#but i know i don't like eclairs

[cantspelldragoonwithoutgoon]

unearthed from the depths of the fc discord since tacky romance novel covers are making a comeback and i can't let this bandwagon go by ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝)

[captainsaltypear]

I know I always say that I'd fist fight markiplier if I were to ever meet him but let's be real if I met him irl and he knows that I'm the one who made the ask the invincible crew comics I'd cry and crumble to the floor

[soft-puppy-boyfriend]

Shout out to my brain for convincing me that I'm still missing something in regards to preparing myself to start my new job next Monday, despite the fact that I've read a million "prepare yourself for work" articles and listicles and I have either everything already prepared or at least a plan to prepare that thing this week.

Its like when you're going on holiday and your brain is like "well what if you shit yourself every single day?? What if you pee yourself every five minutes even though you've never struggled with that at home?" Except it's my brain going "hey what happens if they expect you to bring your own phone headset?" Like???? They explicitly DONT, they have TOLD ME WHAT THEY EXPECT OF ME, can we STOP WORRYING OH MY GOD!???

[hcguesstheauthormessageboard]

Writer’s Log 6-3-23

Éclairs are just chocolate hotdogs.

(Tell me your reaction)

.

[brainddeadd]

Accidentally calling your boyfriend "husband"

Quinn Hughes x fem!reader

Fluff

Wandering around Vancouver with Quinn, you both decide to duck into a café for something warm while the rain beats down on the ground outside.

He leads you over to the counter, eyes scouring the menu, but you already know what you're getting.

"Hi, could I please get one large hot chocolate for myself and a large cappuccino for my husband?" You don't even realise you've said it, but Quinn does. He turns to you, eyes wide, jaw falling open slightly, before his face softens and a smile creeps onto his features.

"Sure, anything else?" The girl behind the counter questions, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of you.

"Two chocolate eclairs for my wife and I, please." Quinn adds, and it's your turn to look at him wide-eyed. The cashier nods, and Quinn pays, leading you over to the table in the back of the café, his hands taking yours in his as you sit across from him.

"Wife?" You question, voice soft and shy, a blush coating your cheeks in a way that makes Quinn want to die.

"You started it," he mumbles. "Callin me husband as if my heart won't beat out of my chest."

"I didn't.." You trail off as you run through what you'd said at the counter, your blush intensifying as you realise that you did, in fact, call Quinn, your husband. "I'm sorry."

Quinns heart constrcts at how you sound, almost as if you feel guilty, like you've said something you shouldn't.

"What for?" His fingers tangle with yours. "It's going to be true one day."

Eyes darting to his, your jaw goes slack, and he chuckles slightly, fingers gently pressing your chin closed.

"I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you," he shrugs, as if he didn't just make a life changing, world altering declaration. "Besides, my family would kill me if I let you slip away."

[bunnys-kisses]

Hi bunny! I’m so sorry I didn’t know the request were closed, I think I sent this before 😣 but if they’re open now, can I order a spicy upside down cake with some eclairs and tea with Toto (with Horner reader) pls pls

the menu!

want to submit your own? hit up the menu! i'd love to accept your order! thank you for this lovely prompt anon! i love the inclusion of horner's daughter. wow! always a good trope! i hope i served you well!

spicy upside down cake ("let's play a game: don't get caught.") + eclairs ("the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut.") + tea (semi-public/public sex) served by toto wolff (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, semi-public sex, power dynamic, desk/office sex, clothed sex, slight daddy kink, getting caught

"how do i say this as nicely as possible." george said as he brought kimi around the mercedes paddock. his hands in his jean pockets as he looked around to see if anyone is in earshot, "every rumor from formula one is basically untrue. or partially untrue.., except for one."

the young driver's interest was piqued. was he finally getting all the gossip from the grid? he leaned in a little forward and waited for what his new teammate had to say.

"toto wolff has a secret girlfriend... and she's horner's daughter. basically everyone knows, but no one will admit it. especially not to horner himself. just be careful, she's quite the looker." then slapped the young driver on the back as they continued.

you could have had any man you desired. you had the looks, the money, there was a kindness to you that pulled people in. you weren't some spoiled princess, you had a heart of gold in a sea of people out for metaphorical blood. you drew people in, like the likes of toto wolff.

a gentleman old enough to be your father, but still made love to you like he was in his twenties. the scandal on the paddock, but with little reliable evidence your father often turned a blind eye to it. even though he noticed as you got older and hung around the paddock, the skirts you wore got shorter and shorter.

your poor father didn't want to be thinking about you with a man double your age and the unsavory things he had done to you. so for horner's sanity, his head was in the sand.

so it wouldn't be a bad thing if you ended up in toto's office for the weekend. with the older man picking you up and placing you on top of the sturdy desk. your thighs spread open for your lover.

"you look beautiful, schatzi." his voice was low and his broad hands pushed up your skirt. it was a flirty little number that turned a lot of heads. you didn't mind the attention because you only had eyes for toto, "so good for daddy."

you wrapped your arms around his neck and giggled, "which one?"

he made a face, "you are a dirty girl. if horner knew what you did to me almost every night, he'd be dead on the spot. his precious daughter fucking an older man."

you held onto his shoulders and beamed at him, "gotta fix my daddy issues somehow." then lifted your hips a little to let toto get your pretty purple panties off. they soon hung limp around your left ankle.

he pressed his nose against your neck and took in your scent. you were wearing the perfume that he bought for you. he knew prior to his relationship with you, you got a few eyes on you. but most knew in the paddock now, especially when toto and your father lingered like a shadow. a cute cub with the much bigger, much scarier polar bear behind her. you were soft smiles and thick thighs that squished together. but you wore the horner last name on paper and the wolff last name on a little anklet chain.

"oh you have daddy issues?" he mocked, "i would have never guessed. the family's precious little girl. under me like a slut." his lips found your neck and he trailed kisses onto it. during the break in the season he'll sink his teeth in. but for now, he'd have to be good and not mark up horner's daughter. (as much as it killed him).

regardless he was hard in his slacks and with your slick pussy on display for him. he wondered if you'd get his last name tattoos on your hip for only his eyes. but that seemed less permanent than just simply marrying you and changing your last name.

he ran a finger across your cheek before he said, "let's play a game: don't get caught." in reference to you not being so loud. poor thing had a habit of being loud even when you were in public.

you squirmed a little on the desk, your bare ass against it. you leaned back a little on your hands and said, "but how will everyone know you're fucking me so good?"

he chuckled a little, "they don't need to know." he kissed at your neck once more before he started to undo his belt, "i'd hate to gag you, my love."

you giggled but quickly covered your mouth with your hand as you tried to keep quiet. toto was in your space once more, your legs wrapped around his waist and he rubbed his cock up against your pussy before he sank in to the root.

he held onto your hips and pulled you closer to him. you took all over him as he started to move against you. your panties almost hit the floor as he took your hand away from your mouth and sealed your mouth with a kiss. the kisses were the loudest part between the two of you as the two of you moved together on the desk.

while toto usually liked to undress you piece by piece like a finely wrapped present. to him, being with you was like christmas every day. especially when he was fucking you. but at that moment, the two of you had to be quick.

he moved against you and kept his lips against yours. his thrusts were heavy as he battered against your sweet sex. you two had to be as quiet as you could get. his hands gripped onto your hips as he pressed his cock up against you.

he lips trailed down your neck as he fucked you, his breathing was heavy and his face slightly flushed. he could feel the thump of pleasure in the back of his head. oh, you felt amazing to him.

he understood why horner made sure to keep you out of the paddock once you became an adult. he held onto you tighter, his voice low as he said, "so beautiful. and all for me." he smiled at you as he moved against you. feeling your sweet cunt tighten around him.

his teeth carefully grazed your pulse and your back arched a little more. your pretty clothed breasts up against him. a sight to behold. even while clothed your body called to him.

the two of you were lost in the euphoria of your fucking, that you didn't hear the knock at the office door followed by the opening of said door.

"mister wolff, i-" kimi stopped in in his tracks and found his head principal and horner's daugther having sex on top of the desk. his eyes went wide. george was right, the rumours were true. he stepped back before he was out the door with it closed behind him.

toto wolff and planted both of his strong hands on either side of you, "i'm going to have to talk to him." his voice was heavy, but he had yet to take his cock out of you. if anything it felt like it had grown harder.

you took your lover by the face and kissed him, "not before you make me cum first." as you clenched your thighs around his waist.

he chuckled before he took your face and pulled you in for a kiss, "of course, schatzi." <3

[wraithdance]

The Five Year Plan | Gaz x Reader

Note: F!Reader but no gendered terms in this chapter, Fat/Plus sized Reader, Reader is implied to be Black but can be read as WoC, Readers nickname is 'Siggy', there will be no y/n use Content warning: terrible grasp of british-isms, parental angst, sick parent (cancer), some reader backstory for storytelling purposes, talks of pregnancy and readers womb, fatphobia from a parent, food mentions. (lmk if I need to tag something else for filtering!!)

Chapter Three: Don't tell mum

It is an ungodly hour of the morning and you have a sugar hangover and a canopy bed full of empty wrappers.

You’d spent the night crying and cursing stupid posh, blond men with trust funds and selective sperm practices. Which then led you to curse even stupider, infuriating wankers with pretty brown eyes and smooth burnished skin.

(Also the perky twits the two species have tea and procreate with, but you’re trying to do a better job of showing unwavering solidarity with other women. Despite the present fuckery at hand that is.)

A brief glance in the mirror of your vanity reflects the deep dark circles under your eyes and the evidence of your emergency chocolate eclairs on the bodice of your moo-moo. The silk lined linen had been no match for the wild disarray of your hair during the night. You looked quite frightening really. You don’t even need to glance at the framed Olivia Pope photo on your nightstand to know your fictional icon would be utterly disgusted at the state of you.

This would not do.

Sitting up from your pillow you point an accusing finger to the wobbling lipped wretch in the mirror and take a deep steadying breath for fortitude.

"Tits up, buttercup! There's no crying in show business!" you bellow at the watery reflection firmly.

The wretch in the mirror looks no more enthusiastic than before.

Mentally you shrug. Sure the motto is not as an effective motivator as it is with the raspy American accent of your chain smoking paternal aunt, but still. It's the thought that counts! With shoulders back and head high you're determined to expel angst from your body like water off a duck's arse. You force your mouth into a semblance of a smile that doesn't reach your eyes and tumble-scooch out of the nest of blankets in the middle of your bed. 

It was Saturday and you had an overbearing mother to visit (and subsequently lie to). If you didn’t get it together she’d smell the bitter notes of ‘Eau de Failure’ wafting over you like a shark scenting blood in the water. So with that in mind, you prepare for war with a nice candle and the motivating sounds of a beloved global hero. 

“Breakup, shmake-up! Alexa, be a dear and play Chaka Khan, we need this show back on the road. Pronto!”

An incoming text comes in briefly interrupting your improvised rendition of ‘I’m Every Woman’ while you perform (lounge) in the tub. With suds scarily close to your face you squint at the message from your father with one eye.

> Nurses called, mums in a mood.

You scowl. To be frank there’s not a time as of late where your mum wasn’t in a mood. Waving an arm in the air to dispel the bubbles covering your hand, you type out a text back.

< Gobsmacked, truly. Send rating for level of risk in engaging the matriarch, Skipper.

The reply comes in seconds. You can imagine your tech averse father having already expected the request and having a reply at the ready. 

> Threat level five, Captain.

You scrunch your nose and make a whine of irritation. 

Bugger. The scale only went up to six. 

With a sigh you send a simple ‘Roger that’ and sink lower into the bathtub. It was probably best to add more bubbles and break out the epsom salts. You were going to need all the relaxation you could get.

An hour later you’re dressed and slathered in body butter, glistening like a plump glazed ham. 

Outside your flat you’re shifting your bag around to find the knock off sunglasses somewhere traversing at the bottom when the sound of the door across the wall causes you to tense. Kyle stands in his doorway shuffling with a small plastic bag in hand and a sheepish smile. He’s blinking sleep from his eyes and scrunching his face as if the light filtering in the drab hallway disturbs him greatly. 

Your gut clenches seeing the serene yellow glow cascading across his brown skin. (It wasn’t fair that even the sun was a biased ninny and painted the bane of your existence out to be an ethereal creature.)

You give him a look up and down that you hope is less awestruck and all venom. It’s hard not to get distracted by the low hang of his gray sweatpants and the compression shirt that encompasses his broad chest. 

Sweet blueberries, the man dressed like a common whore. 

Sniffing you turn your nose up at him, shoving your sunglasses on your face when you finally reach them.

“Garrick.”

He smiles wider despite your dry tone. “Good morning, love.” 

“Were you just standing there at the door waiting for me?”

Kyle gives you a flat look in return with slightly less chipper-ness. He shifts his arms to rest in a cross, the bag swinging from the crook of his elbow like a metronome. His biceps bulge in a way that makes you want to clutch your pearls. 

(Or bite him. Hard.)

“I wasn’t waiting at the door.” He’s not quite mocking the cadence of your voice but you still wonder if you could get away with braining him with your overstuffed bag.

“I just happened to be nearby and I know you always leave around this time on Saturdays.”

You roll your eyes. 

“So you were waiting at the door then. You know Garrick stalking is illegal in the UK. I would hope you’d know that being military and such.”

Kyle narrows his eyes into slits. His nostrils flare as his once bright smile turns sardonic, gravely affronted.  

“Don’t know if you’re always such a charm in the mornings, love, but like I said, wasn't waiting around.” He clips. You are incensed at the degree of excitement that shoots through you at his rare snark. 

(You make a mental note to have one of the cute nurses at mum’s care center check you over for possible head trauma.)

“Besides,” He gives you a pointed look. “You would know something about illegal acts considering you’re the one who got banned from the resident’s meetings for nicking the snacks.”

The gasp of offense you let out is involuntary. Morning Kyle was not only scandalously dressed but also very rude!

“I did not steal anything, Garrick, they were complimentary for the residents!” You snark haughtily, pushing your sunglasses up your nose with a manicured finger. “I happen to be a resident you know and I gave my compliments when I took them.”

Kyle lets out a bark of laughter. The sleep layered tenor makes your toes curl in your sensible slippers. 

Bugger he was pretty. 

“Is there something you need from me?” you ask when his laugh trickles off into chuckles.

Kyle sobers and shoots you a sheepish glance. “Ah yeah actually. I wanted to give you these.” 

Kyle maneuvers the bag off his arm and extends it to you. With an abundance of caution you accept the offering like one would handle a ticking bomb and peek inside. 

An assortment of moon cakes greets you at the bottom of the plastic. 

You can smell the crisp outer shell and the sweet red bean filling of the pastry signifying their freshness. You do the mental math in your head and realize he’d had to have been up at the crack of dawn to get in line for them at the shops around the way. 

The treats sold out in minutes and you very rarely got the opportunity to get them on your own during the season as you were prone to sleeping in.  

“What’s this for?” 

“It’s an apology.” He gives your bewildered look a self deprecating grimace. “I don’t know what the other night was about but I wanted to apologize for hurting your feelings.”

Okay, no. Can’t have any of that now. 

You straighten up and put your hands on your hips. Kyle’s eyes follow your movements, staring for longer than polite. You clear your throat and he looks away when you give him an eyebrow raise in return. 

“Firstly, Garrick, you didn’t hurt my feelings, don't insult me. I was just taken aback.” pausing in consideration you peer over the rim of your glasses at the man. “What exactly did Madelyn tell you?”

Kyle shifts, one side of his mouth twitching upwards bringing your attention to the facial scar on his cheek.

“Nothing, actually. Just a lot of crying and mumbling about some Hugo. I honestly thought she was talking about a dog before I realized it was some chap she's seeing.”

You hum. Interesting, really.

You’d been sure he’d known more than he’d let on or at the very least that Madelyn would prove to be the unsavory sort to spill the beans on the sister wife shuffle you’d been unwittingly involved in. 

A glance at your watch shows you that you’ve spent too much time dawdling. No need to ruffle mum’s feathers further.

“Well, this has been lovely, Garrick, but I have to cut out. Places to go, people to see and such.” You shake the bag in your hand in emphasis, “Thanks for the goodies. it ‘s very... Sweet of you.” 

“You’re welcome, love.”

You’re glad you thought to wear your shades, the smile he gives you is infused with satisfaction and warmth. (He really should be much more careful where he aims those things he’s liable to blind someone.)

With a twirl of your wrist you give Kyle a halfhearted wave goodbye. He watches you until the lift closes.

What a strange duck.

You find your father at his usual haunt within the oncology unit of the extended care center. 

“Step away from the vending machine, Skipper. I come bearing tastier morsels.”

You smile at his wide eyed panic as he turns to you with shoulders to his ears. He curses low and pulls you into a bear hug, tight enough that a passing nurse shushes you for the squawk you let out. Your father’s miserably dramatic groan vibrates throughout your own chest and he lets out a puff of air.

“You’ve gotta announce yourself kid, I nearly shit myself.”

With a laugh you poke a finger into his rib causing him to jerk away from you. “It’s shat, do try to act like a proper Brit won’t you? Besides what's the fun in announcing myself when I can catch you red handed doing something you shouldn’t. Mum will be pissed you’re wasting money on vending machine biscuits ya’ know.”

Your father gives you a droll look when you snatch his change and shove it in your own pocket. 

(Someone has to pay the child tax after all.)

“Shit or shat, same difference and you would be the one responsible for cleaning me up, brat. And, I’ve been divorced from your mother for nearly a decade so I don’t care what she won’t like. I'm a grown ass man, I’m not afraid of her.”

Your eyes roll so far to the back of your head you swear you can see your medulla. He was so full of it.

“Yeah? So, if I told you not to tell mum something you’re not going to do that thing where you blurt it out the second she looks at you?”

He puts a hand over his heart in reply. “Of course I wouldn’t say anything. I’m a little offended right now, when have I ever run off at the mouth.”

You stomp your feet in irritation. He didn’t get to play clueless!

“Literally all the time. You’re the reason she sent me to that awful boarding school for nicking one of your cigarettes! I’m still scared of nuns you know- stop laughing!”

Your father continues to chuckle and pats your face. When you swat his hand away the look he gives you is unimpressed and flippant.

“In my defense, you were thirteen and had no business smoking in the first place, much less skipping class to do it. I had to put fear into you so you didn’t come out a delinquent.” 

“By telling mum?” You quirk a brow.

“Course, what’s scarier?” He gives you a smug look, linking his arms in yours. You both set a pace down the hall in the direction of your mothers room. 

“Besides, I wouldn’t be a father if I hadn't done whatever it took, you were very rebellious and snotty at the time. But still, it worked out didn’t it? Got a cool nickname out of it. Siggy, the chain smoking lawyer.”

You start to glare at him but the word father makes you wince and he catches it. “What’s the look?”

“So about being a father,” you slow to a stop just outside your mothers door. You give the nurse at reception a tight smile and try to come up with a way to say the thing. 

“Hugo got someone pregnant.” 

It takes the old man some time for it to click. You watch his mind whir putting together the things you didn’t say. Finally he levels you with a smirk much like a cat who drank the cream would wear.

“No shit? Didn’t think he had the cojones for that, you’d kept them in your purse long enough.”

The look you give him is unimpressed, he snickers. How dreadful, you were being parented by a child. 

“Yes well,” you look away “according to him I wasn’t mother material and he dumped me for the other woman.”

Your father hums “Tragic that. Didn’t like him very much so I can’t say I’ll miss him. He send you off with something?”

He motions his head at the plastic bag you fiddled with subconsciously. With a snort you hand it over, watching his eyes light ups when he digs through its contents.

“No, gift from my neighbor.” you wait until he’s taken a moon cake out of its individual wrapping before leveling him a glare. “Under no circumstances are you allowed to tell mum that Hugo and I broke up.”

Your father shrugs off your concern with a wave. “Yup got it. Won’t hear a peep out of me about it.” He takes a big bite that sends pastry flecks over his shirt and you roll your eyes.

Facing the door to the hospital room you roll your shoulders back and prepare yourself mentally.

The sound of a wrapper crinkly disturbs whatever inner peace you search for in the universe.

“Please Siggy, I served with guys in the Navy with less seriousness going into battle.” 

Good grief.

“Eat your sweets please.” You cluck, “I need to meditate before I walk in there.”

Your father ha-rumps in reply but thankfully keeps quiet. When you feel some semblance of self control you shoot a look behind you.

“Remember not a single word!”

Your mother is propped against mounds of pillows. She looks every bit like a queen holding court despite the tubing and wires running along her body. Her sallow skin is grayish in tint, far from the myriad of browns you remember from your youth. 

Yet her scowl remains sharp and dagger-like in nature.

“Oh, how nice of you to show up. I thought this was your way of telling me you want me to die alone.”

Your father shoots you a look as he finishes off the cake. Threat level five indeed.

You smile at her sheepishly which only makes her glare more.

“I got tied up with my neighbor, sorry mum. I’m here now though. What’s been going on?” 

Your mother says nothing instead choosing to follow you with her eyes as you make your way to the armchair beside her bed. When you’re seated she sucks her teeth and looks you up and down before gesturing at your still standing father with her head. 

“Why did you bring this traitorous shadow on my doorstep, eh? I already have a sickness, why must you make me suffer more?”

Your father rolls his eyes before gesturing a thumb over his shoulder.

“Alright… glad we had this talk. I’ll just run to the cafeteria.” Your father turns tail and leaves without waiting for a reply. Your mother gives you a look.

“Wisdom chases your father but unfortunately he is faster.”

“Please, that’s mean, mum.” You ignore her brush off, “He comes to visit with me every weekend even when he doesn’t have to, maybe you should give him a break.” 

Your mother is silent, choosing to disregard your scolding by facing away and watching the drama playing out on the telly. You allow the dismissal, watching along with her and sharing occasional comments on the plot. 

During an advertisement break she folds her hands into her lap and shifts to get a good look at you.

“Are you pregnant yet?”

You jerk back into the cushions of the chair, “No!”

She frowns. “Why not, you are getting old? 

And here we go.

“Mum,” you start carefully, “You say this every time you see me and I have to remind you once more that I’m not old. It’s actually pretty rude, you know, to suggest I need a baby because I’m aging.”

She huffs adjusting the nasal cannula. You look at the IV in her thin hand and the feeling of wrongness makes your body vibrate with anxiety. 

She shouldn’t be here.

You don’t get a chance to think about it anymore when she leans over the railing of her bed to stare deep into your eyes.

“What’s happened to that Humphrey fellow, what is he saying about your empty womb?”

For fucks sake!

“It’s Hugo and he’s got nothing to say about my womb because it’s not his bloody-” you refuse to amend the curse when she swats at you with the hand closest to you, “it’s not his bloody business mother, I’m not a breeding mare!” 

She narrows her eyes, jaw working as she contemplates your tense shoulders. “Where is he?” 

You recoil. For. Fucks. Sake!

You try to look casual while sitting back in the armchair, your unseeing glaze pretending to be interested in the period piece that now plays on the in-unit television.

“He’s around or whatever. Doing fiancé things and all that jazz. Super happy. Great guy, truly the best.”

Your mother lets out a sharp ‘Ha!’ She calls your full name in the tone. The ‘I have birthed you and I will end you’ like filicide is her right as a mother, tone. You sink low into the chair.

“What, mother?”

“You are lying, I can tell. Where is Harold and what happened to your engagement? If you’ve run off another man I will cut you from my will.”

You snort humorlessly.

“Like I said Hugo is fine where he is. Besides you don’t have a will, I know because I oversee your legal paperwork and you refuse to sit down and draft one with me.”

She mumbles something unintelligible about everyone speaking death onto her when your father walks into the room with a cup of coffee.

You see the second your mother sets up a plan of attack and your father does too in the way he freezes in fear like a doe in the path of a wolf. 

“Where is the child’s husband-”

“He broke up with her!" He blurts with wide, dodgy eyes, "Got some girl pregnant and ran off.” 

He returns your disgusted look with a shrug. “Sorry, Siggy got nervous.”

Seriously, the man needed some backbone! He’s not even married to her any more! You’re opening your mouth to lay into him when your mother launches her own attack on you both.

“Do not call my child that awful name, you discombobulated fool!” you mouth the word ‘discombobulated’, the woman was creative with her insults, you’ll give her that.

“And you!” she wags her finger in your direction with a stiff lip, “You should be ashamed of yourself for lying to your own ailing mother. Quickly, how did you manage to run this one off? I am dying to hear it.”

Primly you sit up, adjusting the hem of your shirt around your tummy. Your time in court was much less daunting, to be honest, but you’re a believer in faking it until you make it.

“Mumsy, I didn’t run anyone off, thank you very much. In my defense he was a cheating oaf and he is free to do what he wants, it's no skin off my back.”

She laughs haughtily and it makes you feel awful. 

“He wouldn’t have left if you gave him children!”

The dark desire to mention that giving a man a child hadn’t worked out in her favor when you catch your father’s look. He shakes his head, knowing you well enough to pluck the vicious thought from your mind.

You swallow back the biting retort in defeat.

“Mum please. Hugo said he didn’t want kids right away” you mentally add the ‘children with you’ with a frown, “I believed him when he said it and that’s not something I should be punished for.”  

Your mother sits back in bed, raising her hands in the air in defeat. 

“Everyone else in the family has a grandchild or three!” She cuts her eyes at you, “Why was I the one cursed with a child who buys ugly bags instead of raising babies.”

The pit in your stomach grows as tears prickle your eyes. “My bags aren’t ugly and its very mean of you to suggest that.” you whimper dejectedly.

Your father takes a step and puts his hand on your shoulder.

“I think that’s enough, we should be comforting our child not being insulting. You didn’t like the man anyways so what's the issue?” 

Your mother just tuts and closes her eyes like she couldn’t be arsed to have you both in sight a moment longer.

“He was also a fool.” She opens one eye to peek at you, “Your cousin is expecting again by the way.”

So that's what this was about, you snort.

“Yes well, terrible for you to compare me to my underage cousin when she’s barely a teenager with her second child on the way. You know as well as I do the family was in a kerfuffle about it the first time!”

Your father hums in agreement, voicing his support (a little late after having caused this mess, but still.)

“You should be proud to have a kid who has degrees, a great career -an admittedly shit flat,” He ignores your sound of objection “but otherwise really fabulous things going on. Say something nice, please.”

Your mother sniffs “I’m getting older and who knows if this sickness takes me to glory. The child obviously wants me to die without a grandbaby.”

Your sigh is deep and loud in the room. You know for a fact she's bringing up her cancer to twist the knife in deeper. Yet you heard from her yourself that the doctors crowed about the progress of her health.

“Mum please don’t keep saying stuff like that. It really hurts my feelings because you know I love you and I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” 

You watch your mother fight to not soften with your admission. She doesn't look directly at you, glancing more in your general direction. You place a hand over hers on top of the covers, squeezing her fingers tight. The dull shine of her wedding band catches the light of the side table lamp. 

She squeezes your hand back and lifts it out from under yours to pat your fingers. You know it's the only form of apology you’ll get from her. She does ruin it though, moments after.

“Your wrists are like sausage casings, have you gotten bigger?”

Yes well, that was your sign that it was time to go.

“Well lovely as always to see you mum,” you shift to a stand reaching for your bag at your feet and patting your father on the arm. “Think I’m going to pop out and consider my life choices and all.”

She tells you not to be cheeky when you kiss her cheek. She ignores your father’s goodbye  and continues on with watching her shows.

On the walk out front your father stops you from leaving. He lights up a cigarette, the cloying menthol aroma turning your stomach. 

(You never could pick one up again after that traumatizing moment in secondary school.)

Your father is quiet for some time, flicking the ash of his cigarette occasionally in deep thought. You don’t make an effort to break the silence, thinking of your own recollection of another successfully humiliating interaction with your mother. They’d been happening a lot more as of late and it was starting to wear a hole in your heart.

When you shuffle in place your father finally looks at you with a softened glint in his eye. He stumps out his ciggie and places a hand on your shoulder.

“You and your mother are just alike.”

Snorting, you look off to the darkening parking lot, settling your gaze on a flickering street lamp in the distance. You try to ignore the warbling view from behind the tears in your eyes.

“Wouldn’t let her hear that. I’m sure she’d pop her lid at the very suggestion.” You don’t mean to, but bitterness coats your tongue before you can stop yourself, “Poor, fat, pathetic Siggy mucking her perfect plans up as always.”

Your father shoots you a warning glance, not liking your tone or the self deprecation dripping from your mouth. Being under his steel gaze makes you feel childish but you refuse to show it, meeting his look head on.

Because like it or not it was the truth. Whether she said it outright she wasn’t satisfied with your person.

You’d grown up always being on the wrong end of your mothers ire. No matter how hard you tried otherwise. But there wasn’t an excellent mark you could get, a partner you could bring home, or even a diet you could go on. You were always just… lacking.

Your father sighs in the night.

“You’re just as hard headed as her, you know that? Just as quick to cut down an idea that doesn’t fit your vision.”

Catching the defeated slump of your shoulders he calls your name. When you don’t look at him he tucks a finger beneath your chin forcing you to meet his gaze. Love and sadness sit on his weathered skin like a cloak. 

“It’s not a bad thing, Captain. I know being all brass and bull dick helps you at that fancy ass firm of yours but it keeps you from smelling the roses from time to time.”

You wrinkle your nose at the crassness, not sure how to take being compared to bulls testicles. He continues on.

“You also got her flare for dramatics and her ambitious nature. It’s why you two have been butting heads since you could set up and talk.”

Whoa, not the case!

“She butts heads with me!” You cry out, “I don’t know what I could possibly be doing to trigger her but I’m exhausted figuring it out. I just want-“

The lump in your throat stops you and you take a shaky breath. 

“I just want her to be on my side for once? Instead of being worried about me embarrassing her in front of the family.”

He gives you a sad smile.

“She’s just scared. Been on the wrong end of the hyenas before, I think she tries to nag you into submission in hopes she can spare you half the pain.”

That you can’t help but give an unbelieving look to.

“Please she acts like the head hyena most days. It’s hard to believe she’s ever been judged the way she judges me.”

Your father hums humorlessly, wrapping an arm over your shoulder to smush you into his side.

“You’d be surprised. She’d gut me, then stuff me over the mantle for saying it, but I have it on good authority that she’s on thin ice with her side of the family as well.”

You sniffle past the tears on your lashes, blinking to peer at him. “Well don’t leave me in suspense, old man. What’s the story behind that?”

Your father chuffs and flicks the tip of your nose, you whine rubbing the sore spot left behind. 

“I got your old man alright, you little shit.” He laughs boisterously, “They’re pissed she dared marry me, an American. Then by doing me the honor of birthing you, the most loving, headstrong tornado of a child a man can ask for, despite their objections.”

The forehead kiss he plants on you brings more watery fluid to your eyes. You hide the emotion by frowning and pretending to wipe off imaginary residue from your forehead.

“I’m not following.” You snark flatly. It earns you a pinch.

“They’re pissed she went against them then had the nerve to agree to divorce me when it was all said and done. That’s on top of inconveniencing them by getting sick. Your mum’s been on the chopping block far longer than you’ve been and the pressure is getting to her.”

He lets out a long suffering sigh and you imagine he’s reliving the hard years that came about after the divorce. The constant yelling and coldness within your childhood home still sends ice down your spine. Your father notices the resulting shiver and rubs your arm to provide warmth into your limbs.

“Despite our differences, I know your mum is just worried you’ll face the same treatment she did when she went and ran off with me, the ‘no good American’ while on vacation.”

You sigh, still not really understanding. It was definitely unfortunate their treatment of your parents' marriage. You’d witnessed it in the slick remarks of your aunties and the other elders over the years. 

Your father had done what he could to shield you from figuring out his ostracism up until he’d asked your mother for a divorce. 

It wasn’t fair to either of them that the family was so caught up in outdated traditions to see your parents had loved each other once. But you couldn’t live like this and you say so.

“You said it yourself, you've been divorced for ages. It’s not fair that she puts so much pressure on me when I don’t give a damn about what they say. I’ve never amounted to anything they want and I refuse to exhaust myself trying to meet her expectations.”

Your father nods in agreement.

“That’s valid, Siggy. Ultimately I just want you to make your own path. I’ll talk to her about laying off, promise.” He cocks his head and squints at you. 

“What?” You give him a worried perusal.

“Are you still mad that I spilled the beans about the fiancé situation?”

You laugh, pinching him around the middle. “I’m still very upset actually. You sold me out so quickly, it’s like you didn’t even try!”

He shrugs shamelessly. “It was me or you. I had to put myself first in the end.”

You roll your eyes and enjoy the swaying hug he keeps you in. After some time he speaks, peering at you.

“Your little friend Blue is right, by the way, that Hugo man does look like a chihuahua.”

“Dad, please.” 

“I’m just saying, Captain, might have gotten lucky after all. wouldn’t want you to go off and birth a litter of pups with a french accent.”

Your resulting cackle echoes loudly into the night.

A/N lol sorry for taking forever for an update and all the parental angst lmao. If you can’t tell I suffer from mommy issues and I was avoiding writing this chapter. Excited, next part the good shit begins :’D

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[sincerely-sofie]

Many thanks for the tag @asimplearchivist! The post was getting a bit long, so I cleared the reblogs.

coffee or tea (hot chocolate for me!) | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold (brass) | pop or alternative (I just like what I like, haha!) | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees I macarons or eclairs l typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony (I'm scared of heights lol) | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris (Homebody) | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens I masquerade ball or cocktail party

some tags of my own: @oblonger, @aria-the-derg, @battyaalllday, @onlyhereforghosttrick, @billycorn, and @stingraywipe along with all you shy guys who would love to join in!

Thanks for the tag @steven-grants-world (we won't go into how giddy I get when I'm tagged in something!)

This or that…

coffee or tea (neither!) | early bird or night owl | chocolate or vanilla | spring or fall | silver or gold | pop or alternative | freckles or dimples | snakes or sharks | mountains or fields | thunder or lightning | egyptian mythology or greek mythology | ivory or scarlet | flute or lyre | opal or diamond | butterflies or honeybees I macarons or eclairs l typewritten or handwritten | secret garden or secret library | rooftop or balcony | spicy or mild | opera or ballet | london or paris | vincent van gogh or claude monet | denim or leather | potions or spells | ocean or desert | mermaids or sirens I masquerade ball or cocktail party

no pressure tags: @marieziffer, @jewelsrulz, @diplomaticprincess, @wrenwithapen, @witch-oftheflowers, @lunar-ghoulie, @coneygoil, and anyone else who wants to because I hate forgetting people! Do it!

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

To clarify,I don't believe in porn makes you evil and I don't believe in like fantasies are evil. I'm pulling this quote off Scarleteen "“If we aren’t both careful and creative we can get stuck in fantasies that don’t mature and politicize with us."" I'm also new to being about to vote, so I'm trying to be careful about what I consume and what stereotypes media perpetuate. Like I'm not moralizing about kink or anything, and my ask was how can I get aroused with media wo my kinks or wo media

hi anon, welcome back! I'm genuinely very glad to hear some follow up.

for anybody who doesn't stay vigorously up to date with all of my anons, this ask is a continuation of this one.

so I went and checked out the Scarleteen articles you mentioned in your first message, or at least I tried to. How to Approach Sexual Fantasies and Desire on Your Own Terms is here, and while I couldn't find anything with the exact title 50 Shades of Abuse, we do have 50 Shades of BS - How to Tell the Difference Between Kink and Abuse as well as 50 Shades Crappier: On Selling Abuse for Valentine's Day, both of which cover how the 50 Shades series isn't a great model of real, responsibly-practiced BDSM.

now, here's what I didn't see in any of these articles: an assertion that anybody needs to, as you've decided to do, avoid any work that depicts anything less than perfectly healthy sexual practices.

the closest we get to that is the quote by adrienne maree brown from How to Approach Sexual Fantasies, which you mention above. now, here's the thing: first of all, I actually disagree pretty substantially with brown's assertions that one's sexual fantasies need to "politicize." I know what my politics are; the fiction that I enjoy can't change that, because I don't have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair. I actually just talked about that earlier today in another ask.

(also, and this may be an unpopular opinion, but adrienne maree brown is kind of a dork who doesn't really say much of anything in Pleasure Activism that Audre Lorde didn't already say better and more succinctly, and I personally lost interest in Pleasure Activism pretty much the moment she casually dropped that she practices reiki healing because that's a pseudoscientific alternative medicine that doesn't do shit or fuck. but I digress.)

listen, I'm not trying to peer pressure or bully you into watching anything you don't want to watch. your porn consumption is up to you. but what you're doing here is absolutely moralizing, I think maybe because of an underlying assumption that media that involves sex is just, like, innately different than any other type of media, which is in itself an idea that stems from sex negativity!

I don't know, let's just try to play out a little thought exercise here. like, would you consider it reasonable if somebody told you that they've decided not to read or watch anything that depicts problematic behavior because they don't want to normalize it. like, first of all, they're never watching anything but Bluey again. except actually not even Bluey because I just remembered about Bluey in the genocide, which actually makes for a great illustration of how nonsensical and impossible it is to try to only engage with media that is 100% ideologically pure.

and again: that's fine! that's literally fine! it is 100% okay to watch or read or play things with morals that don't totally 100% align with yours. it's okay to enjoy them, even. it's a lot healthier than trying to avoid upsetting or incongruous things entirely, because that gives you the chance to actually think about it rather than trying to shut it out entirely! that article actually provides an entire list of questions you can run through with yourself to critically analyze the things you watch if you feel so inclined! that's a much better skill to practice than avoidance!

I get that when you're new to sex, as you said in the previous ask, this might seem daunting, but your brain isn't just a sponge that will uncritically soak up and adopt anything you expose it to. you very clearly have the ability to research, differentiate between fiction and real life, and form your own opinions! and it is absolutely fine if you want to just watch porn with your kinks!

like, listen, I see what the question is, and the easiest answer is just. do whatever gets you off.

[cantspelldragoonwithoutgoon]

Day 24

Winter

The realm of eternal ice

Snowfall and darkness

Descends upon the vales of time

[paleprincessturtle]

Could you write a Harvey x reader being in a secret relationship because she's Mike's younger sister? Maybe she works at the firm as a paralegal or just likes to swing by to annoy her older brother from time to time.

Hey! Thanks for the request anon. Hopefully, I can capture your vision in my writings.

Feel free to send more requests.

Enjoy!

Bagels

Pairing: Harvey Specter x Female Reader

If anyone is more important to Mike Ross than Rachel Zane, right now breathing on the face of the earth, it will be his sister. His baby sister. After the death of their parents, Mike always vowed to protect his sister. That was why Mike took it without hesitation when he got the chance to do an (almost) honest job with the firm. Mike admitted that maybe he got way too protective over her sister. She's 5 years younger than her, certainly an adult now. But in his eyes, she'll always be the little girl with teary eyes asking for their dead parents.

Unlike Mike, his sister wasn't gifted with a super brain. But she was gifted with super hands. She never took any culinary schools or any baking courses but she could bake anything and would taste heavenly. 6 months after his time at the firm, Mike could finally afford to help his sister build her own bakery. Conveniently, only around 15 minutes from the firm. Give or take.

When Jessica found out about Mike, his sister was the first person he confided in. They were pretty much sure that Mike would just be a cashier at her bakery. But when Jessica let it slide, his sister met with Jessica. Dressed as best as she could, she came to the office, asking for a Jessica Pearson. She wasn't there empty-handed, she brought with her a dozen eclairs and quiche. She didn't know whether Jessica was a sweet or a savory person, so she brought one for each possibility. Jessica wasn't necessarily happy when she saw her come into her office. But Jessica has seen tons of people, and she knew when one is genuine. So Jessica thanked her and upon tasting her baked goods, Jessica had an idea for her to take several of her products from her bakery every morning to the firm. Boy, was everyone happy when they saw fresh baked goods in the lounge.

That day was also the first time Harvey Specter laid eyes on Mike Ross' sister.

It was just like any other morning, Mike was sitting in his office when her sister came and threw a pebble to his head. "Bullseye!" she giggled and entered his office. Mike rubbed his forehead. "If I bleed, I'll sue you for violence." Mike leaned back in his chair as he observed his sister. "And I'll scream in the lobby that you're a..." she paused then took a deep breath, "FRAAAAUD!!!" Mike stood so fast from his chair about to catch his sister but she ran away and laughed.

She finally finished dropping everything in both lounges. But she made it a ritual to always drop some extras for everyone who know the truth about Mike. She dropped some in Jessica's office, Louis' office, now off to Donna, then Harvey's.

"Donna, you looked exceptionally gorgeous today. Is that a new dress?" she leaned over as she placed a small jar of pistachio cookies on her desk. Donna smirked and nodded towards Harvey's office, "he won't have any meeting for another hour. And Mike shouldn't be around too." She leaned even more forward to give Donna a kiss on the cheek. Donna also leaned forward to meet her halfway and let her kiss her cheek. She smiled and marched inside. "Sunshine," Harvey greeted her with a wide grin. He stood up from his chair and kissed her lips. "Hello, Mr. Handsome," she looked up at him as she admired his clean-shaven face. She turned her back and walked to take another small basket she brought with her. "Everyone got pistachio cookies today, but I made you bagels." Harvey's eyes got as big as the moon. "Aren't you the best. Now, I don't have to spend any lunch money."

Mike walked briskly towards Harvey's office with a stack of files. His findings were brilliant, he thought to himself. As he got closer to Harvey's office, he heard a muffled laugh. Not just any muffled laugh, his sister's muffled laugh. He glanced at Donna's desk and found it empty. So he invited himself in.

"Well, aren't you two cozy," Mike asked in a thick sarcastic tone. Harvey who was trying to take one of his signed basketballs back for Mike's sister stopped laughing and turned to see the intruder in his office. She also looked at where Harvey looking at. "Mike, catch!" she threw one of Harvey's PRECIOUS signed basketballs toward Mike. Mike dropped every file in his hands to catch the basketballs. Harvey smirked, while his sister almost exploded from laughing. What was on Mike's mind wasn't the now important files on the floor, which created a mess. But the fact that Harvey didn't even get mad when she touched one of his precious basketballs. Not only did she touch it, she threw it. Mike looked bewildered between the two important people in front of him right now. Ball still firmly in hands, he looked around. He saw no little jar filled with cookies. He found a little basket instead, filled with bagels and various spreads. Home-made spreads. Mike calmed himself as he walked and put the ball on its throne. "Bagels for Harvey? You know he likes bagels?" Mike pointedly looked at his sister, arms folded. "Who doesn't know what Harvey likes?" she tried to laugh it off. "Nice spending times with you guys, but not only you guys who have an empire to run, but so do I. Ciao!" She was about to go when Mike called out for her. "Sit," Mike ordered her. All these years being his sister, it was the first time she ever heard him using that tone on her. She obeyed. He observed the two of them. Harvey looked calm, much in contrast to his sister who looked like she was about to get busted for bringing a ton of cocaine. "You two are together?" Mike questioned. No one answered. "You two are together!" Mike gasped. "I thought she always brought you different things from her bakery because she ran out and had to give you leftovers. She always gave you your favorites. And you didn't get pissed at her touching your basketballs! Because you like her!" She was confused about what to do. Mike looked like he was about to lunge at Harvey but looked very much bamboozled. "Look," Harvey said as he walked past Mike to sit beside her. "We've been together, for the past 4 months." Another gasp from Mike. Harvey took her hand in his, waited for Mike's reaction. "Of all girls you could have.. It has to be my sister.." Mike said slowly. He looked at you, asked for an explanation. "He made me so happy, Mike. Really happy." Mike softened at his sister's response. When Mike looked at Harvey, he caught Harvey smiling down at his sister. It looked, genuine. As if he... "I'm not happy that you two kept it from me for months but I'm happy you two are happy, but," Mike stood in front of her and offered her his hand. "I need to talk to you," Mike said all serious. She nodded and squeezed Harvey's hand before she stood up. "And I have to talk to you after this," Mike said as he pointed his finger at Harvey. Harvey nodded, stood up, and patted Mike on the shoulder, before walking back to his desk. "Come," Mike rushed her outside. But before she left Harvey's office, she looked back at him and smiled. Harvey winked at her and she giggled. "DON'T WINK AT MY SISTER HARVEY!" Mike said without even looking as he rushed you out even more.

MASTERLIST

[chaoticace2005]

Hazbin Hotel characters as John Mulaney quotes part 4:

(Part 1 2 3)

Vaggie: I am very small and I have no money. So you can imagine the kind of stress that I am under.

Husk: I could never dress goth, and don't get me wrong; I'm unhappy. It's not that. It's just that if you're a goth person, every single day you have to put on like, new makeup, and nail polish, and Satan stars. Like I bet you part of the reason goths are so miserable is they wake up every morning and think, "Oh god, I gotta put all that shit back on. Why did I join?"

About Adam: He was kind of moving around the whole time, you know he was like: “Alright! I am too blessed to be stressed! Let’s do it. What are you allergic to? Besides work!”

About Vox: But sometimes he would be gay.

Alastor: I’ll take your advice friend I’ve never listened to before.

Angel: People always ask us… are you gonna have kids. And we say “No.” And then they go “never?! You’re never gonna have kids?” Look I don’t know never. 14 years ago I smoked cocaine before my college graduation. Now I’m scared to get a flu shot. People change.

Lucifer: They go, “No! In fact we’re gonna frame you for murder! And you’re gonna go to jail for 30 years!” And I go, “Why are you doing this to me?!”And they go, “Because we’re Delta Airlines, and life is a fucking nightmare.”

Niffty: And without looking up at me my dad just said, “You have the moral backbone of a chocolate eclair.”

[munson-blurbs]

Bug❤️ let me tell you that your idea meet-cute idea is absolutely great, and I was wondering if I can request one with Eddie?

My pronouns are she/her, I would describe myself as shy and quiet, very weird who lives in her own world most of the time (especially around people I don't know very well) but also very stubborn. I love to read Stephen King books, watch TV shows and then overanalyze them and every detail, I love working with colors but also going out to walk, especially at the parks where you can meet some cute ducks. I also really love dogs and cats too.

I would also say that it can be very difficult for me to make friends irl and not much into pda, but with the right person, everything become more easy.

Not sure if what I wrote is good and gave you all you needed, but anyway, thank you for this ❤️

You meet while reading at the park!

CW: I guess some spoilers for 'Salem's Lot, but that's pretty much it WC: 657 Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

There’s no better way to spend a springtime Saturday afternoon in Hawkins than reading by the pond. 

A cool breeze rippled the pages of your book. It wasn’t your first time reading ‘Salem’s Lot, and it probably won’t be your last. With each reread, you noticed different details about Ben Mears’ time hunting down the vampires that have taken over the small town. 

Easing back into the bench, you let Hawkins fade into the background and immersed yourself in the story. What would you do if an evil entity took over your home? Would you fight it off? Would you even recognize that it was, in fact, evil? Or would you be just as clueless as the fictional residents of Jerusalem’s Lot?

You barely had time to ponder your potential fate before a frantic voice cut into your thoughts. 

“Hey! Reginald, wait your turn!”

Your attention slid right to the man sitting cross-legged in front of the pond, a box of crackers in his lap. Three ducklings surrounded him, one shoving himself in front of the others to get the first nibble. 

The man shook his long curls out of his face. “Seriously, dude, you’re being a dick.” He crumbled a cracker in his palm and held it out to the other two ducklings. “Now you’re gonna go last. How do you like that?”

You giggled, and it must’ve been louder than you’d intended, because the guy whipped his head around for a moment to look at you. He was…beautiful. You lost yourself in his eyes for a moment, then in the smile that appeared at the sound of your laughter. 

A third beak pecked at his palm, bringing him back to the task at hand, and he groaned. “Dammit, Reginald!” Resigned, he crumbled up another cracker and let the ducklings eat it. 

Placing a bookmark between the pages, you timidly made your way over to the patch of grass where he sat. “Did you just call that duckling Reginald?” You asked, not hiding the amusement in your tone. 

The man nodded. “Mhm. Named him that myself,” he said proudly. 

“Why ‘Reginald’?”

“Because,” he grinned, “he has that little mark on his neck that looks like a bowtie. Very distinguished. So he needed a name to match.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth to avoid bursting into laughter. “I see,” you managed. “Do the others have names, too?”

“Of course!” He almost sounded offended, like you were inferring some kind of neglect on his part. “The smaller one is Eclair, because she tried to steal an eclair from me the first time we met. And the bigger one is Cujo.”

Your eyes widened and lit up. “Like from the Stephen King book?”

“The one and only.” He grinned proudly. “Though this guy is more of a gentle giant than a rabid, carnivorous monster.” He cocked his head to the side. “And what about you?”

“Hm?”

“Your name. Mine’s Eddie, by the way.”

You introduced yourself, feeling your heart flutter when he repeated your name back to you. It sounded perfect when he said it. Gesturing to the box of crackers, you asked, “can I feed them one?”

“Absolutely.” Eddie narrowed his eyes pensively. “Just don’t fall for any of Reginald’s bullshit. If you do, he’ll walk all over you. Trust me.”

There was an electric spark when your fingertips brushed his as he handed you a cracker. Did he feel that, too?

Meanwhile, Reginald quacked his frustration that you hadn’t yet offered him anything to eat. 

Eddie nudged the overzealous baby bird out of the way. “Hey, you need to be respectful of the cute girl.” He shook his head in mock frustration. “I’m sorry. We’re still working on our manners.”

“I see.” You watched as Eddie corralled the ducklings as best as he could. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

With a shy smile, he watched you feed the crumbs to the ducklings. 

“We’re happy, too.”

--

[idkwhatimdoinghere1655]

❤️Valentine - Charles Leclerc

 'It don't matter be combative or be sweet cherry pie, it don't matter just as long as I get all you tonight'

<word count - 1317>

Valentines day. The one day a year that all couples were supposed to get along, and act like they were totally, unbelievably, undeniably in love. Throwing around the balloons, teddy bears and the chocolate eclairs around like they meant nothing, because they didn't. 

What really meant something was the real love. The real love that proper couples shared on a day to day basis. That was why Valentines day wasn't really for you and Charles. You loved each other whether it was the 14th of February or not. 

You didn't need one specified day a year to love each other with your heart and soul. Therefore, neither of you were really a fan of Valentines. You both felt it was a cheap shot at what love was supposed to be. It wasn't all chocolates and roses, it wasn't all hearts and cupid's arrows. 

But just because it wasn't that, didn't mean it wasn't a wonderful thing that was meant to be cherished. You didn't need cards with acrostic poems or sonnets to know that you loved each other, so you never really bothered with Valentines. 

This year, though, you had suggested that the two of you go out for dinner. It wasn't for any special reason, you just wanted to since you hadn't been out for dinner together in a little while. Plus, restaurants tended to be a lot nicer on Valentines Day, so it was an added incentive. 

Charles had agreed without a second thought, thinking it would be nine to go out for dinner with you. To be honest, he didn't really care where you were, as long as he got to spend time with you. He could take you out, or you could kill some time, stay home. 

As long as you were together, he didn't care in the slightest. You had just finished putting your heels on, ready to go for your dinner reservation at seven. Both of you had agreed to get all dressed up, just for the novelty of it. 

"Ready to go?" you asked, walking out of your bedroom as you shrugged your coat onto your shoulders. As per usual, Charles was looking handsome as ever in his suit, a single red rose in his hand. "That for me or your side chick?" you laughed. 

"Only for you, mon amour. Although, it was a tough choice," he quipped back, tucking the rose behind your ear. "And you look absolutely breathtaking," he complimented, looking you up and down. Of course, he always thought you were the prettiest thing to ever set foot on the earth, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't like it when you put in some extra effort. 

Looking at you, dinner wasn't looking so appealing right now. He wanted to skip straight to the dessert. 

"And you're looking rather dapper, my love," you smiled, tugging him in by his lapels for a quick kiss before starting to walk towards your front door. That was enough for him to definitely rule going to dinner as an option for tonight. 

There were others on the table, well, you were the only option on the table. It didn't have to be a table, it could've been anywhere in the house, but that wasn't the point. He wanted you, and he wanted you now. "You coming?" you asked, turning to look at him as he was rooted to the spot. 

Within a split second, he has rushed up to you and pinned you against the door with his body. "No, I don't think I want to," he smirked, crashing his lips down onto yours. It was easy to feel how much he wanted to keep you at home, but you still wanted to go to dinner. 

"Charles, hey, come on," you said, pulling away from the kiss. The devilish smirk that was dancing on his lips told you that you were in for it, but that had never necessarily been a bad thing. 

"What?" he said innocently, as if he were completely oblivious as to where you were supposed to be going. 

"Love, I want dinner, I'm hungry," you told him, batting your eyelashes at him. 

"Why would I need dinner when I've got a twelve course banquet standing right in front of me?" he asked as if it were a serious question. He couldn't resist kissing you again, pushing your body harder against the door with his own. 

"Please, mon amour," he whined with a pout, staring deep into your eyes. They could make you melt into a puddle of nothing on the floor with a single glance, and he was very hard to resist. He'd normally do whatever you asked of him, and the same went for you, but not tonight. 

"Darling come on, let's go," you dismissed, pushing him away with a gentle nudge, before slipping out of the door. 

"Do I have to get on me knees and beg you to forget about dinner? Because I will," he said, leaning against the doorframe as you walked down the corridor of your apartment complex. His statement had taken you off guard, if you were being honest. 

"Don't do that, let's go," you repeated, looking at him with your arms crossed in defiance. 

"I know that face. You want to cave in, but you're just doing this to prove a point. You don't have to prove anything to me, my love. Now, come back here and let me show you how much I love you," he stated, extending his hand out to you. 

For a moment, you just looked at him. You hated how well he knew you, but it also made you squirm slightly. He knew he'd get you at some point in the night, but he was growing more and more impatient as the time went by. 

"How much you love me, huh?" you said with a cocky smirk, trying to hide your crumbling resolve. 

"Yeah, get your ass over here and I'll show you," he reiterated with a charming wink. 

You took one small step towards him, and that was enough for him to grab your arm and tug you back into the apartment. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it? You can be a good girl when you want to," he snickered.

"Charles, really?" you groaned, trying to bite back an embarrassed giggle as your cheeks turned red. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he could before slowly walking you through the apartment and towards your bedroom. 

"What, mon amour?" he grinned, softly kissing you. He loved how easy it was to make you blush, and it was honestly his favourite pastime. You were nearly red as the rose tucked behind your ear as you spoke.

"You're a dick sometimes," you rolled your eyes at him.

"But you love me," he stated, since it was a fact. Yes, you loved him, even when he tried to push your buttons. If anything, that made you love him more. 

"It's a good job I do," you confirmed as your back came into contact with your bedroom door. 

"And I fall more in love every day, my Valentine," he said, taking one hand off you to open the door and gently nudge you inside. "Now how about less talking and more showing?" he asked, but the question was fully rhetorical. 

Closing the door behind him, Charles pushed you down onto the bed and loomed over you. "More showing sounds like a great idea," you agreed, pulling him in by his lapels again to kiss him.   

"Good girl," he praised, before getting lost in the kiss. Valentines was all about expressing your love, and the two of you certainly didn't need dinner for that. Not when you had each other. 

A/N - Happy valentines day my loves! Whether you're spending today with a special someone or not, I hope you've had a wonderful day and love you loads! I'm sat here, with a nice glass of rhubarb and raspberry tonic, enjoying a cozy night in with a box of chocolates my dad bought for me, what about you?

This is based off of Valentine by 5SOS, and it's such a bop. Keep a look out for Lando's Valentines Special, which is all done and ready to go in an hour or two!

|masterlist|

[thekatebridgerton]

More humorous takes about the Bridgerton brothers that make me laugh is that I cannot stress enough, how much I love their 'unhinged for wife' energy. Because it's just so funny

Anthony, like, you can see it, he's not even trying to hide it, he can and will be a meanie to his nemesis Kate who he also happens to love more than life itself, and to everyone if they don't fall in line. that's his whole mojo. People meet him and know at first glance that Anthony Bridgerton will not hesitate to use a gun if the occasion calls for it, because he outright intimidates people into submission. So good luck trying to mess with him or with his wife. He will end you. Have you seen him play against his wife in Pall Mall. He loves her, but he will not lose to this woman! She will one day respect him!. He's the boss of the house dammit (he's not, it's Kate, but she lets him think he is)

Colin is my favorite. because he looks nice and he looks friendly, and he would totally sink to the deepest of the low to have Penelope the moment he kissed her. This man is absolutely as unhinged as Anthony possibly more so, and he hides it so well, that everyone thinks he's the most charming brother. In fact the only person who knows how crazy Colin really is, has to be Penelope. Colin can talk his way out of anything (even a murder sentence. Do you ever wonder why nobody has ever sued Penelope for defamation? Because I sure don't), he's a people person. It's maddening, I want to convince people that Colin is the worst of the worst, and people are still like 'but he looks like such a harmless guy, just look at him eat that eclair' yeah! I know! that's how he got to Penelope! he was all cute, pretending to be nice and by the time she discovered he was the devil in disguise, he already had blackmail material on her!!. Men like Colin scare me, because I know he's bats*t but I just can't prove it.

Benedict and Gregory are just the same version of unhinged, just in a different font. Because they actually believed themselves to be the sane ones and then they met their true loves and you see that sanity? it went out the window.

Benedict used to think he was such a gentleman, who respected ladies and would never dishonor one, and guess what kind of obsessive idiot he turned into the moment Sophie said 'no' to his seduction tactics, be my mistress this, be my mistress that, Sophie ( and I) just knows Benedict's thought process alone should be landing him in jail instead of her, but he gets away with it, because apparently annoying her to death doesn't actually count as a crime. And the thing is, that she's the only one who triggers the crazy in Benedict, he's perfectly sane with everyone else, but it's her and only her who has him going all naked swimming in the lake, and obsessive paintings of her face plastered on all his sketchbooks (and his home, actually I'm pretty sure Benedict has a secret Lady in Silver shrine somewhere in My Cottage, that he took down before Sophie could find out about it) , not to mention his whole 'F society if I can't f Sophie' love at first sight excuse that somehow everyone swallows without questioning how crazy Benedict actually is.

And then he had to go teach that to Gregory! And Gregory was such a sweetheart, I actually thought he was going to make it to half of his book without going unhinged and then Lucy tells him the name of her fiancee and he goes ' wait, I know the guy, he's super gay, I can't let you marry him... ' my brother in the force what is your problem! Leave the girl alone. She's your friend, stop stalking her, she's got her own problems to deal with!! Lucy did nothing to deserve how Gregory randomly went from nice guy she was super supportive of in the courtship of her best friend, to kinda obsessive dude who won't leave her alone and wants to ruin her arranged marriage (let's ignore that said arranged marriage needed to be ruined and it might as well be by him). Guy was a green flag for Hermione but the moment he began fixating on Lucy, homegirl kinda saw the light and was like ' he's crazy, yup, totally mad.. about me sure, but this guy... He's never been told no in his life and it shows, it shows for miles'

And I just laugh so hard because people look at Anthony's fed up face and somehow think that he's the worst to fear in in the Bridgerton family. But nobody knows just how crazy his brothers are, except their wives. At this point Anthony's resting B face has to be some sort of defense mechanism because he had to grow up with Benedict and Colin while trying to raise Gregory. He may look intimidating but he's actually a reasonable man if you think about it. But his brothers, those three are just hiding their unhinged for wife energy a lot better. And you just don't want to know what kinda chaotic crazy thing they're capable of doing if they think it would impress Penelope, Sophie and Lucy

And that's the tea.

[bvtbxtch]

White Knuckles and Red Hearts | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

a cute little (I don't know what this work means, the fic is 3.9k words) oneshot for valentines day <3 IT STILL COUNTS BECAUSE ITS FEBRUARY

You had been paired together in Home Ec. You were making eclairs. Everyone else in your class sneered at him, hoping - praying - that they wouldn’t have to be in the same workspace as the freak of Hawkins High. Sure, you didn’t jump for joy when you met him in your designated kitchen space, but you gave him a warm smile and introduced yourself. From that moment on, your name rang through his mind like church bells. His hands shook when the two of you measured ingredients, but you quickly put him at ease with your effortless friendliness.

“So, eclairs huh… have you ever made them before?” You smiled over the metal bowl filled with various dry ingredients. 

“Ahh, can’t say I’ve had the pleasure. Don’t find a lot of fancy baking in the trailer park. But I did spend about 10 minutes in a French class before I was kicked out so I do know that it’s french.” Eddie jousted back with a dry laugh. 

“That’s where I knew you from! Your face looked so familiar to me!” You giggled. Eddie’s cheeks bloomed a glowing red. Your smile grew and you peeled your eyes away from him to form your choux. 

“You know, in French eclair means flash.” You babbled. Eddie could see your cheeks were turning a darker pink than the rouge already donning your apples. Eddie wanted to listen to you talk forever. “They say it’s because the glaze on the top of them… or because people eat them so quickly, they’re gone in a flash!” You both looked up and locked eyes. You suddenly felt shy. Stupid under the glow of the big brown doe eyes peering down at you. How the hell did anyone think that this person in front of you was a freak, was dangerous, wasn’t worth friends?

“Sorry, I’m babbling now.” You turned away to begin whipping cream while Eddie had begun to boil water.

“No, no! Babble away! You have interesting stories.” Eddie praised. 

The rest of the afternoon flew by as the two of you laughed, stole spoonfuls of chocolate, and filled your delicate pastries with sweet cream. The bell dismissing the students from their last period of the day startled the two of you out of your dream world. You handed Eddie the last bowl that needed to be put away and wiped your wet hands on your jeans. 

“Well, thanks for being a great home ec partner, Eddie. If we get to pick our people next time, we should work together again.” You smiled and squeezed his shoulder as you breezed past him to grab your backpack. You flashed him another smile and waved at the door. Eddie felt his knees buckle. You were beautiful; Eddie had noticed you at the beginning of the semester, in awe of how simple and easy you made beauty look. You weren’t popular by any means, but as a member of the drama club, you had a great group of friends. Eddie couldn’t imagine why you would want anything to do with him.

DnD wasn’t the same; Eddie’s mind was not fully immersed in the world he had created. Usually charismatic and intense, he was tripping on words, forgetting important details he had set up last session. His mind was transfixed on you. God, he felt pathetic. You were the first girl that wasn’t in Hellfire or wasn’t trying to get free weed from him to be nice to you. Was that all this was? Was he that pathetic that he was going to fall in love with any girl who was nice to him? Surely not. You were different. Not every girl had glowing eyes like you did; nor did they have such a friendly smile, and the slightest dusting of freckles across their cheeks like yours. They didn’t genuinely laugh at his jokes or touched his arm like you did. You weren’t petty or rude or hung out with him as a joke or-

“Dude!” A squeaky voice rang out, interrupting his daydreams of your interactions. “I rolled a 16 does that hit or not?!” Dustin Henderson was not a patient person on a normal day, but now, the third time he had to snap Eddie out of whatever coma he was in, he was rapidly growing angrier by the second.

“Uh- yeah.. How many hit points does it take?” Eddie mumbled. 

Within 25 minutes, the whole Hellfire party had surrendered to their DM, ending the session 40 minutes before their scheduled end. With a frustrated huff, the gaggle of high schoolers exited the stuffy prop room and into the dim hallways. 

February rain was not uncommon in Hawkins. It had caught you off guard though. In typical midwest fashion, the morning had started out mild and sunny. Now, at 5:45 when you were attempting to flee the grip of Hawkins High and make the 10 minute walk to the comfort of your own home, you were met with sleet and rain. You paused at the thick glass doors keeping you warm and dry and let out a long sigh that clouded the vision in front of you. You shrugged your shoulders and pushed through the doors into the cold, wet parking lot. You were kept warm by the thought of seeing an outlandish metalhead in the morning. You had to admit, you had been scared by Eddie Munson. His hard shell deterred many people away, but when you were given the opportunity to get to know him today, you penetrated right through to his soft center. You had to stay after school to direct for the one act festival next month, but like Eddie, your mind was transfixed on your home ec partner. You replayed your conversations in your head as you headed to the main street that dissected the community of little houses and the high school field. You shivered into your jean jacket, cursing the fact that your fashion choices weren’t practical at all for a rainstorm in February. Your eyes stayed glued to the pavement in fear that your face would freeze solid if you looked against the wind. Your hair stuck to the sides of your cheeks. You moved your legs as fast as they would carry you.

Eddie jogged out to his van, now covered in frosted rain drops. The short jaunt already had made his hair heavy with moisture and left a shiver in his spine. His engine lazily sputtered to life and he tore out of the school’s parking lot. He couldn’t wait to get home to pick up his guitar and write you forbidden love songs you would never hear. His headlights pelted through the thick, icy rain. God it was miserable. As he rounded the corner of yet another sleepy avenue, he slowed his van and pulled to the side of the road. He rubbed his eyes in disbelief as he stared at your hunched over figure fighting through the storm (and very obviously losing). He pulled his rusted van over to the sidewalk just ahead of where you were trudging. You stopped and squinted towards the rusty Chevrolet Astro and the curly haired driver that was looking at you with his beautiful, yet worried, eyes. You could see Eddie’s tongue poke out of his mouth as he reached over to the passenger side of his van to unlatch the door. 

“Hey, Y/N! Are you okay?” The boy had to yell to be heard over the pelting rain and the rattle of his exhaust pipe. “Do you need a lift?”

Your heartbeat quickened and your cheeks grew warm. You smiled at him sweetly. “It’s okay, Eddie. It's only a few more blocks to my house.”

“Are you sure? It’s terrible outside. I really don’t mind!” You paused in contemplation. Did you know Eddie well enough to get into his van? Most of your friends would say no, but you felt like you’d known him for a long time. You felt safe around him. So you shrugged your shoulders and hopped into his van with a small ‘thank you’ leaving your lips. A sudden wave of bashfulness hit you after you gave Eddie approximate direction to your house. 

“I-I usually just walk, you know? It was so nice this morning, but…” you ended in a curt giggle, and you couldn’t help but shake your head in embarrassment. It made Eddie’s dimples sprout on each of his cheeks, like you had seen for the first time this afternoon. 

“Well a pretty girl like you shouldn’t be walking at all! Let alone in weather like this!” Fuck. His lips moved before his brain could catch up and stop him. His eyes grew double in size and it was his turn for his cheeks to turn a bold red. “Sorry I didn’t mean- I mean-”

“It's okay Eddie.” You turned your head away from him to stifle your grin. “I appreciate the ride”

It felt like no time before Eddie pulled up to your house.

“Thank you again, so much for the ride. That was so sweet of you.” That damned shoulder touch again. The warmth from the hand around his jean jacketed shoulder sent molten lava straight to his heart. 

“Hey,” he choked. He ravaged his cluttered console for an old napkin and a sharpie. He hastily scribbled his digits on the napkin and shoved it towards you, eyes glued to his knees. 

“Here, take this, just in case you get caught in this shit weather again.” He didn’t feel your fingers take the paper. He peered up at you, cheeks bright red and brown eyes bright with rejection already. “You know, I just-I don’t mind driving you, you know? It’s strictly just-” He was interrupted by your soft hand around his wrist.

“Eddie” you cooed as you took the wrinkled paper from his hand. “You are the sweetest. Of course I’ll take it. I really appreciate it.” Your eyes locked with him and you felt electricity surge from him to you. You released your grip with a blush and backed away from his van.

“Maybe I can call you about some home ec homework too?” Eddie thought his chest was going to burst out of his chest. 

“Y-yeah, doll. That would be great.”

He watched to make sure you got into your house, and left only when you flashed him a smile and wave from your door. He drove home smitten, still smelling your perfume, feeling your warmth from the empty seat beside him. Blissful giggles escaped his lips. 

-

The shrill ring of the telephone startled Eddie out of his daze and brushed through the cloud in his room to the hallway. He picked up the phone and answered with a lazy ‘hey’. His throat closed when he heard your voice peep on the other end of the line. \

“Hey, Eddie. I-is this a bad time?” Yes. Eddie thought. He was just starting to feel his buzz, now he felt like he was going to have a heart attack.

“No! No not at all! What’s up, Y/N?” His baritone voice went straight to the butterflies in your stomach. You took a deep breath to ground yourself. You could hardly believe what he was doing to you. Yesterday, Eddie was a stranger to you, someone that was interesting to look at, but you hadn’t dared interact with him - he was too cool for you. 

“I-I’m so sorry to ask this… but I think I left my history textbook in your van from this afternoon. I am so sorry but is there any way I can come pick it up or you could-”

“Oh! Yeah I will bring it to you, no problem!” Eddie choked. Your stomach sank in excitement.

“Oh, great, thank you so much!”

“I’ll be there in 10” Eddie hung up the phone before you could let out another apologetic thank you. You bit at your nails in selfish excitement. 

Eddie raced through the darkening streets of Hawkins. He remembered where you lived like the back of his hand: past the school three blocks, to the left, then take a right and you were almost at the end of the street. Luckily the storm  His headlights pulled up to the sidewalk in front of your house, like he did earlier that afternoon. To his surprise, he saw the upstairs window on the second floor illuminated with your excited figure. You sheepishly slid the window open and crawled through it and shimmied down the ivied siding. You trotted up to Eddie’s unrolled passenger window. 

“Hey, Eddie. Thank you so much!”

“No problem. Front door broken?” Eddie chuckled. 

“Nah, strict parents make for sneaky kids.” You wagged your eyebrows at him. You boldly opened his passenger door and snaked into the seat. Eddie’s cheeks grew warm with yours as your bodies were now closer (but not as close as you both craved). He sheepishly handed you your textbook, which you pulled to your chest.

“Thanks, Eddie.” you peeped. A sudden burst of courage hit you, and although your hands felt numb, you took a breath and let the words escape your mouth. “I need to tell you, I don’t think that you’re crazy and weird like people say.” You dared to look into his soft, dark eyes. “I think you’re really sweet, and funny. And it really sucks that Hawkins is too small minded to see how great you are.” You leaned over and gave him a sweet peck on the cheek before hopping out of the passenger seat. Eddie wanted to pull you back to him, to grab your face and press his lips to yours; but he was frozen in shock. He would have never imagined you ever wanting to talk to him again, let alone thinking he was a good guy AND pressing your perfect pout to his cheek?

“Thank you again, Eddie, for driving all the way over here. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

He mustered up the strength to break out of his daze. “Yeah, doll. I’ll see you then”

With silent smiles, Eddie watched you retreat back up the siding of your house back through your window, pausing to look back at him. 

Eddie drove home with a smile plastered to his face. 

-

The second week of February was filled with stolen glances in the busy hallways of Hawkins High. Your home economics classes flew by, papers being graffitied with notes and doodles passed between the two of you. Your dreams were filled with Eddie. Every second or third comment to your regular grouping of lunch buddies was something that the metalhead said or did or comments that reminded you of him; But you didn’t dare disturb him and his gaggle of Hellfire-clad freshmen; just like he knew he would warrant a death wish by coming to speak to you and your friends. So, you kept your little slice of heaven to blushing smiles, secret notes, and your home ec class.

When the two of you both found yourselves at school late (which both of you were finding more excuses, Eddie would offer to drive you home. You would sheepishly follow him through the parking lot and take (what Eddie will now permanently hope is) your spot in his rusty van. You were scared to admit it to Eddie, but it was easy for your own revelation: Eddie was very quickly becoming your comfort person.

February 14th was usually a day that reaffirmed that Eddie was destined for a life of loneliness in Hawkins, Indiana. Until, he pried open his overfull locker and was greeted with a small green note with his name neatly printed on it. 

“Eddie. Thank you for being such a great person to be around. I hope you have a great day - just like the rest. You deserve them.”

Under the message, your name sat with a small heart scribbled next to it. Eddie’s cheeks burnt a furious red. His big brown eyes scanned the hallway desperately, hoping to spot your bouncy curls, or hear your infectious laugh; but to no avail. He trudged through the halls. He strode up to Chrissy Cunningham and her gaggle of cheerleaders - your normal crowd.

“Hey Chrissy.”

“Oh- uh, Eddie?” The metalhead could tell that he had caught the girl off guard.

“Sorry, don’t mean to bother you in your natural habitat” the girls shifted uneasily. “But do you know where Y/N is? I need to talk to her… about home ec homework.” He wavered over his lie, and Chrissy caught the note grasped tightly in his hand. 

“I haven’t seen her yet today.” The girl gave a polite but curt answer. The group dissipated, but Chrissy offered a light touch on his shoulder. “When I see her, I’ll let her know you need to talk to her.” With her words ringing in his ear, and the shrill warning of the morning bell, Eddie was alone in the hallway with his lovestruck mind. He decided to do what he did every time he was in crisis: go to the bleachers and make himself forget about all the shit that was worrying him. He spent the morning outside, but by the end of the day Eddie had spent his time either thinking about you, or tracing every inch of the school looking for you.

You had stayed home, school feeling less than ideal today. You had stuffed the note in Eddie’s locker at the end of the day - opting to stay even later than he did and walked yourself home. You didn’t sleep all night, and could barely get any food down today. Would he understand? You were only bold enough to make a move in subtleties. Would he care? 

Eddie gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles. It was a drive that he wished was both over already and would never end. It was a short drive to your house from Forest Hills Trailer Park. Eddie had called Hellfire off and beelined out of the school when he found out you hadn’t shown up at all. He felt he had paced a trench in his bedroom floor debating whether or not he should go to your house. What if the letter was a mistake? Or if you were only reaffirming you only liked him as a friend? When the clock hit 9:30pm, he couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed his keys from the hook by the door and trotted down the concrete steps. When the van rumbled to a start, he turned the radio fully off, too tempted to be absorbed in his own thoughts. The streetlights of your neighborhood illuminated the small red heart box and the humble bouquet of roses that sat where you normally did. Eddie chewed on his lip so hard he thought he tasted blood. His brakes squealed to a halt on the sidewalk outside of your tidy little house. He had hoped that the light in your bedroom would be off, so he could wimp out and go home and hide in his bed forever. But his heart skipped an excited beat when he saw the light in the window you had crawled out of a week ago was on, and it illuminated your figure moving through your room.His breath caught in his throat as he turned the key in his ignition and grabbed his wares to begin his journey up the ivy siding to your window. 

-

You had hid yourself away in your room - cassettes, VCRs and books being your welcome distraction from your anxious heart. A tap on your window pulled you from Madonna’s breathy whines about living in a material world. Your heart dropped to your knees when you saw a mop of dark ringlets framing an alabaster face. Eddie’s eyes were wider than you have ever seen them, but filled with an unreadable haze. You rushed to the window and let the boy fall into your room. He straightened himself up with a nervous smile, you returned the sentiment. His hands stayed fixed behind his long body. He shifted his weight, but couldn’t help but inch closer to you as well. 

“Hey” he peeped

“Hi, Eddie. What are you-”

“I-uh. I got your note.”

Your breath hitched and it was your turn to shift your weight. The spot on your carpet was suddenly too tempting to look at than Eddie’s face. His hands obscured his vision. In them you saw a small red box, and flowers. You looked up at Eddie with confused excitement; his face was warm, cheeks blushing. 

“I looked for you all day at school today because I wanted to ask you if you’d be my-”

Before he could finish his sentence, you threw yourself into his arms. Your cheek could feel the pounding in his chest and he stood in shock. 

“Of course I will, Eddie.” You breathed into him. You pulled yourself away from him and took the flowers from his hand. You placed them on your desk with a giggle. You turned to see the open box that Eddie had in his hand. In it laid a small chain with a pink and purple guitar pick. You gasped in awe and your eyes filled with tears. 

“I thought, since I have one-” he pulled a red and black pick on a chain out of his Dio tee. “We could kind of match.” Eddie’s voice shook. His cheeks matched the red on his own necklace. You pulled him to you and pecked your plumped lips against his cheek. Eddie chuckled as he spun you to put your new favorite piece of jewelry on you. Eddie clasped the metal and ran his hands down your arms. 

“Let me take you on a date, please?” He whispered. His hands sent shivers throughout your body. His lips pursed on the top of your head and you wished you could stay in this moment forever. You turned in his arms and draped yourself around his neck. His arms migrated from your arms to your cheeks. His doe eyes were dark with admiration, he wanted to devour you whole, but he waited, silently asking for permission to press his lips to yours. You silently obliged him and tilted your chin up to him. His soft lips met yours and the world slowed. His thumb traced small grounding circles on your jaw. Your insides filled with molten, a desperation for the moment to never stop. Eddie’s soft lips probed yours, lightly asking for permission to deepen your kiss. You permitted him with a content sigh and let Eddie show you just how much he really cared about you. All of the words he was too afraid to say to you, all of the times he wished that he could sweep you off your feet and kiss you in front of everyone. For the thank you he couldn’t give you for the note you left him. For the times he wanted to ask you out in his van, or the time he desperately wanted to tuck your wet hair behind your ear the first day he drove you home. He poured all his heart out to you and you felt it. You pulled away softly with wet eyes. 

“Eddie, I would be honored.”

-

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