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mentally-a-slut · 6 months ago

Note

Can I request "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop." For Gale with female reader please?

Ahhhhh tysm for requesting! You are my first request! Since you didn't give any specifics about the time frame, I just assumed you wanted it to take place within the events of the game, but it didn't really matter anyway. The reader is left undescribed, though it is implied that she is shorter than Gale. I hope I did your request justice, and let me know what you think!

Prompt: "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

Rating: E

Warnings: I got carried away and made "spicy" into straight up smut... oops? oral (f!receiving), porn with very little plot, smut

Flirting with Gale was a dangerous game. The back and forth we had going on had been constant, never pausing. I loved bantering with him, but the consistent pull back was beginning to kill me.

Harmless flirts with friends are fun, but I had made it abundantly clear to the wizard that it was more than just friendly banter. And as far as I'm concerned, he's been returning that same energy. And yet, every time we get past the line of flirtatious remarks and balance on the edge of action, he would completely pull away. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was afraid of intimacy.

At first I thought he just didn't like me that way, only wanted to banter with nothing coming of it. But something in the way his eyes glittered when he looked at me told me my attraction was not one sided.

When I went to the others for advice, they gave me jack shit. Astarion thought it was hilarious that I was asking him for romantic advice. I had to threaten to cut off his blood supply just to get him to quite yelling about it. Karlach just told me to "fuck it out," whatever that means. Shadowheart just kind of stared at me blankly. I didn't even bother asking Lae'zel, because I value my life. Wyll had good intentions, but he ended up rambling on about proper courtship methods and respectfully, I couldn't care less.

I had exhausted all of my options, which left me with the one thing I had been avoiding: talk to Gale about it.

It was a cool night, a nice change from the overwhelming heat that had layered over our group the last few nights. The day had been uneventful for once, little more than a few ambushes along the roads and some cackling hyenas. The mood around camp was significantly light than usual, everyone content with the lack of carnage.

I didn't give myself much time to rethink my actions, deciding to force myself into the conversation before I could chicken out.

Gale sat in his tent, reading a book with the doors pinned open for anyone to enter. He always stayed awake later than the others, often waiting until everyone else had closed their tents for the night to follow suit. He thought nobody noticed, but it was one of the many things that made me gravitate towards him. He was so naturally protective, unknowingly watching out for everyone.

As always, I took a moment to admire him before he noticed my presence. He looked so calm, contently scanning the pages of the tome in his hands. His everlasting yearning for knowledge was something I couldn't help but admire. I watched as his fingers curled under the parchment of the book and gently flipped the page, hands calloused from years of magical studies.

Gods, his hands that were so veiny and strong, rough but gentle, perfect to glide across my skin and make me shiver with-

"To what do I owe the pleasure?"

I jumped at the sound of his voice, my thoughts that had previously consumed me dissipating. My face felt hot, blushing as if he was able to read my runaway thoughts. "Hi!"

I internally scolded myself for how not-smooth I was being. He carefully marked his place in the book before setting it aside, still seated in his chair as he looked up at me expectantly. His lips twitched into an amused smirk. Handsome bastard knows exactly what he does to me.

"Did you need something from me?"

I tilted my head at his question, blinking as my thoughts grew a mind of their own. I need you to kiss me until I can't breath. Touch me all over and make me shake with pleasure. I shook my head, gathering my thoughts before saying: "Just... wanted to talk to you about something."

He raised an eyebrow, an action that would have had me down on my knees if I had even just a tad bit less dignity. "Is it... a good something, or a bad something?"

My heart started racing in my chest, blood rushing in my ears. "Uhm... well, I suppose it depends. I think it's a good something, but, well, I can't speak for you..."

He stood from his seat, his movements quick but not aggressive. He always took care to control his actions, never making them seem offensive or startling. My eyes widened slightly when he reached behind me to unpin the tent flaps and let them fall closed, his frame slightly hovering over me for a moment as he did so.

His expression was open, concern and care written all over his face. "You can always talk to me. I'm here to listen."

Good gods I want to suck his dick until his brain explodes.

I cleared my throat and shifted nervously, looking up at him. "Right! So, I just... well, I was talking to the others about- actually that's not a good place to start, uhm..."

His amused smirk didn't go unnoticed. He had always liked when I got nervous, especially if he was the reason. "Take your time, darling."

Fucking Hells, he is trying to kill me.

I fought the urge to avert my gaze, forcing myself to keep eye contact. "Uhm, so, you know how we... well, obviously you know, but I mean- Fuck's sake, I mean to say, you know how we, like, flirt?"

His expression didn't falter, smirk growing into a knowing grin. He hummed an acknowledgement that sent vibration through my body, making my heart race even faster. His gaze flickered over my face, then quickly swept down my body, almost fast enough to miss.

"Well, I- Not that I don't like it, I love it! I- I mean, I don't want it to stop I just- Gods damnit, I just wanted to ask- shit... Why don't you just fucking kiss me already?!"

The silence that followed my stuttering words was overwhelming, blanketing over me and making me want to melt away into the earth to never be seen again. My embarrassment only worsened when I heard the slightest chuckle from the man in front of me. My heart dropped as every worst case scenario ran through my head.

He's going to laugh at me, tell me it was just for fun, that he would never want to be with me, he's going to make fun of me to everyone else-

"The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I would be able to stop."

I was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the close quarters of the canvas tent, and how Gale was only a few inches in front of me. I brought my eyes up to meet his, blinking rapidly as I tried to process what he just said. His stare held mine, a underlying air of vulnerability in his confession. With a shaky breath, I managed to utter out my response.

"Who said you had to stop?"

His lips crashed against mine within seconds of my hushed words, heated kiss melding our lips together. His hands, his gorgeous hands that I had spent weeks fantasizing about, were gripping my waist and pulling my body flush against his. My mouth moved in sync with his so naturally, so smoothly, that we could have been made for each other.

When I realized my hands were idle, I quickly remedied it and wrapped my arms around his neck. I didn't even notice I was tangling my fingers in his hair until I tugged lightly and was rewarded with a soft groan against my lips. The noise spurred me on, and I nipped at his lip lightly. Soon, our tongues were wildly clashing together, breathing heavy as involuntary sounds of pleasure were exchanged within the kiss.

I yelped when he suddenly lifted me off the ground, hands firmly gripping my ass as he held me. I held onto him, giggling into the kiss as he pressed against me. The stiffness of his arousal against my thigh was enough to make me shiver with anticipation, and he noticed.

He pulled away from my lips reluctantly, settling his forehead against mine. "As much as I want to do this," he glanced down at our positioning, my core level with his growing erection, "I want our first time to be something special."

I tried not to show my disappointment, silently nodding as I prepared myself to drop back onto the floor. As I loosened my thighs from his waist, I squeaked in surprise when his hands roughly squeezed my ass. "Ah ah, I didn't say I was doing to leave you wanting, did I?"

My cheeks reddened as I realized what he was implying. "Oh, Gale, you don't have to-"

"I want to. Trust me, I really, really want to."

His words were drawn out, almost a moan as he pleaded. His darkened eyes were practically begging. "I... If you're sure-"

He cut me off with a searing kiss, turning us around and laying me down on his bedroll. My whole body tingled with excitement as his body hovered over mine, lips desperately kissing down my neck. With the way he was panting as he nipped and kissed down my body, I could almost say he was more excited then me.

His stare was piercing as he looked up from my waist, silently asking for permission. I couldn't help but smile as his fingers grazed the waistband of my pants, impatiently fidgeting with the fabric. "Yes, please, Gale."

He all but tore them off, taking both my pants and underwear off in one go. His hot breath tickled my arousal, and I sighed as his hands lightly caressed the insides of my thighs. His touches were gentle, slow movements spreading open my legs and bearing my glistening entrance to him. I tilted my head up to look down at him, only to find his gaze transfixed between my legs. He practically whimpered his next words: "So fucking pretty for me."

I couldn't help but moan at his words, the heat of his breath ghosting over my clit. His eyes broke away for a moment to look at me, and he gave me a smile that made my heart swell before he dove in.

His beard rubbed against my thighs as his lips and tongue explored my cunt, the burn of his jaw emphasizing the blinding pleasure of his mouth. He moaned against me as he licked a long stripe along my folds, the teasing sensation sending a jolt of want through me. Before I could beg for more, his lips wrapped around my clit, sucking gently as he teased a finger at my entrance.

All coherent thought was left behind, all I could think about was Gale, Gale eating my pussy, moaning into me, rutting into the air as he pleasured me. "Fuck, Gale, please!"

He hummed against me, the vibration adding to the pleasure. He slipped a finger into my dripping hole, pulling his mouth away from my clit to look up at me. "Look at you, darling, so wet and ready for me."

I moaned as he pumped his finger, keeping eye contact with him. When he teased a second one, I couldn't stop my head from falling back with a moan. "Please!"

With a soft groan, he did as I asked. "As you wish."

The stretch of his second finger burned deliciously, his pace torturously slow. My walls pulsed around him, the softest parts of me jolting as he brushed against them. His thumb brushed against my clit as he quickened his pace. I reached out a shaky hand, tangling my fingers in his soft hair and tugging him forward.

He moaned at the tug, immediately replacing his thumb with his mouth. My back arched off the bedroll as he sucked harshly, his fingers brushing against all the right spots. He teased another finger, and my grip in his hair harshened. It must have encouraged him, because he soon plunged a third finger inside of me and relentlessly flicked his tongue over my clit as he finger fucked me.

My thighs began to constrict around him, orgasm fast approaching. He groaned against my cunt, gripping my thighs open and speeding up. "Fuck, I'm close!"

Another hum against me had my walls pulsating, orgasm crashing through me as he coaxed me down with his tongue sending overwhelming jolts of pleasure through me.

He gently removed his fingers, caressing my thigh as he swept his tongue through my folds, gathering my arousal. His gentle movements soothed me through the slight overstimulation as he cleaned me up with his tongue. My vision was unfocused, aftershocks still rolling through my body as he finally pulled away, slowly kissing up my body before planting a sweet kiss on my lips. I chased his kiss as he pulled back, and he chuckled as I pouted. "You did so well for me, love."

I whined at his words, desperately clawing him towards me and pulling him into a slow, sensual kiss. His clothed erection prodded my bare thigh, and he groaned when I shifted against it. "Don't tease me, darling."

I smiled up at him, tilting my head. "Is that a threat?"

He gave an amused hum against the skin of my neck, speaking between soft kisses. His words were teasing, yet heavy with intention.

"It's a promise."

#fem!reader #bg3 gale #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #gale x reader #x reader smut #one shot #afab reader #azi's creations #female reader #x reader #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 x reader #request

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 8 months ago

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Mimi ❤️!! Congratulations on hitting 450 followers 🥳!!

If you'd like, could I suggest Commander Wolffe and the prompts: 18 and/or 35?

😘

Awww @ulchabhangorm thank you, love!

I realized on my previous post, I didn't put a warning. Oops. Anyway, I'll include a warning this time.

Enjoy.

Just Breathe

Warnings: anxiety, slight panic attack, mentions of death, broken finger, surgeries, medical procedure, kissing.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

You took a deep breath, needing to calm down your mind. There’d been just too many injuries, too many bloody soldiers, too many you couldn’t save. It was just all too much. You just needed peace and quiet. Needed to remember you were more than just someone who stood by and watched soldiers die.

Wolffe was looking for you, he knew in battles like this, you always suffered the most. You always made sure everyone else took the time to recoup, while you ploughed through the difficult carnage. He smiled when he saw you standing outside of the camp looking up to the stars, he loved the way the moonlight illuminated your face, your bright eyes that were full of sadness pulled on his heart strings.

“You shouldn’t be out here by yourself.”

It was the only reprimand he would give you on a day like this, he walked up behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you in close to his chest.

“I know. I just … I just needed to breathe.”

He rested his lips on the side of your head, pressing a gentle kiss, “Hmmm, and did you?”

You swallowed the anxiety, fighting back the tears, “I think so…”

“Doesn’t sound like it”

A shuddering breath escaped your lips; you hated how much Wolffe really knew you, how much you tried to be strong. You turned in his arms and held him close, burying your face in the crook of his arm and shoulder, wanting to escape from the reality that was this world.

“It’s okay, cyar’ika. I got you.”

You simply nodded, letting your tears escape, and finally finding the comfort you had been so longing for, as you felt Wolffe bury his face in your hair, his breath on your neck, and his hand rubbing your back up and down.

You shifted when you realized he kept his left hand elevated and away from you. You wiped your tears as you looked into his warm eyes that would always be your home.

“Wolffe, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He shook his head, ignoring the pain in his hand. He looked at his cyar’ika’s face which told him you didn’t believe him. He let out a sigh, he didn’t want you to be worried about him, “It’s nothing, don’t worry about it, cyar’ika.”

“Now, I know there’s something wrong,” you pulled back and looked at him, holding out your hand for him, “Show me.”

“Cyar’ika, let’s worry about you. I can wait.”

“I’ll keep standing here, and not saying anything until you show me your hand.”

“Well, I can play that game too, cyar’ika.”

You nodded, and stood in front of him, hand raised, keeping your eyes locked on his, with an unimpressed face. You stood there staring at each other for a good ten minutes before finally he caved, “Alright, alright. Here.” He placed his left hand in yours, his glove was off, his middle finger bent at an odd angle.

“Wolffe, your finger is broken!”

“Like I said, not a big deal.”

“I swear…” you started mumbling under your breath as you looked at his finger, “you need to thank the force, you didn’t have a pinched nerve or something. Otherwise, we would’ve had to amputate this, you do realize that!”

“As I previously stated, not a big deal” he smirked as he looked at you. He knew how much it drove you crazy, when he downgraded an injury, simply because he wanted to see how angry you got. Plus, it had the added benefit of making you stop thinking about your anxiety.

“Come with me,” you took his other hand in yours, interweaving your fingers. Shaking your head as you walked back to the med tent. Forcing him to sit down, as you tried so hard not to laugh at his best, ‘What did I do?’ face. You grabbed your supplies, pulling over a cargo crate so you could sit on it.

“Just so you know, this is going to hurt, okay?"

“You always say that, but how can it hurt when I’m looking at the most beautiful face in the galaxy.”

You smirked as he tried to distract you, “Keep it up.” You challenged him, as you looked in his eyes and held on to his finger.

“What, you think, you can make me cry?”

“I don’t think. I know.”

“Not possible, my most beautiful cyar’ika. Your eyes are … AHHH! Son of a nerf herder!”

You laughed as you straightened out his finger and braced it, wrapping the splint around his finger. “You’ll have to keep this on for three to four weeks, and no strenuous activity for two weeks after.”

“Doesn’t really work on a battlefield, cyar’ika.”

“Hence the splint.” You smiled as you leaned forward pressing a kiss to his lips, “Better?”

“Mmm, I think I need a little more” he threaded his good fingers through your hair and pressed your lips to his again.

Main Master List | Star Wars Fic Roulette

Tag list:

@liadamerondjarin @badbatch-simp24@spicymcnuggies@lady-ren @firstofficerwiggles @darkangel4121 @discofern @kavecika @monako-jinn-stories @ladykatakuri @avathebestx @theroguesully @furyhellfire66 @carodealmeida @ciramaris @sprout-fics @twinkofthedink @dindjarin-mandalorian @ulchabhangorm @littlemisspascal @tortor-mcgee @vodika-vibes @clonethirstingisreal

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whump-in-the-closet · 4 months ago

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My congrats on the follower milestone. For the whump ask thing, perhaps this dialogue?

“My dear Leader, you think you have all the choices right now but really you only have two. You or them? Choose carefully.l

thanks im continuously surprised by how many people put up with my shenanigans <2

cw: creative license was used for this prompt oops, branding, forced to choose, creepy whumper, prisoner whump, team whump, mentions of past torture, implied flogging, restraints and manhandling

Leader had stopped caring. About anything, really. So when the guards chained his hands above him, he let them.

He was past caring. He stared at the tiles with dead eyes. His heart pulsed slowly, each moment dragged out. It was funny, how quickly, everything could fall apart.

Very human fingers brought him out of his mind, grabbing his chin and forcing his face upwards.

Leader stared at Supervillain. Once– it felt long ago, but it couldn’t have been that long– he would have jerked away from the touch. Snarled a curse. But now he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. So, he took it.

Some of that sentiment must have betrayed itself in Leader's expression because Supervillain's grip tightened, nails breaking skin. “Tired, hm?" They dropped the young man's chin and ran a hand through the strands, the touch deceptively soft before tightening. Supervillain yanked Leader's head up by his hair, forcing him to look straight ahead. "Pay attention."

Two guards brought in a cauldron of burning coals, an iron ominously sticking out. Leader again felt its phantom pain, his side throbbing under its memory. He winced. He couldn’t help it. That– that had hurt. For days.

There was a brief flicker of sarcasm.

Been there, done that.

It had been a while since Supervillain had resorted to anything so violently painful.

He could take it.

He’d taken worse.

Still, Leader did not look at the iron. Or the coals. He stared straight ahead and tried to remember how breathing worked.

Supervillain smiled down at him like they knew something he didn't. Once the thought appeared, he couldn’t get rid of it. Something was different. Bile worked its way up his throat.

Something was wrong.

Leader suppressed a shudder.

Before he could take another breath, the other shoe dropped.

A fourth guard carried a bleeding figure into the room. She dropped her burden unceremoniously onto the cold tiles before the cauldron with the branding iron.

The captive's head hit the floor with a sickening thud. They didn’t move.

Supervillain glanced from the new arrival to Leader, wondering idly when he would make the connection.

Leader's eyes widened in horror.

Supervillain's smile lit up the room. "Ah, yes. Took you long enough to put two and two together." They leaned in to whisper in Leader's ear. "I found them...oh so alone. A shame, really."

To Leader, the world was spinning and it wouldn’t stop. His vision blurred.

Surely the captive, with terrible lacerations down their back, barely conscious, visibly shaking– surely, that wasn’t, of all people, Whumpee.

God.

Leader made a strangled noise in his throat– a silent scream– like someone had punched him.

Supervillain stepped back, more than pleased with themself, and beckoned to their guard. They whispered something and the guard nodded.

Leader couldn’t rip his gaze away from the shaking form that was left of Whumpee.

Oh.

Oh god.

Leader hadn’t realized he was crying until the tears blurred his vision. He had failed his team. He had failed at the one job he had.

Leader threw up then. His throat burned. Then again, so did his eyes. “Whumpee?” he whispered, the name barely loud enough to be heard.

No response.

“What did you do to them?” This too, was whispered.

No one answered that, either.

The guard grabbed Whumpee, hauling them to their feet roughly. They cried out when the guard's hands dug into the lashes on their arms.

Leader stiffened. “Let go of them.” Some of the old command worked its way into his voice.

Supervillain lit a cigarette and flipped the lid of their lighter closed with a flick of their wrist. They nodded to the guard, ignoring Leader.

Immediately, two more guards grabbed Whumpee, shoving them to their knees and bending their arms to awkward angles behind their back.

Whumpee flinched, shrinking away from their touch. "Please-- P-please don't---"

And Leader snapped.

That was Whumpee they were manhandling. One of his team. Someone who had stood by him through thick and thin. Someone who had, once, trusted him.

Leader lunged forward. “Don’t touch them! Don’t–” another lunge, the chains digging into his wrists, “Touch them!”

Supervillain exhaled a breath of smoke. “What an unusual display from you,'' Their voice was sharp, “Pull yourself together.”

Leader did not pull himself together. He continued to yank against the restraints, all semblance of aloofness gone. “Supervillain, let them go! I’ll do anything. Please!”

And he meant it.

Supervillain crouched down beside Leader to exhale another breath of smoke. This time, in Leader's face. “My dear Leader, you think you have all the choices right now but really you only have two." They lowered their voice. "You or them?"

Leader paled to the color of bone. “You– you can’t be serious."

"You remember the branding iron, don't you?" Supervillain's smile was shark-like, bright in the darkness. “You know what that’s like.” They pressed a cold hand against Leader's abdomen, their nails digging into the sensitive skin.

The brand’s phantom pain spread through his entire rib cage, lacing around his bones and coating them, again, in fire.

Leader stiffened, blood turning to ice in his veins. Fuck. His mouth went dry as he looked from Whumpee, limp in the guard's grip, to the branding iron, red-white against the coals. Again, the floor dropped out from below him, leaving him spiraling.

It took all of his strength to find his voice. "I'll take it."

Supervillain stood up. They grinned. "You know what? You've managed to fuck up my plans so many times...yes, I think I'd like to watch you fuck up for once."

Leader didn't understand. "W-what?"

Supervillain ruffled his hair, patchy and bloodstained. "You never had a choice, dear."

Leader lunged against the chains. “No!” he shouted. “No! I said I would do it--”

His wrist made a snapping sound even as he threw himself again, and again. His voice gave out, cracking into a sob. "Fuck you--"

The guards chained Whumpee to the wall, tightening them to the point until stones dug into Whumpee's raw back.

Leader cursed every foul name when Supervillain picked up the branding iron. "Don't-- Don't you dare!"

But when Whumpee screamed his name, begging him to make it stop, please, Leader went feral. He struggled frantically-- uselessly. He had never been more useless. The chains did not relent and the hand that held the brand was steady. Crimson blood traced a silky path down his arm, dripping to the tiles.

Whumpee's pleas fell on deaf ears.

There was the horrible smell of burning skin.

And a scream.

Leader would never forget that scream.

Supervillain pulled the brand away, and Whumpee slumped forward, unconscious. Supervillain undid their restraints and let them collapse to the ground, stepping around them with a flicker of disgust.

They ordered the guards to undo Leader's chains. “There’s not much damage he can do in here," they said.

And they left Leader alone with the battered captive, their still form twitching under the curling remnants of agony.

Leader dropped down beside Whumpee, knees hitting the floor with all the force of a guillotine dropping. He worked quickly, taking off his own shirt and ripping it apart– first bandaging the brand and then trying to stem the blood from the flogging. It was a messy job and he did it poorly, with only the expertise of having previously done the same work on himself.

Whumpee's eyes remained closed.

Despair crouched inside Leader and it smiled. It smiled like Supervillain. Leader cried then. Hoarse sobs that ripped his vocal chords to shreds.

Whumpee stirred. They exhaled softly– a small groan escaping their lips. They squeezed their eyes shut like they were still hoping this was some nightmare they could escape.

Leader's voice was gone. He could say nothing. Provide no comfort. No reassurance. It was with hesitant movements that he moved Whumpee's head onto his lap, shielding them with his body as much as he could.

Please tell me you’re alright.

Tell me we’ll be alright.

Whumpee's entire body shook.

Nothing was alright.

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coffeeghoulie · 7 months ago

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If it’s possible would you be able to mix 20 and 6 together with Swiss and Phantom? If not you can choose which one you want

Thanks in advance if you come up with anything

I did my best to combine these, though I feel like you had a certain scenario in mind and I tried to follow that but my brain went "oops, Swiss angst" instead. This technically follows both my Swiss and Aeon lore from Eternal Heatstroke, but you don't need to have read that for this. Hope you enjoy!

#20: on a scar and #6: on a falling tear from this prompt list

Aeon hates when Swiss goes still. The multi-ghoul is almost constantly in a state of motion, shifting his weight, tail swaying behind him, tapping his toes or drumming his fingers. Normally, the only time he stops moving is when he's asleep, and even then he doesn't quite lay still. He's only still if he's hurting, upset and lost in thought.

The door to their room creaks, and Aeon knocks on the frame before they enter. The room is dark and they can just barely see his silhouette where he sits on the edge of the bed. "'S just me," they say as their good eye adjusts to the darkness. "Missed you today."

Swiss makes a non-committal noise, a flat hum, to acknowledge they've been heard, but he doesn't move. If it weren't for the shallow rise and fall of his breathing, Aeon could be convinced he's been traded out for one of the statues in the chapel.

Aeon chews nervously at their bottom lip, hand trembling as they start to reach out. "Swiss, can you talk to me?" they ask, voice wavering.

He still doesn't move, head in his hands. Aeon bites their lip harder, carefully making their way to his side. "Sorry bug, thought I'd've pulled myself together by now."

He'd woken up like this, quiet and withdrawn, and Aeon had done their best to cheer him up before they had to rush off to their chores. But it hadn't worked.

Aeon shakes their head, sitting down next to him; close enough that they can feel his body heat against their thigh, but far enough away that they can give him an out if he wants to take it. "If I were feeling bad," they begin softly, each word careful, "Would you want to let me sit there and pull myself together?"

Swiss looks up at that, and Aeon tries to hide their wince at just how puffy his eyes are, the pretty gold of his irises wet with unshed tears. "No, I wouldn't," he says.

"Could you just talk to me?" Aeon asks. "I- I don't like not being able to help, Swiss."

Swiss laughs wetly. "I know, buggy," he says, voice still a little distant. "I know."

Aeon doesn't say anything, just stubbornly holds Swiss's gaze, waiting for one of them to speak.

It takes a few minutes, but eventually Swiss heaves a sigh, drifting just close enough that their thighs are pressed together knee to hip. Aeon leans in, still hesitant, waiting for an adverse reaction, and rests their temple on his shoulder. "Had a weird dream, bug," he says, staring at the wall. Aeon is reminded painfully of that first heart-to-heart, all those months ago. "Pit dream."

"Oh," Aeon breathes, chuffing and trying to comfort him. They know all about Pit dreams; having been plagued with them the first few months they'd been Up Top. "Alone?"

Swiss takes a deep breath, leaning over, carefully avoiding the points of their horns as he rests his head on top of theirs. "Nah, from before I left. Birth pack shit."

Aeon hums, pressing themself closer to him comfortingly.

"It's funny, missing people who hurt you," Swiss says, his words hanging heavy in the air. "Dreamt about my mother, and my sisters, and things were good. Things were really good, and I didn't know it was a dream until I woke up this morning."

His voice cracks, and Aeon looks up, eyes wide, just as a tear races down his cheek, disappearing into his stubble.

"I really miss them," he says, voice small. Aeon shifts, grabbing his waist and turning him so he can embrace their multighoul tight, fingers carding through his braids as they guide his head down. They kiss his cheek, just over that shiny teartrack, the exact spot where, before they had gotten along, Aeon had clawed. It had been healed, leaving no trace except for both of them knowing what had happened. They kiss his cheek again, the corner of his lips, before bringing his head down to the crook of their neck.

"I know," Aeon whispers, because they do know, has been held through this exact same dilemma. Swiss greedily accepts the embrace, holding them tight around their ribs as he cries against theit neck.

"Thank you, bug," Swiss whispers, once he's cried himself out. Aeon chuffs, blunt claws scratching his scalp.

"Any time," Aeon says simply. "You did the same for me."

#dot's writing #swiss ghoul #aeon ghoul #technically not but i'm gonna tag it bc of the Lore #eternal heatstroke #(also i will not shut up about them debuting that song the night before i'm gonna be there. rude lmao)#the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #kiss prompts

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teagballs · 9 months ago

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I just read your Dennis fic, and if you were going to write a part 2 would you be able to make it that Dennis doesn’t immediately tell reader he likes her? He just starts acting really weird when she’s around?

Like maybe, Dennis Charlie and Mac are insulting Dee and reader says something like “that it’s not nice” then Dennis goes, “yeah that’s seriously not nice guys.” And everyone’s just confused cause like he was saying mean stuff too.

If it’s to much trouble or if you don’t wanna write this please just ignore this 🧍🧍

"like no one else" | dennis reynolds x reader

read part one here

authors note: ur mind anon UR MIND BROOO. this prompt was amazing and i had to do it but also it took me a month cuz i was busy. OOPS. i hope i did it justice cuz i took it and ran LMAO

requests open as always!! looking to do some charlie kelly stuff, so if u have any ideas for him lmk!!

cw: fem reader, mentions of objectification of women and the D.E.N.N.I.S system ofc, lil smoochie smoo at the end but nothing nsfw, 1.4k words

Dennis stumbled out of the restaurant, abandoning his date and this old life of promiscuity behind, seemingly. He walked down the street, pulling out his phone. He entered your name into his contacts, ready to confess everything. Ready to tell you how much you mean to him. Ready to love you. But then he stopped. His finger hovered over the call button and he thought, "what am I doing?" It was the emotion of the situation that made him act with such heedlessness. He didn't even know if you felt that way about him, if you felt the same deep connection he did. For him, it was a feeling like no other. It felt like you got him in a way no one else did. With understanding and kindness too. But to you? Dennis could just be a good friend to you. And if that was the case, what was the point in risking it all? He took a deep breath, shoving his phone back in his pocket. No, he shouldn't act so incautiously.

In the following weeks, Dennis found himself falling deeper and deeper for you. Every action you took, every word you spoke. He found himself obsessing over it. He tried not to come off as creepy - although that was hard, this was Dennis. His still kept his distance as usual, but now with a growing infatuation. He believed he was portraying this neutrality to you well, but this facade was challenged today.

"Y'know what guys, I'm really excited for this date tonight," Dee began to explain as she sat at the bar with Dennis, Charlie, Mac, and you.

"Oh shut up, Dee, nobody cares about your stupid date," Mac barked. Degrading her as usual.

It was water off a duck's back for dee, "You're just jealous I have a date Mac." She rhymed off before taking another swig of her beer.

"How'd you get this one to go out with you, Dee?" Charlie began in defence of Mac, "What'd you do? Steal his dog?"

"What? God no, what the fuck are you talking about?" Dee said.

Dennis didn't involve himself in verbally bullying his sister as he usually would. Usually, he would come in with the worst, most grating jabs. Instead, he silently observed how you scrolled on your phone, occasionally taking a sip of your drink, noticing how your brows furrowed ever so slightly in frustration.

"Even if you do go on this date, Dee, the only way you'll get him to stay is if you steal his phone or something!" Mac snarled.

"Yeah, you stupid bird!" Charlie said, which resulted in loud laughter from the men.

"God, would you just leave her alone, you two? Do you have nothing better to do?" You snapped at them finally. Dennis noticed your frustration and wanting to support and comfort you, he responded;

"Yeah, guys, leave her alone. You're both so sad." Dennis said in his usual 'I'm not wrong about anything ever and you're stupid for being wrong' tone.

Silence. Everyone, including you, turns to face Dennis. Did he just defend Dee? The sister he swore he hated?

"Dennis, what did you just say?" Mac asked cautiously and filled with confusion.

"I said leave Dee alone."

Dennis didn't really care all that much about Dee. Really, all her cared about was proving to you he did. He wanted to be on your side, always. To have your approval.

"Thank you, Dennis," you agreed. Dennis's heart swelled. 'God, what's wrong with me?' he thought. He had never felt this many emotions ever. Never mind for one person.

"That was weird, right? Earlier? When Dennis, like, stood up for Dee?" Charlie asked Mac.

"Oh yeah! For sure! I have no clue why he did that. I mean, just yesterday me, you, Frank, and Dennis were ragging on her for being a failed actress." Mac replied, causing laughter between the pair at the thought of this previous discussion.

"So... what changed?" Charlie puzzled.

"Everyone was there, except.. except for her." Mac hypothesised that when you were there, Dennis avoided talking poorly of Dee.

"But why? What does she change?"

Mac shrugged, "Maybe he's trying to D.E.N.N.I.S her."

"Huh. Doesn't really seem like his usual type." Charlie said.

Dennis was definitely not trying to D.E.N.N.I.S you. He made that distinctly clear in his mind. He wasn't following the steps at all, going out of his way to avoid flirtation with you, actually, to avoid raising suspicions. And the final step, 'separate entirely,' was most certainly one he didn’t want to follow. He wanted to spend forever and ever with you. Why? He didn't understand it himself. He was Dennis Reynolds, the Golden God! How come he was acting so pathetic?

You were starting to notice his weird behaviour. You had known Dennis for years. He was never this.. clingy? Not that you minded, really. You had always thought he was attractive, sure - charismatic too - but his general objectification of woman and lack of interest in a stable and long-term relationship certainly deterred you. Still, though, you couldn't help but feel your heart shatter every time he would talk about the girl he was planning to go out with next. You had grown tougher over the years of knowing him, accepting that he would never change, and he would never see you like that. This new attention from his was definitely appreciated, but strange.

This all came to head a couple of weeks into this behaviour. You and Dennis sat in the bar together on a slow Tuesday. You had been testing him slightly. You were saying things to provoke him - small things. Things that would usually lead to a disagreement or argument or him going on a long Dennis rant. But he didn't budge. He didn’t roar obscenities or call you an idiot or react negatively at all. He would just nod and smile. And then he would agree. You couldn't take it. Was it some cruel joke? To get your hopes up or make you look stupid? You didn't get the punchline.

"Alright, Dennis, what's with you lately."

Dennis freezes. He feared you had picked up on his feelings towards you. He feared this would be the end of it all, and he had ruined it, and you would leave and he would never see you again.

"What do you mean?" Dennis replied. He was lucky he was such a good liar. He played coy well. But you didn't back down.

"You've been acting weird. You just agree with everything I say, and you're hanging around me a lot and like you keep not making fun of Dee when I'm here. You're always looking at me too. Is it some sort of joke I don't get? Are you making fun of me? That's mean."

Dennis felt emotions, oh god. He located that he felt regret and frustration and guilt and guilt and guilt. 'Mean'. He wasn't trying to be mean. She thought it was some sort of joke, but no. This was how he really felt. He really wanted to spend all his time admiring you, he wanted to agree with you on everything, that's all he could think about for the past month. And for once in his life, Dennis was at sea for words.

"I... I didn't..." Dennis attempted. But he couldn't convey his words in a safe manner. In a manner that meant if you didn't feel the same way it would be okay and you could keep being friends.

"I think I'm in love with you." Dennis sighed.

"It was after that date. With that chick. What was her name? Candy? Karen? Doesn't matter." Dennis rambled. "It was then when I realised I never want to be with anyone else, if not you. I don't think anyone had ever understood me the way you have. And I just spiralled after then? I haven't stopped thinking about you." That would be a creepy comment if it wasn't something you had always wanted to hear from him.

It was your turn to be speechless. Instead of saying anything your eyes scanned his face for any indication of falsehood. Nothing. You saw and expression on Dennis's face that you had never seen before. One that could be equated to not knowing the answer. Clueless. Maybe afraid? You open your mouth to speak again but Dennis cuts you off and speaks first. Like he's trying to drown out a negative response. Like covering your ears to block out the sound of a gunshot; the damage would still be done.

Dennis looked at you, waiting for the gunshot.

"Dennis.. I feel the same way. Of course I do, oh my God." You finally say. Your voice is small and hoarse, like you have never used it before. Quickly, before anyone can say anything else, Dennis envelops you in a kiss. A kiss that isn't filled with lust, something Dennis isn't used to. His lips lean into yours in a desperate attempt to convey his gratefulness and love and devotion to you. You grip at his sides. You understand.

#x reader #iasip x reader #its always sunny in philidelphia x reader #dennis reynolds x reader #dennis reynolds #fanfic

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i-cant-sing · 2 years ago

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Yandere Dimitri letting reader go to a hotel/her home after she requests him to let her have a few days to herself and well, Dimi can't say no to you because you really have been on your best behaviour after he had kidnapped you a year ago and forced you to marry him and shit.

He knows he can be a little overbearing, but you're seeing it all wrong! It's just his way of expressing his love for you :D

But nevertheless, you deserve a break. Besides you'll be safe with all his men-

"No guards." You tell him. "I don't want them scaring my friends away."

"Yes guards." Dimitri furrows his brows at you, before pushing your hair behind your ear. "You won't notice them. They'll be hidden-"

"How hidden can they be when theyre built like bears and have that intimidating look in their eyes?" You glared at him before sighing. Time to use that soft voice and damsel in distress eyes he falls for. "Come on, Dimi~ please. I just- I can't stand the feeling of eyes on me. Please. I promise I won't do anything to endanger myself. I'll even call you every few hours to update but please. No guards." You said, exasperation evident in your eyes.

Dimitri cupped your cheek, heart melting into a puddle when you leaned into it. You're so cute.

"Fine. But you call every hour. And if you get so much so as a paper cut, you are to tell me immediately- katyonak, stop laughing. I'm not kidding. I will burn that paper before bringing you back here."

Now while Dimitri did promise you that he won't have any guards accompany you, he didn't mean he won't have any hiding in the shadows. They're the best of the best, so there's no way you'll be able to see them at all-

"I TOLD YOU NO GUARDS, DIMITRI!" He winced at you screeching through the phone. Looking at your angry form through the cameras installed in your room, he couldn't help but still find you so attractive as your face turned red with rage.

So cute.

He cleared his throat. "I don't know what you are talking about, honey. I didn't send any guards. Oh no- do you feel like someone's watching you? Are you in danger? I'm coming to pick you-"

"DIMITRI!"

"Yes, katyonak?"

"Send.your.men.away."

Dimitri feigned innocence. "Again, sweetie. I don't know what you're talking about. There's no one there."

"Oh really? Are you sure about that?" You asked, and Dimitri could hear the threat that was about to follow. "Well, I guess it wouldn't matter if I pulled the drapes away and took off my clothes, huh?"

"Huh? Y/n, no dont do that-" Dimitri could only watch as you pulled the curtains away and began taking your clothes off. "Y/n! Dont do that!"

"Why not? No ones looking and I sure do miss walking around naked without you grabbing me with your paws. Oops, just undid my skirt and slip them off. And I'm not wearing anything underneath-"

Dimitri immeadiately grabbed his work phone. "GET YOUR ASSES AWAY FROM THAT APARTMENT! YOU BETTER NOT BE FUCKING STARING AT MY WIFE OF I SWEAR TO GOD I WILL PULL ALL OF YOUR EYES OUT AND FEED THEM TO YOU! IM GOING TO KILL ALL OF YOU-!" You smiled as you ended the call, not caring to hear the rest of his threats to those poor men.

You began getting ready for bed, finally at ease now that you didn't feel being watched. But the feeling returned about 20 minutes later, which freaked you out more because there were no windows in the room for someone to be peeping in.

So... who was watching you?

Turning to your other side, you screamed and almost punched the figure lying in your bed, but it caught your fist.

"Shhh, katyonak. Its me-" but Dimitri was cut off with a pillow hitting his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?!" You yelled at him, snatching your wrist away from his hand, but it only prompted to Dimitri pulling your whole body against himself.

"I missed you." He pouted, puckering his lips for a kiss but you smacked his lips back.

"After a day?!"

"Yeah. And then you said that you were taking your clothes off and well- I don't wanna miss a strip tease by you."

"You get enough strip teases at home, Dimitri. Go away, I don't wanna be near you for a week- you promised me that you would let me have a break for 7 days!"

"Yes. Not 7 nights. So, I'll be here to cuddle you and eat you out for 7 nights-"

"Stop being a perv, Dimitri!" You punched his back lightly, but he only snuggled closer to you. Eventually, you relaxed in his arms. He might be a jerk, but he's warm and not that you'd ever admit it, but you do sleep better when he hugs you.

"Y/n?"

"What?"

"When you said you missed walking around naked, you know you could do it at our home?"

"Dimitri, shut up."

"And i love you too, katyonak." He said, and you felt him kiss your forehead.

#yandere Dimitri #yandere ocs #yandere oc #yandere x reader

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singsweetmelodies · 1 year ago

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Hello Katie 👋🏼👋🏼 :D

For the 50 romance prompts ask meme, I'll like to request for 44: soulmate AU: timers <3

but if possible... with a twist...? (you don't have to include a twist if it's too difficult to work it in!)

The twist being, for whatever reason, their countdown timers for each of them to the time they meet their soulmates doesn't match, so they think "we're not each other's soulmates. that's cool. (no it's not)" but it turns out that they're each other soulmates anyways. or they choose to be with each other in spite of not being each other's soulmates. idk. *nervous laughter*

hiiii charlotte 🥰 first off, i am SO sorry for the incredible delay with this answer!! i saw this prompt and i absolutely LOVED IT (and the twist!! 🙏 *chef's kiss*) but unfortunately i got struck with a horrible case of writer's block/work deadlines, and just couldn't get to it at all.

until yesterday: i decided to just open my inbox and see what came to me. no thinking, just following the vibe of a prompt and writing. and uh. this happened... not only did it get ridiculously long (oops?) but it also somehow became a mini "investigate montreal" fic?? so in that vein, i'm tagging @1016week and submitting a belated entry for Day 6 "Montreal"... ❤️

i love this one. hope you love it too!! 👀⌚

Charles' soulmate timer stops when he is seven years old, and he meets the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen.

He's been vibrating with excitement all weekend - not just because it's a karting cup, but because his soulmate timer has been ticking down to this day for months now. Well, not just months, not really. It's actually been his whole life, but Charles doesn't remember all of that. He only remembers the past few months, when the little numbers had been getting smaller and smaller, until there were only ten days left and Charles gasped when he realised that the day would fall on the same day as the Bridgestone Cup.

"Of course the girl I marry is going to like racing, too," he'd told Maman and Papa, confidingly. Not a lot about soulmates made much sense to him, but this did.

His Maman had tried to smile, and Charles had hugged her tight to let her know it was going to be okay. He would find his soulmate, and then everyone would be smiling, because that's what people do when you meet your soulmate.

(Later that night, when Charles had been too excited to sleep and he'd gone to the bathroom quickly, Charles had heard his parents having an argument in their room. The door was closed, so their voices were muffled, but Charles could still make out his Maman saying "I just don't think it's a good sign, to meet your soulmate so young!" But Papa had countered, "Many people do, and they have beautiful stories. You have to trust that our Charles will meet his perfect match tomorrow." And then there had been an icky noise, like kissing, and Charles had flushed the loo quickly and ran back to his room.)

Now, with the beautiful blue eyed boy standing in front of him, Charles thinks of Papa's words again. Our Charles will meet his perfect match tomorrow.

Charles thought it would be a girl who really liked karting, but this is even better. This is a boy who wins at karting, because he's holding a trophy in both hands and grinning like he couldn't be happier.

Of course Charles' perfect match would be someone who wins at karting. It's only right, because Charles also wins at karting.

Charles clears his throat. "Hi," he says shyly, and the blue-eyed boy jumps.

"Oh! Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't see you there," he says apologetically, and then he laughs. He has a nice laugh, Charles thinks - like he knows how to have fun. "You are a bit short," the blue-eyed boy adds, and hey.

"Hey," Charles protests. "I'm tall for my age. I'm seven."

"Well, I'm nine," the blue-eyed boy says, like that's the most impressive age in the world.

It is a bit impressive, but not very, because Lorenzo is much older than that. Still, it is a little scary - Charles is only seven. What if this blue-eyed boy doesn't like him because he's only seven? Older kids can be mean like that.

No, he is your perfect match, Charles reminds himself. This blue-eyed boy won't be mean to him, because that's not how perfect matches work.

Charles takes a deep breath, then he sticks out his hand. "I'm Charles," he says.

The blue-eyed boy takes his hand, and it feels... weird. A little bit like when you get shocked by static electricity.

Charles giggles, unable to stop himself, and the blue-eyed boy smiles, as though he likes that.

"Hello, Charles. I'm Pierre," he says, squeezing Charles' hand. His eyes widen a moment later. "Oh! You've met your soulmate?!"

Charles doesn't understand what he means. "Well, yeah," he says. "It's y-"

And then he notices it.

Pierre's soulmate timer, right there on his wrist, right above where Charles is gripping his hand - it's still ticking.

Now, Charles doesn't know a lot about soulmates yet, but he knows that that's not good. Not good at all.

"I, um," Charles stammers, and then he does the one thing Maman and Papa said you should never do to your soulmate. Charles lies.

"I met so many new people today. I don't remember who it was."

Pierre's face falls. "Oh," he says, and he sounds unbearably sad for Charles. "But..." He chews his lip, shaking his head with a deep frown.

Then, mid-shake, Pierre's expression changes to one of determination. "I will help you find them," he says, with the kind of confidence Charles can only dream of when he's not on the racetrack.

He tugs on Charles' hand - which he still hasn't let go of - and Charles is helpless to do anything but follow.

They don't find Charles' soulmate anywhere, of course, and then Charles has to go win his race - but Pierre makes him promise that they will find each other at the next French karting event, and Charles will tell him all about his soulmate.

Charles promises, even though the idea makes his stomach feel all funny. I shouldn't be lying to my soulmate, he thinks, guiltily.

But Pierre's soulmate timer didn't stop ticking, and... that's not how soulmates are supposed to work.

The moment he's in the car with his father after the race, heading back home, Charles asks him about it.

Papa is quiet for a long moment, then: "Are you sure there wasn't someone behind Pierre, Charles?" he asks, in his careful, kind way. "Someone who's timer stopped at the same time as yours?"

Charles thinks about it for a moment, but even the idea of that feels - wrong, somehow. Like going into a corner and knowing you braked too hard, and you're going to flip the kart.

He shakes his head decisively. "No," he says. "It's Pierre."

He hears rather than sees his father blow out a soft sigh. Charles catches his eye in the rearview mirror, feeling confused and a little shaky inside.

When Papa sighs like that, it's never good news - it's usually something about sponsorship, which is a word Charles is already coming to dread.

It doesn't make sense how this could be about sponsorship, though. It probably isn't.

Charles waits for his father to gather his thoughts, like he needs to do sometimes to make sure he says exactly what he means. (It's something Maman keeps telling him he should try doing as well, but he's not so good at that yet.)

"You know how even the greatest racing drivers make mistakes sometimes?" Papa asks.

Charles frowns, but he nods. "Yes?"

"Sometimes the universe is like that, too. Sometimes the universe makes a mistake, and stops the timers too soon," Papa explains.

Charles frowns. He hasn't heard about that before, but he guesses it makes sense. It's true what Papa said - not even Senna was a perfect driver who never made mistakes. It makes sense that the universe is the same.

"But this doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate, okay, Charles?" Papa says before Charles can spend too much time thinking about the whole thing. His voice is firmer than Charles was expecting, and he reaches up to tilt the rearview mirror to see Charles better.

"It doesn't mean you don't have a soulmate," he repeats, like he doesn't want Charles to ever doubt that. "It just means it's going to be a little harder to find them."

Charles frowns, and he can't help but be a little annoyed. Isn't the whole point of soulmate timers to make it easier to find your perfect match?

It's just his luck that his soulmate timer doesn't work properly.

"I understand," Charles says, though, because he can tell it's important to his father.

Papa nods, but he keeps watching Charles in the rearview mirror for the rest of the drive, like he sometimes does after a race where Charles crashed the kart badly and he needs to keep making sure that Charles is fine.

Of course Charles is fine. He doesn't think this is comparable to a bad race at all! It's a little annoying, yes, but it's not that bad. It's just a bit of extra work, isn't it?

Charles shrugs his shoulders, glancing quickly down at the stopped soulmate timer at his wrist.

Whatever. Racing is more important than soulmates, anyway.

Almost twenty years later, Charles still says that to himself almost every day, even if he doesn't believe it with nearly the same careless seven-year-old confidence anymore: racing is more important than soulmates.

It is, because it has to be.

The thing is this: his father's explanation to Charles' seven-year-old self had been true - if a little oversimplified, and painted with an overt layer of kindness.

The truth Charles knows now is that there are two reasons, two categories, for people whose timers stop when the other person's keeps running.

One is, like Papa had said all those years ago, a simple case of mistaken timing - cases where the universe or fate or whatever controls it all stopped one person's timer a little too soon, or the other's a little too late.

It's harder to find each other in those cases, but it's still quite possible.

And then there's the second category. The unrequiteds. People whose timers stopped at the right time - when they met the person who would be their perfect match - except that they are not that person's perfect match in return. It only goes one way.

It's rare, but it happens sometimes. No system is perfect, after all - not even a system of soulmates.

For years and years, Charles tried to convince himself that he fell into the first category. His soulmate timer simply stopped too early, by some cosmic accident - but it's okay, Charles insists to everyone who asks and to himself as well, because what it's done is given Charles more time to focus on his racing instead. He's not constantly glancing down at his wrist and wondering when his timer is going to stop ticking - he can just get on with the racing.

He'll find his soulmate eventually, but on his own terms. There's nothing bad about that, surely.

Charles believes that. Really he does.

Except.

Except, if it's true and Charles falls into the first category - the mistaken timing category - then it would mean Pierre isn't his soulmate.

Pierre, who kept the promise he'd made to a seven-year-old who wasn't even his soulmate (because, yes, he had found Charles at the very next French karting cup, and he'd asked to meet Charles' soulmate - and when Charles had to admit that he still hadn't found them, Pierre had hugged him and told him not to give up and that he would find his soulmate someday. Pierre had held Charles' hand and explained that his parents almost didn't find each other, but they did. So it might take Charles some time, but that was okay, because it had taken Pierre's parents some time too, but now they were happier than ever. He'd been so convincing, firm but kind and absolutely sure of himself, and he'd made Charles believe it. He also made Charles smile, genuinely and truly, when he promised he'd stick by Charles' side no matter what anyone else said or whispered about his stopped soulmate timer.)

Pierre, who kept that promise about sticking with Charles, too. Pierre who never stopped being kind, and loyal, and the best friend Charles could ask for, whether he was seven or thirteen or nineteen or twenty-six.

Honestly, how was Charles supposed to not fall hopelessly in love with him?

He tried to deny it. For years and years, Charles tried to deny it - I will find my soulmate someday and it will all make sense, he'd tried to convince himself - but the thing was, what made more sense than Pierre being his soulmate?

It was roundabout the time of Pierre's first win (when Charles was standing under the podium in Monza with an aching back but a heart soaring with joy for his best friend despite the disaster of his own race) that Charles resigned himself to the truth: Pierre is his soulmate.

He has to be. Isn't a soulmate meant to be your perfect match; the person who understands you better than anyone and makes you happier than any other person in the world?

There's nobody else who could make Charles as happy as Pierre does. Nobody, nobody. There's no point in even trying to deny it anymore.

Pierre is his soulmate. But he is not Pierre's.

And that's okay. It's okay.

It has to be.

It isn't okay, not really, but that's true of a lot of things in Charles' life, and he's learned how to deal with them. He can deal with this, too.

On the whole, Charles thinks he does a pretty good job of dealing with it. He gets to be Pierre's best friend, after all - isn't that just a different kind of soulmate? True, Charles might want more, but it isn't like he has nothing. He has Pierre, and he will have Pierre for the rest of their lives.

Not in the way he wants, but - at least he will have Pierre.

The one thing he tries never to think about is Pierre's actual soulmate. Because Pierre has one, he knows, and he will meet them at some point.

Charles doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to look at some soulmate of Pierre's, and smile at her, and not be hopelessly, heartbreakingly jealous.

(He will do it, though. He will learn to smile at Pierre's soulmate - for Pierre's sake. He'll do it for Pierre.)

But that's a bridge he will cross when they get there. He doesn't have to worry about it yet (or at least, that's what Charles keeps telling himself even as the months tick by, and he knows there aren't year figures left on Pierre's soulmate timer anymore. Just months now, and then... weeks.)

Charles isn't thinking about it. He's put it out of his mind completely - which is easy enough to do, thankfully, given everything that's been happening on-track this season.

That's probably why he accepts Pierre's invitation to dinner in Montreal without thinking twice about it. (Even if he had realised, though, Charles doesn't think he would have been able to say no, either. He would give Pierre everything, if he only asked.)

So they go to dinner in Montreal, and it's perfect, and wonderful, and laughter-filled, and all in all exactly what Charles needed to distract himself from the fact that he has yet another engine penalty, and the sinking feeling that the championship is beginning to slip out of his reach.

Pierre seems to realise it, because he's in even finer form than usual - teasing Charles and tickling his ribs playfully and making him laugh at every possible opportunity.

Even on the drive back to the hotel: they stop at a red light, and Pierre steals Charles' cap, and Charles is giggling and filming it while Pierre is giggling back, and he's pretty sure neither of them are thinking about it at all, until-

Until Pierre's face changes from laughter to something almost ashen. "Charles," he says, and for all the years Charles has known him, he's never once heard Pierre's voice like that. "My soulmate timer just stopped."

For a few seconds, the words don't even register in Charles' mind.

Then they do, and Charles can feel his heart drop. "What?" he breathes.

His hands shake, and he doesn't even register the fact that the light has gone green as he glances all around them, craning his neck to see if there's anyone behind the white Ferrari, or around to the side.

Just a few minutes ago, their car had been surrounded by fans on all sides, all jostling to try and get pictures of them. But now, somehow, they're all alone in the Montreal night.

(The irony of it all is not lost on him - is this how Pierre felt all those years ago, when he was trying to look for Charles' soulmate at a karting cup, but not finding anybody it could be?)

"Are you sure it stopped just now? And not earlier?" Charles asks, willing his voice not to shake.

"Yeah," Pierre whispers. He sounds... devastated.

"But," Charles says, and then he has to take a deep breath. "But there's no-one else here, Pierrot."

"I know," Pierre says, somehow even softer.

Charles' fingers clench reflexively around the steering wheel, and he's moving in blank autopilot as he puts the car into gear and starts driving forward again.

He doesn't even realise he's shaking his head until Pierre says softly, "Charles." There's something wounded about it.

Charles stops shaking his head and slams on the brakes instead, jerking the car into something he hopes is a parking space at the side of the road.

"I don't understand," he says, far more calmly than he feels. "You can't - I can't be your soulmate."

Okay, maybe he's not so calm after all. But he doesn't think... he doesn't think anyone would be calm, in this situation.

Pierre makes a sound that could almost be a laugh, except that it sounds too strangled. "Do you know," he says, "that I have spent half my life wondering if the soulmate system got something wrong in my case? Because if you're not my soulmate, then who is? Who could possibly..."

Pierre does laugh this time, shaking his head. "You know, I asked to go out with you tonight for a reason. I knew - I knew it would happen tonight, so I needed to..." He swallows. "I needed to see you, one last time. Before I wouldn't be allowed to love you anymore."

It jolts through Charles then, what Pierre is trying to say. "Pierre," he breathes, and now it's his turn to say his best friend's name in a way he doesn't think he's ever said it before.

But Pierre's not finished yet. "I thought I could have one last night with you," he says. "One last night, before I had to say goodbye to my feelings, and try to love someone else."

My feelings. Try to love someone else.

Charles Leclerc is a lot of things, but an idiot is not one of them. He knows what Pierre is saying. He's...

Pierre loves him too. All along, Pierre has loved him too.

Only, he never had the option of thinking we're soulmates, Charles realised, and his heart twists in his chest.

Because Charles, for all that he accepted his soulbond toward Pierre was unrequited - at least he'd had the option of them being soulmates. Yes, it was in a twisted way, but at least he'd had that.

Pierre didn't. And he still fell in love with Charles.

The thought hits him like a shell-shock, and it's enough that Charles can only sit there for a moment, staring blankly, as Pierre continues talking beside him.

"I meant for tonight to just be a quick dinner together, something fun but normal for us," Pierre is saying, wringing his hands. "But I lost track of time. I always lose time when I'm talking to you, Charlito, I could talk to you forever - but the point is, I forgot to tell you I need to go back. I forgot that I was meant to meet my fucking soulmate tonight, because I was spending time with you, and - "

He takes a deep breath, and then he laughs again, leaning forward to drop his head into his hands. "I felt it happen, you know? I knew exactly when my soulmate timer stopped, because I could feel it, and it's - it was when I put that fucking cap on my head, Charles."

The cap that he's still wearing. Charles' 16 Ferrari cap.

Charles' hands shake as he reaches out to touch it, just the brim. "Your soulmate timer stopped when you put my cap on," he says, because a part of him still can't believe that this is real, that he's not living in some kind of heartbreakingly wonderful dream.

Pierre straightens up so fast that Charles is left with his fingers dangling awkwardly in mid-air. "Yes," he says, suddenly looking wild, "but this doesn't have to change anything, Charlito, I promise. I will still help you find your soulmate, and I will - I'll learn how to live with an unrequited bond, it's -"

"No!" Charles interrupts, half-throwing himself across the car to catch hold of Pierre's hands. "No, no, no, no. No more unrequited bonds, Pierrot."

Pierre starts to shake his head, but then he stops in the middle of the movement. "What do you mean," he asks, very carefully, "no more?"

And suddenly, Charles feels giddy, of all things. "I mean, your timer didn't stop when mine did. So for years, I have thought that we can't be soulmates, or at least that you couldn't be my soulmate. But now your timer stopped when you put on my cap, so -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Pierre says, squeezing Charles' hands tightly. "What do you mean, my timer didn't stop when yours did?"

"Oh," Charles says, and then he winces, the weight of the only real lie he's ever told his best friend (the only real lie he's ever told his soulmate) settling onto his shoulders with uncomfortable heaviness. "Um. Well. Do you remember when we met, and you thought I already met my soulmate?"

"No," Pierre breathes, but it's not the kind of no that says "no I don't remember." This no is more like "no way."

"Yeah," Charles says, and he can't help but look down at his own wrist, where the soulmate timer has been stopped for years and years. "My timer stopped the moment I met you, Pierrot."

"You..."

Pierre doesn't look like he knows how to finish that sentence, but Charles understands him anyway. "How was I supposed to tell you? I was seven, Pierre, and your timer didn't stop. I thought it was a mistake for years."

"But?" Pierre asks, like he can tell there was a but.

Charles beams at him. "But, I realised that there was nobody else who could be my perfect match. So I thought you were my soulmate after all, but it was unrequited."

"Never," Pierre says with a fierceness Charles doesn't expect. "Charles, never. If I knew... if I thought I had even half a chance, I would have been with you anyway."

Charles tries to laugh, but it comes out all breathless. "No you wouldn't."

"Yes, I would," Pierre argues, and his voice is heartbreakingly sincere. "I don't care. I would have chosen you."

Charles hears a punched-out noise, and it takes him a moment to realise it came from him. The next moment, he's unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing awkwardly over to sit on Pierre's lap.

It's not quite comfortable, because for all its luxury, the white Ferrari does not have a lot of leg space - but Charles doesn't think either of them give a single fuck, in this moment.

"I love you," he tells Pierre, reaching up to cup his cheek. "I've always loved you, but I never would have stood between you and your soulmate."

"Funny," Pierre says, his hands coming up to grip Charles' hips, "because that's exactly what stopped me from kissing you senseless."

"Well," Charles says, and if he grinds down just a little on Pierre's lap, he'll swear to everyone who asks that it was accidental. "It doesn't have to stop us anymore."

"Never again," Pierre agrees, tightening his grip on Charles' hips. "Never."

"So kiss me senseless, please," Charles whispers, and then he adds "soulmate," and that's what does it. Pierre surges up and kisses him, wild and desperate and more than a little clumsy, but without question the best kiss Charles has ever had. His own cap digs into his forehead a little, but Charles can't even bring himself to care about that - they owe too much to this cap now, honestly.

Maybe the universe does know what it's doing after all, Charles thinks. Maybe the universe just wanted to write a good story for them. A story that goes like this:

Charles' soulmate timer stopped when he was seven years old, and he met the boy with the bluest eyes he'd ever seen.

Almost twenty years later, Pierre's soulmate timer stopped in a white Ferrari in Montreal, and Charles finally got to kiss the boy with the bluest eyes he's ever seen, the man who is his best friend and his soulmate.

The odds of it working out this way have to be... a million to one, probably, or maybe even less.

But then again, what are the odds that two boys who met at a French karting cup and became friends with a shared dream would both make it to Formula 1?

Maybe the answer is just that Pierre and Charles have always liked beating the odds.

(50 Romance Prompts Ask Meme) <- not currently taking more prompts, sorry!

#50 romance prompts meme #piarles #piarles fic #myfic #soulmate timers au #*me writing this to try and banish my writers block* so it's just going to be a short little drabble!#you can tell i am a scuderia ferrari fan and delusional because LOOK what happened lmfao #i don't think you could call this ''short'' in any sense of the word #in fact it probably belongs on AO3 #OOPS #but i love it #i love it SO MUCH #we are so back babyyyyy #(like any good ferrari fan i fully expect to be saying ''it's so over!'' a week from now)#(but let's enjoy it while it lasts!!)#(SOULMATE PIARLES BABYYYYY)#(posted at exactly 16:26 my time too! this makes me smile <333)

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sapphire-weapon · 1 year ago

Note

eagleone prompt: During the rescue mission, Leon and Ashley take shelter from the rain and Ashley catches a glimpse of shirtless Leon. Because obviously he would have to take it off and squeeze out the excess water. 👀

Hey what if I took your cute prompt and put tension and some slight angst in it??? What if Leon is super insecure and self-conscious about the scar on his shoulder, and what if Ashley didn't realize it until too late??? oops.

I realized that the only time it rains when they're together is at the very start, before the two of them really know each other yet -- before Ashley even fully trusts him yet. So it was fun to explore that dynamic.

Enjoy.

It was with a puzzled look and her head cocked to the side that Ashley watched the merchant turn a corner on the distant path and disappear. She and Leon had been very lucky to find him waiting in a dilapidated shack after the terrifying ordeal that was their escape from the cabin, but the man's very existence baffled her in a way that she couldn't quite pin down into words.

The quiet sounds of clicking, sliding metal, and rustling fabric filled the air around her as Leon checked the condition of his weapons and took stock of his ammunition stores. Her eyes flickered over in his direction. He was focused entirely on the inventory check that he was doing, seemingly unconcerned with anything else.

"How does he keep arriving at places ahead of us, like he knows where we're going to be?" she asked.

"I try not to ask questions," he said, sounding distracted. "He's helping us. I don't want to give him a reason to stop."

Ashley shrugged and shook her head, unsatisfied with that response. It was the only one that he was going to give her, though, and she knew it. With a sigh, she turned her attention back to the open doorway to continue the sentinel duty that Leon had assigned her while he regained his bearings.

"I guess…"

With that, she let it drop. He may not have had questions, but she didn't want to argue about it. To a certain extent, Leon was right. It didn't really matter why or how the merchant did what he was doing — all that mattered was that he was doing it.

But still. Even then. Did it really not bother Leon at all…?

Ashley glanced back over in his direction just in time to watch him place his handgun on the wooden table beside him. His movements were fluid and purposeful — seemingly part of a process that Ashley couldn't quite predict the endgame of. As soon as his gun was settled, he shrugged his shoulder harness off and laid it down almost right on top of it. Then, with both hands, he reached back over his shoulders and curled his fingers in the fabric of his shirt in the spot right between his shoulder blades.

Ashley's brain only had a half-second to process what was happening before it actually happened. Her eyes widened and her breath caught in her throat before she fully understood why.

He gave her no verbal warning. In one swift motion, Leon yanked his shirt up the length of his body and over his head, allowing it to gather in the bends of his elbows and drape across his forearms. Belatedly, Ashley noticed that it hung heavy from him — soaked with water near to the point of dripping. The rain had stopped at some point that she couldn't remember, but she was surprised to see that he was so completely saturated.

Distantly, she remembered him mentioning something about a lake. What the hell had he been doing before he found her in the church?

Though, when she was honest with herself, she didn't actually care much.

Her attention was grabbed immediately by the contours of his body and the way that his spine carved a long groove down the center of his back, curving down along the muscles that lined either side. Her gaze followed that line all the way down to his belt and then all the way back up again. From there, it was easy to travel the road along his neck, then around his shoulder, and down his arm to the wrist of his still-gloved hand. He had a visible vein that hugged the bulging muscle of his bicep, and it was the perfect little guide for her eyes to follow.

She'd thought Leon was cute from the first second she laid eyes on him — but this was certainly, somehow, the first time she'd noticed just how hot he was, too.

Like, actually hot. Distractingly hot. "I-want-to-dig-my-fingernails-into-his-back-while-he-breathes-heavy-against-my-neck" hot.

It was on her way back up along that same path she'd traveled down his body that she finally noticed it — a dark discoloration on the front of his left shoulder that only seemed to become more noticeably grotesque the longer she looked at it. There was a very obvious center point to it — almost like a hollow circle that darkened at the edges and then spilled out an extra inch or two further across his skin. At a distance, she might have thought it was a birthmark or maybe even a botched tattoo — but, close as she was, it was easy to identify the scar tissue at that properly-colored heart of it.

A gunshot wound, maybe?

Weird. It was clearly old — just something that hadn't healed properly, or maybe had gone too long before getting cleaned out or treated. She'd never seen anything quite like it before, though.

But it was none of her business, and it did nothing to dissuade her from wanting to put her hands on him — if anything, it made her want to touch him even more. She found herself wanting to trace her fingertips along the dark edges of that circle and follow that not-quite-purple splash of skin up to the top of his shoulder, almost like fingerpainting, just to see what it felt like. Just to see how he'd react.

He rolled his shirt up with both hands and wrung a surprising amount of water out of it. It smacked against the ground with more of a series of thuds than a splash, but Ashley barely even heard it. She was mesmerized by the way that his muscles shifted visibly beneath his skin with every little movement he made. She couldn't help but wonder just how long those giant arms or strong back of his could support the entirety of her weight — or, maybe not all of it, maybe just most of it as he held her against a wall and —

He looked in her direction. Panic hit the back of her eyes. He'd caught her staring.

Ashley jumped and pulled her attention away from him, staring pointedly back at the doorway.

"Sorry," she stammered. "I didn't mean to… I wasn't—"

"It's alright," he cut her off, saving her from herself. There was a strangeness to his tone that she couldn't quite place. He shook his shirt out with one thunderous snap and glanced at her only briefly. "Everyone stares the first time they see it."

Intellectually, she knew that he was referring to the scar on his shoulder. Emotionally, she couldn't help but feel like a voyeur who'd just gotten discovered in the bushes outside his window. Some part of her refused to believe that he honestly thought that some old scar tissue was what had caught and held her attention. He had to know, right? He had to know that she'd been in the process of grossly objectifying him — it had to have been all over her face.

Right?

She wasn't about to squander the opportunity for an out that he offered, though. She chewed apprehensively on her bottom lip and slowly turned her head to face him again. He was in the process of pushing his arms back through the sleeves of his shirt, and Ashley silently began mourning the soon-to-be loss of his bare back.

"Does it hurt?" she asked.

Leon hesitated — but only for a second. Then, he shook his head only one time before offering her a sad smile that showed more in his eyes than on his lips.

"All the time."

Without another word, he pulled his shirt back up over his head and adjusted it down the length of his body. It was all Ashley could do to watch him with slightly parted lips left open and empty with words unspoken. His answer to her question slowly slid down the inside of her breastbone, leaving a trail of she-didn't-know-what in its wake. Sympathy, pity, sorrow, heartache — something cold and heavy, but something that she couldn't identify.

The open vulnerability of his answer was what had struck so deep. Leon was difficult to read at the best of times, so to hear him give a sincere and emotional response like that was downright shocking. He seemed nice enough, but he was a man of few words — stoic at best and downright joyless at worst. Ashley hadn't really known what to make of him.

Now, she was even less sure.

Numbness followed. She mutely watched as Leon pulled his harness back on around his shoulders and collected his gun from the table. When he finally looked back at her, she had no idea what her face was doing expressively. It must have been doing something, though, because he gave her a puzzled look that slowly morphed into mild concern.

"You alright?" he asked.

"Are you?" she returned.

Her response left her mouth so immediately that she was shocked to hear herself say it. His reaction was physical in nature, as though she'd just startled him awake from a too-realistic dream. He half-jumped and blinked his way back into awareness, leaning back ever-so-slightly in order to better fully absorb her question. As he recovered, his eyes cleared and his face hardened. The muscle at his temple flexed as he clenched his jaw and forced a strained, close-lipped smile.

Ashley's heart rate kicked up. She'd somehow forgotten that the man who'd been butchering his way through an entire village of people was dangerous, but the look on his face suddenly reminded her. Clearly, she'd just seen something that she wasn't meant to have seen.

And it wasn't his goddamn scar.

"Oh, I'm just fine," he said venomously. "Not dead yet, anyway."

With that, he turned and walked right past her. His footfalls were heavy on the half-rotted wood floor, and they were louder than they ought to have been — at least, that's how it seemed. He stopped in the doorway just long enough to glance over his shoulder at her, and Ashley released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.

"Let's keep moving," he said.

He didn't wait for her to respond. Leon headed back out into the night, wordlessly trusting that Ashley would follow.

#resident evil 4 #leon kennedy #ashley graham #eagleone #i know i said i was gonna do headcanons at work #but on break my brain didn't want to let this one go #so here we are #writing tag #my writing

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fakesimp · 2 years ago

Text

1k Followers Event Prompts !

!! Closed !!

No like is this how you do it. I am genuinely scared if I'm doing this wrong lmao..

➶◜◝➴

Rules for Requests !

I will write for NijiEn and Shxtou !

I write for Boys only ! Apologies for those who wants to request for Girls (⁠╯⁠︵⁠╰⁠,⁠)

Maximum 2 Characters

You can request 2 prompts each ! 2 for Fluff/Crack/Hurt/Comfort ;; 2 for Nsfw ! So in total it would be 4 max

I will write for Character x Reader ! Poly are also fine !

I will not write for Character x Character

I probably will write for angst, though, I'm not really that confident if it is going to be that, sad.. fuu..

I will not write for Gores or anything related to it

I can write for either in Fic or Hcs form ! You can specify them in your requests !

For nsfw, minors please DNI (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

I will write full nsfw or just slight nsfw like usual, you can add it in your req if you want the full one !

Available Requests : 10/10

A/n !

Due to me taking 10 request, please do be patient waiting for yours ! I will try my best to do your requests and finish them as soon as possible ! Thank you for requesting and thank you for understanding ! (⁠人⁠*⁠´⁠∀⁠｀⁠)⁠｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+

Fluff / Crack / Hurt / Comfort Prompts !

"Your hand please?"

Cooking together with him

Painting his nails

Stealing his accessories or anything that he usually wear

Doing his make up

Braiding his / your hair ( Choose either ! Unless you want it to be in a hcs form I'll do both )

"I definitely didn't make this mess"

Them welcoming you back from a long trip

Giving him back hugs

"Come here, there's something on your cheek"

Going on a cafe date

Love on first sight

Studying together

"Huh? Me? Jealous? You're just imagining it"

"Why's your face so red?"

Teasing him out of nowhere

"Do you even know what you're doing right now"

"Shhh, it's okay, I'm right here"

"As long as you're happy with him"

"Where are you..? Oh right, you're not here anymore.."

Falling for you would be the last time I fall in Love

Please don't go, stay with me

"I promised I won't let you go, but I did, will you give me one more chance to hold you again?"

Crying in your / his arms ( Choose Either ! Unless you want it to be in a hcs form I'll do both )

First time meeting you

Nsfw Prompts !

Bite or Lick ? Or ...Both ?

"One more" "A-again-??!"

It went from a kiss to a whole make out session

"Come on you can do better than that"

Tying him up

Playing with his chest

Temperature play

"Let out your voice, I want to hear it"

Giving him a hand job

"You'll be good for me won't you?"

"Who's my good boy?" ( Dom Reader only ! )

"Lick it all up"

Giving him a choker

"Please let me cum, please-"

"S-Stop rising the level u-up-! We're in p-public.. please"

Making him wear a maid outfit

Touching his sensitive part of his body

Overstimulation

Edging

Apologies for the less prompts for Nsfw, I am out of ideas (⁠ ⁠≧⁠Д⁠≦⁠) !! I don't even know if I'm doing this right oof.. anywhoozies... If i am then oop..

Again ! Thank you for 1k Followers ! Never thought I'm gonna reach this goal (⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) sankyu..

Also, hehe, The Sorcerer or The Demon last part, don't worry, I'll definitely upload them after this event and the requests have been done fufu~

#nijisanji en x reader #nijisanji en #nijisanji x reader #nijisanji #luxiem x reader #luxiem #noctyx x reader #noctyx #illuna x reader #illuna #xsoleil x reader #xsoleil #➴ fakesimp writing for you #fakesimp writing #1k followers event !

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djarintreble · 2 years ago

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the last in line || e. munson (part eight)

series master list

eddie munson tag list

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader

a/n: hi friends! its been so long!! if you've seen my blog, I've been so busy with school. I'm in my last year of college and its been hectic... I plan for this series to be a good 15-20 part series so thank you for being patient with me as I balance writing with school!! thank you for all the love. Even if I haven't been active, I see all the comments and love and reblogs. thank you, I love you so much !! summary: instead of going to the game's after party, you decide to ask Eddie to take you home. he decides to show you his favorite diner on the way and you both end the night closer than expected.

tags: some mature language, discussion of drugs, so much fluff, greasy burgers and milkshake(s), dnd explained by someone who's never played, Eddie the dramatic, the end of this part is what we all have been waiting for, I forgot I was writing a slow burn oops, this is a long one so get a snack and buckle up,

word count: 6.6k, yeah I didn't know where to stop. here's my gift in return of you all having to wait so long for me to actually write. ilyyyy

The halls of Hawkins High felt eerie at night. You walked alone through the main hallway as the building seemed to shift tones. The stories of Hawkins being haunted danced in your mind as you peered down the next hallway. Nothing but a myth yet here you were curious to the secrets the walls held.

You didn’t know where you were going but you followed the sounds of laughter and occasional yelling down toward the end of hall. As you ventured closer, your nerves seemed to take over. You wondered if you were making a mistake by observing the famous hellfire club; If you messed up everything by leaving the jocks and creating social suicide earlier today. Something told you, however, no matter what happened today, you’d find yourself detaching from that group of basketball players. At least with this option, you weren’t alone. Besides, the leader of the so-called cult caught your eye and you couldn’t help but allow yourself to be drawn to him.

The theater room came into view and you instinctively straightened out your skirt and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear before walking into whatever was waiting for you.

Right before you stepped in, the entire table jumped up in disbelief, screaming over something that was thrown onto the table. You stayed behind the door in case you were interrupting something.

“IT WAS SO CLOSE!”

“COME ON”

“WHY DID YOU THINK THAT WOULD WORK”

The screaming unraveled into a mix of grumbles and muttered words underneath Eddie’s narration.

“Well gentlemen, we all learned a valuable lesson this fine evening; don’t let Gareth make the final roll.”

“Fuck off” Gareth muttered as he gathered his dice and figure off the table.

“Looks like you will have to wait until next week to see just how bad Gareth’s decision was to the mission. Now get outta here I got shit to do before I can leave.” He said the last part somewhat joking but still prompting them to pack up.

It seemed that the night was over for them as well. You missed it. A part of you was upset as you were really looking forward to watching. It made sense though, some of the boys had rides that were at the basketball game so they’d have to finish.

You finally opened the door to reveal the party. At the sound of the old creaking door, the boys turned around.

“Hey we’re cleaning up don’t loc- Oh! Y/N! Hey! Uh- welcome to the hellfire club. Hate to say we’re just finishing up now.” The freshman, Dustin, spoke up.

There were six boys lined up on the sides of the table with Eddie at the end, sitting on a made up throne. When you finally locked eyes with him, the look he was giving you was hard to read. It was almost a smirk with a hint of intrigue. He was leaning back in the chair with one foot propped up and his arms held onto the armrest of the chair as he stared at you. You haven’t seen him this confident or relaxed before.

“I’m sorry I missed, I thought I’d at least be able to see the end. The game went on longer than I thought.” you said as you gained the confidence to walk further into the room.

“It’s alright, princess.” A few days ago, you’d roll your eyes at his mocking nickname but it was growing on you. “How was the game?” He spoke over the collection of noises made by the boys packing up as if they weren’t there. It was just you and him.

“Besides getting pushed down at the end of the halftime dance, it went well. We won.” you shrugged.

“You got pushed?” Dustin asked with a tone of concern. Gareth held back a laugh and the other boys let out mumbles of concerns and annoyance toward the jocks.

“I’ll get used to it. I did it to myself when I decided to join your table at lunch.”

“Still don’t understand why you did that.” Eddie said quietly. You wrapped around the table over next to where Eddie was sitting. He leaned back more into the chair and you couldn’t help but admit to yourself that he looked quite nice with this view. You shook the thought from your mind and put your hands on your hips.

“They were talking shit. That’s not my thing. I’d rather hang out with people that don’t make a joke out of me.” You trailed off at the end but Eddie caught on to what you were saying. He sat back up from the throne and looked at you with a face of concern.

The boys began to trail out, reading the room. They whispered among themselves bets between the two of you and what Eddie meant earlier by things to do; thinking, knowing it involved you. He wouldn’t admit it, you couldn’t see it, but they saw just how smitten he was over you.

“Did they say something about you? Is that really why you left?” He asked quietly. You shrugged.

“Something about you only wanting me around for your virgin sacrifices.” You rolled your eyes. You knew it wasn’t the case, in fact, in reality, it was them that only wanted you around because you were new. But as you’ve told yourself, and they would soon know, new doesn’t equal naive.

“They got some goddamn nerves.” He muttered as he got up. He started folding up his screen along with the books and binders that created a barricade on the table. It was the first time you got a good look at the table. A fictional map was laid out across the table along with collections of dice and figurines. Drawings that presumably were drawn by Eddie himself scattered around. “I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“So this is Dungeon and Dragons…” You began, changing the subject. You dragged your finger across the map and lingered over a particular drawing. It was of a creature, you couldn’t name, but it wore a rugged robe and was missing an arm. It had shriveled skin that almost made it look skeleton-like. Some sort of red magic or flames surrounded him in the drawing. “Did you draw this?”

You looked back up toward Eddie who stopped packing up to observe your reactions to the table. He was looking for any sign of judgment or you being weirded out at one of his passions. Instead, you gave him a look of awe and curiosity. He put his weight onto one side and crossed his arms across his chest. His confidence returned once he settled for your reaction.

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

“I didn’t know you could draw. This is amazing. I don’t even know what it is but I’m just impressed it was made by you.” You smiled at the metalhead as you picked it up and gave it to him to pack.

He wasn’t used to someone acknowledging his drawings. Let alone complimenting them. Sure his uncle always said he was an artist, his fridge covered in doodles created by a younger Eddie, but hearing it from someone else was different. Even the club treated his art as accessories to the campaign and was too involved in the story to process the hours it took for Eddie to draw and shape such props. He never took it to heart, he liked that it was a more private hobby. He was trying to justify why he felt this warm feeling inside. It was because of his art, not the person complimenting it. But that was a lie. One he was all too well learning to master.

He didn’t even know how to admit such a thing; The fact that he loved hearing how you spoke lighter and faster when you praised his art work or recognized a song or artist he loved. The fact that he was definitely falling for you and he doesn’t know how else to express it than to just ignore it. He wasn’t prepared for this, no more than a test in Mrs. O'Donnell's next week. At least that one came with a study guide.

“I dabble.” He remarked before taking the drawing from your hand. “This is Vecna. He’s the main villain of this campaign. He was killed by the hands of Kas early on in the story. See, what they don’t know is that he will return next week and they have to try and defeat him once again.” He had to stop himself from explaining in heavy details of why and how. He would refrain until he’s had time to sit and teach you the basics of the game.

“And you write these stories?” You asked, impressed with how much time and dedication this took from Eddie.

“Yeah, well they have overall lore and storylines you can follow but really the story unfolds as we go. That’s what most of the fun comes from.” He smiled.

“And if I played, I could be a princess?”

“We can make that happen.” Eddie smiled. It made his heart swell knowing you were intrigued by it.

“So hey… there’s this after party happening at Andy’s.” You began as you helped pick up some of the figures on the table. Looking up, you saw Eddie give you a trivial face. “I realized I’m not one for parties and my supposed ride is going. So if you’re not doing anything, I was wondering if you could give me a ride home? I'm starving. We could grab some food as well.”

The boy’s face softened. You were choosing him over them yet again. He laughed quietly and shook his head. You caught on and giggled softly.

“What?”

“I just- you’re something else, L/N. You really are.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, giving him the last of the figurines as he placed it in his bag. Eddie stared at the bag with a smile before looking back up at you.

“You could be anywhere tonight. Hawkins just made it to the championship and they’re all out celebrating but you’d rather hang out with me. I just don’t get it.”

You frowned at the idea Eddie didn’t think he was worth your time. He was in fact someone you considered a friend. If there was one thing for certain in your short time here in Hawkins, you had two real friends. Chrissy and Eddie. An odd bunch for sure but everyone else were merely acquaintances when they weren’t pushing you during half-time shows or mocking you at lunch. Why would you want to spend your time getting drunk with a bunch of fake jocks when you could hang out with someone who actually got you. Someone who sparked your love to explore music. Someone who saw you as more than a new face. Of course he was worth your time.

“So is that a no?” you teased. His eyes shot wide and he was quick to recover.

“N-no! I mean yes, no- ugh” he cleared his throat. Never did he ever feel this awkward at this table. This table made him feel like a king. You were his kryptonite. “No, I would love your company. I didn’t have anything going on myself. I am starving. Do burgers sound nice? I can introduce you to the best diner in town.” He looked back down picking up the last of his items in order to avoid eye contact and the possible rejection.

“That actually sounds perfect.” You smiled. He couldn’t hide the smile that came along with your acceptance.

It was a fair drive to the diner that consisted of a few songs from Black Sabbath’s master of reality album. One he told you was a short but classic set of songs to add to your music library. You caught yourself nodding to ‘Into the Void’, which proved his point.

The diner resided on the outer part of town. You noticed Eddie tended to be attracted to these smaller hole-in-the-wall places and it made sense. You could see the appeal. It was those kinds of places where popular locals avoided and the same ones found their way back again. People like Eddie who liked to know everyone by name and they knew him by his. Where they knew his order and it was already being made the second they heard the bell ring at his arrival. It was a comfort, it was familiar. This was what this diner resembled.

The letter “n” was not lit, making the sign spell out “CRYSTAL’S DIER.” Two cars occupied the lot in addition to Eddie’s van. It made sense as it was right after 8.

After the reoccurring excuse of the broken door handle, Eddie opened the passenger side for you and followed as you entered the place. The smell of grease and salt filled your senses. Soft music played from the old jukebox in the corner. The floor had the black and white checkered tiles that clashed with the purple and blue run down wallpaper but it still somehow made sense for a place like this. Whoever Crystal was clearly didn’t have the skills for interior design, seeing they made their way into the food business. Only time would tell if that was a good choice.

“Well if isn’t it Mr. Munson?” a shorter lady stepped out of the kitchen in a light yellow dress. Her white hair tucked into a hair net and paper hat. Makeup painted her face but didn’t hide the years of smiles that made her wiser. She placed the coffee pot that was in her hand down on the counter before wrapping around and making her way toward Eddie. “I was about to go find your old uncle to check up on you. How are you doing, son?”

“I’m doing good, Ms. Crys.” his voice at an unfamiliar pitch. She pulled him into a hug to which he gladly accepted. The height difference made Eddie bend his knees and lean over which put him at an awkward angle. She kept him in this hug for a few seconds before realizing your existence.

“And you finally brought a friend. I was getting tired of serving for a party of one.” She playfully elbowed him. He dramatically rubbed his arm with a frown.

“I have brought people here before, Crys. Stop making me sound like a loser.”

“Hello, doll. I’m Crystal but everyone calls me Crys. You must be new in town, I never forget a face.”

"I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you. I just moved in last week.”

“Well it’s a pleasure, sweetie.” Crys led you to a table in the corner that had a wrap-around booth. Eddie and you made your way into the booth and scooted in so that you both sat with only the corner of the table separating you two. It gave you both an angle to see out into the diner and look back up at Crys, who waited for you two to get situated. “I’m taking it that Eds here is treating you right? If not, I’ll take care of it.”

A nervous laugh came from your left as you caught a glimpse of Eddie fidgeting with the napkins Crys just dropped onto your table. It was unusual seeing Eddie this flustered. It contrasted with the cocky persona he inhabited when you first met. It made you wonder if things would have been different if this was the side of him you saw from the beginning. When thinking about it, you in fact did that very first time. The moment when you pointed out the Dio shirt that he hand sewed into his denim jacket. For a split second, you caught him off guard. That was when you first saw this side of Eddie. It was when he was trying to avoid you that the other persona took place. It was his attempt to push you away. Clearly it didn’t work.

“Yes, ma’am.” You laughed as you gently nudged Eddie and gave him a smile before looking back at Crys. “He’s been showing me all the good places in Hawkins, including your diner.” The smile she gave you in return was different than before. This one revealed more wrinkles around her eyes. That comment must have meant a lot to her.

“Well in that case… dinner is on the house tonight. Order whatever you would like, sweetie.” She tapped the table with her notepad before walking away.

With that you grabbed a menu, suddenly aware of how hungry you were. You looked back up toward Eddie who just stared at you.

“What?” you whispered, smiling in curiosity toward the metalhead. His grin widened and he simply shook his head. He picked out a menu himself and shrugged before hiding his face in it.

“Nothing.” he said, nonchalantly.

“Eddie”

“hm?”

“What?” Reiterating as you laughed and kicked at his feet from under the table. At that, he placed the menu back on the table to look at you. You saw the hesitation in his eyes before he rolled them.

“The cheeseburger is a must. Ask for the diner special and she puts this sauce on it that just-“ he sighs in satisfaction. Words unable to describe the effect of this special sauce.

“What is it?” you asked, laughing at his actions.

“I don’t know, Ms. Crys says it’s a secret. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was simply cocaine, it’s addictive.” He picked back up the menu and lightly tapped it against the table as he looked back around the diner.

The joke reminded you of the favor Chrissy asked you earlier that week. You have yet to tell Eddie that she was hoping to deal with him. The main reason being was that you hoped she changed her mind, It just didn’t seem to be a good combination with what she described she was dealing with. Secondly, you forgot about it every time you’ve interacted with Eddie this week. Your mind was… usually occupied whenever you’ve talked to the boy in front of you. Part of you even forgot about his side job; it only being mentioned by the Hawkins basketball team.

“Now it’s my turn to ask what’s going on in that head of yours.” He got your attention.

“And I’m guessing I’m not allowed to change the topic like you just did?” You teased.

“Nope. Spill it, L/N.” He leaned back into the cushioned benched, raising his arms up to rest his head in his hands. His relaxed and confident side reappeared.

“That just got me thinking of something I’ve been meaning to ask you.” Your laugh became more nervous, not knowing how bringing this up would go.

“What? Cocaine fries?” He almost snorted at his own joke. You rolled your eyes, barely trying to hide your grin.

“Well the first part. You know- your business.” You didn’t mean for it to come out as awkward as it did but here you were. The last part was said quieter than you meant to.

“Where I sell drugs, yes. That business.” He nodded.

“Yes. That business. I was wondering about a deal- n-not for me. no. uh I’m not into all that. It’s uh- for a friend.” You didn’t know why you couldn’t get it out any less awkwardly. It wasn’t everyday you pitched a drug deal for a friend.

“Y/N, if you wanted to smoke, all you had to do was ask. Free of charge with me.” Eddie laughed, clearly amused. He shifted his weight to where he leaned more forward, placing his arms on the table and tilting his head toward you. “But if it’s for a friend… How can I be of service?”

“It’s for Chrissy.”

“Chrissy?”

“Yes, Chrissy. She uh-“ Before you could finish, you were interrupted by the now familiar sound of a notepad hitting the table and the lingering presence of an expensive perfume.

“So did I give y’all enough time to figure out what you want? Dave is getting bored back there in the back and threatened to leave if I didn’t give him another order to work on.” She rolled her eyes with a hint of amusement.

“Wouldn’t want to leave Dave getting paid for nothing do we?” Eddie spoke up, giving his menu one more tap against the table before sliding it toward Crys. “I’ll have my usual. Thanks, Mrs. C.”

“You got it. Chocolate milkshake and double burger-” She trailed off as she wrote down his order. “And you, sweetheart?” She asked.

“I’ll take a chocolate milkshake and the cheeseburger-“ You looked over at Eddie with a smile. “And can I get the diner special?”

“Why yes, glad to know Eds here is endorsing it still.”

“He said the sauce is a secret.” You smiled, intrigued for her response.

“Nah, I’ll tell you. As long as he’s not around.”

“What?” Eddie gasped, offended by her answer. “I’ve known you my whole life. You’ve known her for 15 minutes and she gets the secret diner special recipe?” He imitated getting stabbed in the chest and dramatically fell over in the booth. “I have been betrayed.” He croaked out from under the table.

Mrs. Crys rolled her eyes, clearly used to his dramatic flair he tended to have sometimes. “Oh get up, Eddie. I’ll let her know so she can make it for you long after I’m gone and you can bother her about the recipe. I’m simply passing the ropes here.” She joked. You laughed along but also questioned her exact meaning behind that.

“This kind of betrayal strikes right to the core.”

“Save it for you games, I’m gonna go get started on that food for ya.” Crys laughed as she walked away, yelling at Dave in the back to start on the patties.

“I will never forgive you for that.” Eddie shuffled back up in his seat. He cleared his throat and looked back at you seriously. “So Chrissy Cunningham.” He started.

“Oh yeah, she uh… she’s been getting these really bad headaches apparently. She said she’s also been having these intense dreams and not able to sleep? The medicine she’s been using hasn’t been doing the trick so she was wondering what you’d have that would help her calm her nerves and maybe help with that.”

“Mhmm…” Eddie sounded concerned.

“I told her I didn’t like that idea. She wanted me to ask so that Jason wasn’t made aware and I don’t know if drugs is the answer. I want her to go to a doctor but she also said that’s a no. Something about her mom…But she’s my friend and I wanted to see what you thought.”

Eddie also could see the problem with this. He understood distracting from the pain. He usually would never turn down a client. But there was something about the situation that didn’t sit right with him. He also didn’t like the idea of this particular client’s boyfriend finding out.

“I’ll meet with her and give her a small dosage of the good stuff.”

“The good stuff?”

“The good stuff.” He smirked. “It’s harmless and she’ll probably not even like it. But just to make her feel better. If she comes back for more, then we’ll figure something out for her.”

“Are you sure?”

“Business is business.”

“Promise me you won’t give her anything crazy, Eddie.” Part of him wanted to be offended by that comment but he had to remember that you were already stressed to bring this up and you were simply being concerned for a friend. He knew you knew he wouldn’t. You just needed reassurance you weren’t doing the wrong thing by bringing this up.

“I might like the money from it, but I still have boundaries when it comes to my clients. I know a cry for help when I see one, trust me. I wouldn’t give her anything she couldn’t handle.”

“Okay good.” Relief poured over you. It didn’t help that you were not familiar with the whole drug dealing business. The number of church camps and awareness you’ve seen throughout your life always scared you away from it. You almost felt embarrassed with how you were acting toward the whole situation.

“Just figure out a good time she’d want to meet and I’ll make sure it’s in a secret place so Jason won’t find out.” He said, his tone more serious than before. He didn’t like the idea at all. Chrissy turning to this was way more than just headaches and weird dreams. He would know. There’s a reason he turned to them himself.

“I’ll let her know. Thank you, I’m sorry I am so awkward when it comes to that.”

“Drugs?” He said in a mocking tone. “Crack? Marijua-“

“Stop making fun of me.” You laughed. “I get it, I'm naive or whatever they say.”

Eddie just gave you a lazy smile, thinking about the fact that he’d never imagine discussing a drug deal with a particular pastor's daughter. Sure he dealt with church kids all the time. They were usually his best clients, as reputable as Jason. Something about sitting here with you as you tried to keep hush about it made him almost fall over in this stupid feeling he’s been getting familiar with. He was a bad influence for the pastor's daughter… but he couldn’t help that it looked so damn good on you.

If anything, you were a bad influence on him. He’d quit dealing on the spot if you asked him to. He’d walk into Sunday service and even thank God for you. He’d do that and more if it meant getting to keep you close. This feeling, this type of chemistry was one he was not used to. Better yet, one he didn’t believe he deserved. It being handed to him so freely was a shock of its own. You haven’t walked away yet. Maybe you wouldn’t have to.

“No, you’re different.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not at all. You’re just the kind person I- Hawkins needs.” He said.

“Oh good.” You said softly.

Silence fell over the both of you. The jukebox was playing a song with occasional cuts in the track that seemed to harmonize along with the sounds of the kitchen and muffled dialogue that you assumed was between Dave and Crys. There was only one other person in the diner and it was an older man who sat up against the bar sipping on the same cup of coffee since you both entered. It was a good kind of quiet. The kind that you wish you had access to more often. The kind that made it easier to think.

All you could think about right now was the boy in front of you and how much you wish you could ask him what he meant by you being the kind of person HE needed before he changed it to all of Hawkins. You wished but you knew it would encourage a conversation you weren’t ready to have. You had to remind yourself you’ve only known him for about 2 weeks. Not 2 years. And you also had to be okay with the thought that maybe… maybe he didn’t feel the same.

The silence was broken by Crys who sat her tray on the table. Greasy burgers and fries were still steaming from the kitchen. It distracted you from the fact that she only put down one chocolate shake.

“Yeah sorry about that, kids. There was only enough stuff to make one shake. But I brought two straws. I figured you wouldn’t mind.” She winked over at Eddie who returned the gesture with a blank face.

“Oh that’s alright. I can take a water and let Eddie have it.” You said, trying to ease the tension you felt from Eddie’s side of the booth.

“Nonsense, Y/N. I’ll just get a Dr. Pepper.” Eddie added.

“How about this… Share the shake and I’ll get you your other drinks. You are making this too complicated.” Crys rolled her eyes, annoyed that her little trick was spoiled.

As she left, you both looked at each other with wide eyes. A silent gesture seeing who would take the shake first.

“Well if you won’t, I will.” Eddie shrugged and grabbed the shake, putting his straw in it and taking a big sip. “Ahhh” he sighed and sat it back on the table.

“Well now I feel like I’m missing out, hand it over.” You replied, taking it and using your own straw to try it.

It really was a good chocolate milkshake.

“I see what you mean.” You took another sip. “This is one hell of a shake.”

Eddie laughed and began to eat his meal. You picked up your own burger and tried it. The sauce was the perfect touch along with the melted cheese and greasy patty. A diner masterpiece.

The meal was enjoyed in silence. Besides the back and forth sips on the milkshake and a loud slurping noise coming from Eddie, you both went back to being in your heads.

It took everything for Eddie not to think of this as a date. Especially when Crys pulled the milkshake trick. He’s seen her do it before. He would be lying if he said he didn’t think of it being a date before they even walked into the diner. He was careful with what he said and made sure to pay attention to see if any part of you was uncomfortable with the situation. All he could read on your face was contentment. Maybe it wouldn’t have to be said. Maybe you thought this was a date too. He would settle with a silent agreement.

“Well, it’s getting kinda late. I better take you back to your place before your dad burns me at the stake.” He laughed, digging into his pocket for his wallet.

“Wow I didn’t even think about the time. Yeah we should get going.” You also went to dig through your purse for some cash before Eddie jumped up and walked to the counter and gave Crys some money.

“I thought dinner was on the house. Now I feel bad. Here take thi-“ You went to give him some cash before he pushed your hand back and shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it. That was her tip anyways. Equals to the meals. Shall we?” He motioned to the door. You scooted out of the booth and walked toward the door.

“That was really nice of you.”

“The least I can do for all she’s done for me and my old man.” He smiled back toward you. “Bye Mrs. Crys, don’t work too hard.”

“Bye Eddie, tell your uncle to come see me sometime. I’ve missed his pretty face.” She stopped to greet a new customer who sat at the booth before acknowledging you. “Bye hon, it was nice to meet you. Welcome to Hawkins.”

“Thank you. It was nice meeting you!” You replied. You both began to leave and before the door shut, you heard Crys yell out “one chocolate milkshake coming up!”

Eddie opened the so-called broken door for you to hop into his van so you could head back toward your place. You had a gut feeling you might be in trouble for how late it was but also there was a part of you that didn’t care. This night was worth it.

The sound of the ignition starting pulled you out of your thoughts and you gave Eddie a big smile as he pushed the cassette back into the player. It began where it left off, a new song beginning. A gentle guitar solo crescendoed in which contrasted with the song that previously played.

The van pulled out of the parking lot and began down the dark road that was surrounded with trees. You remained quiet as Eddie began to sing along with the song.

“My name, it means nothing, my fortune is less. My future is shrouded in dark wilderness. Sunshine is far away. Clouds linger on. Everything I possessed, now they are gone. They are gone.” He sang under his breath, tapping the steering wheel like a drum.

This was probably your favorite version of Eddie. It made you happy when he would get lost in his music. It was a part of him, he didn’t even have to think about the lyrics or the pattern of the drums. He just knew it. All those hours he spent alone with headphones over his ears and his head stuck up next to a cassette player were shown on his face when a familiar song began. His whole body would relax. You couldn’t help but smile watching him as he drove down the empty road, singing mindlessly. You felt honored to know he felt comfortable revealing that side of himself to you.

“Like the view?” He finally spoke up, acknowledging your stare. The smile he gave you as he peered over was cocky.

“Yeah, actually.” You responded.

“Oh.” Is all he responded with a hint of surprise in his voice. He was thrown off by your honest answer.

“I like seeing this side of you.”

“What do you mean?” He asked, his voice softer than before. Eddie usually didn’t care what others thought of him, or so he told himself. Your opinion, however, was slowly becoming one of the most important ones.

“I’ve only seen you like this with your club and Mrs. Crys or Randy from the music store. Then around other people you try to act all- well the way you were around me when we first met.” He laughed.

“And that was?” He entertained.

“You were all ‘Hi I’m Edward Munson. Yeah I’m a freak so what- Social conformity, Devil this- that,I don’t care, Hey princess, don’t talk to me. I’m a pain in the ass.’” You said in a deeper voice, attempting to sound like the metalhead.

“Wow I really am a pain in the ass.” Eddie shook his head. “And I sound stupid.” He laughed along with your antics.

“Shut up, that’s what you were trying to be but that’s not the real you.”

“I was a pain in the ass though.” He restated. The van pulled into your driveway and he turned off the headlights as you both continued talking. You took off your seatbelt and shifted over to face Eddie more, him mirroring you.

“You were.”

“And now?” He leaned his head against the back of the chair as he looked at you with sincerity. The movement allowed the one light outside to shine right on his face, making his brown eyes shimmer slightly and his curls highlight the frame of his silhouette.

“Not anymore.” You smiled at him. “You are one of the only good things I look forward to since moving here.”

That statement alone was enough to make Eddie’s chest burst. He wasn’t used to being a person someone actually looked forward to seeing. Sure he had his little sheep who followed him around. They were growing on him; little Dustin began to feel like a little brother lately.

Sure his band depended on him. But man, it was different hearing you say that he was considered a good thing to look forward to.

“Oh- T-Thank you.” He started fidgeting with his rings.

“Seriously, Eddie. You have a big heart. You’ve managed to find all these people in Hawkins that feel misunderstood and make them feel seen. Those kids in your club look up to you. Crys, Randy, they care for you. That’s the real you.”

“Making me sound like some kind of hero.” He laughed, still looking down at his rings.

Without thinking you reached over and grabbed his hands to make him look up at you. The heat of his hands contrasted with your cold fingers. His wide eyes followed yours.

“You better believe me here, Munson. You’re a good guy. Take the compliment.” You leaned back over to your seat, letting go of his hand. The lack of heat suddenly becoming unbearable.

“Thank you, Y/N. It’s good to hear it sometimes.” He said, honesty laced in his voice.

“And what about me?” You smirked. Eddie smiled and looked away before looking back at you. “Am I who you thought I was? What’s your verdict?” The attempt to lighten the situation succeeded. His dramatic sigh reassured you.

“You are not who I thought you’d be. I saw they knew you and I wasn’t going to even give it a chance. But you’re not like them. I tried to stay away from you but you kept coming back.” He rolled his eyes, jokingly. “I was an idiot for trying to push you away in the beginning.”

“I thought you hated me.” You laughed.

"I didn't hate you.”

"No?"

"I was intimidated by you...never would I have thought a nice, pretty girl like you would want to be around me.”

oh.

Eddie waited for an answer. Surely he read the van properly. You both were being honest and well- he had to be honest with himself.

“I-“ a light flickered out of the corner of your eye. You glanced over to see a silhouette moving from your kitchen and the light flickered again revealing your father looking out. He was signaling you to come in. That gut feeling of this not ending well for you came back. “I gotta go.”

“Right… Here let me get the door.” Eddie jumped out, walking around the front of the car hoping his face didn’t reveal how he really felt. Discouraged by your response and the wonderful timing of your father. Nevertheless, he had to stick to the broken door story and now he was being watched. Your dad needed to know that Eddie was a good guy. So he’d show just that.

When Eddie shut the door, you used that time to groan and cover your face as you wanted to yell at how that scene played out. You know how Eddie might take that.

The door opened and Eddie gave you a small smile before walking next to you toward your door.

“You don’t have to walk me to my door, you know.”

“I know.” He shrugged.

“Thank you, Eddie.”

“For what?” He raised an eyebrow.

“For being you. I like being around you… more than you think.” You smiled at him before reaching up and giving him a small kiss on the cheek. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

The boy was frozen. He was replaying your small gesture over and over in his head as he stood on your porch. You kissed his cheek and he did nothing but stand there with his eyes wide as you opened your door and stepped inside. He should have pulled you in for a real kiss, maybe kiss your forehead. He could still feel the impression your lips made onto his cheek as he walked back to his car. A sense of comfort and relief laid over him as he drove back to his shared trailer with his uncle in complete silence.

You, however, had little time to replay what you did because the second you walked in, your dad cleared his throat from the kitchen.

“Hey dad.”

“Carver’s boy called the house about an hour ago concerned because you were supposed to go to some celebration dinner but didn’t show up with your ride. I expected you’d find a way home. I didn’t realize you’d come back very late in that boy’s van.”

“Dad, I promise I was in better hands-“

“I told you I don’t like you hanging around him.”

“I know but-“

“I know we just moved here and you’re having a difficult time with being new, but you are an influence on this church and I don’t want this falling back on you.”

There it was.

This sort of expectancy to act as if everyone was watching your every move. Well... they were. But why did that mean you'd have to stay away from the people that are socially unacceptable. It broke your heart that even your father, a man who use to claim everyone was capable of good, would sit here and tell you to stay away from someone. The people he praised were the exact people that needed to be exposed for their double life.

This was your biggest struggle when it came to your dad's profession and your own beliefs. Why was it that the good looking people with bad intentions always get the spotlight when there was people like Eddie who had no real intention of hurting or destroying anything? Why was he seen as someone to avoid, unworthy of change, judged? Why were people like Jason praised and seen as someone worthy of everyone's time and respect?

What was worse was the constant expectation that you, too, were to align with this. No, you didn't want to. Why did you have to walk away from a good friend in order to please those who had a better eye to the public? Wasn't that the exact opposite of what you were raised to do?

You wanted to walk away. Go up to your room and ignore this discussion. Bite your tongue and save it for another day. But you couldn't. Not when you just kissed the boy, who is claimed to be a bad influence, on the cheek. You chose him. He was your friend. Maybe you would be the first to actually stand up for him when others chose to do what was "right" and walk away.

"You don't want it to fall back on me? Or fall back on you, dad? Maybe my influence isn't such a bad thing. He's a good guy. I wish you would trust your daughter on this... not some pastor's son who is definitely not at a celebratory dinner right now." You left him with that as you turned away to walk up to your room.

You chose Eddie the second you left the lunch table that day, you weren't going to walk away from him now.

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