#it makes me miserable having to imagine them being miserable

[twoflowers]

Best Behavior- Sanji x Reader (Explicit)

Here's my contribution to InfixOP's One Piece x Reader fic exchange. This is for @mere-mortifer, who I hope enjoys it and forgives me for the late posting date. I don't know why or how this is so long, but I loved writing it.

Prompt: Forced proximity when sleeping due to extremely cold weather outside leads to cuddling, which leads to kissing, which leads to sex. Bonus points if Reader has to almost beg Sanji to share a sleeping bag/bed/whatever with them because Sanji doesn't want to make them uncomfortable while trying to sleep, meanwhile he's the one freezing in the open air. Even more bonus points if they have to be very careful and quiet while having sex cause someone else might hear them.

Description: Sanji has been more reserved in his affection recently. Being stranded in the cold and forced to share a sleeping bag may be just the remedy.

Rating: Explicit

Tags: sub!Sanji, virgin!Sanji, gentle femdom, first time, getting together, forced proximity, biting, (attempted) oral sex, worship, praise kink. Reader is described as a cis woman but there are no other references to her appearance.

Read on AO3.

Word Count: 9k+

Best Behavior

It takes a fifteen mile hike up a steep, cliffside trail in weather so cold your fingertips turn blue to realize that your sleeping bag and tent have been replaced with several large beef shanks.

It’s a miserable night. You’re separated from most of your crew, and all of your crewmates with a functioning sense of direction. Rain has soaked through your shoes to make your socks squelch with every step, and your coat is doing little to stave off the chill. Both of your coats, actually, because Sanji has long abandoned his suit jacket to drape it over your shoulders. You let him do it solely because he looked more miserable with it than without it; you look at him now, swearing and shivering pitifully as he attempts to start a campfire in the clearing that the four of you have decided to camp out in, and feel a pang of guilt. He looks back up at you with a smile so beatific you almost forget that you were about to commit murder. 

“Luffy,” you breathe. You keep breathing, loudly: you’ve figured out breathing exercises for just about every form of Luffy-induced rage or anxiety imaginable. “Luffy, what is this?”

Luffy is standing on the opposite side of the clearing with Zoro, who is searching for sake amidst the myriad bags he insisted on carrying up the mountain as training. Luffy leans towards you with wide-eyed curiosity, which quickly turns into wide-eyed joy as he sees your bag.

“Oh, meat! That’s where you went!” He beams, throwing an arm to hook onto a tree behind you. It twangs cartoonishly like an overstretched rubber band; Luffy hurdles towards you at top speed, whooping like a maniac - and lands directly into Sanji’s outstretched foot.

“You idiot!” Sanji scolds Luffy, now laying on the floor and nursing a large bump on his head. “How dare you take her sleeping bag? She’s freezing! Apologize!”

“Sorry…” Luffy whines petulantly, still rubbing his head. 

“Now give her yours!”

“Eh? I didn’t bring mine.”

“You didn’t-” Sanji stops, rubs his temple, and turns to you. “It’s okay, angel, I’m sure the marimo can spare his. If you can stand the body odor, that is.”

“Huh?” Zoro is in the middle of getting situated, sword carriers arranged carefully against a rock, wet haramaki loosened. “Why don’t you give her yours, shit cook?”

“I need to avoid frostbite or you’ll die within a day when Luffy cleans out the food stores.”

Zoro scoffs. “Nobody wants to touch your sleeping bag anyways. Who knows what you’ve done to the thing.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sanji and Zoro dissolve into a blur of motion lines. Over the kicks and grunts and shouted insults you hear the smacking of lips and look down to see Luffy eating meat out of your bag with the desperation of a starving street dog. You glare at him for good measure; he doesn’t seem to notice.

You take the opportunity to sneak to Zoro’s area to continue the search for that sake. It’s freezing and you need something to warm you, if there isn’t fire or dry clothing or a sleeping bag. The first bag you check is suspiciously heavy, and you open it to find… rocks. 

The second bag is also full of rocks, and so is the third. You take a very deep breath before stomping over to the fight to clock both Zoro and Sanji over the skull, a skill you’ve been developing for months under Nami’s careful tutelage. (It really is difficult to estimate where their heads are at any given point, but it’s really more of a gut feeling than anything.)

“Stop fighting!” You shout down at them. Sanji immediately apologizes, looking very honored to have been hit by you. You pretend that it doesn't send a shockwave of pure want through you and continue on, scowling down at Zoro.

“What the fuck did you do with the supplies?” 

“Huh?” Zoro glares up at you. “The cook brought them.”

“Mine! I brought mine!” Sanji pokes a finger right into Zoro’s forehead. “And my precious angel’s, but someone decided to replace her things with food!” 

He wheels around to Luffy, who’s shoved an entire bone into his mouth to suck on, cheeks stretched absurdly to accommodate it. Blankly, he spits out the bone, and it shoots over to hit Sanji square in the nose, and Sanj springs up to slug him again.

You love the boys, really, but moments like these are why you rely on Nami and Robin to keep you semi-sane. Every man on the crew is somehow a complete idiot, even Sanji. Woefully, this is a huge part of the appeal. He’s a complete fool and you adore him for it, drooling, nosebleeds, and all. 

The fighting winds down just as your shivering reaches an intolerable level. Your teeth are bashing against each other and nicking your lips. Distantly, you’re counting down the minutes until you inevitably get hypothermia, and the boys don’t look like they’re faring much better. Luffy sees you shivering and you watch in real-time as his neurons fire just enough for him to realize that it is, in fact, incredibly cold outside. He immediately shrieks and wraps his arms around himself like a weird, rubbery coat.

Besides the rocks and food, Sanji is the only person who managed to bring actual supplies. Between the four of you, there are two tents, one sleeping bag, and four packaged emergency blankets.

“Okay,” you huff. “Okay.” Your arm spasms with cold as you point to the tents. “How do we want to do this?”

“Of course, angel, you get the sleeping bag,” Sanji assures you, smacking Luffy as he tries to protest. 

“Men to one tent, woman to the other?” You suggest, knowing that Sanji will take issue with it.

“But angel, there could be wolves!” Sanji looks profoundly worried. His bangs are windswept back, and you get the full effect of his pout with both eyes visible. “You need someone to stand guard. I can-”

“Sanji, it’s practically sub-zero. You need to be inside a tent, and all of us need to get our clothes off as soon as possible.”

Sanji gulps, wind-chapped cheeks somehow flushing even redder. His gaze traces down your body and turns dazed: you aren’t sure how, given that you’re drenched and wearing a shapeless jacket. Ugh, what a sweetheart. The abstract concept of you taking your clothes off in a separate tent is getting him all hot and bothered.

It’s a relief. 

Recently, Sanji has been downright distant, by his standards. Still doting, of course; still appearing every few hours with a special drink and snack for you. Still overusing pet names and offering to be your knight and making sure you and the other women get the best of the best of everything.

But the opportunistic touches to the lower back have vanished. His eyes barely linger when you wear a low-cut shirt. You haven’t even seen him have a nosebleed in a while. 

You wonder idly how your love-life got to the point of you eagerly awaiting being perved on, but one glance at Sanji vanishes those thoughts. You know exactly how you got here: you thrilled at meeting this tall man with his lovely long legs and thin waist and broad shoulders, his large, careful hands, tapered chin and well-kempt facial hair and slight youthful roundness clinging stubbornly to his cheeks despite his manly man act. You were completely gone after learning that he essentially devoted his life to the pleasure of women, called you miss and blushed when pushed around and followed pretty girls blindly like a lost puppy, and all without an ounce of irony or malicious intent. The Straw Hats- all of them- are so sincere that it still blindsides you sometimes.

And after two years apart, seeing him mature… Muscles and jawline more defined, a bit more hardened, a bit more world-weary but still as kind and giving and genuine and lovely as ever… His reaction to seeing you essentially topless after that time apart was very charmingly him, even if it snowballed into recurrent bleeding episodes necessitating a well-stocked blood bank aboard the ship. 

As bad as it sounds, you miss the attention. You like encouraging that side of Sanji.

You look around you at the pathetic campsite and measly supplies and think that maybe fate has blessed you with a good hand indeed.

“Luffy and I could share a tent, but then you and Zoro would be together…” You say it like you haven’t already done the mental math and gotten the exact result you want, like you aren’t already internally whooping in victory. “I don’t want to break up any more fights.”

Sanji glances rapidly between you and the other men.

“And now that you mention it, I’m not sure if anybody should be left alone tonight. We should pair off for safety. Like you said, there might be wolves.” You look up, pursing your lips in thought. “Zoro and I could share.”

Sanji sputters immediately, stepping forward to cast a protective arm between you and Zoro. “No! No way! There’s no telling what that animal might try! My angel, n-n- undressed in front of that brute-!”

The two men are forehead to forehead at this point, and you quickly grab Sanji by the collar of his rain-soaked shirt and haul him backwards. He goes willingly, but his glare remains fixed on Zoro… until you stroke the back of his neck with your thumb and he flushes and slumps towards you, deactivated.

“Or you and I could share, Sanji.” 

He looks at you like you’ve just said something incomprehensible. His eyes slowly drift to your neck, then snap quickly back up. You flutter your lashes and Sanji goes scarlet. 

“Would that work? I’ll just get changed in the sleeping bag.”

“Abababa-” Sanji babbles. 

“And you can protect me?”

“Hahh-” Sanji makes a punched out sound and looks upwards as if imploring some deity for help. He clears his throat and pushes his bangs back. When he looks back at you the flush comes back full-force, and he has to look to the ground before he nods, twice.

“Perfect.” You clap your hands together. “Please tell me one of you knows how to set up a tent. Not Luffy.” 

Despite the biting cold, despite the numb fingers that can barely function to hold the pegs that secure the tents to the ground, you are a very happy camper. Sanji is moving with a manic efficiency that you hope is a good sign. He alternates between staring at you unblinkingly and pretending not to look at you while shooting desperate, furtive glances. This is your favorite Sanji, the one who’s wrecked by the mere idea of a woman being anything resembling familiar with him. Roping him into close quarters may be the perfect solution to the recent distance.

Or, you think with a frown, he might be put off by the whole situation. If asked two years ago you would have declared Sanji incredibly easy to read; recently, you’re not so sure what he’s thinking.

Still, your mind is flooded with all sorts of delicious images: Sanji furtively touching himself in the tent next to you, blanket stuffed into his mouth to stifle his whines, or Sanji accidentally finding a pair of your used underwear in his sleeping area and being unable to resist temptation. There’s an idea you go back to again and again, inspired by one time months ago that Sanji visibly licked his lips when you mentioned needing to wash your intimates.

The rain slows just as the tents are set up. Sanji finally manages to start a small fire in the clearing, and everyone strips their top layers to dry on logs overnight. You distribute the emergency blankets and watch Luffy’s eyes dazzle in wonder at their metallic sheen. You can’t help but smile softly at him: of course near death by hypothermia is just another big adventure to him.

You warm up to the best of your ability by the fire before taking Sanji’s sleeping bag and scrambling into the tent before the cold catches you. Your shorts, underwear, and tank top are soaked completely through and you’re so cold and exhausted that you don’t have an hour to spare to get dry by the measly fire. 

You can’t help but think about Zoro’s earlier words as you unzip the sleeping bag and line it with a blanket. Who knows what he’s done to the thing… Your shivering reaches new heights and you quickly strip to your underwear, crawl into the bag, and zip it up, wiggling to get comfortable and listening to the blanket make awkward crinkling noises around you.

You lie in the dark waiting for Sanji, listening to Luffy loudly get ready for bedtime and recount the story of today to Zoro, who grunts in return. They’re on the opposite side of the fire from your tent, but Luffy’s laughter rings throughout the clearing. If there are wolves, you think, they’ll probably be scared away.

You sit up after about fifteen minutes. You can see Sanji’s shadow through the tent, sitting in front of the fire with his knees drawn to his chest. You wriggle to the entrance and unzip it slightly, peeking out at Sanji as he huddles miserably in his wet undershirt and boxers. 

“Sanji, come here. You need to get out of those clothes and into a blanket.”

Sanji turns to you, nodding absently. “Yeah. Yeah, okay.” He turns back to the fire and takes a few deep, steady breaths, as though preparing himself. Paired with the sparks flying up into the clear, starry night he almost looks like he’s performing some kind of spell. His hands clench into fists and unclench, and then he stands up to enter the tent. 

You scoot backwards to give him room, but the action inadvertently makes the sleeping bag slip down. Sanji lets out an eep and covers his eyes with a hand, the other thrown out in front of him like a shield.

“Angel, your modesty!” He squeaks, waving his hand around helplessly. “I’m sorry!”

Is Sanji passing up an opportunity to swoon over a naked woman? 

“Sanji, it’s no big deal. It was an accident.” You get back into a lying position while Sanji stutters and tries to find his blanket with a hand shielding his eyes. “Modesty doesn’t count for much when the alternative is hypothermia.” 

“Ah- but, but-” He trips over your pile of clothes and peeks between his fingers to see your bra dangling from his foot, then squeaks and shakes it free. “But it’s-” He looks up and sees that you’re fully covered, and takes his hand from his face. 

“But it’s improper.” 

His lip is quivering in misery. His wet hair seems to sag even further down his forehead. You notice that at some point he’s put an unlit cigarette between his teeth, and he gnaws at it viciously as his eyes nearly well with tears.

You’re not sure whether to laugh or cry along with him. “Sanji, you’ve seen me naked before. In the shower? When the lock broke? Remember?”

He nods, the spitting image of a puppy watching his bag of treats sink to the bottom of the ocean.

“And you got a nosebleed and told me I had the most beautiful body in the world? Ringing any bells?”

Sanji’s lip quivers harder, and he shakes his head, then nods. “But I-” 

“So what’s with the sudden change of heart, huh?” Your eyes soften as you look at Sanji… Soggy, pitiful, desperate Sanji. “You’re shaking. Get your shirt off.” 

Sanji gulps. You admire his Adam’s apple and his sculpted neck. How is it fair that a man this beautiful is also the sweetest man in the world?

You roll over to give Sanji some privacy, and hear him peeling his wet shirt from his body. You let yourself lick your lips because you’re feeling quite self-indulgent now that you’re out of the freezing cold and marginally warmed by the fire, blanket, and sleeping bag. When you hear Sanji unfolding his blanket, you clear your throat.

“Can I turn back over?”

“Ah. Yes. You’re okay now, angel.” 

You roll back over and grin at the sight of Sanji’s head peeking out from above his foil blanket. His shirt is folded and placed at a respectful distance from your things; presumably, he’s still wearing wet boxers. 

“Warm?”

“Warmer,” he smiles, and leans towards you to appraise your sleeping situation. “And you? Are you warm enough? If not, I can give you my blanket and sit back by the fire.” 

“I’ve already taken your sleeping bag, Sanji. I don’t want you to actually die here.”

Sanji’s smile melts across his face, soft and sweet and wobbly. “Ah, my angel cares about me!” 

“Of course I do.” You smile up at him from your bundle, and he tucks a hand under his chin to better gaze at you adoringly.

“You look so snug, all tucked in…” 

For some reason, this makes you shiver with desire. You’ll never get enough of being fussed over and cooed at like a baby duckling. Sanji has seen you stumble into the kitchen, hungover and in last night’s makeup and has reacted by pressing a hand over his heart like he was ready to melt through the floor. He makes you feel unconditionally adored; more than that, he seems to adore you even more under what you think are the worst possible conditions.

A companionable silence ensues. You can hear the sporadic popping of the fire outside and the whistling of Luffy snoring. You drift off a bit; Sanji puts up a valiant fight, but when you wake up to hear the rain starting up again, he’s asleep. 

You see the fire die out and huddle your blanket closer to you. Sanji shivers. 

“Sanji?” 

His blanket crumples as he stirs. “Hm?” 

“You’re cold, huh?”

You can faintly see him shake his head. “No, angel. Don’t worry about me.” 

“I do worry about you. I worry about you a lot.”

There’s a beat. “...Thank you. I’m honored.”

You glance over and blink a few times, eyes adjusting to the darkness and allowing you to make out Sanji’s trembling outline.

“Sanji, come over here.”

He audibly swallows, but obeys, scooting close and leaning down enough that the fog of his breath is visible. 

“Come in here with me.”

His breath disappears for a few long seconds. You can see enough of his face to get the impression that his eyes are darting rapidly from you to the sleeping bag and back again, and you reach your hand out into the night air and slip it under his jaw. He makes a sound like a deflating tire.

“I- you mean-” He reflexively reaches up to his lips; not finding a cigarette, he places his hand briefly over yours and then flinches away like it burns. “Come in where?” 

“Sanji, you’re cold. There’s space, really.” You scoot backwards to demonstrate, grabbing his hand and slipping it into the sleeping bag. “See?” 

“But the-th-” he chokes, feeling around in the empty space beside you. “Not much space, there’s- really, there’s hardly any space, and-” He shivers, head to toe.

“Please,” you whisper. “I’m cold, too… Really cold, and I need you to help.”

Sanji gasps, hand reaching out past the empty space to connect with your shoulder. “Is that true, angel? Is that true? You need me?” 

“Yes, I really do. Could you-?” You reach out to gently tug his arm. He doesn’t resist at all- you don’t think Sanji could ever resist being manhandled by a woman- but he’s stiff and emanates hesitance as he’s pulled towards you.

“Angel, I’m not decent.” 

For a moment you think he’s being self-deprecating, but you quickly remember that neither of you are wearing anything but underwear. The thought makes your stomach clench. All that skin against skin, the possibility of feeling the warmth of Sanji’s body tucked right against yours... 

“Neither am I.”

Sanji draws in a harsh breath. He brings a hand to his nose to check for blood. It comes back clear, and he exhales shakily and gently places his hand on your head. His fingers twitch as they settle into your hair.

“And I’m so happy that you trust me enough to allow me near you when you’re vulnerable,” he says with great effort. “But I don’t want to do anything to make you uncomfortable. I don’t want to… react in a way that makes you uncomfortable.”

Heat blossoms between your legs, radiates to your belly and chest until you’re almost dizzy with it. But once the initial burn subsides, his comment gives you pause.

It’s not that Sanji hasn’t cared about your comfort in the past: of course he has. He cares very much about you being well-fed and relaxed. He’s offered to clean your room, do all of your laundry, carry you any time you seem even slightly tired. But he’s also, on multiple occasions, coyly lifted his blanket to invite you to snuggle on the couch, eyelashes fluttering. He’s assured you his bunk is always available to share after you have a night of poor sleep. He’s offered massages and manicures and haircuts and baths together, always with earnest eagerness to please and enough puppy dog desperation to make it toothless. 

It does sting a bit that he isn’t immediately jumping into bed with you.

Sanji’s hand is still in your hair and you can feel that it is shaking from a combination of cold and nerves. You wish you could see his face. You’re sure whatever expression of profound shame he’s making is very charming. 

You decide you need to do something. If Sanji is going to dial down his advances, you need to dial yours up until you reach equilibrium. 

“You mean you think you’ll get aroused?” 

His hand jerks away from your head; he jolts back with a squeak. “Angel-! That’s- That’s such a crude word-!”

“But it’s true, isn’t it? You’re worried about how you’ll react if we sleep together?”

Sanji is breathing like he’s overheating. He nods shamefully. “I’m sorry! I know it’s wrong of me. I just… I can’t control it sometimes. Especially around beautiful ladies. And you’re not…” He gulps. “You’re not wearing anything right now, and… We would be touching.”

“We would be,” you agree. “But skin-to-skin contact is very effective for warming up. Sanji, if you’d rather I send you to cuddle with Zoro, I will. I want you to warm up. Just because you could spend the night shivering in a blanket in only wet underwear doesn’t mean you should have to. We’re nakama. I want you to be cozy. With me.” 

“Cozy…?” He repeats vaguely. He shifts closer, close enough that his knee knocks into yours. “With you?”

“With me.” 

You sit up, making sure to pull the sleeping bag with you so your breasts are covered, and unzip the side. “Now get in here. I’m freezing my ass off and I know you are, too. We can lay back to back or something.”

“Princess…” He says helplessly, but his legs are already slipping into the sleeping bag. 

You make room for him. He keeps the blanket wrapped around him and you’re feeling frustrated, sexually and emotionally; you’re cold and nervous and desperate for reassurance that he also wants to touch you. 

“Can you put the blanket on top of me, too?” You reach out to Sanji, who’s halfway into the sleeping back, and tug lightly on the little cocoon he’s made around himself. “That way we can both have two blankets and be skin-to-skin. For minimal heat loss.”

You smile when Sanji practically rips the blanket off of himself and tuck it over you, then slips quickly next to you to get out of the cold. 

You’re side to side now. Sanji’s entire bare arm is against your bare arm. You hope you aren’t breathing too loudly, but even if you are, Sanji is surely drowning you out: he’s practically huffing. 

“Can you zip us up?” You turn your back to Sanji. He seems to be having a hard enough time already, and jumping straight into cuddling while practically naked might spook him.

“Yeah… yeah.” He turns so that he’s on his side, a slight gap between your backs, and zips up the sleeping bag. 

It feels so final, like he’s closing the boundary between the outside world and the place where the two of you are lying, and you can feel the heat between your legs ramping up in intensity. The space between your back and his feels charged with potential. 

You lie in silence for a few moments. Sanji asks if you’re comfortable and you tell him that you are. A few times you attempt to subtly press your back into Sanji’s, but he’s apparently migrated as far to the other side of the sleeping bag as possible. 

“Sanji?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course,” he says, but sounds unsure. You worry your thumb over your lips.

“You’ve been distant lately. Touching me less, being less… Well, eager, I guess. Normally, I would have expected you to be very excited about a girl inviting you to share a sleeping bag. Is everything okay between us?”

“Yes! Yes, of course everything’s okay! I promise, if there was any problem, I’d fix it right away!” Sanji shifts to the best of his ability so he’s lying on his back, speaking right into your ear. “I’m trying to be better…”

“Better?”

“I know I can be a bit much. Sometimes I get so excited about being around you ladies that I can forget my manners, and it’s… Unbecoming of a gentleman. And you deserve a gentleman. You deserve nothing less than the best.”

You can’t help but laugh. You’d been so worried that Sanji was pulling away, or that his recent behavior was how Sanji acted around a girl he wasn’t romantically interested in. You realize that you’re so used to Sanji’s love sonnets and borderline ogling and gentle touches to the small of your back that normal behavior, or anything closer to normal behavior from him, puts you on high alert. Anything less than over the top feels like a rejection.

“Sanji, that’s it? Really? You’re not-” You turn so that you’re on your side, hands crossed over your breasts to avoid getting too close too fast. “You’re not… I don’t know, disinterested?”

“Disinterested?” Sanji sounds horrified. “My princess, I could never be! Have I been making you feel neglected? Please tell me I haven’t!”

“I mean, a little bit? I know you’ve probably gotten negative feedback, but with me… I like it when you’re yourself. You don’t need to tone it down.”

Sanji seems to realize that the front of your body is pressed flush against his side. He gasps an exhale but doesn’t pull away, and you let yourself even closer, gently hooking a foot between his legs. 

“You can’t mean that,” Sanji mutters. “Can you?”

“You’re not too much for me,” you say, and it’s such an understatement. You adore Sanji, completely, but aren’t sure how to verbalize it (I love you, I want to keep you, I need to hold your hand constantly and play with your hair, I want you to beg for a taste of me and then slobber all over my pussy-?). “I like the attention.”

“You really do?” He leans closer. You can feel his breath on your lips. “I can give you more attention. So much more, if you’ll let me. Please. I want to make you happy.” 

“You do make me happy. But right now, what would make me even happier is if you let me cuddle you.” 

“Hah- are you-? Cuddle? As in-?”

“I want you to be warm.”

“Angel, I’m very warm right now. That’s the problem.” 

And you can’t control yourself, because really, the way he sounds tortured is so delicious, and his breath is so hot and he smells like cigarettes and rain and his arm is pressing right against you, elbow to your ribs. You lean forward and kiss him.

Sanji is stock-still. You don’t relent. You slip a hand up to cup his jaw, move your lips against his: they’re so soft you can’t help but lick at them, and Sanji lets out a noise halfway between a moan and a cry of distress. 

You pull away and feel Sanji’s breathing start up again after a few seconds.

“Am I dreaming?” He mutters. “Do I have hypothermia? The cold is getting to me and I’m dreaming, right?” 

His hand cups your shoulder like he’s trying to convince himself that you’re solid, actually there. His fingers move to stroke wondrously down your arm. Those big, careful hands that you’ve admired for years are every bit as gentle as you’ve always imagined.

“Do you dream about me often?” You aim for teasing but end up choking the words out, because his hand is getting dangerously low.

“Yes. God, yes…” Sanji rolls to face you, and your chest presses right against his, and you feel him jolt like he was electrocuted. “God, oh my god, angel, is this okay? Is this-” He cups your cheek and strokes your face from eyebrow to chin and leans forward so he’s breathing right into your mouth. 

“It’s okay.” You lean into his touch to encourage him. 

“It’s okay,” he repeats, sounding awed. “Can I-? May I-?” 

He leans forward and tentatively brushes his lips against yours. He gasps into your lips, pulling slightly away before placing a series of small smooches around your mouth. It’s so achingly sweet and shy and lovely and you respond by stroking your foot up his calf. You can feel his leg hair and are so inexplicably endeared by him that you chase down his lips again and kiss him long and slow. 

Sanji seems inexperienced but is a quick study: he lets you lead. Your hand settles comfortably on his face and you take the opportunity to stroke his goatee. You refuse to squander this opportunity to explore by touch as much of him as possible. He makes a pleased little humming sound and it makes your heart jump in your chest. You need to get more noises out of him, need him falling apart in your arms in this sleeping bag on this mountain right now.

You lick at the seam of his lips and he opens his mouth immediately, a bit too widely. You’re dizzy with affection and then with pure lust as he presses his tongue against yours. It’s wet and messy and he groans into your mouth and you love it. 

You’re struck with the need to find out how Sanji will behave if given free rein. You bury your hand into his hair and allow your lips to go pliable against his. He licks into your mouth exploratorily, humming in pure pleasure at every new angle he tries kissing you from. You scratch his scalp and he redoubles his efforts, rolling over to slot a knee between your legs so he’s hovering slightly above you. His hard cock presses against your hip and you nearly black out. 

You pull away to catch your breath, and Sanji collapses to bury his face into your neck. 

“Was that good? Is this okay? I want to- I’ve been trying to- to be good for you.” He huffs the words into your neck, his warm breath on your skin. His facial hair is scratching you and you adore it, need so much more of it, are secretly hoping it leaves marks.

“It’s good. Sanji, it’s so good, you’re being so good for me.” You stroke his hair and he responds with a bitten off moan and a kiss to the crook of your neck. “Such a good boy for me.” 

Sanji’s hips jerk unbidden, and he lets out a small, embarrassed whimper as his cock grinds into you. Before you can praise that noise and try to get more out of him, he pushes himself up and away from you, supporting himself on shaking arms. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” He mutters. His voice is trembling; he sounds completely destroyed. “Inappropriate of me, I… I should’ve controlled myself…” 

“Sanji!” You’re incredulous. “You’re apologizing for being turned on?”

“I don’t want to take advantage-”

“I’d be offended if you didn’t get a boner from making out with me!” You reach up and put your hands on his sides and yes, yes, he feels just as incredible as you’ve always dreamed. Soft skin, hardened planes of muscle, a dappling of goosebumps that spread as you run your hands up to his chest and stroke from his breastbone across his pecs. “Your nipples are hard, too…”

“Angel, please–!”

You run a thumb around his left nipple and he trembles like his arms are about to give out. 

“You don’t like when I tease you?” You coo. Since when do you coo? That’s a special tone, one reserved for fantasies of how exactly you’d treat Sanji. 

Your heart slams in your chest as the totality of this moment settles in. This is like one of your fantasies, exactly like one of your fantasies, and you intend to live it out to its fullest.

“I like it-!” His hips buck, erection grazing your stomach. “I really like it, please– Please, I can’t– I’m trying to be good! I haven’t even–” A delicious whimper. “-Even taken you on a date yet, and I wanted to–”

Your hand stills. Sanji sighs in relief, or disappointment, or both. 

“Do you not want to do this right now?” You ask. “You can say no and I won’t be mad at all, Sanji. I don’t want to pressure you.” 

“Pressure me?” He repeats in a sort of hysterical whisper. “I’m worried about pressuring you! You were so cold earlier, and scared, and I’m supposed to be protecting you! Not–” He swallows. 

“Not having sex with me?”

“Having–?” He gasps, and apparently gives up on supporting himself entirely, sinking down so his elbows meet the floor. It inadvertently presses his hard cock snug against you, but you decide to politely wait for him to process this turn of events before doing something stupid like grabbing his ass and dragging his hips against yours. You knew that if you ever did propose sex to Sanji it would at the very most kill him and at the very least render him inoperable for a while.

“I–I– my beloved, my goddess, please forgive me,” he breathes into your neck. “I must have misheard you.”

“I said ‘having sex with me,’” you repeat, gently patting his back to help him through this trying time. “That’s not what you expected tonight, huh?”

“No!” He shakes his head vigorously. “No! Having– making love to you would be the greatest honor, my angel! But I don’t have ulterior motives, I promise!” 

You don’t mention that he’s laying flush against you with his boner pressing inches from your soaking wet pussy. 

“Tell me to leave and I will!” He sobs. “I can go back outside and guard your tent from there. If the wolves come, they can take me! They don’t deserve meat as pure as yours…” 

“Sanji!” You can’t keep the smile out of your voice. “Sanji, what the hell? What’s wrong with you? Nobody’s asking you to be self-sacrificial! We’re literally just camping.”

He peeks up at you, and you can feel his pout spiritually despite the darkness.

“Should I ignore that you just compared me to meat?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean–!”

“And you’re not the only one capable of having ulterior motives.” 

“...Huh?”

“Sanji, I wasn’t scared of the wolves. And I don’t actually need you protecting me. I wouldn’t be on the crew if I couldn’t fend for myself- uh,uh-!” You reach up and put a hand over his mouth as he starts to protest.  “I know you don’t want me to have to. I know that, Sanji! But I wouldn’t die if I slept in a tent ten feet away from yours. I said those things because I wanted to share a tent with you. I wanted to be intimate with you. I’ve wanted it for a really long time.”

Hand still clamped over Sanji’s mouth, you can feel his breath stop. If he was still when you kissed him, he’s a statue now, hovering motionless above you. You take your hand away in case you’re suffocating him, and it works: he starts panting like he’s letting off heat. 

“Darling, you mean that? You mean it?” 

“Yes, of course I mean it. Sanji, you’re the sweetest person I know, and I really care about you. And you drive me completely insane, I mean…” You stroke his cheek with your thumb, up and down. “The pet names and the declarations of devotion and all that. It’s not every day an incredibly attractive man treats me like a queen.” 

Sanji gasps and turns his face to kiss the palm of your hand again and again. “You deserve nothing less. You deserve the world– A-Attractive–? You really think so?”

“Very attractive. Such a cute boy…”

Sanji’s head falls down to your shoulder, and he kisses at your neck with a desperation that surprises you, sweet, chaste pecks quickly turning into long, wet drags of his lips. “Thank you,” he gasps. “You’re so beautiful, you’re so good to me–” 

“Oh, Sanji…” You moan, and Sanji moans with you, right into your neck. His hot breath against your neck makes your pussy throb; your thighs clench involuntarily and you know that Sanji feels it, because he stills for a moment before wetly kissing your collarbone.

“Did that feel good? I’m making you feel good?” 

“Sanji, you’re incredible, you’re doing perfectly–” You bury your hand in his hair and pull his head insistently to your jaw, and he yields immediately, allowing himself to be manhandled with a small, happy whine.

“My princess, my love, let me worship you…” He kisses a line under your jaw, then moves down the column of your neck. The damp patches he leaves cool almost immediately, and the chill makes you want more of his warm, bare body against you. You loop your hands around his back and tug him into you, chest to chest.

“Keep me warm,” you murmur. “Need to feel your skin against mine.” 

“Oh…” He sounds reverent. “I’ll keep you warm. I’ll take care of you. What do you need? Please tell me. You can order me around or– or pull me like you did. I want you to take what you need from me.”

“God, Sanji, you’re incredible… Can you bite my neck?”

“Bite you?” His hands settle uncertainly on your shoulders. “Angel, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“No, no, it’s not about hurting. It feels good for me. Just light bites, Sanji. You won’t hurt me, I promise.”

“Gentle? I can be gentle?”

“Yes, yes, that’s a good start– oh–” You’re cut off by the first exploratory nibble to the base of your neck. You tangle your fingers into his hair, tugging, and he hums and bites again, slightly harder.

“Oh, god–” You gasp, abandoning any effort at holding back. Sanji responds like a man starved at any reaction he can get out of you, lavishing your neck in attention and readjusting to target sensitive areas. 

“I’m not hurting you?” He barely manages to ask it, he’s so breathless.

“No, no, keep going– You can touch me.” You grab his hands and guide them away from your shoulders.

“God– please, please–” He palms your sides, just below your breasts, and you can feel that his hands are sweaty, shaking. “I want to be good. Can I touch you here? Please? I need to be a good boy for you.” 

“You can touch me anywhere, please…” You nearly forget to breathe as his hands skate up to settle under your breasts. The way he’s panting, begging, makes you feel so hot and feral, and you reach down to find the waistband of his boxers.

His hips snap forward and he lets out a trembling moan. 

“So sensitive for me…” You mutter, slipping your hand down to cup him through his boxers.

“Angel, my angel–” He nearly collapses, his kisses devolving into needy licks at your neck, living up to the image of the desperate puppy you’ve always known him to be. “Please, please, let me pleasure you first. I’m not going to last if you keep touching me–!”

He whines as you move your other hand to squeeze his ass. 

“I’m barely touching you. So desperate for me…”

“Yes, yes! I’m desperate, I’ll do anything. Please, please let me take care of you.” 

“Already begging and I didn’t even ask…” 

“Oh, god! You’re perfect, you’re truly an angel– no, a goddess–” He grinds into your hand and licks down your chest until he finds a nipple to lap at greedily. 

“Fuck!” You squeeze his cock through his boxers and he noses between your tits, pressing wet kisses to your sternum. You can hear him sniffing you, feel him tilting his head back and forth, and you laugh in affection and disbelief as you realize this is probably Sanji’s heaven: his face in a woman’s tits as she palms his erection. 

“You’re so hard for me…” You trace his erection and swipe a thumb over where the head must be. He whines into your tits. 

“You did this to me…” His voice is muffled. “Please, please, I’m about to cum. Let me take care of you first! I’m here to serve you, just call me your dog…” 

“Fuck, fuck, I’m going to go insane if you don’t touch my pussy right now–” 

Sanji whines, lifting his head up to look into your eyes. His hands scramble downwards, squeezing your tits once as if to say goodbye and then pushing desperately at your hips. You take your hands off of him and push your panties down. 

“Feel how wet I am, all for you…” 

“For me?” He huffs. “You really are? You’re wet, just for me?” 

You guide his hand between your legs and he trembles, shaking fingers brushing your folds. He carefully strokes down and gasps, gathering slick on his fingers and drawing them in a circle around your entrance. 

“You’re so warm… God, you’re so wet and hot here. Is this really for me?”

“I’m wet because of you, Sanji. You make me so wet.” You guide his fingers upwards and groan as his middle finger brushes your clit. “Right there, that’s the spot–”

“Oh…” He gasps in pure wonder, gently swirling his fingers around it. “Oh, that’s it… Is this good for you? Please, I’ve never– Never touched anyone here before…” 

You nearly come just hearing that you’re his first. He’s so excited, so nervous and eager to please, so careful in his exploration of your body, and you can’t resist pulling him down to kiss him, open-mouthed and hungry.

You break away and kiss the corner of his mouth, feeling his fingers slide wetly against you. 

“I’ll show you,” you mutter against his lips. “I can teach you.” 

You guide his fingers gently over your clit, showing him how to circle it, the right amount of pressure, the right tempo. He nods his head at each new scrap of feedback, immediately adopting your preferred method.

“You have– mm– you're very talented with your hands.”

He sighs in pure bliss, sounding every bit like he's just stretched out in a lawn chair in the sun. “It comes with the job. All this time, I thought I was training to improve my culinary skills… I know now it was all for you, to help you feel good.”

You laugh at his dramatics, then melt into a deep exhale as he strokes you just right. He picks up on the cue effortlessly, and keeps doing exactly what you like, fingers at just the right angle and pressure to draw more noises out of you. His fingers briefly dip down to gather more slick and your entire body tenses, toes curling at his fingers teasing your entrance.

“Beautiful, beautiful,” he chants. “You're so warm. Can I put my fingers inside of you? Please?”

“Yesss–” you hiss, hips rolling up into his waiting hand. “God, yes, please-”

He very gently inserts the tip of his middle finger, checking that you're okay. Frustrated, you buck forward so that his finger slips all the way in, and Sanji lets out a noise so awed you'd think he just found the All Blue.

“You're even hotter in here, and wetter–” He shivers as you clench around his finger. It's equal parts endearing and torturous when he begins thrusting his finger into and back out of you; you still his hand by taking his wrist.

“Am I doing it wrong?” He murmurs. You stroke the tender skin of his lower arm and he gasps out a delirious little laugh, like he can't believe his luck. “Please, mellorine, show me…”

“Hook your finger towards yourself, like–” you let out a squeak- “Like that–! Fuck, Sanji, right there- right there, right there, good boy–”

“F-faster? Or is this good?”

“Give me another, I'm ready– Please, I'm so wet for you I'm dripping–”

Sanji whines and quickly fumbles to add another finger, which sinks into you with a squelch that makes your jaw clench in pleasure. 

“You're so perfect,” Sanji babbles. “I can't believe this is happening, You're so beautiful, such a beautiful angel. Thank you for letting me touch you. Thank you, thank you!”

“Harder, harder, right there!”

Sanji hesitates for only a moment before giving into your demands and thrusting against your inner wall until you're near sobbing. He lets out noises of awe and words of praise at every clench around his fingers.

“Sanji, Sanji—” You keen as he finds the perfect tempo, back arching off the sleeping bag. “My clit, too – use your thumb!”

Sanji finds your clit after a moment of effort and rubs it in time to the thrusts of his fingers, remembering the amount of pressure you need, changing speeds until your breath is hitching and your hands are clamped to his shoulders. 

“Is this good for you? Are you close?” Sanji moves to kiss your ear, your throat, your chest.

“Yes, yes, it’s good– you’re such a sweet boy for me–” 

Sanji finds a nipple and begins sucking on it in earnest, face pressed insistently into your breast. His fingers curl into you again and again, his tongue swirls your nipple before he gently nibbles it, and that’s all you can take– you come with a stifled yell and shaking legs.

“Oh angel…” Sanji’s hand stills. “You just had an orgasm, didn’t you? I made you feel that good?” His voice is distant, awed, and he moves to kiss your lips as if in a daze. His mouth is wet and so is his chin, and as you come down from your high you realize your tits are soaked: he was drooling all over you. 

You cup his cheeks and pull his mouth into yours, possessed by some strange urge to lick the saliva off of him, and are met with the taste of iron. You pull away with an amused huff.

“You’re bleeding.” 

“Ah-” One hand shoots up to his nose, and he reaches out of the sleeping bag and into the cold night air to grab his shirt and wipe his face off with it. The action makes his cock graze you and you feel heat ripple through your belly, searing even hotter than before. 

“Get back in here.” You tug Sanji back to you by his shoulders and he happily complies. “Obedient boy. You’re like a little puppy dog, huh?” 

Sanji makes the happiest sound you’ve ever heard as he slumps back down into you, apparently on a new plane of bliss after successfully making you come. He scoops an arm under you and pulls you to his side, slotting a thigh between your legs and threading a hand into your hair. 

“I was good for you, wasn’t I?”

“You were excellent. And such a fast study.” You ruffle his hair and your cunt clenches as he gives a happy little moan in response. “Are you up for round two? I still have another one in me. Or more.”

“Really?” He perks up immediately: it’s action time. “Oh, mellorine, you need me again? Can I taste you?” 

“Holy fucking shit,” you gasp, closing your eyes as you feel an intense wave of pleasure crash over you. You pull his thigh closer to your core and barely resist humping him shamelessly until you’re coming all over his bare skin. “Yes, yes-”

Sanji scrambles into the sleeping bag with such urgency that it’s pulled down with him, exposing you to the biting chill of the air. 

“Sanji, Sanji–!” You grab him by the shoulders. “This isn’t working. I’m going to freeze to death!”

Sanji quickly comes back up and fusses like the sweet mother hen that he is, tucking you both back into the blankets and holding you to him. He smooths his hands up and down your arms to warm you back up.

“Is this better, sweet princess? I can’t have my beloved turning into an icicle.” 

God, he’s so sickeningly sweet it makes you need to see him made a mess of. You ponder the logistics of fucking in the sleeping bag, but decide it’s both implausible and also probably not the romantic and atmospheric way that Sanji would want to lose his virginity to you. He seems like more of a rose petals and candles type of man, and you’re happy to play along. 

“Give me your thigh.”

He presses his leg back to your core and you hiss in delight as his firm muscle puts delicious pressure on your clit and entrance. 

“Angel, you’re so wet! Please, please, can I–?” His fingers slip greedily down, and he strokes an affectionate circle over your vulva, waiting for permission.

Thinking he’s going to touch your clit again, you nod rapidly, but instead he dips his fingers into your pussy to gather slick and bring it to his mouth. He moans loudly, shivering in ecstasy as he gets a taste of you.

“You’re perfect, you’re perfect–!” He gasps into your ear, pressing his thigh upwards to give you more pressure. “You taste perfect! I always knew you were an angel. Thank you, thank you–” 

He licks every last drop from his fingers, slurping loudly and unabashedly and humming in contentment, and it drives you so insane that you thrust yourself into his thigh until you’re coming again. 

You feel your slick wetting his leg, dampening his hair (now there’s a thought that makes your already spent pussy throb, the idea that it’ll be dried by tomorrow); you waste no time in reaching down to grip him through his boxers.

“Angel– My goddess–!” He moves his hips immediately, chasing the friction you’re giving him. “You don’t have to–!” He protests, but makes no move to pull away.

“Fuck, Sanji, you’re incredible. My good boy, all for me. I want you on your knees as soon as you get back to the Sunny. Will you do that?”

“Yes! Yes, please, yes!” He sobs.

“Everyone’s going to hear how loud you’re being,” you tut, beginning to jerk him off. “They’ll know how desperate you are.”

Sanji whimpers pitifully, lips bitten to prevent the noise from carrying. Realistically, you know that if Zoro and Luffy were going to hear it, they’ve probably already heard about twenty minutes of noises they’ll want to forget by morning. 

“You’re all wet already for me, huh?” You tease, and slip your hand into his boxers to test your theory. You were absolutely right: he’s soaked in precum and achingly hard. “Did you like touching me? Did you like tasting your goddess?”

Sanji buries his face into your shoulder to stifle a shout, and comes hotly against your hand. His cum spills onto your wrist and drips down your hand, and you love it, love the physical reminder of how insane you managed to drive him: just a few strokes and he became a trembling mess.

Sanji recovers slowly, breathing hot and slow on your neck and trailing lazy kisses over your collarbone. You gently clean him and yourself with his boxers and he mumbles a thank you, kicking them off and to the bottom of the sleeping bag once you’re done. 

And then he just… gathers you in his arms and holds you. He cradles you to him like you’re the most precious thing in the world, squeezing you to his chest and threading your legs together. He presses kisses to your hairline and you let yourself melt into his chest, sticky and warm and sated.

“Did you really mean it?” He mutters into your hair.

“Mm?”

“When you said you don’t want me to tone it down. Did you mean it?”

“Of course I meant it. You know, I’m hesitant to say something in case it eggs you on too much, but I like how insane you are about women. Especially when it’s about me. You know, I might leave the bathroom door unlocked next time I bathe.”

“You– angel, you wouldn’t–!”

“I would. And you’d have to get there first before one of the other men did… I have my purity to protect, right? You wouldn’t want Zoro seeing me naked.”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Maybe a little. But seriously, Sanji. I’m crazy about you and I want you to feel free to be crazy about me, too. I mean, I’ve never been more flattered in my life than I was at how quickly you tried to eat me out. When we’re back at sea, I’m all yours. I want to see you eat me out like you’re starved.”

He gasps, cupping your cheeks and kissing your nose. “I am starved, I am…” 

“I know, baby boy.” 

Those last words break him. He squeaks and then starts to babble, and you let him process tonight’s events as you tuck the blankets in around the both of you and settle into a comfortable position. 

At some point Sanji snaps out of it and scooches towards you to be snuggled. You wrap your arms around him and pull him to your chest, and he rests his face in your breasts and instantly falls asleep.

“Idiot,” you smile widely, looking down at his head of fluffy hair rising and falling with every breath you take. 

The rain patters against the tent’s roof, and Sanji’s breath whistles while he sleeps against you, and it takes no time to drift off yourself.

[themilfsland]

Here we go again | chapter 2

Pairing(s): Wanda Maximoff X female!reader

Summary: Your path keeps colliding with Wanda, making you wonder if she feels the same way you do or if she even remembers anything. You will have to wait for an answer.

Words count: 2.9k

warning: none

A/n: I tried to make something different with the narrative, so I add some parts as Wanda's POV, but mostly is readers. Please coment if this way is confused/boring, then I can change for the next chapters.

The song lyrics for this chapter is "Angel Eyes" - ABBA

fic menu / chapter 1

"Wanda?"

Her face was expressionless. if she was surprised to see you there, she hid her reaction very well.

"Y/n! What a surprise to see you here!" — she smiled, but her expression remained unreadable. — "Well, let's not keep you waiting. Let me check your room and help with your luggage."

Check-in was done, and Wanda offered a tour of the place—it was truly stunning - the restaurant, the lounge, the game room, and even a cozy little library. Every room had large windows, letting natural light flood in while the fresh breeze played with the curtains.

There was only one problem in that paradise—Wanda. You were trying your hardest to act normal in that situation, but you were probably failing miserably with your awkward smile. On the other hand, Wanda seemed completely at ease, as if running into you didn’t affect her at all—and deep down, that was bothering you.

"Alright, here’s your room." — She handed you the key, and as you reached for it, your fingers brushed against hers. You wondered if she felt the same thing you did. — "This room is great, it has a beautiful view of the sea. I hope you enjoy your stay. If you need anything, I’ll be at the front desk."

Just as she was about to leave, your curiosity won over, and the words escaped your mouth before you could stop them.

"Wanda"

"Hm? Yes?"

"So, you moved? Are you living here now?"

"Oh, yes. Not too far from home, right? But yes, I've been living here. Not too long ago, though." — Her voice saying "home" kept echoing in your head.

You didn’t know what to say, and she didn’t seem to be in the mood for conversation either.

"Well, that's good for you, I guess…"

"Yeah, thanks. I’ll be on my way then, got other things to do. See you around." — She turned, indicating that the conversation was finished.

--

"Okaay, what was that?" — Yelena said, closing the door to the room. You threw the luggage on the floor and headed for the balcony door, needing to breathe.

"Y/n, talk to me. It's her, right? Wanda?" — She followed you to the balcony. — "Well, you have good taste, she's really beautiful."

"Shut up, Yelena!" — You kept your back turned to her.

"Ok, ok, sorry. But it’s not my fault you didn’t have any more pictures of her to show me, so I had to use my imagination. Anyway, she surprised me."

The one time you confided in her about your romantic history with Wanda, you had to leave out some details and tell a few little lies, like saying you didn’t have any photos of her anymore — lies. Now, you felt a sharp twinge of guilt for not being completely honest with your best friend. Maybe it wasn’t just with her that you hadn’t been truthful — perhaps you weren’t being honest with yourself, either.

"If you don’t want to talk, that’s okay too." — She stayed by your side. — "You know, I just want to help you."

You turned to her, locking eyes. — "Then we’re leaving." — You replied firmly, your steps heavy as you made your way toward the room.

"What? No, no, Y/n!" — She grabbed your arm. — "Look at me. You’re not thinking straight. Breathe. Come on, with me." — She started breathing deeply, guiding you to follow her rhythm.

After a few deep breaths, the two of you sat down on the bed.

"So… do you want to talk now?"

You let out a deep sigh. — "I don’t know what to say. It’s her, in the flesh, it’s Wanda."

"Alright… it's her… but you have to remember that what happened between you two is in the past. You’ve moved on, and so has she. You’re both adults now."

"But… but…" — Your words seemed to be trapped in your throat, a wave of frustration and anger starting to course through your veins. — "Did you see how she reacted when she saw me? I looked like a stranger to her. This is ridiculous. I should’ve known from the start that she was like this. I was too pathetic to believe her words. We made plans together!! And then, in my last attempt when things got harder, I went to her house, but that guy, the son of the owner of the place where her family set up their business, told me she didn’t want to see me and had already made her decision. So…"

"Wait, what?" — Yelena interrupted you. — "You never told me about that last part."

"No? Well, maybe because it’s too humiliating. My clown face, staring at that boy — her future boyfriend. Everything was planned, and I was the one who didn’t fit into her story. The worst part was having to hear her last words through his mouth."

"I'm so sorry, Y/n. I didn’t know." — She held your hand. — "Those were her choices, not yours. Whether she regrets it or remembers that time, it’s not for you to know. But you can’t let her affect you like this. She’s in the past."

Yelena's words felt like thorns, but deep down, you knew they were the truth, and she only wanted what was best for you.

"Thank you, Yelena. I needed to hear that. It’s just… it hurts to remember all the good times when I thought I could never live without her."

"Oh, little thing, I know, heartbreaks aren’t easy. But you’re strong, a determined person. And we’re here in this amazing place to have fun and make the most of it." — She said, standing up and pulling you with her. —"Come on, positive energy. No sad faces. Whether Wanda is happy or not, that’s not our problem. Our focus is on us." — She started walking toward the door, holding your hand to make sure you followed. — "Let’s grab something to eat and check out the beach. The next few days will be great, I promise."

---

POV Wanda

Agatha jumped out of her chair as she heard the door being violently thrown open.

"She’s here, she is fucking here."

Another loud noise as the door slammed shut.

Wanda’s body seemed to dissolve like sand onto the couch in the hotel’s office. Agatha remained motionless, sitting behind her desk — she was the owner and manager of the place, and during her free time, she also indulged her talents by mixing drinks at the bar. Her eyes were fixed on Wanda, so confused that she couldn’t say a single word.

She probably said something else, but it was impossible to understand the muffled sound through the pillow.

"Okay, okay, what’s going on? And who is she?" — Agatha stood up and walked toward the sofa.

More muffled and incomprehensible sounds. Agatha rolled her eyes and pulled the pillow completely off Wanda’s face.

"Wow, your face looks terrible. I guess 'she' must be a ghost you just saw." — Wanda let out another frustrating grunt and covered her face with her hands. — "Ok, sorry. Something bad happened. I’m all ears. Tell me." — She pulled Wanda's hands away, now staring at her.

"She’s here. It’s Y/n, she’s here at the hotel."

"Wait a minute. Y/n??? You mean that big love of yours?"

"Shut up. She’s not my great love. She’s ridiculous. She left me, don’t you remember what I told you???"

"Yeah, yeah, I remember. You were in love and made plans for the future, but then she told your guy she was leaving and didn’t even want to speak to you directly."

"Yes, she left me, and no, Vision is not my man. Please, you know that whole other story with all the details, we don’t need to talk about it again."

"I know, I know, my bad. I just want to say that you made great memories with Y/n and then with Vision, and both are in your past. There’s no reason for this to shake you now, you’ve moved on, and I’m really proud of you."

"Thank you, Agatha. But why would she be here? Exactly here?"

"Hmm, I don't know… This is a tourist spot, anyone could come here. Is she alone?"

"No… there’s another woman with her."

"Oh, so it's a honeymoon."

"What? Are you crazy? They’re not together like that, why would they be a couple???"

Agatha noticed the shift in Wanda's tone of voice.

"I don’t know. Maybe because this is a place couples usually visit? And what if they were a couple? Didn’t you say you didn’t want to know about her anymore and that you didn’t care? It seemed to me like you had gotten over her years ago."

"Of course, I’ve gotten over her, and honestly, her personal life doesn’t interest me."

The seconds of silence felt eternal. Wanda sat down on the sofa, now next to Agatha. A sigh of frustration escaped her.

"Alright, no bad mood here. I know seeing her again made your heart tremble a little, and there’s no point in denying it, I know you. But I won’t force you to open up about your feelings right now, you need to breathe a bit."

Agatha stood up, pulling Wanda’s hands to get her to stand as well.

"Let’s go buy some sweets for you to eat."

"You know, something with alcohol would be more welcome right now."

Agatha let out a laugh as she walked toward the office door. — "First of all, I believe it's still too early to drink, and second, I think you forgot the simple detail that you can’t do that." — She left the door open, signalling for Wanda to follow her.

"Ugh, sometimes you’re so boring."

---

"Everything here is perfectly perfect. I feel like I’m in a summer movie." — Yelena said, walking beside you while swinging a shopping bag — this is what she said she wouldn’t spend too much on during the trip. — "Now I get the feeling you have about this place."

"See? I’m always right." — You winked at her. — "I’m just looking forward to seeing you wear that hat you just bought. It’s so out of your style."

"Are you mocking me? I can't believe it, what a terrible friend you are!!!" — She pulled the hat out of the bag and put it on her head. — "See? This is style." — She struck a pose. — "It’s not just you and your love who have a beach vibe."

You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms. — "Honestly, Yelena. Can you just be quiet for one second?" — You knew she was just playing around, but deep inside, your mind brought back images of you and Wanda watching the sunset by the beach. It was a nice memory, and you allowed yourself to enjoy the warm feeling that came with it.

"Where's your sense of humor? I feel like my best friend got swapped out on this trip. Come on, Y/n, you’re not like this. Just relax."

Before you could respond, she pointed ahead and said, — "Ice cream!! Let’s get some. Look, I’ll grab that table for us to sit at, you make the order." — Not giving you a chance to argue, she headed toward the table. — "Find a refreshing flavour for me, like some natural fruit, lemon or mango, I don’t know. Just pick something tasty."

--

You placed your order and stood waiting by the counter. Your thoughts were calmer now. The walk and fresh air had really done you good. Even though it wasn’t your hometown, you felt welcome, almost as if you were at home. The view of the sea, the tranquillity, people laughing and having fun – it was your place of peace.

Thinking of your hometown brought Wanda to your memory. You tried to focus on the good moments—the first date, the walks together on the beach, the meals you cooked together, everything when it was still good, just you and her. But then, your memories unravelled as your vision adjusted to the sight of Wanda right there in front of you.

"Oh, hi there." Her voice was soft as if it was meant only for you to hear.

It took you a few seconds to process that she was actually standing there in front of you and not just a figment of your imagination. Her scent was the same as always—the smell you had once been addicted to. She was closer now, even more so than when you had met earlier. You could see every detail of her face—your eyes tracing every feature, like watching a favourite old movie replaying. Soon, a wave of sadness washed over you, mixed with a bitter tinge of anger—bad memories consuming you. How was she able to make you feel all the good and bad things at once?

"Are you okay?" Her voice again reminded you that you hadn’t responded. "Don't tell me you're remapping the stars." She let out a soft laugh, easing the tension in the air.

That phrase made your stomach twist—"remapping the stars"—it was what you always said to her whenever you found yourself admiring her face - when her face was so close to yours. And sometimes, your fingers would trace her skin, caressing every part: her lips, her eyebrows, her mouth, her nose. Every touch of yours, you said you were mapping the stars.

Why did she say that? Does she remember everything like you do? But how unfair and painful it was for her to say that to you. You swallowed hard, feeling your throat tighten. You forced yourself to give the bare minimum of a response, acting as if it hadn’t affected you at all.

"I'm waiting for the ice cream that Yelena ordered."

"Oh, of course."

You noticed how her expression and mood shifted suddenly. Then, you found yourself questioning what could have caused this change—was it because you mentioned your friend's name? Is she imagining things about you two? Or is it you who’s imagining things?

The uncomfortable silence was broken when the attendant appeared at the counter holding an ice cream.

"Vanilla with chocolate chips? Whose order is this?"

"It’s hers." You said without thinking, so spontaneously that it even surprised you.

The attendant handed her the ice cream, she took it- a surprised glance came your way.

"How did you know?"

"Oh, um, I guess your favourite flavour hasn’t changed then." You forced a laugh to lighten the moment.

She just nodded. "See you around, then. Bye."

---

"Sooo… aren't you going to tell me?" Yelena said, savouring her ice cream.

"Tell you what?" You tried to play dumb.

"Seriously, y/n? I saw everything."

"Everything? What did you see then?"

"Are you playing the fool? Alright then, I saw you talking to Wanda and the way you were looking at her." She raised an eyebrow as if challenging you.

"And what kind of look would that be?"

"Okay, look, if you don’t want to talk about what just happened, we can stop here. I’m just trying to help and understand." Her dry tone definitely irritated you. "But I saw your look to her like you were going through a whirlwind of emotions all at once."

"It’s just… I… she… it’s totally her fault! Did you look into her angel eyes?? one look and you're hypnotized." You tried to justify yourself, but as soon as the words left your mouth, you immediately regretted it.

"Wow, are you trying to justify yourself, or are you convincing me that you still have feelings for her? I’m confused now."

You took a deep breath, trying to understand your feelings—the truth was, you didn’t know the real answer to her question.

"I don't know, it's just that every time I see her, will it bring back all the pain?"

You sounded sincere, and Yelena nodded, giving you the space to organize your thoughts.

---

POV Wanda

"Perfect, Agatha. Of all the places here, she was there, making an order."

"This time, you can't blame me. It was you who wanted ice cream, and here we are."

"Okay, but why didn’t you come wait with me? You said you were coming right behind."

"I know, but then I saw you start interacting with someone — y/n. So I thought it was better not to intervene."

Wanda stopped walking, standing still and staring at Agatha with her arms crossed.

"Honestly? The conversation seemed to be going well between you two. What happened in the end?"

"What happened? I don’t know, she was just there waiting for her order—the ice cream for that other girl." - Wanda emphasized mentioning Yelena, and Agatha noticed.

"So, are you jealous? You don’t even know that other girl properly."

"I’m not jealous!!! And I don’t care about that other girl or anything. I don’t care, okay? Even though she always used to look at me that way. I guess it’s a game she likes to play."

"Okay, Wanda. If you say so. And honestly, maybe you’re seeing things that aren’t there. Maybe it’s your heart speaking this time."

Wanda chose not to continue the conversation. She ignored Agatha and turned, heading back to the hotel. She savoured her ice cream—her favourite flavour, vanilla with chocolate chips. The last words of her friend replayed in her mind—heart? Oh silly and fool heart. "She took my heart, now I must pay the price," Wanda whispered to herself.

Taglist:

@starrycherie ; @raven-ss ; @swaqcenix ; @milflovers4

[thesvnandthemooon]

in the juno universe, do you think they had a super chaotic birth like she went into labour in a really rando place? and how was nat as a birthing partner?

i feel like it probably happened during a basketball game lol.

you were probably about week over the due date, and nothing was really happening, so you convinced nat to just go play because “it’ll be fine anyway.” basically, you thought you’d have time — but you didn’t.

the gym was packed, the game had everyone on the edge of their seats. you were chilling in the row right behind the team’s home bench, snacks on your belly, when you felt something wet between your legs.

the real kicker? the game was tied. natasha had just gotten possession of the ball.

not for long. wanda, sitting next to you, gasped. being the team captain’s pregnant girlfriend, her reaction was noticed by at least half the gym.

suddenly, everyone around you went dead silent and started staring. natasha, dribbling the ball and literally about to score, heard wanda yell her name.

she turned around only to see her wave her arms frantically because, well, you’re about to give birth. boom, the ball drops, and nat is sprinting toward the stands. some people booed.

nat: “you can’t be serious. now??”

you: “you’re slacking, anyway. now help me up!”

natasha was panicking. you’re annoyed at your baby. daisy was yelling ‘game over!’ and climbing over seats.

half the team abandoned the game to help, so the announcer couldn’t do much but warily suggest a timeout. you got up and waddled through the emergency lane created by people parting.

jump cut to you in the car. nat’s driving like a lunatic, daisy had turned into a wannabe-doula, and you were miserable, wet, and done. (maybe baby-trapping her wasn’t the best idea after all)

boom, hospital. wanda called them from the car and explained the situation in a little too much detail, so you’re already known as ‘the ones with the basketball baby’.

at first, it’s fine. you’re not in too much pain, so you’re basically just doing what you also do at home. sit there, eat, maybe let a light contraction pass every now and then.

when it got painful, though, you were suffering. and you made sure everyone else suffered as well (mostly natasha).

speaking of nat as a birthing partner: supportive but overwhelmed. seriously. partially because you’re literally giving birth to your child, but also because in that moment, you weren’t exactly pleasant to be around. there was cursing, yelling, manicured nails digging into her arms. her heart was racing, but she was determined to be good. when you started threatening to gut her, though, she almost shot out of her chair (the midwife quickly pushed her back down, though).

more screaming. more crying. telling natasha to go fuck herself until she was sweating and out of jokes to crack. you also got into an argument at some point, too — mostly because you kept throwing insults at her. she started snapping back, her arms crossed in a sulky manner, and the nurses kept glancing at each other like ‘are they serious?’

(she definitely said something incredibly stupid, too. like, “should’ve thought twice about making me fuck you raw.” you lost it.)

then, however, your contractions got worse. much worse. you went from yelling to sobbing, gripping the sides of the bed, and natasha faltered. she was by your side again immediately, no need for hesitation or thinking twice. you kept cussing her out in between sobs, but she stayed quiet this time, rubbing your back and letting you break her fingers. just holding your face and kissing you, even agreeing to some of the stuff you kept throwing at her. once the contractions got really bad, though, even you couldn’t keep this up. you were a mess, right until that moment you heard niko’s first cries.

just imagine beefy nat holding niko though 🥹 just sitting there, still in her sweaty jersey from the game, all muscular arms and hands so big they engulf his little body. she was 100% ugly crying, too.

no doubt nat went to the coach’s office first thing next day, demanding that very basketball she was holding when your water broke. she had it cleaned and signed by basically everyone — you, herself, the team, your friends.

[skeptiiciizm]

You see three happy people and thought “I wonder if they’re sad.” Shame on you. However…

... I do have some.

Because of Hermes' constant overflowing duties every day, he barely has time to hang out with his lovers. Apollo and Aphrodite fully understand this, of course, but Hermes feels like he's failing as a partner bcus he can't hang out with them.

Apollo and Aphrodite have said many times that it's okay, but Hermes’ stubborn ass simply won't take it.

Doing the deed is very special in their relationship, and these three can’t do it if the other partner is not there.

However, since Hermes is always busy, he’s the one who participated the least in these intimate acts… and that makes him even more of a failure as his lovers’ partner.

I’ve thought of this one scenario where Hermes had to stay in the Underworld for months because of Hades’ constant overflowing work. Mixing that with his average duties as the messenger of the gods, those regular moments of his day to greet his partners became nonexistent. Not even a small lil hi to them. Nothing. And he hates it.

When they reunited, they had the most mind blowing, blissful, exPLODING deed ever

Aphrodite and Hermes get extremely jealous whenever Apollo mourns and grief for his dead mortal lovers.

Cruel, I know. They know.

But when you’ve been with the same man who fell head over heels for every single pretty lil mortal that walks on the mortal realm, you’ll start to feel… annoyed from it.

These three still have lovers outside of this relationship, of course, but you still can’t help the feeling, y’know.

Like damn… your mortal partner died… boohoo ours too move on…

I guess the only upside to this is that Apollo would always come to them, crying to them about his lil relationship problems. The fact that Apollo comes to them, out of everyone, makes them feel selfishly happy.

Sorry I don’t really have any angsty headcanons for Aphrodite lol

Apollo and Hermes physically and mentally can’t be mad at her. Mwah.

Though, she does take advantage of that… sometimes… up to you if those advantages are good or bad.

These three rarely have fights, but when they do, it’s a big one.

In the aftermath, Apollo’s go-tos are anger outbursts. Hurtful words he would never even thought of using it on his lovers. After that, silent treatments. Silent treatment to his lovers, to everyone, to the whole world. Can go on hours, days, weeks, years, depends on how petty he is.

Aphrodite goes to Ares to rant abt Hermes and Apollo after fights. Some hurtful words and comments here and there, “Why would he even fucking say that?!” some crying and maybe… a lil curse on them to never feel love again… just for a couple of days, or years… depends on how petty she is.

Hermes drowns himself in tasks to forget abt his feelings. Fake smiles, fake laughter, pulling up his customer service persona to mask his true feelings. He jokes and appears to be unaffected, but behind closed doors, the facade breaks and he starts crying and breaking down on the floor.

These three’s egos are too big to swallow and to apologise. However, when it came to the point ignoring each other feels too unbearable, they come back to each other’s arms.

Apollo and Hermes never physically fights w Aphrodite, but for each other, shit gets physical when conflict strikes.

Hair pulling, painful punches, hurtful insults. I’m not talking fights with teehee sexual tension in the air btw, I mean these two NEED to see the other hurt, no matter how much the other means to them.

I hope you know at the end of each headcanons they openly communicated their feelings and solved their relationship problems like proper adults. I’m just coming up with stuff if Aphrollomes ever gets hypothetically angsty. Blame @letmebesilly not me! Hope you like these!

[lucabyte]

Taking pride in One's own appearance.

[buddiefamily]

If (when) buddie goes canon and they don’t do a secret relationship arc I’m gonna be soooo mad!

[leonardalphachurch]

sometimes i remember that most north fans don’t write him as an absolute insane person ethical manipulative girlfriend style and i’m like. what is he even then… just a pleasant white man? you know what. more power to you if you need a pleasant white man for a blorbo but god that could not be me

[kyouka-supremacy]

--

[jackass-jones]

I understand that the problem Linda would have in the hypothetical scenario where she catches Phineas and Ferb building some crazy shit is that its very dangerous for two kids to be caught up in something like that and it’s also just kinda an inconvenience like oh great now there’s this big ass roller coaster in the yard how the hell are we gonna clean this mess, I get it. But I just find it hard to believe that she wouldn’t be super impressed like my girl Linda loses her shit over the most mundane things so having her sons be these super geniuses capable of all this crazy shit would be awesome as hell she’d be proud

[teamfortresstwo]

In a life swap AU rather than just a role swap I think it would be sooo fucked up if Patroclus swapped with Theseus and Achilles with Asterius

[quietwingsinthesky]

went into the notes of that poll going around about if people want more seasons of supernatural and was immediately slapped in the face with how different my priorities are in this fandom from. a lot of it. what are you talking about ‘destiel endgame’. girl the show has bigger problems to fix than that if it ever had more seasons. they taught a three year old that the best way to be loved was to continuously try to kill himself and then they made him god.

[fatmaclover]

going through loops and loops of "i got sick thinking about macdennis. i wanna write joymac" and then "thinking about joymac is making me so sad. i wanna go back to writing macden" and then it keeps repeating and i never actually write anything because i think about the characters too much and feel like a fuckin grouper with all my babys in my mouth. like oh my God dude. holy shit. can this show stop being so tragic

[pibsboots]

I've always had chronic fatigue. I remember being twelve, and an adult mentioned how I couldn't possibly know how tired they felt because adulthood brought levels of exhaustion I couldn't imagine. I thought about that for days in fear, because I couldn't remember the last time I didn't feel tired.

Eventually I came to terms with the fact that I was just tired, and I couldn't do as many things as everyone else. People called me lazy, and I knew that wasn't true, but there's only so many times you can say "I'm tired" before people think it's an excuse. I don't blame them. When a teenager does 20 hours of extracurriculars every week and only says "I'm too tired" when you ask them to do the dishes, it's natural to think it's an excuse. At some point, I started to think the same thing.

It didn't matter that I could barely sit up. It was probably all in my head, and if I really wanted to, I could do it.

When I learned the name for it, chronic fatigue, I thought wow, people that have that must be miserable, because I am always tired and I cannot imagine what it would feel like if it were worse.

Spoiler alert, if you've been tired for a decade, it's probably chronic fatigue.

Once I figured that out though, I thought of my energy as the same as everyone else's, just smaller in quantity. And that might be true for some people, but I've figured out recently that it absolutely isn't true for me.

I used to be like wow I have so much energy today I can do this whole list for sure! And then I'd do the dishes and have to lay down for 2 hours. Then I'd think I must gave misjudged that, I didn't have as much energy as I thought.

But the thing is - I did have enough energy for more tasks, I just didn't go about them properly.

With chronic fatigue, your maximum energy is obviously much smaller than the average person's. Doing the dishes for you might use up the same percentage of energy that it takes to do all the daily chores for someone else.

If someone without chronic fatigue was to do all the daily chores, they would take breaks. Because otherwise, they're sprinting a marathon for no reason and it would take way more energy than necessary. We have to do the same.

Put the cups in the dishwasher, take a break. Put the bowls in, take a break. So on and so forth. This may mean taking breaks every 2-5 minutes but afterwards, you get to not feel like you've run a marathon while carrying 4 people on your back.

Today, I had a moderate amount of energy. Under my old system of go till you drop, I probably could have done most of the dishes and wiped off the counter and then been dead to the world for the rest of the day.

Under the new system, I scooped litter boxes, cleaned out the fridge, took the trash out, cleaned the stove, and wiped off the counter and did all the dishes. And after all that, I still had it in me to make a simple dinner, unload the dishwasher, and tidy the kitchen.

It was complete and utter insanity. Just because I sat down whenever I felt myself getting more tired than I already was.

All this to say, take fucking breaks. It's time to unlearn the ceaseless productivity bullshit that capitalism has shoved down our throats. Its actively counterproductive. Just sit down. Drink some water. Rest your body when it needs to rest.

There will still be days where there is nothing to do but rest, and days where half a load of dishes is absolutely the most I can do. But this method has really helped me minimize those, which is so incredibly relieving.

[cacoetheswriting]

i am weak for shy and nervous eddie munson who fumbles when around his crush. imagine him pining over this girl who he’s never even talked to, (maybe they have different social circles) and he just sees her around with her friends and he is smitten and then one day they accidentally bump into each other and she’s like “you’re eddie right?” and you know he’d be so flustered.

pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader word count: 2.2k

content warnings: lovesick eddie, pining, a little self-deprecation and self-doubt, mostly cheese and fluff, adult language - wildly unedited, oops.

“I hate this fucking school.”

The group exchange knowing glances as Eddie sits at the table with a grumble. His lunch tray lands with a low crash, nearly colliding with Gareth’s juicebox and therefore spilling its contents all over. A huff and quick reflexes on Jeff’s part save the group from catastrophe, more importantly, save the homework the boy had yet to finish ahead of next period. 

Eddie however, doesn’t notice the mess he has almost created. Frankly, he’s not paying attention. Even when Gareth tells him to, “Watch it, dude.”. The metal-head flicks his hand to say he’s sorry for whatever it is that his friends are chastising him for, but his eyes are fixed ahead, on the sole reason he’s in such a grumpy mood.

You.

Or rather Steve the dick Harrington, who’s got his arm draped shamelessly around your shoulders, as if he wasn’t just publicly humiliating Nancy Wheeler — since up until mere twenty-four hours ago, Hawkins High thought the blue-eyed girl was the King’s girlfriend, not you.

Eddie’s miserable. When did this happen? How did this even happen?

Last night, Steve and Nancy were all over each other. Eddie knows this to be fact since he saw them together at that party he wasn’t invited to as a guest, but to work because the popular kids always need a fix and he needs to make a living if he’s ever going to leave this shithole town. Anyway, that’s when Eddie saw the “it” couple and yet, now Nancy is nowhere to be seen and you’re snuggling into Harrington.

“I hate this fucking school,” Eddie repeats, sticking his fork into today’s cafeteria lunch. “Everyone is so two-faced and fake. No one has any integrity.”

The guys don’t need to follow his line of sight because they know very well who and what the metal-head is talking about.

“Maybe if you just talked to her, then you wouldn’t be so miserable today.” Jeff notes without looking up from his homework. “Plus, I overheard Charmaine tell Julie that Harrington is continuing to hold a candle for Nancy. This thing over there, that you’re obsessing over, is just friends being friends.”

“Doesn’t look like just friends to me,” Eddie grumbles, then looks at Jeff. “And I tried talking to her. It’s just, every time I do, my mind goes blank.”

Gareth rolls his eyes. “Dude, she’s not some superbeing. She’s a girl from our school. You’ve got no problem talking to other girls?”

Eddie doesn’t say anything because how does he go about explaining to his friends that to him, you’re more than a girl from school. It’s embarrassing enough how he’s never talked to you and yet, you occupy his entire mind and soul. The guys think it’s just another crush. Eddie knows it’s not. He can’t tell them though because they’ll laugh him out of it. Eddie the freak Munson is very much pining after a girl who doesn’t know he exists. Pathetic.

So, as any respectable guy in his situation would, Eddie continues to wallow in his own self-pity. 

He stares at you throughout the remainder of the lunch break, narrowly avoiding your gaze here and there by simply looking away. His downcast humour continues throughout the rest of the day. Since he doesn’t often engage in class anyway, the teachers pay him no mind. Although, their reasons are different: a quiet Eddie Munson is better than one who causes various disturbances. After the final bell ring, he hurries out of the building and blares music the entire drive home, to fizz out his thoughts.

Called into work. Here’s some cash. Go to the diner. 

Wayne

Eddie sighs. The one thing he was hoping for were his uncle's words of wisdom, although it seems that will also have to wait. Eddie slides the note into the pocket of his denim jeans and he is out the door again.

The diner is about thirty minutes away from the trailer, by foot. The metal-head decided to walk it anyway, hoping the fresh air would knock some sense into him because he’s got no business feeling this emotionally shattered. 

Maybe if he wasn’t such a bitch boy around you, things would be different. Unfortunately, for some reason, ever since he first laid eyes on you, Eddie’s default is shy.

Okay, maybe you and Harrington are a thing now, so what? Eddie’s got no claim on you, unspoken or otherwise. You can date whoever, even if it’s Steve the asshole. It’s also not like you and Nancy are friends. Everyone at school knows you two run in different circles, meaning no girl-code is being broken. There is also the possibility of what Jeff overheard from Charmaine and Julie being true: you and Harrington are nothing but friends. Very friendly friends. Touchy, feely. And Eddie would have noticed earlier if it were simply the case of friendship, therefore, he concludes that you are in fact dating Steve the douche Harrington and he somehow has to come to terms with it.

Eddie pushes the door open and makes a beeline for an empty booth. He orders a burger with fries and a soda from the middle-aged waitress, then whips out a notebook from his backpack while he waits. The only one he carries and it’s not for any schoolwork. The numbers scribbled hastily in the margins are easily mistaken for maths, but that’s just business. He focuses instead on the latest D&D campaign he’s working on.

For a moment, the metal-head forgets about today's events. He gets lost in the fictional world he’s creating. The made up monsters replace any harboured thoughts of you with Steve the turd, although one closely resembles Harrington's famous head of hair and he smirks, proud of himself for the immaturity. He figures if girls can write about their demons in journals, he can bring them into D&D. Bring them, then kill them.

He’s just about finished marking a big cross over the doodle of monster Steve when a figure steps in front of the light, creating a shadow over his notebook. Eddie sighs, foot tapping underneath the table in frustration. He’s about to make a rude remark, but when he looks up to meet the eyes of the perpetrator, he’s met with your wide gaze and naturally, he freezes.

“I like your drawings,” you say.

“Uhm, t-thanks,” he fumbles.

“You’re Eddie, right?”

All he can do is nod in response and you smile. Small and charming. Enough to make the brunette’s head spin and pinch his leg because he can’t believe this is happening. Surely, this must be a dream of some sort. He came home and passed out on the sofa. The only logical explanation for why you would be talking to him, complementing his stupid little doodles. The only logical explanation for why you know his fucking name.

“We’ve never officially met,” you begin and reach out your hand. 

Eddie glances at it and without really thinking, he utters, “I know who you are.”

It comes out a little more mean than he intends it to, he knows because you retreat your hand as if you’ve been burned. Eddie’s heart stings. Now he knows it’s real since only he’d be stupid enough to ruin a good thing before it even began. He’s an asshole.

“Sorry,” he mumbles quickly, then straightens in his seat. “Do you wanna sit? I-I have fries.”

He chews on the inside of his cheek for how incredibly pathetic that sounded; fries. You however, don’t notice and you’re also kind enough not to point out how he’s stumbling about his words like a little schoolkid.

“I love french fries.”

And with that, you’re sliding into the booth, across from him.

Eddie watches in disbelief as you help yourself to his food, not just the potato side, as if the two of you have been friends a lifetime. Then, probably to confuse him even more, you start telling him about how your parents locked you out and how it’s nice to see a familiar face, while he’s sitting there in silence, taking it all in, wondering whether perhaps this was some cruel joke Harrington and his band of losers were playing on him.

He wants to ask. Save himself the embarrassment if this does end up being a prank and tomorrow’s gossip: Eddie the freak Munson thought he had a chance. You keep talking, only taking small pauses to take bites out of his food or a sip of his soda, and to Eddie’s surprise nothing happens. No one jumps out screaming, laughing, pointing at him. This is really happening and he is truly baffled.

“Can we get another burger meal and the same soda?” You order from the waitress when she comes around to check the tables and afterwards, turn to look at Eddie, smile ever present. “Kinda ate most of yours.”

“It’s fine,” he manages to say.

For the first time since you sat down, it’s quiet. Now you’re the one staring at him, head tilted slightly to the one side. The smile on your face transforms into something more thoughtful, as if you were trying to read his mind — which is exactly the same thing Eddie was trying to do to you.

“So,” you begin again, “What were you scribbling intently before I crashed the party?”

“Just some stuff for an afterschool thing,” Eddie answers with a shrug, voice a little shaky.

“Mysterious.”

The sparkle in your eyes screams that you want to know more, but the metal-head is hesitant to share. Even though this wasn’t part of some scheme by Hawkins’ finest, it didn’t mean there wasn’t a different underlying reason as to why you were taking interest in him and he didn’t like when people made a fool of him.

Eddie clears his throat.

“Did your parents really lock you out?” He questions.

A brow goes up, it seems you are surprised at his push back. 

“Yes,” you say matter-of-factly, then add, “They do this sort of thing from time to time. They’re big hippies, so it’s not like neglect or anything. It’s weed. They don’t want me home when they’re high because they think it would make me undermine their authority.”

Eddie smirks and you tell him it’s not funny, but he can’t help the chuckle leave his throat. When you throw a fry at him across the table, smiling wide, he’s no longer feeling the nervous bubble. In fact, he’s suddenly quite relaxed.

“I’m sorry that I’m a good daughter. Next time I’ll be sure to pick a less judgemental table” you say dramatically, although the grin doesn’t leave your features.

The brunette lifts his hands in front of his chest in a defence motion.

“No judgement here. My social status requires me to second guess reasons people have for talking to me. I had to make sure your boyfriend wasn’t going to jump me the second we stepped outside.”

“Boyfriend?” You seem genuinely taken aback by the assumption.

“Harrington,” he clarifies, although he’s not sure why he should be.

Until you laugh. It’s soft and tender, but it’s a laugh nonetheless.

“Steve’s not my boyfriend,” you state in between giggles, “He’s madly in love with Wheeler. God, does the whole school think we’re dating? He’s gonna hate that. Poor Nancy.”

Eddie blinks. Seems Julie’s information was correct, but it still doesn’t explain the closeness and the banter the entire cafeteria was witness to. He feels weird for letting this bother him so much and even though he usually has difficulties keeping his big mouth shut, he doesn’t want you thinking he’s some sort of pervert, so he doesn't say anything, simply bops his head.

Although, his silence doesn’t seem to deter you.

“I noticed you staring,” you admit, half a decibel lower. 

A fresh burger and fries land on the table, followed by a large Coca-Cola. The waitress mutters something along the lines of enjoy, then walks away to tend to another table.

Eddie doesn’t know what to do next: admit or deny. He’d rather go back to fifteen minutes ago when you were eating his food and he wasn’t talking. Therefore, he slides the burger closer to himself and in one swift motion, lifts it to his lips, taking a bite too big for his mouth. He doesn’t care what he looks like at the moment, he just needs to keep himself quiet before saying something else he’s going to regret.

Across the table, you’re all smiley again.

“Do you think, when you’re done eating, you could walk me home?” You ask, offering him a napkin. 

As he nods, he reaches for the paper cloth and his fingers brush yours delicately. There’s a zap of electricity, but if you feel it, you don’t react. Eddie’s continuing with the shyness, so he looks down at the burger in his hand and pretends nothing happened to him either.

It’s not until you lean over the table, index finger stretched and inching forward to touch his face, wiping leftover ketchup from the corner of his mouth, that the metal-head thinks maybe, just maybe, you feel some type of way about him too because that’s not what a person does for someone they only officially met minutes before.

Afterwards, you say, “I’ll tell you all about how I’ve been watching you too.”, and Eddie nearly chokes on his food.

thank you for reading & please support your writers by reblogging <3

[caramelmochacrow]

im so full of meds today yay (for my dumb period cramps)

[yourworldiseternallycomplete]

new m ward album goes crazy i hate bureaucrats and men who think they're better than everyone around them