#because I see all these posts about how brave it is to come out and how much better it is to live as your authentic self

[maruflix]

05: how much i like you ⎯⎯ prev | masterlist

you are a promising new member of the third division who, for some reason, is always given a hard time by your vice-captain. to vent your frustrations you decide to reply to a twitter fanbase’s anonymous confession, only to find out that your post was not so anonymous after all...?!

Soshiro couldn’t believe his eyes.

His trembling hands almost dropped the phone when he hears three sharp knocks on his bedroom door, followed by a voice he knows all too well.

“Vice Captain? Sorry to bother you..”

Your voice is muffled slightly as he scrambles to his door, heart thundering against his ribcage, the realization finally dawning upon him. You’re actually here to see him.

You. The person he spent months pining, daydreaming— it’s not fair, you invade all his dreams, you won’t even let him sleep in peace.

“Vice Captain, are you there? Huh, I guess he’s asleep..”

Soshiro immediately slams his bedroom door open, revealing you, standing in front of his door with a shocked expression. “Uh— ’m still awake. Hi, Y/N.”

For a moment, the two of you stood in silence, blushing scarlet.

“So...” you start, glancing up to sneak a peek at him. “you weren’t kidding, huh? You really l-like me?”

Soshiro raises his head and shifts his weight on one leg. You make him feel so self-conscious. He wonders if he looks okay with just a shirt and his uniform pants on. His hair is already messy— why did you have to come at such an hour?

“If you want to hear me make a fool of myself, come inside. I’ll be glad to tell you just how much I like you.”

You blink furiously, cheeks warm at the invitation.

The answer is obvious: you step inside his room, greeted by the warm air of his heater. Stacks upon stacks upon stacks of books litter his desk, papers folded neatly. His uniform jacket is splayed over his chair.

Soshiro closes the door with a click and you’re suddenly aware of the fact that it’s just the two of you together in one small room.

“I’ve been... quite childish, I admit.” Soshiro is oblivious to your flustered state, “I apologize. I shouldn’t have been such an intolerable pain in the ass. Looking back, I guess it wasn’t the best way to get your attention in the way I intended...”

His apology seems so clumsy and yet so well thought out, like he’s practiced it several times. You can’t believe that the great Hoshina Soshiro is actually fidgeting nervously in front of you.

“I’ve already forgiven you.” Smiling, you bravely reach for his hand, giving them a gentle squeeze.

Soshiro’s eyes shot up to meet yours, gleaming in surprise.

“I would be lying if I said I didn’t also have a tiny crush on you, because I do.” You ramble on, ”Okay, it’s actually a pretty huge crush. I have a huge crush on you.”

Soshiro couldn’t believe his ears. His hands tremble once more, squeezing yours with equal ferocity, rubbing circles on the base of your thumb. “You do?”

You giggle and nod. “Mhm.”

He pulls you into a hug, engulfing you in the scent of his cologne. He’s breathless when he buries his blushing face in your hair. “You do.”

Gently, his hands rest on your waist as he looks down at your smiling face.

You inch yourself higher, inviting him for a kiss.

And he kisses you on the lips, deeply, backing you to his bed to push you down. His hands are tangled up in your locks, bringing you closer to him. He tastes sweet, his tongue exploring every crevice of your mouth.

Your own hands make their way to his hair, tugging on them playfully. He groans, pulling away to give you a wolfish grin. Smiling, you peck his cheek. “So.. how much do you really like me? Because Narumi Gen told me you’re absolutely lovesick.”

Soshiro raised an eyebrow before biting your neck playfully, eliciting a surprised yelp from you. “Don’t say another guy’s name in my presence. As for how much I like you...” his hands wander further down, eyes twinkling up to you mischievously, “how about I show you?”

note: thank you for reading my first smau series! it’s been a good run, see you in the next one 🫡

taglist: @o-sachi, @iamjellyfish, @vashyuu, @yuudofu, @moon-cakiie, @17020 @nyxypoo @kichiyosh1 @lunavixia @ryescapades @er1kaaaaa @swivi @lumiambrose @equkki @kaoiyeva @tsubaki3192 @riceballsandanime @hibiscy @theauthorunicorn @4acoffee @sunarins @lxkeeeee @kimsangie @queencybow

←　wrong account　╱　hoshina soshiro

[ofmdrecaps]

01/05-08/2025 Daily OFMD Recap

TLDR; OFMD Recaps on Mastodon; David Jenkins; Rhys Darby; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte; Wee John Wednesdays/Kristian Nairn; Rachel House; Dominic Burgess; Kristen Johnston; Hugo Pierre Martin; Aotearoa Treaty Principles Bill Submissions; Articles; AdoptOurCrew: Call To Action; LettersToSeaForSeason3; Fan Spotlight: Jax/North FL OFMD Cosplay/ Fandom Meet Up; Love Notes/Resources;

== OFMD Recaps on Mastodon! ==

Some awesome news! The absolute sweetest person alive, Lowrah (https://gaypirates.club/@lowrah) has been kind (and brave) enough to join my team and create an OFMD Recaps for Mastodon! She has offered to help crosspost the recaps over to Mastodon (blorbo.social) and manage that which I appreciate so much because I am completely inept at that site! She's also the one helping me with all the alt text (that I am behind at updating tumblr with sorry!) so please send her some massive love if you see her around because she is helping me out so much right now! One thing to note -- Since she's on the other side of the world for me, the recaps cross-posted there will be a bit delayed, so please bare with us :) Thank you so much Laura for all your help! You can check it out here!

Source: OFMD Recaps Mastodon

== Cast & Crew Sightings ==

= David Jenkins =

David's giving us some interesting updates on the eve of the first cancellation of S2.

Source: David Jenkins bsky

= Rhys Darby =

Rhys was in Auckland recording the first Cryptid Factor show of 2025! For all of you Cryptid Factor fans out there, he's also finally gotten to come in contact with the Sir Ed YETI Expedition backpack!

Source: The Cryptid Factor's IG

= Taika Waititi =

The Golden Globes celebrations were this past weekend and Taika was everywhere!

Source: Loop Mag

Source: Instagram

Source: VasJMorgan's Instagram

= Samba Schutte =

"14 years in LA today✨ Arrived on Ethiopian Christmas with one suitcase and 5 guiding steps I had come up with in my hut while staying in a remote Kenyan village, for my future self who would eventually make it to Hollywood. Hope you’re proud Past Samba🫶"

Source: Samba's Instagram

= Kristian Nairn and Nathan Foad =

Some great news! Wee John Wednesday is back on Wednesday the 15th! This news also has some clown potential, so please clown responsibly everyone!

Source: Adopt Our Crew Bsky

Kristian is also going to be attending MegaConLive in Dublin on January 18-19, 2025! Get your tickets at megaconlive.com!

Source: MegaConlive Instagram

= Rachel House =

Rachel House was out with friends looking badass!

Source: Maria Lewis IG

= Dominic Burgess =

Dominic is back from the UK and posted some great "Beef" pics from Skeleton Crew. He fits the Star Wars Vibe so well!

Source: Dominic's bsky

Dominic and several of our other cast members live in California so a lot of folks are being affected by the fires. I'll try to post what I can about safety/news but for now, looks like Dominic and family are prepared.

Source: Dominic's Bsky

= Kristen Johnston =

Our "The Widow Evelyn" is now on Bluesky too! Special thanks to @jilliansauers for catching her!

Source: Kristen Johnston's bsky

= Hugo Pierre Martin =

Our friend and crewmate Hugo Pierre Martin is on Bluesky now! HPM's Bluesky

Source: HPM's Bluesky

= Aotearoa Treaty Principles Bill Submissions =

Now, I generally try to keep "politics" out of the recaps because this is meant to be a positive space for the fans-- but I do know that A LOT of our cast and crew are affected by this bill personally so I do want to throw this in there. It looks like you don't actually have to be a resident of Aotearoa to submit your feelings on the bill. Here is helpful linktree with things you can say and how to submit that I tracked down via a post Rachel House reposted.

Source: NZGreenParty

== Articles ==

Thank you @adoptourcrew! You are article maniacs! So many in so little time! Thank you for always sharing!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Bsky

== Call To Action From AOC ==

January 9, 2024 marks the first cancellation of S2 of our beloved Show. Our fan-crew, @adoptourcrew has asked that you help support our show by: 1. Taking Action 2. Sharing your love 3. Showing your pride. In short-- sign a petition, share something about the show, tell the world how it affected you! If you can get the #OurFlagMeansDeath, #SaveOFMD and #AdoptOurCrew in there, that's great too! Show all the new and seasoned fans how much you love the show!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Bsky

== Letters To Sea For Season 3 ==

The Letters to Sea for Season 3 campaign that was being spearheaded by the darling Molly, aka aproperpirate, is finally coming to fruition! Tomorrow is the day the letters should be arriving! Molly had a special message to share re the letting writing campaign!

Source: AProperPirate's Bluesky

== Fan Spotlight ==

= Jax/North FL OFMD Cosplay/ Fandom Meet Up =

Florida crew! One of the Truly Docked members @ladymekaella is hosting a little get together in Jacksonville on Jan 19! Wanna join in? Follow them on facebook! Deets below!

1/19/2025 11am - 2pm, Atlantic Beach, FL 32233

Source: Truly Docked Instagram

== Love Notes / Resources ==

Hey Lovelies, I know 01/09/25 is going to be a very mixed feeling kind of day for everyone. It's the anniversary of the first time S2 was cancelled. It's going to bring up a lot of sad feelings, and you should absolutely sit with those feelings and embrace them. It was a rough time for all of us. There's no shame in feeling that grief again. I know I didn't show it much, but I cried so many times. Seriously, like SO MANY TIMES. My parents asked me if someone whacked me in the face with a shovel (which, thanks folks, I feel so pretty) but it was true-- I was devastated. It was a slow burn for me too because I wanted so very much to keep up hope. Seeing you all really push for the show helped keep me going-- and helped me learn more about how to cope with that kind of grief (and it was grief for so many of us because the show meant so very much-- and changed some of us at our core). No matter how tomorrow makes you feel though, I do want to remind you what came of it. This beautiful community rallied together and did some absolutely AMAZING things this past year (I wish I hadn't been sick this past two weeks cause I wanted to get you some stats). From billboards, to faxing, and calling in to Max, and Netflix, and Amazon, and Apple TV, to raising a SHIT TON of money for SO MANY charities-- to making beautiful works of art and fiction-- to making our cast and crew (not just the actors) feel loved and impactful-- this cancellation brought SO MANY OF US TOGETHER. People stepped out of their comfort zones-- talked to people they didn't know, reached out to streaming platforms and learned to use their voices in ways they'd never done before. We all built our own little communities within the fandom, bit by bit-- and those little communities have spread so much love, and kindness, and made life worth living for so many of us. It's been almost a year for my recaps too-- those officially started on Jan 13th, once again, because of the cancellation, and because of the camaraderie of the crew and all the support we all gave each other. Jan 9 is probably a tough day for most of us, but it's also the catalyst for so many wonderful things, and I'm so very grateful for it in a way. I've gotten to know so many of you, gotten to experience your joy, and participate in your struggles, and vice versa. I've met so many people from all over the world I'd never have once dreamt I could meet-- and I know SO MANY of you have too. This fandom is one of a kind-- and this special show and it's cancellation brought us together. I am still in full clown mode at all times, and I believe S3 is an inevitability, it's just a matter of when-- but no matter when it happens, I'm grateful we got this past year together, and all that came with it. So thank you lovelies. Thank you for being a huge part of my life, and turning it in a much better direction I could ever have thought possible given where I was. Lean on each other tomorrow, okay? We got through this past year together, and we'll get through whatever happens going forward, as a crew. Take care of yourself lovelies, drink some water, and get some sleep. Love you <3

= Resources =

Outside of the fandom in my day job, I work for a company that works with 211's and non profits, and so resources are really important to me. I have a lot I'm aware of, but if anyone has more they'd like to share around, please let me know! I'm happy to spread the word to help people get support they need right now!

For those of you in California or who know some folks who are-- please be sure to download the Watch Duty App, it keeps track and notifies you of nearby fires in real time.

In addition here's some additional info on go bags if you are in the evacuation areas:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Brown Issues (@brownissues)

Source: Brown Issues Instagram

Also looks like Airbnb will be pairing up with LA 211 to offer shelter for those evacuated from the Palisades fire. You can visit www.211la.org for more information.

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Drew Droege (@drew_droege)

Source: Drew Doege's Instagram

As I hear more resources I'll try to share more in the recaps/on socials. I hope you all are staying safe out there!

[shireduchess]

listen...listen... idk man i didn't expect downfall to hit me as hard as it did. but i'm at the end of ep101 and i have cried more maybe than during any other part of this story...and what a story within a story downfall is

it's about faith, the faith the mortals have in the gods and that the gods have in mortals, the faith in their creations, in and for their love of each other. and there is something so moving and intoxicating and emotional about that depiction, of gods deciding to become mortals to achieve an end goal, but of learning how much mortals love and feel and suffer

just the love between them all, everyone depicted. the wildmother and the lawbearer... the emissary.... trist and ayden, the everlight and the dawnfather... fucking just....everyone

idk man this sort of tragic story really just gets me so so so fucking bad, it hits me in such a unique way

[party-gilmore]

maybe it’s the AuDHD but every time i see that “if i was orpheus i would simply not turn around - yes you would if you really loved her as deeply as he did then you would” post i can help but feel… like…

is there not love in slogging through the doubt because I Understand the Rule? knowing that if I were to indulge in the selfish need to Be Sure i would be sentencing her again? that if Hades has lied or broken his contract i would return again and hold him to it, now with even more leverage given that he’d broken an oath? that if she had fallen and i reached the top, again would i go back however many times it fucking took?

because I know that if I Don’t Look then losing her is possible, but if I Turn Around then losing her is certain? so this time, on my way back up, the enemy to fight isn’t the underworld or death or hades, it’s myself and my doubt and my fear and i am not stronger than it but my love for her is.

and just because the way i feel it is rooted more in logic and reasoning that emotion and adrenaline doesn’t mean it’s any less passionate or strong.

anyways i know it’s a personal take it just feels like it’s… kind of giving us more analytical type lovers the stink eye a bit. “if you really loved her as much-“ then i would’ve followed the one fucking rule in spite of my fear of MAYBE losing her because DEFINITELY losing her is such???? a MUCH bigger fear???? just logically speaking???

but let’s be real you don’t really… SEE a lot of logical love in media. Not romance specific media at least. It’s all rash decisions caught up in the passion making mistakes hurting each other before figuring it all out. And it’s always portrayed as the IDEAL. Like true love is FIRE! True love is EMOTION! True love is you just can’t think straight around each other!!!!

so that’s probably my REAL frustration actually not with the post itself but just how it feels like it drives home this… “if love isn’t making you a little desperate, it’s not really love” narrative.

And I just… MY love is strong and deep and passionate TOO damnit!!!

[3verythingiknowaboutlove]

first fall of snow

how spencer guesses you're pregnant before you actually tell him

fluff word count: 1390 warnings & tags & stuff: pregnant reader, slight issues with mother mentioned?, non-graphic vomiting, mentions/allusions to winter holidays being celebrated, kinda spencer's pov but still 2nd pov, reader is scared spencer will leave her lol, anxious!reader in general, mentions of death?, probably medical inaccuracies ive never been pregnant author's note: hiiii i'm forcing myself to post this because if i don't then i'll never post and i'm being BRAVE. i hope it can be a little comforting maybe. i've realllyyyy been struggling with my take on spencer's characterization lately soo this was kinda like a bootcamp/exercise situation into his mind and less an expression of my writing skills, iykwim. let me know your thoughts if u have any! i love you & have a splendid day!!

Spencer is walking—speed walking—toward his car, away from the case he just finished, away from serial killers and guns and geographical profiling and death.

He places his feet carefully on the snow-covered sidewalk with each step, the cold air biting at his face. He barely notices it, absorbed in the path ahead, as the snow provides a satisfying crunch underfoot—a nice background to his perpetually racing mind.

He doesn’t like the winter. It’s always too harsh outdoors, and too stuffy indoors, and he’s trapped in a suffocating haze no matter where he goes. 

His phone starts to vibrate gently in his pocket, interrupting his racing thoughts for a split second. His pace falters as he pulls it free, a quick smile tugging at the corner of his lips when he sees it’s your name on the screen.

“Hi. How are you?” he asks after picking up, watching his breath come out in puffs of vapor in the cold air.

Winters, however, have gotten progressively better each year he spends with you.

“...I’m okay,” you say, though the crack in your voice reveals the all-consuming ache in your bones and mind.

“No. You’re overwhelmed,” he guesses in his matter-of-fact way, voice gentle. You huff out a soft laugh at his ability to read you, never getting old.

“Yeah, I guess. A little. The holiday season, you know. Are you on your way home?” you ask, voice softer now. You’re sitting on the couch of yours and Spencer’s cozy apartment, wrestling with a blanket to cover your lap, and bouncing your leg relentlessly.

“I’m walking to the car now. Hey, have you done the crossword today?” Spencer asks, words a familiar, tender remedy for your nerves. You told him a long time ago that hearing his voice makes you feel better, and there are times, like these, where he just knows it’s what you need. You rest our head on the arm of the couch, curling up.

“No, I didn’t have the time. Why?”

“There was an interesting question about causes of death in Shakespeare plays, but they completely messed up the part of speech. It read, ‘Popular ways to die by the hands of England’s national poet’. I thought it was ‘poisons’ at first, but it was actually ‘stabbed’, even though the correct answer grammatically should’ve been ‘stabs’ or ‘stabbings’,” he says, his car now in sight through the steady sprinkle of snow coming down. “Do you think I should send an email to let them know? I guess stabbing does make more sense, though, versus poison, because throughout his works, thirty characters out of his 74 that died were stabbed compared to only four that were poisoned. Three were stabbed and poisoned. Did you know that two were actually baked into pies, which is a-”

“Oh my god, the pie,” you groan, cutting him off mid-sentence, sitting up hastily, the blanket falling to the floor.

“Pie?”

“Yeah. My mom coerced me into making it to bring tomorrow.” You pad over to the kitchen and crouch down to peek through the hazy glass of the oven, inspecting it. “Oh,” you murmur. “It’s…not pretty.”

He sandwiches the phone in between his ear and shoulder, gently opening the door to his car to sit down as he listens to you. He turns the heat on, exhaling in an exhausted relief, hovering his hand over where the air comes out. 

“Can you tell me what it looks like? Maybe I can help,” he suggests, leaning back against the headrest and letting his eyes close for a second. You put the phone on speaker, setting it on the counter as you bend down to take it out. “Don’t burn yourself,” he adds, hearing what you’re doing.

“I’m not going to burn my-” you cut yourself off with a huff. “Whatever. It’s just really messy. There’s like… liquid overflowing where the lattice should be.”

He hums. “How long has it been cooking for?”

“45 minutes. My mom sent me this one ancient recipe that I had to use written on parchment paper from like 70 years ago, and it does not have a bake time listed, so I’m just eyeballing it.”

“Okay. You could either put it back in the oven in hopes that more of the liquid will evaporate, or you can leave it out to cool down and hopefully thicken,” he says.

“What do you think I should do?”

“I think you sound exhausted and need your sleep.” 

You sigh, staring at your mess of a pie, hopes that you’ll appease your mother this year slipping further and further away, soon to be completely buried by the snow.

“Hey. I’m sure it’ll taste really good. Besides, people still liked Shakespeare, and he wrote about much worse pies than you could ever make.” 

A smile pulls at your lips.

“Yeah. Okay. I’ll just leave it out to cool and head to bed. Will you stay on the phone a little longer?” you ask, padding over to your shared bedroom.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t start driving as you talk, not when nearly 2000 people die per year due to driving on icy roads, and two thirds of them were people who were reported to not be paying close enough attention.

And especially not when 54 hours ago on your last phone call, he noticed a drastic shift in your behavior, and was quickly able to tell that you were pregnant. 

He had too much waiting for him at home to be spinning out on black ice because he was talking to you and not watching the road.

He chooses instead to look outside at the falling snow, blanketing the city, his city, the very first for D.C. to have this winter out of the septillion snowflakes planet earth receives each year.

…

Spencer gets home a little later that night, holding another pint of cherries in his hands. Not for the pie—which he turns to see resting on the stove and winces slightly at—but for you. 

Cherries, with their 342 mg of potassium per cup, help replenish lost electrolytes and can soothe nausea.

He’s expecting it to start any day now.

He quietly steps into the bedroom, setting his bag by the door to be dealt with tomorrow. The soft glow of the lamp that was left on, presumably for him by your endlessly considerate heart, provides just enough light so he can get changed. He then finally clambers into bed next to you, one hand reaching out to lace in your hair, moving his fingers to gently scratch by the nape of your neck. He lifts the other to rest, like you're made of a delicate china, on your lower stomach, sighing in pure relief the second it makes contact.

You turn sleepily, humming when you’re met with the sight of him. “Spence,” you murmur, contented.

“Hi. I really didn’t mean to wake you up. I’m sorry,” he says, so quietly.

“I'm glad you did. I like it when you wake me.” You tuck yourself closer to him. “I love you.” His hand comes to trace gentle patterns all over your back and arm, and he gives you a little kiss, adoringly.

“Go back to sleep. I love you.”

You let your eyes shut once again, this time much easier now that he’s with you. You inhale his scent, which you swear could repair anything broken or lost in this world. You exhale, wondering if he’d still hold you the same way after learning that you’re carrying his child. 

It’s a scary thought, but you’re comforted by his warm touch, pushing you farther out into the deep sea of sleep.

Once your breaths get steady and your mouth parts slightly, he adds, in a whisper, “Both.”

…

The next morning, when you’re hunched over the toilet bowl, Spencer is there with you, rubbing your back and wiping your teary eyes. You look up to him after brushing your teeth, and no words are exchanged. He tugs you into his arms, silently quelling any of the countless anxieties swarming your mind, at least in this moment.

His hand comes up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. He lets it rest there, cupping your jaw.

“Let’s go shopping after breakfast today, okay? You need prenatal vitamins.” He presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“And a new pie.”

[adickaboutspoons]

Mostly I was responding to the points raised in @scarrletmoon's response, but you raise some excellent points to which I'd like to respond. Feel free to ignore if you're tired of my bullshit. I completely understand the impulse. 1st, you're absolutely right; I was coming across as gate-keepery by saying that I find Stede's eccentricities charming as though that ought be the default experience. For that I apologize. I ought to have taken more care. When I said "And that's valid, but I would say that those are the parts that the crew and Ed grow to love once they embrace those parts of him instead of cringing at them" what I meant to convey is that the experience of 2nd-hand embarrassment when Stede does something that recalls to the viewer times when they have felt ashamed/were made to feel shame because of something they did is absolutely understandable, but we can take heart in Stede being accepted & loved for those parts of him, & find hope that so too may we be embraced for our own quirks & foibles. My intention was to encourage others to be more gentle with & accepting of their own perceived failings, but I can see now that I failed to adequately express that, & for that I am sorry. I do take issue with the suggestion that I am strawmanning, though; I would argue that how one views Stede's motivation & framing absolutely informs the extent to which/moments in which one finds his behavior cringe-worthy. In your original post, you contend Stede is "pretending to be this macho pirate captain who totally knows what he's doing" & your response above adds he's a bad manager & a jerk because he's praising himself & chiding his employees, whom you interpret as him treating as stand-ins for his own children. If that's how you're framing the scenario, then, sure - I can see how his behavior comes across as cringe to you. But that's not at all how I perceived it. I will grant he is pretending more expertise than he actually possesses, but he IS a pirate captain, & as to the attribution of "macho" I absolutely disagree, specifically because he is textually interested in a form of piracy that is not that. Because that is my understanding of the scene, in the debrief scene I see a person excited at the success of what, if Black Pete is to be believed, is their very 1st raid, & doesn't understand why everyone else wasn't also chuffed. He then listens to Wee John' criticism & encourages him to clarify WHY he feels the way he does. When Wee John identifies the lack of a flag as a contributing factor to his disgruntlement, Stede provides materials so they can rectify the deficit. This isn't Stede forcing arts & crafts on these grown-ass men (& Jim) - it's Stede hearing a problem & supplying the means to a solution. Similarly, he hears out Buttons about the crew's dissatisfaction, & tries to rectify it by finding a more appealing target for a raid, even though he obviously feels unequal to the task himself. To me, that's the complete opposite of a bad manager (to me he's a bad manager when he's being dismissive of the crew's input, like the fuckery brainstorming, & even then he climbs down from his high horse & apologizes. Which? GREAT manager!). Where you see Stede infantilizing his crew, I see them taking part in activities that, while generally relegated to childhood, aren't implicitly childish, & of their own volition, & Stede sowing the seeds that will eventually blossom into a found family (not imposing an established family structure). For clarity, I'm not saying my interpretation is objectively right, nor that yours is wrong. I'm just saying framing is going to influence perception of whether Stede's behavior is Cringe, & that's kind of what I was getting at with my myriad examples of Stede behaving "authentically" or "inauthentically" & when that is a viable predictor of a general fandom perception of when Stede is being Cringe. Because I really don't think it is. This is going to continue in the notes because tumlr thinks they can cut my mic.

listen I love stede a lot - I think he's the bravest character in the show. he changes everyone he meets for the better. he embodies what I think of as the thesis of the show. if he wasn't the way that he is, the show would not be very good, imo.

but in ep one he gives his pirate crew notes on the raid they just did as though they were a community theater troupe and his notes were 1) complimenting his own opening speech as "very inspiring" and 2) complaining that that the crew wasn't sufficiently enthusiastic about robbing two poor fisherman of a single plant.

during the raid his narration went "some men are born to be pirate captains, others learn on the job. me? well I'm a pretty solid mix of both" as though he has any idea what he's doing.

and AFTER the raid Olu has to gently point out to him that piracy isn't a game to the rest of the crew.

There's a reason that Rhys Darby was the only person capable of playing Stede without making him seem like a total dick. And I think that's bc Rhys was able to convey the idea that Stede's behavior in the first few eps is coming out of this deep sense of insecurity - he's doing some Stede-y things (flag making! paying the crew! bedtime stories!) that are great but he's also pretending to be this macho pirate captain who totally knows what he's doing. And it's the pretending that makes people cringe with second hand embarrassment. While also, often, seeing themselves in it and feeling a great deal of sympathy for Stede about it.

The reason Stede is like this is because HE thinks there's something deeply wrong with him, a belief that has been solidified by everyone around him his entire life, and therefore he needs to do everything he can to hide that deeply wrong thing about him. When he unpacks that and embraces the things about himself he originally thought were embarrassing (being weak, pathetic, soft, etc), he can stop pretending. And that's when other characters grow to love him! And so people will sometimes call him cringe because they aspire to be cringe like him, to embrace the parts of themselves that they were punished for and live more authentically.

because he changes! that's the point! he moves from cringe (pretending to be someone he's not) to cringe (being true to himself, always a deeply vulnerable thing to be) and it takes a lot of hard work. that's what makes me LIKE him as a character. that's what I think makes him the bravest character on the show. because he doesn't start out perfect. he's a puppet who grows into a real boy and that means that for a period of time he was a puppet, and that's okay.

[hotshotsxyz]

since forever

(buddie) (1.3k words) at no point in time while writing this did i have a single plan for where it was going. it's soft, it's sweet, it has minor spoilers for the blair witch project (1999)

Bizarrely, the first thing that occurs to Eddie post-realization is that he lied to a priest. The thought startles a laugh out of him. Whoops.

He feels good. Like—shockingly good. Light and optimistic and free, everything he’s been trying to let in since Father Brian gave him the go ahead to stop punishing himself, which—

It isn’t actually that he needed permission, especially not from a priest. Or maybe he did.

All he really knows is that this joy he’s letting in? It doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t hurt him, or Chris or Buck or anyone else he loves. So when Eddie finally realizes why he’s been putting Buck in his own category for years, he doesn’t even try to put it back in the box.

He loves Buck. He wants Buck. And he’s allowed to want. It’s a good thing, even. And speaking of Buck—

His best friend/the love of his freaking life is staring at him like he’s grown two heads. Which, fair. He’s not entirely sure where they are in the movie, but as far as he recalls there isn’t much in the way of comedy in The Blair Witch Project.

It’s just—Buck was sitting on the literal edge of his seat, pillow clutched protectively to his chest, staring at the TV with eyes wider than dinner plates. Who in their right mind could see something like that and come to any conclusion other than love?

Buck pauses the movie.

“Do not tell me you think this,” he says, gesturing at the screen where, oof, yeah, a young woman is sobbing in terror, “isn’t scary.”

“No, no,” Eddie replies, “very scary.”

Buck snorts. “You’re such an asshole,” he says, but it’s wrapped in one of those warm grins that give him away every time.

Eddie hums agreeably.

“Alright, fine,” Buck says. He scoots closer until he’s flush against Eddie’s side. It’s really not that much of a scoot. “If you’re gonna go all brave strong man on me, I get to use you as a shield.”

“I guess I can live with that,” Eddie sighs. He wraps an arm around Buck’s shoulders, just because he wants to.

He can feel Buck’s exhale as he settles against his shoulder, and for all the times they’ve touched before, this feels different. Maybe it isn’t, though. Maybe Eddie’s just different.

As the tension in the movie ramps, Buck burrows further and further into Eddie. He kicks his feet up onto the couch and twists so that Eddie’s forearm falls from his shoulder and drapes across his chest instead. It’s maybe the most comfortable Eddie’s ever been.

On screen, the two remaining characters creep into a seemingly abandoned house. On the couch, Buck squeaks and grabs Eddie’s hand. This, he decides, is his new favorite movie.   

“We’re never going hiking again,” Buck declares as the credits roll.

“Sure,” Eddie says, shrugging with the shoulder that isn’t currently occupied by Buck’s head. “Until you see a cool trail on Instagram.”

“I’m serious!” Buck says. He tilts his head back until he can kind of make eye contact with Eddie. “I am not getting Blair Witched.”

Eddie hums, pretending to think about it. “How about we just… never go hiking in Maryland?” he proposes.

Buck grins up at him, and oh, Eddie has never wanted to kiss someone as much as he does in this exact moment.

“Deal,” Buck says. He sits back up and rests his head back against Eddie’s shoulder.

There’s a long stretch of quiet where Buck plays with his fingers and Eddie revels in the feeling of it. He thinks—he’s almost certain—that he could ask Buck for anything right now and he’d say yes.

Kiss me.

Move in with me.

Marry me.

His lips tick into a small smile at the thought, but he takes it no further.

“Hey, Eds?” Buck asks quietly.

The TV screen has shut itself off, leaving the room in semi-darkness, cut only by the light of the streetlamps outside.

“Yeah?”

“Something’s different,” he says. It’s not a question.

“It is,” Eddie acknowledges.

“Good different?”

Eddie considers for a moment. Something about the hour, the darkness, Buck’s warmth against his side, makes him feel brave. He presses the smallest, softest of kisses into Buck’s hair.

“Good different,” Eddie confirms.

“Oh,” Buck breathes.

“Good ‘oh’?” Eddie asks teasingly.

Buck flicks one of Eddie’s fingers in recompense. “If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you were fishing for something,” he says.

“If I am?”

Buck takes a shaky breath. “Then I’m gonna need you to spell it out for me, Eds.”

He sits up and turns to face Eddie directly, and as much as Eddie misses the warmth of his body, he wants to look Buck in the eye for this part.

“I love you,” Eddie says.

Buck’s lips part in an awed sort of surprise.

“I’m in love with you,” he continues. “I have been, for years, I think. I just… wasn’t ready to let myself look at it.”

“Eddie,” Buck says, already a little wrecked.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Eddie reassures. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No, I—” Buck says quickly, stumbling over his words. “I didn’t—I’ve never even—” He looks down and his expression shifts, like he didn’t realize he was still holding on to Eddie’s hand. “You love me?” Buck asks, looking back up, eyes shining in the yellow glow of the streetlamps.

“Yeah,” Eddie says softly. “More than I think I knew was possible.”

Buck exhales in a punched-out kind of way. He raises a hand to Eddie’s face and ghosts two fingers along his cheekbone and down the line of his jaw. “I didn’t—I didn’t know I could,” he breathes.

“You can, Buck,” Eddie says. “Whatever you want, it’s—”

Buck surges forward and cuts him off with a kiss, and if there was a single doubt left in Eddie’s mind, this would’ve extinguished it. It’s a little messy, a little awkward, and the angle’s not quite right, but—

It’s Buck, so it’s perfect.

He pulls back, gasping for air. “I—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”

Eddie catches one of his hands and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on Buck’s wrist. “Don’t be,” Eddie says softly. “It’s okay. If you need time—”

“No!” Buck says quickly. “Or—maybe? I just—” He blows out a sharp breath.

“Hey,” Eddie says, ducking his head until Buck meets his eye again. “I told you once that you didn’t need to be anything for anybody. That includes me, okay?”

“Jesus, Eddie,” Buck says.

“I’m just saying, you don’t have to make any decisions tonight. You don’t even have to want,” Eddie says, gesturing between them in lieu of finishing his sentence.

Buck sags a little. “Of course I want,” he whispers.

Warmth floods Eddie’s chest and overflows into his stomach. “Yeah?” he asks.

A slow smile spreads across Buck’s face. “Yeah,” he says. “I really do.”

Eddie has known happiness before, felt it in small bursts and long stretches. But what he’s feeling now—it’s blindingly bright, brilliant and beautiful and free of fear in a way he’s not sure he’s ever experienced.

“Can I kiss you again?” Buck asks breathily.

Eddie nods, not quite sure he can trust his tongue anymore.

This time, Buck leans forward deliberately. He cups Eddie’s face in his hands and tucks his nose against Eddie’s before carefully brushing their lips together. It’s featherlight and maddening in the best possible way.

He presses his lips against Eddie’s again, then teases them open with his tongue and—

God, if this is how it was always supposed to feel, Eddie’s pretty sure there are a few more revelations coming his way in the near future. For now, though, he just leans in.

“Oh!” Buck exclaims, popping back suddenly. “I love you, too,” he says. There’s something like wonder coloring his tone and writing itself across his face. “I really—Eddie, I think I’ve loved you forever.”

It’s not possible, not really. As difficult as it is to remember what it was like before his life became intertwined with Buck’s, that before still exists. Eddie knows that. But in his heart—he’s pretty sure his atoms started loving Buck’s at the beginning of the universe.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, drawing Buck back in. “Me too.”

[swarvey]

how they would propose | sdv bachelors x g/n!reader | part two

-> summary: in game, the farmer is always the one to present the mermaid's pendant to their lover — what if it was the other way around?

pt. 1

a/n: here are the rest of the boys! i'll do the bachelorettes next, i might do all of them in one post. sorry for the slow updates y'all <3

harvey

wants it to be a completely special, private moment between the two of you

he knows how prone he is to getting overly anxious about moments like this, so he prepares months beforehand

if there is one thing in life he refuses to mess up, it's his proposal to you

and what's more flawless than tying everything back to the start?

harvey smiles as he watches your eyes grow big, following the sun as it steadily heads for the horizon. the hot air balloon rises into the sky slowly, to his relief — a little extra time to prepare never hurts.

a couple seasons ago, on a rainy, fall day, harvey had told you he had some errands to run before heading down to the beach. he'd been slightly shocked to actually see the old mariner standing there in the rain, despite the speculations that had always circled around town. despite the fact he was apparently a ghost, he had actually been patient with harvey, answering all of his questions with wisdom and guidance.

after nearly two hours of standing under his umbrella, harvey had finally made up his mind, handing a small bag of coins to the old mariner in exchange for the pendant.

"took ya long enough," the older man huffed as he handed the necklace over.

now, harvey waits until the air balloon is higher up in the sky before gently reaching for your hand. you look at him, a small smile on your lips.

"are you enjoying this as much as the first time i brought you up here?" he asks sweetly.

"maybe a little more," you admit, looking over the side again. "i was a bit nervous coming up here in the first place, you know, and seeing you all stiff and anxious didn't help."

"you can hardly blame me!" he laughs. "my fear of heights is deathly, i only did it because you were there with me."

"yeah? and how about now?"

"well, nothing's changed, has it?" he squeezes your hand, looking down at your intertwined fingers. "you're still here."

"i am."

when his eyes meet yours again, he feels warmth bloom across his chest — the setting sunlight seems to make you glow, and he suddenly feels unstoppable.

you squint at him, trying to read his face. "you know," you start softly, "you have the same look on your face as you did back then."

"i do?"

"yeah, you do." you pause, watching as his other hand reaches for his pocket. "harvey, are you—"

"y/n," he interrupts, "that day, when the two of us were up here for the first time, i felt something i never did before — i felt brave, strong. i never thought i was capable of feeling that way, but you proved me wrong, as you always seem to do, and i can only hope i make you feel at least somewhat the same way." he inhales deeply, feeling his face burn red as he takes out his hand from this pocket and opens his fist, the mermaid's pendant gleaming in the light.

"harvey," you breathe, rendered speechless as your eyes widen even more than before.

"you mean the world to me and more, honey," he says quietly, and you can hear the tears he's holding back. "i promise i will do everything in my power to make you as happy as you've made me, so please . . .

"will you marry me?"

after a beat, you let go of his hand, and harvey's heart drops.

then, you grab the necklace and pull it over your head, watching as it shines against your neck.

"yes, harvey," you answer, smiling widely up at him. "the answer has always been a yes."

tears finally fall from his face as he gently kisses you, resting his forehead against yours before pulling you to his chest.

"thank you," he whispers. "i promise, i won't let you down."

you laugh. "this isn't a business contact, you know."

"i know, i know, it's just . . ." he grabs your hand again, pressing a firm kiss on the back of it. "you've already done so much for me, dear," he says, the sun finally dipping beneath the mountains.

"it's time for me to return the favor."

sam

bought it like a week ago since it happened to be raining and he was on the beach

i mean, you'll say yes, right? there's no reason for you not to. so why should he be nervous? he's not nervous at all. not one bit.

at least, that's what he keeps telling himself as he keeps scheduling a bunch of dates with you, thinking there'll be a moment during one of them when he'll make his move

(the moment has yet to come, by the way)

sam slaps his face sharply as he paces around his room, continuously glancing at the clock. he honestly can't believe the pendant is still in the small pouch his mom gave him and not around your neck — her scolds after he returned home with the necklace still in his hands for the fifth time rings in his ears.

"sam, this is an important moment in both of your lives!" she had said, hands sternly placed on her hips. "you can't keep making these plans, just to avoid them at the last second because you're scared. you need to go show them how much you love them, properly!"

he shivers. his mom rarely ever yells at him, so he knows she must have been serious. how was i supposed to know proposing would be this scary?

after realizing he was due to meet you in a few minutes, sam rushedly left his home, heading towards the park where he told you to meet him. he smiles as he sees you sitting on the swing, but before he can get a word out, you're standing up and walking to him, face scrunched in worry.

"sam, is everything alright?" you ask, fidgeting with your fingers. "i've been thinking about it, and you've been worrying me a bit."

"worrying? why?" he grabs the sides of your arms gently, tilting his head. "did i . . . do something wrong?"

"i mean, no?" you shake your head slightly, sighing. "it's just, you've been asking to do so many things, which is great! this just isn't what we normally do. i'm a little worried you're not telling me something."

"wh-what?" he stutters, huffing and shrugging his shoulders. "honestly, sweetheart, i have no idea what you're talking about, really. i mean, do i seem like the type to hide something from you?"

you stare at him blankly for a moment. then, you deflate, a twinge of sadness in your eyes.

"are you breaking up with me?" you question quietly. "is that what this is? because i'd really rather you not drag it on like this, sam—"

"whoa, whoa, what?! break up with you? are you crazy?" he half-shouts, his own heart breaking that he made you think that. "baby, no, i would never."

"i don't know what to think!" you exclaim, a sudden emotion taking over your voice. "you've been acting so odd recently, i didn't know what to think."

he shakes his head, letting out a deep sigh. guess this is what i get for not listening to mom.

"here, why don't i just show you?"

"what?"

trying his best to keep his hands from shaking, sam reaches into his back pocket, holding up the small pouch in front of you.

"you see, i, uh, have been trying to figure out the right way to give you this," he finally admits, running his other hand through his hair nervously. "every time we went out together, i thought i would figure it out, but i guess i couldn't. i'm sorry for worrying you, y/n, i really am — i hope you can forgive me, though, or else i seriously have no idea what i'll do with this."

you open your mouth to question him once more, but before you can ask, he opens the pouch and lets the mermaid's pendant fall into the palm of his hand.

"i love you so, so much, honey, more than my words can describe," he rushes passionately, voice determined as he bends his head down and lifts the pendant up. "all i know is, being with you makes everything feel new again. like, the music we listen to, the places we go, the food we eat, everything is better when i do it with you. if i'm being honest, i'm not a hundred percent sure what comes after this, but i do know that i think we'll be okay, as long as we're together." keeping his head down, mainly to hide his flushed face, sam lifts the necklace even higher. "i guess what i'm asking is, will you marry me, y/n?"

sam feels your hand cup his chin to tip his face back up, revealing to him your watery eyes and pink cheeks.

"of course i'll marry you, sam, that's all you had to ask," you say, laughing lightly.

he stands up straight suddenly, whooping and throwing his arms in the air before picking you up and spinning you around. after putting you down, he hastily puts the pendant around your neck and kisses you, feeling your hand entangle itself in his hair as he pulls you close.

"you're such a dork," you tease after pulling away. "what were you so nervous about?"

"what were you so nervous about?" he fires back, crossing his arms and raising a brow. "did you seriously think i would break up with you?"

"like you gave me a reason to believe otherwise! when have we ever gone on dates for an entire week straight? we usually just sit in your room!"

"hey, we do more stuff than that!"

you look at each other in annoyance for a moment before bursting into laughter. unbeknownst to the two of you, abigail and sebastian had seen the whole thing as they were passing by, looking at each other in amusement as they continue toward the town.

"they sound like a married couple already," seb grumbles, and abigail laughs.

"just shows they were meant to be."

sebastian

similar to harvey, he wants his proposal to be for your eyes only, so he decides to do it while the two of you are alone at the lake near his house

determined to do the whole thing by himself, but his mom ends up seeing the jewelry in his room

got the pendant the last summer, it’s the start of spring now

(he’s spent every night since then falling asleep with it in his hands)

sebastian waits for you anxiously near the edge of the water, looking at the pendant in his hand. part of him still can’t believe this is his reality — someone like him, getting married? he scoffs, covering the jewelry with his fist and looking out towards the lake. the water shines under the moonlight, soothing his heart just a bit.

“seb!”

just like that, his sense of peace is gone, blood rushing to his face as he turns to greet you. he smiles softly; you’re wearing one of the coats he gave you since it didn’t end up fitting him properly. he always thought you’ve looked good in his clothes.

“hey,” he greets, hugging you to his side and pressing a kiss to the side of your head. “how was your day?”

“a bit busy,” you sigh, melting into his arm. “spring always jumps on me before i know it.” he hums, subconsciously pulling you closer as he plans out his next words. “how about you? everything okay?”

“hm? yeah, ‘course,” he replies, the necklace clutched tightly in his hand. “just . . . couldn’t sleep that well, is all.”

“why? are you feeling okay?” you ask worriedly, turning to face him.

“stop worrying.” he pokes your forehead, pushing you lightly. he huffs a laugh at your frown. “i had some stuff on my mind.”

“like what?”

like his mom’s advice. seb chews his lip as he quickly thinks back to what his mom had said after finding the necklace lying on his desk.

“this is a serious decision, seb,” she’d said, sitting with him in his room. “you’re sure you want this?”

“of course i am,” he’d retorted sharply. he’s always been a bit defensive over you. “why wouldn’t i?”

she’d sighed, smiling at him warmly. “that’s not what i meant. i’m over the moon about this, i am, i just want to make sure you understand what marriage means.” she paused, lightly placing a hand over his. he’d let her, just that once. “promise me you won’t treat it lightly, okay? they deserve the world, you know that.”

seb smiles slightly. though he’ll never admit it, he’s glad his mom spoke to him.

“about you, actually,” he replies. “i’ve been thinking about you a lot recently.”

“oh yeah? am i that hard to resist?” you say jokingly.

he rolls his eyes, but doesn’t disagree. instead, he calmly shows you the necklace in his hand, silently reading your reaction. your eyes widen, darting between the pendant and his face.

“i’ve never met anyone like you, y/n,” he finally says, swallowing thickly after hearing how shaky his voice has gotten. “you know it’s never been easy for me to open up to people, but it never really felt that way with you. you always seem to know what to say, no matter what i talk to you about. i mean, seriously, i don’t really get it still, but i do know it would be stupid of me to let someone like you go.”

“as if i were going anywhere,” you say, voice watery and quiet.

he gently grabs one of your hands, intertwining your fingers.

“well, now i know i’ve got you all to myself,” he replies amusedly. “i’ll take that as a yes?”

laughing, you lightly push him away. “you didn’t even ask me!”

“fine, fine— y/n, will you do me the highest honors and stay by my side for the rest of—“

“alright, stop, stop! you ass.” he laughs as you smack his arm, feigning hurt before grinning. “i could say no, you know.”

“yeah, sure you could, sweetheart.” he places the necklace around you and uses it to pull you to him once more, wrapping an arm around you to kiss you lovingly, the moon brightly shining down on the two of you, as if it approves.

“i’m sure you could.”

[azulapunchedozai]

Can we like.. normalize skipping contents that we hate or contents that don't align with our opinion? I've seen the most beautiful ship arts in almost every social media platform and there would always be like

"Love the art! Hate the ship!"

Look, I know social media peeps do their best to stay positive but is it really that important to accompany your compliment with a COMPLETELY UNNECESSARY statement? Can people normalize keeping their opinions to themselves when it's not needed? Girl that is obviously a ship post. Why do you feel the need to say you hate it after complimenting?

THANK YOU SO MUCH for the compliment but I'd rather have you not comment on my post at all if you're just gonna leave backhanded compliments. Is it really that hard to JUST say "I love the art!" and be respectful? And if you hate the ship so much then do yourself a favour by scrolling up or down to avoid the content. Trust me, avoiding negativity would be better for your mental health.

It's not just happening in ship arts. Fanarts in general. There'd be like, a fanart of a character or a redesign and there will be comments like "I prefer them with this-that though." or "This-that suits them better!" or "I don't like them with this-that!".

Or there would be contents that talks about how this character is the best character of this show/game/movie or how this character has the best game effects and there would be like, "I prefer this-that character though." or "I don't see anything about *charactername though." or "Nope, *charactername is the best."

An example of this is when I was scrolling through contents about Furina's c6 plunge attack and infusions and how they are the best and there are a bunch of comments saying "I don't see Raiden though" or "Raiden's plunge is the best"

And I was like NO ONE ASKED??? Look, no hate to Raiden Shogun because she's literally one of my favorite characters. I love her plunge attack and I have an undeniable bias when it comes to purple and pink but the video was OBVIOUSLY NOT ABOUT HER. The video was not a misinformation and simply someone's opinion/preference.

It's like going to a room full of people talking about how they like the color red and saying something like "I prefer blue though!" Gosh why would you do that? It's just so EMBARRASSING and SO ATTENTION SEEKING at it's finest. And then when people call them out, they'd pull the "opinion" card and act like s victim. If you want people to respect your opinion, why don't you do it first?

People need to learn that not everything that appears on their feed is about them and to not take everything PERSONALLY because not everything is about you and not everything revolves around you. People can have different opinions and enjoy any content that they want even if those are opposed to your preferences. Being different from you doesn't make them less valid in any way.

If it's not illegal or harmful just keep your mouth shut, is it really that hard?

Instead of wasting your time commenting on a content that you don't like (and by doing so, the said content would just appear on your feed more frequently), why not search for contents you enjoy to satisfy yourself, yah?

Why? Because that's the normal thing to do. People have become so brave on whatever they say on the internet because they know they'd never suffer real life consequences.

[dolliels]

YOUR SHOUJO BOYFRIEND!

synopsis: you and the third years in a shoujo manga setting. how will the story proceed?

AUTHORS NOTE: THIS IS A REUPLOAD!!! i posted this fic on my old account which i deleted. so uh yeah. also you are technically y/n but a different y/n in every story ok bye

trey clover [captain of the baseball team!]

drum roll please… presenting trey clover!!! the beloved captain of your high school’s baseball team!!! have you seen him? he’s so kind, and thoughtful… he’s really handsome and tall… lord… have you seen him in his baseball uniform?? his broad shoulders under the gentle light… all the girls are giggling about it!

you’ve also often found yourself following the smell of delicious baked goods… only to find the infamous trey clover handing pastries out to his entire team!! he can cook too?! you drool at the thought of tasting his already amazing-smelling food.

unfortunately, you and him are on different social levels. have you seen him? he’s constantly surrounded by people! the thought of even trying his food is out the window… nevertheless talking to him. you’re more quieter, with a solid, but small group of friends.

that doesn’t mean you or your friends aren’t a fan of him! every time there’s a baseball practice going on afterschool, the bleachers are filled with students alike, wanting to watch their favourite caption (+ the other members, ace and deuce are pretty popular too!) it’s often full of people so you haven’t gotten the chance to fully watch a practice game yet… not until a freezing winter afternoon.

there you were, at the front of the bleachers, with the best view you’ve gotten of any game so far! although cold and shivering, it’s fun to sit with you friends and watch them practice! although your eyes often stray to trey, it’s not like you’re not watching the other members of the team! you’ve talked to deuce before, he’s pretty nice! you wave at him sheepishly while rubbing your shoulders, trying to keep yourself warm.

trey clover is really nice as the rumours say. he’s been watching you the entire time, seeing you shivering, with rosy cheeks and a flushed expression, giggling and laughing with your friends. you’re like a lost puppy! something tugged at his heart in worry, you’re obviously cold.

during break, the other girls watched in envy as trey himself comes up to you and offers you his own scarf! wow! you and your friends silently cheer at the offer. trey couldn’t help but smile. how could the oh-so lovely trey clover not? he loves taking care of his classmates! whether they’re friends or not.

he waves it off, saying you can return it to him tomorrow. you smile at him, and clutch onto the scarf in gratefulness. trey is really a great guy! perhaps you have a chance at becoming friends with him…?

the next day, you bravely march towards trey, only to immediately turn back after seeing him surrounded by a bunch of people. uh oh. maybe you’d return the scarf to him another time. there’s too many people and you were afraid that you’ll get overwhelmed from the staring eyes.

the same thing happened the day after. then the day after that. this goes on for a month or so, until you and him get partnered for a project.

trey was confused the entire time. he’s seen you approach him and then promptly walk away. he though it was cute, but he didn’t understand why you couldn’t just give it to him.

you explained how you got nervous, seeing him surrounded by so many people, and finally gave him the scarf back on a quiet afternoon at the library, mid-science project. he chuckled and heartily accepted this. hence you made a new friend!

trey never seemed to be aware that he’s often surrounded by many people at almost all times. now that you (lowkey) knocked him into reality, he often found himself suddenly alone. trey liked his friends, as well as his alone time. but maybe he was too alone at the moment because he slowly seemed to be attaching himself to you. you were so much more comfortable, definitely less overwhelming compared to being surrounded by so much people. he’s starting to enjoy your company now.

you, however, seemed to be confused as to why he’s suddenly following you. it’s trey clover we’re talking about! the school’s prince charming…!!!

when you asked him, he simply said it was a nice change of pace. what does that even mean??? does he perhaps…? no!! there’s no way!!! you shake your head, panic-stricken. stop being delusional!!!

one crisp morning, trey found you with bandages all over your fingers. are you okay??? what happened??? did you get in a fight??? did you study too hard???

you shake your head, flustered. “it’s not a big deal” you say, smiling. “just some accidents in the kitchen. it’s well taken care of.”

trey sighs. maybe he should start helping you in the kitchen… I mean, he considers himself a pretty decent cook… and he hasn’t baked a sweet treat for you yet!

a while later, as trey started getting gifts from all kinds of people did he start connecting the dots. that’s right… today’s valentine’s day! you probably injured yourself trying to making something for the guy you wanted to confess to. he chuckled. you should’ve just asked him and he would’ve helped you no problem! maybe you just felt shy to ask because he was also a guy…

he tried looking for you, wanting to ask about who this special someone is, only to find you to be nowhere. huh. that’s odd. you were at school this morning… right?!

confused, dazed and guilty about rejecting all those girls today, he opened to his shoe locker to find a cute bag with a bow on it fall to the ground.

he only receives outright confession, never quiet, secret ones like this. this is almost like…

his eyes widen and his ears flush red as he reads your confession letter. oh. he thinks. oh dear.

taking a bite out of your heart shaped cookie, he feels a cavity already forming. it’s too sweet! but no matter, he’ll throughly brush his teeth when he gets home… the only thing on his mind walking home is finishing your (kinda failure?) baked goods and wondering how he should tell you he feels the same way… maybe baking you something too?

cater diamond [social media pretty boy]

selfie, after selfie, after selfie… you mindlessly scroll on cater diamond’s magicam. he’s so photogenic it’s insane. the light always seems to hit the right angle, his eyes are gleaming and childlike… he’s smiling… so handsome.

your finger has hovered over the ‘message’ button on his profile many times, but you sigh to yourself. he probably gets hundreds of dms a day. you’re probably just another number to his follower count. also, hitting someone up online? that’s super unromantic.

you’ve seen cater at school a bunch of times. he’s always taking pictures or flirting with some girl who’s ten times more prettier than you. you have no chance at all! the local celebrity has no time for the likes of you!!!

he’s fun, he’s loud, he’s eccentric… he’s so interesting! you would love to get to know this side of him. little did you know…

you were shuffling through books in the school library during lunch. you forgot to do an assignment and had to hurry before your next class… only to find cater diamond, slumped in a corner, asleep!

it just so happens that the book you wanted was right beside him. as you try to slowly pull the book out, he wakes up. oh no.

he stares at you, wide eyed, before dazing out and leaning his head back. you slowly sat beside him and flipped through the pages, eating your lunch and finishing up your assignment. it was well needed peace and quiet for cater.

that night, you opened your phone to find a pleasant surprise.

cater diamond started following you.

you’ve find to notice a pattern. during lunch, cater could always be at the library, slumped and dazed. no one comes here during lunchtime, except for students who could care less about the mini-celebrity cater diamond. you always assumed he went out to buy food with his friends during lunchtime. guess not.

every now and then, you say beside him silently, eating your lunch and scrolling on your phone. sometimes, he’d strike up a conversation about the latest student gossip, or an assignment he didn’t quite fully understand. but most of the time, it was just comfortable silence.

those ‘every now and then’ turned to everyday. you’d rarely hang outside of lunchtime, due to both of you being caught up in your own social lives, but it was nice nonetheless.

“isn’t it weird?” cater asks one day.

you lift your head up from your phone. “weird what?”

“you’ve see. my social media posts. isn’t it weird that I’m so antisocial here? we rarely even talk.”

you shrug. “I don’t mind. I think you’re great either way.”

cater turned his head towards you. “really? you think I’m great?”

“I’d love to know the fun, wild cater, but I also love the quiet, peaceful cater too.”

“you love it?”

“I love it.”

“well… I love you.”

leona kingscholar [politician’s son]

you couldn’t understand how you could hate someone so much without knowing them all that well, but you did.

leona kingscholar, the snobby rich kid.

you’ve seen his name when grades are posted. and it’s at the very bottom. he sleeps in class (plus, he sits right next to you! how annoying, he snores.) and is rude to almost everybody.

to your horror, he has fans.

you’ve seen parades of girls chase after him during valentines, love letters pile up in his desk, people asking you to send him love confessions on behalf of them. of course, you’re too kind to say no, and deliver the message anyway, only to be rudely scoffed at when you tell them that leona brushed it off.

you, however, manage to keep an outstanding vibe to yourself. you manage to keep good grades, be nice to everyone, have interesting hobbies and talents… you’re a pretty all-round person (as you say)

because of your good impression and responsibility you’ve shown and given to your teachers did they ask you to do some extra credit stuff. to your pleasure, you agreed. except you dropped your books when you found out that the extra credit thing is tutoring leona kingscholar.

“I’m so glad that you’re able to do this. I’m very worried about dear leona, especially considering his home life. I hope you can take good care of him.”

you smile meekly. of course teacher! what couldn’t you do? the easy going, impressionable student!

your ears did pique interested when your teacher mentioned his home life… but what’s that to you anyway? you lost interest quickly.

the clock was ticking and the workbooks between you and leona was pristine and untouched. the desk that separated you two was the only thing that seemed to prevent you from mauling him on the spot.

his hair looked well-kept and clean. his clothes neat and tidy, his bone structure… you shook your head. well, obviously he is handsome. how else does he have all those girls tailing him despite his hideous personality? you friends were excited to see how this ‘date’ (you rolled your eyes) would go. I mean, it is leona kingscholar after all.

although you call him the snobby rich kid, was is the president’s son. or well, used to be. his father stepped down from presidency and leona’s brother, falena, recently won the election from charisma alone.

when you watched him on tv, you scoffed. the kingscholar handsome genes seemed to be going strong, that’s probably what helped falena earn his spot because he is in no way a good politician. falena’s promises hasn’t been met yet, his main concerns benefited the rich (classic classism— no pun intended) and he laughed heartily at almost anything. It made him look pathetic.

as you eyed leona dozing off, you laughed to yourself. at least he’s not president, you thought.

you flicked his forehead. you watched leona flinch and frown. he had this boyish charm to him that made you wanna laugh at everything he does. you chuckled when he glared at you.

“what?” he hissed. meow.

“what do you want to start off with?” you spun the pencil in between your fingers.

leona rubbed his forehead and shuffled through his books and pulled out a math book. “yeah. this one.”

“how much do you want?” leona asked.

“what?”

“money. for you to do the work for me.”

“I don’t want money. I want honest work.”

“everyone wants money.”

“put your wallet away.”

leona stated at you, dumbstruck, and put his wallet away as you instructed.

“ugh snobby rich kids and their money.” you whispered loud enough for him to hear.

“herbivore.”

what kind of insult is that?!

days went by like this. arguing, no work done, leaving frustrated. you still refused to accept money. that would put weight on your conscience. you simply couldn’t.

one day, you started stuffing your face with your lunch that you didn’t have time to eat during school.

leona eyed your food. “lunch? after school? it’s almost 4pm.”

“augh. I know. I don’t feel like eating that much but that means I have to have this again for lunch tomorrow.”

leona took your lunch box and started picking food out and throwing it into his mouth.

“hey!”

“what? you said you don’t feel like eating.”

you calmed back down and watched him eat. “are you sure you’re okay with eating that? I don’t wanna displease mr. money’s food palatte.”

leona shrugged. “I don’t eat much at home.”

oh?

“why?” you asked

“dad’s busy with our dear president. their politic discussion is so annoying. I don’t feel like eating with them.”

you scoffed. “politics? are you sure? whatever I’m hearing from falena sounds like a bunch of bullcrap and rich-guy charisma.”

you hadn’t had the chance to realize what you had said when leona let out a laugh. “I know, right? sick of shit presidents. my dad won’t even listen to me.”

“‘oh your brother’s older, he knows better’” leona said in a mocking tone. “I dunno why he’s always on the birthing order crap.” leona handed you back your empty lunchbox. “you’re not a bad cook.”

you stared at him. you’ve never seen him talk this much in one go. leona seemed to have noticed it himself and coughed.

the next few days went by, a bit more awkward than usual. it was mostly you and him in silence. the arguing seemed to have died down.

since you couldn’t get him to do any work, you decided to catch up on your own.

to your pleasant surprise, leona was helping you! whenever he saw you were stuck on a math question, or a science formula, or any of the sort, he’d watch and explain it to you. you swore he has the lowest grades in the school. how does he know more than you?

leona shrugged. “I can do things if I put my mind to it.”

you slammed your hand on your desk. smiling in thought. as of late, you and leona started getting along better. his smarts made you grow some sort of respect for him.

“if you at least pass all your exams this term, I’ll do anything you ask.”

leona raised an eyebrow. “what?”

“well, you can do all of this right? all you need is a motivator.” you smiled. “we’ve been bantering back and forth this entire time. don’t you want me to stop calling you spoiled? please agree to to this. I really, really want this credit.”

leona pretended to be in thought before nodding. “yeah whatever.”

inner hooray!

weeks went by. leona seemed to have actually started doing his work, handing in assignments, raising his grade…

until he carefully placed multiple tests in front of you with a bright red 100 on the top of each and every one.

“I told you I could do it if I put my mind to it.”

you patted yourself. “I finally trained the animal.”

he ruffled your hair.

the next day, you were getting ready for another afterschool session with leona when your teacher came up to you.

“leona’s grades has been doing so well. I’m glad you were able to put him on track. I added the extra credit on your record. you deserve a break, you can stop tutoring him now.”

oh… right. all of this had to come to a stop eventually.

you went home earlier that day, and suddenly found yourself with so much more free time.

the next few days went by, with no leona in sight. the distaste you usually had for him seemed to wither away… you kind of considered each other as friends. would it be too mushy to say you missed him?

one warm afternoon, at the end of school, you were heading to grab your shoes and leave when a familiar voice called out your name.

leona.

“oh… hi!” you smiled at him. you really, truly didn’t hate him anymore. all of that seemed to be so far ago.

leona spoke in a gruff. “hey… so….”

you knew leona was handsome, no doubt about it. but was he always this oddly attractive? his eyebrows were dark and moody, his eyes (they’re green! you never noticed) glimmered under the sunshine spilling from the windows. he looked to the side, shuffling awkwardly, his hands in his pockets. leona is a confident man. you never saw him so tensed up before.

“you said… if I pass this term you’ll do you anything you want from me, right?”

oh, right. you kinda wished he forgot about that. guess not. better prepare yourself to be his servant, or something. (for some reason, you didn’t seem to mind)

“yeah… I did say that. so. what do you want?”

“I want you to go out with me.”

rook hunt [the competitive dramatics]

is this possible to dislike someone who doesn’t even know you exist?

rook hunt, the king of drama, would be seen whistling tunes from the latest musical he watched, looking over play scripts and performing random acts in the middle of the school hallway. get out! he’s so annoying.

what’s worse is that although he seems to be carefree and going with the flow, he always seems to be topping you at everything. got a 99 on a quiz? would you look at that, rook got a 100. learning a new language? rook speaks french! auditioning for lead role? rook already got the spot!

even hearing his name makes you fume in the ears. rook hunt is overall well-liked, he probably isn’t even aware of your secret competition with him.

finally… finally!!! you look up at the cast of your school’s new upcoming play. you got the lead! and… rook got the second lead…

he’s playing romeo… in romeo and juliet… and you’re… juliet… oh!

you roll your fists. it’s fine. it’s fine. it’s fine. you’ll manage. you worked hard for this. you’ll manage.

first day of practice, rook prances in speaking french. romeo and juliet takes place in italy you idiot!

“bonjour, roi de la jalousie!”

you roll your eyes, showing your displeasure. “hello, rook.”

the first few playthroughs went as perfect as it could be. most of romeo and juliet is just romeo losing his mind over a 14 year old girl, so it wasn’t like you and him had to be intimate. yet.

“okay. in act 2, romeo and juliet kiss at the party. preferably, I’d prefer to re-enact a real kiss. but if you guys are uncomfortable, we could—”

“oh, non! I could not! to make a play so touching and real, it is important that we kiss! but if our dear roi de la jalouise is uncomfortable…”

not wanting to back down against rook you shake your head. “no, no! that’s fine! we can kiss!”

you left that day mortified. you didn’t even have your first kiss yet. what is wrong with you?!

the day came to rehearse the kiss. you chugged your bottle of water and marched on stage.

you said your lines carefully, avoiding eye contact with him. the rival you made up in your delusions, a little rook with devil horns and a tail, was somehow (in reality) much taller, prettier and kind of intimidating to look at now. you felt awfully shy.

as his face leaned against yours, he only looked at you gleefully once you finally made eye contact. both of your lips were close, but he didn’t kiss you. huh?

once it was break time, you sat down at the edge of the stage dumbfounded. everyone else left backstage for pizza, so it was just you in an echoey theatre.

that was until rook came in and sat beside you, holding two paper plates of pizza. he handed one to you.

“you don’t have to kiss me if you don’t want to.” rook said, smiling. he was unusually calm.

“n-no! I want to!” you replied too hastily. you truly didn’t seem to hate him at this moment. you only felt flustered.

“I know you are competitive. especially with me. even though your fierceness is truly beautiful, I do not advise you to do something you are not comfortable with.”

oh. you look at him. “you noticed? haha….” suddenly, all that competitive spirit you had felt childish.

“well of course! It’s what drew me to you. it’s especially why I auditioned for romeo, even though i was more interested in mercutio.”

you felt yourself turning red. he auditioned for romeo for you? just for you?

“well… i already told the director I’m okay with the kiss… it’s a little too embarrassing to take it back now.”

“well… perhaps if we practiced together, you’d feel more comfortable, mon amour?”

you laugh. “you keep calling me french names. what does this one mean?

rook gently kissed the space between your eyebrows. “my love.”

(ps: roi de la jalouise means king of jealousy!)

vil schoenheit [international star]

vil schoenheit is a celebrity. a big, all-time, internet sensation kind of celebrity.

a model, an actor, an influencer… he’s everything!

he’s gorgeous, lovely, not like those other celebrities who are horrible in real like and kind only on the internet.

you feel blessed to know that someone as famous as him is going to the same school as you.

vil is popular, undeniably so. everywhere you go, you see him greeting people of all kinds, receiving gifts and panicking after making a girl faint from his magnificence alone.

oddly though, he’s often by himself. like he has no friends. you tilt your head in confusion. someone like him must have hundreds of friends, right? maybe he considers the entire student body as his friends! does that mean you’re his friend too?

you pinched your cheeks. there’s no way someone like him would notice you! no matter how generous he is, you understood it’s difficult to get alone with everyone.

on one fateful morning, you ran into your classroom to grab your forgotten gym clothes when you pause right before opening the door, hearing frustrated mumbling.

“these stupid fans and their stupid demands”

you peered in through the door window and saw vil schoenheit retouching his makeup, frowning.

there was an awful churn in your stomach. for some reason, you felt like you shouldn’t enter the classroom. but between making it to phys ed in time and have a good first impression on a big-time celebrity, you chose to enter the classroom. it’s not a big deal anyway, it’s not like you and him even talk all that much.

you opened the door to see vil turn his head, almost like an owl as you quickly crab walked to your desk and grabbed your clothes before running off.

like expected, you didn’t see vil at all after that event. although he didn’t seem as lovely as you expected, it didn’t really turn your view of him upside down either. you’re weren’t a big fan of him anyway, so it wasn’t a big deal at all.

until one day, he cornered you.

“did you tell anyone?”

“tell what?”

“what you saw.”

you couldn’t help but laugh. “it was one slip up. it’s not a big deal.”

vil glared at you. obviously, you didn’t understand the severity of the situation. if he, vil, a high-end celebrity, screwed even the slightest, it would massively deter his career.

“okay, fine. but I don’t want you to tell anyone about this going forward. if you want an autograph or something, I’ll do it but—”

you shook your hands. “It’s fine. you don’t have to.”

vil raised his eyebrow. you don’t want anything from him? you’re not blackmailing him? everyone always wants something out of him. but he shouldn’t push things further.

he sighed. “alright. but give me your contact information. I’d rather keep track of you instead of worrying.”

your eyes glistened at the bright new vil schoenheit in your contacts.

it was just like that. you had an untouched number on your phone. having someone so famous like him giving his number seemed enough. since there was no other reason for you guys to talk, you guys barely interacted after that (although you’ve felt like a pair of eyes was watching you more often than not)

you didn't expect to run into vil again, so it was a surprise to see vil working in an empty classroom afterschool.

"stupid sports festival..." vil mumbled to himself before his eyes locked with yours.

his eyes were an enchanting colour. something tugged at your heart when you saw a close glimpse of his eyes. lavender. sharp, pristine eyes, long lashes... vil had a sort of maturity to him.

feeling yourself turning red, you blinked a few times before greeting him.

apparently, the ever-so-kindhearted vil has volunteered to work on the upcoming sports festival's banner. no one else wanted to spend their free time doing it, and vil freely told you that he felt pressured about his image because he wasn't saying anything. reluctantly he offered and now here he was.

your tilted your head. vil was just simply expressing what he truly felt about something to you. what happened to the hesitant, suspicious vil that you met all those months ago? does he trust you or something? but you guys barely even talk properly!

unfortunately for vil, you had offered to work on the banner weeks ago. however, only a few of the sports festival committee knew. the rest did not, including vil. (you weren't even aware vil was apart of it)

"well an extra hand couldn't be bad!" you say happily, clasping your hands. "would you consider your a creative person?"

a few weeks went by, planning, discussing ideas and purchasing materials. (you mostly go alone because you had to learn the hard way that vil gets recognized quite easily, even with a tight disguise)

soon, you and vil slowly started going home together. vil lives close by, saying it's better than riding some fancy car and attracting even more attention. your school's neighbourhood was quite rich so when you first passed his house, your jaw dropped. wow! it's so big!

eventually, the banner making, the sports festival planning and discussing came to an end. your impression of vil made you assume that both you and him would be going on your own paths.

"where are you going?" vil said, as you were already walking out the door.

"...home?"

"I thought we went together?"

maybe you were wrong!

everyone used to whisper about vil schoenheit. the kindhearted, friendly student at school. the mega-huge celebrity, the popular boy who always kept a distance with others.

now, everyone whispers about vil schoenheit, the kindhearted, friendly student at school. the mega-huge celebrity, the popular boy and his best friend, you. attached at the hip. are they dating?

you're surprised at vil's ability to keep you hidden from paparazzi. he was worried that rumours would rise, especially since he started inviting you over to his place. everytime pictures of him would surface the internet, you were never mentioned... luckily.

you sat down in front of him, eyes closed. vil has been getting loads of skincare PR as of late, and he's been trying the products on you, worried it would break him out. he had a shoot coming up soon.

"I haven't read my script yet and I have to leave the city in a week. could you believe the amount of procrastination I've been doing?" vil scoffs at himself.

"you didn't tell me you're leaving."

"don't worry. it's for only two weeks. I'd be back in a blink of an eye."

you huffed. "I'm gonna miss you, vil."

vil's ears flushed. but your eyes were shut closed.

"I'm gonna miss you too, I guess."

vil was wrong. after he left, time seemed to have gone slower. you were so used to spending so much of your time with him, you felt like you forgot how to hang out with other people.

you bought sweet treats with your friends, went to photobooths and stressed out about assignments and tests, but vil was at the back of your mind at all time.

"I'm coming to the airport tomorrow." vil said over the phone.

"I'll come and see you!"

"don't. too many people are gonna be there."

vil smiled at the other end of the call. he knew you'd do it anyway.

...and he was right! there you were, waiting in a crowd of a bunch of people. you were worried that he wouldn't see you.

it was fine. you knew how worked up he got about his personal and work life mixing. maybe it wasn't a good idea to see your best friend in a field of paparazzi.

well, it was too late. cameras started flashing and people started screaming a familiar name.

you tried to squeeze to the front of the crowd as best as you could, but to a point you had to stop and depend on your toes and only hope he could see you.

as a blonde boy with a mask on entered the scene, you saw him turn his head around, looking for something, until his eyes met yours.

you've always thought those eyes had a mature, elegant feel. but for some reason, this time, his eyes felt full and boyish, emotional.

you popped out from the back to see that vil has already found you, giving you a tight hug.

"vil! vil! there's paparazzi here!'

your face was squished against his chest, but you could still see and feel the pictures flashing.

"aren't you worried about, you know, those rumours surfacing?"

vil shook his head, smiling. "no, not really. not when I want them to be true."

idia shroud [gamers can actually look good?!]

you: HIII can u plz carry me in val im dying uwu

gloomurai: alright what the flip.

you: be my pocket sage kitten

gloomurai: ok fine wait for me

you stare at the chatroom between you and your online friend, gloomurai. you've been talking to the guy for a while now, and he seems to be overpowered in every game, carrying you in all your favourites nonstop. does this guy even have a life? you laugh, as you stretch your back.

it was winter break, and your house's heater was broken. while it was getting fixed, you've been spending your days in your favourite gaming cafe, in the warm heat of the pc and the warm computer screen.

you: bro im in this gaming cafe and this guy beside me wont stop mumbling i think im going insane

gloomurai: lmao im in a gaming cafe too

you: what??? rlly?? omg which one r u at

gloomurai: ignihyde cafe lols

you: WTF ME TOO???

gloomurai: HUH

you: WHICH SECTION R U IN

gloomurai: im in section 3A

you: OH MY GOD

gloomurai: what??

you: IM IN 4A

you slowly turn you head to the guy who was mumbling beside you the entire time, him doing the same. you peeked your eyes to his computer screen to have your chatroom open.

is that... your classmate... idia shroud????

you've heard about the guy. he's shy, gloomy (no pun intended) and quite repulsive to approach. of course, you've heard a number of girls talking about how hot and tall he is, how much they loveeeee loser boys.

but his attractiveness was not what caught your attention. your online friend for over a year was your CLASSMATE??? a guy you barely even talked to??? hello?? is anybody hearing this???

you suddenly felt silly for calling him your pocket sage.

that night, your phone was open to his chatroom. idia immediately stood up and left the moment you guys met eyes, so you didn't get a chance to talk to him properly.

he clearly had the green online status on his profile, but he wasn't messaging you at all like he usually was. I mean, he's someone you apparently know in real life, so there's no harm in striking up a conversation, right?

you: soooooo

you: who knew that we knew each other irl? lol

you: i mean we dont rlly talk in school so um this is kinda awkward lmfao

you: we can stop being friends online if u want

you: but i won't have anyone to carry me in league :(

you sat the tiny seen beside your message. for the next five minutes, you say idia typing and then not typing. like he was going back and forth. you just waited patiently.

gloomurai: no i still wanna be friends w u

you: u sure? i mean u kinda js dipped lolsies

gloomurai: yeah i know n im sorry i kinda panicked omfg

gloomurai: i never thought you'd be into videos and stuff thats kinda cool

you: huh?? you didn't think that?? have you not seen my anime keychains and video game characters on my phone wallpaper??

gloomurai: no i did but i thought u didnt know what they were....

you laughed, and spent the rest of the night texting him.

your heater was fixed at that point, and had no reason to go back to the gaming cafe (your mom reprimanded you for spending your entire break playing video games) so you didn't see idia until the start of the new semester.

he was still always that shy kid you knew at school, so you approached him first.

"hey idia!"

he looked up from the video game on his phone, eyes widening at the sight of you.

"u-uhm... hi."

"so! how was your winter break?"

you sat beside him, making yourself comfortable. idia tensed up but he seemed okay with it.

"I mostly played video games... like usual."

"haha, I've always thought how weird it was that you were overpowered in so many games! I mean, I've been playing just league for a solid while now and you're just so much stronger than me! in other games too! how do you put so much time into videos games?"

you've seen idia's name often at the top of exam grades when they were posted, you thought all he did was study. now your impression of him changed.

as time went on, idia seemed to have calmed down around you. he wasn't as shy anymore and started talking to you normally like how he'd be online.

when you and him were just internet friends, he refused to voice call. now, he would call and play games with you after school.

he started tailing you everywhere at school, so you even introduced him to your friends and told the funny story of how you and him first met on a game. idia seemed to get along with them as well (you've managed to garner a small group of game nerds, idia fit in smoothly)

idia was indeed tall, despite his posture (imagine how tall he would be if his back was straight) and had bright blue hair, like fire. he often reminded you of a dating game love interest, the loser, gamer boyfriends in video games. when you told him, his cheeks flushed so red that you swore even the colour of his hair changed too.

he was also handsome too, you concluded. you already knew this, but having a closer look at your face really did make you confirm it. the family genetics seemed to be going strong because when you came over to his place one time, you met his younger brother ortho, and was just as cute and pretty and handsome! (you kinda wanted to adopt him what the freak!)

for his birthday, you gifted him a pair of cute kitty hair pins. you knew he liked cats, and you also thought his hair covered his pretty face too much. you thought maybe it was too cutesy for someone like him, but surprisingly, he wore it no problem! whenever you two sunk into the couch to play games, idia would pin his bangs back to focus. hair strands fell to the front of his forehead and you often wanted to push them back and kiss it... WHAT! what are you thinking!!! he doesn't like you that way, wake up and stop being delusional!!!

your feelings for him seemed to be so one sided. he's talk comfortably and casually with you, like a best friend. someone he totally wouldn't have a crush on. you've been trying to get over it (they're only brief feelings, you swear!) but everytime your skin even slightly grazes over his you started to sweat.

maybe you should just confess.

one hot summer night, you're seated beside idia on the floor, shooting down a bunch of zombies. this has been both of your guy's 17th try.

finally... yay!!! you guys managed to complete the round and you cheer in celebration.

"oh my god!! finally!!! idia you are so awesome!"

"I know." he smirks. "what would you do without me?"

you have no idea. you think.

maybe it was the heatwaves. maybe it was the whirring fan only hitting one spot on your back, not cooling you at all. maybe it was because of chewed up popsicle stick sitting in your mouth. but you felt brave.

"I like you." you say.

Idia's smile falls. he turns to look at you.

"I mean- uhm- I- uhm-" oh god. you wanted to hide in a hole right now.

the game's loading screen was playing funky music. you were sweating, from the heat or the confession? who knows.

"what would I do without you? nothing, idia. nothing. I think about you all the time. even slightly grazing shoulders make me panic. I really, truly do like you."

before he can even reply, you continue.

"and.. you treat me like a brother! your best friend! yes, we are friends, but can you treat a person like me with some interest?? I've liked you for months, idia. how did you not get a single hint?!"

you breathe in. and breathe out.

"so. I want you to make a decision. right here, right now. do you like me back? or have I been pining over nothing?"

you stare at him. his eyes are wide, confused, like a cat. you found it so, so cute. you wanted to kiss those eyes, his cheeks so red and flushed from the summer heat, you wanted to kiss his forhead, his jaw, his lips.

your faces were close. you often forget how close in proximity idia likes to be around you.

idia seemed to struggle to make eye contact with you. he looked to the side, then the other side, and then looked down.

"I'm not the only stupid one here, you know."

huh? you blink.

"I also...thought...this was...one sided..." idia's voice egst smaller and smaller. you have to frown to hear him.

"did you not realize why I stay so close behind you? because...uhm..." idia hesitates. "because... I like... you... too. but you were so free... and awesome and cool like that or whatever... and I thought there would be no way you'd look in my.... direction like that."

your heart thumps. the game's music seemed to blur out. the fan was whirring quietly, the grasshoppers buzz outside the open window.

you heard idia's breathing, you saw his eyes spilling the colour of amber. you licked your lips.

the light of the game screen was blocked from your sight as you closed your eyes and felt idia's warmth near your face.

lilia vanrouge [delusional chef]

cooking was something that was special in your heart. it was safe to say that you were utterly disappointed that no one was interested in your cooking club.

the only members were you and your senior, lilia vanrouge.

soon, however, you came to realize why no one wanted to join your club. lilia's cooking was a hideous!

apparently, he was infamous for bringing in the nastiest stench of a lunch to school. for some reason, you were the only person who didn't know! after finding out that lilia joined the cooking club, no one else wanted to join.

you sighed. you needed at least 4 members to be officially registered as a school club.

with lilia's help, both you and him went around promoting and encouraging your club, as well as spending your days cooking.

most of the time, it was just you trying to prevent lilia from doing something ridiculous. there should have been no reason for you to try to convince lilia to not put three pounds of sugar in stew.

salty food tastes sweet, sweet food tastes salty, food in general started to taste gross...

you were exhausted. but for some reason, having the time of your life!

lilia vanrouge was a year older than you, so there was no reason for you to really talk to him. but every time you saw him in the hallways, you always thought he looked so cool with his dark hair striped with vibrant pink and his cute and mischievous vibe! you were glad to be able to finally get to know him, even though he is graduating this year.

you were close to giving up. you were almost at the month mark and no one wanted to join. lilia patted your pack gently as you sniffed.

"it's okay... the school year is ending soon anyway. you can always try next year! obviously I won't be here to help you, but you could still give it a shot."

you smiled at him. of course it was gonna work next year, by that time, lilia would've long gone off and people would actually be interested. it be your senior year next year last well, so you knew you'll have to give it another shot.

so when the end of the month approach, you heartily accepted your denied club application. it was fine! you'll try next year!

it wasn't like home ec. didn't exist. there, you'd cook and have fun.

you kind of missed lilia and hanging out with him, so you started approaching him with new dishes you've made.

"oh! how lovely! it seems that your skills have approved ever since I helped you with cooking! my, my, I must be a chef master of sorts..."

you were nailed in the heart because of the ego hit, but you laughed nonetheless. you thought lilia was silly, fun and interesting. hanging out with him was never boring, and if there was an excuse to hang out with him again, you totally took it.

once you started bringing your dishes, lilia started bringing his own to you. it's like he wanted you dead. they tasted awful. but one bite after another, you smiled meekly as you forced yourself to eat. "it's delicious!" you'd say enthusiastically, as if you didn't just risk burning your stomach out.

lilia would smile, pleased. "wonderful, wonderful!" he'd always say, clasping his hands together.

you would always make extra food when you cooked. lilia was always in your mind when in the kitchen.

so when the last day of school slowly approached, you baked a bunch of cookies to give out to some of your senior friends, lilia included (don't tell anyone-- but lilia's bag had the most and best batch of cookies)

you sheepishly gave it to lilia on the last day. your dear lilia-senpai was graduating, someone who brought a little excitement to your life.

"thank you so much for taking care of me this year. I hope you have a good life outside of highschool!"

when lilia saw your gift, he started to laugh. "what a coincidence! I made some for you too."

he took out a bag of chocolates, storebought.

"I know you don't like my food all that much, so I decided I'd buy food instead. thanks for dealing with my cooking all year, haha."

you took a bite out of your chocolate. it melted in your mouth and the sweetness exploded. you hoped your cookies would taste just as good.

suddenly, lilia stretched out his hand and gently placed his thumb on the corner of your lips.

"you got something there" he said, as he wiped a chocolate mark. without breaking eye contact, he licked it off his own thumb.

"have a great summer."

malleus draconia [shielded rich kid]

unrequited love is so embarrassing. especially if that other person doesn't even know you.

you've been head over heels for malleus draconis for 3 months. all you think about is him. all you want to see is him. but he doesn't even know you.

it was one fateful day, when he picked up your dropped pencil case for you, when you saw his soft smile and emerald eyes. his porcelain skin and his long, elegant nails. you decided from that day on, you were madly in love with him.

so, you've done what any normal person would do and deep dived everything you could find about him

malleus draconia, 3rd year, son of a successful entrepreneur, under draconia co. he likes reading, gargoyles and ice cream, he's good at instruments like the cello and violin... he's been seen exploring ruins... you're not a creep! you swear!

you have this vision in your head where malleus is a prince charming who saves you from the evil villain who wants to sell you for money.

one day, when you were going to school on a crisp morning, someone sat beside you, waiting for the bus.

the guy was unusually tall, so you turned to see malleus draconia standing before you.

"oh hello! I remember you, are you heading to school as well?"

panicked, flustered and nervous, you frantically nodded.

"I've decided I wanted to take the bus today, but I'm sure how I want to approach it. could you help me? ^_^"

"uhm.. o-okay!"

nearly shaking, you sat beside malleus on the way to school.

why was he even taking the bus anyway? wasn't he like, filthy rich?

you friends congratulated you on finally talking to the guy you like when you arrived. you laughed and said that's probably the only time you'll ever talk to him.

however, the next day, malleus was beside you once again.

"good morning!"

you only mustered to say a hello.

"I really enjoyed the bus ride yesterday. Do you also take the bus. to go home?"

you nodded.

"well, I was wondering if you and I could go home on the bus after school? I have some to understand you have to go to a different station to go back? I tried to find it yesterday, but it was just too difficult."

you nodded, again. you could not seem to talk, nervous.

that day, your friends pushed up towards him and left you alone, saying you finally have a shot of getting to know him.

this became a pattern.

every morning you'd take the bus with him to school. once it ended, you and malleus took the bus home together. you weren't sure exactly where he lived, but it was enough to know that he probably lived close by. probably the wealthy neighbourhood you've passed by multiple times.

in your mind, malleus. is perfect, elegant and charming.

in reality, malleus is a sheltered, clumsy and curious boy who really liked taking the bus to and from school.

you started to relax near him too. obviously, you're still nervous and shy, but knowing that malleus isn't a higher being like you made up in your mind, and just a rich kid who has hobbies and interests like any other, you felt a little calmer each day.

"have you done anything other than take the bus?" you asked.

"no, except going on business class on flights."

you laughed. "I was thinking..." you breathed in. "sotheresthisbakerythatopenedandIwaswonderingifyouwantedtogo" you spit out in one breathe.

malleus, like the impressive guy he is, caught everything you said. "well of course! I've been to many in europe, but I've never tasted any pastries here. I usually get them shipped. I'm quite curious!"

entering the bakery, malleus' eyes glimmered like a child.

he said that his family usually chose what he ate, so he really never got a choice. you saw him struggle to pick what he wanted and you offered some suggestions and even paid for it (malleus accidentally gave two hundred dollars for a two dollar bread, he has no concept of money)

seeing malleus act like this, your feelings for him shattered. no, not entirely. just the feelings you had for the cool, distinguished malleus you had in your head. the side of malleus he only showed to the public. instead, you fell in love with the boyish, cute and confused malleus you were seeing now. the side of malleus that he deemed you were worthy enough to see.

this year, it hadn't rained much. so you knew that if it rains, it's gonna pour, hard.

so, after school, you and malleus stood, umbrella-less in a rainstorm. buses were cancelled due to trees fallings.

"well, I could call my driver. if you tell me your address, I can definitely drop you..." malleus stopping talking as he saw you run into the rain. you didn't hear him.

"come on! I know a shortcut! if we run fast enough, we can make it back."

malleus has never met someone so free like you before.

running towards you, you grabbed his hand and pulled him forward through an unknown side of the road.

although the rainstorm was cold and wet, it felt cozy and warm now that his hand was holding onto you. malleus truly thought you were a breath of fresh air.

you started to laugh at yourself. how ridiculous. malleus, a higher class, local rich kid, was following you, someone from a lower class than him, someone not worthy of him. halfway there you realize he could've just call his driver to pick him up. you felt so silly.

"I'm sorry to drag you into the mess" you yelled amongst the splashes of the rain hitting the ground.

when malleus saw you smile and laughing as you apologized for something so silly, he suddenly could imagine an entire future with you and him together.

[songmingisthighs]

Cornered

group : ateez

pairing : bf!mingi × reader × yeosang

genre : smut

wc : 3.9 k

tw : mdni, unprotected sex, consensual sex, explicit smut (voyeurism ??, mingi's kind of a cuck maybe ??, spitroasting, brief mention of yunho with a feetish, creampie, sloppy seconds, slight m × m, double stuffed), mingi and mc ganging up on yeosang, slightly more dominating mingi, can't think of anything else to warn :/

a/n : happy birthday my womp womp beefcake raccoon !!! i had planned this fic for a week maybe ? and i decided to just post this on yeosang's birthday as like a dedication thing and ofc i had to include mingi in this because who am i if not songmingisthighs ?? lmaoooo

a/a/n : it surprised me that i was able to finish this one so quick

buy me coffee ?

Yeosang felt odd from the moment he stepped into the dorm Mingi shared with San and Seonghwa. There was something about the aura that sent shivers down his spine.

He had received a text from Mingi, asking him to hang out at his place as his roommates would be out the whole night and they had no schedule the next day. So it was quite a surprise for Yeosang to see you on the couch, lounging before rushing to hug him as soon as you took notice of his arrival. He had assumed that the reason Mingi invited him in was because he had no one to accompany him. Apparently not.

What got him feeling even more odd was the fact that you were particularly touchy with him even if your boyfriend was pressed on your back with his arm slung around your shoulders.

It all came down to when the flustered Yeosang excused himself to grab some cold water. Thirsty, he excused himself, but the sight of you in Mingi's oversized t-shirt with what he had accidentally discovered a lack of bottom save for your panties when you oh-so-clumsily dropped his hand that you were playing with onto your lap, smack dab between your legs. He felt so wrong for having his heart beating out of his chest because it was his best friend's girlfriend and no matter how she was acting, albeit slightly too bravely. It reduced Yeosang to a fumbly, bumbly man who had to calm himself down.

Unbeknownst to him, you and Mingi were smirking at each other, knowing that your plan had worked. See, Mingi had a feeling that Yeosang was somewhat attracted to you as seen from the way he paid attention completely whenever you were talking or the way he brought you up in conversation especially when they were talking about interests. But one thing that struck most was the way Yeosang complimented you and then blushed. This intrigued Mingi and he proposed that you two allow Yeosang to have fun with the two of you.

Finalizing your plan, you and Mingi walked over to the kitchen where Yeosang was hunched over with his forehead pressed on the cold marble counter, trying to calm himself down.

Unfortunately, the slight touch of your hand on his shoulder caused his heart to jump and body to straighten out.

"Aww, are you nervous around me, Yeosangie?" you teased, a smirk etched on your face. Yeosang swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head but Mingi chuckled, cutting him off as he proceeded to step closer to him. "Come on, you can't even utter a word and we can see your dick twitching from accidentally touching my girl's pussy," he teased.

Yeosang's eyes widened and he looked down to his crotch almost immediately to see that there was in fact an imprint of his slowly hardening cock, prominent on his grey sweatpants. Yeosang kept staring at it in shame while your eyes sparkled with mischievous glint, almost mirroring the look on Mingi's face.

Realizing the fact that you and your boyfriend were looking at him like Siamese cats with a plan, Yeosang could only gulp nervously.

He had walked into a trap.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

It was a challenge trying to get Yeosang to break out of his shell because you know that he wanted to touch you as much as you wanted to touch him, if not more. He wouldn't even touch you even after Mingi told him that he could, not even when you riled him up by stripping (which was basically just you taking off the shirt you borrowed from Mingi) and plopping on his lap, and not even when you started making out with your boyfriend right up in his face with your tits groped and fondled by Mingi's rough hands.

The moans you were making sounded like music in Yeosang's ears and he couldn't help but be aroused seeing the way you and Mingi were enjoying each other as if he wasn't there. Little did he know (because he was too busy watching you), Mingi was keeping an eye on Yeosang the whole time, particularly his reaction. It was a known, unspoken secret between you two that your boyfriend has the tendency to get super risky when there are people around in case you both get caught because deep down (and by deep down, it's really just almost on the surface), Mingi is kind of a voyeur, that's why he told you about his observation over Yeosang because he found it hot that his friend wanted the girl he has.

With a soft touch, Mingi tapped your hip gently, signalling you to detach for a bit so he could nod in Yeosang's direction.

"I think Yeosangie feels a bit neglected," you smirked, now paying attention to him by pressing your body flush against him, your crotch right on his hardened cock and your arms around his shoulders, "I'm so sorry."

If Yeosang thought he was aroused when he was watching you and Mingi, he was now risking cumming in his pants because you had started sucking on the skin around his chest. God bless Yeosang in tank tops.

"Come on man, I know you want to touch (y/n), you're so red in the face and you're really straining from holding yourself back, just relax, let it be," Mingi smugly said as he positioned your hips outwards so you were in a kneeling position on top of Yeosang who couldn't help but let his breath hitch when Mingi started grinding his own erection on your clothed cunt. "I- I," Yeosang stuttered as his eyes rolled into the back of his head from the way your mouth was sucking a hickey at the base of his neck and your finger rolling his nipple over his tank top, "I just-" he tried finding an excuse but he couldn't think of anything because the reality was all three of the parties involved consented, all three parties wanted this, two parties are enjoying it, and one party is being too stubborn for his own good.

Yeosang almost let out a whine when you detached your lips from his skin but he held it in, even as you stared up at him with pleading doe eyes, "Don't you want to touch me, Yeosang? Don't you want me? Don't you like me?"Just that easily, Yeosang's resolve melted and he pulled you into a hungry kiss, eliciting a moan from your smirking mouth. Mingi, on the other hand, took this as a chance to move forward. With only your panties in the way, Mingi ripped the flimsy fabric off of you while simultaneously working to get his cock out of his pants, not even bothering to take them off completely. "Tell me what you want to do to my girlfriend," Mingi said directly to Yeosang as he rubbed his tip on your wet slit. "What?" Yeosang could barely answer as his senses were filled with you. "Tell me all the things you want to do to (y/n) and maybe, just maybe, I might let you do some of them," Mingi was fibbing a bit because he was definitely really going to let his friend do whatever he wanted to you. But he wasn't going to outrightly say it because he still should have all the power. "I-I-" Yeosang struggled to even clearly discern what exactly it was that he wanted because, in all honesty, he only cared about being inside you and feeling good, experiencing pleasure with you with or without Mingi. Although, the idea of Mingi being there and maybe even telling him what to do made his cock strain even more in his pants.

The snap of Mingi's fingers broke Yeosang's daze and he was met with the sight of Mingi raising an eyebrow at him, "Don't look at her, I'm the one in charge here." It was new to you but you found it really hot the way Mingi was talking about you as if you weren't being sandwiched between two men, on the verge of being fucked by your boyfriend while pleasuring his friend.

An idea suddenly popped into your head and you had to bite back a condescending chuckle at the expense of the poor man under you. "Oh baby, you don't really wanna do anything to me, do you? You want me to do things to you," and in the following moment, a breathy "Yes" escaped Yeosang's lips as if it was a sinful little confession, the same time Mingi groaned and pushed himself wholly inside you.

Yeosang's eyes widened and his jaw slacked because, in all honesty, he had somehow expected to not be able to see much but obviously, he was wrong. "Oh fuck," he gasped, "OH FUCK," he gasped again when he felt your hand on his bare cock. When did you got him out? Your hand had pushed the bottom of his top upwards, revealing his well-toned abs contracting as you began pumping him with your hand. "Yeosangie likes it," you teased, pushing your ass back onto Mingi to make room for yourself, "I guess we finally broke you, huh?" you teased one last time before taking Yeosang in your mouth and started bobbing your head mercilessly, loving the way he filled your mouth just perfectly as opposed to your overly endowed boyfriend who had started thrusting in you.

Yeosang never considered himself a pervert nor did he ever experience the desire to know his best friends' private matters. Literally private, he even walked away when Yunho talked about liking his toe sucked (although that might be because it was so out of pocket), but he couldn't deny loving seeing you sucking his dick while being fucked by Mingi's. It honestly made him wonder what other things you and Ming do and discuss in private because if this was just a glimpse of what you two are into, he could only imagine what other things you two might do. To him or otherwise.

The way you and Mingi were working together was nothing short of mesmerizing to Yeosang. You both were so in sync with your movements. He took notice of how Mingi's thrusts were adapting to the pace of your mouth, making his movements more languid and more unifying. He couldn't help but think that it was almost as if Mingi was pleasuring him with you and the thought effectively made him blush.

But soon enough all coherent thoughts were pushed away when your hands started fondling with his balls and you weren't shy with your movements either. "Fuck, baby he likes that," Mingi laughed, absolutely enjoying seeing his girl reducing one of his best friends into a panting, whiny mess. The more Yeosang groaned and whined, the more Mingi was riled up. His eyes darkened the moment he noticed that Yeosang had absolutely conceded with the way he gripped your hair and pushed your face even closer to his crotch, effectively forcing more of his length down your throat. Mingi wasn't worried about you handling his friend because he himself was a rough lover. You had taken and initiated a lot of things with Mingi, he had even experienced you using your safeword on him. So knowing your limitations and capabilities which, in his mind were superb, Mingi felt a sense of pride in sharing you. In a way, he was showing you off.

As shy as Yeosang is, he had to admit that the obscene sound of your pussy being abused by Mingi's cock and you choking on his dick, along with the feeling of drool trickling down his balls drove Yeosang to his first orgasm. Your eyes widened when you felt cum shoot down your throat without warning, causing your fingers to grip Yeosang's tensed thighs for support, your nails dug through his sweatpants only making his hips buck into your mouth. Other than the soft pants and occasional moans, the grunt Yeosang let out was probably the loudest sound he had made that night. Even as you let his softening dick out of your mouth and opt to lick him clean, Yeosang still kept the majority of his whimpers to himself.

"Fuck yes," Mingi panted, his nose twitching as his hips moved wildly, chasing his own high as to join Yeosang's high. "Don't cum (y/n), don't cum just yet, I want you to keep everything in until Yeosang gets to fuck you."

Once the words were processed in Yeosang's head, it felt as though his dick was going to come alive again. "What?" he asked at the same time you whined in displeasure, wanting to cum especially after Mingi and Yeosang got theirs. "You heard me," Mingi smirked, his grip tightening on your hips, caging them still as he sent thrust after thrust until his body suddenly tensed, shooting a warm stream of cum into your awaiting pussy. The feeling of being filled up sent shivers down your spine and it was torture for you because usually, you'd already been cumming at this point at least once or twice. Or thrice if Mingi was in the mood so it frustrated you that you were told you couldn't cum. The frustration brought tears to your eyes that were soon wiped by Yeosang's gentle thumb, causing you to crack a small smile.

Unfortunately, your moment was ripped away when Mingi pulled you up by the hair, allowing Yeosang's eyes to zero in on your crotch, particularly the way your cunt was swallowing Mingi's above-average size, some of Mingi's cum spilt despite you being plugged full. Mingi didn't miss the way Yeosang's tongue darted out as if wanting to have a taste, of your cunt, the cum, or even Mingi inside you was unsure but there was a clear desire in his eyes that not even he wanted to hide anymore.

"Now, you get your turn," Mingi stated directly to Yeosang in a way that was almost hypnotizing that he didn't realize Mingi's hand had wandered to his cock that twitched in his touch. Yeosang's toes curled the more he thought about the fact that his friend had a hand on his cock, trying to get it back to erect while his girlfriend stood between them, grinding her hips to get some friction, looking at him as she bit her bottom lip as if it wouldn't affect Yeosang even in the smallest of ways.

Without wasting any more time, Yeosang pushed his body off Mingi's bed to take off his sweatpants quickly and captured your lips in a searing kiss again, enjoying your enthusiasm along with your boyfriend's ministration on him. "You're driving me crazy," Yeosang said against your lips, momentarily shifting his gaze at Mingi who was staring deeply into his eyes, "Both of you," he finalized, confessing how he was feeling.

Proud, Mingi squeezed Yeosang's cock once before sliding his out of you, "Stuff her," he commanded, "Stuff her before my cum leaks out." Thankfully, Yeosang's brain was intact enough to comply and within seconds, your head rolled back to your boyfriend's chest as Yeosang filled you in. It was obvious even from the first push that Yeosang's cock was nowhere the size of Mingi but what he lacked in girth, he made up in length. Yeosang, for the first time that night, almost broke his demeanour as he bit back a smug smirk when he saw you shudder the moment his tip kissed your cervix. The feel and the notion that it was Yeosang stuffing you with your boyfriend pressed to your back was what gave you the feeling.

The cum Mingi dumped in you served as a lubricant, allowing Yeosang to immediately started thrusting in you. Before, when you were still discussing with Mingi about this opportunity, you only imagined what Yeosang would be like but now, you can definitely say that Yeosang was more on the softer and sensual side which was a refreshing change because Mingi is passionate and aggressive.

"Fuck, that feels good, Sangie," you exhaled breathily with a satisfied grin on your face, not even realizing that you were practically using Mingi as a wall with Yeosang thrusting into you and his lips on your shoulder, leaving marks from him biting and sucking that would remind you for the next few days that another man had touched you under the watchful eyes of your boyfriend. "He knows what he's doing, huh?" Mingi teased, slipping a hand down to circle your clit with his middle finger, purposefully letting his touch graze Yeosang's cock every time it moved in and out of you. "He really does, baby, God, had I known-ah- that he'd feel this good I would've asked to fuck him a long time ago," you moaned, lifting a leg to hook around Yeosang's slim waist to get more access of him. You didn't even care that you were making a mess on Mingi's bed by letting his cum drip down to his sheets. To be fair, any concern regarding the sheets would've been gone the moment you and Mingi pushed Yeosang onto the bed. Thank God he's so pliable.

Yeosang happily anchored your leg with his hand, as he thrust harder, the way you talked about him with your boyfriend made him more desperate, particularly about the fact that he could've fucked you sooner had he shown any sort of interest in the matter. Luckily, it was better late than never.

"You know what would make it feel even better?" Mingi smirked.

You and Yeosang's bodies froze when you felt Mingi tapping the tip of his cock against your entrance. While you were simply caught off-guard especially since you were in such a deep sex haze, Yeosang was surprised by two things; the fact that Mingi would want to share you to this extent, and the fact that having two cocks in you at the same time seemed like a normal occurrence to you. The way Yeosang was looking at Mingi worriedly made the taller man want to pinch his cheek and call him cute. "Don't worry man, (y/n) can handle this," and with that, he began pushing inside you, skin to skin with Yeosang.

The pleasure Yeosang felt was unlike any he had experienced. There was this biting tension building in the pit of Yeosang's stomach simply from the way Mingi's cock felt dragging against his on top of feeling the tightness that closed in more and more when Mingi kept going.

You were faring no better.

Your eyes had rolled back into your skull and the leg that was around Yeosang's waist hooked him in even tighter as if you didn't want to let go. The position allowed Mingi to enter at a better angle and easier but the drag was still excruciatingly delicious.

Once Mingi pushed all the way in (as far as he could without making it impossible for any one of you to move), the three of you simply stayed in that position for a while, waiting for you to get used to having two men inside you first. Yeosang had the advantage of seeing your dicked out pussy and he felt both shame and arousal from enjoying the view.

"Holy- (y/n), you're so full," he said breathily, experimenting to see what would happen if he moved and when your knees buckled slightly, he immediately pushed his body flush to your front so you were effectively sandwiched between two men, "I got you," he ensured, arms enveloping your body.

Seeing as you and Yeosang were getting comfortable, Mingi huffed before he too started moving, setting a pace for everyone. The first few thrusts were rather slow and prolonged but the more your moans got louder, the harder the thrusts became. It came to the point where there were no real words coming out of either one of your mouths, only pants, grunts, groans, and moans. The sounds and smell of sex mixing together made Mingi think that he would be thinking about this moment for quite some time but he couldn't say that he was opposed to it because he wasn't.

"I need to cum," You whined, lifting your head that had dropped to Yeosang's shoulder to look at him, "Help me," you pleaded. Yeosang, too focused on fucking you, was momentarily confused. It wasn't until you took his hand and put his middle and pointer fingers in your mouth, licking and sucking on the digits, did he realize what you were asking of him. "Please," you almost whimpered pathetically. Yeosang's fingers went to immediate work on your swollen bundle of nerves, having it rub against his toned abs caused you to be more needy.

Between the two men, you were reduced to nothing but a doll for them to enjoy. Not that you were complaining because everything just felt all too good. Your boyfriend was practically rearranging your guts with his friend and his friend was helping you chase your orgasm.

"Mingi," you whined, "N-need to let go now," your hips were moving on their own to chase the high from both men's cocks and Yeosang's fingers. Surprisingly, Mingi gave Yeosang a knowing look, letting his friend know that he was sharing the control which was a good thing for you because Yeosang didn't even hesitate to nod. In fact, he was nodding eagerly, wanting to experience your release while he was still inside you. "Do it, cum (y/n), cum for us, cum for Mingi and me."

The way Yeosang spoke drove you straight over the edge and your legs snapped shut as you finally climaxed. Yeosang's breath hitched the moment your pussy contracted, forcing his cock to halt its movement and his hand to be stuck between your bodies. Unlike him, Mingi never stopped thrusting even when it became hard, he settled for a slower pace as long as there was still stimulation and it was a good thing that he did because thanks to his relentlessness, Yeosang was reaching his high. He almost came with Mingi who was already stuffing his second load in you but he had the good sense to pull out.

Just as he was halfway out, you whined and took a harsh grip on the hair on the back of his head. "No," you frowned, "Inside me," the demand was clear but Yeosang was still unsure. Despite his release teetering over the edge, he still took you and your boyfriend into consideration. Luckily, before he could do anything else, Mingi reached around and pulled Yeosang by grabbing his ass and shoving himself back into you so he could release inside of you. You gasped and your muscles contracted once again, causing Yeosang's cock to twitch and finally let go deep inside you. The thought of his cum mixing with Mingi's made him blush because, despite everything that had happened already, that one part will remain in his head the longest.

Neither of you dared to move; you due to still calming down, Mingi due to replaying moments and scenes in his head, and Yeosang due to wanting the moment to last longer.

Never would have Yeosang imagined that he'd be glad that he was cornered. The only thing he could wish for was for it to happen again. Little did he know that his wishful thinking was shared with the couple in front of him. It was just a matter of when they could corner him again.

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[asidian]

I nattered on about this a while back as an addendum to one of my other posts, but it got a little lost since it was a reblog, and the idea of it's stuck with me, so I wanted to come back to it again and expand on it a little.

One of the major themes of Dead Boy Detectives is that the good you do comes back around.

It surfaces and resurfaces throughout the series. The instances in the final episode are the most spelled out for the viewer, but there's one example that lives at the very heart of the show that isn't quite so obvious on first glance.

When Charles dies, Edwin is newly returned from hell. The show doesn't specify the timeline aside from that he escapes hell in the same year he meets Charles, 1989, but overcoming that much trauma within a year is a big ask any way you slice it. He's spent seventy years in survival mode. He's got to be a wreck, still.

At this point, he hasn't had time to develop any complicated leniency schemes to keep himself out of hell. Certainly their detective agency hasn't been formed yet. It comes later, in 1990.

For the entire rest of the series, Edwin has a least a partial ulterior motive for the good he does. He takes on cases and tries to make an impact for their clients at least in part so that he can build himself up such a shield of decency that if he ever gets dragged back to hell, he can try to plead his case. He's so ashamed of this that he doesn't admit it out loud until he's forced to by magic.

But when he meets Charles, none of that plan is in place yet. Here he hasn't taken the time to sit down and work out a plan at all. Here the agency doesn't even exist.

He sees this boy in the attic, beaten and freezing and huddling in a corner, and he comes to offer the only thing he thinks he can: light.

And when he realizes he can give more than that – when he realizes that Charles can see him, and what that means – he stays and gives more. Comfort, and kindness, and company, in the very darkest hour of all.

He takes one look at how battered Charles is, and he tells him, "I shan't hurt you."

And it is a big deal.

Arguably this one line is the very best thing he could have said to Charles in this situation, and Edwin, who struggles with people, who has spent seventy years in hell, who is still trying to sort through his own trauma, takes one look at this boy who has been beaten soon-to-be to death, and he knows that intuitively.

And to Charles? It must have meant everything. Charles has spent his entire life trying to be good enough. He smiles and struggles to please. He does the best he can for whoever he can, and for his entire life, it has never been enough. He's been hurt, over and over again, for failing to live up to his father's impossible standards or guess at his impossible rules. His so-called friends turned on him and murdered him for trying to keep them from hurting someone else.

He's on the verge of tears, alone in the dark, dying.

And then Edwin steps up carrying the metaphorical and literal light in the darkness, and one of the very first things he ever says is, "I shan't hurt you."

That's the baseline. That offer comes when Charles isn't putting on a show. He's not being brave, or strong, or charming. He's hiding in a corner, quietly freezing to death. But here comes this boy anyway, with a light in the darkness and a promise not to hurt him.

It's a moment of simple, honest kindness – of Edwin doing good because he sees someone and he wants to help.

And to Charles, it makes such an impact that he gives up his afterlife for this boy. He spends the next thirty years stepping in front of things that would do him harm. He keeps the lantern and brings it with him, when he comes to save Edwin from hell.

It's that very first moment of kindness, in the attic, that sets into motion the events that result in Edwin's rescue.

That one moment of genuine good, with no furtive selfish side intentions, comes back around to save him. He only knows Charles at all because he stopped to help. Charles only didn't pass on to his afterlife because Edwin was there for him.

And then, all those years later, Charles sets out like Orpheus down into hell to get his best mate back.

That good has come around again. That light in the darkness, literally and figuratively both, is there for him in his lowest moment because he offered it to someone else when they desperately needed it.

And that's beautiful.

[dr-spencer-reids-queen]

Broken Mind, Broken Soul

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.6k

Warnings: heavy angst, abuse scars, post-prison!spencer, parent/domestic violence (explicit), pretending to be fine when you're not, smut (maybe considered CNC? i'm not sure but better but that on here)

Summary: Spencer is back from prison so he’s trying to pick up the pieces and get back into his old life. Something is off about you but he respects your boundaries until he sees what you’ve been hiding from him.

Square Filled: cold-blooded torture for @badthingshappenbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

Spencer is home. He’s home and everything is going to go back to the way it was. He’s not going to find you. He’s not going to hurt you anymore. You want to be happy that your boyfriend is out of prison after nearly three months of being locked up for a crime he didn’t do. He suffered in there and you couldn’t do anything about it. He’s home now, and everyone is so happy to see him.

You stare at your reflection in the mirror and try not to break down in tears. This day is for Spencer. He’s home. You can take a break from your personal shit to give him a proper welcome home. If you can do that, you might make it out of this alive. You shake your head and plaster a smile on your face, one that looks like you’re not dying inside.

You leave the bathroom in search of your boyfriend who is spending time outside away from everyone. Spencer must have gone through hell inside the four walls of the prison so it’s a bit overwhelming to be back to his normal life. Everyone must understand that because they’re inside having a good time and giving Spencer his space.

You push past everyone and walk over to Henry’s small playground. Spencer is swinging lightly on the swings and you stand by him, waiting for him to look at you. When he does, you can see how empty they are. God, Spencer, what happened to you? You hope your eyes aren’t as empty as his. You’re really trying hard to put on a brave face but you’re not sure how much longer you can do this.

“Hey,” you say softly.

“Hey, yourself.” You walk around the other swing and sway in sync with Spencer. “Tell me what you’ve been up to since I was gone?”

You were and are afraid of this question. You’ve been preparing yourself for this question since hearing he was coming back but you never knew how to answer it. One wrong word and he’ll know exactly what you’ve been up to.

“You know, working cases like normal. We helped a lot of people but it wasn’t the same without you. I just tried to get through the day every day.”

“Yeah, I get it,” he sighs.

He believes you. He has no reason not to. Spencer looks at you to see a faraway look in your eyes. Maybe it’s just him but something might not be right. The look is gone in a split second and you’re back to pretending. Maybe it’s just him.

“Look, I know Rosis wanted to throw you this party but want to go home?”

“Yeah, I do,” he nods.

You two say your goodbyes to everyone before heading home. The drive is silent like you two don’t know how to talk to each other anymore. Sure, it could be the fact that Spencer has been in prison this whole time but he suspects something else happened. You two didn’t talk much but he doesn’t know what could be bothering you.

It’s been nearly three months without you in his bed, and he can’t help himself when he sees you in his bed. It’s been three months since he’s touched you so he walks over to you and crawls up your body. You want to enjoy this. You want to be here for him but you’re stuck inside your own head. You don’t dare let him know what you’re thinking so maybe if you go along with it, you can slip further into the facade you’re putting up.

You two kiss but he’s so wound up that he doesn’t register that you’re not as into it as he is. You’re here for him, that’s all that matters. You’re okay with this even if your body is telling you no. He reaches for your shirt but you’re quick to grab his hands to stop him.

“Keep the shirt on.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I just want my shirt to stay on.”

“Okay,” he nods respectfully.

He kisses you in all the right spots and touches you where he knows you like to be touched. He is doing absolutely everything right so why do you want to break down in tears right now? Get it together. Just give him what he wants. It might fix you. So, you listen to that part of your brain. He flips you so you’re on your stomach and fucks you from behind. You grip the sheets tightly and put your face in the bed so he doesn’t see the tears, so he doesn’t hear your cries.

You love Spencer and you’re trying hard not to let him see your true feelings. You don’t want to hurt him. It has nothing to do with him but you’re scared to let him see just how broken you are. Thankfully, he’s spent by the time he’s done so he doesn’t see the tears on your cheeks. You immediately roll over and put your head over his heart, and he runs his fingers through your hair. He moves his hands down to your back but you immediately spring away from him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just need to shower.” He goes to move. “Alone.”

He watches you disappear into the bathroom with a frown. Since the BAU is requesting that Spencer take some time off, he is forced to stay home while you go to work. Everything seems to be the same but this time, you’re gone before he can wake up, and you get home right before he goes to bed. You don’t change in front of him anymore which is the first red flag. He has seen every intimate part of your body, tasted every part of you, so why are you hiding from him now? He’s not going to be a dick and force you to do something you don’t want to do, but why now?

What happened to you while he was in prison?

“Hey, are we okay?” Spencer asks one night after you had just gotten home from work.

“Of course we are.”

“Okay, because if we aren’t, you’d tell me, right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine, Spencer.”

You walk into the bathroom to take a bath, leaving him to pick up the pieces you didn’t know you dropped. I’ll be fine. I’ll be fine. It’s the “be” part that is setting off alarm bells. If you had said, “I’m fine”, he would have passed it off and left you alone. The fact that you added the word “be” means you’re definitely not fine. The last time you said, “I’ll be fine” was when he had to pry you from your cold-hearted and evil father’s arms right before he went to prison for what he did to you.

Damn, he should have seen the signs before. You had shut everyone down. You didn’t want to be kissed or touched. You stayed in bed for seventy-two straight hours before Spencer had to force you out of it. Your father is and was an evil man who did untold cold-blooded torture to his own daughter. Your emotional scars don’t show but the physical ones do--whip marks, cigarette burns, and stab wounds. Anything to get his anger out.

Spencer walks to the bathroom carefully and knocks twice on the door. When you don’t answer, he pushes the door open to see you with your back turned toward him. There are newer and fresh scars on your back from the same kind of torture. Some are pinker than others. These ones are recent but how can this be? He hasn’t let you out of his sight since… Prison. He kneels next to the tub and looks at you but you’re not seeing him. You’re staring at the faucet as a single drop of water leaks from it.

“Who did this to you?” Spencer asks angrily. You don’t answer. “Was it your father?”

“He got out of prison when you went in. He found me at work and took me back to that farm,” you whisper. “I was just about to take two weeks off so no one questioned why I was gone. He kept me for three before he just let me go. I got back just days before you did.”

It takes Spencer five minutes to say something because of how angry he is, and he has all this pent-up anger that he’d love to get out.

“Is he breathing?” You can only nod in response. “Not for long, he won’t.”

Your head snaps up at his response but he’s already by the door.

“What are you going to do?”

“Something I should have done the first time around. That man will never touch a hair on your head ever again.”

Spencer leaves the bathroom door open so you can see what he’s doing. You get a flash of his FBI gun before he’s out of frame. You don’t stop him.

You’re in bed when he finally comes back. If you didn’t know where he was going, you’d think he went to the store. There is not a speck of blood on him or an ounce of regret on his face. You don’t ask where he’s been or if your father is alive even though you know he’d tell you if you did. Spencer climbs into bed and pulls you into him, and you rest your head on his chest.

I’m safe now. Spencer is home and everything is right with the world.

It’s going to take a long time until you’re okay again but with Spencer by your side, you know you can get there.

x

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[sp0o0kylights]

Part one here:: link

"oh i dunno if Im going to finish this" I say, right before the plot ate me. anyway this was too big to post in full to tumblr. If you want the full, completed fic (with bonus Fun Fic Facts tm) it is finished and up on A03 here:: link

TW vomiting, drug use

Eddie is good.

Eddie is kind.

Eddie does not run over Henderson’s bike, laying haphazardly in Harrington’s pristine driveway, even if it would make him feel better. 

He does slam his van into park with enough force to make the brakes squeal, which he decides is an excellent way to announce his appearance to the entire neighborhood. 

It’s a move he’s pulled countless times. Charging in and making a scene meant people forgot that he couldn’t actually fight for shit, and equally, took their attention off whatever their original target was.

Which in this case, was Eddie’s too fucking nice freshman. 

The rage pulsing through him is white hot and all encompassing, and it’ll get him through a lot--but the switchblade he carries ensures everyone’s safety in these little matters. 

It makes him brave.

Braver than he should be really, but Eddie spent the entire drive over here chain smoking out the window while prepping for this little confrontation and the more he’d thought it all over, the madder he got.

That a washed up jock thought he could still take advantage of actual children. 

Nevermind Hellfire, or Henderson ditching, or Sinclaire’s ranting. 

This was about their relationship with Harrington. 

A picture has been building in Eddie’s head. One that’s only gotten clearer after today, and one he will be putting an end to, because he doesn’t believe for a second Harrington has a headache. 

Henderson might always be the smartest person in the room, but he’s dumb as hell socially. Too honest, too blunt, and frankly, too goodhearted. 

That makes him easy to take advantage of. 

Sinclair was worse--the guy was too easy to guilt trip. 

It was a noted issue with his ranger, and apparently, himself, and Eddie could easily see how Harrington could have twisted the idea of some ridiculous life-debt to keep Lucas in his clutches.  

Even Mayfield, Billy Hargrove’s former stepsister, was wrapped up in Harrington enough to have a go at her own friends over him! 

She wasn’t even one of his flock, but Eddie was her neighbor. Saw how her mom was barely home. How she was practically raising herself, head down, doing her best not to ever let people see her cry. 

Yeah.

Wouldn’t exactly be difficult for a guy like Steve Harrington to swoop in and take advantage there. 

Wheeler clearly wasn’t a fan and Eddie can only come up with reason after reason as to why--King Jackass had the poor kid’s entire friend group under some kind of--of sick spell.

Well. 

Eddie was here to break it. 

Even if it meant storming into the King’s castle by himself and calling him out on his shit. 

Nobody fucked with his people. Especially not douchebag, washed up jocks. 

He’s up to Harringotn’s ridiculous double doors in a flash, banging hard on the wood with a closed fist, positively fuming and uncaring of who sees. 

Surprise, surprise, it’s Henderson who opens it.

“Eddie?” He says, blinking up at him like he’s not sure of what he’s seeing.  “What are you--hey!” 

Hey, because Eddie’s pushed past him, storming into the house. 

“This has gone on long enough.” He announces, loud as he ever has been. “Where the hell’s Harrington?”

Henderson, frustratingly, does not weep or throw his hands up in celebration of Eddie’s incoming rescue. 

Which is fine--Eddie hasn’t broken the spell yet.

Unfortunately he is bitching, in that infamously annoying tone of his.

“Dude, shut up, Steve’s pills really only work for like, an hour--” 

“Fantastic, he’ll be clear headed for our little talk.” Eddie tells him, head sweeping left and  right as he looks for his target. He’s been in Casa de Harrington a few times before to deal, but it was always at night.

He can now say with perfect honesty that the place looks worse in the bright light of the day. 

“Was that Eddie?” Sinclair calls, and Eddie orients towards him instantly, storming down the hall. 

It doesn’t take long to find the kid. 

 Lucas is standing in a kitchen larger than Eddie’s entire trailer, a too-large pink apron drowning his frame. 

He turns, revealing the front of the thing has  ‘Whisk Taker’ written on it in syrupy white font. 

(Baking puns. Disgusting.) 

“Are you cooking?” Eddie accuses with a sneer, though his disgust isn’t aimed at the freshmen. 

This is exactly what he was afraid of finding. 

Lucas just stares at him. “Uh--yeah?” 

“What did I say about too many people, Munson?” Mayfrield spits angrily. It takes a second to locate her--the kitchen is enormous and far too white--but eventually Eddie realizes she’s perched up on a counter next to the largest sink he’s ever seen. 

For a second, Eddie thinks that’s just where she’s chosen to sit. Then she moves, and he realizes she’s washing and drying a series of water bottles. 

He never in his life thought he’d witness Maxine Mayfield willingly do someone else's dishes. 

“Someone get me Harrington.” He’s not trying for anything dramatic, but his voice must sound dangerous because all three freshmen stop dead, eyes wide as if he's just spoken in tongues.

He zeroes in on Dustin with a glare. “Now.”

Who huffs, throwing his hands up in the air like Eddie’s the one being unreasonable here. 

“Absolutely not--we just got Steve to sit down. He’s been following me around the house insisting I’m causing more problems than I’m fixing!”

“Because you are.” Steve says, voice dripping with calm condescension as he appears like a wraith in the doorway. “And I know you’re all into the whole dungeon game, Munson, but this is a little dramatic, even for you.”

Eddie whirls to face him, already vibrating with fury. “Oh, that’s rich, coming from the guy who’s treating them like his personal minions. What’s next, Harrington? Gonna make them re-shingle the roof? Paint your house? Wax your car?”

Steve gives him a flat, almost disbelieving stare. “Do you seriously think I had Henderson miss your game just so I could lounge around while he’s doing chores?”

Eddie doesn’t bite, too busy unloading. “Oh we can both see it’s more than that.”

He doesn’t notice the way Steve’s jaw tenses, or how his hand creeps up to the side of his head, rubbing at his temple. 

“Anything else you want done, Harrington? Maybe make ‘em mow the lawn?” Eddie sneers. “Or teach ‘em to plump your pillows just the way you like—”

Steve finally snaps, pushing himself upright. “You know what Munson, you're right,” he says, voice tight with barely-contained frustration. “I’m clearly a terrible person they need to be rescued from so--”  

He cuts himself off with a hiss,  eyes squeezing shut as his hand goes to the side of his head, and spits out his next words like they hurt. 

“You can play the good guy and take them all home.” 

Dustin, with an exasperated sigh, steps between them. “No,” he tells Steve sternly, as if managing an unruly child, before spinning on his heel to say the exact same thing, in the exact same tone--to Eddie. 

(Jackass freshman can’t even appreciate when they’re being actively rescued!) 

“Eddie, I promise that this isn’t what it looks like.” 

For anyone else it would sound like a plea, but Henderosn somehow makes it condescending.

“We can explain, alright?” Dustin says, raising his hands as though coaxing a skittish animal. “Will you let us explain? Please?”

Eddie glowers. 

“You clearly do not, in fact, know what this looks like. Because if you did,” 

Eddie can make himself menacing and he does so now, pulling on every single year of drama and theatrics and lying to cops he’s had, pushing his shoulders back and making his body tall.

“You would know that it looks like a guy who peaked in high school is forcing a bunch of fourteen year olds to do his bidding.” 

He takes an aggressive step towards Steve, boots thunking hard on the floor. “And that isn’t happening on my watch.” 

“Aren’t you like an extra super senior?” Mayfield says, arms crossed over her chest. 

“Irrelevant!” Eddie swats the air in her direction, as if to physically bat away her words. “I’m still in high school and I’m not emotionally blackmailing a bunch of kids into waiting on me hand and foot while I fake a headache!” 

“Oh ew.” Max’s nose scrunches in disgust, a mixture of disbelief and fury warring on her face. “That is not what’s happening here.” 

“Were you even listening earlier?!” Lucas says, like he can’t quite believe Eddie is this dumb. 

(His character will be the next to die, so Eddie swears.) 

“I did.” Eddie points a finger at him, triumphant. “I heard all about how he’s tricked you into thinking you owe him a life-debt!”

“A what?” Harrington’s squinting, like he’s struggling to follow along what is happening. It’s a halfway decent sick act, Eddie will give it to him, but he knows the facade will drop in a moment. 

As soon as the asshole loses his temper and decides to try and throw Eddie out, he’ll switch from the Poor Me act into the usual pompous, rich dick on a rampage persona. 

“How he’s saved you all, convinced you and Henderson that you’re in debt to him.” 

“Could we just---please stop yelling?” Steve says in the background, heel pressing hard against his eyes. 

Then winces like his own voice hurts his head.

“What the hell, Eddie?!” Dustin’s cut across the room, stepping in between the two older teens. “Where did this even come from!?” 

“Guys.” 

“The mouths of babes, Henderson. Which you would know if you witnessed Sinclair’s rant instead of missing out because King Dickhead demanded your presence at his castle!” 

“Guys.” Steve’s voice abruptly takes on a weird tone, and it’s only Mayfield’s eyes popping wide that has Eddie realizing something is wrong--right before Harrington shoots past him, noisily hurling in the sink.

“Gross!” Max shrieks, throwing herself off the counter. 

Harrington aims a shaky middle finger in her direction. 

“I just washed those bottles Steve, I'm not washing them again!” Mayfield rants, but she’s not fooling anyone. Not with the way she’s already edging back towards him, like she’s afraid he might fall over. 

(Worse, like she might try to catch him, as if Harrington’s broad, barbarian-like shoulders wouldn’t flatten her instantly.) 

“Al-’right.” Harrington slurs a moment later, still panting over the sink. “Everyone--out. Now.” 

“Steve--” 

“Nope. Making it worse. Out.” 

He manages to stand and turn, leaning hard against the counter and for the first time since this all started, Eddie looks at him. 

Properly, and not through the lens of righteous fury. 

Harrington’s pale.

The shirt he’s wearing is stained with sweat marks, his sweatpants clearly old and worn for comfort rather than style. 

His hair…

Eddie has never seen Harrington without his infamously perfect hairdo, and the messy, slick waves plastered to his forehead is more of a shock then him vomiting in the sink. 

He’s got his hands pressed hard against his eyes again, and there’s a slight tremble in his fingers that belay he’s likely in a lot more pain than he’s letting on.

In short, Harrington looks like absolute shit, and Eddie, maybe, possibly, the tiniest bit believes he actually has a migraine. 

Well, it was that or he was really committed to the bit… 

The tense silence that has befallen them all is ruined when Harrington makes a ‘hurk.’ noise.

“I’m going to throw up again.” He decides after a moment of contemplation, before whipping back around to the sink and doing just that. 

“Steve’s right.” Mayfield decides suddenly, over all the nasty noises. “We should leave.” 

“I’m almost done cooking!” Sinclair protests, as if Harrington isn’t presently throwing up the contents of his stomach. 

“You’re almost done burning things, you mean.” Max mutters, but her words can’t hide the blatant concern written all over his face. “I don’t think he’s going to keep anything down.” 

“He needs us to finish what we started.” Dustin argues passionately. “You know how bad he gets, he’s not gonna be able to get up in an hour!” 

(A clear exaggeration, because Harrington looks like he’s not gonna make it across the kitchen unassisted.) 

“What I need is for everyone to stop talking so fucking loud.” Harrington moans, before appearing to give up on life entirely. 

He sort of sags against the counter, resting his head against his arms while bent double, as if that would help things. 

It was at this point that Eddie had the most unfortunate realization that he might be the asshole here. 

Because Harrington looks rough--and if he actually does in fact, have a migraine, then Eddie has done nothing but make it worse.

(Very likely the freshmen have as well, given Dustin is incapable of talking in anything other than a loud yell, and the smell of Lucas’s burnt food has permeated the air.

Mayfield seemed to have accomplished a small amount of actual work, at least.

…If Harrington managed to miss throwing up on the water bottles.) 

“Look,” Harrington interrupts with an audible, thick swallow.“You guys did great, and I appreciate the uh, help. I’m fine, I promise, you can all go home. Munson,” 

He doesn’t turn, but his voice does change into something that’s half pleading, half demanding.

“Can we please fight about this tomorrow? Or next week?” 

“No fighting!” Dustin shrieks, which has the effect of making Harrington cringe into the counter--and that is what finally kicks Eddie over.

Bows to the instincts that now want to wrap up Harrington in a blanket over the ones that want to strangle him, (though both are very much at odds in his head with each other.)

“We can put a pin in it.” He says, all the venom dropping out of his voice,  already knowing what’s going to happen next and hating himself for it. 

Even at his absolute worst, Eddie has never been able to resist trying to fix a problem he’s been presented with--or turn down someone who needs help.

Harrington, clearly, needs help. 

“You heard him.” He tells his freshman, then immediately holds up a hand when all three try to protest at once. 

“Ah-ah, inside voices.” He himself uses a harsh whisper, and then has to fight not to laugh aloud when all three abruptly eye him like he’s lost his head.

He probably has.

(Fucking King Steve.

No one who is that much of a douchebag should ever look that pathetic without deserving it, it’s against the Munson doctrine.) 

“Henderson, have you done anything actually useful while you’ve been here? Like, say, getting a warm washcloth?” 

“I--oh.” Dustin’s on the defense instantly, but for once actually listens before he finishes his sentence. “Uh. No.”

“Go do that then.” Eddie instructs, making sure to keep his voice quiet and even. 

“Sinclair, toss out the eggs, then take the garbage out so it’ll stop stinking up the place. Mayfield, see if these windows open. Harrington…” 

He pauses, watching as Harrington tries to gather himself, moving slowly and deliberately like even breathing hurts. His entire appearance is grating Eddie’s nerves—not because he doesn’t care, but because he does, and that’s infuriating. 

“Go lay down, man.” He finishes lamely. 

He expects the freshmen to listen to him. Knows they will, in his heart of hearts, even if they bitch back, because that’s just how things are when he decides to take charge. So few people truly want to, that others are often relieved when he does. 

Steve Harrington is not most people.

If he argues, he could very well tip things out of control again, which means Eddie is likely going to have to force the trio of fourteen year olds out of the house. 

Henderson and Sinclair he can manage but Mayfield…

Thankfully, Steve pushes off the counter with a groan, muttering something under his breath, but slowly making his way toward the couch without any other protest. 

The freshmen exchange glances, all of them looking just as unsure as Eddie feels. Like they’re waiting for instructions now that their default leader is down for the count.

He clears his throat pointedly. 

“Hello? Did I not give you marching orders?” He bats his hands at them. “Go march!” 

Mayfield mutters something that sounds an awful lot like “hypocrite” but thankfully, does as asked. 

“Are you gonna give us a ride home?” Henderson asks as he finally starts moving around--hopefully to get a damn washcloth. 

“You got yourself here, you can get yourself home.” Eddie scoffs back, taking stock of Harrington’s kitchen. 

He eyes the line of pain pills laid out on the counter, quickly noting not one of them is anything that would help with a sneeze let alone a migraine. 

Typical. 

“Why not?” Dustin disappeared down a hallway, but the fact Eddie can still hear him plain as day speaks to his ability to keep quiet. “You have your van, don’t you?” 

“Because I’m not leaving when you three are leaving.” 

It’s an absentminded comment, given his mind is elsewhere. 

Weed may be his bread and butter but he does have a handful of more serious things on offer. 

Of those things, one or two have some fun little unexpected side effects, and if Eddie recalls Rick’s yapping right, one of said things was stopping headaches. 

Said magic little mushrooms might even be in a pocket or two, here, if he remembers right… 

“Wait, you're staying here?” Lucas protests, far too loudly. 

"Ssszzhh!" Eddie hisses, drawing out the sound dramatically, mostly for the sake of cutting off whatever protests were coming his way. 

“No arguing. Your beloved King clearly needs a nap, and that means you’re all off duty. Unless," he adds with a raised eyebrow, "you intend to watch him sleep?"

Dustin looks torn, but mutters a quiet, "No," his eyes shifting sideways like he's weighing the logic.

"Good. Then if you’re all finished…?”

He waits for the nods he knows are coming. 

“Excellent. Now leave." Eddie says, pointing towards the door. 

They hesitate for a second, but then finally begin to shuffle out, the door clicking quietly behind them. 

And just like that, Eddie’s left standing there, watching Steve breathe shallowly on the couch--with a washrag over his eyes.

(At least Dustin managed that.) 

He could leave now. 

Should leave, really. Giving out drugs for free is not exactly a good business move and Steve will no doubt sleep the headache off without it. But Eddie’s feet don't seem to agree with him, rooted in place as his gaze lingers on the sharp line of Steve's jaw, the slight twitch of his brow every time a muscle aches.

Feels the pull, deep in his gut, to provide the relief he knows he can give. 

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s moving, crossing the room toward him.

“Munson?” Harrington squints up at him as he registers his presence, washcloth nudged upwards by shaky fingers. “Why’r you still ‘ere?” 

“Because I’m stupid.” Eddie mutters, right before realizing he actually said that outloud. 

“What?” 

Thank God for Harrington’s headache. 

“You look terrible, man.”  Eddie says slightly louder. “That hair of yours is so flat I think your crown’s gonna fall right off.” 

He’d meant it as a joke--spoke it like one, but it seems to snap Harrington out of his pity party. 

The sigh that blasts out of him is a whole body affair, and gets his feelings across better than his words do. “I get it. You thought this was something else and it wasn’t. Not the first time that’s happened.” 

He turns, cheek scraping against the fabric of his shirt, red rimmed eyes squinting against the light to look at Eddie. 

“You got your laugh in, so you can go.” 

There’s defeat in his voice. Like he’s accepted this might as well have happened. 

(Like he’s just as beaten down as anyone Eddie has ever saved.) 

“I didn’t stick around to laugh.” Eddie keeps his voice soft, and that somehow, makes the next part easier to say.  

“I honestly thought you were messing around with Henderson and Sinclair, and I uh, I’m used to being the only person who gives a shit. When that kind of thing happens.” 

Harrington grimaces. 

“It’s okay.” he mutters, eyes sliding closed once more. “Most people still think I’m an asshole.”

His tone has gone odd again, wrecked and rasping, migraine clearly trumping whatever strong feelings he had on the matter. 

And the stupid thing was, Harrington himself was never really an asshole. 

Sure he went along with the assholes, and he definitely egged them on if not outright participated in some of the lower tier shitty activities, but he wasn’t the guy slamming people into lockers. 

(Eddie, in fact, has a hazy memory of Steve telling off Hagan for doing said locker slamming.) 

It didn’t make him a good guy--he’d had slung too many insults around to get that label--but in the rankings of assholery, his was of the average variety. 

Which means that Eddie cannot logic himself out of his own stupid desire to help.

Even if he really, really wants to.

“Yeah well, even assholes need assistance sometimes, and since I kicked your help out, it’s on to make up for it.” 

“No offense,” Steve slurs tiredly, “but I don’t think you’re any quieter than Dustin.” 

A smile ghosts over Eddie’s face. 

“I live in a tiny ass trailer, Harrington. Trust me,  I know how to be quiet. I simply choose not to be.” He moves, slow and careful, until he’s seated next to the fallen King on his stupidly huge (and very uncomfortable) couch. 

Steve’s eye follows him over, staring up as he white knuckles his sweatpants, washrag sitting crooked on his forehead. 

“I’m not sure I’m not gonna throw up again.” He admits after a moment. 

“And that right there is one of the things I can help with. Provided,” Eddie waggles his eyebrows, “that you don’t mind taking a more recreational route for your recovery?” 

“....are you offering me drugs?” 

“I am indeed.” Eddie confirms with a real smile, plucking the offending baggie out of a pocket. 

“You ever done shrooms, your majesty?” 

Steve huffs a quiet noise that might have been a snort, had he put any effort behind it. 

“How is that going to help?” 

“Be-cauuuuuse,” Eddie draws the words out, still a showman even if he is doing his level best to talk as quietly as possible, “shrooms are what we call a psychedelic, and those are pretty well known among certain circles as the headache healer.” 

Provided one took the medicinal amount and not the down-the-rabbit-hole amount. 

Harrington’s eyes are back open, only this time they’re looking at Eddie’s fingers the same way a dog looks at a nail trimmer: concerned and not entirely unsure it wasn’t going to bite him. 

“I’m not…” He cuts himself off, frowning. 

“You’ve bought plenty of my weed, Harrington. Trust me this isn’t any different.” Eddie tells him. 

Isn’t offended in the slightest--this reaction is pretty typical for people who have only smoked the ganja. 

Even the ones who asked to try for something with a little more ‘umph.’ 

“S’not that.”Steve admits quietly. “I uh. Had a bad trip. While back.” 

“Ah, gunshy.” Eddie says it without a lick of judgment, because Eddie’s been there.

Or rather in the shower, at two am because he accidentally spilled LSD on his hand and promptly tripped balls for 48 hours after.  

 “I’ll hang around a bit, if you like.” He offers casually. “Make sure things don’t go sideways.”

He gets another huff-snort as Harrington’s watery eyes return their attention to him. 

“And what are you going to do if they do go sideways?”

“Put you back together again.”  

Eddie knows his grin is crooked, but can’t help it. He’s thinking about Humpty Dumpty and the King’s Men.  

Somehow he doesn’t see Steve Harrington cracking that easily—at least, not without putting up a good fight—but drugs did worse things to better people. 

“It really helps?” Steve asks, voice quiet. Doubtful.

Eddie presses his hands to his chest. “Scouts honor.”

“You were not a boy scout.” Steve tells him, but he’s struggling to sit up anyway, looking game. 

“Alright, so how do I do this?” He asks, though he’s already halfway down again, propped up on his elbows.

“First, you lay back down, and I’ll brew it into tea,” Eddie explains. 

“Tea?”

“Well, you could eat them straight, but I don’t think they’d taste too great. Not that I wouldn’t mind watching you try.”

Steve scowls. “Sadist.”

“Guilty,” Eddie replies, biting back the urge to sing-song it, keeping his voice down and steady. “Just a heads-up: they kick in fast, but I’ll go light on you—nothing like the ‘fun’ dose for the usual crowd.”

Which is how he ends up back in the kitchen, this time making tea and humming to himself, before offering the final brewed concoction to Harrington.

Who downs it like a shot, because he’s a fucking frat-bro at heart. 

“I didn’t find a teacup for you to do that.” 

Between a full-body shudder and a dramatic grimace, Steve chokes out “Not gonna lie I didn’t think we owned a teacup.” 

“What, do you think I just have them in my van?”

“Honestly? Yeah.” 

Which is kind of hysterical, and something Eddie may be doing--not that he’s telling Harrington that. 

“And now we wait!” He announces instead of rambling about teacups, nearly clapping his hands together before he remembers the migraine Steve is soldiering through with surprising grit. 

Eddie himself would have turned into a whiny mess, so he can’t help but admire the guy’s restraint.

“Waiting to see if I hurl again, you mean?” Steve mutters, flopping backward onto the couch. “That tasted like battery acid.”

“Think it’s coming back up?”

“No clue.”

They sit in silence for a second, then Eddie pokes, “Maybe it’s best if you crash in your room, man. You look like death warmed over, and this couch sucks.” 

An understatement, if there ever was one. The fucking thing didn’t seem to be made for people to actually sit on. 

Reluctantly, Steve pulls himself up, heading toward his room. Eddie tags along, snarky grin covering the way he holds his hands out in case the jock ahead of him slips on the stairs and takes them both out. 

(Unlike Mayfield, Eddie does not pretend Steve doesn’t outclass him weight wise. The man was built like a brickhouse, and he has to fight to keep his eyes up toward Steve’s hair instead of on his ass.) 

Thankfully, he’s saved from all R-rated thoughts by the sheer horror of Harrington’s bedroom. 

“Harrington, I’ve found the source of all your migraines.” Eddie tells him, tone as serious as he’s ever been.

“Ha-ha.” Steve deadpans, stepping into his plaid fucking room. 

“I’m not kidding, I’m getting a headache and I’ve been here less than five seconds.” 

The whole place truly is a nightmare--like someone took one of those plaid hunting jackets and themed an entire room around it. 

Fucking rich people. 

“Trust me, it’s not the wallpaper.” 

“Given how you’re weaving on your feet, I think it’s safe to say I don’t trust you at all.” Eddie tells him, half helping half dragging Steve towards the bed. 

It’s a comfy looking thing and Harrington falls into it gratefully, immediately crawling under the covers. 

“You know where to find me?” Eddie asks him, refusing to think Harrington snuggling up in his bed is something cute. 

“Yeah?”

“Good. Hit me up next time your head gets bad. I’ll make sure to keep some of this,” He shakes the little baggie, “on hand.” 

Steve’s pulled the covers all the way up past his chin, but he moves it down a little to properly cock an eye at Eddie. 

“Dare I ask what you're gonna charge for that?”

“Let’s call it a fair trade for all those times you’ve driven the freshman home from Hellfire.” 

If Steve even recalls this conversation, that is. Eddie hadn’t exactly given him the “fun” kind of dose, but then, he himself has never tested out what dose is needed to cure headaches rather than simply having  fun destroying one's own ego. 

He supposes that’s something he and Harrington both will have to test, between them--because Eddie meant it when he offered the drugs for free.

No one deserves to suffer from the kind of migraine Harrington clearly had. 

“Think you’re good to drop off.” Eddie tells him, after making sure Steve is happily content in his bed. 

Checks his watch to make sure enough time has passed to safely call it, before beginning to attempt his way out of Steve’s god-awful bedroom. 

Which of course, is when Harrington reaches out, looping his fingers around Eddie’s wrist. 

It freezes him in place. 

In a moment that is so utterly selfish and stupid that Eddie will loudly insist it was a hallucination should Harrington ever dare ask about it, he turns his palm and moves so that he’s clasping Steve’s fingers with his own. 

“Thanks. For all this.” Steve whispers, as they hold hands for a moment. 

Eddie squeezes his fingers against the younger man’s before he moves to make his retreat, flashing a peace sign over his shoulder as he goes.  

“Anytime, big boy.” 

Anytime. 

xxx

The thing no one tells you about creating a doctrine, is that at some point or another, someone’s going to hold you to it. 

In Eddie’s case it’s four very pissed off teenagers.

He has a gold medal in mental gymnastics and a silver in denial. Left on his own devices he could easily excuse everything that happened yesterday. 

Reclassify the fallen King as pathetic, and the kids' weird loyalty to him as a holdover from his babysitting days. 

Blame their nosy-ness on them being involved in Harrington’s life, and happily go back to mocking their relationship with renewed vigor because now he’s not going to handwave their behavior as being afraid of Harrington. 

Nope, they clearly and willingly, have attached themselves to the King, which means Eddie gets to make fun of them for life. 

Pity they don’t leave Eddie to his own devices. 

In fact, the little shits hit him up first thing in the morning, early enough that he's’ a little suspicious that the boys slept over at Max’s trailer. 

“We’re not done talking about Steve.” Mayfield tells him and given the determined (Henderson) angry (Sinclair) and put out (Wheeler Jr.) faces glaring at him from over her shoulder, Eddie figures his chances for getting out of this conversation are slim to none.

“Good morning to you too.” He snarks, voice gravel-deep with sleep. “What do you little shits want?”

“I literally just said.” Max rolls her eyes so hard he thinks about commenting that they may stick back there, only to decide that makes him sound too much like a teacher for his liking. 

(Besides if they get stuck, he’ll have an excuse to whack her on the back of her head without getting murdered for it.

…well. 

An attempt at an excuse, anyway.) 

“And who says I have anything I want to talk about?” He fires back, leaning a shoulder against the old metal doorframe. 

Just because he understood what they wanted didn’t mean he was going to make it easy. 

“Would you just let us in?” 

“No.” 

“Eddie.” Dustin whines, and Eddie redirects his frown his way. “Come on.” 

“Well I suppose if you say it that way,” Eddie hums thoughtfully. “No.” 

“Steve’s sick, you asswipe.” Max snaps angrily. 

“I know,” He volleys back, brightly sarcastic. “I saw him yesterday.”

Because it’s Mayfield, she matches him tit for tat, a mimicry of his sarcastic drawl entering her voice. “Good! You get to see him today too.”

And just like that their little ambush makes sense.

(He’s got to find a new way to get the damn kids to fear him, clearly his usual menacingness  just isn’t cutting it anymore.) 

“And why would I do that?” 

He’s done his good deed. He helped Harrington out, and even offered free drugs to help him get his migraines under control. 

Checking up on the guy was overkill.  

“We were gonna do it, but someone let it slip that Steve was sick.” A cutting glance is given to Henderson, who makes a face but otherwise holds his ground. 

“And his mom called everyone else's parents with instructions that we leave him alone until he feels better.”  

“So now if we go over there,” Sinclair finishes for his girlfriend, “we get grounded.” 

Which neatly answers every question that just popped into Eddie’s head. 

The threat makes sense for the boys--Eddie’s met Claudia Henderson and though she has that bubbly, easy to confuse nature of suburbanites everywhere, there was an undercurrent in her eyes of someone who knew more than she was letting on. 

Or perhaps, someone who simply knew what they wanted, and was happy to settle and wait for it. 

 Likewise the Sinclair and Wheeler parental units seem to want to keep in her--and Steve’s, no doubt, given he carts their kids around--good graces. 

Given Mayfield’s mom wasn’t even home last night, her participation in this farce does not make sense and Eddie narrows his eyes at her in warning. 

“I fail to see how this is my problem.” He says instead of directly calling her out.

She knows he knows, and he’s smart enough to figure out how to relay that without saying it directly. 

(An action taken out of respect for surviving a bad home life, and absolutely not because he’s terrified she’ll crawl through his window to enact revenge in the middle of the night.) 

“It’s your problem because you owe him one.” she tells him firmly. “And us.”

Oh no he does not. 

“How so?” He challenges with a snorted laugh. 

“You did kind of storm into his house and yell a lot.” Sinclair points out. He’s doing better at speaking up, Eddie realizes with a twisted sense of pride and dread. 

Not quite so easy to steamroll after his outburst yesterday. 

A part of him hopes that sticks around--Sinclair needs a spine, and not just because Mayfield will keep running circles around him until he grows one. 

The rest of Eddie is pissed off that he decided to get one now, when it directly impacted Eddie’s Saturday morning sleeping plans.  

Leave it to these dickheads to use a good deed against him.

“Look--we can’t make sure he’s okay. You can.” Mayfield steps up to jam a painted fingernail in Eddie’s chest. “He won’t let us do anything that will actually help him. You, he can't stop.” 

He does not take a step backward and thus lose all the cool points he has left in the eyes of the younger Hellfire members, but only because he’s already leaned up against the doorframe. 

He bares his teeth at her in a silent snarl instead. 

“We made it worse.” She admits, voice sharp. “And I don’t know how to make it better, but you seem to be able to, so congrats Munson--you get to go again!” 

Which gets Eddie’s back right up. 

He pushes off the doorframe, ready to tell Mayfield--and all his little dipshits--right off, except this is when Wheeler Jr., of all people, decides to add in his two cents. 

“If you don’t go, no one else will.” He looks off to the side while he says it, arms crossed tight across his chest and spitting the words out like he's admitting to a crime. “Robin’s not coming back until Monday and Nancy's got some stupid thing, so you’re literally the only person who can go.” 

Well just stab him in the heart, why don’t you. 

“What are the chances of you fucking back off to whatever hole you crawled out of if I refuse?” He asks, already knowing that he’s done for.

Accepted his fate, because he knows what it’s like not to have someone to rely on, when you need them the most. 

“Zero.” Sinclair and Henderson chant as one. 

“Well then.” He tells them with the biggest, most put upon sigh he can manage. “Guess you got me in a box here.” 

Mayfield grins at him.

It reminds him vaguely of a shark. 

A bloodthirsty, slightly demonic, mean shark. 

“Good. Go get dressed.”

“Oh I’m doing this right now, am I?” He complains, but he’s already moving to go back into his trailer. 

“We’re not leaving until you do!” Mayfield yells at him.

Eddie slams the door in her face. 

(He’s never adopting freshmen again, as long as he fucking lives.)

[pickingupmymercedes]

Lewis Masterlist

Series/Multichapters

Longer than I care to admit p.1 / p.2 / p.3

“I have loved you for longer than I care to admit. I have not stopped loving you, even when I said I didn’t. Even when hating you was all I wanted.”

It comes with the territory p.1 / p.2 / p.3

“This… this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. But no love is worth losing my sanity over. Not even ours.”

An Invisible String Theory Story p.1 / p.2 / p.3

"I’ve always felt that string pulling me closer to something. But never, not even in my most beautiful dreams, had I imagined that it was to bind us together."

It was bound to come out p.1 / p.2

"Do I look like I'm joking? This is not a joke! My father has seen a video of us... the one video that couldn’t leave my phone!"

Not just a pretty face p.1 / p.2 / p.3 / bonus

"because even this… even this agonizing dance is better than not having you at all."

Maybe in another life - p.1 / p.2 / p.3

"A what-if that will forever linger in the quiet corners of my mind."

She’s here and she’s ours - p.1 / p.2 / p.3 / p.4 / p.5 / p.6 / p.7 / p.8

You couldn’t really tell if he was telling you or himself that. "How you feeling dad?" "Amazed, hopeful, scared... in love"

Get me out of here p.1 / p.2

“Why are you defending him?” “Because we need to think this through, babe. Toto’s not one of us anymore, you saw it.”

Your future was Ferrari - p.1 / p.2

Surely, it meant nothing for Lewis and you would probably never see him again. Your future was at Ferrari, somewhere he would never step foot in. Or would he?!

Specials (collection of drabbles)

Ways to say “I love you” p.1 / p.2 / p.3(NSFW)

All these little things p.1 / p.2

Small firsts p.1

Firsts - NSFW p.1 / p.2

Ways they show they love each other p.1 / p.2

One-Shots

Angst

It had to be enough - "I’m so fucking tired of fighting, of trying to prove that I still belong here." "I can’t keep watching you tear yourself apart like this. It’s killing me, Lewis."

Home is wherever you are - "You shouldn't have come" "Had to"

An impossible dream - "Don't you ever wonder what could have been?"

I didn't get scared. I'm always scared - “Do you even understand what it’s like for me? To love someone who lives every day like it might be their last?”

Not now, not ever - "You don't have to go through this alone, you know"

I'll come find you - “I’m scared… of how things have been, of how things are going to be.”

If these wings could fly - “I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything like Sunday. It’s been so long and everyone’s worked so hard for that”

And just like the sun, we will rise - “I can’t promise to have all the answers, but please let me in”

Fluffs

What it means - “Since I was five, since I first saw Ayrton race on TV. He was my absolute hero, and I didn’t know much about the world back then, didn’t know what I could be, but seeing him… it made me believe.

Lucky you're hot - The kind of kiss that would’ve been cute—if it weren’t for the fact that I was very much on camera, in a professional setting, with a dozen or so people watching.

A smile like that -"And he’s out there, posting photos like it’s some romantic movie."

A bit mushy - How Lewis and his wife do in a couple's Interview.

Happy you're home - "And trust me, he adores you. He just doesn't know how to express it."

Later it is - “But that safety pin right there is holding on for dear life.” “I only care about what you think.” “Flatterer.”

Of thorns and blooms - "It's meant to be worn by someone who sees the world differently, who tells stories with every thread"

He always rises - "Like I knew I'd given it my all, every lap, every strategy meeting. And finally, finally, it’s paying off. It feels… good. It feels so damn good."

R for Roscoe, C for Coco - "You went through all this trouble just for Father's Day with Roscoe?"

Boy from Stevenage - "you don't need to win over that entire room tonight. You just need to make that brave boy from Stevenage proud."

Whispered fairytale - "The point is in the surprise. The joy of meeting them, whoever they are, for the very first time."

A thousand times over - "Since I still don’t believe it’s true… would you marry me, again?"

It sounds silly - "I'm a grown woman who’s achieved success in life, yet… I find myself comparing to those other women."

NSFW (+18 only)

White Fireproof - “I’m only pointing out the obvious. The 2019 ones were iconic. These? Meh.” “I don’t remember much from that race. But those ten minutes? Burned into my memory forever.”

Can't check out -“Where’s the cutthroat guy who would have had me pinned to the wall by now?"

Utterly gone -“But for the record, I also owe you.”

Very First -“I want this. I want you. And I’m not saying that lightly.”

Salty -"Told you” she whispered, her thumb brushing against his bottom lip. "It’s salty."

Damn him -“I believe you’ve got two things that are mine” “My hair tie you took with you this morning. And you babe, you're mine.”

Give yourself some credit - “I’m gonna give you five minutes to mourn that shit qualy” “You think you can handle me, pretty girl?”

What those arms can do - "Let's focus on you for now, love. And what these arms can do to you."

Warm enough - "Did you know there were no doors in this place?" "I might have known. Thought it could be romantic"

It's not just a win - The 104 special - "I just...I needed this. I needed to win. To prove to myself that I still can."

Improvised Compensation - "My plans definitely involve you" he continued, "but they can be done anywhere"

As good as chocolate - "That's a new way to claim your share"

I'm yours, only yours - Vegas special - “You really thought she was any match for you?”

It always points South - “Your compass tattoo, huh?”

My Venus - MET special - "I can actually feel your eyes searing holes in my dress, Lewis."

I want South - "Hello, miss explorer”

You only need to ask - "Seems like someone's forgotten how we got here in the first place"

It's Mrs. Hamilton - “Mark me, show me who I belong to”

The things we do for fashion - "Like what you see?" "More than you'll ever know."

Show me you care - “I’m asking you to, show me how much you want this, because I know you do”

My mark - “I’m not one to leave things unfinished”

NSFW alphabet

Senna!Reader x Lewis Hamilton

Thank you for everything - "It doesn't matter how long it's been" "Grief doesn't have a deadline."

Under an Ipê tree - “He would’ve liked you I think… would’ve hated to race you, for sure."

Drabbles

Do not under any circumstance plagarize, edit, repurpose, or repost any of my original work. this includes all of my works.

copyright © 2024 pickingupmymercedes all right reserved.

[lassieposting]

I like to think that once things have settled down post-game, Tav will start addressing Astarion's critically low self-everything issues.

Like, this man's obnoxious, vain exterior is a paper-thin sheet of ice over a bottomless lake of insecurities and negative self-talk, and we see that the whole way through the game. He's been taught to believe that his only value is in his body. He'll bitterly call sex the only thing he's good for. He's shocked if you dump another companion for him, because he sees himself as having nothing to offer but baggage. He knows, in an abstract way, that he's attractive, but he doesn't remember what he looks like.

Perhaps one evening he asks what they see in him, and when they ask what he thinks their answer will be, he's stumped by the question.

And Tav decides it's past time to do something about that, because there is so much about him that is worthy of love.

Consider: Astarion rolling out of bed at like noon, padding naked to the bathroom to wash and style his hair, and catching sight of something tucked into the frame of the mirror. It's a sketch of him, one of Tav's, and beside it, they've scrawled the words you're beautiful. He grins, and traces the charcoal strokes with a fingertip while he brushes his teeth, because that's not a difficult one to believe, and he's touched.

But then he starts finding more little sketches, and more little notes. When he reaches for the book he's been reading, there's one tucked into the page he's dog-eared - a little caricature of himself, curled up in an armchair reading a giant book, captioned you're clever. He snorts a laugh, a little self-deprecating. Loathe as he is to admit it, he's no Gale, and he has brain fog more often than not. But...well, he did graduate law school and pass the bar once upon a time, so technically they're not wrong.

You're brave is resting on his pillow when he comes back from splashing his face in the bathroom one night, still trembling from a nightmare. His eyes well up when he spots it, and when he crawls into open arms and buries his face in Tav's clavicle he mumbles that he doesn't feel very brave at all. That's a hard one to accept, but they will keep telling him.

You care about me... is simply sitting on a dresser one day. Two little drawings with that one; in the first, he's bandaging a cartoonish bump on Tav's head. On the back, though...he recognises that image, Tav tied up and spitting rage at him through the night, lost to their Urges, as he kept watch. In smaller letters, his own words are reflected back at him: ...even when that's an objectively stupid thing to do.

You never gave up is in the medical kit kept under the bed, the one stocked with salves and oils for the bone-deep ache of two hundred years of consistent injuries. Tav will rub his shoulders for him if he asks, he knows that. But, well, two centuries of hiding any sign of weakness makes for a tough habit to break. He touches the reminder gently, as though it's fragile, and after a moment's hesitation, calls them in for help.

And on and on they go, dozens of little notes, a tangible list of things they love about him. Repeated, sometimes, some more than others, as and when he needs to be reminded of them. Often accompanied by little drawings that make him laugh or snort or cry - snapshots at how Tav sees him. His ridiculous bedhead. His unflattering blood-drunk expression, gawking into the middle distance, utterly lost in the sauce. The way his ears will sometimes twitch in his sleep. The Sexy Side-Lean pose he didn't realise he tends to do in doorways. His dramatic readings of appalling erotica.

And gradually, he begins to believe them.