sidewalksock

[chlmtsdoll]

BOMBSHELL

౨ৎ @cinnamoncunt asked: can we pleaseee get an either art or patrick fic with victoria secret model reader?

Um, ABSOLUTELY ? Let’s do both ! Perfect timing bc I just settled on being a vs angel for halloween since I don’t have 2 bfs to do challengers this year. I’m sick of seeing the girls on my fyp who get to do it so this will justify my envy. 🤍

౨ৎ summary: it’s 2006 and you’re the opener for this years Victoria’s Secret fashion show. But unlike your other fellow angels, you have not one, but two supportive boyfriends just waiting to get their hands on you after the show.

౨ৎ warnings: 18+, smut !, threesome, p in v (unprotected) sex, oral (f) receiving, early 20’s Art and Pat, model reader, womanizer Patrick, shy Art, reader has dom-ish moments, flirty foreplay, pet names, dirty talk, Victoria’s Secret (the brand) mentions, a song inspo: Long Way 2 Go by Cassie

You might’ve been the only angel backstage with two boyfriends on her radar.

No, you totally were.

And that was fine by you when having the two boys under your wings was your own little secret.

Art and Patrick wouldn’t have missed it for the world. With not only their supermodel girlfriend being the opener for the Victoria’s Secret Fashion show, but fulfilling a great erotic teenage dream — something they both watched together during former years. In their dorm room at the Mark Rebellato Academy, while the other thirteen year olds would be up playing video games, or signing up for extra tennis classes in their free time, those two were glued in front of the tv. Creating a world of their own fantasy’s filled with angel wings and lingering far too overwhelming for them to even handle. Long legs, the bounciest glowing curls and pink bra sets filling the void. Their fascination with gorgeous and exceptionally powerful women at such a young age was far more vibrant than average.

It was what they bonded over from the very beginning.

Doing whatever they could whenever they could to find girls as close to what you happened to be as possible.

So when you came into their life, effortlessly magnetic with your beauty, superb bone structure, glitter dusted skin and a modeling contract — Art and Patrick had been at your beck and call since.

This was your peak. You’d really been here. Your I made it moment sinking in as you sat in the makeup chair backstage. The chaos of other models and their teams all rushing to get ready for the huge fashion show starting in just an hour tops was comforting to you, as an artist smudged on your cherry blush and the stroke of mascara running through your lashes before you checked your reflection in the mirror. Perfection to the way your curls flowed down your back, to even the careless drape of your robe hanging off your shoulder.

In the distance coming from not too far, there had been tousling wings parting as crew of models jumped out of the way, along with yelps like “what the hell ?” and “you guys can’t be back here!” coming from the group of girls.

And of course, it had been your blonde and brunette trailing through the crowd of angels to find you.

You watched with giggles coming from your covered mouth as the most handsomely men approached you. “What are you two doing back here?! You’re gonna get me fired and I haven’t even walked yet- -”

Art had a sideways little smile on his face, and eyes set on your face done up in shimmery makeup. You could nearly feel the way Arts heart had to be beating out of his chest just by the flustered look on his expression. Red and a tad dewy in the heat of the other barely clothed with mostly just rhinestones and lace six foot models surrounding him — but his focus was automatically choked up by you. On the other hand, Patrick’s eyes had been lingering all over the place, standing next to Art with a smirk across his lips as he had already charmed a group of angels nearby. Waving to them a bit with his sly attitude being just what they needed to get the fun pumping out of them for the show. As the girls all giggled to themselves and tried their best to look away, the brunette couldn’t wait to go yapping to all his friends or whoever would listen about all the hot girls he’d seen tonight.

You were so used to his cockiness contrasting Arts sweetness all too well, it hadn’t even phased you in the slightest..

“We uh- - wanted to bring you a little gift.” The blonde one spoke up nervously after clearing his throat, from behind his back, he revealed to you a full bouquet of pink peonies.

“Your favorite for all that hard work in the gym. The prettiest for our pretty girl.” Patrick grinned as he passed the flowers to you and you had let out an excited little noise as you took them. Your smile facing the two men as they watched your every girlish movement that they adored, smelling the arrangement in front of you.

“I- - you guys are too cute. They’re lovely.”

“You look bad ass by the way.” Art finally let himself breathe before chuckling with a smirk. And you grinned at him, pink colored cheeks as you stand to get closer to the men. Lean and in your six inches, Patrick shoved his hands down in his pockets just so resist the urge to touch you. Just a hip or your wrist. Anything he could while you looked like that. In all the eloquence of a woman that you were. Body so fit to him it was almost painful he wasn’t going into a spiral right now.

“Please confirm this for me angel.. can the wings stay on tonight ?” The brunette licked his lips carved into a smile of his own mischievous thoughts, Art then shoved him in his bicep.

You couldn’t help but let out soft laughter as you looked down at the peonies with shyness although your eyes had been full of tease.

“I can’t take them silly, they’re gonna be up in a museum.” You bit your lip as you smiled at your boyfriends. Eyes sparkling under the florescent lights of the room and the pair had collectively sucked in their breaths from.

“Ah.. course, course.” Patrick nodded although he’d still been eyeing you up in your pink stripped robe. “I don’t think they’d be able to fit in the limo anyways, they’re so big..” the blonde one laughed with the two of you, your eyes moved between them before you looked away with a naughty but playful nature.

“Yeah, well, I gotta say I like my pleasures pretty big..” your tone was smooth, as smooth as the way your hand then trailed, pink tips touching delicately over Arts belt buckle to Patrick’s leather as you made sure to meet both of the boy’s widening eyes. You turn back to your makeup chair with a little smile.

“Holy shit.” and “Oh my god.” Was heard behind your shoulder.

“Now go before you get kicked out.” You giggled. Patrick had knock Arts shoulder so he’d come back to earth and start heading out with him. You waved their way with your fingers and could barely hide your embarrassingly big smile, watching them fawn over you even while exiting.

As the show began and the crowd was roaring, the anticipation backstage was an overwhelming high with the rest of your fellow angels. You were first. And that was a lot of weight on your back. (not just from your wings) the moment you stepped on the runway, and the lights set on you, cheers were heard from the far back of the audience as your gleaming smile took upon your face. In your vs set, glimmering down the runway. You felt the adrenaline move within your hips as you not walked, but glided down the runway in a sexiness that had a sense of grace and girlish fun. Excitement big and bubbling through you as you blew kisses to the crowds of not just other models, but fans, legends. Everyone admiring you.

The front row wasn’t absent of familiar faces either because when you found Art and Patrick eyeing each other with proud grins, all the memories and moments of their early teen hoods was like a flashback through their minds. Art and Patrick would shamefully try and hide the way their cocks would tent as they watched one after the other angel strut down the runway. In bliss it was all the wanted to see it right in front of them. Now, that same feeling was on a different level when they got to actually leave with one herself. the moment you flashed a smile at the two boys from the stage before swishing your lace lined hips back stage — they started cheering even more than the others around them. You closed heavenly. And you knew you looked damn good with seven foot pink angel wings behind you.

♡

When the after party rolled around, it was all of your model friends to pour it up in celebration of a phenomenal show. The other angels had begged you to stay, keep dancing on tables and flirting with the guys at the bar — but your desire had been pulled to have your own little after party. But with just your two boys in attendance.

You let them take over your hotel suit with as much whiskey and champagne as they wanted, more wine and more glasses being delivered to your room would rack up a massive bill at the end of the night that your agents would take care of. You couldn’t give a care in the world as you’d been frolicking around that room in your gifted pink set, diamond bra stuck to your chest made you look from another world of heavenliness. Your heels were still strapped on and the r&b from the radio filled the area as you stood on the bed to pose for the camera of your blinged out BlackBerry. You had Patrick snapping pictures, capturing you on your big night. Even if you’d already gotten tons from the show, that just wasn’t enough when you had the looks of a goddess.

“Hell yeah, baby, that’s it.” The brunette edged you on as he got you from all angels, knowing he’d send them to himself immediately after you’d gotten your pick. You giggled with a glass of champagne in one hand, and your other pushing up your locks for more volume. Art sipping on whatever he had while observing you from Patrick’s side. Putting on a show for the two boys without even realizing it.

“Make sure you get my good side,”

“Are they not the same ?” The brunette had made an confused expression from behind the phone. You stopped from posing to reach out and laugh “gimme” you grabbed it from him and all he could do was grin at the way you had no idea just how much of a true bombshell were. Art sat on the bed closest to you while you pressed different buttons to scroll through the dozens of photos with a bitten lip covered in gloss. The blondes eyes ran over your skin, the way you sat in that little set, and the way he relaxed against the comforter of the bed with a shy grin made you look up from your phone to meet his blue orbs.

“What ?” You tittered, throwing your phone to the other side of the bed.

“It’s just, you were so confident out there tonight, princess. You’re always so.. confident. You didn’t even look like a thought of nervousness had crossed your mind,” Art reached out to run the back of his index over your glowing skin and you hid your smile in your shoulder a bit.

“I was so nervous.”

“Really ?” He sat up.

“Yeah, opening in front of all those people ? Live tv ? Half naked and in six inch heels ? I was terrified.”

“You could of fooled me.” Patrick scoffed as he sat on your other side, “what Art said.. your confidence. It’s so sexy.”

“Yeah ?” Your voice was slightly silkier as you look from the brunette to the blonde who were only inches away from you now, breathing in your pure seduction they couldn’t hide the need to want to get that lacy thong off you immediately. Taste what you’d been teasing them with all night long.

“like.. what if my heel got stuck ? …what if I fell ?”

“No way, your- effortless.”

“But would you have rushed to save me ?” You leaned in close to the brunette, batted you lashes with a subtle pout. And it was then that rare occasion when Patrick had gotten choked up on his words occurred. You gave him your sweetest eyes, and smirked at the way his vision trailed down to your lips from there. Hands going to slip around your thigh.

“Who wouldn’t ?” You then heard the blondes voice come in slowly. He watched you turn away from Patrick’s embrace to now focus on him.

Arts eyes meet yours and that sugary smile you always carry returned to your face too soon. You followed what he laid down. Leaning in Arts path now, your lips landed against the blondes. Slow and with ease you kiss and the tension in who’d entrance you first was settled. Art slipped a hand in your waves, he moved his mouth against yours like it had been second nature to him and you sat on your knees to deepen it, tongues running against one another and a soft “mmm” came from the back of your throat as he surprised you with his newfound control over his movements.

Lost in the kisses as your lips smack against one another continuously, the lip stain of your liner now smudged across arts mouth, the blonde groaned. Patrick, felt his hard on grow viscous as he scanned the two of you. And Art, way beyond that point, could of came if it went on just a few more minutes.

You grab on to his curly locks as you pulled him away, softly panting with a smile. Arts lips were lingering nearby as you closed your eyes to peck them one last time before brushing your thumb against his bottom one with a giggle, your view flashes Patrick’s direction.

“Now, are you gonna make me cum or what ?” You sigh before letting your back hit the sheets behind you, leaving the two to fend for themselves at once. You watched Patrick’s digits run over your front side, hunger in his as while feeling up your skin. Art already leaned in to find his place between your legs — the other following when he got the memo. “mmm, you smell like paradise..” Art had his nose pressed against your lace covered cunt. He breathed deep for your sent to fill his senses, and Patrick kissing up your thigh. You observed with a bitten lip as you play with the strap of your bra.

“She is paradise..” was the brunette’s response, he nibbled a bit on the plushness of your thigh and you squeal excitedly. Both boys struggle to let the other get your panties out of the way, you were amused to watch them. You just lifted your legs so it would be easier. They settled on the side since your set had been hot anyways. One leg on the shoulder of the other, you felt a digit come in contact with your clit — already letting out a soft whimper. A tongue laid a stripe up your cunt, and it felt like sweet relief.

Art took his time with going from kissing to lapping at your core, setting his tongue flat then flicking up to your folds, Patrick focused on your clit. Sucking till his lips find their way to eating you in rhythm. Your eyebrows knit together as you let out a higher pitched noise and stuffed your hands into their hair, the overwhelming sensations washed over you. Moans echo clean from your throat. “oh- yeah… good boys.” you heard more groans vibrate from your core and that made you grin. All while now reaching for the pillows above your head as the boys make your legs shake and tremble. You gasp, muttering curses under your breath.

They were too good just oral wise. It had your nails clawing at the sheets in no time as they let all their craving for you out on your pussy, it pushed you into a climax fast.

“Mmm, yes- - fuck !” you whine as you start to cum on the tongues that were fucking into you, even their licking and sucking after your soaked cunt made you shutter. Your grip on the sheets letting up slowly as you came down with a soft sigh. Art rubbed the back of your thigh as he leaned up with the other, they both sat back with their chests heaving and very visible bulges showing from behind their jeans.

You cracked a honeyed smile. “Okay. Let me see those cocks.” You rise to your elbows after the order and the men take no hesitation to get their buttons undone. Your smile turning to a darker smirk soon enough in anticipation.

“She wants to play, huh ?” Art’s lips curled into a grin as he looked up at you whist shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs, Patrick already way ahead of him as he chuckled,

“Always a bad girl under all that sweetness,” the brunette joked as he playfully pulled on your foot and you yanked it away with a giggle. “You know I can’t help it.” You lean up to see the sight in front of you. Both men hard enough to keep you up till sunrise and your eyes light up right then. “Oh, look what we have here..” your tone was playful as you got closer, keeping an eye on them but also the way both their pretty cocks stood in excitement for you.

Reaching out you went to Patrick first. Letting your soft but experienced hand stroke him a bit, just to feel his thickness grow in your embrace.

“Shit..” the word slips from him and you sucked in your bottom lip as you went to work, innocently watching his expression as you stroked him so calmly but with devotion.

“Y’know… I never got a kiss.” The man uttered and you scoffed kittenishly before hovering your lips above his, smooching just once before Patrick went in hot, reaching behind you to palm at your ass and inch you forward to him. You yelped mixed with a string of giggles, pushing him down on the bed so you can climb on top of him.

“Get this off,” your voice was playful and flirty as you pulled Patrick’s shirt over his chest and arms. “You too, Art.” the blonde was quick to follow.

Your dripping core was just inches above Patrick's erect member. You sat at top of his body, just smiling and admiring the view. But it was a known fact the man underneath you was quite impatient, especially when you’d been running your hands down his chest the way you were, acrylic nails doing their own thing by the texture of the hair lightly trialed there.

“You gonna show me how you ride like an angel, princess ? Or should I do it myself ?” You were blushing right after his words, nodding a bit, your hands lead down farther to find his dick, brushing it up against your clothed slit as you sucked in your breath. With just a couple adjustments, you were leaning up so you could fit Patrick’s thick and full cock inside of you. A whimper immediately breaking through you as you sunk down. And the brunette didn’t hold back for a second as he held your hips, thumb kneading against the mesh fabric of your panties and watching the way you move so gracefully above him.

Art was too drawn in by the scene to have even remembered to get himself prepared. He hadn’t touched his cock, but you knew what to do.

Reaching out, you gently took Arts chin in your palm as you brought him close. Still going up Patrick’s cock as you kissed the blonde nice and slow. You all were beginning to be a mess of moans. “Touch yourself while we fuck, okay ?” You whispered against Arts ear. It caused him the most delightful chills. He didn’t think twice as his own hand went to his cock. And you started bouncing on Patrick, whimpering and moaning out like their hadn’t been people in the next door rooms — your hair springing off your skin with you.

“There you go, doll… take my dick. You’re so fucking hot.” Patrick grunted as he held your waist so you could fuck yourself against him, leaving no space between as you rocked yourself on his lap. Your mouth went agape when he readjusted to pound up into your tight hole,

“Yeah- - was I the hottest angel out there tonight ?”

“Fuck yeah..” the brunette grabbed you with roughness so you’d been flush with his chest, you smiled as he made your pussy clench hard frantically and your moans turned into stuttering whines. Taking him like this, you knew you’d cum. So you then hit on his chest to let you up, that way you could save your next high just a little longer.

“Oh- - shit… shit,” you climbed off of the man and sniveled out as you flipped your hair out of your face.

“Oh my god.. baby, I was so close.”

“Not yet. Art, come fuck me.” Your directness had turned the blonde on so much he could feel his cock twitch at your words. He met you, and with one look at your gorgeous set gaze on his and a smirk on your lips it set his thoughts wild. His tongue darted out to wet his own lip as you smiled up at him, you finally got rid of your bra now, and slipped off your panties before placing a hand on his neck tenderly as the other slid up his chest. Arts eyes locked with yours, he just watched you with a coy little sideways smile. And when you turned around, your ass was at his crotch, you were bending over near the bedspread and he sucked in his breath. “Oh, shit..” the blonde muttered. And it made you giggle girlishly.

You were pushing your soaked pussy on Arts member, “my god, you’re so wet.” He announced just ready to pump you full himself, but he knew he wouldn’t want anything to ruin the sweetness of the moment. So he let his tip meet your core, you observed with wide eyes, his dick perfectly pink and dripping of pre cum. You were practically salivating at the sight. “Fuck her good, Art.” Patrick chimed in and the blonde pushed into you with a deep groan leaving his throat, you gripped at the sheets as your face scrunched up and your jaw went hanging. Art slowly moved his hips against you, mouth agape at the sight of your ass against him heavily. Arts hand kneaded against your hip.

You spread your legs a little farther apart to take him. All of him. Moaning like you’d been split in half, Art started to thrust nice and easy. It made you reach back to grab his muscly arm for support and he grunted from the sight of your teasing eyes watching him, you always just had to see Arts face whenever he fucked you, because he was so pretty. Especially like this — chest glistening and damp curls as he made escalating noises exit you. You regularly told him he would be successful if he ever gave modeling a shot. Although he never believed you, thinking you were just being kind. But you really meant it. Art was delicious on the eyes. And not that he took any away from Patrick (him being too pretentious even for the modeling industry anyways) but they each had their own beauty to serve in different ways. Arts gorgeousness came straight from good genes. And just like his face, so did his cock. Wonderful and thicker than most guys his age, especially when he put it to good use like you and Patrick occasionally showed him.

You smile beneath your bitten lip and mewls at your other delectable boyfriend, Arts sly grin was in response and when he pounded into you faster, you felt the bed shake. You couldn’t hold back as you began to scream his name. It was always in the front of your mind to make Art feel good when you knew he struggled with his shyness at times unlike the brunette.

“Yes ! Yes, oh fuck- - make me cum, Art !”

“Yeah ? ..You like that ?” The blonde huffed as he snapped his hips into you,

“Uh hu… harder- - fuck it, just like that.”

Art let his hands palms at your ass, then slide up your torso to cup your breasts. Gripping them in his hands as you slid yourself up and down his member. “Your tits are fucking perfect, oh my god.” You felt slick running down your inner thigh, sheets tight in your palms as your eyes began to roll.

Patrick who watched right beside Art, was jerking himself to the sounds of your syrupy moans. You looked too angelic on Arts cock, he couldn’t help it as his free hand smacked down on your ass while you fucked yourself on Art. It made you both groan. And you loved it, your flirty smile said it all.

Art felt full enough to cum in you right then, the sight of your cunt spread against him was starting to make his head spin. “I’m gonna fill you up pretty girl, you ready ?” It was quick thrusts and a mixture of your half screams and half moans of “fuck, Art!” Filling the noise of the room before you were gushing around his dick. And he was spilling inside of you like that, an uncontrollable amount of his seed was painting your walls and the blonde made sure to get every last drip of it in your sweet cunt. The other man l beside him pumped his cock quick to releasing on your back side all with a string of groans and curses.

You didn’t collapse on your stomach just yet, not only the feeling of the two boys marking their territory on you being too excellent of a feeling to end just yet, but because Art crouched to lick at your puffy cunt. He tasted the mixture of you and him (with Patrick flowing into the mix) as you let out soft whimpers against the pillows. The brunette gripped your ass cheeks to help and you wiggled from the pleasure with a sigh of giggles. “naughty girl.” He smirked, the other licked up what was left of all of you like a pro. Your toes flexed and curled with the punch of his tongue.

“Fuck. That was amazing. You were amazing. ” Was all he could say when he collapsed on he comforter beside you with a deep breath and you turned on your back too. Slowly coming down from trembling. Art wrapped an arm over your body as he rested against your shoulder and you smile.

“That was the most fun I’ve ever had- - ever.” Your laughter was light and Patrick to your side got close to your body too, you let your hand gently caress his jaw.

“They weren’t gonna give you that at the after party we’re they ?” He grinned.

“No. Definitely not.” you shook your head with the sweat on your face only making your half ruined makeup look better somehow. Your love spell body shimmer still stuck to your skin and even got on Art and Patrick’s sculpted bodies pretty nicely as they gently rubbed you down. You smiled before tapping above your cheek bones, and both of your boys knew what to do. They left a two sweet kisses for you.

[stayteezdreams]

About Time

Plot: While attending a Halloween event, you gain the attention of others. Something your friend Seungcheol really seems to hate.

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x Gn!Reader (friends to lovers)

Requested Prompts: 'Jealousy: You attend a Halloween party and 'x' can't handle the attention you are getting from others, this causes them to make their feelings known.' + 'A grabs B’s hand instinctively out of surprise or fear, and continues to hold it.' (<changed slightly) and "If you get scared you can hold onto me." "Oh you'd love that wouldn't you?" "Very much."

Combined Requests Of: Anonymous and @tumbleboof

A/n: Not really all that Halloween themed but I hope you still like it!

Words: 2.5k

It's not that you hated attention, but the sudden amount of it you seemed to be receiving made you a bit uneasy. You knew your costume was a bit more on the sexy side than you usually wear, but you weren't expecting it to cause a bunch of guys you didn't really know to migrate towards you like moths to a flame.

And it's not that Seungcheol didn't think you looked great, but the sudden amount of attention you were getting pissed him off.

Where were these guys when you were dressed normally? He glared at them. They only paid you attention because they liked your body now that they could make out more of it. They didn't care about you, just how you looked.

His hand was clenched tightly around his drink as he watched you closely from across the room. He could tell, though you were smiling and laughing, you were a bit uneasy from the attention.

If anyone looked at Seungcheol right now, it would be clear as day he was jealous. Not at the attention you were giving others, he knew, or at least hoped, you weren't interested in any of these guys. But you came to the party with him, and now you were spending it with others. He let out a deep sigh as you laughed at another joke.

He brought this on himself. He was the coward who never made a move or told you how he felt. Watching this must be his punishment.

Straightening up as a guy who had been heavily flirting with you, leaned in to whisper something in your ear, Seungcheol's blood ran hot.

Before you could respond to the man, your eye's shot over to Seokmin who turned the music off and stood up on a chair to announce something.

"The haunted maze is now open in the back!"

You felt a bit of relief at this, hoping some of the people surrounding you would leave to take part in the maze, and you could get a little space.

As some grabbed their friends and headed out, you were taken aback when a few of them all asked you to go with them. You heard a soft laugh from the guy beside you. He had been the one who whispered to you, asking if you were single. He had also been the one flirting with you the most during the party.

Suddenly his hand nudged yours as he smiled confidently at you, as if he knew you would choose him. "Let's go together."

Before you could reject him, you felt someone walk up behind you and wrap his arm around your waist. Looking back in alarm, your eyes met Seungcheol's familiar gaze and relief washed over you.

He smiled at you before he looked at the guy beside you. "Sorry, but we planned to go together already."

His arm left your waist as his hand slipped into yours, "Come on."

Turning and leaving with Seungcheol you let out a soft sigh as you looked over at him. Your words died in your throat as you saw the stone-cold look on his face. He didn't look back at you, and you wondered what happened to make him so mad.

Seokmin greeted the two of you happily, his eyes drifting down to your intertwined hands, and he repressed a grin as he gave Seungcheol a knowing look.

Seungcheol rolled his eyes as he walked with you towards the maze, his heart fluttering as he realized he was still holding your hand.

When you entered the maze, you glanced back at Seungcheol. His gaze wasn't as hard as it was before, but he still looked angry. Gently tugging at his arm, his eyes shot over to you.

"What's wrong?"

He hesitated to speak, not sure if or how he would tell you. Part of him wished it was obvious. He cleared his throat softly. "Nothing."

You frowned, wondering if you did something. Just as you opened your mouth to ask, a hand shot out of the maze with a loud scream, causing you and Seungcheol to both jump in surprise.

Seungcheol quickly pulled you away, as you clung onto him. Noticing this, his heart skipped a beat.

You let out a soft breath, "Why exactly did we come in here? We both hate this kind of thing."

He let out a soft laugh, "Good question."

His mind and body moved on their own before. When he heard those guys flirting with you and asking you to go into the maze with them, he felt nothing but jealousy and protectiveness. He was not going to let that happen. So, he swooped in and stole you away from them without really thinking about the maze itself.

You were growing more anxious as you went on, not just because of the maze, but because of Seungcheol's behavior. You couldn't shake the feeling that you had done something. Gently, as you made your way through a doorway, you released Seungcheol's arm and stepped away from him.

He did not fail to notice this, and his chest clenched when you did it. Why did you let go of him?

Another jump-scare had you both jolting forward and around a corner. You groaned but let out a soft laugh and Seungcheol chuckled.

Swallowed nervously he watched you closely as he spoke. "If you get scared you can hold onto me."

You scoffed softly with a playful tone in your voice. "Oh, you'd love that wouldn't you?"

He grinned, "Very much."

The way he said this made your heart skip as heat rose up your neck. You glanced at him and saw a smile that made your stomach fill with butterflies. The crush you had but pushed away floating to the surface again.

You repressed a grin, "And here I thought you were mad at me."

His eyes widened a bit as he frowned. "What?"

You looked at him pointedly and he realized why you thought that. He let out a soft sigh as he gently ruffled the back of your head, "I'm not mad at you. I'm sorry I made you think that."

"Then why won't you tell me why you are upset?"

He shrugged, his voice defensive. "Who said I am upset?"

You raised your brow, "Your face does, you looked like you wanted to kill someone earlier. But it's fine, you don't have to tell me."

The sulkiness in your tone as you walked ahead of him pouting made him grin. He let out a sigh as he repressed the urge to tell you how cute you were when you were like this. It drove him crazy.

Seungcheol took a few large quick steps to catch up to you, just as he got to your side. Someone (you would later find out to be Hoshi) dressed as a clown ran past screaming.

You stepped back in fear, avoiding him as he ran past. Instinctively, you grabbed onto Seungcheol for safety.

Seungcheol let out an annoyed groan at the scare, before he looked at you to see if you were alright. Noticing you were clinging onto him again, he grinned as he gently walked with you, hoping you wouldn't pull away from him again.

He kept his hand encased over yours as you gripped his arm, walking close together. "I'm sorry I dragged you in here." He said after you both flinched from a sudden noise.

You let out a soft laugh, "It's okay, I'd rather be here than back out there."

He looked over at you, "If you were uncomfortable you should have texted me, or given me a look, I would have come saved you."

You smiled softly, "I thought about it, but I didn't want to be rude to them or take you away from whatever it was you were doing."

He let out a soft breath, "What I was doing was standing nearby watching you to make sure none of those guys did anything inappropriate."

Your head snapped towards him, "You were watching me?"

He faltered to speak for a moment, unable to tell if you were angry, or just surprised. "Well... yeah?"

You watched him for a second before you let out a soft laugh and pinched him, making him hiss.

"Next time come save me yourself, jerk."

He grinned to himself, but also felt frustration at the fact he hadn't helped you when it turned out you wanted it.

You faltered in your steps a bit and looked over at him. Catching your eye, he tilted his head in question, but you looked away, keeping silent.

If he had been watching you that whole time, what made him so angry? Could it be that they were flirting? Or that that one guy got so close? Or maybe you were just imagining things. You let out a soft sigh as you confused yourself with your thoughts.

"Oh!! The exit!" You yelled in excitement as you suddenly saw the exit appear as you rounded a corner. "Come on!"

Seungcheol suddenly felt his chest tighten, the fear that if you exited, he would lose his chance all over again.

He stopped, making you halt as well. "Wait."

"What?" You looked around, wondering if he saw or heard something.

He swallowed as he looked over at you. "I was jealous."

Your heart skipped, "Huh?"

When he spoke, his words tumbled out quickly, knowing if he took too long to think about it, he might fail to say what he really wanted to.

"I was jealous. That was why I looked so angry before. I hated that those guys were getting all of your attention."

"You didn't like that I was paying attention to them and not you?" You couldn't hide the growing amusement in your voice and Seungcheol groaned.

"Don't make it sound like I'm a child!"

You laughed, "What? I didn't. I just... why were you jealous? And I don't mean of what, I mean why."

He looked around, making sure you were still alone, "Well I- I was afraid you might end up liking one of them, and-" You tilted your head as you listened, and his heart fluttered. He sighed, unable to take it anymore. "I like you, okay?"

Your eyes widened at the sudden blunt confession. "What?"

"I like you; I always have. As more than a friend. I've been wanting to tell you for a while, but... I'm a coward." He let out a soft scoff.

All your thoughts came to a crashing halt as your heart seemed to stop beating for a moment.

"You're not a coward Seungie."

The sudden use of the pet-name made his stomach flutter as he clenched his eyes shut. Were you about to let him down gently?

He let out a soft breath as he looked at you again. "I am."

"Then we are both cowards." He frowned at this, and you smiled softly, "I didn't tell you how I felt either."

His eyes widened a bit as he questioned you with his gaze before he spoke softly, as if he might scare you off if he spoke. "How you-... Y/n, do you like me too?"

His heart was racing now. In all this time he spent tormenting himself about telling you his feelings, he only ever saw the fact you might feel the same as a miracle.

You nodded softly, "I do. I guess neither of us considered the fact it might be mutual."

You let out a soft giggle at Seungcheol's bewildered face. The sound made a smile slowly spread across his face as he let out a soft scoff.

"Wait, wait." He brought his hands to your shoulders and looked directly into your eyes, making you freeze up nervously.

"So, we like each other?"

"I think that's what just happened, yes." You chuckled.

He stared at you as he slowly grinned, "I feel like I'm dreaming."

You bit back a laugh. "Do you want me to pinch you again?"

He chuckled as he shook his head, "No," his eyes suddenly flicked to your lips as a sly smile spread across his face, he leaned a little closer and spoke a bit softer. "But you can kiss me."

Your breath caught in your throat as you opened your mouth in shock. Gently smacking his chest you looked around, "Seungcheol!"

He giggled, "What?" Suddenly he seemed to be filled with confidence now that he knew his feelings were returned. He spent all this time pining, why not do something now that he can?

"You don't want too?"

You bit your lip, and he saw you fighting a smile. "Not here!" You said resolutely and he chuckled.

Taking your hand in his, he grinned. "Okay." Suddenly leading you towards the exit, you let out a soft laugh. He looked back at you. "Then we'll go somewhere else!"

You felt like you had the whole zoo rampaging through your stomach as you let him lead you out of the maze, through the packed party and all the way to his car.

Stopping by the passenger side door he turned back to you, suddenly stepping close to you as he peered into your eyes. "Is here okay? I was gonna wait until I drove you home, but-" he gently caressed your cheek, "I really don't want to wait anymore."

Biting the inside of your cheek, you looked around, not seeing anyone close by you shyly met his gaze as you nodded softly.

Smiling, he slowly leaned in closer, his hand cupping your cheek. Your noses brushed as he kept his eyes locked with yours. He went slow, making sure you weren't going to pull away. When you didn't, he closed the gap between you and pressed his lips gently against yours.

You showed no reservation, so he deepened the kiss, slowly. When you began returning the kiss, your hand gently gripping his shirt, he placed his hand on your back and pulled you flush against him.

Seungcheol would be lying if he said he had never imagined kissing you before. But he would not be lying if he said it was a thousand times better than what he imagined.

His heart fluttered and he felt like he could float away out of pure happiness. Naturally, the kiss became more passionate, both of you getting lost in each other. Your arms were now linked around his neck as one of his hands weaved messily through your hair.

You only pulled away when you heard a loud wolf whistle from nearby, causing you to look around. Seeing your friends Joshua and Vernon, trash bags in hand as they teased you.

"It's about time!" Joshua yelled as Vernon gave Seungcheol a thumbs-up

"Oh my God." You groaned as you buried your face in Seungcheol's chest.

He let out a chuckle as he shooed the boys away, his own ears burning from being caught.

"Come on." He chuckled as he pulled open the car door for you, leaning in, he spoke words that made your face burn hot, "We can continue this privately."

xx End xx

I hate endings, I never know how to do it naturally

Anyways, this is the last part in the 13 Days of Halloween 2024 series. I hope you enjoyed reading!

🌼 Taglist Form 🌼

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669,

@tinyelfperson, @pinievsev, @teenyfinds, @everythingboutkpop,

@shymexican, @stillwjk-channie-lixie, @alexxavicry

@luckypaintertyphoon < tag doesnt work

Seventeen Taglist: @ye0nvibezzn, @dancinglikebutterflywings

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader | p. 8

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n I'm so sorry for the hiatus. My mental health isn't where it should be, and my brain isn't in writing mode. I finally got this written down, and I left it alone for a while until I felt a bit more creative again. Hopefully, this chapter is good enough. Love you all!

-> <-

June 1983 . . . again

It’s so silly to be upset about something as ridiculous as a birthday. Big deal! You’ve had plenty of those in the past.

This morning you crumpled up a piece of paper taped to your fridge into a tight enough ball that your fingers began to pierce the flesh of your hands. Then, you toss the stupid note into the trash. Your mom left again. This time she and Brad are going to his vacation house.

Brad is yet another nobody she met after her shift at the strip joint in the sketchy part of town. Rich men flock to escape unhappy marriages, and pray on the poor sad strippers. Your mom keeps having too much hope that one of these men will pay-out and he will buy her a big fancy house. Unfortunately for her, their ruse will always draw her in. She does a few lines with them, and lays on her back for less than she’s worth. How could she even bring herself to this?

Eddie does try to cheer you up when he shows up to your house for the annual birthday celebration and the lights are dim throughout the house, and you’re slumped over your sofa like a deflated balloon. Somehow he coaxes you to get off of that couch. He encourages you to get yourself dressed by handing you shirts and handing you pants until he gets a grunt of approval out of you.

After you put on your clothes, you’re practically carried out to his van. You hesitate. After your mom swore something bad would happen if you get into his van, you’ve been sneaking rides now and again. Eddie’s also been giving you lessons when she’s not around. You frown. Gripping the handle tight, and with purpose, you swing open the passenger side door.

“Yes!” Eddie pats the seat next to him. Your boldened confidence sparks joy in him. That is until you give him the meanest mug known to man. And, you don’t mean to be harsh. You actually don’t realize that Eddie’s heart sinks when you grouch like this.

Rubber hitting gravel tunes out your huffing and puffing. When you hit the pavement, the shocks thud underneath you. Eddie says he’ll fix those eventually. He can’t fix the band equipment rolling in the back though. That’s something that just happens because he’s the only one in the band with a big enough rig to store all of this junk.

“I forgot to ask if you’re hungry,” Eddie says over the gray cloud covering your head.

You thunk your head against the window. It’s nearly eleven in the morning, and you haven’t had anything to eat. You’re not hungry. But, your stomach disagrees letting out the most aggravating groan. Why do bodies do that? The moment that someone mentions food, or when the room gets quiet - your stomach growls. It’s humiliating!

“I could eat,” you hold your stomach.

The way through to you is almost always food, or a brand new book. Eddie doesn’t have the time to drive all the way to Indianapolis to get you books from The Bookshelf, which is your favorite place to receive books from (or so Eddie can guess because he hasn’t gotten you anything you hate yet). So, he instead takes you to the next best place; Benny’s Diner.

It’s a hot spot. That’s mostly because it has been almost the only spot since ‘53. Yes, you’ve heard enough of Wayne’s stories from his younger years. He and his brother, Al, spent enough time downing milkshakes and getting brain freezes there. A part of you wants to ask Eddie more about his father, and if he is truly as bad as this town says he is. Eddie pretends not to recall a lot of his youth that was spent with his father, but behind those big brown eyes he’s got stories he could tell if he wanted too.

You slide your way into a booth across from Eddie after being seated by a snooty waitress with low hanging jowls and no patience for the teenagers, who, arguably, gives Benny’s the most buisness.

Some jock from the basketball team clambers over the back of the booth like a monkey to scoop fries off an innocent girl’s plate. Rightfully so, she swats at him, then aims a bottle of ketchup at his nose.

“Hey Wheeler,” the man dubbed ‘King Steve Harrington’ cups his hands around his mouth like a bird call to get the attention of Nancy Wheeler, who is just a booth and a half away with a thick chapter book between her fingertips.

Nancy meekly looks up without saying a word.

“It’s summer time,” he snorts. “What are you reading for?”

Tommy, another bone-head, clocks Steve in the shoulder with an open palm. This seems to encourage Steve’s prepubescent behavior. And, Steve jogs over to the table to bother Nancy some more.

What more is there to say about Steve? Steve Harrington. The man had enough brain cells to form one thought, and that was usually “party at my house!” Yes, after every basketball game that the Tigers won (which is a lot of games to be fair), you could find almost every member of the student body at his house.

It seems that Steve doesn’t care that his parents are never home. You wonder what they do to live in such a cushy house that’s bigger than most of the houses combined in Hawkins. Maybe you wouldn’t mind living like this if your family was rich too.

“What can I get you?” The waitress holds her pad of paper in one hand, and a sparkling red pen in the other. She puts all of her weight on one hip, so she can tap the other foot on the tile below. Her patience is running thin, and those kids on the other side of the restaurant are really starting to make her angry.

You speed through the menu, “strawberry milkshake and fries.”

Eddie orders a burger that he asks to be left a little bloody. When she glares at him, he moves on to order a vanilla milkshake without a wince when she snatches his menu from his hands.

Usually, Eddie will order some kind of burger that he has to add extra bacon and extra onions on top of. His favorite line is usually “bloody and stinky.”

If you weren’t feeling so bummed about your birthday, you might ask him if he’s on a diet. That always revs him up to push his stomach out and to talk with his belly button. Sometimes Eddie can be so childish - and really, you find him funny.

Today you wanted to be under five feet of dirt. You could finally get some peace and quiet after all that humming and worrying that goes on in between your ears. Your mom should be worried about you - not the other way around.

Eddie watches you become the booth behind you. Someone might as well have thrown water on you, and he wouldn’t be surprised if you started sobbing ‘I’m melting!’ right about now. Not like he’s seen the Wizard of Oz or anything. It’s not important enough to ever be mentioned out loud.

“Happy birthday?” Eddie tries to cheer you up. “Look, I know it’s not a cake and some candles. I don’t know. My dad and I never celebrated my birthday, and look how I turned out.”

You try not to be mean, so you let a sarcastic comment slide off your tongue. “You have tobacco in your teeth.”

The habit Eddie promises himself to quit. It’s just cigarettes, weed and the occasional sip of beer or two (or downing half a case by himself) for him. He’s got to stay healthy if he wants to make it to fifty. That’s high balling his life span. Okay, let’s say Corroded Coffin makes the big leagues in a couple of years, and Eddie at least wants ten good years with them - thirty. Thirty years is well enough for Eddie Munson. Er- that math isn’t right. Is it?

Eddie sucks the tobacco leaves out from his teeth, while you pick at the napkin in front of you. Seeing you so down nearly tears him in two. Having an absent parent himself, he knows the disappointment that’s eating you from the inside out. For years, Eddie would wake up in hopes that his dad would just show up completely sober. If he’s really optimistic that day, then his mom would come too. They’d be a big happy family and live in the suburbs. There would even be space for uncle Wayne.

Eddie knows the fantasy is just that. But, it isn’t about him. Your head is nearly touching the table, and he’s not so sure how to fix this. There isn’t really a way to fix this, is there?

The waitress returns with two shakes that she places down in front of you. A straw emerges from her apron pocket. She leaves you.

Your milkshake is questionably pink, but the real chunks of strawberries pressing against the glass make you forget what you’re about to consume. A glass of whatever the chefs get in those prepackaged containers that come in powdery. With a little mix of some milk, you’ll hardly taste the chemicals. with chunks of strawberries pressing against the glass. A wedge of whipped cream towers atop the shake with a strawberry dipped right on top.

Something that Eddie realized recently is how bright your eyes get when you’re excited. Inflating like a balloon, you sit straight up to stick the straw into the thick shake. Your lips kiss the straw without much thought, as Eddie begins to drift away from the restaurant.

In front of him, Eddie could dive deep into why he’s chosen you as his best friend. Because at first Wayne was just babysitting the neighbor kid and you could have easily been ignored from the next day after. Eddie finds you interesting.

Your lashes flutter away from him to the space behind him. As though in slow motion, his fantasy snaps.

“Jeff!” The sugar has already rushed to your brain in the absence of food, and in a fog you hiccup, “Hi, Gareth!”

Eddie whips around in time, before the two boys get too close to the booth. Their clothes are sticking to their bodies, and a fair amount of sweat graces their foreheads. Aside from being sticky, their mood is pleasant. Jeff tucks a helmet under his arm, as he approaches in a cool step.

Gareth swipes the sweat from his brow because really the hair sticking to him makes him itch, before causing a rash due to him mindlessly scratching his forehead off. He resists the tempting sting.

Meanwhile, Gareth also refuses to admit that the reason he stopped Jeff on their bike ride into town is because you’re sitting at a booth across from Eddie. Despite knowing how close you are as friends, there’s a grumpy troll deep in his belly that’s stomping on his gut that tells him to ‘just make sure.’ He rolls his shoulders back, and begs his face to quit frowning.

“Who knew the circus was in town?” Jason Carver cups his hands around his mouth. “Freaks!”

Chrissy Cunningham whacks him across the chest for being rude. As much as she likes Jason, his attitude towards the nerdy group that they all share the same high school with does really bother her. She puts up with him because she’s already introduced him to her parents, and maybe in a few years he’ll calm down.

While Jeff, Eddie and Gareth are more or less used to the treatment they receive from the goon squad, you can’t help but notice the way Gareth shoots a glare behind himself. This goes ignored by Jason, as one of the girls at the table has a spilled her soda. Surely, Jason would have caught the venomous stare and thrown Gareth halfway across the room. You don’t go looking for that sorry of trouble.

“‘Sup!” Jeff greats Eddie and yourself. “What are you two up too?”

“It’s her birthday,” even though he does like Jeff and Gareth, Eddie wishes the boys could take a hint and scram. Jeff has other intentions and does the polar opposite by plopping down nearly on Eddie’s lap.

“Happy birthday, girl!” Jeff wishes. “Got any big plans for the day?”

You shrug, “my mom is out of town, so I don’t really have anything going on.”

“What’s she out of town for?” The boy scrunches his nose up, and Eddie elbows him in the side. A desperate attempt on his part to get Jeff to shut-the-hell-up. “Business?”

“Sort of,” if only the business your mom conducted brought more money back to the house, instead of drugs.

A tickle lifts inside your throat that you swallow down. Perhaps the glossiness in your eyes could be hidden behind your lashes, and suddenly your drink becomes a lot more interesting. Flicking the condensation on the glass, Jeff leans over to whisper to Eddie about something.

“Gareth,” Jeff turns to the boy standing awkwardly at the head of the table. He hasn’t dared sit next to you, yet. “Can you entertain the birthday girl? I gotta talk to Eddie about something out back.”

Gareth opens his mouth to protest, but the words die flat on his tongue because Jeff and Eddie have already scooted from the booths. Their “business” is a classic exchange. Gareth’s been apart of a few of these dealings. In some ways, Eddie’s a bit of a douche come pricing on his supplies.

Everyone at Hawkins has bitten into the apple per se. It’s only when they need him that Eddie’s treated decent. So, Gareth supposes Eddie has his reasons to up-charge certain clientele.

There’s no word as to why Gareth gets the treatment, but he supposes there’s a reason or two.

Someone loudly clears their throat behind Gareth. It’s the waitress from earlier holding two hot and heavy plates of food. Gareth apologizes to her rolling eyes, before sliding into the booth across from you without much thought. The waitress drops the food off, then without another word she scurries off back to the kitchen.

“Jesus,” Gareth stares at the grease pile in front of him. “What did Eddie order this time?”

“They definitely spat on that,” you question your fries. “You know Eddie.”

“Oh, yeah,” treating society like they treat him, as always.

Gareth pushes the plate to the right where the sun kisses the burger through the window. It doesn’t look any more appealing in the light than the shadows in front of him. The silence between you and he is filled with drumming that comes from Gareth tapping the table.

You offer him your fries just to get him to knock it off. It’s not annoying, but his fidgeting is making you just as anxious. The tension subsides when Gareth pops a fry into his mouth.

“Can I ask?” He swallows, before speaking.

You raise and drop your shoulders unsure you want to answer. But, Gareth takes this as permission.

“Your mom has been out of town for a while?” It slips as more of a question, but the statement is put out there. Your mom is an absent parent. The only one you have.

“She came home for a short time with-,” you don’t know why you’re still defending her. Maybe she’ll come around one day and she’ll realize how great having a child has been. Doubtfully, “her coworkers. Er- but she suddenly had to go out of town. Meetings.”

The coworkers in question are the bums that stay after hours to give her a reason to party. Lately, the parties have bled into the living room. You’re stuck holding out in your room until they sober up enough to slobber out onto the street like a pack of dogs on the loose.

Dogs behave better than them.

“Meetings,” Gareth repeats as a mutual agreement not to press anymore questions, then quickly pops another fry into this mouth. This time he misses the landing, and the fry darts off of his cheek.

It’s hard to remember when the two of you hardly got along. That Gareth had been stubborn enough to decide that you would become a distraction for Eddie and the band would suffer. It now seems that there’s a different storm brewing instead of the one before it.

You cover your mouth, but the sweet melody brushes past your lips. Gareth goes a bit pink in the face, as he covers up the glee that he has at least amused you today.

The diner has quieted by the large group of teenagers getting up, and leaving through the front door. Nancy stays at her table reading a chapter book, and is most certainly grateful they’ve all gone. She won’t admit to keeping Steve Harrington’s phone number, but she will tuck the napkin tight in her pocket.

Music plays overhead that you hadn’t heard when you first came in. It’s fifties. An appropriate theme for how old the diner looks. Bright red booths. Checkered floor. Stainless steel instead of gold metal. It’s classic.

Gareth watches your eye wander away from him, as he decides how he wants to pull your attention back in. If he didn’t know any better, Jeff and Eddie were taking a suspicious amount of time to get back. That’s not to say he’s complaining. Any time getting you away from Eddie is getting Gareth that much closer to becoming bolder about his intentions with you.

Your heart skips inside your chest when Gareth’s knee knock into yours underneath the table. In not so many words, you hear him out and you understand him. A bit of relief settles your belly, but not before another aggravated weight of tension.

Pavlov and his damn dogs! That familiar jingle of the front door has both Gareth and you scooting back in your chairs. The heat from his body fades away from you.

Eddie and Jeff return.

“I told you they wouldn’t kill each other,” Jeff snorts.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

“Actually,” Gareth stands, so Eddie could have his place in the booth again. “We should get going.”

“I got something to do later,” Jeff pats his left pocket at his hip. No one is as amused as he is by his joke, but you pity him a laugh.

Before they can leave, a hand swings out to grab Gareth by the wrist. Eddie’s got wild eyes and a goofy grin. The boy is devilish, but he’s not the devil.

“What?” Gareth raises his brow.

Eddie retracts his grasp, and instead replaces it for an open palm reaching towards Gareth. “You owe me ten.”

“Eddie,” you scold. “He didn’t even touch your burger and he only ate a bite off of my food.”

Over the last couple years, Eddie has gotten better and better at the theatrics. When your at school together, he has this little habit of standing on top of lunch tables. You’ve gotten cautious now, and you’ll move your lunch before he kicks goalie kicks it across the room. Does he practice these monologues? One will never know with him.

“Not for breakfast, sweetheart,” his tone is firm. You’ve never been ‘sweatheart’ before. Sure, you have nicknames for each other. That’s just - weird. “I saw you with Jeff the other day. Ten bucks, big boy.”

Jeff and Gareth smoke sometimes from the stash that Eddie gives Jeff. After upping the charge for Gareth, they have a method that outsmarts Eddie. Or, at least their method used to outsmart him. Despite flunking a few classes, Eddie’s quick as a whip in his street smarts. There’s no getting around him!

“Come on,” Gareth protests, but reaches around for his wallet. “You can’t share amongst your good friends?”

“There’s nothing in the rules that says you can’t,” Eddie explains, “but, when you’re explicitly smoking from him to snag a free deal - Gareth, I feel duped!”

“Eddie,” you scold with open palms face down on the table. “It’s my birthday, and you can’t torture my friends on my birthday.”

Eddie snorts in disbelief, “it’s Gareth.”

You’re stone cold. That look might just pop Eddie’s head clear off. When did you give a shit about Gareth?

There hasn’t been a time yet that you’ve expressed any concern over Gareth. Jeff - yes. There was the time that Jeff had a paper due, you went through his mistakes in red ink, so that he could make corrections. You’re really good at writing. You should be with all the time you’re stuck in those notebooks writing away, and never letting anyone take a peak. Or, when Jeff needed to learn how to bake cookies for his Home Ec final. You were there too. But Gareth? Were you ill?

Eddie’s expression softens as he releases Gareth.

“Fine,” he sighs, “I’ll let it go.”

Gareth isn’t quite sure if he should thank you in front of Jeff and Eddie. Mostly because Eddie keeps one-eyeing him over his burger. Jeff wants to ask how you learned that trick on Eddie, as he can be quite persistent when he wants something done his own. Meanwhile, you’re snacking on another fry like it was nothing.

Before Eddie wants to start any more trouble, Jeff whisks Gareth away in a flash. They’ll probably smoke together, while digging an even bigger trench that they’re in with Eddie.

You’re left to enjoy a quiet meal with your best friend. Occasionally, you beg him to chew the food in his mouth with his lips shut. You’ll give up sometime when the burger is halfway down and done with.

Eddie won’t let you pay even though he’s practically down to dimes, quarters and dollar bills. It’s your birthday, and you’re going to be treated like the golden princess you are. Anything to let Eddie see your gleaming white smile is a win to him.

You don’t have a chance to spend much time with Eddie because he’s got an unspecified “something” to do today. It’s probably the band. They’re practicing this afternoon.

With that, you hop back into the passenger seat of his van. Eddie takes the long way around to your house, so you can practice your drum solo on his dash board. Slowly, you’ve picked up on a few of Eddie’s favorite songs. One day you might out-drum Gareth, and you could join the band.

Only in Eddie’s fantasies - not that he has a lot of fantasies about you. There’s an occasional rip in his friendship with you, as he likes to put it. A fluke. You’re not a fluke. It’s all him.

Anyway, you’re landing flat foot in the dirt right in front of your abode. Eddie wouldn’t let you walk the few steps across from his trailer. It’s silly how he does that. You wave like he’s going to be leaving for a journey to a far away land, instead of driving a couple feet and parking his van in front of his trailer.

You’ve got plenty of clean-up left to do inside of your home. There’s dirty dishes piled in the sink, the counters are covered in food and you might as well sweep the floor since you’re in there. The bathroom could also use a mop. Oh, but you might as well clean the entire bathroom. Because what’s the point in mopping if the bathroom isn’t clean?

The clock on your mother’s bed stand reads close to four in the afternoon when you finally finish making her bed with freshly washed sheets. It’s taken you hours, but the home is just starting to smell less like dread and a little more like hope - and lavender. You got a deal on room spray from the bargain store in town.

Stretching your arms way above your head, you decide to celebrate with a hot shower. The water running over your aching shoulders would feel good right about now. Plus, the towels are fresh from the wash as well.

Clean.

It’s such a simple, yet rewarding feeling. You don’t get to experience it all that often.

Cigarettes have stained the walls of your home, and buried themselves deep into your carpet fibers. There’s even a few burns here and there from your mother’s habit of falling asleep with a cigarette between her fingers.

You wrap yourself in a towel and forget about that for a moment. It’s just you and a bottle of lotion across your skin.

From your bedroom window, you can see Eddie pulling into his trailer once again. Back from band practice, Eddie skips up the steps to his trailer. You stop in the moment when Gareth jumps out of the passenger side. A dark t-shirt with missing sleeves and a pair of worn down denim shorts differ from this morning’s sweats. You don’t mean to stare, but really is it that awful to look over the menu? You’re not even ordering anything.

Snorting at yourself, you close the curtain for your own privacy to change and to loosen the thoughts bleeding your innocence. You throw a shirt over your head, and suddenly hear a single knock at your front door. It’s loud like a knock anyways.

Dressing yourself decently in a comfortable pair of pajamas (you have no plans to go anywhere), you head straight to the front door to figure out what the noise could be. Maybe your mom had come back, and she drunkenly forgot her keys.

Actually, the knock is a much prettier sight. There’s a bouquet of flowers in bright rich purples. You wonder who remembered your favorite flowers are these little orchards with the white center. There’s a card poking from the center of the bundle with Eddie, Jeff and Gareth’s nearly illegible handwriting. You hate to call their new band-mate ‘Freak,’ but he has signed the card as well. It says ‘Happy Birthday,’ and you coo.

You pick the bouquet off the porch by the glass vase the flowers are displayed in. Inhaling sweet aromas of warm days reading a good book in a field, you could cry.

“Thank you!” You wave to Gareth and Eddie, who are hiding neck deep in the engine of Eddie’s van pretending not to watch your reaction. They don’t really know much about girls, but you are one and so they try to make you feel different than them. They want you to feel special.

Eddie half waves like he’s too cool to admit what he’s done, but Gareth pops his head from the van and spins around to get a good look at you.

You hardly notice Gareth’s lingering gaze, as you’ve already closed the front door of your house with you inside.

It doesn’t take long for the phone to ring.

“Hello?”

“Are you ready?” Robin’s voice comes through clear and bouncing with energy.

You snicker. “Ready for what?”

“My mom is on her way to pick you up, you’re sleeping over at mine tonight,” she says as a matter-of-fact.

“Am I?”

“Eddie called me,” she explains, “Happy birthday by the way - oh! Your mom is a bitch.”

Robin begins rambling about the times your mom has irritated her because that’s what you two do. Among all things, Robin is your sibling by terms of the longevity of your friendship. She’s the only person to get away with calling out your mom directly to you.

“Robin,” you pause her rant. “If you want me over, I need to get an overnight bag ready.”

“Oh, right,” she clears her throat. “Five minutes.”

“Five?!” You exclaim. The line goes dead.

Oh, Robin. How you love her.

-> <-

[to be continued]

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax

[fanfic-scribbles]

Spooky Scary

Fandom: MCU Captain America/Avengers

Summary: Bucky tries to bond with you over your love of horror. It goes well, just...not how you'd expect.

Quick facts: Romance – Bucky Barnes/Reader – Nondescript Reader

Warnings: Reader loves horror but is also scared of it, short and very fluffy

MCU Timeline: Set some nebulous time after CA:TWS

Words: 1226

A/N: Please enjoy this short piece of Halloween fluff. For regular readers: I am having a bit of A Time right now and I don’t know if I’ll be able to update in November. I’m a little bummed; I’m very proud of having been able to keep my monthly update schedule, but I’ll be traveling for Thanksgiving this year and I recently had a set back that hit pretty hard. So right now I’m thinking I’ll take November off, *maybe* December if I have to, but we’ll see when we see. Nothing is abandoned, I just need a minute, so enjoy what’s here in the meantime, and I will see you later <3

~

You are on a date (not a date) with your crush (best friend) right now (right now!) and you are terrified.

In more ways than just one.

~

“You’re okay with a haunted house?” you ask, looking over the advertising placard. The overall layout is very ‘graphic design is my passion,’ but some of the photos look…unsettlingly good.

“It won’t bother me,” Bucky says with absolute confidence. “Clint says I’ll be fine. Something about the makeup being good but overall it’s pretty cheesy.”

~

You don’t know what you did to Clint, but a few Robin Hood jokes are not enough to warrant this.

A gruesome Jack-in-the-box pops out, telegraphed from a hallway down, and yet you still jump. You’re glad you picked Bucky’s left arm to grab– hopefully it isn’t pressure sensitive.

“You all right?” Bucky chuckles, his breath in your ear. Despite the ‘blood’-stained, grimy hall, you relax a little, and even smile at him.

“Doing great,” you lie.

You have a reputation. A deserved one, admittedly– you love Halloween. Horror movies and the macabre are for year-round, in your opinion, but there’s something about the energy in October that just makes it even better. Your friends know this.

They don’t know that you’re actually kind of a scaredy-cat.

So, yeah, horror movies are great– on a screen, when you’re alone at home and no one can see you flinch, jump, or peek out between your fingers.

Or gasp and jump out of your skin when a shadow runs past your open side. You’re gripping Bucky’s arm hard enough your hands hurt, but it’s also kind of…thrilling, being able to be so close to him. Or rather, being forced to, even if only by your own nerves. You might need some help unlatching your fingers by the end of the night.

But Clint, via Bucky, was right– the scene work could be better, you think, but maybe that’s a good thing, because the actors are great, in costume and performance, with one of the most terrifying being a woman following alongside you, unnoticed until the perfect moment. But no one comes close to touching you, and it doesn’t hurt that you’re in the company of someone who could stare down Jason and punch out a Xenomorph, so you actually start enjoying yourself.

You’re so distracted by everything that you completely miss what’s going on with Bucky– until he gently bumps your side and you jump almost clear off the floor. He lets out a heavy sigh and jerks his head up at a sign. You have to squint a bit, but you make out one of the exits, and after a few seconds, it clicks. Bucky needs to leave.

Just like that, you snap into crisis management mode, like any time you’re out and Bucky has a bad moment. It doesn’t happen too often, but you know how to handle it: get to a safer spot, wait a minute for him to calm, and if he can’t, walk him home.

Easy peasy, but when you get out and to the side of the building, Bucky turns and looks…fine. Composed.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. He looks surprised by the question, and he looks you over. And then he goes quiet– thinking, you assume. It takes him a little longer, sometimes, to figure out how to speak his thoughts. Right now, he’s looking a little frustrated, and nothing’s coming out.

“It’s okay,” you say and squeeze his hand. Thankfully, he squeezes back. “Take your time. You wanna get dinner?”

He hesitates, nods, and leads the way– still firmly holding your hand.

~

“I’m sorry.”

You’re halfway through a bite of pizza when he speaks again. And maybe it’s a good thing your mouth is full, because it gives you time to think about what he might mean. Then you realize– he must be talking about the haunted house. In your rush to swallow and reassure him, you almost choke. He immediately leans over to hit your back, but you manage to get it all down, and you take a quick sip of your drink before you say, “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I told you– if you ever need to leave a place, then we leave. Simple as that.”

He squints like he doesn’t understand. “You needed to leave,” he says, like he’s explaining to you. “You were scared.”

You duck your head. “It was a haunted house,” you say. Mumble. “The makeup was really good, and so were the actors.” You can feel him staring at you still, so you admit, “I’ve never been to a haunted house before.”

Bucky blinks. “But you love Halloween,” he says, almost accusingly.

“I do!” you say. “I love Halloween, and scary movies, and scary things…because they’re scary.”

It’s your first time admitting that out loud. You’re not ashamed, necessarily, but the way Bucky looks at you makes you wonder if you should be. “You like being scared?” he says.

“Sort of.” You push at your crust. “I know it’s not dignified, and you guys are really brave, and maybe you’ll think less of me, but–”

“It’s not that, and no I won’t, it’s just…” He rests his head in his hand and watches you. “I never knew that. That the stuff you like actually scares you.”

“It’s a safe kind of scared. Like roller coasters– scary, but I know I’ll be okay in the end.” You match his gaze. “But yeah, not exactly something to brag about, and I know you don’t like horror movies.”

“Yeah.” He ducks his head. “But I wanted to spend some time with you, and when I was asking for things you might like, it made sense that–” His head snaps up. “Wait, so you didn’t want to–”

“Stop.” You gently rap your knuckles on his forehead. He cracks a smile, ridiculous as the motion is to him, and you smile too. “I don’t really like people seeing me scared, so I don’t do anything that might make me jumpy in public,” you say. “I’m glad I got to try it though. It was kind of fun.”

“And I made you leave,” he huffs, the smile fading.

“I think it was sweet, that you were keeping an eye on me,” you say. “Though I was probably denting your arm by how hard I was squeezing.”

“I didn’t mind,” he mutters.

It’s your turn to blink. “…Really?” you ask. You like to think that maybe things have been a little flirty from time to time. Natasha certainly thinks so, and acts long-suffering about it, but you’ve never had anything concrete. Now, though, Bucky looks a little shy, and then he…nods.

“Well…” You creep your hand forward on the table, and when he takes it, you dare to hope this is different. “I have plenty of Halloween movies that aren’t horror. Ones that are just fun.”

“Yeah?” He runs his thumb over the back of your hand. “Can I have you on my other arm?”

Your mouth curls into a smile. “You sure you want me clinging?”

He stands, and crooks his arm in your direction. “I can take it,” he says.

You stand, and slip your arm into his. You won’t pick anything that would upset Bucky, but it wouldn’t hurt to find something with at least one good jumpscare. Just for fun.

[avianconcept]

Lucas Johnson, and why he was one of my favorites in TSC.

I see a lot of people hating on him for his reactions + actions towards Jean in TSC, which is fine! Everyone’s allowed to not like characters, and we’re all on Jean’s side! Lucas enabled a really traumatizing and dangerous situation. But I keep seeing these posts referring to him as an asshole who Jean should have revenge of some sort on, and I’m like ??? 

I thought Lucas had one of the most interesting arcs in TSC, and tied in really well with one of the central messages of the story. I think he’s a character who is in a lot of distress that he is unprepared to handle, and is still seeking the painful truth. Yes he was a dick to Jean several times, but I don’t think this makes him an Evil Antagonist or a little shit or whatever else he is referred to as. I found Lucas and Jean’s plotline to be one of the most compelling in the whole book. It made me think about how much knowing the truth matters, even if it can’t change the scenario. This is going to be a long and unstructured mess that is sort of about Lucas, sort of about the Ravens vs Trojans, sort of about themes. I apologize in advance, but this has been kicking around in my brain since I finished TSC the day it came out. 

I’m going to start with the straightforward bit: why I personally think Lucas is over-hated, and why I liked him. 

I think most of it comes from the fact that we as readers forget that not all characters are operating with the same information and perspective that we are. Our perception of the situation is informed by Jean’s POV– in a lot of ways, his perception is ours. So we have known from pretty much minute one that Jean isn’t an asshole, that the rumors about him aren’t true, and that Grayson is a serial rapist. So when we see Lucas not believing Jean, questioning him or calling him a whore, we see it the way Jean sees it: a nosy, rude, foolish man who is going out of his way to make Jean’s and his own life difficult unnecessarily. 

But when you think about it from Lucas’ POV, remembering that Lucas does not know the things we know about Jean and Grayson, Lucas’ actions make a lot more sense. 

Imagine, for a moment, that you have an older brother. You grew up together, you played the same sport, you loved him. And then he leaves, and goes no contact out of the blue. You try and try and you can’t get a hold of him, even when you join a college team yourself. But then one day, after his team falls apart, he comes home. He comes home angry and wrong and you can barely recognize him.The only way you can get him to engage with you is about this ex teammate of his. He gets angry, attacks you, hits you until you lose teeth. The rest of his team is being put in inpatient care in psych hospitals. You’re not sure whats wrong with him, only that this is not the brother you loved– there is something very wrong with him, and the only thing he’ll talk about is Jean Moreau. 

I feel like when we see it this way, it isn’t hard to get why Lucas came out so hostile when he met Jean. Jean was already surrounded by this (false, unfair) media perception, and then Grayson talks about how much he hates him. When you bear in mind that Lucas has known Grayson his whole life (minus the last four or so years), and Jean for about two minutes– it doesn’t surprise me that he does not immediately take Jean’s side. I’d even go so far as to say that it would make no sense if he did. ESPECIALLY when from Lucas’ POV, Jean starts saying all of this horrible (true) shit about Grayson, which has got to be a sore spot for Lucas atm. Because Lucas doesn’t understand that 

Sidebar: I don’t say any of this to blame Jean, or say that Lucas is without flaw– I say it because it’s a really well written conflict. In both characters' heads, they’re each making perfect sense. It’s irritating to me in books when the author has thrown in a conflict for drama only, by making two characters hate each other for no reason. This situation is really compelling to read about for this reason. 

I’ve seen a few of takes along the lines of, “How dare Lucas keep pushing Jean for answers/bring Grayson to the Gold Court/not believe Jean when Jean is CLEARLY traumatized.” And I get it– it was painful and frustrating to see him not understand. But also I think we as longtime lovers of AFTG have had ten-ish years to get used to the Foxes, and their understanding of trauma. For them, the parts of trauma that are triggers and erratic behavior and strange boundaries are navigated almost instinctively because it is all of their lived experience. They all (mostly) learned the language of when to push and when to back off because they have areas themselves that they don’t want to be asked about. Though they don’t use therapy speak, and though the way they deal with it often ranges from unorthodox to downright problematic, they have an understanding of the weight of what they’re working around. 

Lucas Johnson does not come from this world. He does not have this understanding– it is likely that the first time he was afraid in his own house was when Grayson came home. Now, compared to how gently and tactfully some of the other Trojans handle Jean, like Jeremy, Cat, and Laila, or even Cody and Xavier knowing to back off about Jean’s scars; Lucas isn’t doing so great. He could have been better. There are a few things to consider though. 

One: None of Jeremy, Cat, Laila, Cody or Xavier have as much of a personal stake in this situation as Lucas does. For them, it's an issue between two teammates, not the brother they’re slowly realizing they don’t know anymore. 

Two: There’s been two instances of drama mentioned, one being whatever Cat’s freshman year drama was, and two being whatever Jeremy’s banquet situation is. So the floozies might actually have a little more of a clue about how to deal with difficult situations. 

Three: Lucas is also undergoing trauma. He had the shit beat out of him by the brother he so desperately wanted back. He’s realizing the brother he loved may actually be dead. That is traumatic and painful and does not make someone act like their best self. 

All of this to say– he goes about the situation in a really indelicate, inexperienced way, makes some really bad judgment calls, and I think that makes a ton of sense! 

ANYWAYS. God. 

The reason I think Lucas ties in really well with one of the main messages of TSC is how he reacts as he finds out more and more about Grayson. In his final conversation with Jean, he is grieving, afraid, and in shock, but he is willing to accept that Grayson is not the man he knew anymore– that Grayson turned into something horrific. 

Lucas, upon realizing this new information, doesn’t cling onto his old world view. He doesn’t try to find ways to spin it to keep his brother in the right and Jean in the wrong. He faces the evidence in front of him, and makes an effort to realign his perspective with what he now understands the truth to be. Put a pin in that for a second. 

One of the messages of TSC seems to be that to look away when you know something malignant is going on is an act of violence. 

Jeremy is the one who outright says it, I will not look away, but that sentiment is echoed in the actions of so many characters. Cat and Laila’s continued rejection of Jean’s scrimmages excuse for his injuries. Neil looking for more than a second at the state Jean was in after Grayson’s attack and realizing something was wrong. Lisinski not brushing off Jean’s reaction to the water and banning him from swimming, to keep him from doing it anyway. Xavier, Cat and Cody’s reactions to Jean's scars. Over and over again we see people refuse to look away. 

Think about the Nest, about the sexual assaults Jean’s freshman year. The backliners who assaulted him all knew Riko put them up to it, but none of them ever said it outright. This implies that everyone outside of the backline doesn’t know. Jean caused a stir because of his age and how quickly he changed partners– which means the Ravens knew he was sixteen. The Ravens, though they are psychologically screwed now, came from normal lives. Even though they didn’t know about Riko’s involvement, at least a few likely understood the concept of statutory rape. We know Thea at least saw what was going on, we know Zane KNEW about the assaults, Kevin apparently understands ‘half the truth’; either way, at a certain point, metaphorically or literally, they all turned away from the truth. 

This extends to Riko’s abuse of Jean and Kevin, too. Jean mentions that he and Kevin went to great lengths to hide what Riko was doing to them from the Ravens. But, given the level of forced proximity on the team, I think that even with these layers of secrets, it isn’t insane to think that the Ravens likely saw clues. They apparently knew Riko was violent. They know Tetsuji is, so really, how big of a stretch would it be? In Lazarus, Renee notices that Zane sounds hesitant when he says that Jean was with Riko, which implies that he does have a clue what's going on in that sense.

I don’t say all of this under the impression that the Ravens could have stood up to Riko or Tetsuji, or put a stop to much of it. I say this to point out the significance of the truth, and acknowledging or avoiding it. 

The point is– for these lies to work, for the story to hold, everyone around them had to reach a point of Looking Away. 

Looking away from someone in distress and accepting the simple narrative is easy, but the right thing is always to not look away. To keep looking until you see the whole picture, because the person you’re looking at is worth it. Even if it can change nothing, the truth matters.

To me, Lucas does this! When you think about it from his POV, he has SO MUCH MORE of a reason to believe Grayson. He was a reason to want Grayson’s version to be true. If Grayson is telling the truth, then Jean is a whore and an asshole and maybe, just maybe, Lucas can still have his brother back. Sure, Grayson’s hurt him, but that could just be stress and Raven related trauma. Not acknowledging that Grayson has crossed irredeemable lines leaves the door open for Lucas to keep the version of his brother that he dearly loves and misses. It would be easier for him to double down, to deny and defend. To buy the easy, common story  And yet he doesn’t. He questions and starts to see his brother differently- he BELIEVES that his brother could be different than the man who left four years ago. He does not blind himself to the things he's seeing and hearing in favor of holding onto some false, memory version of Grayson. To me, that takes an immense strength of character, and a commitment to what is right.  And that is why Lucas was one of my favorite

[renren-006]

Keep Her Safe Pt. 2 | Daryl Dixion x Fem Reader

PART 1: Keep Her Safe A/n: hehehe enjoy part two for those who want to know what Dary would do if you were hurt

Everyone wonders what Daryl would do to someone, or the world if you got hurt. It wasn't too long after you arrived at Alexandra where they learned what would happen. 

When you got back from the run, blood covering your arm and chest Daryl swung at the first person he saw with your blood coating their skin.

“You” He has said, pounding his fist into the guy's face. You were too weak to help and the blood loss barely let you stand up without one of the girls' help. Rick pulled Daryl off the man, he himself was also pissed about you getting hurt. 

“The hell happened?” the first question out of Rick's mouth, the man stuttered. The look of anger on Daryl's face was enough to make the man want to run. Daryl looked down at the knife in the man's pocket, your blood seeped out from the pouch.

“There was a walker, he freaked out and thought she got bit,” the girl said. Rick checked your wound realizing it was a nife slash instead of a bite. Your birthmark peeked out from your tank top next to the knife wound. “Her birthmark?” Rick asked. “He thought it was a bite,” you told Rick. “he's dehydrated and new he didn't know”

“Dont excuse it” Daryl said. “He almost killed her”

“I know.” Rick said. “Well deal with him” 

Daryl took you from the other girl's arms carried you to the health house and had you stitched up. Part of your shirt was ripped and hanging off you, leaving your bra to be the only thing covering you. The birthmark was red and bloody, leaving you with a long scar from it to your chest. Daryl sat on the steps of the house awaiting you. 

“I'm fine ya know,” you told him, causing him to jump up from the stars. He looked at your stitches. “Will make a cool scar don't you think? Can add it to the list” 

You had a few scars from over the year, Daryl always felt guilty for everyone you had. Your biggest one happened when the prison fell, leaving you with a gaping wound on your thigh stretching the entire length. You remember that night being the most pain you had ever been in, and Darly had to stitch you up while Beth was crying at the sight. There were other scars and near-death experiences both of you had gone through, and still, it never got easier for Darly to handle.

“I hate seein ya like this” he said. 

“D…” “Nah nah dont brush it off this time” he asaid, “ya keep”

“What? Living? Almost dying?” you asked. “Daryl, look at the world we live in”

“Your infuriating” he said stomping off into the street. The light in the sky was fading, the sun having started its descent into night. 

“Me? How about you? Punching him, yelling”

“I was trying to protect ya” “I don't need it” you told him turning him around to face you in the street. “I don't need to be protected, I can take care of myself. I just…I love you and if I get hurt I worry about how you react every time”

“I love ya too. Its why…i need to protect ya”

“And I need you to trust me” you told him. He lowered his head and nodded.

“I do” he told you sincerely.

“Then let me handle things. Ill let you know when ya need to step in”

You didn't know it but what everyone thought was that while you were tough and could handle yourself, you were off limits. No one was to threaten you or else they would have to deal with Daryl, and he loved it. He loved the fact that he had this effect on people and that he could protect you this way. He can stay out of your way, but he wasn't going to stop acting like if anyone touched you they were dead. He learned to be sneaky about his threats.

[jade-efflorescence]

let me have tonight, you put color in my black and white

spy x family | forger family & twilight/yor forger | rated g

ao3

As Yor, Loid, and Anya enter their apartment, a bit of the autumn chill trails behind them, as if it were a stray cat refusing to leave their side. Yor hefts a bag of brown sugar across her shoulder, while Loid balances a full carton of eggs and a paper sack of groceries. Anya darts forward, a jar of peanut butter tucked into her arm as she shouts a greeting to Bond’s resting figure. Bond lifts his head in interest, letting out an acknowledging whine.

“Can I have the peanut butter, Miss Anya?” Yor asks her. She receives a bright smile and the said jar in return. Loid smiles over the small habit���even when they have more than solidified their connections to one another, his wife never fails to be kind. Classic Yor. 

His smile remains as the three of them work side by side in the kitchen, laying out the flour and salt and sugar from their cartons and cabinets—a little treasure hunt until they are ready to bake. He feels Yor’s breaths on the shell of his ear, and Anya’s hyperactive presence brushing against his side. Not for the first time, he feels that this is the most precious mission he’s been on.

“What are we thinking this evening?" he asks them, moving towards their radio in the living room. “Jazz? Swing? Something else?”

He observes his wife examining the recipe card through their little kitchen window. He can’t help his smile as his daughter hops on her tiptoes to peer at it too. 

“Anything sounds lovely,” Yor answers, tossing him the smile that makes his heart beat a bit faster.

“A surprise it is, then.” He turns on the radio and flips through several channels before settling on one with an upbeat acoustic melody. He turns up the volume and heads back to his family’s side, humming a few notes he picks out of the chorus. 

The kitchen becomes a symphony of soft words, baking utensils, and laughter. Loid takes care of the dry ingredients, while Yor and Anya handle the liquid ones. Yor hovers behind Anya, guiding her to measure out the butter, salt, and sugar with sweet-spoken instructions. As Anya levels out the last bit of peanut butter, Loid reaches for the eggs, cracking some shells and adding the yolks to their bowl before paying attention to finishing his own.

He brings the flour closer to him, gesturing for Anya to open it when she and Yor finish their part of the recipe. His daughter opens the top, gasping in surprise when a cloud of flour rises out of the bag. On impulse, he drags a finger across the edge of the flour sack and dabs a bit on her nose. He relishes in her delighted giggle. 

“Mama should want flour on her face too,” she tells him. “Then we can be matching!” Loid holds back a chuckle at her antics because of course that’s what she’d want him to do.

Yor glances at him with widened eyes, a charming pink blush splashing across her cheeks. How endearing. He loves her so much. 

“Oh!” she gasps. “I—”

“You do, do you?” he jumps in, giving her a playful smirk. “Well, I have just the solution.”

She laughs and darts away from his outstretched, flour-coated fingers, only to have several brush her forehead a second later. “I got you, sweetheart,” he chuckles, reaching to wipe the remaining powder on the dip of her waist.

“Hmm, are you sure?” she replies, grabbing his hand and smearing the flour still coating it against his cheek. He can’t bring himself to tame his smile as he looks at her, letting himself grin widely instead of sharpening its edges. For a second he feels like that child again, the one running with his old friends unconcerned with peril and peace—although younger him never experienced the gift of Yor’s presence.

(Somehow, even on separate paths, he’s certain that they would have met someday, and grown inexplicably close to one another.)

“I suppose you’ve overtaken me, darling,” he replies, warmth flaring in him at all the other memories that exist between them.

As much as a younger part of him would have loved to cover the whole area in flour, the older part of him recognizes it would have made baking a distraction rather than a goal, so he settles for this tiny indulgence. 

“Shall we combine the dough and find a few caramel candies to put in it?” he wonders aloud, redirecting their focus. “Or I have a caramel-making method that might work.” 

(It’s been a while since Twilight took on the visage of a confectioner, but he figures he remembers enough to avoid burning anything.)

His love hesitates, her gaze darting towards the cabinet as she thinks. “We have a few candies left over, but not enough for more than a tray. If you wouldn’t mind?”

He’s close enough to peck her temple this time. “Always.”

The radio channel turns to a swing number as Anya and Yor combine and knead the cookie dough, rolling up spheres to set on the silver baking sheet. At the same time Loid busies himself near the stove, stirring sugar, butter, and cream into a molten syrup. The mixture bubbles in the pan and shifts into a golden, chestnut hue. The sweet richness of its scent mingles in the air as he pours it on the imprinted dough and slides the drizzled tray inside the oven.

Anya watches an episode of Spy Wars as the desserts bake—gasping at the dramatic moments, hugging Bond’s neck during the suspenseful parts, and calling out encouragement to Bondman as he escapes the dastardly plot of the day. Yor and Loid sit on the couch so closely they meld into one soft, affectionate whole. Loid lays his head against Yor’s shoulder. Yor intertwines her fingers with his. They are two glowing gold threads, woven together like rope. Their shared, precious peace is evident in the silence of their being, in the way they steal a quick, adoring kiss when Anya and Bond are occupied with their show.

How wonderfully loved is he now, that peace feels like an opportunity rather than a rarity.

Yor hums a bit to the tune of the jazz ballad in the background, the radio turned quieter for Anya’s fun. He closes his eyes and listens to her gentle alto, remembering a similar night under a drunken haze and the glare of a streetlight. If anything, he’s become even weaker to the sound of her voice than the past hint of an old lullaby—what an unexpected, wondrous thing.

It seems as if the leaves changing to scarlet and gold outside their apartment reflect his own state of mind, for Agent Twilight has done the unthinkable. He has morphed into a being outside of a war-shadowed, battle-born changeling. He no longer feels trapped by all that ever could be, nor by past bouts of betrayal and burdens. He is not defined by his willingness to become forgettable, and it is as distressing as it is exhilarating, carving a new existence out of brittle wood. He can only hope that he has learned enough from the ghosts of his former self, and that Anya will never have to experience such a twisting terror.

“Should I get up and make some soup, or will we make Anya eat cookies for dinner?” Yor whispers in his ear with a laugh.

His response is to tug her closer to his side, wrapping an arm around her waist.

“Five more minutes, sweetheart? Please?”

“Mmm, are you sure it’s only five?”

“I’m very sure, of course. Completely.”

“Uh-huh. You’re cute.”

“Have you looked in a mirror recently? Because that would say otherwise, I think.”

“Charmer.”

“Darling.”

“Insufferable.”

“Love.”

[cringefailcabitha]

Cabby and Bot in Spring on the Breakfast!

I've been thinking about Spring on the Breakfast and the clumsy way it handles Cabby's memory disorder and how that handling makes it a little harder to deal with what is going on between Cabby and Bot. And I kind of want to share my interpretation of some of what was going on:

By the beginning of Spring on the Breakfast, Cabby has been back in the game for 3 challenges, her return coming 2 episodes after Bot discovers the circumstances surrounding their creation. At this point, most of the remaining contestants, Bot included, do not see Cabby in a positive light. In particular, Bot's opinions about Cabby are heavily informed by what Test Tube has told them about her, and the general attitude of the other contestants towards her. Cabby, on her part, only figures out the circumstances of Bot's creation somewhere during episodes 11 and 13, and the two spend little time together before Spring on the Breakfast. Though not for lack of trying, Bot continues to be the contestant Cabby knows the least about by far, and that's what they are both working with when they are paired up for the Springtastic challenge. Let’s skip ahead a bit:

And Cabby obliges. Now, on one hand, there is an attitude towards Cabby and the files in the show that goes almost completely unchallenged up to this point that initially makes this scene feel like it's just piling onto that. Bot has already shared false information with Cabby under the impression that she doesn't care about them as a person, so this scene feels like a continuation of that thought process; an insinuation that Cabby immediately moving to write down Bot's words is an uncaring, or at least misguided gesture.

On the other hand, we can consider why Bot responds the way they do to Cabby's question. Firstly, the fact that they are willing to answer this question at all is notable and indicative of their changing opinions about Cabby. Bot quickly becomes defensive when Cabby questions the dissonance between Test Tube's presence upsetting them enough to hide from her, and the positive relationship she thought they had. This moment makes it clearer how reluctant Bot is to confront how they feel about Test Tube. (Small note but I think that even though Cabby wasn't there for The Confrontation in episode 8 and never worked with "Bot" before episode 14, one could argue that Cabby of all people having zero clue about Bot's complicated feelings towards Test Tube is also testament to their aversion to admitting it). So of course in the moment they don't want Cabby to write it down because it's intensely personal for them and they are ashamed for even feeling that way about the people who created them in the first place. Additionally, Cabby has said multiple times in previous episodes that she will share any information she has if asked; In this instance it's not unreasonable that Bot ends up requesting this.

Cabby, when asked, then shares some intensely personal information of her own, that she, too, has never shared with anyone else. This sort of exchange is common when forming an emotional bond with someone and I think it's the point where Bot goes from just doubting the negative things Test Tube and others have said about Cabby to fully deciding those things weren't true, While also starting to feel a lot safer around her. And at this point they share more about themselves, without Cabby writing any of it down. Afterwards:

This. It's very reasonable to be put off by the way this scene is framed, knowing that Cabby needs the files to remember things. It gives the impression that Cabby no longer using the files since the people around her can just remind her of things would be a positive thing. Which is an unpleasant message that encourages her to give up her independent nature and leave a lot of her perception of events up to the whims of the people around her. In fact, Cabby's takeaway from her interactions with Bot leads to her deciding not to rely on her files in the subsequent episode, in service of not making others uncomfortable, and even with encouragement she seeks permission from Bot to use her files.

However, one can also view this scene as Bot trying to convey they feel safe and comfortable enough around Cabby to want her to write about them. Not as them saying, "I'll tell you again so you don't need to write it down", but as them saying, "I'll tell you again so you can write it down". It is frustratingly indirect, as Bot tends to be at times, so it isn't a very obvious way to take it, but Bot seemingly having prepared a new folder for Cabby to write about them in between their elimination and Blue Buried supports this idea. Further, in preparing that folder, Bot tries to engage with Cabby on her level and show that they want to understand her, instead of further convincing Cabby that she can only make friends if she stops relying on her files that she needs, that she enjoys writing, and that are an important part of her identity. Bot choosing to get closer to Cabby is also a symbol of them breaking away from the expectations Test Tube places on them in that doing so directly contradicts Test Tube's sentiment towards Cabby and desire to keep Bot away from her. Test Tube keeping Bot away from Cabby in previous episodes is meant to be seen as part of Test Tube trying to hide the truth from Bot, and Bot deciding to form a bond with Cabby irrespective of what Test Tube thinks about her can be seen as them accepting and welcoming the truth. All of these things are important for Bot to do as a character whose development is centered around them finding and being proud of their own identity.

And in a way, if you interpret this scene as Bot wanting Cabby to write about them, it is also representative of Bot becoming more secure in their identity. Cabby's goal is to keep accurate data, and though she can and does change that data when new information becomes available to her, the act itself of writing things down can make things feel more concrete. So Bot inviting Cabby to write about them next time almost becomes an invitation to have that information be "official" because they feel surer about who they are,

[silverjirachi]

I need to buy more used clothes instead of just defaulting to like walmart and target but why does every thrift store in america have to have the most assaulting energy of anything you’ve ever seen

[canisalbus]

have vasco & machete ever gotten into any big arguments?

.

[thedreadvampy]

sometimes I forget that my experience has been. um. not 'your experiences are not universal' vibes but more like 'your experiences are EXTREMELY atypical'

[moeblob]

Rey, who is in my very biased opinion, one of the funniest "girls" I have because she's just a guy, truly. Like Rey is just short for Reynold because he was recruited by a a goddess to help the hero she selected and the hero is conveniently Reynold's younger brother. So he agrees to help under the condition that the goddess gives him a female body for the other world. She's like "really odd flex but whatever" and gives him a female form and he's like "you know. I can't really blame anyone but myself for not specifying 'please don't turn me into a Lisa Frank personification'."

[froschli96]

you know, i always find it really funny when dudebros complain about syndicate and odyssey being too "jokey" or not "taking its characters seriously" or whatever…

like, did y'all collectively sleep through "it's-a me, mario!", "i meant besides vaginas", ezio inventing the latte, bartolomeo's... just... *gestures vaguely* entire character, etc?

like, it's fine to have preferences of course, i myself prefer a more serious and grounded tone, but these are usually the same people who tout the ezio trilogy as "peak assassin's creed", call ac1 a glorified tech demo and hate on connor for being "too serious and boring", like? make it make sense!

[misspickman]

transfem kon proposal could have been good if was good

[gawy-in]

mouf

[ikolit]

that strange new worlds had the episode premise of having Spock temporarily turned fully human and then managed to miss in every aspect of his characterization and how that would affect his relationship with the rest of the crew is truly amazing