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fangisms · 10 months

Note

HEYY so I love your writing and have been stalking your account since yesterday 🤭 I checked and I saw ur request were open so I figured I’d shoot my shot and send a request but if you’re not interested it’s totally fine !!

I saw that you don’t have Harry on ur master list so idk if you take request for him? So I won’t request smth for him here but if you do write for him pls lmk !!

Ok now my actual request, can you write smth for Theodore Nott x fem!reader where reader is like tough and usually goes against the grain of what other people are doing and for once she decides to actually go to a party when a Some Guy starts hitting on her and she’s like obviously very not into it Theo confronts the guy and gets into a fight with him.

Like maybe they’ve known each other since they were young and when they got to hogwarts they grew apart bc they were in different houses but Theo has been like hardcore crushing on her for years lol. And like after he gets into the fight she cleans him up in the bathroom and is all like “you didn’t have to do that I can take care of myself” and he’s all like “yah I know” but feeling smug bc she’s blushing or smth and he’s all happy bc yah it’s been a while but maybe he still has a chance and doesn’t just have to watch her from afar forever 🤭

SORRY this is so long but I have been having Theo brain rot and this idea has been floating in my head for a couple days now

respectable fisticuffs

A/N: yk what i didn’t think i would but i WILL write for harry, send it in anon 🫂 also this request is so good pls gif cred: @possession

Pairings: Theodore Nott x Fem!Non-Slytherin!Reader

Summary: Battered and bruised, Theo misses you like hell and now seems like a great time to tell you. 1.5k words

Warnings: fluff, theo gets in a physical fight, unsolicited flirting, cursing, tw blood/wounds, kissing, lots of ‘bellissima’, soo much pining

"What's she doing here?" Mattheo welcomes Pansy with a kiss on the cheek, leering at you like he's amused by your presence.

"I convinced her to show up, so pretty please don't scare her away," Pansy coos, patting him on the shoulder before disappearing towards the couches.

"It’s a your lucky day," he huffs, guiding you towards the sound of drunken laughter and song. "I know someone who's dying to see you."

"Don't we all," you tease. By the looks of it, he's leading you into the belly of the beast—a group of Slytherin boys crowded around a brassy gramophone. "So, who exactly is dying to see me?"

"Don’t play dumb, sweetheart... you know who," he whispers before slinking off to find a drink.

"Mattheo!" you shout, "Coglione." Maybe you should hunt Pansy down. She's the one who forced you to come after all, she deserves to bear witness to your misery.

Theo had no idea you were coming. If he had, he might've tried a little harder to impress. You look just as beautiful as the last time you ignored him, and it's not helping his crush in the slightest. Over the years, he's grown a real talent for watching you from afar. Since the sorting hat took you away from him, it's all he can do any more, and suffice to say, he misses you like hell even now.

As he's mulling it over in his head, you glance over at him. He thinks your gaze will dart away like it always does while he take a drag of his cigarette. But you wave. You hold up your hand and wave. At him. And he nods back like some nonchalant idiot. He loves the way your eyes always seem to sparkle just before you look away.

Theo waits until you've visibly relaxed to approach you. And just as he's mustering up the courage to leave his chair, Graham Montague spills his drink down your shirt.

"Shit," Graham pants, stumbling forward and clasping onto your waist for dear life. He looks down at your top—or rather, down your top—and chuckles to himself. "Might actually be an improvement."

"You smell like piss," you say. He palms your shoulder and laughs, leaning closer to mumble low in your ear.

"Does that mean you like it?" His fingers flex against your collar bone and trail up the length of your neck. You want to vomit.

Just then, his body falls limp to the ground with a thud, and you gasp, turning to see Theo looming beside you.

"Theo!" you shout, but he gently sweeps you aside, falling to his knees and taking a fistful of Graham's soiled collar.

"Get off of me—ow, prick," Graham whines, clawing at Theo's shoulder and reaching to scratch at his face. Theo slams his back hard against the floorboards with a sharp inhale before landing a punch to his face. Graham lets out a yelp and whimpers when Theo stands above him. Theo presses his boot to the palm of Graham's hand.

"Go near her again, and you'll lose your hand entirely," Theo seethes. Mattheo finally yanks him away with a snicker, guiding him to the stairwell. But not before Theo shouts, "Mangia merde e morte."

"Alright, dickhead, I think you've made your point," Mattheo says, squeezing Theo's shoulders as his eyes zip back and forth wildly, looking any and everywhere he can.

"Where is she?"

"Calm down—"

"Mattheo, you know where she is. Tell me," he huffs. If it weren't for the haunted look in his eye, Mattheo would've kept his mouth shut. But he knows how bad his friend needs this. How bad he needs you.

"She's upstairs. Told her she could borrow our bathroom."

"Sei come un fratello per me, thank you," Theo whispers.

"Yeah, yeah," Mattheo says, "you owe me one." Theo leaves him a kiss on the cheek before taking the steps two at a time.

The light from the boys' bathroom seeps through the crack in the door. It's the only light in the whole dorm, and he can see your shadow as it crosses back and forth. He feels like he's out on the field before a championship game or about to take an exam he didn't study for. His hands feel weak when he reaches for the doorknob.

He presses his ear to the door before opening it any further. "May I come in?"

You shuffle around, and he hears you approach the door on tender foot. He can't take the way you open the door and stand back like you're faced with some predator. He hasn't spoken to you in so long, all he wants is to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Theo?" you say, shutting the door behind him as he goes to sit on the closed toilet seat.

"Don't say that," he says, carding his fingers through his hair. He groans at the pain shooting up his fingers.

You look over him softly. Subtly, so he won't notice, but he's gotten good at noticing you.

"Are you hurt?"

He looks at his knuckles, sprinkled with blood, and feels for the scrape on his cheek.

"No—"

He doesn't have time to explain himself before you're kneeling at his side, dabbing a cold towel against his jaw and tilting his chin up.

"It's worse than you think, Theo," you hum, pressing the damp cloth to the column of his neck as he swallows.

"It's nothing I can't handle."

"You idiot," you say. He hisses when you hold his jaw and turn his head, wiping the shallow gash on his cheek. Most of the blood is not his, which is a good sign. That doesn't stop you from wanting to yell at him, though. He can tell with the way you're frowning as you wet the dried blood on his warm skin.

"I had it under control, you know,” you say.

He can't help but smile at your determination. He always admired that about you. Too stubborn for your own good. And his.

"I know."

Your eyes drift across his brow, narrowly avoiding the eye contact he so craves. He drinks in the curve of your lashes, the sweetness of your cheek, the way your thigh is pushed against his knee.

"He was harmless. And drunk. And you should’ve known better."

"I know," he huffs. You toss the pink-tinged towel into the bowl of the sink.

"We're not kids anymore, I don't need you to protect me." You stay knelt at his feet, focused on your knees digging into the cold tile. It makes you sad to think about you and him like this. You used to be friends. Best friends, in fact, the kind of friends adults would say were 'joined at the hip'. You used to cry over being sorted into different houses, but you got over it. That's life. You figured he moved on and so should you. Maybe neither of you moved on in the end.

"Look at me." His voice startles you out of your thoughts, and you meet his soft green eyes.

"Bellissima..."

"You are such an idiot," you huff. Theo looks down at you like he's been waiting to all his life. Like he's been cursing that very first day since it happened.

"I miss you," he coos, fingers twitching where they're rested on his knees. "I miss having you close to me."

"That's not fair."

"Not fair?"

You look away. "No."

"How?"

Oh, and you hate the way he smiles when he knows he's about to get what he wants. He knows exactly how to get you flustered. That's exactly why he was your first kiss. And your second.

"Come on, bellissima... tell me you miss me," he whispers, leaning his elbows onto his knees to be closer to you. To have his nose brush the tip of your own. He craves the shape of your mouth now more than ever.

Then you look at him. Him and his dastardly grin, how the charm pours out of him in gobs. The hair sweeping across his forehead and how you always catch him looking at you how he is now. Innocent and longing. Like you’re beautiful. Like you’re his again.

“Of course I miss you,” you sob, reaching out to cup his face in your hands, “I miss you, Theo.”

“Oh, bella,” he says, fitting himself into your arms, knees pressed to either side of your own as he slides to the floor. You shudder against his body, and he holds you tighter. “I never want to be without you.”

You pull away just to look at him, his face, the way time has changed him. He has his hands on your waist when you lean in to kiss his cheek. His eyes flutter closed and he waits for another. You swipe your thumb where you’d just pressed your lips, and you kiss the corner of his mouth. He smiles, eyes still gently shut as he manouvres his fingertips to the curve of your bottom lip. And you kiss him.

masterlist

#theo nott #theodore nott #theo nott x fem!reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott fanfic #theo nott fluff #theodore nott x fem!reader #theodore nott x reader #theodore nott fanfic #theodore nott fluff #fanfic #fluff #hp universe #x reader #fanfiction #x fem!reader

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7ndipity · 7 months

Text

Them With An Autistic S/o

Ot7 x Reader

Summary: How the members would handle/react to their S/o being on the spectrum.

Warnings: Mentions of sensory issues, feeling over/under stimulated, depression, meltdowns, stimming.

A/N: Thanks to the lovely anon who requested this! This is a list I’ve actually wanted to write for a while, but I’d been slightly nervous/unsure about it. But as someone who’s also on the spectrum, I know how much comfort similar posts from other blogs have brought me! I also tried to keep this one a bit lighter, since someone asked for a separate list about meltdowns/shutdowns, but if there’s any specific reactions/hcs like this that you guys want, let me know! (Please note that these are based off my own knowledge/experience, so I’m sorry if they don’t fit for everyone)

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

Jin:

I feel like he’d be slightly confused and worried at first because he’s not sure what to do/how to help you, but once you explain a bit more, he gets a lot more comfortable, and really is such a good caregiver when he needs to be.

Catches onto your different stims pretty quickly and what each one means.

Like, y’all have whole conversations solely through funny little hums and stim noises.

Really good at reading and matching your mood/energy. You wanna talk about the Mayans nonstop for two hours? Cool! You want to just sit silently and do nothing? Also cool!

He’s really good at normalizing your symptoms and making them seem like nbd(because to him, they aren’t) Food sensitivities? He’s got them too! You hate loud noises and crowds? Same Honey, let’s get the fuck outta here! He knows they’re not quite the same thing, of course, but if it makes you feel more comfortable and safe being your true, unmasked self with him, then that’s all that matters to him.

Really good at calming you down when you feel overwhelmed or on the verge of meltdown.

Does his absolute best to bring your mood up whenever you’re struggling or feeling really down, pulling out his best dad jokes(even if they don’t make sense to you), bringing your favorite snacks, etc.

Yoongi:

I think he would handle it really well. Does his research after you tell him, and asks you about it casually during dates/hangouts.

So fucking respectful of your boundries. If you prefer to have your own space, he’s totally fine letting you do your own thing. If you need more closeness and cuddles, he’s all over that too, letting you sit right next to him while he works.

Not only lets you rant about your special interests, but makes the effort to take interest in them and asks questions. Randomly buys you little things related to them.

He’s so calming and soothing when you’re feeling stressed or overstimulated, understanding whenever you randomly need rest or quiet time(stress nap buddies)

Keeps things like extra sunglasses and headphones in his bag for you, just in case you forget yours.

Would have a lot of fun if you have audio stims, letting you listen to his new songs because your reactions and enthusiasm are so cute to him. Makes you panning audios as gifts.

Always there to look out for you whenever executive dysfunction decides to kick your ass. Washes the dishes, doing the laundry, restocking your safe foods, etc. He would also be really good at body doubling.

Hobi:

I honestly think he would be really good with an S/O on the spectrum. Like, he literally designed Mang, who is soo ND coded like omg😭, so I think he would be able to understand you really well.

(if you haven’t seen the videos of him talking about Mang’s personality and character traits during the re-design process last year, pls go watch them, I almost cried)

Loves buying you new fidgets and stim toys whenever he finds new ones to try(he even has a collection of chewlery that he wears bc he thinks they’re neat).

Is really good reading you and distracting you when you start to get overstimulated or anxious, sometimes noticing before you do.

Lowkey protective over you in spaces and situations he knows are stressful for you, positioning himself next to you whenever he spots things he knows bother you.

You know how Yoongi described him as a vitamin? That’s how it is for you now too.💛

He’s so stimmy himself, so he would find a lot of your stims really relatable and endearing. Like, if you start happy stimming, he can’t help but join right in, bouncing or squealing with you. It makes him so happy that you feel comfortable enough with him to share those parts of yourself with him.

Namjoon:

Instantly super supportive when you told him, making an effort to research on his own, as well as listening to your personal experiences to understand as much as possible.

Happily sits and lets you info-dump about your special interests. He honestly loves seeing you so passionate and animated about whatever you’re talking about and loves getting a glimpse into how your mind works(it was probably during one of these moments that he realized he was in love with you)

Surprisingly good pebbler, he’s always finding cool rocks or shells for your collections.

Doesn’t mind speaking for you on days when you’re nonverbal.

The sweetest when you’re feeling overstimulated. He closes all the curtains to make it dark and cozy and sits with you, talking as softly as needed or not talking at all, tapping your hand gently now and then to let you know he’s still there.

Soo protective over you, almost to a fault at times. Like, you might have to scold him once or twice about babying you, but he really doesn’t mean to, he just wants to make sure you’re safe and happy.

The world feels a lot less scary tho with him next you. You know if you need anything, he’s got your back.

Jimin:

The softest boi🥺 He was honestly a little scared when you first told him, because he didn’t want to do anything wrong and was worried he wouldn’t be ‘good’ at looking after you, but he quickly relaxed and grew more confident as he learned more from you.

The best comforter when you’re feeling overwhelmed or depressed, full of quiet reassurances and long hugs(if you’re okay with those). He’ll gladly cuddle with you under your weighted blanket for however long you need to feel better.

Literally set up a little “nest” for you at his place with a like beanbag chair and your favorite types of blankets/pillows, so you have your own place to just ‘be’ and recoup when you need it.

Carries fidget toys and sensory aids like sunglasses and headphones with him at all times, just in case you need them.

Really good at communicating with you on days when you’re nonverbal, whether through texts or little notes(which he always adds little doodles on to make your smile😊)

Makes sure you never feel guilty or like a burden to him for letting him in on those tougher days. If anything, they make him love you even more because of the trust you have in him.

It really makes him feel so proud and happy inside that you find so much comfort in his presence and that he gets to take care of you.💜

Taehyung:

Another that I think would be particularly good with a neurodivergent S/O. Like, everyone jokes about how he’s weird, so I think he’d love that you’re both your kind of own unique kinds of ‘weird’.

Happily rewatches your favorite comfort shows/films with you, and speaks in fluent film quotes with you.

Loves when you fidget and stim with his hands or fingers.

If you like pressure stims, he’s a dream come true. Like, the man’s a living weighted blanket, so when you basically give him a doctor's note for cuddles? He’s never gonna let you go.

As relaxed as he might come across sometimes tho, he’s super observant of your stims and triggers and takes it so seriously whenever you start feeling overwhelmed or stressed.

It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing, if you need a break, he’s getting you to a quiet place where you can sit and just recalibrate.

Rivals Jin and Yoongi for top spot in the acts of service department on your bad days, making sure you eat properly, doing any household chores that need done. He even learned how to wash your weighted blanket so you don’t have to.

Jungkook:

Was definitely a little lost and overwhelmed when you first explained everything to him, but he really takes it in stride and tries to learn as much as possible to help make things easier for you where he can.

The King of comfort squeezes. Like you’ve seen his arms, he gives the best hugs, I just know it(especially on those “the weighted blanket isn't enough, I need a hydraulic press” days)

Loves learning about your special interests. Like, It’s no longer just your special interest, it’s our special interest. He’s even studying and finding things for it on his own to surprise you with.

Honestly plays with some of your fidget toys more than you do, lol! You might even end up giving him a few of his favorites😊

Gets super happy and smiley whenever you get echolalia of his songs.

Another member of the protective squad, ain’t no bad stimuli getting to his baby if he can help it!

The gentlest with you when you're overstimulated or having a tough day. Anything you need, he’ll do without question. All he cares about is making sure that you feel safe and comfortable🥺

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

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trashmouth-richie · 1 year

Text

eddie x fem! reader

masterlist

w/c 7.8k

summary: things heat up in more ways than one for the roommates, thanksgiving makes everyone thankful.

warnings: NO MINORS, language, fighting, mentions of child neglect, mentions of murder

a/n: thank you to my beta readers: @jo-harrington @sweetsweetjellybean pls check out their work they are both so amazingly talented 🩵 thank you to @blueywrites for screaming with me on certain parts of this story + @fracturedarkness for helping me plan future parts for this series.

again— I’m no longer doing a tag list for this series— this week as really opened my eyes to a bunch of shit in this world and I’m fucking pissed off about it.

“Do you think it’s enough food? Last year Mike ate all the mashed potatoes so I’m just hoping there is enough for everyone.”

The holidays were always a stressful time for most people, housewives stressing over meal planning, guest lists and matching outfits for their Christmas cards—ones that coordinated well and hid the fact that they were miserable with their lazy, limp dick husbands. Poor Nancy fell into that category all too well.

She’s walking circles around her dining room table, counting the dishes on her fingers. Ham, turkey, cheesy potatoes, mashed potatoes, sweet potato casserole, corn, green bean casserole, a relish tray, strawberry fluff, gravy, two pumpkin pies, two pecan pies, a jello mold, two dozen caramel Rice Krispie bars, a pan of iced banana bars, and one can of jellied cranberry sauce on a crystal plate.

When Nancy asked you to join the Wheeler/Byers/Hopper’s gang for thanksgiving this year, you quickly accepted the invitation, asking if there was anything you could bring. She requested you bring the dessert. So the night before Thanksgiving, you started the tedious task of keeping Eddie from eating all the icing and caramel.

“Eddie! Have you seen the caramels I just bought? They were on the counter next to the flour canister.”

“Nope! Haven’t theen ‘em,” he answers all too quickly, “you thur you bought ‘em?”

“Yes I’m su—,”

Goddamn him.

Walking into the living room you approach the metal head, splayed out on the couch, fingers shoved in his mouth picking at his teeth, “oh Eddie?”

“Mhmm?” He hums, innocently, looking at you with big doe eyes.

“You wouldn’t happen to have caramel stuck in your teeth, the same caramel I bought and said, ‘please don’t eat these they’re for the Rice Krispie bars,’ would you?”

Rose colors his cheeks, “what? Me? Not listening? Ok O’Donnell,” he says with a scoff.

“Eddie,” you say sternly, hip thrown out and arms crossed over your chest.

“Ok! Fine! They were just so fucking good! But I’m dying right now— my teeth feel practically glued together— do we have any floss?!”

“Nance, I think there is more than enough here, you and Jonathan will have leftovers for weeks, months possibly.”

Fretting, Nancy wipes her fidgeting hands on her apron, “I just want it to be perfect— you know how I am.”

Type A, that’s how she was.

“It’ll be perfect, Nancy,” Jonathan agrees, coming up behind her and holding her around her small waist, “just like you.”

Scarlet heat accentuates her rouged cheeks. “Ok ok, no kissing the cook just yet,” she says, peeling herself from Jonathan’s arms, “can you and Argyle set the card table up in the basement?”

The turkey almost melted like butter on your tongue, the gravy was rich and savory. Karen’s cheesy potatoes were creamy and the crunchy cornflakes on top were to die for; the entire meal was delicious. The labor of Nancy’s love for her family and friends showing through her craftsmanship of amazing cuisine. You hadn’t seen Karen or Ted since the wedding, being the closest thing to parents you had, you were ecstatic when Karen joined you over the hot water and soapy sink, washing the china plates.

“So sweety, how have things been going lately? Nancy said you have a roommate?” Her tight blonde permed curls shaking behind her as she scrubs the pot used to make the gravy.

Drying the freshly rinsed dish, you answer with a coy smile on your face, “I’ve been good, doing better than I have in a while, yeah, I have a roommate, uhh Eddie Munson.”

“Oh Mike’s friend? He always was so kind to him, taking him under his wing and showing him the ropes in high school,” she looks at you then, her lavender eyeshadow catching the light over the sink, “I’m happy you two are dating.”

Dating.

Dating Eddie Munson.

Scenarios fly through your mind, Eddie holding your hand at the movie theater, him behind you—his chin resting on your shoulder helping you play video games at Arcade Land, watching him write songs and play his guitar, kissing his lips sweetly, deeply— moving down his neck, his chest. His fingers on your thighs—

You’re sweating.

Head dizzy and full of visions of you loving Eddie and Eddie loving you back dance in your head.

“W-we’re not dating, just—”

How would you describe your relationship with Eddie? Roommates? Friends? Waiting for him to kiss you?

“—friends,” you say, enunciating the word slowly, rolling it off your tongue.

“Well,” Karen says, a hidden smile on her knowing lips, “I’m happy you two are just friends.”

Friends.

Such a complicated word. Because you and Eddie were more than that, but definitely not dating. The tension between you was electric, and sometimes jarring, but you went to bed thinking of him every night, hoping he would just open the door to your room, slip beneath the sheets and hold you while you dreamed.

[Two weeks prior]

The morning after you had comforted him, you woke up alone— his side of the bed still warm as if he had just gotten up. Sleeping so soundly you weren’t sure what day it was, or the time. The alarm clock on your night stand said 7 o’clock but that couldn’t be right. You and Eddie had both slept for over twelve hours, the comforting kind of sleep that lulls babies to sleep, gentle, sweet, pillowy dreams in one another’s arms. Getting dressed for work, you slip a pair of jeans on, and change into a long navy blue cardigan, headband to match. Lacing up your converse, you open your bedroom door.

Eddie’s in his room getting dressed for work when you find him. Knocking on the opened door gently, you poke your head in, his eyes lift and meet yours, a sleepy, coy grin colors his face, but it doesn’t meet his eyes.

“Hey,” he whispers softly, stopping mid button on his work coveralls.

The black bandana around his head presses his bangs nearly flat, the soft waves of his chocolate dipped curls reflect the sun light with a honey oranged hue.

“Hi,” your voice is small and meek.

An overwhelming feeling of dread* clouds your mind. Where would this new found friendship and comfort lead you both? Maybe Eddie was regretting the entire night. You haven’t been on this comfort level with someone you were physically attracted to ever. Steve was like a brother to you. And Chad— you were never comfortable with him, your skin crawling just thinking of it. But Eddie? The sight of him gave you butterflies, his arms holding your waist while you slept was an intimacy you haven’t experienced before, and you wanted to relish in the feeling of it.

He fiddles with his rings on his fingers, rolling them around and around before his mouth opens to speak, “I’m sorry for yesterday,” he blurts out, looking down in shame, unable to meet your curious eyes.

Barely comprehending that he’s apologizing for being vulnerable, you walk towards him slowly. He notices your staggering steps and inches backward. His walls are back up, caged in with his feelings, barbed wire on the top so you couldn’t find a way in, electric fence surrounding the brick walls—the highest voltage imaginable.

“Ed—”

“Please,” he begs, voice cracked and broken, wavering on another breakdown, “please don’t… I don’t need your sympathy.”

Tears well in your eyes at his recoiling. How can a night of comfort turn into despair and hostility the next morning? Nose burning, signaling your brain that tears would be falling any second, you wipe your eyes hastily.

Eddie felt like his neck was out, exposed to the world, waiting for the guillotine’s blade to slice his skin, until the crimson of his blood spilled in the basket, severing his head, a trophy amongst the weak.

Munson’s didn’t accept charity, his whole life that's what he felt like to Wayne, a charity case, a goddamn roadblock in Wayne’s life stopping him from finding a girlfriend, sleeping on a real bed, forcing him to work overnight just for Eddie— he’d never forgive himself for the pain he’s caused him— and now you? Offering your bed to him, your fingers twirling through his hair as he came undone. Whimpering like an infant, coating your thighs with thick tears. Sure it felt nice to have someone there with him, to reassure him it was all going to be okay, sweet, angelic voice of reason. But when he woke this morning he felt disgusting, like a predator, a vicious wolf preying on a sweet innocent lamb offering herself to him because he was upset.

He didn’t want that for you. He didn’t want to taint your soul with his past.

“I’m not giving my sympathy,” you voiced into the void, whether he heard it or not you weren’t sure.

Eddie breathing heavily, trying to contain his emotions from spilling out of him, “good, because I don’t want it.”

He walks around you in a huff, the muted scent of cigarettes and cologne hit your nose, as he passes you and walks into the bathroom, shutting the door all too hard. Following him, you’re certain you are full fledged crazy at this point, like in a scary movie when the lead actress stays in the house instead of running away.

Opening the door, opening Pandora’s box, you push it til it swings wide, he’s hovering over the sink brushing his teeth, white and blue toothpaste decorate the corners of his mouth.

“Tooty,” he groans, spitting a dollop of toothpaste into the sink, “seriously— I don’t want to talk about it, whatever you have to say save it for the human Care Bear Harrington—I don’t want to hear it.” he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

Stones would be impressed with how still you’re standing, head raised waiting for him to look you in your eye. Refusing to break. A storm in your eyes threatening to flood. “Why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything,” Eddie grunts impatiently, “are you ready?”

When you don’t say anything, he moves you out of the way, large hands around your arms, stepping around you and going into the kitchen.

Following him, you won't let up, his head in the fridge he pulls out the orange juice carton, drinking directly from the jug, “Eddie, you can talk to me about it, I’m a good listener.”

He shakes his head and rolls his eyes, gasping for breath as he swallows the citrus liquid, “I said— I said, I didn’t want to talk about it and I meant it, I’m a grown ass man— ”

Interrupting him, not giving him time to finish you blurt, “Doesn’t make you less of one just because you’re upset.”

His teeth clench so hard they almost crack, his hands balled into fists at his sides, the orange juice container crumbling in his grasp. Years of therapy as a child did nothing to help him. And neither could you.

“Stop,” he snaps, his eyes pinched tight, a wave of fury washing over him, only seeing red. “Jesus Christ enough! I don’t need this shit right now, I’m gonna be late for work!”

He stomps towards the door, shoving his boots on haphazardly, throwing his leather jacket under his arm, the same leather jacket you had worn the night before, your perfume lingering on the inside.

The smell of you lighting his fire even more, he’s losing all self control.

“What’s your problem anyway?” he grumbles, kicking open the front door, waiting for you to follow. His eyes are wide and full of hurt, anger, crippling anxiety so deep he didn’t even know if he was breathing. But no matter how mad you looked, how many tears you kept wiping away from your lash line, he couldn’t stop.

Keys in the ignition he puts the van into reverse and yanks the wheel quickly, driving like he robbed a bank.

Anytime you try to speak he cuts you off.

“Do you like getting involved with people's lives? Why are you so desperate to know what happened? Need something to gossip about at the salon? So you and your boss can whisper shit about me again? Hmm? ”

“What the fuck are y—” you try to say, but he cuts you off again, he’s raging war on himself and on you, it’s far from over, no surrender flag in sight.

“That must be it right?” he preens, barely stopping at the stop lights as he flies to your work, tires squealing around corners, “I’m here because you need something to talk about, the well full of hot gossip of Hawkins must have run dry. Well guess what sweetheart? It’s not anything I haven’t heard before.”

He’s so clueless, so expertly out of sync with what you were trying to convey, what you were begging him to understand. The tears are free falling and you don’t stop them, screaming at him, “Eddie!”

“What?!” he barks back, chest heaving with hatred filled lungs and venomous words so toxic they’re burning your skin.

Aching soul and self doubt at an all time low you try to will the words to not shake as you deliver, “do you really think I would hold you while you were sad with any other intention than consoling you!? You were upset and the least I could do after you helped me was try to make you feel better!”

He tried to argue but it’s your turn to cut him off, holding up a hand as he fumed through his nose. He parks in back of the salon, slamming on the brakes as you both jolt forward. “Let it go, Too—”

“I care about you, you stubborn asshole!” You grab your purse between your feet and open the door and jump out.

“Just stop,” Eddie pleads, his eyes brimming with tears, “don’t.”

“I can’t,” you say back in a whisper, your voice breaking at the last syllable, you reach for the door, out of breath and holding in your sobs the best you can, “oh, and for the record— Josie was telling me to be nice to you and give you a chance— my mistake.”

Slamming the door you don’t hear him break, you don’t hear him thrust the heel of his hand into the steering wheel until it aches and burns. His nerves shooting pain through his entire arm. You don’t hear him scream and hate himself as he drives to work, his body soulless, empty, fragile.

“Tooty, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell Josie for the tenth time.

You definitely were not fine.

Distracted the minute you got to work, your mind raced with questions of the unknown. Hurt, confused and pissed off, you had mixed the wrong color formula for your clients hair, resulting in money down the drain from your own paycheck as you threw the mixture away and started it again, for the third attempt.

At 10 o’clock you were folding towels in the back when you realized you had bleached an entire load of darks. The once rich black towels were now faded with splotches of orange.

Eddie’s words had ripped through your heart, hurdling themselves into the deepest parts of you that were sheltered away from anyone, taking up solace in your forbidden soul, hollowing it out.

By noon you were crying while rolling a client's perm rods into her hair, having to step away multiple times before Josie gently told you enough was enough and that you should go home for the day.

Not wanting to call Eddie and get a ride you decided to walk the half mile through town back to your home on Cherry lane.

Kicking a rock with the toe of your shoe for most of the walk home, you mull over the events of the day. Wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan as you tread along the sidewalk.

[Thanksgiving Day]

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with me to Nancy and Jonathan’s? It’ll be fun!”

Eddie is leaned against the driver window of his van, his finger tracing a smiley face into the dust in the dash. “I wish I could, but Wayne and I go fishing every year on Thanksgiving— it’s a tradition.”

Every year since Eddie was ten years old, Wayne took him fishing on Thanksgiving, starting early in the morning and going until sundown, ending the night camping beneath the stars, cooking their daily catch for supper, “save me a piece of pie okay?” he finishes, ruffling up your hair, a shit eating grin on his lips.

Feeling horrible that your car was still out of commission, Eddie had let you borrow the van for the night after you dropped him off at Wayne’s. “And you’re positive it’s okay if I take the van?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?” Eddie’s laugh spread across his cheeks, the black beanie he has on his head inching closer to falling off every second, “Tooty,” he breathes, his brown eyes dipping into yours, “take the goddamn van and have a good time—and hurry up, you’re gonna be late.”

[2 Weeks prior]

🎶 it was the third of June another sleepy dusty delta day

I was out choppin’ cotton and my brother was baling hay

Bobbie Jo’s tune was ringing in his ears all day— no matter how loud he cranked the radio in the shop, no matter how many times he tried to hum a different tune— her -* words rang through his mind like silk, coating his skin and implementing old memories he didn’t want brought up.

He was filled with fury. A ticking time bomb. It should have been no surprise when Sean and Aaron started poking at him, how unhinged he would become.

“What’s got your panties in a twist, Munson,” Sean sneers, changing the oil on the Ford truck, “your little girlfriend finally figure out you’re a fucking loser?”

Eddie had already thrown a wrench across the shop out of frustration when he realized he forgot his lunch. He slammed the hood of a blue minivan on his fingers right after morning break, and now Aaron and Sean were starting in on him.

His breath erratic, trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself down but failing. His misery over taking his nerves. He grunts through barred teeth, “We aren’t dating,”

Sean perks up at the news, his wiry mustache splattered across his top lip like a squashed caterpillar, decrepit and sparse. “Oh shit, so she’s single, huh?”

“Damn,” Aaron chimes in, his hands cupped around his junk as he shakes it back and forth between his greasy hands, “what I wouldn't give to be balls deep in that pretty little mouth, that’d shut her up for good.”

“You’re skating on thin ice, fuck rag, I’d watch my mouth if I were you.” Eddie’s shoulders are tensed, adrenaline at an all time high. Fight or flight screaming through his blood racing through his heart and speeding up his heart rate.

“Whatchya gonna do about it, freak?” Sean spits pushing Eddie in the chest, “ ‘Name the time and place’ yeah motherfucker? How about right here right now?” Standing toe to toe with Eddie, but a foot shorter he peers into Eddie’s face, egging him on.

“Ever since you moved in with that whore you’ve been such a little bitch about everything— I mean I get it, honestly— Chad always said she had the sweetest p—”

Sean chokes on the last word as Eddie’s fist connects with his cheek, his rings would end up leaving bruises in their shape on his skin for weeks to come.

Sean throws a punch at Eddie but he is quick to dodge it, years of fighting in the trailer park giving him an upper hand. Blood spews from Sean’s mouth as Eddie upper cuts him in the chin, his tongue almost split in half as he bit down from the impact.

Eddie is blinded momentarily as Aaron socks him in the eye, a deep purpling plum colored bruise that took weeks to heal. Stumbling backwards his back hits the red sun faded tool box, Sean came swinging a crow bar out of nowhere and hit Eddie in the ribs, a groaning thud as the sound of his bones shatter in his body.

Behind his back, he reaches for whatever is closest, a wrench wrapped tight in his fingers gets thrown in the air at Sean, hitting him in the throat and knocking him over onto the smooth concrete of the shop floor, gasping for breath.

Aaron tackles Eddie, sending him into the air compressor, four fists are swinging and bodies shifting as they both struggle for dominance. Eddie’s lip is cut and his eye is swollen almost shut. Aaron’s nose is dripping blood on Eddie’s shirt as he punches him in the same place that Sean hit him with the crow bar. He’s able to get a knee up between Aaron and himself and twists his body to get above him, and when he does he lays punch after punch into Aaron’s swollen bloody face.

With each rocking fist connecting with flesh, Eddie has one thing on his mind, you. He thinks about the foul way they had disrespected you. The way you had cried when you told him you couldn’t stop caring about him. How he was close to losing you because he couldn’t open up and let you in. How terrified you must have been for all those years when you were scared and alone, nobody there to hold you and comfort you. And while he’s pummeling Aaron into a bloody pulp of cracked teeth and swollen eyes, it finally clicks for him.

The fight didn’t last long, but was effective enough to get Eddie suspended for the rest of the work day— and Aaron and Sean got a nice week's vacation with no pay.

Eddie’s knuckles are coated in a mixture of blood and spit. His jaw aches as he drives home with one eye open, it’s the clearest he’s seen in a long time.

[Thanksgiving]

“Fish ain’t bitin’ much are they?” Wayne and Eddie have both cast and reeled in their rods multiple times with zero luck. The small boat Eddie had gifted Wayne with for Christmas 3 years ago stood at still waters of Lover’s Lake, both men chilled to the bone.

“Nah, they sure aren’t. Probably no fish left in here after the summer you had.”

Since Eddie had graduated, Wayne dropped down to part time at the plant and went to dayshift. A true dream for him and for Eddie, offering to pick up most of the bills, a silent thank you for all the years that Wayne has taken care of him when he didn’t have to, but did anyway— the only caring person in his life, until you.

The wind whips through Eddie’s hair, tugging the curls out from the confinements of the cotton stocking cap snug on his head. The once crisp autumn foliage is soggy like forgotten cereal in a bowl of milk around them from the previous nights rain, chilling the usual humidity from the air and adding a depth of ice in their veins as they shake and shiver in their jackets, Eddie in his leather jacket, Wayne in a weathered faded khaki canvas coat.

Ruddy hands with silvered rings light two cigarettes, passing one to a pair of calloused, aged hands. Inhaling deeply and blowing warm smoke in the whispering winds of the quiet fog around them.

Wayne runs a rough hand over his sunned scalp, itching the small patches of hair left, as he readjusts his tattered cap, letting the nicotine settle into his bones and soothe the stubborn ache in his jaw, like ointment on an arthritic joint, “you ever gonna bring that girlfriend over to meet me or you keepin’ her alls to yourself?”

“What girl?” Eddie says quickly, coyly, blowing smoke into the space between the two of them, hiding his mouth with the curtain of his curls, opening the coffee can full of mud and worms, pushing another worm on the end of his hook.

Wayne hadn’t talked to him about girls since he was fifteen when he walked into his room and tossed a box of rubbers at his chest and grumbled, “use ‘em,” under his breath.

Irritation blooms against Wayne’s brows, “boy, don’t play dumb with me,” he cracks at Eddie, a false stern voice in his gruff voice, “the one you’re dating you little wise ass.”

“I’m not dating anyone, Wayne.” Eddie says, pretending to be preoccupied with the tackle box full of neon fishing lures and bobbers. He runs his thumb over the rough cracked surface of the faded red and white bobber, the same one Wayne gave to him when they started fishing all those years ago. The memory brings a smile to his face.

The gruff scoff from Wayne’s throat suggests bullshit to his ears from his nephew’s mouth, a noise Eddie has heard many many times in the two decades he had been living with Wayne, one that told him that he better tell the truth, and right the hell now. No matter that he now towers over Wayne, he’ll always be his boy, the wide eyed boy with a mountain of guilt on his shoulders, his son.

And as Wayne always knew— the more he poked and prodded, the more Eddie would clam up. They sit in comfortable silence, the slight breeze rippling the water on Lover’s Lake, rocking the small fiberglass boat and swaying the two Munson men gently.

How could he describe the relationship between you and him? Not dating, but hopefully more than friends. He didn’t have many friends that he’d willingly let help him battle his inner-most demons. In fact, Gareth and Jeff were still left in the dark about it. The breeze continues to grow frigid and burrows itself between the layers of his clothing, freezing his skin and peppering it with goose bumps. The chattering of Eddie’s teeth remind him of Steve’s birthday when he offered you his jacket, and opted to freeze the rest of the night just so you wouldn’t be chilly.

It’s simple really, he admitted it to Steve, but somehow admitting it to Wayne was worse than the hit from the box of condoms against his chest.

He says it all too fast, out of breath, and barely audible. But he says it. And a smile spreads across the weathered leather of Wayne’s face, pulling his mustache up, a glimmer of a sparkle in his eye, “see, now was that so bad?”

[2 weeks prior]

His knuckles ache, and he’s not positive if it’s from the blows to Aaron’s face or the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. His realization while busting open Aaron’s cheek made him eager to get home. Eager to clean himself up before he went to pick you up from work.

The house is silent as he walks through the garage, his angry hurtful words bounce back to him off the kitchen walls, the counter. The orange juice was still where he left it, crumpled and misshapen.

He truly was an asshole. Hurting the one person who cared for him other than Wayne. He sits down in a chair and unties his boots, blood splattered on the toes. Peeling the sweat stained work coveralls from his body, he tosses them down the steps to the basement, leaving them for later.

He stands partially naked in the kitchen, clad in only his underwear and socks, the kick of adrenaline wearing completely off, the promise of pain against his broken ribs rings searing heat through his body.

A glance around the kitchen stills the breath in his lungs. The kitchen is a wreck from the waffle night, the colossal beginning of a budding relationship that he was currently in the trenches hoping to fix. The once silky batter is now hard, pale concrete cemented onto the sides of the glass mixing bowl. The waffle iron was open, sprayed with cooking oil that was sitting with its cap off on the counter. The plates were sticky with cold syrup and now styrofoam resembled waffles, still on the table from where you had both sat. Forks and knives laying atop the ceramic plates in a haphazard way, awaiting the return of warm hands to finish their job.

Without thinking he starts to clean up, filling the sink with hot water, scraping the food from the plates into the garbage, putting away the orange juice and the left out butter and cooking spray. In no time the kitchen is sparkling and Eddie’s body is screaming at him to rest. The cuts on his knuckles are cleaned but swollen, soap stung from the water. His side aches, adrenaline slipping away with every growing minute.The pain is almost unbearable.

A clicking noise from the front door has him turning suddenly, a slight panic in his nerves as he stands stone still.

A block from the house, your tears return, cold, and stuck to your face like ice on poles. You’re exhausted, stomping the entire way home drove shin splints up your legs, the cold cramping dull in your calves. Thinking of Eddie the entire way home you are dumbfounded— completely and utterly confused at his reaction. How could he not know how you felt about him? Why was he begging you to stop? Wondering if you’ll ever get the answers to those questions you wipe your nose with the sleeve of your cardigan. If he was going to guard himself again, and put the barriers back up— so could you.

The door is stuck as you try to open it, pushing and shoving your shoulder into it, it finally gives, stumbling your way into the living room in the most ungraceful way. The scent of freshly wiped surfaces sting your nose and stop you dead in your tracks. You weren’t expecting to be relieved from seeing Eddie, but the relief is short lived as you notice the deep violet and indigo bruise painting his eye.

“Ed—,” you gasp, covering your mouth as you run towards him, foregoing the screaming in your legs, “wh— oh my God!”

His eyes melt at your appearance, scarlet rimmed eyes and wet cheeks take him in, eyebrows dipped into unease and apprehension. He feels your hesitancy, thick like fog surrounding you both as you reach your fingers up to his cheek. Ice cold pads of your fingertips skim the tender skin of his face, brushing the wispy hair of his bangs from his eyes with your fingertips to get a better look at him.

He doesn’t speak, barely breathing at your gentle touch on his face. The frosty coolness of your fingers burn his skin with every silky movement of your hands. He tries to avoid your eyes, avoid the pain he knew was from earlier and his cowardice.

Fingers dancing along his skin, you scan over his torso, the same way you did on the morning after Halloween, the bruising from the mishap of the steps is replaced by a pattern of splotchy deep bruising.

“They’re broke,’’ Eddie groans, his split lip ripping open, from him trying to force a smile, “looks cool though right?”

Using humor to deflect the true way he feels was an easy defense mechanism for him, but you won’t bite. Won’t take the bait he’s dropping into your waters, won’t nibble at his small offering.

Trying not to break, you stand your ground, “what happened?”

“Nothing that wasn’t deserved,” Eddie says, eyes casted downwards at your hands near his ribs, “I was just having a shitty enough day— my own fault—“, he adds quickly, his eyes flicking to yours, not wanting to put salt into the already festering wound he created, “I—uh—I took care of it.” He says in a final explanation.

“And now I’m going to take care of this,” he motions between you both, sliding his hands down your arms and settling them in your hands.

“Tooty— I,” he exhales as deep as his lungs will allow given the break in his ribs, spilling his stitched up heart to you, letting the walls fall with each word, “I’m sorry— I’m so fucking sorry. Nothing I do or say will ever amount to how shitty I feel for making you cry, for pushing you away. I’m a coward when it comes to this type of shit, and it was too heavy— too muddy for me to explain. I figured if I’d shut you out you’d go back to how it was before— before Harrington’s birthday, before Halloween befo—,”

A shake of your head and a sharp intake of breath come from your body. Did all of this mean nothing to him? The flirting, the gentle touching, the sweet gestures? It was all just something he wanted to forget?

Voice small and shallow, “Is that what you want Eddie? To go back to how it was before, when you first moved in?”

A single tear falls from your face, and without thinking, without second guessing himself or wondering if you would think he was being weird, Eddie is quick to brush it away with the curl of his forefinger. His swollen knuckles are tight and achy. He tries to hide a hiss from his teeth, wanting to live in this euphoric moment for as long as he can, as long as you will allow him to. He extends both hands now to your face, his rough thumbs rubbing over the expanse of your cheeks, fingers behind your ears, curling into your hair.

“I want,” he breathes easy now, as if the touch of your skin on his fingers mended his broken bones, his eyes soft where it allowed, one still swollen shut, “I need you to know that I care, too— and I don’t want you to ever quit caring about me— baby, I’ve cared about you for years—- and I can’t get myself to stop.”

And when a sob breaks from your chest, he pulls you into him, “c’mere,” the sensation steals the breath from your lungs, you’ve never been touched with such gentleness, such care. He’s holding you as if you’re glass. Fragile, cracked and held together with shitty Elmer’s glue that was a tempting snack for children. It’s so delicate the way he’s stroking your skin.

Minutes or hours pass you’re not sure. His warmth engulfs you, his musky cologne and spiced deodorant is a gentle blanket around you. Wrapping you in a swaddle of his admiration.

His hair tickles your cheeks, tattooed arms are twisted in your hair,and wrapped around your back. The shine of your tears coat his bare chest, his chin rests on top of yours breathing in your hair shushing you gently.

You spend the night working Eddie’s rings from his already swollen fingers, pressing ice packs to his bruises and spreading neosporin on his cut lip, rubbing it gently with the tip of your finger, Eddie giggles at the concentration on your face and the way your tongue is poked out.

He’s infatuated with the way you make him feel. His heart soaring higher and higher with each delicate touch of your fingers on his skin.

He’s up late that night, stomach full from your homemade chicken noodle soup and his heart even more full. Flying higher than cloud nine, your sweet face on his mind.

[Thanksgiving]

A sadistic voice echoes from your tv screen, “a little young for ya isn’t she Richie? BEEP BEEP RICHIE!”

Richie Tozier sips the Dixie cup of water, leaning against the bookcase in the Derry library, Pennywise continues his antics of torture as balloons drop from the ceiling, popping with blood spluttering on the library go-ers faces, oblivious to the fantasy nightmare Pennywise ensues.

The front door opens with a thud as a shriek and the popcorn bowl on your lap goes flying through the air. Eddie walks hurriedly through the door. A shivering spine of fear and realization hits you all at once. His boisterous laugh reverberates the living room walls as he picks popcorn from your hair, and places it in his mouth, a loud crunch between his teeth as he plops down next to you on the couch.

“Think you got your holidays mixed up, sweetheart— it’s Thanksgiving, Halloween was last month.”

Rolling your eyes you make a face to mock him, which only fuels his fire and has his cold fingers jabbing into your sides and tickling you so hard you scream out. Begging him to stop.

“Don’t!,” you squeal, holding your breath and giggling at his unrelenting tickling. He finally gives up after your face has gone red and your hair is a mess, laughing tears rolling down your cheeks.

Eddie sits back on the couch taking a huffing breath, a wild smile spreading from ear to ear, “that’s what you get for watching IT without me!”

Scoffing, you pick up the bowl of popcorn and the paled yellow crunchy kernels spilled on the ruby red throw blanket, “wait, weren’t you supposed to be camping with your uncle tonight?”

Eddie breathes out a sigh, bending at the waist to gather the kernels off the floor. The rest of the fishing trip with Wayne, Eddie spent it quieter than he had ever been, contemplating his next move, how could he show you that he was serious? How could he let you in? Show you his ugly past without scaring you, without you running for the hills? The answer was easy.

“I have something— somewhere I wanna show you,” he whispers, standing to his full height. Looking for the familiar mischievous glimmer in his eye, you are surprised by the genuine sparkle replacing it. His face his earnest, almost a look of doubt on his lips, scared of your reaction.

He peels the blanket from your lap and reaches down, his hand held out extended to yours, “come with me?”

The air is bitter. The driveway is glittering with a sequined frost, dancing with the shine of the street lights. Warm breath fills the inside of Eddie’s van as he slots the key into the ignition and fires it up, cranking the heat. Snuggling further into your knitted scarf, hiding the chill of your nose as Eddie backs down the driveway, heading out of town.

It doesn’t take long to get to where he was going, the drive in silence had you questioning what was going on in his mind. The path was overgrown, hidden from the road, hidden from anyone who didn’t know that it was there. The headlights of the van bob along with each sunken hole on the dirt drive. Jostling the van this way and that.

Nestled into thick trees past an old loose and corroded barbed wire fence, in place for property lines, sits a small house, paint chipped and barely visible. The roof was caved in by a large tree falling on it, the sagging porch still had bleached yellow crime scene tape hanging on by threads to the moss eaten pillar.

Eddie throws the van in park, sniffling slowly and looking around. “This uh,” he stutters, clearing his throat, “this is where I lived with my mom, my old man was in and out most of the time—drunk or in jail, I don’t remember him being here that much except the last time.”

Silence is golden, and you give him your undivided attention as he twists in his seat, bent knee leaning on the door frame.

“That,” he says pointing to the fallen tree in the back, “was an apple tree, apples this big around I swear,” he motions his hands in a circle, a chuckle in his throat, “we didn’t live here for very long, a year, or two maybe…”

His voice fades, and at first he second guesses bringing you here. He can imagine you piecing this puzzle of woe together, his life. The tragic tale of Eddie Munson, he didn’t spin a web of luxuries for you to pretend with him for a moment, a second, that he was anything other than what he was—but when your cotton gloved fingers slide into his, interlacing them—it gives him the courage, the resilience to continue.

“…I was six when it— when she was… he—,” he trails off, unable to finish, but it doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. The abandoned house, the barely-there flicker of yellow tape, she wasn’t only dead— she was murdered, by his father’s hand.

Comprehending what he’s getting at, you can practically hear his heart breaking. Eyes never leaving his face, you take him in, his eyes are wet as he blinks back tears, using his other hand to pinch the inner corners of his eyes, and hide behind his hair, his face is ashen, once ruddy cheeks from when he came home and tickled you is now swallowed by stale ash, sucking the life from his eyes, his cheeks, his soul.

“.. right in front of me…” he hangs his head low, sniffing quietly, “Wayne took me in after that.”

Eddie and you were alike in more ways than you had thought, although your parents were still alive, they were equally absent from your life, much like Eddie’s parents. Sure you both had people who took care of you, and as sweet as the gesture was, it was never really the same. The aching torture of having to defend for yourself, put a brave face on for your temporary care takers so you don’t seem like a bother to them, so they won’t worry about the weight of taking you in— was all too familiar.

“Eddie,” you whisper softly, rubbing his hands with your thumbs.

Yearning and breaking for him, the cords of your heart reach to his, tethering them together as you slide over the center council, and carefully land into his lap. He’s surprised at first by your brazenness, but once you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him into you, he melts like chocolate at your heated touch.

Your fingers tug into his hair at the nape of his neck, his nose and lips make their way in between your scarf and your neck, the slight chill against your skin sends goosebumps down your spine, a throbbing in your core.

Realization spreads through your heart, your brain, the hair follicles on your head, the painted nails on your toes. Holding him, him holding you, his arms around you, your arms buried in his hair, his fingers rubbing patterns into your back as he sighs deeply and regulates his breath—for the first time in your life, you realize this is what love feels like.

To be loved and to be in love. It was undeniable. Right? Friends didn’t do this. Roommates didn’t do this. But two people who cared deeply for one another and were bonded together by more than just traumatic circumstances? That was love.

In this moment, nothing else matters.

It’s just you and him.

Him and you.

The flutter of your heart short circuits as it seeps hot sticky love all over your face, blooming warmly in your cheeks. Grasping him tighter, you pull away, settling your forehead into his. Whiskey poured eyes staring back into yours, for a brief second you swear you can feel his heart flutter with yours, beating as one.

Eddie doesn’t play his music loud on the way back. A comfortable echoing still in the van as it clunks along the road. His voice barely above a whisper when he speaks. He feels satisfied. Happy even? Like the weight of the world was off of his shoulders by you simply knowing his past. You didn’t ask questions and in the moment he didn’t need you to. His arms wrapped around you was more than enough, your fingers twirling in his hair, the smell of your perfume behind your ear. The way you let him grieve, let him take you somewhere he hasn’t gone in years, was something he’d appreciate for a lifetime to come.

Once home it’s like any normal night, only he doesn’t tease you. He doesn’t fight over the bathroom or use your toothbrush, he doesn’t argue when you pop Christmas Vacation into the VCR, even though you can quote the entire movie. He’s completely engulfed by you, watching you brush your hair, the extra roll of the waistband of your pajama pants. The ridiculous colors of your fuzzy socks you insisted on wearing now that the weather was colder.

He’s never felt nervous around a girl before, usually throwing himself around, showing off his exquisite rack like a stacked buck in rut, rubbing his antlers on trees, showing his mighty dominance.

But you weren’t just another lonely girl looking for a night with a lead singer, or a girl pretending to be in love with him just so she could score coke from his supplier while also fucking him behind his back, and you definitely weren’t a faceless girl that he plowed to forget it all.

Meaning much more to him than just some silly fuck, or a high school “sweetheart” that ended up being a heartless cunt, or a dumpster for his cum.

No.

You were much more than that, to him.

More than a roommate, more than a friend, more than Eyeball’s bratty fucking sister.

He could write sonnets about the little lines in between your brow when you pulled your eyebrows together, usually when you were mad at him. He could sing songs about your laugh, not the small polite one, the loud one, the one that rang every doorbell to his heart and and he gladly answered. He could hum a tune of gratitude about your cooking and the silent ways you care for him and your close friends. He’d get his ass kicked by the entire male population of Hawkins if it meant keeping you safe.

You were it for him.

The only one to make him feel, the only one he wanted to see at the end of the day, in the morning when he got up.

Watching you giggle and let out a yawn, he places a couch pillow between his hip and yours gesturing for you to lie down. He almost goes into cardiac arrest when you move the pillow entirely, your head resting in his lap. A sleepy smile on your face as you tug the blanket under your chin.

Yup.

You were it for him.

And he's a sucker, addicted to the way you made him love you so effortlessly.

hope you all enjoyed this volume! volume ix is where it heats up 🔥

@big-ope-vibes @br0ck-eddie @b-irock @loveshotzz @mopeymopeymouse @shiftingtherain @courtingchaos @nightonblogmountain @word-wytch @ghost-proofbaby @hanobe8 @abibliophobiaa @joejoequinnquinn just a few of the coven 🩵🩷

This is for you

*sacrifices 🖕🏼

#honey i’m home #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson #stranger things x y/n #eddie x you angst #Eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x you fluff

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illicitlimerence-writes · 2 years

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teddy bears & blankets | m. verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x leclerc!reader

word count: 2.3k words

request: yes, by anon: “hear me out…single mum who’s a leclerc and max👀”

prompt: character a can’t wrap gifts to save their life. character b is their neighbor and can help. from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: a baby, fluffy max, a sick baby:( language maybe, kinda angsty in the middle.

a/n: day 5! i really didn’t plan to write three kid fics in a row, but oh well. REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.

my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist

he sighed, tossing yet another piece of wrapping paper aside. max was talented in many different things, but wrapping gifts just wasn’t one of them. he was already stressed enough having to buy a gift for a christmas party he had forgotten about, spending almost two hours in line at a store, and now he had no idea how to wrap this box.

when he was sure that the paper was large enough to cover it completely, once he started placing the adhesive tape either one side was larger than the other or he placed it in a way that just didn’t work. he decided to just give up and place a bow on top.

he put on his coat, with the gift in one hand and keys in the other. he stepped out and closed the door, and was about to place the key in the keyhole when he heard the sound of the elevator arrive at his floor. he turned his head, seeing his neighbor and her daughter.

“hi, max,” she said, waving her free hand at him, the other one was holding her sleeping child. “i thought you’d be at charles’ by now,” she smiled.

“yeah, that’s where i’m heading, i just… i couldn’t figure out how to wrap this,” he held up the gift, “but i gave up,” he chuckled, watching her shift her weight from one leg to the other, “let me help you,” he said, opening his arms to grab the child.

when max found out a few months ago that his new next-door neighbor had a one-year-old baby he feared the worst. he was used to the peace and quiet of having a floor all to himself, and a baby would undoubtedly break that silence he cherished so much. but that wasn’t the case with (y/n) and alison leclerc.

alison was probably the best, well-behaved child max had ever met, he was used to his nephews, rowdy and a little bratty if he was being honest, but alison was soft, gentle, not too noisy and always staring up at him with eyes that looked just like charles’.

“she’ll wake up, can you get the door, please?” she asked, handing him the keys. he nodded and opened the door for her. “thank you,” she turned on the lights, “make yourself at home, i’ll put this little one to bed and i’ll help you with that,” she smiled at him.

“oh, no, you don’t have to- i-”

“my brother has been working all day for this dinner to be perfect, he won’t let you in if you show up with an unwrapped gift.” she raised an eyebrow, “he’s been freaking out all day, so, for the sake of charles’ health, let me wrap that gift for you,” she used her mom voice, giving him one last look before walking to ali’s room.

“yes, ma’am,” max said, running to his place to grab the leftover wrapping paper. he returned just as she was walking back, still with alison in her arms, but this time the baby was awake. “what happened?” he asked, a smile on his face as he looked at the baby, with sleep evident in her eyes, her cheeks an intense shade of pink.

“it’s like a curse,” she sighed, “right when i was placing her head on the pillow she woke up,” she placed ali on the counter, the baby immediately turning to crawl away, “nope, ali-”

“i’ll play with her, if that’s okay,” max offered. “a favor for a favor,” he said, walking to the little girl.

“what do you say ali? want to play with max?” she asked the girl, who had made her way to the fruit bowl and was playing with a small clementine.

“mash,” ali said, trying to say max. he smiled.

max entertained the baby, letting her pick whatever she wanted to play with. she kept coming back to the small clementine, and as the girl’s mother was cutting the right amount of paper, ali handed him the clementine.

“you want me to eat it?” he asked, grabbing the fruit and lifting it up to his lips.

alison laughed, squealing and clapping her hands.

“thank you, ali, that’s the best fruit i’ve ever had!” max opened his hand, lifting it in front of ali’s face. “high five,” he said, grabbing ali’s hand and clapping it against his own. ali laughed, doing it again and again, each time harder than the last. “ow,” he said, shaking his hand after one particularly hard clap.

“ali, gentle,” her mother reminded her. max turned to the older leclerc girl, seeing her already done with the gift. “here you go, you’re free to leave now,” max inspected the gift, she’d even managed to make a bow out of the same paper.

“how did you do that?” he asked, staring at her in awe. she only shrugged.

“i’m multitalented,”

“can i come to you every time i need a gift wrapped?”

“yeah! we love having guests, don’t we, ali?” she asked, the girl had leaned against max’s torso, he was leaning against the edge of the counter, where ali was sitting to make sure she didn’t fall or crawl away.

“i think she’s falling asleep.” he said, pressing a hand to the back of her head to support her.

“thank god,” she sighed, “i thought it was going to be another sleepless night.”

“she’s got issues sleeping at night?”

“lately, yeah.”

“i’ve never heard her,” max said, the leclercs apartment was always so quiet it almost felt like no one lived there.

“she’s not a crier. she just stares around,”

“well…” he said, doubting for a second if he really wanted to say it, but he decided to do it, “feel free to stop by if you need anything. i mean it, whether it’s to entertain ali or… if you need company.”

he knew that parenting was already hard with both parents around, and he couldn’t imagine how difficult it was being a single parent. and he liked her, they knew each other since they were kids and had grown up together in a way, with her always tagging along to charles’ races and events.

“thank you,” she said, walking closer to them, “and the same goes to you, mi casa es tu casa.” she smiled at him.

alison moved her head, extending her arms

“mama,” she yawned.

“i think i’ll leave, she needs all the rest she can get,”

“yeah,” she nodded. “have a nice night, max.”

“thank you, you too.”

it was two weeks later, and again, max was struggling to decide whether he really should ask (y/n) for help. throughout those two weeks theyy had managed to run into each other more than the entire time they'd been neighbors. max would always pay a little extra attention to them, whether it was helping her with whatever she was carrying, opening the door for her, or holding alison in his arms.

he could say that they were starting to become close friends, and after two weeks he found himself looking forward to seek her help.

he was standing in front of his mirror brushing his hair to make sure it was in place. he looked down to his bottles of cologne, and he grabbed one, how finger ready to apply it, but thought about alison, if the girl was to get close to him the chemicals from the fragrance could irritate her.

he walked out of his room, with the roll of wrapping paper and the gift under his arm, something inside of him moved at the thought of seeing them again.

he lifted his fist to knock on the door, waiting for the usual stomping of little feet or her soft voice. he waited a few seconds before knocking again.

he heard soft whimpers getting louder, and soft shushing as the door opened. his face fell as he saw the state of both girls.

“what happened?” he asked immediately, seeing them both in their pjs, with alison crying soundlessly and her mother looking like she was on the verge of tears as well.

“i’m sorry, max, i- i can’t help you right now i-”

“no, no, forget about this, what’s wrong?” he asked, and right as he finished talking alison started coughing.

“she’s sick, and she can’t sleep and… god, i feel so… powerless,” she said, rubbing her hand up and down the baby’s back, “i wish i could make her feel okay but-” she shook her head, rubbing a hand down her face as tears started falling from her eyes.

“hey, it’s alright,” max whispered, walking in and wrapping his arm around her, “have you called her doctor?”

“yeah, he already prescribed the medicine, but… i don’t know what to do now, she keeps coughing and waking herself up.”

“mash,” they both looked at alison, watching her extend her arms towards him.

“no, baby, you’ll get max sick-” she explained, taking her arms down, but the baby insisted.

“it’s alright, i… i can hold her, i don’t mind.”

“but you’ll-”

“if it helps her, and you, i would love to hold her.” max said, watching ali lean herself forward. max dropped his stuff on the floor and held her. he placed the back of his hand against her forehead, “i think she’s got a fever.”

“yeah, the medicine should help with that.” she said, wiping her face with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “god, i’m a mess. let me get your things so you-”

“no, forget about that. i’m staying.”

“what? max you don’t have-”

“i want to. i won’t be able to focus on anything all night knowing you’re both like this.” right then alison started coughing again, and max rubbed her back gently, whispering softly in her ear, “there you go, get it all out. want to look at the city?” he asked, walking to the window overlooking the harbor, “look at the boats and the lights, ali…” he said, the girl leaning her head on his shoulder and yawning. “she’s sleepy,” he told her mom.

“yeah, she hasn’t slept all day. only for a few minutes before having a coughing fit every time.” she explained.

“have you called your mom? or brothers?” he asked, knowing that they would all most likely be there to help them both if they knew.

“they’re all gone. on holiday. we were supposed to join them but… well, look at us.”

“well, you’re not alone anymore. i’m here,” he walked to her, wrapping his free arm around her, careful with the baby between them.

“you- really don’t have to do this, you had plans and-”

“and i can see them tomorrow or next week, that’s the least of my problems right now. right now you both should get some sleep. this little one is already falling asleep.”

“i just hope she can rest more than fifteen minutes at a time,”

“you want me to lay her down or-”

“yeah, come,” she said, walking down a hallway and opening the door to ali’s bedroom. everything was decorated in neutral warm colors and was very clean.

“i think this is the tidiest baby room i’ve seen,” max said, hoping to lighten the mood.

“you should see my room. we’ve been sleeping there since she got sick, and it’s not pretty.”

“i’m sure it’s better than my room even when i’ve just cleaned it.”

she chuckled, preparing ali’s crib.

after placing her on the bed and waiting for her to fall asleep, they both stayed in her room, with max on the floor next to the crib, ready to act in case she started coughing or woke up. they stayed there for about twenty minutes, in silence, staring at alison longingly.

max had grown attached to both of them, and the feeling he got when he first saw them that night was something he’d never felt before. he’d felt the back of his neck tingling, his heart seemed to sink down to his stomach.

“i think this is it,”

“yeah?” max asked.

“yeah. she’s not even moving around, she used to squirm around, trying to get comfortable but now she’s… i think she’s finally gonna get some sleep,”

“and you should get some, too,” max said, eyes widening at what he had said, “sleep, i mean- i”

“i know what you meant,” she chuckled, covering her mouth with her hand to muffe her laugh. “i think i’ll just stay here for the night. i want to be here in case she wakes up.”

“well, we should get comfortable, then.” max said, leaning to grab a big stuffed bear and placed it beneath his head as a pillow.

“you’re not staying here, max. you really don’t have to.”

“of course i am. someone’s got to look out for you. and i know you’re both totally fine on your own normally, but these are not normal conditions. you need a little help, and i’m more than happy to be here.”

she smiled, a soft, sleepy smile that made max’s heart beat faster. she pulled out some blankets from the bottom drawer of ali’s wardrobe. scooting over next to max.

“you’ve got the pillow, i’ve got the blankets.” she said.

“i don’t know about you, but that sounds perfect.”

“a sleeping, sick kid, a mom in the middle of an emotional breakdown, a teddy bear and blankets?”

“yeah.” he nodded, sounding absolutely serious about his posture.

“you’ve clearly not spend enough time in this house.” she joked, sliding down and wrapping the blanket around herself, getting ready to sleep, finally.

“well, i would love to do that. you know, to… get a gist of things around here.” he said, unaware of the smile on her face, since she’d turned her back to him.

“we’ll talk about it over breakfast.”

“that sounds perfect. good night.” he leaned down, giving alison one last look, making sure that she was still asleep before closing his eyes to sleep.

2K notes · View notes

joeyalohadream · 1 month

Note

I wish you would write a fic where Bucky gets a call that Gale has been in an accident or something, goes to pick him up, Gale isn’t even badly hurt but Bucky still loses his mind and Gale ends up comforting him lol (if u can’t tell im a sucker for hurt gale and hurt/comfort in general lol) .

Also i saw u posting that u feel like u ramble/write too much and i just wanted to say, im so obsessed with ur writing that i eat up anything u write like if u were to post ur shopping list i would probably read it and love it so PLS ALWAYS WRITE TOO MUCH. Thank u for sharing w us ❤️‍🩹

Hi! So sorry this took me so long!

aaaand thank you so much, anon! Your kind words made me feel all warm and fuzzy! (p.s. my shopping list is cat food and wine LOL). I'm glad you enjoy my rambling!

Here is the fic I wrote for your request! 4,047 words of a bit of angst and fluff and some sweetness. Hope you like it!

If you'd rather read a word count like that on AO3, find it here!

It’s six o’clock and John is hungry.

His day had been a good one, but a long one. Flying right seat to several cadets on their second week of actual flying. Witnessing the joy, the reverence the young pilots had experienced behind the yolk had brought back memories of a time when flying had been his favorite thing in the world. Back before it was tainted by terror and death and dread.

It eases something within him to know that he can still find the beauty in it after years of growing to hate something that had once been the thing that made him feel alive.

But it’s Friday night now and his feet will be firmly on the ground for the weekend. A weekend that was supposed to start with a homecooked meal, lovingly prepared by Gale.

With Gale in school and John working full-time, they spend most of their week like passing ships. Evenings are typically a rushed affair of leftovers or a meet-up at the diner half way between the base and Gale’s campus.

Friday nights are John’s favorite though. Gale is out of class by three and home by four. He spends the two hour stretch of time between then and John’s arrival at six cooking the most delicious meals John has ever tasted. A skill he’d developed while trying, and mostly succeeding, in putting some meat back on to their bones after they came home.

But it’s six o’clock and there is no dinner waiting for him. The lights are all off and Gale’s truck is not in the driveway.

He walks through the house, turning on a lamp here, flipping a switch there and tries to temper the feeling of dread that starts prickling under his skin.

After everything they’d been through, it had taken them both a significant amount of time to quell the unrealistic expectation that something was wrong whenever they weren’t within sight of each other.

Neither of them had fully managed to overcome it. Gale calls his office at least twice a week from the payphone at school between classes just to say hello.

John pours himself a glass of water and takes a sip, leaning against the freshly painted cabinets. The soft green hue offers a peaceful warmth in the small kitchen. It had been their project last weekend.

Gale sometimes stays late after his lecture to help some of the younger students that struggle with the concepts. His genius.

But he doesn’t do that on Fridays because Friday nights are their nights.

So why isn’t he here?

He pushes off the counter and takes two steps to the icebox. Opening it reveals the steaks that Gale had prepped for tonight. He contemplates getting them out and trying his hand at making the meal but shuts the door and the thought down immediately.

Despite spending his time practically draped over Gale’s back, chin hooked over his shoulder on the Friday evenings he is home in time to watch him cook, John hadn’t managed to pick up the skill.

Instead of studying the technique, he studies Gale’s confident movements as he chops and tenderizes and slices and measures and stirs. Gale’s hands create nourishment for them while his own hands typically trace the soft skin a Gale’s still too flat belly, the delicate curve of his trim waist, sometimes drifting to skim his pert rear if Gale lets him get away with it.

The thoughts bring a smile to his face. But looking at the clock on the wall that tells him Gale is now over two hours late wipes it away.

He walks back to the front door and out onto the porch to stare down the long driveway that leads up to their home, willing headlights to turn onto it. But time ticks by and the sun is dipping lower on the horizon and Gale still isn’t where he’s supposed to be.

John knows the route Gale takes to and from campus. He’d driven him several times back before they’d acquired a second truck. He fingers the keys in his pocket, wondering how much Gale would rib him for driving the hour to his school when it turns out he just lost track of time.

But it’s Friday night and Gale doesn’t lose track of time, especially when time is leading to them spending their evening wrapped around each other.

John flinches as the silence of the evening is interrupted by the sound of their telephone ringing in the kitchen. Relief floods him a moment later and he slams the screen door open and takes long strides back into the house.

“You better have a good explanation for why I’m not eating a big, juicy steak right now,” he says into the receiver, a smile already pulling at his lips as he waits for Gale’s exasperated tone to filter back through to him.

But there’s silence for a beat and then a throat is cleared and then John’s heart starts to pound a little faster.

“Um, hello,” a voice that is distinctly not Gale comes through the connection. “Is this John Egan?”

“Yes,” John replies, switching the phone to his other hand, hoping it’s less wet. It’s not. “Who’s this?”

“I’m a nurse at Lakeside Memorial,” she supplies and John’s knees go weak. “I’m calling because your friend, Gale Cleven, was brought in about an hour ago. He was in an accident.”

Words won’t form, but some unintelligible noise escapes his mouth in response. For a moment, he’s not in their softly lit, freshly painted kitchen. He’s in a phone booth in London and it’s the worst moment of his life.

He went down swingin’.

The cord stretches its length as his legs decide to stop functioning and he slides down to the floor, back pressed against the green cabinet doors.

“Mr. Egan, are you still there?”

Is he? Or is he back on the bombed-out streets of a city he never should have gone to?

“I’m here,” he grinds out as he closes his eyes and reminds himself to breathe. Pictures Gale in front of him, one hand planted on his chest, the other cradling his cheek. Breathe, darlin’, he’d say. He’s said it to him countless times since they’d reunited back in the Stalag. He’s said it to him in their bedroom, in their yard, in this kitchen. He needs to know if he’ll ever hear him say it again. “Is he okay?”

“I can’t give out medical information over the phone,” the nurse tells him, and John tightens his grip on the phone, anger rising, but she continues before he can spew it over the line. “But Mr. Cleven asked me to call you himself.”

He takes a deep breath, the slightest bit of relief mixing with the dread coiling itself around his heart.

“You understand?” The nurse’s voice is back in his ear. She couldn’t tell him how he was, but she told him enough to let him know that he was well enough to be talking and that’s enough for him to know that Gale is still here. He nods and then remembers he’s alone.

“Yes, I understand,” he says. “Lakeside Memorial?”

“That’s correct,” she confirms, sounding patient. John imagines she makes these calls every day. He wouldn’t like that job. “Come in through the emergency room doors and we’ll get you sorted.”

“Thank you,” his voice wobbles a bit too much, but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed. There’s a click over the line that tells him she’s hung up, so he lets the phone drop and then presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and presses hard. He chokes on his next inhale and feels his shoulders shake.

But Gale needs him. He’s hurt and he wants John to come to him and he needs to get up off this floor, right now.

The room sways a bit as he gets to his feet, head feeling fuzzy. He thinks maybe he hasn’t been breathing correctly since the nurse’s voice came through the phone instead of Gale’s.

Breathe, darlin’.

In through his nose, out through his mouth. It helps a bit.

----

Physically, He slides into the driver’s seat of their new pick-up truck and starts the engine. That phone call left him with only questions and his hands sweat as they grip the leather of the steering wheel. His foot feels numb as he presses it to the gas in order to go find answers.

Mentally, he’s sliding into his seat on a train car that’s leading him to a destination with no answers to be had, no sweet smile or soft laughter or dazzling blue eyes waiting for him. No joy, only pain. No Gale. Because he went down swingin’.

The crushing sadness that had invaded every nerve in his system after he’d walked out of that phone booth all those years ago suddenly feels like it never went away. Like he could wake up and realize that this year of domestic bliss hadn’t happened. Like Gale wasn’t his and Gale wasn’t here, and Gale wasn’t anywhere. He shakes his head, as if he could physically knock the horrible images out of his mind.

Headlights shine through his windshield, streetlamps coming on along the road as the sun continues setting. He knows the way to the emergency room. It’s on the way to Gale’s campus. His body operates on auto pilot to get him there, his head is in the clouds or in the dirt or somewhere else entirely.

He needs Gale to be okay. It’s hard to breathe again.

Gale would be so angry at him for driving like this. Gale will be so angry with him for driving like this.

----

It takes him a moment to realize why every head in the room turns to him when he walks through the door. His hands shake as he straightens out his uniform jacket and runs fingers through his curls, realizing he forgot his cap. Not very officer-like to be out in public without the proper uniform.

To his surprise, it takes barely a word from him for a young orderly to lead him to Gale. No argument about how he’s not family, even though he is Gale’s only family. No odd looks about why it isn’t Gale’s wife or mother or father coming to see him.

He thinks his feet might be numb and he finds that odd, but they still put in the work and follow the man in scrubs to a row of curtained off exam rooms. Further relief crackles in his chest when he realizes they’re headed for one specific curtain. Gale isn’t in surgery or in a private room. He’s in the same kind of place John had sat a few months ago when he’d needed stiches on his thumb.

Maybe he’s okay.

Please be okay.

His heart rate increases as the orderly gestures him forward and then turns to leave. He takes a steadying breath, ducks around the fabric and is greeted with two sky-blue eyes and a sheepish looking smile directed his way.

“You’re here,” Gale breathes out, the sound of utter relief in his voice. John stares at him. He thinks the numbness in his feet might be creeping up into the rest of his body. “John?”

The small smile Gale had thrown him upon his arrival is wiped away as concern twists his features and John wants to laugh but all he can do is stare for some reason. He’s staring intently at the younger man, watches as his brows furrows and he shifts on the plastic wrapped table he’s sitting on.

“John,” Gale tries again, a wince pulling his features down for a moment. “You with me?”

The curtain draws open. The shrill sound of the metal rings grating against the pole makes John cringe and snap his gaze away from Gale to take in the sight of a white-haired nurse with a friendly smile, kind eyes and a clipboard in her hand.

“Is this the friend you mentioned?” She addresses Gale, walking over to where he’s sitting awkwardly hunched on the exam table. “The one you served with?”

John swallows and straightens his shoulders as the nurse’s eyes find his. He hears Gale clear his throat and mutter a quiet, “yes, ma’am.”

His hands are sweating where they hang uselessly at his sides. He can breathe easier than he managed to on the drive over, now that he has Gale in his sights, but his heartbeat is too fast, rabbiting away in chest like its being chased by a predator. His eyes flit from the nurse to Gale and back again and he knows he should speak, but his tongue feels heavy, and his mouth is dry, and he feels like maybe he should be the one sitting on the exam table.

“Nurse Amy,” Gale comes to his rescue. “This is John Egan. John, this is Nurse Amy. She’s the one that called you after making sure I was alright.”

Gale is looking at him with understanding and patience, concern and a little bit of what looks like desperation. His beautiful face is all bruised up, small cuts around his temple. Just like Regensburg. There’s blood on the collar of his shirt, not a lot, but it’s Gale’s and it’s not supposed to be on the outside of him, not ever again.

John’s breath hitches and Gale leans forward, eyes softening. “Which I am, John. I’m alright.”

He hears the nurse make a tutting sound, but he can’t take his eyes off Gale again. Ever again, maybe.

“X-rays came back, Mr. Cleven,” she says, all business. “You were correct in your self-assessment. No broken bones.” John watches as Gale nods as her, but his eyes immediately drift back to John. “But you do have a slight hairline fracture in your wrist, so we’ll need to wrap it.”

“Fine,” Gale clips out, polite but impatient. “Can you just give us a few minutes? Need to talk to my friend here about the truck.”

“I’ll be back in ten to wrap that wrist up for you, try to keep it still,” she agrees and then she’s gone and they’re alone.

“I don’t care about the damn truck,” John finally finds his voice, even if it sounds rough to his own ears.

“I know that,” Gale cocks his head a bit, his own voice sounds a little off now that John’s ears aren’t ringing as badly as before. “What’d you want me to tell her? Get out so I can have a moment alone with my fella?”

John wants to laugh; he loves it when Gale teases him. But a choking sound comes out instead and he shakes his head and just breathes. Gale starts to slide off the table and it makes John stumble forward, hands outstretched.

“Wait,” he says as he reaches Gale’s knees. He looks him over again, hating the evidence of any kind of violence on a man as sweet and gentle as Gale. “Just, stay there. Don’t move.”

“John, I’m fine,” Gale reaches out with his left hand, his right laying motionless across his lap. John’s eyes trace over the abraded skin and the already swollen looking joint. “Can you say the same?”

John pulls a face but can’t contradict the man sitting in front of him. He needs to pull himself together. Gale is here, he’s not blown to bits over Germany or lost behind enemy lines. But any kind of unknown right now is too much for John. He places a hand over one of Gale’s knees, lets his thumb start a back-and-forth motion, lets the repetitiveness of it soothe them both.

“You’re in the emergency room,” John points out. “People that are ‘fine’ don’t really get brought here.”

“Wasn’t my choice,” Gale grumbles, looking petulant and John kind of wants to shake him a bit. “You looked worse than me when you walked in here. Are you okay?”

“Tell me about all this?” He motions to Gale’s face, frowning and ignoring how Gale looks annoyed at him for brushing past his own question.

“Just got a bit banged up,” Gale tells him. John squeezes his knee and eases a bit at the eye roll it gets him. “Hit my head on the window when I hit the tree.”

“You hit a tree?”

“So that I wouldn’t hit the dog that ran out in front of me.”

And John wants to reprimand him. Wants to remind him that it’s a golden rule on the road not to swerve and cause more damage just to avoid an animal. But he also knows that the man in front of him would rather suffer these consequences than to ever take the life of someone’s pet. It’s one of the thousands of things he loves about him.

“Of course,” he returns, finally allowing a small smile to graze his own lips. It wobbles a bit at the look of relief it brings out in Gale’s eyes. “You’re really okay?”

“Mild concussion and a bruised jaw and you heard about the wrist. Everything else is superficial, I promise.” Gale tries to soothe, but all John can think of is how much worse this could have been. He closes his eyes, his breathing picks up a bit and then there’s a warm pressure on his chest and a matching one on his cheek.

“Breathe, darlin’,” Gale’s low voice whispers out between them and John shudders, letting his weight fall forward a bit against the strength behind Gale’s hand. “Just breathe. I’m right here. I’m okay.”

It takes him a few moments to grasp it, to accept it. Gale is hurt. But he’s okay. He’s going to be okay. The dueling sensations of relief and fear war inside of him to brew a nasty storm that leaves him feeling exhausted.

“This one really freaked you out, huh?” A thumb strokes over his cheek and John leans into the sensation. “I’m sorry, John.”

“God, baby,” John lets out on an exhale, opening his eyes and finding those beautiful blues looking right back at him. “I think I’m gonna have to homeschool you from now on. Can’t let you outta my sight.”

Soft huffs of laughter ripple from Gale and he looks up at him, amusement dancing across his face. “You an expert in advanced physics, Major?”

“You might just have to switch your major, Major.”

Gale grins at him and shakes his head and it feels so good to make him happy. It’s John’s favorite thing in the world.

“How about we settle for you driving me around again for a while? Just like old times,” Gale asks. “I might’ve totaled the truck.”

John nods an affirmative, ignoring the way the mention of their truck makes his pulse spike unpleasantly again. Gale removes his hand from his face, a grimace pulling at his brows as he lowers the injured limb back to lap.

“She told you to keep that still,” John chides, feeling foolish for not remembering sooner. “What am I gonna do with you, huh?”

Gale smiles up at him, a little innocent, a little playful.

“Whatever you want, John.”

This time the spike in his pulse is a pleasant one as he imagines all of the ways he can take of this man in the coming days.

“I’m holding you to that,” John tells him. It’s his turn now to reach out and cradle a bruised jaw, he frowns again at the bruising painted across the delicate skin and lets his thumb caress it for a moment. Gale’s eyes fall shut.

“It’s almost been ten minutes, Bucky.”

“I know, Buck.” He leans down and presses his lips to Gale’s forehead, lets them linger for a moment. Then another. Noses his blond hair and breathes him in. Overly bright blue eyes watch him step a respectable distance away to await Nurse Amy’s return.

He feels unsteady, but less like he might shake apart. Gale smiles at him from the table and he feels a little better.

----

Nearly an hour later, Gale’s wrist has been splinted and wrapped, he’s holding a bottle of painkillers that John knows he’ll have to fight to get him to take and he’s clumsily signed the abundance of paperwork with his left hand. It’s completely dark when they exit the emergency room, walking close enough together that their shoulders brush as they move.

A few steps from the truck, Gale stops in his tracks and John halts to match him, worry ratcheting back up.

“It’s Friday night,” Gale mutters, sounding a little frail. John pictures them savoring steaks and roasted vegetables and a pie after dinner and understands where his thoughts have strayed. After living in such a state of hypervigilance with stakes too high to contemplate for years of their lives, they now take the time to enjoy every slow moment of peace they can get together. Missing one feels monumental sometimes. John will just have to make this weekend one to remember.

“Hey,” John reaches out to squeeze his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow and the next day. And every day after that.”

Gale gives him a small smile, nods and lets John usher him to the truck, waiting patiently for John to open the passenger door for him. He stops again, one leg in the truck and looks back at John, brows pulled down in a frown.

“Are you sure you’re good to drive?”

John can’t help but laugh. “What? Are you going to drive us home, Mr. Concussion?”

“It’s only a mild one,” Gale grumbles. John rolls his eyes and pushes Gale up and into his seat, shutting the door on him before he can protest.

When he gets himself behind the wheel, Gale’s hand covers his before he can put the key into the ignition.

“Buck,” John starts, but one look at the concern in Gale’s eyes stops him from complaining.

“Think maybe, you started panicking when that nurse called ya.” There’s understanding in Gale’s gaze and John swallows heavily, images of a phone booth blurring with their soft green cabinets. “And I don’t know if you’ve really stopped yet. I hate the thought of you driving over here like that.”

And John understands where he’s coming from. They both have their bad days. They’re growing less frequent all the time, but they’ve been a witness to nightmares, to bouts of sadness and rage and fear and panic. He hates to see Gale like that, and John knows the feeling is mutual. The thought of it happening while one of them is alone is a reality they have to live with.

“I had to, Buck,” John points out. He doesn’t bother denying the allegation. “The only way I was going to be okay was to make sure you were okay.”

Gale ducks his head slightly for a moment, still not used to being the most important person in anybody’s world. But John’s been slowly teaching him how to accept it and he can’t help but smile when tired blue eyes lift back up to meet his.

“Slide your sweet self over here and let me feel ya while I drive,” Johns lifts his arm and rests it along the back of the bench seat. “That’ll be enough to keep my head on straight while I get us home.”

A moment of contemplation later, Gale slides over until his shoulder is tucked under John’s armpit. He rests his uninjured hand on John’s thigh, fingers gripping the fabric of his trousers and John smiles into his hair before reaching around him to start the truck.

“Take the back roads?” Gale looks up at him through his lashes and John’s heart rate finally settles into a normal rhythm now that it’s reason for beating is resting against him.

“You read my mind, sweetheart,” John presses his lips to the top of his head and turns onto the unlit road leading away from town, away from prying eyes.

Gale turns his body slightly on the seat and makes himself comfortable, settles with his head pillowed on John’s chest, arm draped over his waist. John lets his arm rest around his back, holding him close and planning on never letting him go.

#clegan #bucky x buck #clegan fic request #tender buckies #mota fanfic #mota fic #JoeyAlohaWrites

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f1stargirll · 11 months

Text

Conversation friends • Lando Norris

Chapter One

Word count : 2.150k

Hi guys this is my first time ever writing fanfic. I’ve had this idea for a while now and decided write it! So if any of y’all has feedback/ requests or constructive criticism I’ll be more than happy to listen! (or if u just wanna talk i’m here too <3)

Btw English isn’t my first language so don’t be too harsh on me pls🧚🏼‍♀️

Description : slow burn, college!au (enemies to lovers) and more to come.

I’m gonna make it work. I am going to make this work.

Looking around the tiny apartment I had just collected the keys to, the realization that I was finally here, alone, started sinking in slowly. This was going to be my home for the next year, a tiny apartment in a huge city I barely knew anything about, let alone knew anyone in.

It actually looks cozy, and at least it’s conveniently close to the University.

I really am going to make it work. I started unpacking and realized the need for groceries was imminent so I grabbed my keys and headed for the nearest store GoogleMaps indicated to me.

Strolling around the different isles didn’t feel as unfamiliar as I thought it would, I guess Lidl stores are always a relatively universal experience. But after a few minutes in the store, the bright neon lights and the exhaustion from the flight were seeping into my brain and making me slightly overstimulated.

Okay, got the pasta. Now I need pads and tampons and we’ll be good to go.

Mindlessly putting the cardboard box in my cart, I’m suddenly forced to look up from the huge list I had written on my phone when I feel a finger tapping my left shoulder. I quickly remove one of my headphones and turn around to face the person in front of me.

“Do you mind ?”a boy, around my age but slightly taller than I am, faces me and stares at me with an icy expression.

What’s his deal ? Wait he’s kinda…

“You’re in my way”, he spats.

He’s wearing a simple gray hoodie and sweatpants combo and a black cap hiding what seemed to be loose curls, some of them still peeking from underneath it. His baby blue eyes were piercing through me. He kept his airpods in his ears.

“I’m sorry ?” I responded slightly confused, not really hearing him well above Hozier’s new album playing in my ear.

“Do you not understand English?” He removes one of his hands from the pockets of his sweatpants to point at the box of pasta positioned right behind me, “I said you’re in my fucking way, I’ve repeated it 5 times and you’re still standing there like an idiot,” he mutters through gritted teeth, “unlike you, I don’t have all night.”

Oh, he did not just talk to me like this.

“Well there you go, almighty king of Lidl!” I exclaim while handing him the precious item, "your all powerful box of Linguini” I add, fake bowing down in irony, my face burning in anger. The exhaustion from the flight and the move had already made me easily irritable, but this was just the icing on the cake.

“Are you out of your mind?” he asks, snatching the box away from my grasp, “You just have to make a scene, huh? You’re hysterical” he huffs exiting the aisle, a baffled expression on his face.

So now I’m the crazy one? Unbelievable.

God this was the last thing I needed right now.

I sigh in exasperation, not having the strength to run after him and put up a fight.

This is going to be a long year.

Brushing my bangs slightly away from my eyes, I take a step back in my small bathroom to look for any flaws like unblended makeup or toothpaste stains on my outfit. I tend to have those a lot.

Today is my first day of class and an introduction to the daily life I was about to embark on, so looking and feeling good was quite important.

Taking the small commute to the campus, I sit next to Lola, a girl I met at the bus station earlier this morning. She instantly was very kind and helped me find my way, which turned out to be convenient for the both of us since we were heading towards the same classes. I told her about my trip from Paris and how I was here for a year abroad and she told me all about her dreams of visiting my hometown. We talked for the whole ride and exchanged Instagrams. Lola was a ray of sunshine, a gleam of light in this anxiety-inducing morning.

She also looked like the perfect representation of the sunshine; her hair a polar blond color, eyes as blue as the Mediterranean sea and a porcelain skin adorned with beautiful yet irregular freckles.

Having her by my side for the first classes felt really comforting and I was relieved to find out we shared most of our semester’s classes together. We were both English majors, and since she was here last year she had promised to help me with anything I wouldn’t understand; as I said, a ray of sunshine. We spent the day learning all about this year’s curriculum and all the work we were about to achieve.

Heading towards my last class of the day, the first meeting of what was called “Conversation Friends”. It was a program I had applied to while enrolling here, international students meeting local students once a week to exchange in English or the student’s native language. A program created to help international students better their English and make new connections.

Not knowing anyone here, I thought it would be a great opportunity to make a friend, share a nice moment and discover the city better.

But Lola warned me not to get too excited since most students in the university only did it to gain extra credit or even get a quick hookup out of it. Fine with me, people can do whatever they want, I believe I’ll still get to meet someone nice.

I like to think of myself as a pretty open person so it shouldn’t be too hard to connect with whoever it’ll turn out to be.

Walking into the amphitheater, I decide to choose a seat in the middle row and take out my notebook to write down some notes. Looking around, I can see a lot of different students from every corner of the earth and I suddenly feel a wave of comfort knowing I’m not the only one who left home for this new adventure.

“Is this seat taken?”a boy with a thick Australian accent asks while pointing to the seat on my left.

“Not at all, it’s all yours”I responded with a smile which he returned. And boy did he return it. That man was all teeth, and nose. I extended my hand to introduce myself, “my name is y/n, I’m guessing you’re Australian right?”.

He took my hand and shook it earnestly, “You’re good! I’m Daniel, nice to meet you”.

He sat next to me and we started getting to know each other quickly. Daniel seemed really kind and was really funny. I learned that he was majoring in geography (didn’t even realize that was a thing) and lives in the complex right in front of mine. He also has a passion for karting (didn’t know that was a thing either).

He’s cute. Daniel is really cute. With his little brown curls, sparkly eyes, and his smile, so big it could resuscitate a dying dentist.

He told me a little more about the program too since he had been part of it last year in a university in Montreal. He informed me that our partners were going to be chosen randomly and that we’re not allowed to change if we don’t get along.

That sucks. I hope my partner’s gonna be nice or funny, or both like Daniel. Well not just like Daniel but at least a little like Daniel, why do I keep talking about Daniel ? Daniel’s just really cute.

“So, how do you like it here so far?”he asks, crossing his long legs in front of him.

“Well, I’ve only been here for two days so I really couldn’t tell you much. I yelled at this very rude guy when I went shopping yesterday, all for some Linguini.” He questions my answer with an amused expression in his eyes.”I also met this really nice girl, Lola, she reminds me of you a little bit actually, must be the golden retriever energy.” I smile as I answer his question, feeling grateful for my encounter with the blonde this morning. At least.

“So you’re calling me a dog, after I’ve been nothing but kind, that’s what you’re doing? Wow y/n, wow.” He replies with a dramatic hand on his chest and a goofy smile on his face. “Can’t believe you fought over pasta.”

On the main stage, a professor clears his throat into the mic, telling us that the meeting is about to start. He then takes the first ten minutes to inform us on all the details of the program, like how partners have to meet at least once a week, on campus or in cultural instances like museums, cinemas or parks, some of which will be organized by the university and thus mandatory.

As if you have to ask me twice to go out for a movie, whoever it’s with and whatever the movie is, oh baby I am going to be in that seat eating my sweet popcorn. Except for horror movies, can’t watch those. I’m scared of everything horror or creepy, I can't even watch children’s movies like The Nightmare Before Christmas or Caroline.

The clanking of two fish bowls on the professor’s desks takes me out of my thoughts and I realize that he’s really about to pull out our names and assign us to partners like it’s the sunday lottery.

This is going to be very entertaining.

“Please stand up when I call out your name so your partner can see you as well,“ the professor instructs us.

His hand mixes around the first bowl of tiny pieces of paper and pulls out the first name “Daniel Ricciardo” he says into the mic, looking around for the Australian boy sitting next to me.

Daniel stands up proudly, waving at everyone in the audience like he’s on stage at a beauty pageant. His partner is next, a charming Asian boy called Alex, who was sitting front row and turned around to find Daniel and waved at him aggressively.

These two look like they’re about to have a lot of fun. Lucky Daniel.

Of course my name came up last, because why wouldn’t it ? I stand up as I hear my name being called out and let my eyes investigate the remaining students in the room, until I see him.

Fucking Linguini.

“Lando Norris” I simultaneously hear over the speakers as I see the boy who disrespected me in the middle of shopping yesterday stand up from his seat.

This can’t be real, this is a practical joke.

As his eyes meet mine I can see the smile he previously wore on his face disappear and make way for disgust as his brain processed how I looked so familiar.

The audacity of that man.

“Perfect! Apparently now everybody is paired with their partners,” the professor smiles in contentment, “now if every pair could please make its way to the front of the room to sign the register.”

As I make my way over to the front of the room, I see my so-called partner bolting towards the professor and hear him babbling about how he can’t be my partner and begs to trade with someone else.

“Norris, we both know you can’t afford to miss out on the extra credit, and the pairs have already been established, there’s no negotiation” the professor answers him sternly.

I can’t believe it. He was the one who was bad-mannered and almost verbally assaulted me in the middle of the store for nothing! I was actually considering putting this behind us to start the program on a good note and give him a chance but apparently that would be in vain. If he wants to be petty, I can beat him at his own game, that’s for sure.

Standing in front of him, I tilt my head to the side to meet his gaze “You are just unbelievable! I barely know your name and you’re already making me regret enrolling in this program.”

Looking right at me, he hands me the paper I have to sign without a word.

“You’re actually not going to talk to me? We barely know each other, this is ridiculous!” I exclaim in irritation, snatching the paper from his hands the way he snatched the box of pasta from my hands the day before.

“Can you not be annoying ? Or is that impossible for you?”he blurts out in resentment, “I’m just trying to do this thing and go home, you’ll find my email on the thing or whatever” he says without even giving you the time to respond.

This is definitely going to be a very long year.

#formula one #lando norris fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #formula one fanfiction #enemies to lovers #college!au #university!au

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kaitlynpcallmebeepme · 1 year

Text

Paint the Night Sky

Bang Chan x member!reader (more like the love he gives all his members)

Idea: Based off of this: https://youtube.com/shorts/zQg00zBAK30?feature=share

Member!reader and maybe felix takes bang chan shopping and gets him some colorful clothes and stay asks who designed it and he's cute about saying it was her

Requested: Nope.

Author’s Note: I know no one asked for anything Stray Kids related, but I wanted to do something short for Bang Chan’s birthday! (me face palming and picking this up a year later the day after his birthday, but on my birthday) I am working on some other ideas, including a pt 2 to Late Night Talking, a couple Spencer Reids, and Bucky Barnes one but I am trying to make those longer and more like an episode, so they’re taking a bit longer to write. Also, if anyone is a STAY and wants to talk Stray Kids, message me because I would like some STAY friends pls. Last thing, I couldn’t tell you what their dorm looks like now, so just imagine that they still all live together. I also couldn’t find Chan in a pink hoodie, but I feel like the pink dolfin one would be a hoodie he’d like. The title also sucks. lol.

Requests are still open. Feedback is always appreciated. Also, tell me if you want to be part of a Tag List and I’ll tag you when I upload something new. If you want to only be tagged when I upload something for a certain character or shows, let me know as well.

Warning: None, just general fluff.

Word Count: 570

You walked into the dorm with Lee Know after a bit of personal dance practice. It’s nice to practice with everyone, but it’s also nice to do some one-on-one practice to really help with your improvement. And who better than Lee Know to guide you.

“Do you want to help me make some food?” Lee Know asks you as he heads toward the kitchen.

“Yeah. I’ll put on something for us to listen to in the background.” You pull out your phone and see that the recent episode of two kids in a room came out, so you put that on as the background noise.

You start by cutting the cabbage to put in the tteokbokki. While Lee Know searched the freezer for something to fry. You both continue to make food for the boys as the episode plays in the background. There’s one particular bit of audio that catches your attention though.

Chan: "I need someone to go together. I can't shop at all."

Felix: “You Always Buy Black Clothes. You look like a Reaper.”

This got you thinking and you had to ask Lee Know to be sure. “Lee Know-hung?”

“Hmm”

“Does Channie-hung wear anything colorful?”

It took a second of silence for Lee Know to come up with an answer.

“I don’t keep track of what he wears.” That was the most Lee Know answer he could come up with. “But if he does, then usually the stylist put him in it.”

“Yeah, he wears a lot of black.” That got you thinking and your mind set on what to do tomorrow.

You two continued preparing food as the rest of the boys came in from doing their various activities throughout the day. When you saw Chan come into the kitchen, you enact your plan.

“Channie-hung, you doing anything tomorrow?”

“I was going to be in the studio then do Channie’s room, but I got nothing planned for the morning.”

“Good we’re going shopping.”

“Ok.” No an argument or anything, but Channie would honestly do anything for us.

“Be ready to leave at 8.”

*Time skip to next morning*

You and Channie head down to the shopping district in Seoul. Could you have done this online? Yes. But it’s like Christmas shopping. It’s better when you get out there and get the full experience.

You had to pull Chan away from anything black and white because he has a million of those already. You had to do that more times than you can count. You ended up going with a baby pink hoodie and baby blue shirts just to ease him into color more.

“You sure you like…” Before you could even finish, you were captured in one of Chan’s hugs. One of the ones that is fruitless to attempt to escape.

“It’s cute! I love it Y/N.”

Chan wore that hoodie all the way back to the dorms. You parted ways when Chan went to the studios and you went up to the dorms. A few minutes later, you see the notification of Chan doing Chan’s Room for Stay.

Transcript from the live.

“Hi Stay. Hi. Hellooooooooooo. Welcome to Channie’s Room.”

“Chan you look so lovely. No, Stays look more lovely. Chan you look so cute. Yeah, um… Y/N picked the sweater because I’m told I need more colorful clothes *stands up so Stay can see his sweater* it has dolphins on it. I like it.”

#bang chan #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #stray kids x reader #stray kids #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x gender neutral reader #stray kids 9th member

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football-and-fanfics · 1 year

Text

Vice-captain - Trent Alexander-Arnold

Who: Trent Alexander-Arnold Request: can you pls write about TAA getting the vice captaincy from Jürgen? i think that would be wonderful in you writing🥰🥰 Requested by: anonymous Warnings: none

"Trent!"

"Oh, now I've done it," Trent grumbled in response to Klopp calling him over from the other side of the pitch. It was the third day of Liverpool's training camp in Singapore, and so far today's training session wasn't exactly going Trent's way. He was being sloppy and anything but faultless, and he was sure he would get a telling off from Klopp for it now.

Trent sighed heavily and suddenly his shoes felt lead-filled as he strode towards Klopp. Andy clasped him on the back as he passed. "Head up, mate. You'll be alright." "Yeah," Trent mumbled, but he wasn't convinced about it.

Trent couldn't help but notice how Klopp had chosen a position on the other side of their training pitch, away from the rest of the team. This surely didn't promise much good.

"Boss, I know, and I'm sorry." Trent started his apologies as soon as he was within earshot of Klopp. He was well aware he hadn't been on par during the last training sessions and he was sure he was going to be told that now.

To Trent's surprise, Klopp gave him a big smile and slung a fatherly arm around him. "I'm naming you vice-captain." Trent stopped dead in his tracks, giving Klopp a look of utter bewilderment. "You're what?!" He heard what Klopp said, but he couldn't quite believe his ears. This was so opposite of what he had expected to hear, that Trent needed a moment to comprehend what he'd been told.

Klopp chuckled at all the different kinds of emotion crossing over Trent's face in only a matter of seconds, until he finally saw the spark of a tear glistening in Trent's eye, and he knew his words had landed.

"But only if you want to be vice-captain of course," Klopp added with a wink. "Are you serious?" Trent found his voice again. "It's been my childhood dream to one day be captain for this club. It's just... I wasn't expecting it to happen just yet."

Klopp tightened his arm around Trent's shoulders. "I think you're ready." "Really?" There was a nervous undertone to Trent's voice, yet a smile now broadened on his face. "Yes." Klopp sounded 100% convinced. "I've watched you grow over the years, on every level imaginable, into the wonderful man you are today. I know the team respects you, young players see you as an example for themselves, you set the bar high for everyone. What more could I ask for?"

Trent was speechless for half a minute as he processed what he'd just been told. "Thank you," he finally spoke again, "for having this kind of faith in me."

Trent felt the pride swell in his chest, now fully realizing what this meant. A smile was plastered on his face, and would probably not go away for days to come. Klopp tightened his arm around Trent's shoulders once more. "Never doubted you for a second."

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @ella33

Request an imagine | Add me to the tags list Trent Alexander-Arnold masterlist | General masterlist

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #football imagine #football blurb #football fanfic #football fanfiction #footballer imagine #footballer blurb #footballer fanfic #footballer fanfiction #footballandfanficstrentaa

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raffcus · 1 year

Text

egeria's 101 questions! (4.0 UPDATE!)

a silly list with my theories/speculations on the previous hydro archon to see if one of them is gonna to be true in the future! ( if you have some suggetions to on the list pls feel free to tell something to add)

egeria is coming back(reviving)

[no info yet]

2. egeria is a seele expy?

[no info yet]

3. egeria relationship with neuvilette was good/bad?

in the end of 4.0 archon quest, neuvillette says more about the rumors about the prophecy that cicles around fontaine, the prophecy that resumes: "in the end, the people will be dissolved into the waters, and only the hydro archon will remain, weeping on her throne… only that the sins of the people of fontaine be washed away" which is curious to see that he probably heard more about that prophecy by rumors not by egeria herself, very curious.

4. egeria relationship with furina (focalors) was good/bad?

also in the end of 4.0 archon quest, egeria tells about the prophecy on her last words: "in the end, the people will be dissolved into the waters, and only the hydro archon will remain, weeping on her throne… only that the sins of the people of fontaine be washed away" between 400 and 500 years, fontaine suffered (and continues to suffering) from a energy crisis left by egeria before going to Tunigi Hollow, now being sustained by Indemnitium that is produced by the Oratrice Mecanique d'Analyse Cardinale. there is a lot a problems left by egeria to furina and as we can see in the archon quest (4.0 and 4.1) and she isn't so Experience to take care such large duties by herself and requests neuvillete help most of time. so for me their relationship wasn't the most stable one (or there was a lack of communication between them).

5. egeria have a connnection with the nymph's dream set?

technically yes! nymph's dream set history is substantially connectic to the Narzissenkreuz Institute, the institue was lead by gentle-natured Oceanid as the position was established in honor of the first Hydro Archon, egeria.

6. egeria have a connection with The Hexenzirkel?

still zero information, but only this sussy metioned on furina character description:

7. egeria have a connection with the seelie race?

[no info yet]

8. egeria have a connection with the primodial one?

surprisingly yes!

if we looked the Wings of Merciful, Wrathful Waters wind glider, in description says:

"when that fist heart was removed, the envoy of celestia, the leader uopn whose shoulders lay the create life, came to the great primeval sea, and there she created another heart" "she was the tears that flowed into the orimodial sea, seeking communication and understanding."

that text indicate that egeria was a "heart replacment" for the primodial sea, created by the shade of life,the purpose to be a substitute of the hydro sovereign.

[new speculations!]

9. is egeria sins related to abyss?

10. egeria is connected to skirk?

#egeria #previous hydro archon #focalors #furina #neuvillette #genshin impact

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inthehytes · 1 year

Note

sashnetra and 43 pls!! (bonus: they kiss >:3)

This was such a fun way to get back into writing, I really hope you like it!!! <3

(Also my inbox is always open if anyone wants to request anything!!)

43. “You’re really beautiful.”

Anetra took a steadying breath as she reviewed the list in front of her. Only one name remained without a small check mark next to it, Sasha Colby.

She didn’t hate Sasha, far from it in fact. She’s been harboring a crush on the senior since last year when she and Sasha had been paired together on a group project. Sasha was everything Anetra liked in a person, caring and compassionate, quick and witty. If it hadn’t been for Sasha, Anetra was sure she would have failed the project and probably the class.

A quiet knock on the workroom’s door sent a flurry of nerves through her stomach while she watched Sasha enter, dropping her bag on the nearest table. Anetra cursed Luxx and Selena’s timing, wishing one of them was in the room to make the air less awkward. Luxx had gone out an hour ago in search of more thread at the craft store and Selena a half hour later to find her.

“Hey, Sasha. Good to see you again.” Anetra smiled, playing with the metal ends of the tape measure that hung around her shoulders. She tried not to stare but couldn’t help letting her eyes linger even if it was for a moment too long.

“Hey baby, did they leave you all alone in here?” Her smile was bright as she walked close enough for Anetra to smell the sweet perfume she was wearing.

“Something like that, Selena thinks Luxx got distracted by the bodega guy on the corner again instead of going out for what she was supposed to get.” Anetra chuckles at the memory of the last time Selena had to go out to find Luxx when a trip ran too long. “Do you want to get started? It won’t take long I promise. I’m sure you’ve got something better to do with your Friday night.”

“Better than hanging out with you and a bunch of creepy mannequins? Never.” The grin on her face turned more playful, her gaze lingering on the flush that creeped up Anetra’s neck and ears. “Jacket on or off?”

“Off please, it’ll be more accurate this way.” Sasha accepted Anetra’s reasoning and stripped off her fluffy coat. Anetra directed her to the homemade platform they had crafted out of spare wood from last year’s spring show and got to work.

Sasha was quiet as Anetra worked, getting her general measurements before moving on to the more specific ones that Sasha’s costume would require. By the time she got to Sasha’s chest she was almost able to forget the fact that it was Sasha. Until her tape kept slipping around Sasha’s bust and Anetra began to get flustered.

“Are you alright? You’ve been staring for a minute now.” Sasha’s voice was laced with concern and Anetra saw her hand twitch where it lay by her side like she wanted to lay it on Anetra’s shoulder. The younger girl jumped, pulling away from Sasha and letting the tape fall to the ground with wide eyes.

“I’m so sorry Sasha! The tape kept slipping and I couldn’t get the number right and you’re really pretty and smell nice. It's kind of distracting and I-“ Anetra cuts herself off, eyes widening further (a feat Sasha wasn’t sure was even possible).

“Easy honey, I was just teasing.” Her hand really does move now, reaching to rub Anetra’s arm soothingly. Her hands are just as soft and warm as she thought they would be and it takes everything in Anetra’s body not to lean into the touch. “For what it's worth I think you’re really pretty too. Hell, I’ve been trying to get your attention for the better half of the semester.”

“You, you have?” Anetra feels dumbstruck as she gazes up at Sasha, searching for a lie in her eyes but finding nothing but fondness and warmth.

“Mhmm, I was planning on asking you to dinner when we were finished here, but you seemed to have beaten me to the punch on confessing.” She steps down from the podium, right into Anetra’s space. They’re almost the same height now, Sasha only having a few inches on her. “Anetra?”

She’s too lost in the way her name sounds on Sasha’s lips to formulate a coherent response, stuttering out a quiet hum. Sasha’s free hand reaches up to cup Anetra’s face, manicured thumb stroking a soft path against her cheek.

“I’d like to kiss you now if that’s alright with you?” They’re almost nose to nose now as Sasha leans in. Anetra can faintly smell mint on her breath like she’d been chewing gum before she came. She can hear her pulse in her ears and has to take a steadying breath before she can answer with the press of her lips against Sasha’s own.

They would both be long gone by the time Selena and Luxx returned. The sheet with Sasha’s half finished measurements lay on the ground next to Anetra’s abandoned tape measure.

#Anetra #sasha colby #dr s15 #sashnetra #the return of wren writes :)

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goddamnmuses · 9 months

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GodDamnMenu

Mostly making this post because I thought up Goddamnmenu and I'm annoyed I've not used it anywhere... but Under the cut I'm gonna showcase all my potential muses.. and if anyone wants a thing from one of them either reply and let me know or send an ask being like "(muse name here) PLS!" and I'll write up a short thing. You can also just request one of my main muses too.

My main muses you can find here!

Potential Muses list:

Ken - Fandom: Barbie.

Benjamin Tennyson - Fandom: Ben 10

Kevin Levin - Fandom: Ben 10

OC: Diego Dynamic - Fandom: Cyberpunk

John Constantine - Fandom: DC

The Joker - Fandom: DC - FC not decided yet. Help welcome.

Nanaue aka King Shark - Fandom: DC - FC: King Shark.

Ted Kord aka Blue Beetle - Fandom: DC

Tim Drake aka Robin - Fandom: DC

Max Goof - Fandom: Disney - No live action FC yet.

OC: The Blacksmith - Fandom: Doctor Who - FC: Various (Depends on regeneration)

Rodrik Forrester - Fandom: Game of Thrones

Sandor Clegane - Fandom: Game of Thrones

Tyrion Lannister - Fandom: Game of Thrones

Andre Anderson - Fandom: Gen V / The Boys

Luigi - Fandom: Mario - No Live Action FC yet (Possibly Charlie Day)

Bowser - Fandom: Mario - No Live Action FC Yet (Possibly Jack Black)

Akihiro aka Daken aka Wolverine sometimes - Fandom: Marvel

OC: Benjy Parker (Alternate universe son of Peter) - Fandom: Marvel

Brian Braddock aka Captain Britain - Fandom: Marvel

Cloak of Levitation aka Levi - Fandom: Marvel

Franklin Richards - Fandom: Marvel

Marcus Milton aka Hyperion - Fandom: Marvel

Skaar - Fandom: Marvel

Katsuki Bakugo aka Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight - Fandom: My Hero Academia - No Live Action FC Yet

Shoto Todoroki - Fandom: My Hero Academia - No Live Action FC Yet

Vinsmoke Sanji - Fandom: One Piece (Netflix.. Still working my way through the anime.. will take me years)

Monkey D. Luffy - Fandom: One Piece (Netflix.. Still working my way through the anime.. will take me years)

Roronoa Zoro - Fandom: One Piece (Netflix.. Still working my way through the anime.. will take me years)

Saitama aka Caped Baldy - Fandom: One Punch Man - No Live Action FC Yet

Ren Amimya aka Joker - Fandom: Persona 5

Sly Cooper - Fandom: Sly Cooper - No Live Action FC Yet

Loid Forger - Fandom: Spy x Family

OC: B1-NG aka Bing - Fandom: Star Wars - FC: Generic B1 Battle Droids

Cal Kestis - Fandom: Star Wars

C1-10P aka Chopper - Fandom: Star Wars - FC: Chopper.

OC: CT-7473 aka Bunker - Fandom: Star Wars

Darth Maul - Fandom: Star Wars - FC: Maul (Maybe Sam Witwer too?)

Savage Opress - Fandom: Star Wars

OC: Grey - Fandom: Supernatural

OC: Ryan Thompson - Fandom: The Last of us

Geralt of Rivia - Fandom: Witcher

Laszlo Cravensworth - Fandom: What we do in the shadows.

OC: Death (Personification of Death) - Fandom: None - FC: Varies but primarily : Adam Driver. OC: Pan (Greek God / Ancient Being / Inspired by Peter Pan / Some Horror-esc vibes) - Fandom: None - FC: Varies but primarily: Daniel Radcliffe

#potential muses #ooc #starter call

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mvsicinthedvrk · 1 year

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a friendly psa about (some) asian names ✌️

this is not me coming to you as an admin (though this message has been admin-team-approved), this is me coming at you as an ollie, who is tired. and i am going to attempt to kindly educate, because i have been playing wei wuxian for three years, and there are still occasionally people who call him 'wei.' pls believe that i know it's not intentional and that it's definitely not meant maliciously, but it's still tiring. so!! i wrote this nice little guide to (some) asian names, and i am hoping you will read it, and potentially learn something about a different culture, if this is new to you 💕

east asian names are usually (not always! but usually!) structured as surname + given name. (aka family name first, then first name). so for example, my chinese character who is named mo xi, he's from the mo family, and his given name is xi. i mention this bc i have seen so many starter calls, etc, where people request from my characters using their last names, and i would love for this to stop. for my character named feng yu, his family name is feng, yu is his given name. that's why feng yu's brother is feng xin. they have the same surname, and that surname comes first 👍

**however!! this structure is not a broad-strokes rule; it doesn't necessarily apply to all asian characters or all characters from asian countries/fandoms. a lot of people still submit their apps for asian characters and prefer to list them on the taken/ooc pages with "given name + surname" in that order, so it's best not to make general assumptions. for example, sunny is listed on the ooc as playing an anime/manga character named madoka kaname. in this case, the character's given name is 'madoka' with the last name 'kaname.' how can you tell? if you look on the character's wiki page or on sunny's blog, either place will tell you that she does in fact go by 'madoka.' (so: you wouldn't want to assume that it's flip-flopped just because it looks like an asian name).

therefore, when writing with someone and trying to figure out how to write an asian name appropriately, generally the best thing to do is ask yourself: how is the other person structuring this character's name in their replies and starter calls? and can i look on the character's wiki page to figure it out if i'm unsure? finally, if neither of those help you, you can always just ask your writing partner. personally, i know my dm's are open and i'd rather someone come to me and say 'hey i was wondering how should i write X character's name' rather than see someone call them the wrong name, which makes me sad :((

finally, a note specifically for CHINESE names!!

with chinese names specifically, in mandarin you usually do call someone by their full name, even if it's someone you've known for a while. so whether i was longtime friends with wei wuxian or whether we just became friends recently, i would still call him 'wei wuxian.' this may seem overly formal, but i promise it's not.

now, it is acceptable to call someone by only their given name as long as their given name has more than a single character (syllable). so if i wanted to could call him just 'wuxian' it would be technically fine-- especially if we're talking/writing in english, that's fine. 👍 wen kexing can be called 'kexing.' chu wanning can technically be called 'wanning,' etc. it is odd for strangers, but if you know the person or especially if you're friends/close, it's definitely alright. (there's actually a lot of rules about nicknames/ closeness/ seniority and things like that, but without getting too complicated, you can assume this is generally fine.)

HOWEVER, if someone's chinese given name is one character (usually written with one syllable in pinyin/english), you really shouldn't call them just by that name. it's not technically rude, exactly, but it's awkward and off-putting at the very least. that's not what you call them. xie lian is 谢怜, with both names as one character each, so 'xie lian' can't just be called 'lian.' he can either be 'xie lian' (full name) or something like 'a-lian' if you really want to give him a nickname. likewise, pei ming cannot be called 'ming' even though that's his given name. he needs to be called 'pei ming' all together. mo xi is always called mo xi (never 'xi'), qi yan is always called qi yan (not just 'yan') etc. if you're not sure at a glance whether a chinese muse's given name is one-character or not, simply call them by their full name to be safe.

again, this might sound like a lot of work, but if you just look at my tag for xie lian or read whatever reply of mine you're working off of, you'll see me call him 'xie lian' in the narration, and you can just follow along with that. and once you figure it out one time, then ur good for any later interactions as well.

and that's it !! if you have questions, feel free to ask and i'll try my best to explain! don't feel bad if you've misnamed characters in the past, but i would really appreciate if people keep this in mind moving forward, because it will make my life so much more peaceful and relaxing. thanks for reading; i appreciate your time!!

#;; ooc ;;#[ chinese name psa ]

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oftenlyshitposting · 1 year

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alright, let's do this one last time folks

i'm oftenlyshitposting! you can call me offie or osp!

i'm not new in tumblr, but i have been inactive for years, and i've only recently revived and rebuilt my blog. sadly, due to absolute fuckery accident, that said blog was terminated, with most of my work in it. so, here i am now, audaciously gay and rebranded.

i'm still gonna use the same tags as i did on my old blog, before the catastrophic purge lol. listed, below:

- oftenlyposts: when offie post some type of media contents, mostly pictures with little commentaries, a la oftenlyshitposting of course

- oftenlyspeaks: this tag is used for whenever offie has some Thoughts to talk about, but not entirely coherent enough to form a full length meta-analysis, headcanon, or fics

- oftenlywrites: offie uses this tag to archive and sort their mostly full and coherent pieces such as a full/mini fics, headcanons, or meta-analysis; sometimes used hand in hand with tag:oftenlyspeaks

- oftenlyreblogs: schtuffs i reblog, of course, either with commentaries or none

- oftenly'sthoughts: this tag should be used interchangeably with oftenlyspeaks or oftenlywrites because it's mostly about my own sporadic Thoughts

- *oftenly'svid: self made videoclips!

- *oftenly'sgif: self made GIFs! (disclaimer: i am FAR from being an editor so pls forgive me if my GIFs are absolute dogshit quality 😭)

- oftenlygrumbles: this tag is used for whenever i (inevitably) rant lol

- [oftenly is reblogging their old posts]: ...traumatic but this is where i will store a lot of my contents from my old blog! so past hcs, fics, and thought pieces will be archived here

feel free to slide in my ask box if you'd like to request writing prompts about the fandoms i'm in, or knock on my messages for any discussions! :D

oh! and i read all of your comments, tags and all the hijinks in your reblogs because hey, they are funny! and i too, unashamedly put my thoughts/comments in the tags like a chaotic writer that i am lol

hope this lil guide helps!

#about oftenlyshitposting #oftenly's tags!#hope this mini guide helps lol i'ma chaotic tumblr used #USER #i'm mostly in sapphic star wars fandoms #so if thats not really up your pallate #just kindly whoosh me away

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littlemissgot7 · 6 years

Text

fever

Youngjae | 1800 words requested by @septetoile: you’re sick and youngjae cooks for you and does all he can to cheer you up

Being this sick was the absolute worst, but having a cute boyfriend to take care of you would make it better. Right?

Your day hadn’t started out that badly. You’d felt a little off when you woke up, but nothing that you couldn’t explain away with your record of sleep deprivation and stress, so you didn’t think much of it.

Cut to an hour later when you found yourself dry heaving into your toilet and wondering what you could have possibly done to deserve this.

You leaned back against the wall, eyes closed, as you tried to steady your breathing. Your throat hurt, your stomach hurt (in addition to feeling nauseous), your head hurt. Everything hurt and everything was terrible and you were pretty sure you were going to perish there on the floor of your bathroom in one of Youngjae’s old t-shirts.

Ah. Youngjae.

You clenched your jaw. Time to stop being melodramatic and get up. There had to be something in your apartment that you could keep down.

You made it all the way to your living room before you gave up, dropping down onto the couch and curling into as much of a ball as you could manage, groaning loudly. “I hate everything,” you mumbled to no one in particular, shaking slightly from the physical effort it had taken to get this far. This was the absolute worst.

---

You lifted your head when you heard the keypad sometime later, trying to decide if you should get up and fight the intruder or just let them finish you off. You hadn’t quite made up your mind when a face appeared above you.

Ah. Right. Youngjae.

You’d forgotten to text him to let him know you Felt Like Death and wouldn’t be able to meet him for your date that day. Right. Apparently he took matters into his own hands. Okay.

He wrinkled up his nose, staring down at you as he leaned over the back of the couch. “You don’t look so good.”

You reached up, the tips of your fingers brushing his cheek in the weakest possible attempt at a play-slap. “Ya jerk.”

He reached down, pressing his palm firmly against your forehead. “You’re really hot.”

This time, you gave him the best smirk you could manage and a sloppy wink. “You bet your ass I am.”

He laughed, leaning down further to press his lips to your too-warm forehead before his face broke into a smile. “I’ll make you something to eat! That’ll help you feel better! Have you taken any medicine? You stay here, I’ll get you some!”

Before you could protest (yes, you’d tried medicine, and no, it didn’t help, not when you’d just thrown it up barely five minutes later), Youngjae had disappeared from view, shedding his thick winter jacket. You thought about yelling after him but decided that would do more harm than good, and nestled back into the couch cushions.

You were asleep before he came back.

---

The loud clanging of a pot hitting tile floor ripped you from a fitful sleep. You stayed completely still, wishing you’d misheard, but more clanging followed and you grudgingly pulled yourself to your feet. You stopped when you were upright, clinging onto the back of the sofa until the nausea passed. When you were fairly certain you were able to walk, you straightened. Time to go see what Youngjae was up to.

---

“Youngjae.”

He looked up, a wave of guilt flashing over his face for just a second before he frowned. “Why are you up? You’re supposed to be resting!”

You were standing in the doorway, eyebrow raised.

There were noodles all over the floor, some half cooked and some raw. Sloppily-cut pieces of raw chicken were spread out across half of the counter, and he’d just dumped the largest chunks of carrots you’d ever seen anyone attempt to put in soup in the pot he’d retrieved from the floor. Your carefully-arranged spice cabinet was open and had been torn through; spice bottles littered the counter, one tipped over and spilled out everywhere.

“What’re you doing?”

Youngjae blinked. He gestured lamely at the mess around him. “Making you chicken soup.”

It was sweet. It was so sweet that he wanted to go through the trouble to try to make you soup from scratch when you were sick, but your head was still pounding and the state of your kitchen was definitely not helping you feel a whole lot better. You shuffled to the pantry, yanking out a can of chicken soup and shoving it into his hands.

“Please,” you mumbled. “Just canned soup is good.”

All the tension fell out of his shoulders and he beamed, carefully steering you back to the living room. “I’ll fix it up real quick, you wait on the couch!”

“I can–”

“No, I got it!” He pressed on your shoulders until you gave in and sat back down. “It’ll just be a second!”

“Don’t–Youngjae–you can microwave–take it out of the can first please–”

You groaned, dropping your face into a pillow. Death truly was determined to come for you this day.

---

It took longer than it should have for Youngjae to open a can of soup, dump it in a bowl, and microwave it, but he got it eventually. He attempted to feed it to you and you did your best to keep it down, stubbornly ignoring the way your stomach was twisting itself in a million directions while he went back to clean up the mess he’d made. You’d offered to help (though you weren’t sure if you actually could) but he refused, demanding that you stay on the couch until you felt better.

You whined.

You didn’t want to stay on the couch. You were tired of the couch. You wanted to go hide under blankets on your bed, which was infinitely more comfortable and further away from the noise coming from the hallway (seriously what the fuck were your neighbors even doing–oh, right, the new people were moving in). But every time you tried to get up, Youngjae would cheerfully push you back down before dashing off to scrub the chicken goop off your counter.

You finally saw your chance when he left for a couple minutes to take out the garbage. Fighting down the ever-present nausea, you shuffled to your bedroom and collapsed on your bed, a contented sigh escaping your lips. So much better than the couch.

A second later, you felt something heavy and soft fall over your body; you blinked open your eyes to find Youngjae pouting over you as he tugged your favorite blanket up to your chin.

“I was gonna carry you back here when I got done,” he mumbled dejectedly in response to your confused glance.

A genuine smile blossomed over your lips and you grabbed his hand. “I’m sorry I beat you to it.”

He sighed dramatically, sitting on the edge of your bed and carefully brushing your hair out of your face. “How could you?” He tried his best to sound hurt.

You laughed, but it dissolved into a cough and you groaned instead. “Sorry about our date too.”

He shrugged lightly. “S’not your fault you got sick.”

“Yeah, but…”

He patted the top of your head. “You know how you can make it up to me?”

You shook your head slowly.

“Letting me kiss you senseless!”

You immediately burst into laughter – he sounded so ridiculous – but honestly the playful banter was making you feel better than you had all day. “First of all, that wouldn’t take an awful lot right now–”

“Meh, I still–”

“–And second of all,” you cut him off, shaking your head, “you’re already in enough danger of catching whatever I’ve got. Kissing me certainly wouldn’t help your chances.”

And he was pouting again, looking far too much like his cute puppy. “I don’t caaare.”

“Yeah, but I think your company might.”

“But I wanna kiss you!”

“Well, I wanna kiss you too, but I don’t want you to get sick!”

“But if I don’t care then it’s not a problem!”

You groaned, covering your face with your hands. “Youngjae!”

He wrinkled his nose, obviously more than a little frustrated at your protests. He just wanted to kiss you, dammit!

It only took a second for him to hatch what he thought was a truly brilliant plan.

“Hey, babe?”

“I’m not gonna be responsible for getting you sick, Youngjae!” Your voice was muffled behind your hands and you squeezed your eyes shut for extra protection against his puppy dog eyes.

He sighed, standing up and tapping his foot. “No, I just thought of something else that might make you feel better.”

“Not kisses?”

“Mmmm, that’s not what I was thinking of at the moment.”

Very hesitantly, you peeked through your fingers.

The second he saw you looking, he tugged off his t-shirt and threw it unceremoniously on the floor. Suddenly you felt way too warm.

Every thought you’d ever had melted away into the deep corners of your brain. “I think you’re the one who’s real hot,” you mumbled, distracted by staring at his toned chest.

He wiggled his eyebrows, grinning teasingly, and slid around to the other side of your bed, dropping onto it and grabbing the edge of your blanket. “You gotta share.”

“Huh?” You tore your eyes away from him, finally realizing that he wanted under the blanket, but he’d yanked it out of your hands and snuggled up next to you before you had a chance to, once again, reiterate how terrible of an idea this actually was. Honestly, you weren’t sure you wanted to reiterate how terrible of an idea it was because he wrapped his arms around your waist and tucked his face in your shoulder and, god, if that wasn’t the best possible feeling in the entire world.

“And does this make you feel better?”

It was your turn to pout, this time at the unmistakable laughter in his voice because he knew for a fact that you could never say no to snuggles.

“...Yeah,” you admitted grudgingly. “And I guess–”

Before you could stop him, he’d pulled himself up just enough to steal a quick kiss.

“Youngjae!!”

He smiled innocently. “Just the one!”

You sighed, rolling your eyes as you wiggled slightly to get comfortable in his arms. “Fine. But just the one!”

He raised an eyebrow playfully. He had you and he knew it.

“...For now. Maybe...maybe more. Later. Shut up, quit staring at me like that, this isn’t fair!”

He tightened his grip around your waist, looking all too proud of himself.

“I’m the best nurse.”

You deadpanned, which he took as an opportunity for another peck before bursting into laughter.

“You’re an idiot, Choi Youngjae.”

“Yeah, but I’m your idiot.”

Despite the fact that you knew you were supposed to be mad at him, you smiled.

Yeah.

He was yours.

#youngjae #choi youngjae #youngjae scenarios #got7 #got7 scenarios #a fluff! a youngjae fluff!#from my requests list from LAST YEAR pls help me #but yes i hope y'all enjoyyyy!!!

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litaskick · 2 years

Note

I heard you were taking edge requests 🫣, how about adam wanting to propose, but is still hesitant? sorry, this is such a random request, but I just wanted to request something for edge lmaoo xx

AHHHHHHHH, you anon, are now my favorite, and i’m gonna need you to keep sending edge requests my way, like rn pls

my requests are open, request here - who i write for - request rules - Edge Master List

summary: Adam wants to propose to you, he really, really does, yet he still has all these fears holding him back.

Finally

He was hesitant, he really was, and now he didn't know why he had bought that ring in the spur of the moment. Adam had wanted to propose for a while, but he been going back and forth on if he should or not. When him and Christian were out, he stopped at a jewelry store randomly, and there he found the perfect ring for you. So on impulse, he bought it, but now he wasn't so sure if he should have. You and Adam had been together since just shortly after his WWE debut. You had became friends in 1998, then he had asked you out a year later in 1999, and you two had been going strong. But now it was 2006, 7 years later, you two had been dating for 7 years, and he felt guilty almost. Guilty that he hadn't proposed yet, because he loves you so much, he really does, and he truly does want to spend the rest of his life with you. And he knows you love him with everything in your soul, he knows that you're just waiting for the day he finally proposes. But he can't help but feel this feeling of hesitance, something just won't let him propose to you. Adam keeps thinking of every single thing that could go wrong.

you two are still too young

you aren't ready for that commitment yet

he isn't ready for that commitment yet

you turn him down

you two fall out of-

"Adam."

Hearing his name snapped him out of his thoughts. Adam turned his head to see Christian beside him.

"Hey man, what's wrong? You've been all quiet and nervous." Christian asks.

The two of them were hanging out in Christian's hotel room, eating lunch, while you went around the city with Trish and Lita for a girls day.

"Nothing. Nothings wrong." Adam stuttered.

Christian gave him a knowing look.

"Fine! You got me." Adam exclaimed, a sigh escaping his pink lips.

Christian urged him to continue.

"It's just, I'm so conflicted on proposing to y/n." Adam spoke.

"Conflicted? Why? You two are actually like the most annoyingly in love couple, it actually makes me want to throw up sometimes." Christian questioned.

Adam punched his arm teasingly. "It's not that, of course I'm in love with her. I really do want to propose, it's not that I don't want to. It's just- I can't stop thinking about everything that could go wrong, you know? Like what if we're just not ready, or she doesn't want to be engaged yet."

"Adam, you two have been together for 7 years. You know everything there is to know about one another, and you two would literally do anything for one another. I think you guys are ready for this, actually I know you guys are ready for this." Christian tells him, a hand on Adam's shoulder.

Adam nods, wanting him to continue.

"At Trish's wedding last month, didn't you notice y/n looking over to you during the ceremony? Like she was silently telling you that she wished that it was you two up there getting married." Christian asked.

"Yeah, I just didn't think much of it I guess." Adam muttered.

There was silence for a moment between the two of them. "You really think that's why she was looking at me during the ceremony?" Adam questioned.

Christian nodded. Adam pulled out the velvet box from his back pocket, opening it up to look at the ring.

"You keep it with you in your pocket?"

"Yeah, I do." Adam mumbled.

"You planning on doing it tonight?" Christian questioned.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

You walked down the sidewalk, looking through all the shop windows, your best friends beside you.

"So Trish, how was the honeymoon?" You asked, readjusting the shopping bag in your hand.

"Oh it was wonderful! The beach was so nice, I definitely needed a little getaway." She explained.

"I wish I could go on a getaway." Lita chuckled.

"Speaking of honeymoons, y/n when are you and Adam going to get married. It feels like you two have just been dating forever." Trish asked.

"Oh- I don't know, we aren't even engaged or anything yet, you know that." You mumbled, taken a back by the sudden question.

"Well why hasn't he proposed yet? I mean c'mon, you two have been together for 7 years, and you were friends even before that. It's about time he proposes to you." Trish questioned.

"Um, I don't know why he hasn't yet. We're fine though, it's not like it's causing any issues or anythi-"

"I'm sure Adam has his reasoning for not doing it yet Trish." Lita cut you off, trying to get you out of the uncomfortable situation.

"I guess so." Trish mumbled.

You guys walked a little further until Trish found another shop. "Ooo, I need to go in here. This is where I get a lot of Christmas gifts. You guys good to stay out here for a little while?" Trish asked you two.

You and Lita nodded, sitting down on a nearby bench. You were silent, and Lita took notice.

"Hey, you okay?" She asked you.

Your head popped up, looking her in the eyes. "Yeah, I guess so. Just thinking about what Trish said." You answered.

"What about it?" Lita asked.

"What do you think Adam's reasoning is for not proposing yet?" You asked her.

"Well, I'm no expert on the matter, but I do know Adam loves you, so I'm sure there's a good reasoning as to why he hasn't yet. Maybe he's just afraid of what could go wrong. Like maybe he's afraid that you aren't ready for that yet, or something like that." Lita explained.

You nodded slowly. "Yeah maybe."

You felt your Nokia phone go off in your pocket. You got it out, it was Adam texting you.

Adam: You having fun?

You: Yeah. Me and Lita are waiting for Trish to get out of a store.

Adam: Gotcha. Are you guys going out to eat dinner?

You: No, I don't think so.

Adam: Ok, you want me to order you some room service when I order mine in a minute then?

You: Yeah.

Adam: What do you want?

You: Do they have salad?

Adam: They do.

You: Alright, then just get me that.

Adam: Ok babe, see you in a bit. I love you.

You: Love you too.

You closed your phone and put it back in your pocket.

"Who was that?" Lita asked you.

"Adam, he just wanted to know what I wanted him to order me for dinner." You told her.

Lita just nodded.

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

Adam heard the door to the hotel room open, he turned and looked at the clock.

10:00

He had been waiting almost an hour for you to get back. You walked in, seeing Adam shirtless, only in pajama pants, sitting on the bed waiting for you with the bag of food.

"Hey babe." He greeted you, getting up off of the bed to give you a kiss.

"Hi." You smiled.

"I missed you." Adam mumbled, leaving multiple kisses all over your face.

"I missed you too." You said quietly, pulling away. "I'm gonna go change."

Adam nodded, freeing you from his arms as he went back to the bed. Once you got into the small hotel bathroom, you changed quickly into your sleep shorts and a top. After today, especially the whole thing with Trish, you were ready to just eat and go to sleep. When you walked back out, he already had your food laid out on the bed right next to his. You two sat in a silence while you ate, the only noise in the dark room being the tv, too much was on both of your minds. For you it was what Trish had said today, and for him, it was about the proposal. Adam looked over at you.

“Hey hon, you okay?” He asked.

You looked over at him, your eyes meeting his hazel ones. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“About what?”

“Something Trish said today.” You muttered quietly.

“What’d she say?” Adam asked.

“Just something about us not being engaged yet.” You told him, looking down at your empty bowl of salad, you placed it on the nightstand.

Adam silently gulped. He fished out the small velvet box from the pocket of his pajama pants, taking a deep breath.

“Hey.” He said, trying to get your attention.

You looked back over at him, taking in his nervous state.

“Um, I know this really isn’t the best place to do this but I just need to do this right now.” Adam stumbled over his own words.

You looked at him, confused by what he meant. You noticed a small box in his hands, and you watched as he opened it to reveal a gorgeous diamond ring. You eyes went wide, your breath hitching, you felt a sudden wave of emotion crash over you. Adam flashed you a small smile, noticing your reaction, before continuing.

“I‘ve been wanting to do this for the longest time, you don’t even understand. But I was just afraid it was too soon. I think it’s time now though. I love you so much babe, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, I want to have little babies, maybe even a dog, I want to share a home with you, and most importantly, I want to share my last name with you. I want you to be Mrs. y/n Copeland. So honey, will you marry me?” He finally popped the question, his voice wavering in the slightest.

All you could do was nod, tears falling from your eyes due to his sweet words. Adam smiled as he slipped the ring delicately onto your finger. He smiled up at you, placing both of his hand on either side of your face and bringing your lips to his own.

“I love you.” You smiled tearfully.

“I love you too, so much.” Adam said, laying back onto the pillows and laying you on top of him so your head was on his chest.

“I feel so much better now that that’s finally off my chest.” Adam chuckled.

You laughed with him, tracing the tattoo on his shoulder with your finger.

“I’m so excited.” You whispered.

“About what?”

“The future. Our wedding, the honeymoon, maybe getting a new home, like an actual house, not an apartment.” You explained.

Adam smiled so hard, it made his cheeks hurt. “I promise that our wedding is going to be everything you’ve ever dreamed of.”

“As long as your at the alter, it will be everything I’ve ever wanted.” You told him tiredly.

“Well I can definitely promise that, my love.”

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