Eddie asks softly.

“Yeah. I didn’t know you played,” you shift in your seat, “I’d love to hear it. If you want.”

He fiddles with his guitar pick necklace, which you catch. Maybe that should’ve been a dead giveaway that he’s a musician, but you’d never noticed it before, usually hidden by the collar of his shirt.

Eddie’s not usually a nervous person, but the prospect of you listening to him play has him feeling that way. He’s never worried so much about how someone looks at him, or what they might think. With you, he worries because he wants to impress you, he’s realized.

“Yeah, okay. Just for you, I’ll go grab it.”

Just for you. You turn your face away to try and hide how it affects you.

He asks Steve where he left it, and goes off to retrieve it. You watch him walk away until he disappears behind a corner. There’s something about him that pulls you in, something you wish you could figure out. You know you like him, it’s quite obvious, but it’s the kind that has thoughts of him crowding your mind and that has you overthinking every word.

“You guys are paining me, I hope you know,” Robin says.

“We’re just friends. Seriously.”

“Are you sure about that?” Steve adds on. Nancy tends to just observe when the topic of you and Eddie is brought up. She’s a rational person, and she’s trying to let it work itself out naturally. Though, she’s sure it will work out eventually. Hopefully sooner than later.

Eddie comes back before you can manage a reply, holding an acoustic guitar decorated with messy, white, painted-on lettering that says ‘this machine slays dragons.’

He sits down and tunes the guitar first, focused on his task. It gives you a chance to look at him closely, lets you get away with it because the others are watching him, too. Waiting for him to start to play. When he does, you’re transfixed.

Your eyes don’t stray from him at all throughout the song he plays. His fingers move with so much ease, his rings catching the light. It’s no surprise that he’s talented with his hands, just look at the art he creates on people’s bodies everyday. But, this is another layer to it, a piece of him that made you want to see more. Made you want to collect every jigsaw piece until you had the whole image.

You think you could listen to him play for hours on end and never get tired of his strumming. Yeah, you really do like him.

When he finishes, everyone gives him a round of applause, and he hopes his hair does enough to cover up the blush that blooms on his cheeks. He looks to you first, and you’re beaming, looking at him like he’s just done something groundbreaking.

“That was amazing, Eddie,” you say.

“It’s nothing special,” he replies.

“It is. You’re really talented,” you sound so sincere it squeezes his heart in a fist. “Double talented, actually.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.”

He lets it slip again, and you soak it up. Eddie tries to avoid the looks from his friends, especially after the pet name. Surely, they’re all wearing smug smiles and plotting ways to talk him into giving whatever the thing between the two of you is a go.

He sets the guitar aside, clearing his throat amidst the awkward silence. You look at your lap and frown at the run in your tights that you just noticed, avoiding being the first to say anything.

Every new detail you learn about Eddie only makes you like him more. You’re still not sure if he even considers you a friend, but you certainly consider him one. You would ask but decide to save yourself the stress of having to bring it up. The worst part is, the idea of him not liking you hurts more than you’d like to admit.

The silence is eventually broken, and the floodgates of conversation have opened back up. You and Eddie both let out a breath of relief, synchronized in secrecy.

When you get up to leave, Eddie suddenly has the urge to go, too, and he offers to take you home. Much like the time before, he doesn’t let you decline the offer. He’s just being nice, you think to yourself, he would do it for anyone.

This time, he drove, and he opens the passenger door for you when you reach his car. It smells like him inside, sandalwood, something sweet, the underlying smokiness of cigarettes that you don’t mind when it comes to him. He has a pair of dice hanging from his mirror, though they’re twenty-sided instead of your average six.

“You’ll have to give me directions back to yours,” he says, starting the car. “I remember the area, but…”

Yes, he remembers the area all too well. It’s where he lingered after he sprung a kiss on you and then walked away. It’s where he jerked himself around mentally trying to decide whether he should go back to you or just go home.

“Don’t worry, I can be your map.”

The drive is silent save for the music humming through the speakers and your occasional instructions on which turns to take. It isn’t awkward, you don’t think. It’s comfortable in the way that you don’t feel the need to fill it.

One of Eddie’s hands reaches out and lightly tugs on your skirt, “this looks really nice on you.”

He pulls it away after he says it and you wish he didn’t.

“Oh,” you look down at the fabric, something you’ve owned for years, worn when you can’t figure anything else out. It’s never been anything special, but now, you feel like it might be. “Thank you.”

Eddie feels inclined to compliment you all of the time, he’s learned, but he often lets them float in his head rather than say them to you.

He parks on the street by your apartment complex soon after, but you don’t get out right away. You unbuckle your seatbelt and place a hand on the door, but he stops you.

The sight of your building has him thinking about the night you kissed for what feels like the thousandth time. He wants to kiss you again and he clenches his fists to ground himself. If you’re any bit as torn up about it as him, he wants to know. He also wants to try and explain himself to you, even if he still isn’t sure how.

“Hey. About that night,” he doesn’t have to specify. You know exactly what he’s talking about. Your hand lets go of the door handle, settling in your lap. “I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“You are?”

You don’t want him to be sorry, or to feel bad about it. You only want to know what you did to scare him off the way you did. You also want him to kiss you again.

“Um, yeah. I shouldn’t have just sprung onto you like that.”

“Why did you?” Is what you say next.

“I dunno. You just looked so pretty, and I had the urge. The drinks gave me the strength to do it, I guess.”

He hadn’t been drunk, not one bit, but he doesn’t want to use the alternate explanation just yet. He doesn’t want to say ‘I kissed you because you confuse me more than anyone else. Because I’ve never felt so bent out of shape because of one person. Because you were looking at me like you wanted me to, and I can’t say no to you.’

He could, but he doesn’t want to.

“You think I’m pretty?”

He nods, almost ashamed about it.

“I think you’re pretty, too, Eddie,” his eyes lock onto yours, “and I’m not sorry you kissed me at all.”

“What?”

“I liked kissing you. I was going to ask you if you wanted to come inside before you left.”

You don’t know where your candidness is coming from, but you can’t stop yourself anymore. You’ve wondered and wondered what could’ve happened that night had he stayed, and by the way his gaze flicks down to your lips, you think you might find out.

The car suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker, when he asks, “does that offer still stand?”

You nod, he shuts off the car. You both get out, walking up to your place in a sort of haze. Neither of you know what will come from any of this, you’re going in blind and it’s as exciting as it is nerve-wracking.

Things slow down once you’re inside. It’s as if a fog has cleared and now, you’re both painfully aware of everything you’re doing, or saying. His eyes flit around your apartment in silence, looking at your bookshelf, noting the lack of personal photos.

You cut in before he can comment on your place, “can I get you anything? Water, or…”

When he responds, it’s not to your question. Instead, he asks you one: “how’s your tattoo healing?”

He’s been curious about how you’re feeling with it ever since he caught glimpses of it that night at the bar. You pause by your small kitchen island, looking him over before you can manage to reply.

“Oh. Good, I think,” you shrug a shoulder, “I don’t know enough about tattoos but it hasn’t bothered me much.”

“I can look at it, if you want.”

“Are you sure?”

You say it as if he would be going through lots of trouble to do so, when in reality he’s using it as an excuse to get his hands on you. Tattoos are familiar, not foreign the way his feelings for you are. It’s an excuse to ease himself into whatever this is.

“‘Course I am, let me see.”

“Okay. Light’s better in the bathroom.”

He follows you into your bathroom, and you wish you’d taken into account how small it is because you’re forced to be close to him and it’s making you nervous. The anticipation and unknown a flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Shirt off,” he says, his voice smooth.

You listen, because it’s hard not to when he sounds the way he does. You turn to face the mirror and peel your shirt away, tossing it to the ground when you do. You’re suddenly very aware that your bra isn’t the nicest you own, and your instinct is to cover it with your arms.

Eddie stops you, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror, his hands wrapping around your wrists gently, pulling them down. “Don’t you dare. You’re beautiful.”

He looks away after he says it, but you can tell he means it. It’s in the way he makes sure you’re looking at him when he speaks, the way he squeezes your wrists reassuringly before letting them go.

For a second, he forgot why you’re even in the position you are. He forgets that he’s meant to be looking at your tattoo until you say, “how is it?”

“Right, yeah,” he looks it over, and he’s satisfied to see that it looks exactly how it should at this stage. “Really good, actually. You’re doing a great job.”

The compliment warms your insides.

“Thank you.”

“Want me to clean it for you?”

“Sure, thanks.”

He does, disinfecting it first, after finding your products on your counter. He’s gentle as usual, his hands a welcome feeling. Then, he applies the layer of lotion slowly, almost like he’s trying to tease you. It’s working.

His hands trail down your arms when he’s done, his head dipping down to press a kiss on the top of your shoulder. The first one is soft, a barely-there push of his lips against your skin. The next is a bit firmer, his confidence growing with each one.

They trail over the curve of your shoulder, his hands still running their paths up and down your arms, raising goosebumps in their wake, his chunky rings cold. He kisses his way up your neck, your head lulling to the side to grant him more access and your eyes fluttering shut.

Everything he does is filing you up more and more and he’s barely even begun.

“Eddie,” you sigh when he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

He has no idea what’s come over him, but there’s no hiding the effect you have over him anymore. As soon as he got his hands on you, even just to clean your tattoo, he knew he’d be addicted.

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, yes, it’s- feels nice.”

You would be overthinking if you weren’t so distracted by the feeling of his lips on your skin. And when he uses a hand to tilt your face towards his and kisses you, you’re not sure there’s a single thought left in your head.

There’s something about him that makes everything more intense. You feel like all of your senses are captured by him and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. The smell of his cologne, the taste on his tongue, the feeling of his hands on you and his long hair tickling your skin. All of it.

Eddie pulls away to let the both of you breathe only when it’s absolutely necessary. He’s drunk on every kiss he gets from you and he doesn’t mind one bit. He wonders what you’re like in bed, what sounds you’d make for him, and he can’t stop himself from asking, “can I fuck you?”

The words are spoken between heavy breaths, puffed out against your lips.

“Yes. Please.”

Please, you say. As if you would even have to beg him. You have no idea what you’re doing to him and it only makes him want you more. He pushes his hips against your ass, letting you feel how hard he is and you whimper, you fucking whimper and he’s so gone.

He pushes you down to bed over the counter with a hand on the center of your back, and you obey easily. You’re practically squirming with want, the dampness in your panties growing with every move he makes.

Then, he flips your skirt up, his hands running over the tights that cover you before ripping them in the middle.

“I’ll buy you new ones,” he says.

He keeps a hand on your back, though its drifted much lower, and the other sneaks its way between your legs, cupping you over your underwear before pressing his fingers against you. You can't help but moan at the feeling.

“Soaking already, sweetheart?” He taunts.

“Eddie, come on.”

“What is it?”

“You’re teasing me,” you huff out, your cheek pressed against your cool countertop.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

He hooks his fingers in the fabric covering you, pulling it aside and going right back to his teasing. His fingers run up and down your slit, dipping into where you’re wet only to pull away and circle your clit; just enough to give you a taste, to have you wanting more.

He’s winding you up and up and up and you think you might pass out if he doesn’t make you come soon.

“Eddie.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got you.”

It’s then that he pushes one finger in, his rings that still sit around his fingers only add to the intensity. He works a second one in quickly, your cunt sucking him in and he can’t even imagine how good it’ll feel when he gets to fuck you for real.

He’s quick to learn what you like, what makes you pulse around his fingers or moan a little louder. You had no clue that things could ever feel this good and when his thumb finds your clit, you’re absolutely done for.

Your breaths come out hot, bits of condensation gathering on the counter, “fuck. Oh my god.”

“Feel good?” He asks even though he knows damn well it does—your reactions are telling enough. He picks up the pace, his fingers pressing against that spot that has your knees going weak. He wraps his unoccupied arm around your waist to hold you up.

“So, so good, Eddie. Gonna come.”

“Go on, all over my hand, sweetness. Then I’ll fill you right up, how’s that sound?”

Your response is caught in your throat, a whine bubbling out instead.

“Quicker you come, the quicker I’ll give it to you,” he tacks on.

The thought of him fucking you after this drives you nuts because if just his fingers feel this good, you can’t even imagine what his cock will be like. Your orgasm washes over you, eyes rolling back.

He works you through it, steadily slowing down and easing away to give you a break. He pulls his fingers away, chuckling at the noise you make when he does, and sucks them clean. Then, softly, he’s leaning down and kissing his way up your spine.

“Holy shit,” you breathe.

“You okay?”

“More than okay. You’re really good.”

“‘M not done yet, babe.”

He stands back up, but he pulls you along with him so you're no longer resting on the counter. Hands on your hips spin you to face him, and as soon as you do he surges forward to kiss you. It’s quick, like he’s making sure it’s still okay to keep going.

His touch trails up to the band of your bra—which is askew, but still on. “Can I take this off?”

You nod, but he waits for a verbal confirmation before unclasping it and pulling it away from your chest. It joins your shirt on the ground.

You’re suddenly very aware that you’re half-naked and he isn’t. You tug on his shirt, eager to even the score, “you too.”

“Well, it’s only fair, isn’t it?”

He peels his shirt over his head, and you realize that you’ve yet to see his tattoos so closely. You reach out, tracing them lightly with your fingertips. First, the bats that adorn his forearm, working your way up to his shoulder, then down his chest. He lets you, happy to have your hands on him.

While you’re occupied with his tattoos, he looks you over, free to stare without worrying if you’ll notice. His eyes travel across your face, the slope of your nose, the shape of your lips. They go down your neck, a canvas he plans to leave his mark on, and down to your chest that’s now bare.

The sight is enough to remind him of how hard he is, straining against his jeans. He kisses you again, heavier this time, and lets his hands cup your tits, squeezing and thumbing over your nipples. You moan into the kiss and he can’t control himself any longer.

He lifts you up to sit on the counter, close enough to the edge that you’re forced to wrap your legs around him.

“You still want this?” He asks.

Your hands go to his jeans, popping the button open and lowering his zipper slowly, “yeah, Eddie. I want this. I want you.”

I want you. Eddie doesn’t know why the words make his heart go all fluttery, why they make him look at you like you’ve put the stars in the sky just for him. He kisses you all over again.

You fit your hand between his jeans and his boxers, and you gasp into the kiss when you feel just how big he is. He’s wide, and you know the stretch of him will be a kind of burn that hurts so good. You stroke him over his boxers first, but quickly grow impatient to see him.

You tuck your fingers into the waistband of his boxers, pulling them and his jeans down enough to free him. You pull back only to be able to look at him properly, leaning your forehead against Eddie’s bare shoulder, your bottom lip bitten between your teeth because he’s pretty everywhere.

He kisses the side of your head, tender in the midst of the heat of it all.

You think, despite his initial distance, Eddie’s one of the sweetest people you’ve ever met. He shows it in the small things he does. Offering to take you home, the gentleness of his hands, his constant checking in on you to make sure this is what you wanted.

Yeah, you like him a whole lot.

Your hand wraps around his cock, jerking him slowly at first. A tease, he thinks. And then you pick up your pace just a bit and he thinks he might come before he even gets to be inside you and as much as he would love to see your hand covered in him, it’s not what he wants right now.

He’s never wanted anyone like he does you and he knows that information will have him overthinking later, but right now, it just makes him desperate to have you.

“Fuck,” he grabs a hold of your wrist, “as good as this feels, sweetheart, you gotta stop or I’ll come and this’ll be cut short. You don’t want that do you?”

He tips your chin up with his free hand, pecks your lips quickly before giving you the chance to respond.

“No. Want you to fuck me,” you say.

“Dirty girl.”

He reaches for a condom in one of your drawers when you tell him where to find them. When you bought them, you were almost embarrassed, because what were you expecting? Certainly not this.

He’s back on you before you really feel his absence, running his hands up your thighs, under your skirt, and tearing the hole he’d already made wider.

“You want me to stop, you tell me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Pushing your legs apart further to make room for him, he reaches down to paint himself up and down your slit, pushing himself in only when he’s teased the both of you sufficiently.

It’s a welcome stretch, one that’s better than anything you’ve ever felt in situations like this and you wonder why you didn’t move away sooner, if this is what it led to.

Eddie leans forward, resting his hands on the counter on either side of you, close enough that his arms brush against you. His face is close to yours but he doesn’t kiss you, no, he breathes the air you do, swallowing any sound you make.

His first couple of thrusts are tentative, slow, but when you wrap your arms around his neck and speak a quiet, ‘faster, please,’ he dives right in.

Somehow, he manages to know just what you need, and he wraps his arms around your waist to keep you still as he moves harder, quicker. Both of you are still half dressed, your clothes in disarray and his are pushed to his knees. You’re both so wrapped up in want and it shows.

“Fuck me,” you whine as he hits that spot inside you, like he’s done it a hundred times before.

“Thought that’s what I was doing, sweets.”

“Eddie.”

“I know, baby. You’re doing so good.”

He knows your orgasm is creeping up on you, he can feel it in the way you pulse around him, squeeze him tighter, bury your face in his neck so that your moans are pushed into his skin.

If he could, he thinks he’d get the sound of them permanently etched into his mind.

“Taking it so well. You wanna come, sweet girl?”

You nod against his skin, “yes. Yes, can I?”

He snakes a hand down to rub your clit, to push you over that edge and says, “let go. Give it to me.”

It’s like his words were what you were waiting for, the breaking point to let you finish. It’s enough to make your moans get caught in your throat and your eyes squeeze shut, seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you choke out.

“That’s it,” he works you through it, and only when he’s sure that you’re on the comedown does he let himself finish, too.

He pulls your head from his neck with a hand cupping the back of yours, kissing you to really seal the deal, coming with a grunt into your mouth.

When he’s spent, he rests his forehead against yours, running his hands up and down your back soothingly, “you okay?”

“Mmm. Amazing,” you reply, dazed with a fucked out smile on your face. “Why’re you good at everything?”

He chuckles, kissing your cheek before pulling out, “maybe I’m just good at them with you.”

Discarding the condom and pulling his boxers back up—removing his jeans completely—he then finds a small towel and wets it in the sink. Meanwhile, you take off the rest of your outfit, figuring he’s seen enough already. He cleans you up first, delicate hands and a soft apology when you wince from the sensitivity.

He picks you up when he’s done, your legs wrapped around his waist and your head dropped against his shoulder. It feels natural, he thinks, to take care of you the way he would a lover. You feel like you belong there, in his hold, and he knows that you’ve changed him in a way.

His reluctance to get into any kind of relationship seems to have flown out the window now.

The door across the hall is the first he tries, and he guessed correctly when he finds your bedroom on the other side of the door.

He lays you down on your bed, and you pull the blankets up over yourself, lazily. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to look at Eddie the same way, but it’s not a bad thing. It’s not because of the sex, though it was notably the best you’ve ever had and you’ll undoubtedly think about it constantly. It’s because you have feelings for him. Real, true, romantic feelings that run far too deep for you to ignore.

He goes to leave, but you catch his wrist, “you can stay.”

“What?”

“I want you to stay with me. If you want to,” you say.

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

He doesn't even hesitate, and he tries not to think about what that means for this thing he knows is blooming between you, its petals unfurling slow and steady. He slips into bed beside you, welcoming you when you snuggle into his side.

“Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Night, moon girl.”

You’re both fucked, literally and figuratively.

-

You wake up the most well-rested you’ve felt in a while. Flipping onto your back, you stretch out, and it’s only then that you feel the emptiness on the other side of the bed.

For a moment, you’d almost forgotten Eddie had been there in the first place. Then, you remembered you were, in fact, naked. The slight ache between your legs was enough to have last night coming back to you in a rush.

You wonder if maybe Eddie had to leave for work, but you don’t find a note or any indication of his departure. Instead, you hear the clanking of pans and plates coming from the kitchen.

You throw on a fresh pair of underwear and one of your oversized sleep shirts that sits at the top of your thighs. You’re still groggy, mind slower with sleep, but you’re awake enough to hear Eddie humming when you open your bedroom door and step out into the hall.

There he is, standing by your stove, cooking breakfast. You rub your eyes to make sure you’re not dreaming. Or seeing things.

He moves around like he’s been using your kitchen for ages, and his presence warms the space that you’ve had such a hard time getting used to. You recognize the song he’s humming to be the one he played on the guitar. The corners of your mouth lift up.

“Eddie?” You call quietly, careful not to startle him while his back is turned to you.

“Oh,” he faces you, frying pan in his hand, “morning, sweetheart.”

“Hi.”

“I’m making us breakfast, I hope that’s okay.”

Is he kidding? It’s the most okay thing anyone’s done for you in a long time and you don’t know whether you want to cry or kiss him. He’s unlike anyone you’ve known, and you can’t believe how different he is now compared to when you first met.

His guard was up, short responses and little emotion. It’s a stark contrast to now, to the way he stands clad only in his boxers and his shirt from the night before, flipping a pancake like it’s the easiest thing in the world. You don’t know how he could even keep the saccharine boy hidden, it seems to ooze out of him now.

“It’s- Eddie, this is really sweet.”

The tips of his ears go pink.

He doesn’t know what possessed him to cook for you, or why the sincerity in your appreciation makes him blush. All he knows is that he thought it would be nice to make you smile, and that there’s something in his chest that seems to expand when you do.

“I hope you like pancakes,” he says.

That morning is the moment you realize you’re falling in love with Eddie Munson.

-

It’s been weeks since that night, that morning. Somehow, rather than put distance between the two of you, you and Eddie have grown closer. You think he’s one of the best friends you’ve ever had, even though you haven’t known him very long.

You’re not falling in love with him anymore. No, you’re deep in it now.

Of course, Robin was able to draw it out of you, and after all of her assuring you that there’s absolutely no way Eddie doesn’t feel the same, you still can't let yourself believe her. You’ll bever come back from it if you find out he doesn’t when you’ve built up your expectations.

So, you keep them low. He’s your friend, that’s all it’ll ever be and you know it. Or, at least, that’s what you keep telling yourself every time you catch yourself getting a little too lost in him.

You’re meant to be meeting the gang at the tattoo shop and then head somewhere for drinks all together. Because you’re not only close with Eddie now, you’ve found yourself friends that are real and true. Sometimes you find yourself wondering what your life would’ve been like had you been in high school alongside them. You think it would have been much, much better, but you have them now and that’s what matters.

You knock on the door when you get there, the shop already closed and locked up. You’re quickly greeted with Robin’s grinning face on the other side of the glass. She lets you in and wraps you in a brief hug.

“I think you should start working here just so I don’t have to miss you at all in between plans,” she says, stepping back and locking the door again.

“We both know I don’t have the skills for that, but I missed you, too, Robin.”

“Not as much as you missed me, I hope,” is how Eddie chooses to announce his presence.

“Hi, Eddie.”

“Hi, sweetheart.”

Robin scoffs at him, “can you not steal my thunder for once, please.”

“I’m not allowed to say hi to my friend?”

He looks at you when he says friend, like he’s sharing a secret. Only, you have no idea what it might be.

“Whatever. I have to go get Nance since she went home to change,” she gathers her stuff from the desk. Then, she points to you and says, “I better get a very detailed life update later.”

“You know you will,” you say.

“‘Kay, see you soon!”

She leaves after that, and Eddie’s gaze is already fixed on you when you turn towards him.

“C’mere,” he nods towards the doors that lead to the back room, where the station he tattooed you at is all set up.

“What’s this?”

“I want you to give me a tattoo.”

Your eyes widen, “sorry?”

“I’m serious. Doesn’t have to be big, it can be a dot if you want,” he gently nudges your chin with his finger, closing your mouth where it was dropped in surprise. “I wanna teach you.”

Your friendship isn’t the only thing that’s grown since that night. Eddie’s become more touchy with you, too. An arm slung over your shoulders, a hand on your thigh or the nape of your neck. Though this touch is small, it doesn’t fail to leave a lasting effect where it was placed, a warmth, like a drop of sunlight. It almost distracts you from what he’s asking.

“Eddie, I can’t. I’ll mess it up.”

“Babe, I’ve got loads of tattoos. Trust me, it’ll be fine,” he moves his hand to your shoulder, gives it a squeeze. “Plus, you’ve got a great teacher.”

It takes a bit longer for him to convince you, but he succeeds in the end. It’s hard to say no to someone you’re in love with, especially if that someone has really good puppy dog eyes.

Before you really even process it, he’s on the tattoo bed, a pant leg rolled up, shaving a small patch for you to use as your canvas. He does all of the prepping necessary, and even goes as far as to put the gloves on for you.

He explains it all slowly, repeats whatever you ask him to, and promises to guide you through it all. You’re incredibly nervous—who wouldn’t be?

“Relax. You’re gonna be a natural, I know it.”

“How do you know that?”

“You’ve got good hands, sweetheart,” he drops one of his eyelids in a wink.

The flirting is something else that’s become more frequent. You think he’s flirting, that is. He doesn’t act the same way with the rest of the group and you know that, but you also need to not get your hopes up. Still, the butterflies come alive.

You draw your stencil, settling on a very simple rendition of the sun. A small circle with short lines as its rays. It’s fitting for him, you think. As much as he seems like midnight on the outside, that boy is dripping in sunshine.

It also goes with the one he gave you, but that’s just a bonus.

Once it’s applied and you’re sat on the stool, in position to begin, he explains it all over again. He knows you’re nervous, but he isn’t at all. He’s excited to have you do this, to wear a piece of you on his skin.

His hand wraps around yours on the tattoo gun for the first line, guiding you so that you can get the feel of it. He lets you take over after that, assuring you that there’s nothing you could mess up enough to have him dislike it, as long as you’re the one doing it.

As he watches you work, your tongue poking out between your lips in focus, he feels his chest swell. He’s never liked anyone the way he does you, and he’s never let someone untrained tattoo him, that’s for sure. There’s something in him that seems to brighten when you’re around, and he doesn’t know how to put it into words.

He wishes he could pluck the moon out of the sky and hold it in his hand, only to be able to give it to you. Since he can’t do that, he hopes his heart will do good enough. He loves you, that he knows, he just can’t bring himself to say the words out loud.

He’s warmed up to you quicker than ever, so much so that the people around him have noticed. That means something and he knows it.

“I think I’m done,” you say after a bit.

“Yeah? Let’s see this work of art then.”

He sits up, bends closer to his leg to get a look at your handiwork. He’s silent at first and it makes you nervous.

“What do you think?”

“It’s perfect,” he says.

You know it’s far from perfect. The lines aren’t even, nor are they all straight. But he says it like he means it, believes it, so you let yourself smile at that.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. I’m super sure.”

He wouldn’t have ever picked out the sun for himself, but knowing that you would has his walls crumbling even more—if that’s even possible with you.

He does the cleaning and the wrapping, and you’re happy to observe. Just as he’s finishing up, Robin and Nancy walk in, Steve not far behind.

“I leave you guys for not even an hour, and now you have a tattoo?” Robin says, though she doesn’t even sound surprised.

-

Eddie thinks his feelings swell and grow every single time he sees you, and he thinks they might just boil over and pour out of him before he even gets to figure out what to say. That won’t do. You deserve more than that.

You deserve to be taken on a date, to be appreciated and taken care of properly, and that’s what he needs to do. The only problem is, he has no idea how to go about it all.

There’s only one person he can think of who will know exactly what to do. The expert in dating; Steve. Eddie calls him into his office.

“What’s up, boss?” Steve says, leaning against the doorway the way he always does.

“Close the door, would you?”

“Shit. Am I in trouble? I may have spilled some ink the other day but you can barely even see it, swears.”

Eddie shakes his head, making note to take a look around his station later. He’s used to Steve’s clumsiness, though, it’s part of the reason he wanted dark floors in the shop.

“No. That’s not- I need your help.”

“Oh. Okay, hit me.”

“I want to ask her out. I just don’t really know, um, where to take her or whatever.”

Eddie doesn’t even have to say your name for Steve to know who he’s talking about. He’s painfully aware that he’s been quite obvious with his affections, especially ever since the night you had sex. He’s always itching to have his hands on you in some way, stealing you away from other conversations, all of it.

That night was like a wake up call for him, a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. He knew there was something about you before that, but it became concrete.

He’d never felt so connected to someone, nor had he been so eager to take care of them afterwards. Hell, he’s never even slept in the same bed as his hookups. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s slept over at all. Then, there was you, asking him to stay and he couldn’t say no to you. He didn’t want to, either.

“You know her better than I do, man. But, flowers, you gotta do. They love that. Do you know her favorites?”

Eddie shakes his head.

“That’s fine. Get a good mix. Other than that, you should just be honest, that’s what Robin always tells me,” he shrugs. “Why don’t you just call her now?”

“I don’t know about that.”

“Come on! She’s gonna say yes. She gives you those lovey-dovey eyes all the time.”

“Okay, that’s enough. Out.”

“Not even a thank you?”

“Thanks, Steve. Bye.”

Steve rolls his eyes as he leaves Eddie’s office, shutting the door behind him again. He, along with Nancy and Robin, knows that you and Eddie will end up together, it’s obvious to everyone except you two, they only want to help it along.

Eddie really hopes that their pestering will be worth it in the end. That you’ll feel the same.

He stares at the phone sitting on his desk for what feels like ages before he musters up the courage to actually call you. He had your file open on his desk, your number written out on one of the forms. He finally picks up the phone and dials it.

Luckily, you weren’t at work. You’d been thinking of Eddie more and more each day it seemed. How he looked at you, the secret smiles that he saved just for you, the way he touched you, the way he felt-

The phone ringing cuts off your train of thought. You walk over and pick it up, prepared for it to be Robin or Nancy since they’re the only ones that ever call you besides your boss. The voice on the other line is neither of them.

“Hello?”

“Hey, sweetheart. It’s Eddie.”

As close as you’ve gotten, for some reason, no phone numbers have been exchanged. You wish they had been, because hearing his voice crackle through the phone is a much nicer sound than most.

“Eddie, hi. How’d you get my number?”

He twists one of his rings around with his thumb. He’s glad you can’t actually see him, because you’d surely be able to tell that he’s nervous.

“It’s on file in the shop. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Not at all. I like talking to you,” you say, soft and sincere. “What’s up?”

“I, uh,” he shakes his head, trying to figure out exactly what to say. “Are you busy tonight?”

“No, I’m not. Do you guys want to do something?”

“Not exactly,” he says.

Your heart beats quicker in your chest, because you think he’s about to ask you out, maybe. If not that, then at least ask you to do something with just him, which is close enough for you to consider it a win. You smile like an idiot.

He clears his throat and continues, “I wanted to know if you’d want to go out… with me.”

It’s happening, you think. Something is shifting as you speak, the feelings you’ve tried to suppress for so long are itching to come out.

“Like a date?” You ask. Just to be sure.

“Yeah, moon girl. Like a date.”

“I’d really, really like that, Eddie.”

He thinks you can probably hear the smile in his voice when he says, “yeah? Me too.”

He tells you he’ll pick you up, to wear whatever you like, not to worry about being over or underdressed, ‘you’ll look pretty either way, trust me,’ he’d said.

When you hang up, you’re trying not to jump around and squeal like a thirteen year old. It’s difficult to contain your excitement, your nerves, your hope. It feels as if a door is opening. A door to more nights like that night, more mornings with shared breakfast, more kissing, more than friends. More, more, more.

Meanwhile, Eddie’s wondering how he’ll get through the rest of the work day when his head is filled with the promise of seeing you.

-

After much debating on what to wear, no thanks to Eddie’s sweet yet vague instructions, the buzzer sounds in your apartment. You make your way over, one shoe on, the other in your hand. You press the button and speak.

“Hello?”

“Hey, moon girl.”

“Eddie,” he only said three words and you’re already smiling. “Come on up.”

You rush to get your other shoe on, luckily finishing up just as he knocks on your door. There’s a moment where you’re almost expecting someone else to be on the other side, to have been dreaming the whole date up. Luckily, it’s real.

Eddie stands in the hall, pretty as ever. His hair is in its usual mess of waves and curls, his classic leather jacket and denim vest duo are on, and in his hand, a bouquet of flowers.

He notices you looking at them and holds them out, “these are for you.”

“This is really nice, Eddie. Thank you.”

You take them from him, holding them up to your nose to smell them (and also to hide how wide your grin is). He stands by the door, a ball of nerves, and watches you put them into a big cup, because you never had a reason to buy a vase until now. He decides next time, he’ll deliver the flowers in a vase just so you have one.

He holds your hand on the way down, opens the car door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before closing it, he tells you in at least three different ways how beautiful you look during the car ride alone, and he drives with a hand resting on your thigh, your fingers toying with his rings.

He’s an absolute dream.

He takes you to a small restaurant, fancy enough for a date—though you think being with Eddie, no matter where, would be enough for you—but casual enough that you aren’t too worried about the people around you being judgemental. You sit in a booth and instead of across, Eddie sits beside you. He keeps a hand on your thigh during your meal, too.

In his car once more, you’re sitting in the parking lot with music playing through the speakers. Eddie hasn’t made a move to start driving you yet, and you haven’t even thought about going home. You haven’t ever been on an official date before, but if you had, you’d say with absolute certainty that this is the best one.

You sit sideways in the passenger seat so you can look at him, and Eddie’s head is turned toward you, his cheek against the headrest.

“Have you had a girlfriend before?” You ask.

You don’t know why the thought comes out of your mouth. You’d been thinking it, though. Robin’s always hinting at how different he is with you, at the fact that Eddie’s never brought a girl he’s liked around his friends. You’re curious.

“No, I haven’t. Why do you seem surprised?”

“It’s just, you’re really good at this.”

“At what, sweetheart?”

“Like, going on a date. And… other stuff, too.”

He shifts in his seat, resting an elbow on the center console and leaning closer to you. Much, much closer. Your noses are almost touching and you can see the way his eyelashes frame his eyes.

He nudges his nose against yours, “what stuff?”

You know he’s teasing you, trying to make you give him more detail because it’ll make you go all shy or embarrassed. To him, it’s cute, and he’s been trying not to kiss you all night. He was going to wait until he dropped you off like a proper gentleman, but he figures making it through dinner is good enough.

“Eddie,” you draw his name out, almost whining.

“Tell me. Come on, please? You can’t just bring it up and not share.”

The hand of his that isn’t resting between you comes up to push your hair over your shoulder, then slides around to hold the back of your neck loosely.

“God, okay. Um, you’re a good kisser. Like, really good,” he leans in and pecks you for that, pulling away just enough to let you keep talking, your lips still brushing against his. “And, I love your hands.”

“My hands?”

“They’re very talented. You know, ‘cause you’re an artist, and all.”

He huffs and shakes his head. Enough of the teasing, he leans in and kisses you deeper this time. Your hands move and grip the sides of his jacket, holding him close to you.

You kiss, and kiss, and kiss, and it’s enough to have you panting and warm all over. His hand squeezes your neck gently before he pulls away, his lips slick with spit, swollen and darker from your kiss. You’re sure yours don’t look much different.

Eddie drops his forehead against yours, takes both of your hands in his, “do you want to go home?”

You shake your head.

“Can I show you my place, then?”

“Yeah, okay. I’d like that.”

He’s not saying it to get you in his bed, though there’s no doubt that would be a bonus, but he doesn’t want this date to end. There’s also a part of him that wants to see you in his apartment, let you into more of his life.

He’s only ever been to yours, and he doesn’t have the whole group over at his, so you’ve never seen it. He thinks, if he’s really going to give this a shot, he might as well let another wall crumble down for you.

The drive there is fairly quick, and yet again, his hand finds your thigh. This time, though, he lets his fingers hold on, rather than just rest in your lap. You like it a lot.

-

Eddie’s apartment isn’t what you expect. You thought it’d be decorated like the shop: dark colors, black and white art, hints of red. His place is much warmer, much homier. It suits him perfectly.

He has a huge record collection, a whole wall of his living room dedicated to the shelves and the player itself. He also has a shelf for his books. Some more worn than others, letting you know which are his favorites of the bunch.

You trail your fingers along the spines, admiring his collection. He lets you, standing not too far away, enjoying how you look in his space.

His bathroom is much like yours, small and plain, but it’s tidy save for some products of his strewn about the counter. His bedroom is so obviously his that it makes you smile. From the rings and other jewelry sitting atop his dresser, to his dark gray bedding, to the guitars that are displayed proudly, to the desk pushed into a corner with pages upon pages spread about.

You gravitate towards that desk without a second thought.

There’s something so intimate about seeing his art station in his home, much different to his office at the shop. Here, he can let it be a mess, and can draw whatever he pleases.

“Is it okay if I look at these?” You ask.

“‘Course,” he says. He walks up behind you, lets his hands hold your sides loosely and rests his chin on your shoulder. You revel in the warmth of his chest against your back.

You pick up some of the loose pages, looking at the different pieces. Skulls and flowers and landscapes and so much more. He can do it all, you think. You can see so much detail, the strokes of his pencil, and it’s clear how much talent he has.

“These are all beautiful, Eddie.”

He turns his head to peck your cheek, “thank you, sweetheart.”

You reach for a worn sketchbook next, the cover peeling at the edges and the pages nearly full. It flips open to where it seems to have been used the most, the spine broken. What you see makes you gasp quietly, but Eddie’s close enough to hear it.

Covering the pages are drawings of the moon. Over and over again he drew them. Some are big, taking up an entire page, and some are scrawled into corners and empty spaces, like he couldn’t stop adding them. All of these drawings for your tattoo, and he’d only shown you a few.

“It’s weird, right?” Eddie says, hiding his face in your neck.

If he’s honest, he forgot that sketchbook was even there. He couldn’t forget about the drawings you found—you’d taken up so much of his thoughts after meeting that he couldn’t stop drawing the fucking moon for you. There are so many and he’s embarrassed by it, because he really was screwed after the first day even when he refused to see it.

“No, it’s- these are all for me?”

“Couldn’t stop thinking ‘bout you, so I drew these,” he speaks into your skin. “I was trying to avoid my feelings for you, but clearly, that didn’t work. You wouldn’t get out of my head and I had no idea why.”

You turn in his hold, leaving the sketchbook open on his desk. You look at him, the way his cheeks are pink at your finding of his drawings, the way his eyes flick between yours.

“I love them. Every single one,” I love you. “I thought about you a lot, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm. So much. You made me nervous at first,” you admit, your hands fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“I’m not used to, um, opening up to people and all. I’ve never even been in a relationship,” his hands come up and grab yours, like he needs the comfort. “You make me want to try, though.”

You have to say it. There’s no way you can’t, not when he’s looking at you with those eyes filled with something.

“I love you, Eddie,” his eyes widen, he freezes. “You don’t have to say it back or anything, I just really needed to tell you. You’re the first sense of comfort I’ve found since I moved, and I don’t think I would have felt at home without you and I love you.”

No matter how scared he is to be with you, because he wants to be someone worth being with and he doesn’t know what he’s doing, he can’t ignore the fact that he loves you right back. And he hasn’t said those words to many people in his life.

It’s big for him, so big that he’s stumbling over his words but he tries anyway.

“Oh my god,” he kisses your knuckles, “I love you, sweetheart. My moon girl, fuck, I love you, too. I’ve never done this before, but there’s nobody else I’d want. Nobody.”

You feel so many things at once. Relief and happiness and a thousand fireworks in your gut and in your heart. You grab his face with your hands and drag him down to kiss you.

It’s broken by your smiles, your teeth bumping into each other but neither of you care one bit. He holds your wrists gently, returns your kiss with ease. He’s delicate with his touch, so, so perfect with his lips on yours.

He only pulls away to ask, “will you be mine? Be my girlfriend?”

You nod vehemently, “been yours since you kissed me the first time. Probably even before that.”

You’re not worried about the ‘told you so’s you’re sure to get from your friends, or what happens next because you know whatever it is, Eddie’s gonna be there.

“Think you had me the minute you started talking ‘bout the moon.” He just didn’t know it yet.

༄

if you enjoyed, please leave a reblog or let me know what you thought! it helps loads more than you think <3

[screaminglygay]

hey! can we pretty pls have a pt2 to the stalker!amber?

Amber Freeman headcanons

warnings: dark!amber, swearing, toxic situationship, possibly bad grammar, stalking, obsessive behavior

word count: 1.7k

an: thank you for your patience! i still have some sort of writing block, so this is just something little, but I want to write a full fic on amber, so stay tuned! hehe

Amber and you have many study sessions, she wants you to pass all the exams, it is not her fault that it always leads her to take you in any way she wants

"Amber, we talked about this..." you sigh as you look at the book infront of you, while Amber´s hands were wandering on your body.

"I'm just helping. If you can solve this under a distraction, can you imagine how good you'll be during the exam?" She looks at you, admiring you as she always does.

"So when someone would touch me during the exam I´m gonna be prepared?" You finally look at her, making a joke.

Her whole body shifts, she´s being slightly frustrated about you being such a brat. "Fine, let´s go back to stuying."

"What? I´m just playing your game, Ambs," you smile softly at her.

"No, you´re just being a fucking brat." And now, she´s mad mad.

You scan her face for a little bit, "oh come on, I was just joking," you poke her face slightly.

And there goes her tiny manipulation tactic, that you always fall hard for.

"I feel like you could do something little for me, since I´m spending so much time with you, making sure you pass..." Amber sits up.

You immedietly sit up too, "I- sorry, you are right," you take her hand in yours.

"Lay down, pretty girl..." she leans over you and you lay on your back, here it goes again.

No matter what subject, day in a week or time... Amber always knows how to make you do whatever she wants. And every single time and you... you obey.

Amber always knowing where you are, when the two of you are not together. She put few of a dog trackers in your wallet, some clothes, backpack, even into Chad´s car, just to be sure you´re always okay.

After a long weekend of not seeing eachother, Amber stops by your locker in the morning and waits for you. You immedietly smile, when you see her. It was a long time with your family on some stupid gathering outside the city, your cousin had birthday party - the most disgusting, pervy, rasist idiot. You´re very happy that you are back in school... it is kinda the same hell hole, but at least you still have your friends and Amber here.

"Hi," you say softly as you open your locker, taking out some books.

"Hi," she watches you, "how did you enjoy the family gathering?"

"It was hell-" you respond, but then you look at her with raise eyebrow, "wait, how do you know about the gathering?"

Amber without missing a beat asnwers with a smile, "Chad mentioned."

You nod, "oh, he can´t keep a secret, got it." You shake your head as you close the locker.

The girl smiles, another lie that you believe so easily. "Why a secret?"

"It´s a long story, but uh... I´m not really a fan talking about family, especially if most of them are shitty rasist who can´t name a single country outside of the US," you shrug.

"Got it, no more mentioning these people." She nods, like she doesn´t already know your whole family tree.

She has a tons of your pictures and videos, special folders on her phone, laptop, flashdisks, everything is sorted out.

Because you two are bonding more and more, she was really happy to make a new special folder of you. If the previous photos were only for her, these kinds of pictures are under increased security.

"You look so pretty, so so so pretty," she smiles at you kneeling on the bed, your hands covering your face, from all the emberassement. "Don´t be shy, puppy, look at me... come on." She takes her phone and opens camera.

"Amber..." you basically whine.

"What? Can´t I take a picture of a pretty girl on my bed?" She makes a photo. "Put those hands away for me."

You do, blushing like crazy, this is not something you´re used to. But you want to make her happy, seeing her smile at you makes something inside of you tingle.

"Pretty girl, look at you!" She smirks.

What you didn´t know, was that she has another camera in her room and every single time you´re there, you are increasing the number of files in her folder.

Even though the two of you are not official yet, everyone can see that Amber holds this sort of protection over you.

Another collage party, which is not a place you would chose to spend your time, but everyone decided to go and you didn´t want to be the only one saying no.

You are sitting on the couch next to Tara and Mindy, talking about your plans for the weekend, when all of the sudden a tall most would say handsome guy sit infront of you.

"That seat is occupied," Mindy says.

He looks around, "I don´t see anyone here. So..." He winks at you.

"That seat is occupied, they just went to grab someting to drink," you yell, because of the loud music.

"I wouldn´t leave such a pretty little thing on her own..." He smiles and you´re ready to throw up.

And before you or any of the girls could say anything, Amber steps in. "She is not alone, you dipshit."

He chuckles and stands up, "and who are you?"

"I don´t want to have a conversation with you," she splashes one of the drinks into his face, which indeed makes him leave with screaming something about a bitch.

"Oh wow, I respect that." Mindy says and Tara just stares at Amber.

"Um- thanks?" You look at Amber.

"Sorry about the drink, here take mine." She smiles as she gives you the only drink that survived.

Amber is very observing, she knows everything about you, even stuff you didn´t figure out on your own, but there are times when you totally shock her.

"Are you crazy, what are you doing here?" Amber yells at you. Walking in the rain was not the smartest decision you made. You were frozen to the bone

"I wanted to suprise you..." you smile softly.

"Wha- come in, jesus!" She steps aside so you can come inside her apartment, rushing to the bathroom for a towel.

"You uh said you had some hard time at work, so I just assumed... that maybe I could cheer you up a little bit." You say while your whole body is trembling.

Amber walks out with a towel and some of her clothes, looking at you like a deer in the headlights.

"I brought your favorite donuts and some nice relaxing candles. And we can order some sushi later. And if you´d like I can help with something, or just... keep you company, since I have zero idea what you´re doing at work." You let out a chuckle, "I mean most of the things I brought are completly wet, but I think they suvived it."

"You´re such a dumbass, do you know that?" Amber shakes her head, helping you put the things down and covering you up in a towel. "Why didn´t you call me, I could pick you up?"

"That woudln´t be a suprise, duh."

"God, we will be lucky if you won´t die from hypothermia, right now."

"I´m not helping with the stress, huh?" you sigh.

"(Y/N), I appraciate the effort, I really do, but next time, don´t try to walk in the worst thunderstorm, alright?"

"I think I could do that, yeah." The both of you laughed.

She loves PDA, her hands are on you all the time. Amber, an ardent lover of public displays of affection, is perpetually tactile, her hands finding peace on the lower back, intertwining fingers, and linked arms, embracing herself around her world.

“I’ll take this, thank you, pretty girl,” she says as she holds your hand for the billionth time today.

Amber is being your personal driver, driving you everywhere you need. Even if it means she has to wake up sooner, when you have classes, she will drive you no matter what.

The both of you made Saturdays as your movie nights.

"What are we chosing tonight?" Amber asks from the batrhoom.

You scroll through the Netflix, "how about the new season of YOU?"

Amber stops at her tracks, "um... what´s that?"

"You don´t know YOU?! What?! It´s really good show! We have to watch it."

"But you´ve already seen it, I don´t want to bother you by watching something twice..." She tries to skate out of it.

"No, no, it´s fine. I really enjoyed it and you will too!" You smile, clicking on the first season.

This was the biggest paradox in Amber´s life.

"Wow, that´s some stalker shit, just like you are!" Amber says with a light nudge.

"Oh shut up! I said if bilions of times, I didn´t stalk you. I don´t do that."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, (Y/N)," Amber teases you, "but following me like a lost puppy, liking my old photo, going through my social media, are you sure you´re not a Joe to my Beck?" Oh she´s pushing it, but for you, it´s just a silly missunderstanding that happened few motnths ago.

Despite her focus on academics and socializing, Amber harbors a secret talent for photography. She has a knack for capturing candid moments and hidden emotions, using her camera lens to express herself in ways that words cannot. And when it is combined with you?

Perfection.

Amber loves when you 'steal' her clothes, there is no better view than you in her bed with only her oversized shirt on you.

"Is that my shirt?" Amber looks at you, as youre already in bed, waiting for the usual movie night.

"Definetly not," you shake your head, taking the blanket to cover you.

"Oh- then what is your favorite song?" She smirks.

"Huh?"

"You have my favorite band on your shirt, what is your favorite song from them?" Amber asks again.

"Oh... um- all of them." Good save?

She laughs "All of them? It is not a band shirt, it´s a car logo, pretty girl."

You blush, "oh." Not a good save.

"It´s fine, keep the shirt, you look pretty in it." She lays next to you, putting an arm around you, keeping you close as possible.

In her free time, Amber enjoys exploring antique shops and flea markets, searching for unique treasures and hidden gems to add to her collection. She has a keen eye for things like this.

Thank you for reading!

[wol-fica]

-𝕌𝕟𝕖𝕩𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕-

pairings - wednesday x gn!reader

summary - Wednesday comes to you for advice and guidance with her stalker problem, and finally confesses

warnings - kissing, slight make out, fluff, kinda investigation, wednesday is so hot omg

————

It was a peaceful night at Nevermore Academy, not a sound could be heard, except for up in Apollo Hall. The soft ‘swoosh’ of a broom across wooden floors filled the large space as I did the weekly clean of my dorm. 

I lived alone, well technically not, as I did have a roommate, but they never stayed here or even bothered to show up at the beginning of the semester, so I assumed that the dorm was mine for the taking. Maximus, my dorm parent, had said that he didn’t mind me having it to myself, but I needed to uphold the promise of keeping it in order just in case a new student comes along. 

So here I was, ridding the space of all dust and grime. The faint sound of laughter flowed through my open window, probably coming from down in the quad. There was a late night party for the students who participated in the repair of the school, which was basically everyone. I was invited, but I’d rather be alone with my books than get drunk with the crowd. Everyone was down to do drugs and chug alcohol, which is why I was incredibly surprised to hear a swift knock at my door.

“Coming!” I called, placing the broom back into my supply closet before heading to the door. I opened it, only to be met with someone I would never expect to be at my doorstep. 

Wednesday Addams, gloomy and attractive as always. 

See, Wednesday and I have only interacted twice, so I was confused why she would be here at my door. The first time we met was at Eugene’s shed; I had gone there to get a jar of honey for my baking escapades, and Wednesday was there looming over a book of some sort. I had said hello, but all I received was a look and a nod. 

The second time was with Enid; I was in their dorm helping her decorate a large poster board for her project on giant hawks when Wednesday arrived back from Hummers club. We made eye contact for a solid two-and-a-half seconds before she greeted Enid and went straight to her typewriter. 

So for her to be standing in my doorway, arms full of papers and a black display board while her face looked bland as ever, was quite a shock to me.

“Wednesday, Hi.” I said, probably looking like an idiot.

Her eyes scanned my face before trailing down to the black apron I wore for cleaning. Instantly, my skin went red from embarrassment, and I scrambled to take it off.

“Sorry, I was in the middle of sweeping when you knocked.” 

“That is fine, having a neat room shows me that you are at least cleaner than most.” Wednesday said, her voice a bit less monotonous than usual. “Can I enter?”

“I…of course!” I stammered, stepping aside so she could walk in.

I shut the door behind her, locked it, and turned to see her inspecting my walls. She moved around the room quite fast, her hand tracing along the ancient wood. Once she seemed satisfied, she placed her things on my bed and got to work setting up her display board. 

“Uh, can I help with anything…?” I asked, sliding closer to see what she had.

She shook her head no and grabbed her papers to pin them up on the black panel, which is where I realized they were in fact photos of her. All of them were inconsistent, some with her by herself, others while she was with Enid or Xavier. 

“Wednesday what-” 

She slapped her hand to my mouth, glaring her dark eyes at me. “Be patient, you will see what I'm getting at.”

I obliged, keeping my eyes on Wednesday as she finished pinning the last of her photos. Once she was satisfied, she clasped my hand and pulled me back to see the full product. Red string trailed from each photo to a paper, which led to the center, a dark blurry figure. 

We stared at it for a moment, basking in the silence. In our pause, I registered her hand in mine. Her skin was cold, but not in a repulsive way, it was more refreshing than uncomfortable. I was surprised, especially when her thumb gently traced the back of my hand. 

“So, what am I looking at?” I asked, breaking the silence. 

She went forward to inspect her work more closely, her hand sliding out of mine in the process. An empty feeling filled the air but I ignored it out of respect.

“Wednesday?” I asked again, coming up next to her.

“It seems that I have acquired a stalker.” She murmured, scratching her chin.

“I see that, but why did you come here?” 

“Because I needed a consult.”

“What’s wrong with Enid? Xavier?” 

Wednesday’s dark eyes snapped to mine, a glare clouding her face. She stared at me for a good few seconds before looking back at her board.

“Because of that picture.” She stated, pointing at one of her laying on her colorless bed, “I care for Enid and Xavier greatly, but this makes me paranoid.”

I nod, understanding her view, “How would they get a picture of you in your room?” 

“A good question, but I'm not sure about the answer.”

“I see.”

Silence, again; Wednesday really likes to analyze, so I used this time to admire her. 

One thing about her that I always found interesting about her was her face. While most people would say she is bland and psychotic, I fully disagree. She has always had this effect on me that I couldn’t quite pinpoint until now.  

When we would pass in the hallway, I would get giddy and nervous, but as soon as she was gone those feelings diminished. We sit with each other in Creepy Creatures class, and I always get so scared to mess up on a test or choose dumb answers for homework in fear of repulsing her.

“Y/N.” 

Wednesday’s voice snapped me out of my daydreaming, causing me to look down to her. Her dark, well-trained eyes searched my Y/E/C ones with curiosity.

“What were you doing?” She asked, peering up at me.

“Nothing! Just thinking about stuff.”

She hummed slowly, still staring at me. “Stuff.”

I nodded sheepishly and smiled, giving a tense shrug. 

“Anyways, I had asked if you had any theories on who my despicable stalker could be.”

I thought for a moment, multiple possibilities filling my brain.

“Old family member?” I suggested.

Wednesday studied my face as she seemed to ponder about what I said. “Elaborate.”

I cleared my throat. “Distant relative. Has an issue with your family or you yourself. They want to scare you by taking stalkerish photos of you?”

“No, too easy.”

“How about a current student? Someone who is jealous of you and is trying to distract you from things about to happen?”

She pursed her lip at that one. “Maybe”

“Ooh! Or an old foe!” I said, now being very interested in the issue. “Someone you crossed and maybe have beaten in the past, they are back to scare you!”

I turned to see her slightly grinning at me, her eyes watching my every move. My face heated up and I giggled, scratching the back of my neck.

“Sorry, I love mysteries.”

Wednesday shook her head slightly, giving me an ever so small smirk. “That’s okay, investigating is cute on you.”

“Really?” I said, a blush covering my cheeks.

“Yes, it's terribly annoying.”

“Sorry.”

She scoffed, shaking her head; her eyes met mine with a fiery glaze. She was studying me again, taking in my features so they would have an imprint in her brain. I learned that Wednesday would do that so she could remember who she saw in a day in case of an unfortunate event happening. 

“You are incredibly naive.” Wednesday said, tracing her fingers across a photo of her and I in botany class.

I cocked my head to the side in confusion. What did that mean? Was I supposed to pick up on something? Did she ask me another question? 

“What do you mean?” I asked with caution.

Her shoulders dropped as her head drooped sadly. Cringing a slight bit, I backed away in fear that I said something wrong. 

“I keep throwing signals in your direction but you are to blind to see my attempts; unless I’m just bad at flirting.”

I looked stupid, very stupid. My mouth was hanging open while my eyes squinted in thought. 

“You…have a thing for me? Like a crush?” 

“Yes, I have gained an attraction to you.” She said, watching for my reaction.

“Oh.” 

“Are you disappointed?”

“What? No.”

“Then angry.”

“Wednesday, wait.” I said, shushing her before she started assuming the worst.

She stared, her eyes never leaving mine. Our gaze seemed to create a thin spark between us as we had a silent conversation through facial expressions. My thoughts took a pause when I saw her dark orbs flicker down to my lips, her own parting slightly.

“Can…can I kiss you Y/N?” Wednesday asked tentatively whilst rocking on her feet.

I smiled, reaching out to grab her hands.

“Call me Y/N/N.” 

And with that, our lips met in a fiery blaze. Her’s were soft and delicate, yet surprisingly delicious. She tasted sweet like lemonade but with a hint of mint. My hands traveled down to her waist, pulling her closer to me so I could kiss her more properly. 

We broke for air, but she dove right back in with a ferocious demeanor. I felt the prodding of her tongue begging for access into my mouth, which I happily accepted. As soon as she got clearance, she set to work exploring every crevice with curiosity. The way her tongue would slide against mine created a bubbly feeling in my stomach, which only grew when she decided to cup my face.

I pulled back, a string of spit dangled between us. Giggling, I wiped it away and planted a soft peck to her cheek.

“Now I can brag that I made out with Wednesday Addams.” I snickered, burying my nose into her neck.

Suddenly, a sharp jab of a fist collided with my stomach, causing me to clutch it in discomfort.

“Tell anyone and I will rip you off at your mid-section.” She stated before pulling me into her for a tight hug.

——————

i do not give permission for anyone to repost on any platform

[cinnbar-bun]

One Happy Hawk (Mihawk x Reader)

Summary: After getting hit with the Happy-Happy Fruit during a fight, Mihawk returns home in a rather… peculiar fashion.

Rating: SFW /Kinda Crack

Note: Takes place during the timeskip, is crackish, and features Perona, Zoro, and a cameo from Crocodile. Reader and Mihawk are married. Reader is GN.

Word Count: ~1.7k

A/n: Hey besties, sorry, my appendix burst a few days ago and I was in the hospital! I’ll do my best to finish some requests while I recover!

Mihawk getting caught off guard was one thing but now, after Mihawk slain his attacker and was resting at home, you couldn’t tell if this new behavior of his was unnerving or welcome.

“Wow, my house is so dark! It needs some light, right?” Mihawk asked loudly, before he opened the window curtains he almost always refused to open. You, Perona, and Zoro gawked as Mihawk pranced happily around the room, opening the many windows and letting the light shine in.

He sighed happily at his work and widely smiled to all of you. “My, isn’t this lovely? The sun is so beautiful.”

You three gasped at his innocent and sweet expression that seemed to glow brighter than the sun itself.

“I-I need to take a photo-“ you quickly mumbled. Perona nodded while Zoro looked as if he’d faint.

“What? Is something wrong?” Mihawk asked, before he made his way to you and felt your forehead. “Oh, darling, are you alright? Are you sick at all?”

You shake your head and Mihawk’s face softens. “Good. Yes, very good.”

“Uh, Mihawk?!” Perona yelled. “Why are you like this?!”

Mihawk gave a confused look. “Like what?”

“Like…. Like that!!” She pointed her finger at him, unsure of where to begin. Mihawk hummed as he massaged his beard.

“Hm, I’m not sure what you mean. Aren’t I always like this? You three always bring me such joy. I just wish to change things up today,” Mihawk explained.

Zoro leaned against a wall, breathing heavily.

“What the hell is going on?!” He cried, before he handed Mihawk a sword. “Come on! Fight me!”

“Fight you? Why would I do that? That could cause serious harm to us,” Mihawk gasped. If Zoro wasn’t clinging to Perona, he may have just fainted on the spot.

“I don’t want to hear anymore of this. (Y/n), he’s your husband, please do something,” Zoro mumbled despondently.

“What should I do?! I don’t know what to do!” You frantically answered.

“Ah! I got an idea! Maybe I can sicc my Hollows onto him! That should make him grumpy again!” Perona snapped her fingers.

“Great idea!” You and Zoro said at once. Perona then turned to Mihawk and summoned a Negative Hollow to pass through Mihawk. Mihawk simply watched curiously as the Hollow went through him, unfazed.

“Did it work…?” Perona whispered, before her answer came in the form of Mihawk laughing and clapping.

“Great job, Perona! Your Hollows are always such a treat to witness! It even tickled a little!” Mihawk stated proudly to Perona.

Perona screamed at Mihawk’s face and wrapped herself around you like a koala.

“Make him stop! Make it stop!” She wailed. “Go back! Go back!”

“Perona! I’m gonna fall!” You wobble, while Perona clung to you tighter.

“Waaaaaah! I thought he’d be nicer if he was happier but I hate itttttt! Turn him back, (Y/n)!” Perona ignored your comment, sobbing loudly. You sighed and placed Perona down before going to your husband.

“Darling, why don’t we go rest and-“

“Oh my!” Mihawk’s cheeks turned red as his eyes sparkled excitedly. He grabbed your hands and held them in his. “You wish to take a nap together? What an amazing idea, my love!”

The blush on his face is too cute to resist, and you can’t help but feel your face heating up at his undivided attention. Before you can say anything else, Mihawk tilts your chin up and gazes into your eyes dreamily.

“My love, have I ever told you how gorgeous your eyes are?”

“H-huh?” You reply, shocked at his honest compliment. Not that he never complimented you- he did- he was just usually more subtle about it.

“Yes, your eyes lead me astray every day. I wish to melt into them. I wish to look into your eyes forever and never be parted from you. I sometimes wonder if you are even real with how beautiful and ethereal you are. But when I look into your precious eyes, I know for certain that you are real, and I’m so grateful to have you in my life,” he stated earnestly, a gentle smile on his face.

You giggle at his proclamation of love and twirl your hair with your finger.

“On second thought, maybe we should keep him like this,” you grin.

“No way!!” Perona and Zoro shout in unison. You huff and pout, before Mihawk strokes your head.

“My love, please do not frown. I did promise that I would never let you be unhappy again.”

You perk back into a smile and nod. “Yes, you did!”

“Ah, there’s that smile I love so much!”

You two hold hands and smile in such a disgustingly cute way that Zoro and Perona gag.

“Great. Now (Y/n)’s fallen into his charms,” Perona groaned.

“We have to do something. I can’t become the greatest swordsman if this is how Mihawk quits,” Zoro pinched his forehead.

“New plan!” Perona pounded her hand in determination. “We make him remember how grumpy he is!”

Zoro nodded, eager to get his teacher back to normal.

“Hey, Mihawk!” Perona shouted to get his attention.

“Yes, Perona?” Mihawk replied, curious about what she wished to say.

Perona snickers and pulls out two coats, his usual black and red one, and the pink one she designed for him in an attempt to be ‘cute’. “Which one do you like more?”

Mihawk looked deep in thought. “The pink one. It’s clear that you put so much love and effort into tailoring it for me. And it even matches your outfit!”

Perona’s face shrivels up as Mihawk decides to wear the pink coat. “Yes, just splendid! You really have outdone yourself Perona! How do I look?”

You and Perona clamp a hand over your mouth as your eyes water at the adorable coat on a smiling Mihawk.

“So… cute…” you two mumble.

“Would you two knuckleheads think straight for a moment?! He’s obviously not himself! We have to fix him, not play dress up with him!”

“Now, now, Zoro,” Mihawk wags his finger. “There’s no need to yell. (Y/n) and Perona just wished to compliment me on my new outfit. I think it’s a great-“

Before Mihawk can finish, his Den Den Mushi begins to ring and he answers it quickly.

“Hello? Ah, Sir Crocodile! How wonderful it is to hear your voice!”

You and Perona snapped out of your thoughts as Zoro’s eyes widened in horror.

“Shit! They’re coming today for a meeting!” You whisper-shout as you remember the important meeting Mihawk told you about. “Quick, we can’t have them think anything is wrong!”

Zoro and Perona nod and run around the room, closing the windows again and redecorating so the place looks just as cold as before. Mihawk raises a brow as you swipe his Den Den Mushi and laugh nervously.

“Good morning, Sir Crocodile! I’m so sorry to tell you this, but it seems like my poor Mihawk has come down with a nasty cold!” You try your best to sound worried in hopes Crocodile will cancel the meeting.

“But darling, I’m perfectly-“ Mihawk tries to argue, before Zoro and Perona cover his mouth.

“He… is sick? Mihawk?” Crocodile asks, unimpressed and not believing a word you say.

“Mhm! He’s just had the nastiest cough you could ever imagine!” You glance at Zoro and he begins to cough loudly. “Can't you hear him? He’s been like that all day!”

“Right. And that is why he sounded so chipper to greet me just now?”

“Oh, the medicine the doctor’s gave him makes him rather… uh… loopy! Yes! He’s been a bit out of it!”

“Mihawk,” Crocodile sternly says, and Mihawk breaks free from Zoro and Perona’s grip.

“Yes, Crocodile?” Mihawk replies.

“Are you truly sick?”

Mihawk laughs loudly. “Oh no, my friend! I’m not sure why my love is saying such things to you! I’m excited to have you over, in fact!”

You, Perona, and Zoro are frozen in shock as it is silent on the other end of the line.

“Dear lord,” Crocodile states, stunned at what he just heard. “It’s alright. We can have the meeting another time.”

“What? But why, Crocodile? I’m completely fine!”

“No I… I think your partner is correct. You are very sick. You should lie down.”

“I don’t need to do that! I’m absolutely okay! I was even going to make you my famous cookies for the meeting!” Mihawk shouts, hoping Crocodile changes his mind.

“Goodbye, Mihawk,” Crocodile quickly says before he disconnects the call. Mihawk pouts sadly as he holds onto his Den Den Mushi.

“Aw… he’s not coming today anymore,” Mihawk sighs. You pat your husband on the shoulder to soothe him.

“It’s alright, my love. You two can have that meeting another time!”

“You’re right! And I’ll absolutely impress him with those cookies! In fact, I’ll go make some cookies right now!” Mihawk shouts as he runs to the kitchen.

“How long is this thing supposed to last?” Perona whines. Zoro waves his hand and begins to walk towards the staircase. “I saw nothing. Today was just a bad dream.”

You massage your temples as you follow your husband to the kitchen, praying for this “condition” to pass soon.

Bonus:

“Ugh, my head is killing me…” Mihawk groans. He winces as he notices the light pouring through his open windows. He registers a heavy weight around his arm as he notices you’re sleeping peacefully beside him. A warm feeling builds up in his chest before he looks down to see he’s wearing… pink pajamas with red and black ribbons on them.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then opens his eyes again. It is not just a dream, but in fact, reality. He is wearing those pajamas that Perona made him. He sighs and closes his eyes.

“I’ll deal with this in about an hour,” he mumbles to himself, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you in closer.

[weaper-reaper]

More König fluff and smut

I do apologize that I’ve been away for literally 5ever… sorry for all the fics I’ve abandoned there is a slight chance they still will be released. Until then, thank you always for the support. Here’s a treat for staying loyal and still RBlogging eventuality <3

CW: Fluff, Smut, Fingering, Creamies, KINDA SAFE SEX (literally unheard of), uhh this is KönigxYou btw, apparently ive been tagging my stuff wrong by writing xreader so forgive me ig, I’ve been craving intimacy and fluff irl so here you go, not proofed

Bzzzt… Bzzzt… Bzzzt

Your phone rattled the nightstand, clattering together the jewelry and pens that were haphazardly littered atop the smooth wood. With an annoyed grunt you twisted over to yank it from the cord it was plugged into. The bright screen made your eyes squint in through the darkness, text blurred- you answered it before knowing who was on the other side.

“Hey, uh.. hi.”

“König?” You asked out, the scratchy voice haunting and all too familiar.

There was an awkward staticky laugh through the speaker, and you sat up as your consciousness came rushing back.

“Yeah. Sorry it’s so late.” He apologized, and you pulled the phone from your ear to glance at the time. Just past midnight. “I just got back.”

His demeanor seemed to brighten as you put the cool glass back to your cheek. “Welcome back.”

“Listen.. I'm outside.”

Your heart stuttered, and you glanced to the window of your little studio, the moon sent streaks over the lonely little place you called home and a light rap sounded from the front door.

“Sorry I didn’t text,” He continued, voice stretched thin from exhaustion or travel. “I have something fo- actually, can you come to the door?”

You whipped your head around the room and your eyes landed on your bathrobe cast out lazily across the back of your chair. You snatched it up before responding.

“Yeah, yeah uhm.. hold on.”

“Okay.” He breathed, a hint of a smile on the end of his voice.

Throwing on the robe you rounded the corner from your bedroom, bare feet slapping against the tile on the floor. Without even bothering to peek through the looking hole, you unchained and unlocked the door, swinging it open wide.

König stood taller then you remembered, cast in shadows from the light in the hall. The dark seemed to loom just around him, hovering but an inch above his clothes. You met his cool gaze first, his eyes crinkled and he smiled under his hoodie.

He let the phone at the side of his face fall, and you pulled yours away then too.

“Hello.” He greeted. Smiley and with much more energy than you could’ve mustered this late at night.

“Hi.” You breathed back.

It had only been a few weeks since you last talked, but with him here at your door now- a strange look in his eye- it made it feel like months. The way he had left things made a bitter feeling resonate through your chest and your eyes quickly cast to anything but him. You cleared your throat and stepped to the side, inviting him in.

He had his bags with him, one sandy duffle bag and another giant backpack. You eyed them curiously as he dropped them, quickly answering before you could find the words to ask.

“Mission went a lot smoother than we thought, and my stuff is still in storage.. so.” He shrugged his outer jacket off and drops of water rolled down the nylon.

“It’s raining?” You asked, turning for the kitchen eyes cast over to the window again. Sure enough droplets you hadn’t noticed before stuck thick to the glass pane. “Some tea?” You offered, already putting the kettle on.

“Thank you.” He nodded, finding a spot against the cold counter to lean on.

He cleared his throat as you turned back to him, hands ruffling around in his pockets. He pulled a thin orange envelope from one of his cargo pockets and handed it flat out. You took it gingerly, suddenly too aware of the lack of clothing you sported. You tightened the robe before peeling open the packaging and pulling out the contents.

They were photos, mostly black and white, and definitely weathered. Some water spots bled around the corners making the ink smear and stick. You flipped through them excitedly.

“Oh!” You cooed, they were mostly photos of tall cliff sides, overgrown fields, the occasional tree or strange looking rock formation. You peeled apart one of them, it was a selfie- or an attempt at one. König stood infront of a lake, a few naked men stood behind him, one bent over and mooned the photo.

You laughed and glanced back over at König, a sweet smile was plastered over his face. You caught his eyes and a moment passed discreetly between you.

You had been so caught up in your own head since he left, the lack of communication drawing your feelings further and further from your own chest and you had worried he’d thought your relationship too difficult to handle while he was away. It’s not like he hadn’t been away before, but something made him seem even more distant now. He hadn't said goodbye to you this last time, just vanished. After a week you accepted the possibility of him ghosting you. But now, as his dark figure stuck out against the bright decor of your tiny kitchen, those feelings came flooding back.

The kettle squealed before you could finish your thoughts. Clearing your throat you gently set the pack of photos down onto the counter and poured out the dark liquid into two deep mugs. You handed him his, and his fingers brushed yours as he took it.

You could feel your chest heat up under the thick robe.

“Let me go change.” You whispered, breaking the silence. He set his mug down in response, and followed you to your room.

You glanced back over your shoulder at him as you passed through your doorway and blew a laugh down your nose, “Miss me that much, huh?” You joked that hidden hope, reaching for an old overnight shirt.

His arm stretched over yours suddenly grabbing the fabric with his chest at your back. He had moved so quickly you didn’t even have the chance to hear him take a step.

“I did.” He whispered softly, breath warm as it fanned over the cold shell of your ear.

You could swear your heart stopped, but then his lips were on yours in a flurry. He spun you and your robe had come undone with the movement, back now flush against the closet door. It’s hinges rattled as he all but threw you against it.

His lips were soft, and your heart raced.

It was the wetness then at your cheeks that stilled him. Slowly he peeled off of you and a hand rose to cup your jaw.

“Wh-why are you crying?”

You hadn’t noticed you were until he said something, but as your eyes met again a sob pulled from your lungs. He wasted no time in wrapping you up into his arms, pulling the two of you back onto the still warmth of your bed. You curled into him as your breathing slowed.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, raising the back of your palm to the corner of your eyes. “I just..” you started, quickly realizing it took so much energy to straighten out your thoughts.

“You left so suddenly, without saying anything.”

His brows grew tight, and his eyes cast downward heavily. “I know, I’m sorry.” Even he seemed choked back a bit.

“We weren’t allowed to tell anyone.” He continued, pulling you closer until you were practically laying on his chest. “I should’ve-“

“No it’s okay,” you interrupted, finding your voice again and apologizing, planting a palm on his chest. “It’s on me, I should’ve assumed I know your job is stressful I just..”

You drew your eyes up to his and let them cast over every feature of his face.

“I just missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Significantly more gently this time, he craned his neck down to meet your lips. The kiss was sweeter, softer and something unspoken drew under the both of you, sweeping the two of you up into your own perfect world. Slowly he twisted, and let a hand drag down your neck through the center of your chest before settling on your hip. The rough calluses on his fingertips drew shapes over your soft skin and you couldn’t help but fall victim to the shiver that raked through your body.

There was a tug at the corner of his lips as he smirked, pleased with your reactions. He whispered lowly again, voice thick and laid with his heavy accent. “Can I touch you?”

You nodded, afraid of the noises you’d make if you opened your mouth.

With a grace a giant like him should never possess, he dipped his hand under the part in your robe and cupped at your core. A thick finger slid down your part, and then back up blossoming you open with ease. The pad of his middle finger brushed against the hood of your clit and he swallowed the gasp that pulled its way out of your lungs.

You pulled from his lips as he prodded your opening with two fingers, the tips circled your entrance and involuntarily your hips buckled upwards.

“There you go,” He sighed, slipping further and further until his knuckles were pressed up as far as they would go. You felt yourself clench around as he pulled out, willing them to stay.

He slid them in again, and curled them deliciously to drag down your walls with each tug. Your voice betrayed you and a groan escaped, he mimicked your noises, his own breath growing ragged and heavy. His hand worked away at your cunt, and his quickly growing hardness became evident at your side. He was rutting against you in time with his fingers.

You mewled into his lips and slid the arm draped around his neck down his front until your palm coaxed up the forceful protrusion against his zipper. His pace stuttered and your confidence grew with each breathy moan he released.

Delicately, he pulled his fingers from your heat and quickly tugged away at the fastening of his pants, a dark spot crowned his bulge when you looked down. With a new heat at his cheeks and ears, he replaced your hand for you atop his boxers and you immediately squeezed. A moan choked up in his throat and he buried his face into you neck and chest, littering the crevice with sloppy kisses.

Perhaps a little prematurely, you slipped that hand into his pants and against the heat of his skin, pulling his member out and taught between you. He hesitated a moment before returning a thumb to your clit.

He rose again after a moment to smother you into another heavy make out session before rolling over above you. His thick cock weaped against your hip, and an insane amount of pre pooled over the creases of your skin. The air seemed hot and unbearable as you shifted out of your robe completely. Pulling away for a moment, König also shimmied out of his clothes and returned to you in a flash, sticky bodies melting back into eachother.

Be it because of the well prepped lubrication, or simply because the stars were all in alignment, when he returned slotted perfectly against you, the tip of his cock nudged directly into the ring of your pussy.

You both stilled and he let out a pained sounding grunt.

“Fuck..” you paused. “Uhm, are you okay?” You blabbered out lamely.

“Yeah.” He responded almost instantly, a hesitant kind of shame hung over him. “It’s just, It’s been a long time. I don’t know if..”

“It’s okay,” you took over quickly, pulling your knees up and opening your legs enough to where he slid in just that much more.

“Schhhheisse..” he drawled out, “you’re too warm.”

You huffed a short laugh and reached down to circle at your own clit, letting your body adjust to the stretch of him. Tingles rushed through your body and your mind quickly became fuzzy. With a deep breath he let his fingers replace yours and he pulled away to push back in deeper than before.

Letting your head fall back, you let him work himself into you. Pulling his hips away before using his weight to shove it all back into you again, König built up a steady rhythm and your mind and body grew hot.

His arms slipped under your back, and he pulled you closer to him, each wet smack echoing through the empty room. The walls of your insides burned, and that familiar tightness below your belly made itself known.

“Ahh, ah.. fuck.” You whined, completely caged beneath him. “I can’t.. I think I’m close.” You stumbled out, clawing at the backs of his massive arms.

“I know.” He grunted, “Got-damn you’re getting so tight.”

Part of you wanted to apologize for his struggle, but a bigger part of you wanted to clench up your core tighter. The latter won and soon König thrusts grew shorter and sloppier. His moans equalling his unsteadiness. You pushed your hips up to meet him, grinding down your front to his pelvis, begging for more friction.

The head of him slammed suddenly against your cervix as he pulled your legs up, latching purchase behind your knees to effectively bend you in half. You shouted in surprise at the new angle, everything quickly becoming too much.

“Where can I-?” He began and you answered before he finished.

“Inside!” You shouted, then cried as his thrusts became rougher- more demanding. “Inside, I.. IUD. It’s safe.”

You couldn’t help but grind your hips up into him, a desperate attempt to hurry your aching clit along. His lips found yours again in a frenzied haze, and you came undone almost instantly. Your core pulsed and you cried out from under him as the waves shook through every inch of your body.

König followed with two more strong thrusts, his hips stuttering and locked within your tightness. You could feel the warmth flow up deep inside of you, and he practically collapsed above you, completely spent.

You both laid a moment together, and his sweet cadence finally broke the silence after your pussy stopped its throbbing. He attempted to pull out, but your cunt gripped him completely.

“Relax.” He almost chuckled. Embarrassment flushed your face as he dragged a soothing hand down your sides, pulling away with a hiss.

“Sorry..” you mumbled.

He cast his eyes back up to you in a flash, and smirked. “Don’t be.”

“Just give me ten, okay?”

You rolled away to cover your face, giggling.

[howlingday]

The Ultimate Hunters

Winter: I am Winter Schnee.

Jaune: (Thinking) I remember reading about her. Apparently, she got top marks in all her classes, honors galore, and even leads multiple community programs. It's why she's referred to as the Ultimate Moral Compass.

Jaune: I'm Jaune Arc.

Winter: Mm, a strong name. You should thank your parents for it.

Jaune: Oh, uh, thanks-

Winter: But you should also do your best to not shame it! Never make them regret their choice to give such a potent name to a slacker!

Jaune: She's also kinda annoying.

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Blake: I'm... Blake Belladonna...

Jaune: Oh, so this is the Ultimate Author?. She's been writing since she was ten, and published a romance novel when she was only eleven. I think it was "The Accountant." Apparently, it was such a hit, people all over the world named real-world accountants the hottest people to date!. Still, I wasn't really expecting her to look so... dark and gloomy.

Blake: W-Why are you staring at me?

Jaune: Oh! S-Sorry, I-

Blake: I know what you're thinking! You think I'm a freak, don't you!

Jaune: N-No! I only thought-!

Blake: I know what you thought! You thought you'd never seen such an ugly girl! And you thought it was soooo funny!

Jaune: N-No! That's not what I was thinking at all!

Blake: Don't even bother trying to lie to me! You can't stand to look at me!

Blake: B-But I'm used to it by now...

Jaune: Yikes!. Talk about inferiority complex. Never thought a successful author could be like this.

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Yang: Hey! I'm Yang Xiao Long!

Jaune: Whoa!. She's the Ultimate Kickboxer!. They competed in the national circuit and won every single match!. Who hasn't heard of them?!.

Jaune: You're kidding me!

Yang: W-What? What's wrong?

Jaune: N-Nothing! I just, well, you're the Ultimate Kickboxer, so I kinda figured you'd be, uh...

Yang: What, were you expecting some big, dumb, jock guy?

Jaune: N-No,more like... Someone wearing boxing gloves and in a ponytail, like in that article I read.

Yang: Aw, geez... Not that picture! I hate that photo! I had to keep my hair tied back like that for the whole circuit. It doesn't look cute at all! So now I refuse to change my hair, not for anyone but me!

Yang: And, actually, can I tell you something? I... don't really like kickboxing. And to be honest, I hated going to my sparring matches.

Jaune: She hates kickboxing so much she never went to a sparring match? She must be some kind of prodigy!

Yang: So once I came here, I was done with it! So long, kickboxing! I've got my dreams ahead of me!

Jaune: Your dream?

Yang: Yeah! Playing music and jamming out all day long is the kinda stardom I want! All I need now is someone who can sing and a drummer, and I'm all set! I'm not stopping until I'm living like a real star!

Jaune: I can't believe what I'm hearing. I never thought I'd hear that coming from a kickboxing star!.

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Neptune: I am the Neptune Vasilias! But if you want to use my nickname, "Your Dream Come True," I don't mind. By the way, what do you know about anime?

Jaune: Anime?

Neptune: Well, to the world at large, I am the one and only Ultimate Fanfic Writer! I once sold over 10,000 copies of my fan fic at con. Everybody knows it! Of course, dsome of them didn't get it. They said I had "tainted" the nature of the con. How ignorant can you be?!

Jaune: This is the first I heard about it, but to sell over 10,000 copies is pretty impressive.

Neptune: I'm a lot like von Burgh. Completely unappreciated in my time. That's why I toil day and night to spread the good work of fan fiction to the world at large! I'm sure if you read my work, Mr. Arc, you'd completely understand in an instant! For it touches mankind's deepest truths...

Jaune: Uh, what kind of truths?

Neptune: It's all about giving in to our most basic of urges...

Jaune: On second thought, I don't want to understand it...

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Pyrrha: Hello! I'm Pyrrha Nikos, and I look forward getting to know you!

Jaune: The way she moves is mesmerizing, and there's a sweet scent wafting around her. When I saw her name on the attendance, I thought I recognized her name. She's the star of her own pop music group, "Hoplife," and as the Ultimate Pop-Star, she's the most desired woman for all the TV and magazine covers. But still, I'm more surprised she still smiling since... Nevermind. No need to get into that. But she looks so beautiful, like a goddess or something...

Pyrrha: I'm not a goddess. I'm a real person.

Jaune: Wha- How did you know what I was thinking?

Pyrrha: I'm psychic.

Jaune: R-Really?!

Pyrrha: No. I just have good intuition.

Jaune: Quick as a whip, she is.

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Harriet: Heya! I'm Harriet Bree, but my friends just call me Hare.

Jaune: Harriet Bree. She's been breaking track records since she was a kid! I hear she's even supposed to be a competitor in the upcoming Vytal Tournament! Without a doubt, she is the Ultimate Track Runner. Everything about her technique, physique, and, uh, proportions have been widely talked about online.

Harriet: So, uh, what was your name again? I've already forgotten it.

Jaune: Jaune Arc.

Harriet: Right... I thought it was something like that.

Jaune: No, it's not something like that. It is that.

Harriet: Gotcha! I'll hammer it in my head right now! Jaune... Arc... Jaune... Arc...

Jaune: The way she's writing in her palm is really unnerving.

Jaune: What are you doing?

Harriet: You don't know?! If you want to remember someone's name, you gotta write it in your palm three times!

Jaune: Really?

Harriet: By the way, how do you spell your last name.

Jaune: It's spelled like it sounds.

Harriet: ...Ah, I'll figure it out later! Anyways, it was nice meeting you!

Jaune: Y-Yeah, same...

Jaune: What she likes in wit, she makes up with energy.

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Qrow: Name's Qrow Branwen. Nice ta fuckin' meetcha.

Jaune: Qrow Branwen? As in... the leader of the largest bandit tribe in the kingdom?! He's earned the respect of every tribe around, earning him the title of Ultimate Gang Boss.

Jaune: ...Uh, nice to meet you, too.

Qrow: Hell yeah.

Jaune: I better be careful. One wrong word and I'm worm food!.

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Penny: Hello, I'm Penny Polendina. Nice to meet you. I'm sorry if I seem nervous. I always feel so nervous when I meet someone new. I hope we can get along.

Jaune: Same here. Nice to meet you.

Penny: I'm sorry, but have we met before?

Jaune: Uh, no? This is the first time. That's why I said, "Nice to meet you."

Penny: Oh... I'm sorry.

Jaune: You don't have to apologize, y'know.

Penny: Right. Excuse me.

Jaune: Penny Polendina is renowned all over the world for her cutting-edge programs. That's why she's the Ultimate Programmer! She's also got this cute, scared, naive bunny thing going on that makes everyone fall for her. So she has a huge legion of fans!.

Penny: I... I'm sorry.

Jaune: For what?

Penny: I've upset you. You look really angry right now.

Jaune: No, no, I was just lost in thought, y'know?

Penny: Lost in thought?

Jaune: Yeah. It has nothing to do with me being upset or anything.

Penny: Oh, thank goodness. I was starting to think you didn't like me.

Jaune: Seeing her smile... I can see how she got so many fans...

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Ruby: ...

Jaune: ...

Ruby: ...

Jaune: ...Uh, can I ask you your name?

Ruby: ...My name... is Ruby Rose.

Ruby: ...

Jaune: ...

Jaune: She's pretty quiet. But I don't think I saw her name on the list. I mean, I did see that there was someone other than me missing from the school muster sheet. Maybe she's the other unaccounted student?.

Jaune: So, uh, what are you doing here?

Ruby: What's that supposed to mean?

Jaune: No, no! It's just, everyone here is some kind of ultimate or another, so I'm wondering what you're the ultimate of.

Ruby: ...

Ruby: Why should I tell you?

Jaune: Huh? Well, uh, I guess you don't have to tell me.

Ruby: No. I don't have to. So I'm not going to.

Ruby: ...

Jaune: She's got a real iron mask going on. Guess this is where our conversation ends.

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Nora: Hiiiiiiiii~! I'm Nora Valkyrie! Charmed, I'm sure!

Jaune: Anyone would recognize her. She's on every cover of almost every magazine in almost every store. She's the envy of every girl in the kingdom, an Ultimate Fashion Icon if ever there was one!.

Jaune: I'm not sure I got the right person?

Nora: Huh? Oh... You must mean my cover photo, huh? Well, duh, they're all photoshop!

Jaune: Photoshop?

Nora: Y'know, edited to hell and back?

Jaune: Oh, so they're not real.

Nora: Geez... Don't say it like that. Now I'm gonna get all depressed. Everything is all photoshop these days! I bet you'd even be surprised by a certain diva here.

Jaune: So many dreams... crushed like a nail under a hammer.

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Ren: I am Lie Ren.

Jaune: Oh, geez, I almost asked him if he was a girl. The day I ask that out loud is the day I get turned into a human pretzel. But now I remember him. He's the world champion martial artist who won against guys three times his size. He's the famous Ultimate Martial Artist, with a win streak of 400 matches and 0 losses. Some of the online posts called him "Siren" and claimed he's secretly some kind of weird sea-primate; a missing link between man and fish. Honestly, standing in front of him, I kinda have to agree.

Ren: Excuse me.

Jaune: Y-Yes!

Jaune: Why is he poking my body?.

Jaune: Uh, what are you...

Ren: Your muscle quantity and quality are about the standard for a regular late teen male. Hm... Training with you would likely bring more harm than good. A shame.

Jaune: Maybe for you, but for me, it's a blessing!.

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Weiss: I do not believe we have been introduced. I am Weiss Apfelkuchen.

Jaune: Weiss, uh...

Weiss: Apfelkuchen. It's my name. But if you don't mind, I'd prefer you to address me as Weiss.

Jaune: Uh, excuse me, but you are from this Kingdom, right?

Weiss: Of course. Why do you ask?

Jaune: Well, then, can you tell me your real name?

Weiss: I already told you. My real name is Weiss Schnee. But as I have also stated, please address me as Weiss.

Jaune: She's polite, but she's also forceful. Guess those internet posts were right about her. She really is the Ultimate Gambler who's never lost a bet in her life. She also loves dressing in elegant, white clothes like a princess in a fairy tale. They say she entered an underground gambling ring and walked out with everyone's money. They called her, "The Queen of Lies". She laughed about it, too, they say.

Weiss: I look forward getting to know you. Heh heh...

Jaune: She's smiling, but she's a wolf. I need to watch myself.

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

Fox: Name's Fox Alistair, Fox for short. Take it easy, yeah? I'm sure I will!

Jaune: Fox Alistair, known as the legendary "Truth-Hunter" in the psychic community, is the Ultimate Clairvoyant. To be honest, I don't really get that psychic stuff. It's out of my depth. Still, I can't help but wonder if there's any truth to it.

Fox: Mm... I give up.

Jaune: Huh? What?

Fox: I thought I saw it, but I guess I missed it.

Jaune: Missed what?

Fox: I thought I saw a giant dog chasing after a teenage wizard on a motorcycle with gold threads in his mouth. And that wizard... IS YOUR PURPOSE!

Fox: ...Ha ha! I'm just kidding! But we should get some cold ones and look deep into Mu and her lost culture.

Jaune: Cold ones? I'm not old enough to-

Fox: I am. I was held back a few times, so... Ah, it's a long story.

Jaune: A few times?. Yeah I'll bet it's a long story...

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

Coco: Name's Coco Adel.

Jaune: Hi, uh, nice to meet you.

Coco: ...

Jaune: That's the most half-assed character introduction I've ever heard!. But it's not like I can do anything about it. She's a special case, even among all these special cases. Coco Adel is the daughter and heiress of the most affluent financial conglomerate in the world. She's even got her own businesses with her own personal fortune. It makes sense for her title of the Ultimate Affluent. She's the very definition of "exceptional".

Coco: Are you done? How much longer are you going to stand there? Get out of here, I'm sick of looking at you.

Jaune: One look at her, and I know she's thinking, "You and I will never be equals." She's a queen in training.

[hookedsworks]

Edge(ING) Fitness - Chapter XIV

II asks Vessel a question.

wc 495

ao3

masterpost

“You have a tattoo?” Vessel asked immediately when II came back to him with a protein shake. “Thank you,” he murmured. II was reeling. Vessel’s eyes had gone so glassy with tears the second II had raised his voice. 

“Uh, yeah,” II glanced at his arms, both completely sleeved out to his hands. 

“N..no. I um. I can see those. I thought I saw one when you adjusted your shirt,”  Vessel reached out, gesturing toward II’s shirt. 

“Oh, I see. Um, yes. Basically my whole body is tattooed,” II pulled his shirt up so Vessel could see the ink on his ribcage. From his hips all the way around his back told a story. It was the corpse of a deer, with flowers and trees spiraling up his torso, growing out of the deer’s body. It was his favorite tattoo. He was so proud of it, partly because Ivy had helped him pick it out. 

“W-wow. II, that’s beautiful,”  Vessel's eyes were roving over the ink II had exposed. He coughed and cracked the drink II had brought him. He cleared his throat. “That's good. Did the tattoo hurt?” 

“Mm, kinda. It was worth it though, I think,” II brushed his hands down over his sides. Vessel had a spacey look on his face and his gaze was locked on the tattoo. Before II could invite him to touch it, Vessel's fingers brushed against his skin. 

“It's really beautiful,” Vessel traced one long…long finger across II's back. His touch was feather light, almost teasing. II involuntarily arched into his touch. “Um…sorry,” Vessel whispered, fingers still against II's skin. He could feel just a hint of Vessel's fingernails, and goosebumps blossomed from the contact. II's mouth ran dry. 

“No…no. It's okay. I'm. I'm glad you like it. It's my favorite piece I have,” 

“I love it,” a soft smile was on Vessel's face, and II wanted to get his phone out and take a photo. II let his shirt fall, Vessel’s fingers still under it. 

“Thank you,” those pretty dark blue eyes met II's. They were glossy and bright with the smile on his face. 

“I…um… well, I should finish my workout,” Vessel chewed his lower lip again. II noticed every time he did it, and it drove II positively wild. 

“Y-yeah. Of course. I'll let you get to it. It was great talking to you. We should do it again sometime. Maybe over some black coffee with too much sugar in it?” there. II finally showed some interest. 

“Oh. Um. I'd like that. I'd like that very much,” 

“Really?” II couldn't keep the stupid grin from taking over his face. “Okay. Um. I'll DM you,” II wanted to start dancing in the middle of his gym. 

“Okay,” Vessel's own smile was large and positively captivating. He was nodding and smiling and II thought his heart might burst. 

“Okay. Um. Yay!” II clasped Vessel’s hand for a second before striding off, full of new confidence.

[batsplat]

This isn't the usual kind of ask you answer, but I've been working my way through the videopass archive sequentially and have been thinking about the historic/vintage livery that the teams are going to be using in Silverstone after the summer break quite a bit. Personally I'm very fond of the West Honda Pons' black and white livery especially with how they had the names of the riders on one side and the team name on the other, and obviously the gauloises and camel yamahas are iconic. But you've obviously watched a lot of the older seasons, so are there any liveries you'd like to see/which ones would you personally pick for the teams?

I too have been having thoughts about this! I do have some of my faves in a wee folder, and initially my picks were a bit limited in terms of range of years and teams. BUT let's do this properly. all eleven teams. my hot take for each and every one of them

CAVEAT NUMBER ONE look I don't know how 'design' or 'colour theory' or even 'taste' work. most of my reasoning doesn't extend beyond 'I thought this looks nice'

CAVEAT NUMBER TWO I also don't... quite know how this works in terms of who's allowed to use which livery? like not just the sponsor stuff, but would teams be able to use liveries from... idk, a different satellite outfit that was in the sport before they were? this ask mentions the pons liveries.... could honda teams actually use those? what if you don't have a lot of history? is anyone allowed to use mv agusta liveries? would teams go for special liveries, or just the regular ones? how strict are the rules for what you can use?

so. y'know. I'm really just guessing here what's even possible, which meant that for... uh. some of these teams. I did have to reach a bit to come up with a viable livery. let's just make clear this is all vibes and go from here

HONDA

they should have no problem with coming up with plenty of options. let's start with the west honda pons, which the ask references:

excellent pick, anon. if they can use this one, I'd very much support it! we're missing black bikes on the grid currently... this one's simple, it's classy, it's got a little bit of identity with the name written on the side. the dark red highlights work nicely. it's also a livery that, unlike some of the ones to follow, should still work well on the current bikes without losing its identity too much - though maybe you'd have to put some thought into how you'd place the actual name. should still be plenty of space though! and it'd be easily recognisable to fans who are familiar with the old livery, which I reckon is also an important metric

while we're on pons, shout out to the ducados honda pons livery:

nice shade of blue! nice design of the leathers! pleasing shape of the numbers! just has a lot of character and charm to it

anyhow, let's get to the factory honda team. the VERY first pick that popped into my head was the special livery for aragon 2011:

so I get that sense that plenty of people hate this livery and think it looks 'childish' and I'm sorry, but if you think that, congratulations on having bad taste. it's cute! honda barely ever has fun! look at how orange it is! look at the stars! there's a star on the leathers too! I'm fond of the way the front of the bike looks too, how the numbers are placed kinda messily on the star. this one's just, y'know, a bit more creative, something that's just different from how we usually expect liveries to look. screw classy and stylish, give me something with a bit of charm

moving back in time a little further, here's the valencia 2003 livery (valentino's last race with honda):

isn't she gorgeous?? I'd put that bike in my bedroom. lovely from every angle. if you look it up, you can find more photos to show it off properly - just see the sun on the top of the bike. really nice mix of the traditional repsol orange with the yellow, it all just works together. bright like the sun

and one more special livery from the early noughties (if not from the factory team), here's mugello 2001:

hardly a controversial choice, people love this one for a reason. it's pretty!! blue flowers!! this one should work reasonably well on the modern bikes too and obviously most fans should be able to recognise it. again, I don't know what the stance is on special liveries - but hey, it'd be fun to give a certain someone in your factory team a livery from this era

and going back further still, here's eddie lawson 1989:

yes, it's rothmann's honda, yes, I've decided not to care. this is my personal top pick for honda. it should be recognisable even on the current bikes, it pays tribute to honda's long history by not just sticking to something from this century, and it looks cool. clean cut colours that are nicely separated out - I really like the yellow highlights on either side of the bike, plus the way the separation of the blue and white is handled on both the bike and the leathers. it's all quite clearly demarcated, but with nice details to give it character - those stripes on the front of the bike and on the the leathers. the touches of gold. the rider's name on the side of the screen. the number on the back of the bike. cool bit of history, too, like they stole that man away from yamaha and it certainly worked out for them. it's fun!

and one more jump to the past to hailwood's late sixties honda:

this one is proper honda #heritage and I'd totally get if they go with that. my main issue is... I'm not quite sure how it'd work on today's bike, shape-wise? like, the charm here is really the simplicity, the way the orange-gold spreads over the silver. does that work if you have all the bits sticking out everywhere? maybe somebody with a better understanding of design than me can figure it out, and I do like this one. the numbers look nice. idk. it's neat

LCR

well. I guess you'd want to go with one of the cecchinello liveries here? my problem with lcr is that they seem to generally be pretty big on their retro liveries anyway - the first one I thought of... basically looks like the 2021 lcr livery anyway? boring! done that! then there's a few years that are like... silvery, but, and I know this is an unfair way to go about this, I kind of feel I've already gone silvery with a few of my other picks and they're all nicer. so, here's my pick from 2000:

it's a bit busy, but that's kinda the fun of some of these older liveries. big chunk of red, some blue, the nice bright yellow number, even all the logos are kinda fun... I like the weird shape of the white line that separates the red and the black. I don't know, it just works for me as a complete package in a way some of the other lcr liveries don't

YAMAHA

yes, gauloises yamaha. my beloved. everyone's a fan for a reason

can't not mention it!! I do think valentino's version specifically works the best because of the extra bit of flare the yellow highlights provide here. but also the GO!!!!!! thing works on every version. it's fun! sometimes it's okay to go overboard with exclamation mark numbers! this one kinda hits the sweet spot as being proper classy but also joyous, enthusiastic. just overall very much a vibe

on camel yamaha, I do like the livery, but personally I do just associate it more strongly with camel honda? which was literally the same livery. that might not have been the factory team, but those were still serious frontrunners during the early noughties... and, well, it just doesn't feel specifically yamaha to me idk

okay, I'm going to restrain myself here on the valentino livery front. yes, I too liked laguna and valencia 2005. I have only 30 images to play with here and I'm not going to blow half of them on valentino special liveries, so I'm going to stick to my two faves. assen 2007 and catalunya 2008:

they're just! fun! when it comes to liveries in general, my basic criteria are a) can I easily figure out who's riding them, and b) do they make me smile. elegance is boring, give me something more quirky and memorable and FUN. assen is just. a lot. lots of colours, such a bright and cheerful livery that still works as a complete package. the bike's fun, the livery's fun, fabio would look fantastic in this one. and catalunya (in honour of the italian national team) is just a cool idea! the football helmet! the mock shirts! the pink sleeves! there's a real creativity and charm to this one - and at the same time, the base design of the bike is actually really lovely and stylish. also I associated both of these liveries with extremely fun valentino races that I'd definitely recommend (literally two of the top six vale/casey duels), which... well you can't say that about the two 2005 liveries I mentioned above is what I'd say

now, I know I just said forget laguna 2005, but of course laguna 2005 was in itself a reference to a past yamaha livery. so cut out 2005 and just pay direct homage to the iconic late seventies design, feat kenny roberts:

another one everyone loves for a reason! it's a nice shade of yellow, it works well with the white and black... the black dashed line thingies are of course iconic and they just make the whole thing quite dynamic and snazzy

and one more. marlboro liveries do unfortunately slap, plenty of them are fan favourites... look at this red one, feat. eddie lawson 1984:

it's very. blocky. you've got the red bits the white bits the yellow bits. they have nice shapes. nice lines. the yellow bits where one's a circle type thingy and the other one's whatever you call that shape and then you've got the numbers on them. please don't read these descriptions. there's plenty of the marlboro liveries over the course of yamaha's time, but this one's my favourite. and it's the one I'd choose! I know it's super iconic but we already did a tribute to the 70s one back at laguna 2005. do this one instead! it's very yamaha but also a little more creative than the most obvious picks

DUCATI

well. if we're talking marlboro, then yes, of course the old marlboro ducati livery is very memorable:

this is a bike that looks good. there's not much more to say about it (or, well, there probably is, but again it should be obvious I don't know how design works). it's a nice shade of red, I really like how the front looks... my issue with this one is that low key it is the marlboro logo that makes it particularly distinctive. kinda feels against the spirit of the whole thing, damn those tobacco companies and their lovely bike designs

here's mugello 2006, which in itself is a retro livery. I'll allow this one and I do think it's just?? very nice??

really pleasing dull colours, three shades that work together well, got something old fashioned to it. my main problem with this one is... I don't feel like it'd look as good on the current bikes? I don't know, this one works because of the kind of... soft curves of the front of the bike. I do also think quirky and a bit in your face just suit the current bikes better than trying to keep things too classy?

my general problem is that ducati history in motogp is like... we're working with a limited sample size. and when I go through the options I do find them a bit. meh. the thing is, right, the red bikes are nice, I do like the marlboro design, but it's also still essentially a red bike. and if you translate these designs to the current bike shape, it's not going to look THAT different to the bike they're riding any other week. the mugello 2006 probably does better on that account, but I don't know. I think I am kind of committed to making them all actually switch around colours here

so I was wondering if maybe you could delve into the superbikes archive? you could go for the 2001 livery, feat. bayliss (also a motogp race winner):

I think the silver pairs quite nicely with the black leathers... also I like it whenever the bit on the front where they put the number on has a slightly quirky shape. I'm not going to pretend like this is my all time favourite livery, but I do like it well enough! it'd translate well to the current bikes, would give us a proper switch-up, works quite nicely imo

and one more from superbikes, this from 2012:

this one isn't happening for a bunch of reasons, not least because I doubt the effenbert team is one that's remembered particularly fondly by ducati. still, it passes the 'does it look distinctive' test to me, making a 'what if you threw a pint of beer over a motorcycle' livery is at the very least something different

PRAMAC

there's a few different ways you could go here, but I'd just keep it simple and go for one of the years where the pramac logo is big on one side of the bike. here's harada in 2002:

not a bad logo! you've got the arrows and everything! you've also got another more subtle silver arrow in the middle of all the white, makes the whole thing feel quite dynamic. simple colours, very pramac. bold and brash

(you could go for the 2018 mugello livery too but I philosophically reject having a 'retro' livery from 2018)

GRESINI

another satellite team that's been around for a while, and my suspicion is they'll go for one of fausto gresini's liveries. none of those... really appeal to me... so I wanted to suggest one from their telefonica movistar days back in the mid noughties. that's right: I'm talking sete's livery:

in practise, this livery does deeply annoy me in 2004 to 2005 because - despite not being in the same factories - you've somehow managed to get both title rivals in pretty damn similar liveries. like, can I tell them apart? sure. but especially with the poorer video quality, is it really necessary to make it this tricky? well! no! but also sete had this livery before his title rival switched to yamaha, so he came first. I like this one a lot! I like the way the yellow is integrated, the chequered bits around the telefonica movistar logo, good helmet too. slightly unusual patterns for the win - there's quite a lot going on with the lines on this design but it all kinda comes together. I actually think you could make this one look really good on the modern bikes, and it has a real spark and flare to it. also I would find it narratively pleasing if marc rides with sete's livery

but if gresini wants to go another way, shout out to their 2010 livery (several of the early 2010s look quite similar):

I'm not the biggest fan in the world of white liveries, but the style of this one pleases me idk. there's a slightly unusual shape on the side of this one, which I've already said I approve of. it's a nice shade of red to pair with the white. not my first pick, but I'd settle for this one

VR46

right, this is one where I really have questions. ... are they allowed to use just any of valentino's old liveries? what are the rules here? I think to maybe keep things straightforward here, I'll avoid his actual honda and yamaha liveries (those kids are not getting the gp11/12 let's be real) and stick to the lower class ones. now... those are aprilia liveries, and if aprilia wants to use some of those then please have at it. otherwise: vr46, lads, this is the way you want to go. here's 1999 (though 1998 also looks lovely):

one where the leathers and helmet really feels like a part of the design, like that's the bit that really completes the look. the dark grey base tone works as something you can layer all the fun stuff on. the font of the numbers! the warm reds and yellows! the stickers! this one's just FUN, it has a real adolescent verve and joy to it

and of course there's the mugello 1999 special livery:

she's so pretty!! recognisable! I don't even know what to say about this one apart from. look. it's fun. just something youthful and joyous and energetic to the whole thing... keeps things pretty straightforward on the colour front, the dark orange-brown highlights really brings it all together. or something

APRILIA

so. here's another question. are we just stuck with premier class liveries here? because if so, it's pretty slim pickings... but look, thirty images, we're not getting into everything they've been up to in the lower classes

luckily, aprilia do have quite a nice 2002 entry in the premier class:

dark colours are fun sometimes!! I like the shape of the ms logo! it's a bit chaotic, but in a fun way! it feels very aprilia, somehow. this would be my pick I think, I could easily transpose this to the current bikes in my mind's eye. aprilia kinda feels like it's supposed to be a bit chaotic, all those bits sticking off. love the red sleeves of the leathers

you could also go for the 2004 livery:

I'm not personally? super into the white and gold as a combination? definitely prefer the darker base colour of 2002. but it's quite distinctive - the red sleeves actually pop out more in this one. it's neat!

TRACKHOUSE

uh. um. uh. are they... allowed to run petronas colours? I mean it's basically still the same team? maybe they can borrow some aprilia ones? if not, then well they're the rahh rahh america team. I would ask ducati very nicely if maybe they could use this indianapolis 2009 livery in honour of the late nicky hayden:

I know you probably can't do that, but well! if you could, that'd be my pick for them! I like stars, america has stars on their flags, this is very rahh rahh america. the helmet and liveries are also fun and have stars on them. that's all I've got, sorry

KTM

okay, we've got an even bigger problem than aprilia here. these guys have NOT been in motogp long enough. my idea here was... so obviously ktm just do not have a suitable back catalogue of liveries, but aren't they like basically red bull? and red bull did like. a one off partnership with suzuki for laguna 2005, and suzuki isn't even in the sport any more so it's not like there's a CLASH there. I don't know how this works! whatever. I think it's nice!

it's not the most exciting thing I've ever seen in my life, but the red bull logo works well on the black. looks classy! and if suzuki gets mad then well red bull can just chuck money at them idk

the other option is... doesn't ktm own mv agusta now? go for one of those! they look quite similar for much of a decade, so I could have included another hailwood photo here - but I'm just going to use the early seventies mv agusta instead:

it's very simple, very basic. I'm not... sure this works on bikes these days. anyway I chose this one over its predecessor because I do like the stripes on the leathers, very adidas coded. if you can figure out how to make this whole design look good for the more complex bikes of today, then this would be a good pick imo. I like quirky shapes to put my numbers on... but sometimes circles are also good

TECH3

so. for a while, these are running the gauloises yamaha liveries, which we've already covered. maybe they could take the fortuna yamaha liveries instead that they used, especially if the factory yamaha squad doesn't want the kinda similar ones they ran at certain points. basically they're the red yamahas in the noughties. I'd go for 2004 tech3, which... y'know, the fortuna font is just quite nice, they're stylish liveries, they're just bikes you look at and go 'wow that sure is a nice bike'. and yes, we do need to at this point also mention the estoril 2004 spiderman livery

all I'm saying, if pedro acosta does not show up to silverstone on the spiderman bike. a part of me will be disappointed

otherwise, I thought the dunlops in 2007 were quite nice?

yes, yes, it's another yellow and black yamaha livery. but hey, it's a bit different from the one they referenced at laguna 2005, keeps things fresh. wouldn't mind this one

IN CONCLUSION

might add to these at some point, but those are kinda the first picks that come to mind! a lot of these are annoyingly recent, because most teams on the grid aren't that old. not quite sure what the rules of the game are here! which does mean that, as much as I enjoy the recent designs, I kinda hope honda and yamaha don't go for liveries from this century and dig a bit deeper in the archives

basically, what I'm looking for from the teams is a retro livery that a) is clearly recognisable to anyone familiar with said past livery, b) works with the actual shape of the current bike, c) looks different enough from their current livery, I want colour swaps, and d) looks cool. also, they should coordinate. istg if half of the grid shows up in white liveries... hopefully at least some of the teams will go for the fun ones!

[dozenssporks]

in On The Run AU with Vash often being spot lighted in the media (and posting his videos) he is a well-known personage. There is no doubt there are cosplayers. His look, the overblown reputation, the mystery of who he really is and where he came from? Definitely cosplayers.

naturally at some point vash wanders into a convention, lost, confused, wondering if it's halloween already. Searching in vain for the misplaced wolfwood he makes his way through the crowds with his bag slung over his shoulder and clothes covered in dust and dirt.

vash cosplayer #1: love the weary traveler look!

vash, his brain sputtering because the person greeting him is dressed as him: uuuh, why are you . . . me?

vash cosplayer #1: haha, probably the same reason you are! Such a cool guy but also a dork, you know?

vash: a dork

vash cosplayer #1: I mean, you've seen that goofy video with the doughnuts, right?

vash: so to speak

vash cosplayer #2 approaches: heeey! my people! Love and peace!

vash, weakly making the sign: uh, definitely

vash cosplayer #2: that coat is different, huh?

vash: uh, well, I got a new one after the first got ruined--

vash cosplayer #2: awesome! making it your own, that's neat! A lot of people are hung up on being crazy-accurate but I like how you're playing with it. Like the dark hair in the back, that's kinda striking

vash cosplayer #1: like an edgier version with a higher rating, right?

vash cosplayer #2: right! what are the tubes on the sides of your coat for?

vash: oh, extra ammo

vash cosplayer #2: cool, what a great detail. Hey, we're having a photo shoot, everyone's coming soon, wanna join?

vash, his brain giving up trying to comprehend what's happening: Sounds fun! Love and peace!

some time later vash waves the cosplayers off with a grin right as wolfwood reappears

wolfwood: there you are! sorry I wasn't answering the phone. all these people were asking me what trinity blood character I'm supposed to be. What on earth is trinity blood? Hey, what's up, you're creeping me out

vash, frozen in place, still grinning, grabs wolfwood's sleeve: I am having an identity crisis

wolfwood: uh huh and?

vash: can you tell me who I am

wolfwood: is this another Eriks thing, needle-noggin?

vash, handing wolfwood his phone: look

wolfwood: what--why--why are there like twenty of you in this picture?

vash: I don't know

wolfwood: okay, hey, leggo of my sleeve, you're crumpling it

vash: if I let go I may fall into the mirror dimension

wolfwood: you know what, I will buy you a drink if you stop being weird. But only for you, not all your other yous. I can't afford it.

vash, whimpering: I'm not accurate

wolfwood, ignoring him while he looks up trinity blood on his phone: huh

yeah the cosplayers are still on the original Trigun manga while Vash has already moved on to Maximum

[james-is-here]

Kai huffed as he leaned back against the door, shutting it in the process before sliding down to the floor. He lazily kicks his shoes off and moves them to the side.

Sighing again, his head thuds against the door as he closes his eyes. Why did he agree to three photo shoots?

He picks up his head and looks around. His whole home was dark, no light except some streaks of moon light or lamp post from the curtain that was half shut in front of the patio door.

Willing himself to push up to his feet, dragging them to his room before he stopped. He should shower, a lot of product was used on his hair and the lazy sink wash he did before coming home didn’t do much, which is obvious cause he only did it to get the majority of the products out.

He sighs and walks to the bathroom instead. Just a quick shower to clean his hair. He hopes he doesn’t wake anyone up as he turns the shower on and undressed.

When he stepped under the water, he’s glad he chose to wash up. His muscles relax and he exhaled deeply. He wanted to relax more but didn’t want to be in the shower more than needed so he opened his eyes and grabbed his shampoo and lathered it through his hair, wincing whenever his fingers got caught on tangled strands covered in gel.

He sighs as he realized he also had braids in his hair, the twinge from how tight they were braided becoming nothing as his day went on, forgetting them completely.

He needs to clean his hair but he doesn’t want to stand in the shower forever, unbraiding his hair as the water ran so he switched to filling the tub with hot water before sitting down and leaning back, enjoying the warm water before he tilts his head and reaches up to undo his braids. The soap he still had in his hair kinda helped as he untangled each one.

Lathering the shampoo through his hair again, he sinks under the water to wash off the soap. He does the same thing with his conditioner but he stayed under the water for a moment, the warmth surrounds him as he’s left to his thoughts before he sits up out of the water when he hears muffled knocking.

Wiping his face and spitting water away from his mouth, he calls out. “Yeah?” “Kai, what are you doing?” He huffs before standing up and draining the tub. “Sorry, one sec.” He grabs a towel and dries off quickly but enough so he could at least get his boxers on.

With his clothes and towel held in front of him, he opens the door to be greeted by a sleepy Hyunjin. “Sorry.” “S’fine. How were your shoots?” He asks through a yawn. “Good, tiring but good nonetheless.” Kai smiled and stepped out of the way. “Good. Uh, last i remember, Chan was trying to wait up for you.” Kai nods, returning Hyunjin’s hug when he stepped forward before walking into the room he just left.

Quickly shuffling to his room, he grabs random clothes. Black sweats and his favorite soft hoodie before he leaves his room and goes to Chan’s.

He smiles softly when he sees Chan in his bed, looking closer he sees a goose plush tucked into his arms. Kai brows furrowed, wondering where he got it before he remembered: Chan’s birthday was yesterday…

He walks out of Chan’s room back to his to grab the small gift he got for his leader before returning. He pulls out his phone for a moment, going to their youtube to see Chan’s Live. He tapped on it, scrolling through the video quickly to see that the gifts he spun for. That explains the grey material on his desk chair and the plushie.

He puts his phone away before walking over to the side of his bed and crouching down. It might be creepy, watching someone sleep, though Kai couldn’t help but admire Chan. He looked adorable bundled in his blankets, hugging the goose closer. Looking closer, at the hood draped over Chan’s head, he sees he’s wearing his hoodie, Him and his sibling initials embroidered on the hood, a gift from his mom.

Kai smiles, he doesn’t want to bother him but Hyunjin said he was waiting for him. Why was he waiting for him?

He reaches a hand up, moving under the hood to lightly scratch at Chan’s scalp and brush a hand through his hair. The male groans before turning into a whine as he turned his face into the pillow. “Channie-Hyung?” With more movement and sounds of denial of wanting to be awake, Chan opens his eyes and smiles. “Hi…” He whispers. “Hey, Jinnie said you were waiting up for me?” He hums, taking Kai’s hand into his own and he sighs, closing his eyes again. “What for? I told all of you that I had photo shoots today for different brands.” “Was worried when you came back after the second one…looked tired…wanted to check you.”

Kai chuckles softly at his sleepy speech. “I got you something.” His eyes open and light up as he shifts to try and see what it was. “What is it?” Chan may sound greedy but he loves every gift Kai gives him, no matter what, even on random days, Kai gifts him something handmade with occasional times of bought gifts from stores.

“You want to open it or what?” “No, comfy, can you?” Kai laughs. “Yeah, but I need my hand.” He pouts but let’s go of Kai’s hand. He sets the bag between his knees, still squatting next to the bed, before reaching into the bag and pulling both items out.

“Two gifts?” Kai flushes before speaking, softly rubbing the material. “Uh, sort of. They are matching hoodies, you are always stealing my family hoodie so during any free time I had, i embroidered these hoodies for us. My mom ironed the custom patches on but I was able to pick them up to stitch them.”

They were black hoodies with a patch on the back showing Kai and Chan’s SKZoo cuddled up to one another. Kai’s sister machine sewed ‘My only Hyung’ on Kai’s and “My Duckling” on Chan’s.

When Kai got a hold of them, he embroidered a heart and their initials on the left sleeve along with vines and roses on the hood edge and the pull strings were white.

He holds it up for Chan to see and when Chan read it, he sat up quickly, taking his hoodie from Kai and laying it out on his lap, a finger tracing the patch. “They’re so cute…” He mumbles as he looks up and grabs Kai’s hoodie to look at it too. He read Kai’s hoodie a couple more times before he looks over when he feels Kai’s hand on his face.

“Hyung? Why are you crying?” Chan chuckles, moving the hoodies to the side before moving the blankets. Kai barely blinked before Chan wrapped his arms around his waist and squeezed, resting his head in the crook of his neck to hide his tears. “I-I’m sorry.” “No…” Chan says. “It’s fine.” He pulls back, looking at Kai’s eyes as he smiled. “The hoodies are amazing, it’s so cute.” “Oh, well, thanks but why are you crying?”

“Cause every gift you get me, even the random ones for days that don’t mean anything, it’s so personal and heartwarming. Even for the others, it’s mostly all handmade gifts, I can’t remember the last thing you gifted to me that wasn’t handmade.” “These.” Kai poked Chan’s chest, gesturing to the necklace he was wearing which he bought for their fifth anniversary, Kai felt like it was a gift for saying thanks for choosing him and believing in him. It was a small silver chain with a small ‘KC’ pendant.

“Really?” “Yup.” “Wow…” Chan replied before hugging the male tightly again. “Thank you.” “You don’t need to thank me.” “I do though, when picking you, I didn’t know how thoughtful you would be.” “My mom taught me to give from the heart.” He says causally as he wraps his arms around Chan.

“I…I love you, Kai.” Kai laughs. “Love you too, Hyung, we all do.” “N-No…I-I really…” Chan steps back shakily, removing himself completely from Kai as his hands fidget. “Channie?” “I’m sorry…” “It’s okay, what were you going to say?” “I love you…but more than…I love the other boys…” Kai’s brows raise as his mouth falls open slightly.

“Oh…” “I’m really sorry, I- Thanks, again for the hoodie…” Chan was trying to dismiss what he said and move on but Kai snapped out of his daze, placing a hand on Chan’s cheek and turning him to meet their gazes. His thumb wipes away the tears under his eyes, trying to sooth Chan. “I’m sorry…” He whispers, almost inaudible, as he tries to look away.

“It’s okay, Hyung…Look at me, jagiya…” His eyes widen as he stops trying to look away, his eyes glossy. “It’s okay.” He smiled softly before kissing his forehead, wrapping his arms around Chan’s shoulders and hugging him tightly as he shook with silent cries.

His left arm stayed around his shoulders as his right moves so his hand rubs up and down his back. “C-Can you say it again?” “Say what, jagiya?” Chan exhales and Kai can feel him smiling into his neck. “Do you want to be babied? Do you like that name, agi?” Chan tries to hide his face further into his neck as he giggles.

“I can, y’know?” “What?” “If you want to have less responsibility during our free time, you can come to me and just relax.” “Thank you.” “Of course, bubby.” “How many names do you have?” “So many, it may or may not get worse.” Chan laughs and pulls away from Kai. He smiles, taking Kai’s hoodie off and putting his new one on. Giggling, he hands Kai his, receiving a smile and head shake as he removed his hoodie and put on the other.

Chan tossed to hoodies somewhere and sat on his bed before grabbing Kai’s writer and pulling him forward. Chan slides over, giving Kai room before he fell on top of him and forced Kai to cuddle.

The older snuggled further into Kai, who wrapped his arms around Chan tightly, and took a deep breath. “Hey, this is my cologne…” “Yeah, mine is sprayed on yours.” Chan shyly lifted the collar to his nose to smell it and he gasps softly. “You didn’t think I would know what you favorite cologne of mine is? I know it’s you getting me new bottles of it whenever it low.” Chan blushes, tucking his face into Kai’s neck as he pulled the blankets over them and hugged Chan closer.

Who would’ve thought his heartfelt gifts would get him into dating his group leader…feels weird, but a good weird that has Kai falling asleep with a smile on his face.

[maguro13-2]

The Dark Picture ~ Origins of the Ink Demon : Operation Drawcia Pt.10 ~

[BINGO Highway - Keiichi Sugiyama]

Announcer : 3...2...1 LET'S GO BINGO!

Maka Albarn : !! (Hits ball with hammer)

Announcer : And they're off!

Maka Albarn : I'm gonna win this for the man I was told!

Haruko : This one's going to be mine to win!

Bulma : Step aside! Cause Bulma Briefs is on the stakes! Let's spin it to win it!

Lucy Heartfilia : Heheheheh. There goes the bigshot this year, hoping that who's gonna win big here, this should be prove entertaining to get the stakes on who proclaims to be hero or not. Hmm? (looks at the screen) That girl...Isn't she from the Ohkuboverse? What do we have here? Could this be the one that is going in the bag or will she die trying to figure her life out? Just imagine if that girl who looks similar to the one Ohkuboverse's past. Maybe If I get into contact with her, this should be a good idea.

Maka Albarn : The stakes are mine!

Haruko : You ever think someone in your life, bro!?

Bulma : Fat chance! None shall stand in my way!

Daicon Girl : The Stakes is mine to take! So I'm winging it!

Maka Albarn : No way!

Haruko : That's my way to shine! I'm getting the goods!

Lucy Heartfilia : (in mind) What fascinating display of how a girl was mistaken for her misdeeds, sounds like this one should prove entertaining. I'd like to see this how this goes.

[suddenly the entire casino blacks out]

Announcer : Uh-oh! Uhh, folks. There seems to be some minor technical difficulties.

Lucy Heartfilia : Huh?

(people screaming and panicking)

Lucy Heartfilia : What's with this sudden black out? What's going on here? What's with this black out?

Maka Albarn : Hey, what's going on! Who turned out the lights!?

[THUNDER CRASHING]

Maka Albarn : !?

Cream the Ribbit : What's with this weird sudden trance light! It feels kinda weird!

Maka Albarn : Look! Up there! That floating Magician's hat!

Casino Pawn : Oh no! It's him!

(a magician appears coming out his hat)

Casino Pawn : WIZ!

"WIZ : THE MAGICIAN OF MIRROR WORLD!"

Wiz : So...I smell a rat that that scourging in the Casino. Why not have some fun while you can?

[Monkey Business - Jun Senoue]

Maka Albarn : Who is that?

Lucy Heartfilia : A magician from the Mirror World? What's it doing here in the casino? Is it something that no one would give him extra credit for this?

Bulma : [To Wiz] Who are you!?

Wiz : Why I am the great Wiz, the Magician from Mirror World! I see that you have a fair common sense of your raising the stakes. I'm just here for the girl that was mistaken for her crimes against humanity. See this picture? (shows a photo of Maka Albarn) This one here is a mystery to find this 14-year old girl and we've been tracking her down since she sniffed out the reaper's castle like a dog. Now tell me, where can you find this Maka Albarn person that is responsible of laying waste to Japan's population?

Haruko : No way, dirt bag! I'm not gonna tell you on anything! We don't have time quiz games, mad hatter! [To Bulma] You tell him, guys! He's a such joke to be a magcian!

Wiz : What!? A JOKE TO YOU!?! I AM THE MIRROR'S WORLD GREASTEST MAGICIAN EVER AND YOU WILL--*clears throat* Sorry for my behavior, humble apologies. Now then, where is the one that I call the name "Maka Albarn".

Maka Albarn (?) : Hey, Top Hat! Over here! You think that I was Maka Albarn in a bunny girl's costume...but it was I...(converts into her true form; Inky Albarn) Inky Albarn!

[My World - Jun Senoue]

Wiz : What the-!? Hey, you're that queen was imprisoned by Drawcia 70 years ago! The Queen of the Ink Demons herself! You got a lot of nerves to thinking that you are a look alike to Maka Albarn. Where is this girl named Maka Albarn, demon queen? what in heaven's name did you--

Inky Albarn : Heh! The real Maka Albarn is at the Reaper's castle. She's fine by the way. I just happened to be disguising myself as her in a Bunny Girl's costume or we like to call it Playboy Bunny if you know what I mean.

Wiz : You old hag! What do you want from Wiz or something?

Inky Albarn : My son! (shows a picture of Inky Jr) I want information about the Dark Picture, now! Let's get everything down to business, first of all, I want someone that is strong enough to beat me in a duel, with that information gained from you, I'll let you decide that I will be the one to lead our selves out of the shadows. Now then, you would go mind boggling to a 70-year old queen, I maybe young, but I'm 70 years old.

Lucy Heartfilia : And I thought she was a young girl or something, totally mind freaked about it.

Wiz : You're on, My fair lady. I should consider this to a duel, but let's see if you can handle one of the Mirror World's magical creatures! Behold, have a present for ya!

Inky Albarn : Why thank you, kind Magician. I would like to have a present if it was monster inside or literally--(sees a horde of Boxy in front of them) Just a monster that is a present with a ribbon for a head.

Wiz : I'd like you meet my magical pet, Boxy! This monster is special, I made her a well trained creature that is soon to be ready to bring you a gift, you being a tasty treat as a dribbling chew toy! Now then boxy! Be a good girl and show that demon queen how we do casino business! Make the humans your tasty snacks!

[Robot Carnival/Robot Storm - Jun Senoue]

Inky Albarn : I'd like to see you die trying, but dying should make you laugh it out! I'll take her on, just don't get myself cocky while I still can!

Haruko : Hey, help us out! Don't leave me hanging! You ready for this!

Bulma : I never felt this better!

Daicon Girl : Hope we don't mind sticking around! This is going to get crazy!

Lucy Heartfilia : Let me Join in the fight as well! (convert into her Clear Heart Robe uniform) I haven't got this much excitement from Erza Scarlet! Hope you're willing to get crazy tonight, girls!

Haruko : Let's put these present boxes on a leash! It's time that we smash them good!

Wiz : Go my Boxy! Destroy them now!

(the boxy horde charges)

Haruko : CHAAAAAARGE!!!

*DBZ SFX : SLASHING+CUT*

Wiz : GAAAAAAH!!! MY PRECIOUS BOXY GIRL!!!

Haruko : What? What's the interruption?

Marluxia : Excuse me for the intrusion, but did someone say "Maka Albarn"?

Wiz : Uhh...We did.

Inky Albarn : Say...You're a scythe wielder like me.

Marluxia : Why thank you. I am too a Scythe Wielder.

[Organization XIII - Yoko Shimomura]

Inky Albarn : Anyways, who are you exactly.

Marluxia : I am Marluxia, but the Organization call me the Graceful Assassin!

"Marluxia : The Graceful Assassion of Organization XIII"

Inky Albarn : It's an assassin? What a shocking coincidence I might add, how come you're an assassin while you're still a scythe wielder?

Marluxia : That is not of your concern, I was sent here to dispose of those who seek into the truth and I've come destroy the puppets of the devil's influence.

Inky Albarn : "Devil"? You mean Shinra Kusakabe, no one's will shall control me, I am the queen of the Ink Demons, and you're just joking about it, right? Come on, I mean...you're a guy with pink hair, how do you want to dispose of those who seek into the truth? Maybe you got the wrong idea here.

Marluxia : I do not joke about it and these lies from the Devil's influence, it hurts more than it hurts the truth. They mean nothing to us! Humans and Witches shall overcome their fear and hatred against others, those who seek truth or tell a lie will perish, and to show you to the appreciation that I must give you, I shall lead you for a brand new start by collecting data as we all know it, the heart and soul filled with light and darkness. I demand you give it to us personally.

Inky Albarn : No way, hombre! Not happening! It's going to take a lot of minute to clean this one up. Get out of here, Daicon Girl. This one's a tough one to battle me in a duel.

Daicon Girl (?) : That's a good question about saving my life, ya old hag!

*DBZ SFX : THUNDER CRASH*

Inky Albarn : Wha-!? Hey, who are you, poser?

Larxene : So much for wearing that disugise, them Bunny Girls are giving me the itch or the sniffles!

Inky Albarn : Let me guess, you're one of them, aren't you? Lightning Larry.

Larxene : That's Larxene to you, old hag!

"Larxene : Electrical Member of Organization XIII"

Larxene : Now then, I'm gonna go easy on with you by juicing myself up, queeny! I'm about to go Static Shock up your bum! If you're willing to take us on to see the likes of Maka Albarn or that messed punked kid named Crona, THEN BRING THAT SH**, MOTHERF***ER!

Inky Albarn : Alright, you asked for it! Time for me to bust some balls, and yours will have to do next.

~ Mission 09 : Deadly Assailants of XIII ~

[emeritus-fuckers]

uhm hello hi this is for the match up thing

so uh looks wise i’m a 5’6 female, extremely fucking pale😭😭 i have dyed dark red hair that’s like quite long. i have light blue eyes and i have freckles. fashion style wise uh i’d say it’s like kinda like sort of fairy grunge in a way if u know what that issss but my makeup always varies between like what i’m wearing/how bothered i can be... idk where this should go but i am a scorpio who was born on halloween so i pride myself on that!!!!

uh personality wise i’d say i keep to myself and my close friends a lot i can be pretty talkative if i’m talking about my passions tho, i’d say i’m loyal cause like i’ve had the same friends for years and i’ve never replaced any of them for anyone ever, i can get quite jealous easily but that’s down to attachment issues (womp womp) 👎👎👎 my friends say i’m a really funny person so!!! does nostalgic count as a personality trait?? because like people always speak to me if they want to like feel like the old times but that’s because i’m stuck in the past a little too much and have like quite a good memory…..errr….i’m good at comforting people i guess and at giving advice since i was my friend groups like therapist friend.. people have told me i look quite intimidating at first glance but when they get to know me i’m not but that’s just cause i have like a raging rbf😭😭 i’ve been told i’m quite like helpful aswell and i like doing favours for people i care about tho so!!! i’m also very sentimental. and i am almost worryingly competitive….i will throw whatever is in arms reach at you if i lose…but i guess i’m just quite a quiet person unless you’re in my close friends circle then i can be quite loud and energetic…but i do have like crippling anxiety so…..slay….

okay uh interests wise i really like painting, reading, baking, listening to music, photo taking, i’m like really into the paranormal and like spiritual shit like crystals, incense, and i’m currently learning tarot!! i’m also very into history. my music taste is like all over the place so i can’t name any specific genres but some artists are; ghost (obvs), lana del rey, fleetwood mac, mitski, kate bush, abba ykkkk

here is some add on info!! : my favourite colour is purple. my favourite animal is cats, and i have a black and white one called crystal. i have like an uncontrollable obsession with candles and incense….i am a hoarder for that shit. my fav board game is uno because i am literally the master but i will throw the cards at your face if i lose….my favourite season are autumn and spring because i’m indecisive, favourite weather is rain but only if i’m indoors if i’m outdoors then it’s snow. i am a just dance PRO. my fav movie is phantom of the operaaaa, my fav tv show is either modern family or what we do in the shadows. my fav book genre is either fantasy or romance. if i was one of the seven sins i would def be fucking gluttony cause like i am snacking all day everyday, i have such a sweet tooth omgg…..

sorry if this is very vague especially for personality wise i just have no sense of my personality and would need to be told what i’m actually like to know….but my friends are asleep…..so!!!! 😭😭😭

Your match is... Secondo

To him being born on Halloween is just the coolest thing. He always gets carried away with your birthday celebrations.

He can handle you getting jealous, he understands it comes from attachment issues.

He loves how loyal you are. It's a trait he values highly in people.

This man is an expert at uno so you won’t always win.

While your competitiveness greatly amuses him (he’s very fond of it), if you throw cards at him, he will raise an eyebrow with an amused smile. The smile that means you are in trouble.

If you allow him too, it will most likely end in him pinning you down on the table and punishing you in a very enjoyable manner.

He is very impressed by your good memory. He will often ask you to tell stories of your first dates together.

He also loves hearing about your past to learn more about you.

He doesn’t open up much about his feelings but when he needs to talk he’ll go to you.

You both look very intimidating before people get to know you.

When you are feeling anxious he’ll spend the day with you. Baking, reading, photography or painting. He loves doing that stuff with you.

He helps you learn Tarot

He is very fond of your cat Crystal (don't tell another soul).

Because Crystal is black and white he’ll call them 'Papa Crystal'.

Ps I’ve just seen your other ask re this matchup, I will add this: He always leaves food on his plate for you to eat. He says he’s full but really he just enjoys seeing you happy when you steal his food.

~

This post is a part of Match-up Event. The Event ended on July 15th.

Written by Nyx

[your-local-grubdog]

Together in the Storm Chapter 11: Lil' BEAST of a Child!

Story Summary: Olimar is back home once again, ready to rest and recuperate from everything that had happened. Yet the universe keeps throwing unwanted surprises his way, making rest difficult. He just wants to make his (now rather large) family believe that he’ll be okay. Because he is, for he has to be.

Story ratings: No archive warnings apply, Teen and Up Audiences, and General/Non-Ship Focused

Chapter Summary: Olimar recalls the time when Captain Destiny met his son.

Read on Ao3 here!

Still no chapter art as I have a huge art project due in four days as of posting this. Art should hopefully be back for chapter 12!

===

Olimar sat in his office, looking through an old book of some sort. It was a thick, hearty thing, with cartoonish renditions of baby bottles on the front. It also has some frog stickers placed half-hazardly all over the front and back of it. He stared at each page for much longer than needed before slowly turning to the next, so absorbed in his task that he almost didn't notice Nova and Louie play-wrestling a bit too roughly right outside of his glass office door.

Almost.

"Cetacea, may you let the boys know that I can see them and that if they don't want me to intervene then they need to tone it down a bit?"

"Of course, Sir."

The boys soon stopped, seeming slightly spooked, before turning to Olimar's door. He merely paid them a sly smile, trying not to chuckle at how guilty they both looked. He only looked up and gave them his full attention when Louie opened the door.

"S-Sorry, dad..." Louie began, soon trailing off. "Uh, what do you got there?"

Olimar closed the book, setting it down. "You're alright, I was just stopping a problem before it could really get started." He then tapped on the book's cover. "This is Nova's baby photo book. Goes a bit beyond 'baby', actually, but still. I don't think I've shown you his or Lunas' yet. I could-" he paused for a moment before looking at Nova. "If he's okay with it, of course."

Louie rose a brow before looking down at Nova. The boy tensed a bit, seeming uncertain, before nodding. They both slowly approached Olimar, looking over his shoulders to take a peek at the book as he opened it back up. As expected, it was filled with pictures of him when much younger, around toddler age in this section. Nova then pointed at a photo, his ears wiggling. "You've never shown me that one. Uh, who is that?"

The photo was of an older woman with dark brown fur and coiled black hair swept to one side. She wore a puffy green flight jacket, jeans, and brown combat boots in the photo. And in her arms was little Nova, wearing a bright yellow shirt, soft blue shorts, and a yellow ribbon attached to a matching headband. He was staring at the camera in a... mildly creepy way, actually.

"I just added it in this morning." Olimar explained. "It... it hurt to much, to add it before. But I can't - and shouldn't - hide it away forever. Her name is Destiny - Captain Destiny. She was my captain when I was around Louie's age."

Nova's eyes went wide then, looking up at his father. "You never talked about your old crew before."

"Ehh..." he chuckled nervously. "Not gonna lie, most of them were jerks. I hardly had a spine at the time, plus I was... different. They picked on my quite a bit. Never bothered to keep in touch after the crew disbanded." He then pointed at the photo. "Our Captain, however, was great. Took me under her wing quite quickly. Mentored me, helped me out."

"Kinda like you did for me?" Louie asked.

Olimar was silent for several moments. "Yeah..." he finally managed out. "A lot like it, actually... she'd visit sometimes. She and Rose got along very well, and she got to meet you as well - er, as you were then, anyways. Would baby sit for us when she could, which wasn't often." he then poked his son's nose affectionately. "Would indulge in your insistent need to play in the mud, though."

At that Nova snorted before shrugging. "At least she was more fun, then, from the sound of things."

"Uh-huh." Olimar narrowed his eyes playfully before looking back to the page. "This was taken the day she met you. I can... tell you both the story, if you'd like." When both boys nodded eagerly, he leaned back into his chair. "We had just gotten back from a delivery run, and she wanted to check in on me..."

===

"T-thanks for offering to come over, Destiny."

"Don't sweat it, kid." The older woman chuckled as she followed Olimar through the house. "Where's that pretty lil' lass of yours now, hmm?" When Olimar's immediate response was to grumble a little, she began to laugh. "Oh, don't start on that now, boy. You know I'm teasin'."

"Yeah, yeah..." he rolled his eyes. "She's taking the chance to see her friends, hasn't gotten to go out much sense Stella was born."

"I see... speakin' of which..." They turned the corner and saw a young toddler wearing a bright yellow shirt, soft blue shorts, and a yellow ribbon attached to a matching headband. She was sitting in a playpen, messing about with toys. "It'll be nice to finally meet her, givin' how often ya brag about her."

"How could I not brag about my baby?" Olimar teased in response, lifting her up. He sat on the couch with his pup, beckoning Destiny over to sit next to him. "Stella, meet Destiny!" He moved her hand as if she was waving, smiling wide. Stella, on the other hand, just stared blankly at Destiny.

"Ah... Not much of a talker, is she?" Destiny asked wearily.

Olimar just shrugged before patting his pup's head gently. "She can babble, make sounds that almost resemble "mama" and "papa". Uh, she does go quiet around strangers though..."

"I can see that. Still, she's quite cute."

"Isn't she?" Olimar smiled wider then. "Rosie and I just adore her. It hasn't been easy taking care of a baby, don't get me wrong, but it's been absolutely worth it."

"Oh, I'm sure. Kids will never get easier. But I know you both were waiting a long time for the gods ta' finally bless you with this lil' one."

Olimar was quiet for a few moments before nodding slowly. He then set Stella back in the play pen, who promptly returned to playing with the various toys laid out for her. "It's been... Very hard. I don't - don't think I've ever told you everything."

Destiny's ears leaned back then, though she stayed quiet as she watched her young crew member lean into the couch, seeming almost... Limp.

"It's - It's taken us so so long... I've come home from work numerous times to find Rosie sobbing. It would take all night to console her, if I was able to at all. She... She was a wreck, captain." He stayed quiet for a long while then, watching as Stella bat a toy around, practically pouncing on it like a cat. Fairly typical behavior for a Hocotation pup, actually. "But... Now that Stella has been born, I think... I think her being alive has made Rose feel a lot better. She doesn't really cry much at all anymore."

Destiny nodded slowly as she tried to absorb everything. Eventually, she laid a hand on his shoulder. "She's a... A lil' rainbow baby then, I take it?"

Olimar was quiet for a long period before slowly nodding. At that point, Destiny began to rub his shoulder in an effort to calm him.

"I'm so sorry, kiddo. I'm sorry... I know it's not much, but..." She trailed off for a bit, leaving Olimar to twitch his ears as he sat up a bit. "May I see her?" She then asked.

Olimar silently nodded as he handed Stella over. The pup stared Destiny down, as if... She were prey. Well, also typical for a Hocotation pup. Probably. They were a predator species after all, and soon she'd be trying to hunt down small creatures. Eventually, she could spend that energy on sports or something. Destiny smiled at the child, holding her up a bit. "I may not be around much, but I can still be the lil' one's Nona!"

At that, Olimar blinked in surprise. "Oh - y-you don't got to-"

"I know." She hummed, lowering the kid and holding her close. "I also didn't need to do everything else. But I do, because you three matter a lot to me."

"I..." Olimar began, at a loss for words. Eventually his ears leaned back as he smiled sadly. "T-Thank you..."

"Of course."

Olimar stayed quiet for a few moments longer before eagerly standing up. "W-Well, if you wanna be the kid's Nona then we should get a picture of the two of you together!"

Destiny chuckled as she watched the man hurry away, hunting down a camera. "Yeah, that sounds nice..." She looked at little Stella, soon poking the kid's nose. "That sounds very nice..."

===

"She sounds kind." Nova hummed. "Why did she stop visiting?"

Olimar was quiet for several moments before being able to speak again. "She - she passes away when you were young." His ears slowly began to droop down then. "I was - it never - I..." He started and stopped his sentence a few times before giving up and sighing. He then turned his had to Nova slightly when the boy wrapped his arms around him. "Thanks, kiddo." He gently pat his back, soon feeling Louie lay a hand on his other shoulder. "And you too." 

"...I'm sorry, Olimar." Cetacea began. "Loosing  parent couldn't of been easy."

"She wasn't my-" Olimar retorted quickly, fur fluffing up from embarrassment. But then he paused and, after a few moments, his fur laid back down. He then let out a sigh, pulling both of his boys in closer. 

"Thank you."

[secretgamergirl]

My weird relationship with profile pictures

So I saw this making the rounds the other day, and felt maybe just a little targeted because... mine’s kinda similar.

I have kind of a complicated relationship with this sort of thing. I started this blog uh... pushing a decade ago, at a time I otherwise WAS NOT out as trans to literally anyone, and surrounded by people I (unfortunately quite correctly) guessed would have a huge problem with it when I did come out. So here, I had absolutely no identifying info of any kind, profile pic included, and was just hunting information on transitioning resources. My oldest posts explaining this have been long since nuked too since, well, I’ve gotten more paranoid over the years.

When I started up a Twitter account back in the day, more or less exclusively to link articles on here to a hopefully wider audience, same deal. Back then if you didn’t set a profile picture you just got this egg on a random colored background. Pretty sure I ended up with a violet background and you know, the egg wasn’t bad iconography for my purposes. And people absolutely HATED this because turns out at the time people would mass-register burner accounts and make no effort so you’d have a stalker and just get this whole pile of angry eggs in your feed, then maybe me saying something friendly and weirding you out.

So people were pressuring me to switch over to literally just anything, which I was tempted to consider, but while I was pondering that, there was this other pseudonymous-for-safety trans girl I knew who was almost as paranoid as I was, but had a real avatar. This one funny picture of a dog... and uh, she got doxed based on that alone. It was something like she ran a server for something else, that dog image was saved to that machine somewhere, some shot in the dark stalker-y tied it to a profile on that site, and from there unraveled that thread enough to get her legal name, I think her address even, and started really raining serious hell down on her. So that scared me the hell out of making a change.

I did since loosen that policy up a little, and started using profile pictures over there if anyone was sufficiently bothered by the one I had to just post something else and demand I swap it in. Did that a couple times, then had the added problem of people who’d provided earlier ones being upset I was using something else. Sorry about that by the way.

Anyway, this is still kinda the way I live my life. I don’t show any of myself if I can help it. I can’t recall ever uploading photos of myself anywhere, nor videos. Beyond letting a few vague facts slip, like, you know, being some absolutely gigantic trans woman, I don’t let personal details out, and I don’t use profile pictures anywhere, unless someone actively suggests one. And I still get constantly stalked and harassed even with that.

Somewhere along the line people got frustrated by the lack of info on me, made a bunch up, started circulating that, and like, going so far as to “issue corrections” to stuff like game credits sites that correctly had the name I’ve used professionally for as far back as anyone’s going to want to look up, convincing them to change it to whatever random BS they pull off some sketchy website or other, and while that’s actually a serious problem for me when I’m looking for work and have to explain to people looking up previous projects why they find some other person’s name in place of mine, I also get rather unfortunately frequent sneak peeks of the sort of violent stalker crap I’d be dealing with if they had real leads. Photos taken of random houses, anonymous messages that are all like “I know you’re really Albert Zuckerman” or whatever with some rando’s photo embedded, “found you” with arrows drawn pointing at random people in group photos, crap like that. It’s always kind of relieving to confirm they’ve all tricked each other so thoroughly, but the version of that I’d get if there were real things to go on I’d really prefer to keep living without.

So, you’re stuck with the sleepy triangle. At least until someone goes out trophy hunting fascists with enough gusto the rest go into hiding, or someone hooks me up with some kinda like private high security mansion with on-site security or something. Sorry if you don’t like seeing it?

[inviswounds]

Inside a Photograph - Jonathan Byers

WARNINGS: Mention of death, second-hand embarrassment (lmao) & mention of a family?

SUMMARY: Jonathan interrupts you in the dark room working on some of your photographs and the two of you bond over your love of photography.

A/N: This is bad but I think its also kinda cute

Your POV:

The hot summer breeze fell harshly upon Hawkins, not allowing anyone to keep cool. Most people found themselves at the beach during weather like this, but instead, you were sitting inside the dark room finishing some photographs. The red light covered every inch of the room, protecting the photos from being exposed to unwanted light. You had to fan blasting on the highest mode, trying desperately to cool down the hot room. 

As you hung another photo to dry, a bright light tore through the room, forcing you to angrily shout towards it. 

"Oh, come on!" You yelled, throwing your hands up. 

"Sorry, sorry!" A voice through the light called back, quickly making their way inside and shutting the door. "I didn't know anyone was in here!" Your eyes adjusted back to the darkness, focusing on a familiar face. Jonathan Byers.

"You didn't see the light on beside the door?"

"No, sorry, I was in a rush to get in here and just assumed no one would be using it." He replied, fidgeting with his fingers. "No one ever really uses this room except me."

"Yeah, well, I usually do my prints at a studio across town," You started, turning to face him. "But I had no way to get there today so I'm just using this dark room." You folded your arms and looked around awkwardly. "Um– is that alright?" You asked. Jonathan quickly nodded, his mouth opening in search of words to say. 

"Yeah! Uh– yeah! Totally." He stuttered, nodding repeatedly. There was a moment of silence as you turned to continue working on your photographs. "I uh– I didn't know you were into photography." He moved closer to you, looking over your shoulder at the photos. 

"Yeah, I love it."

"Me too." He said quickly, a smile forming on his face. "I uh– I've never–" He started, "Um– I've never really had anyone to talk to about it, I guess." Being distracted by your work, you just nodded and smiled. He gulped as he glanced around the room nervously, desperately trying to think of something to say. Jonathan had always been a very awkward person and usually, he didn't mind it, but right now, he wished he could just act cool. "So..." He sucked in a breath as he took a small step forward, now directly beside you, and turned to face you.

"So..." You repeated. 

"Um, what is this for?" He asked, nodding to the photograph hanging on the line of string in the air. You looked up and followed his eyes to the photo, then turned back to the one you were working on. 

"That one was for a friend, it's a photo of her and her boyfriend." You answered. You gently pulled another photograph from the tray and hung it on the line to dry. 

"And that one?" He said, looking at the one you had just hung. You placed your hands on your hips and took a step back, admiring the photo. 

"That ones for my port folio, for school," You started. You smiled as you looked at it. It was the most beautiful image of water droplets falling from a flower with a garden filled with more behind it. "It might not be my best work, but I like it." 

"Does it have a particular meaning?" He asked. You paused for a moment, starring at the photograph hanging from the rope. It did have a special meaning to you. It was a photo of your grandmother's garden. When you were younger, she taught you all about the different kinds of flowers and what each one of them needed to survive. You enjoyed spending time with your grandmother, even if it was gardening. At the time, you hated being out in the sun and digging out dirt to plant flowers in. But now, you would do anything to do it once last time with her. 

Last winter there was a huge drought that devastated the town your grandmother lived in. Because of the lack of rain, the flowers all died and there wasn't a sustainable amount of water to revitalise the garden. Sadly, your grandmother passed later that winter. You took that photo the day she passed and the first day that it rained, signalling the end of the drought. You remember sitting inside with her and watching the rain trickle down the window. The two of you smiled when you realised you could start growing the garden again. 

"Y/N?" Jonathan's voice pulled you out of your trance. You blinked a few times as your eyes focused on him and you thought about what to say.

"Oh! Uh– nope!" You lied, quickly moving on to a different photograph. "It's just a pretty picture." You gulped as your eyes pooled with tears that threatened to spill. You bit your lip to stop it from trembling as you tried your best to hold the tears in. It didn't take long for Jonathan to notice, however, he felt like it wasn't his place to say anything.

He looked around the room again, glancing between the hanging photographs and pictures placed on the wall before his eyes locked back on you. He licked his bottom lip and sucked in a breath.

"I'd love to show you some of my work sometime." He choked out. You paused and turned to face him.

"Really?" You asked softly. You knew that Jonathan was into photography since he always wore a camera around his neck but you also knew that he never really liked showing any of his photos to anyone. He was shy and usually feared people's judgment. Photography was the one thing he could just keep private and not have anyone make fun of. 

"I mean, yeah, if you'd want," He said. "I'd love some feedback from someone who actually understands photography, ya know?" You watched his face light up at the mere mention of photography. You smiled back at him and nodded. 

"Yeah, sure, that would be cool." You replied before turning back to continue your work. His finger ran along the table as he walked a few steps away from you, before his eyes met on a small brown satchel laid against the table with a few photographs spilling out of it. He picked one of them up and smiled. It was a photo of your family. His smile faded when he noticed your absence in the picture. 

"You're always behind the camera?" He asked. Your attention stayed primarily focused on the photograph you were working on. 

"What?" You asked, turning slightly to see him. Your eyes widened when you saw the picture in his hand. You quickly ran towards him and snatched the photograph away from him.

"I just noticed that you're never in any of these photos." He said. 

"Well yeah, obviously, i'm the photographer." You replied, shoving all of the pictures back into your bag. 

"Hey, I get it." He added. You turned to face him, now realising how close you had gotten. The two of you looked at each other for a moment before you both quickly took a step back. Both of you – as very awkward teenagers – locked your eyes on the floor. A few moments of silence passed before one of you spoke.

"I'm uh– I'm gonna go." Jonathan said, avoiding eye contact. He nodded to himself before heading towards the door. His hand reached for the door knob and slowly turned it.

"Wait, Jonathan!" You called. He turned around with his lips pressed together, nervous for what you were about to say. You quickly grabbed a small piece of paper and scribbled your house's phone number on it before handing it to him. He looked at the paper. "You might need that if you want some feedback on your photos." He looked up at you as you smiled at him. His eyes locked with yours and he smiled back before exiting out the door. 

You cringed at the harsh bright light that suddenly hit the room before disappearing. You starred at the door for a moment, thinking about whatever had just happened, before making your way back to the photograph you were working on. As you slid the photo out of the tray, you smiled at the thought of Jonathan Byers.

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