#nerdy girls everywhere swoon

[morganbritton132]

Eddie post a Tiktok where it’s very clear that he had to scramble to start filming. He pans the camera back and forth between Steve and Dustin as they just stare at each other.

Dustin finally says: …What??

Steve: I said, the bat is in the closet.

Dustin: I asked if you had any protection I could borrow

Steve, like duh: Yeah, I know. That’s why I said the bat is in the closet.

Dustin: Stop saying that! That’s not what I’m ask-

Steve: Stop asking the same question! I have the bat. It’s in the closet. What-

Dustin: Condoms, Steve! I have a date tonight and I was asking if you had condoms.

Steve:

Steve: Borrow???

Eddie: A+ conversation, guys.

[tmntstorycomp]

A Coming Out Story?

An old pride piece that was a discord server exclusive for our pride event lol

Massy stared at the rainbow flags that were thrown across the floor, but mixed within them? A plethora of various other identities. He pulled his legs up onto the couch, leaning against the arm with a huff as he narrowed his gaze. 

It was that time of year again. When Leo would throw his flags everywhere and declare it was Pride month again. And Massy hated it. 

Everyone had a set identity, everyone knew who they were. And in a way, Massy felt like he was supposed to know as well. 

With a huff, his face became half buried within his crossed arms. He kicked a flag off of the couch, but his gaze shifted when a large green hand caught it. 

“Hey, you watch out where you’re kicking stuff. Leo will throw a fit if you’re caught disrespecting the trans flag,” Raph laughed, carefully setting the flag down on the coffee table. 

“Who cares what Nardo believes? If he didn’t want things getting stepped on, or broken, he wouldn’t have left them laying around the floor like this. Honestly, it’s almost more disrespectful.” Donnie spoke as they walked past Raph, tapping away at their screen. Massy had half a mind to ask what Donnie was up to, to distract himself from the mess that is the living room.

But he caught sight of the two magnets attached to the metal shell that the softshell wore and he kept his mouth shut. A white, purple, and gray flag with a black triangle was mounted right above one that was purely yellow, white, purple, and black. 

“Come on, Donnie. You know Leo is just excited.” Raph elbowed his brother lightly, causing the nerdy one to scoff. 

“I would prefer his excitement-”

“What about my excitement?” 

A portal opened and Leo came through it, dumping another box of flags onto the floor with a big grin. This time, it was purely green and blue flags. Massy remembered them distinctly as the MLM flag. Leo claimed that it was the best one, Massy wasn’t so sure. 

“I think you’re making a mess of our home,” Donnie bit out. 

“And I think someone isn’t in the pride spirit.” Leo teased as he plucked up a rainbow flag from the ground and tucked it against Donnie’s goggles as the purple turtle glared at him. 

“You have thirty seconds to run before this becomes a hate crime.”

Leo’s eyes went wide, but his grin only seemed to grow as he turned on his heel and sped out of the living room. Donnie watched their phone, counting down the seconds before they chased after him. This left Massy with the largest turtle.

“.. You look sad, Mass. What’s going on?” Raph asked as he moved to sit on the couch next to the boy. 

Massy huffed, tapping against the fabric of the couch before he sat up, moving to face the large snapper. 

“Everyone has themselves figured out. They get to celebrate who they are and be happy about it. And I’m not.” Massy complained, glancing back down at the array of flags that seemed to stare at him like starter pokemon. 

“Oh! Well.. Maybe you should start with identifying what you like? I mean.. Do you like girls?” Raph asked. 

And Massy paused, because that was a loaded question. He thought girls can be pretty, and certainly he has found himself swooning over some of the female characters in cartoons he watched as a kid, but he wasn’t sure. So, he answered with a shrug. 

“Okay.. Do you like boys?”

And again, the same response. He didn’t know. He certainly wasn’t opposed to boys. He saw a lot of attractive males in the world. But he didn’t know. 

“This is.. Tougher than I thought.” Raph admitted, laughing awkwardly as Massy’s eyes narrowed in on him. 

“Maybe you’re bisexual? Or pansexual? I mean, if you kind of like both boys and girls, surely you would be in one of those categories?” Raph offered, and Massy mulled them over for a bit. 

He knew what they meant. Though he would admit, the difference between the two was still confusing in his mind. But… Maybe he was? Afterall, he didn’t have a particular interest in either gender. Just.. Interest. So.. Bi/Pan Massy. That was the answer. It had to be… But if it were, why did it still feel so off. 

“I’m not sure that’s-”

A loud crash came from the kitchen and Raph was on his feet in a moment, making his way over to the doorway to peer inside. Massy hopped up, following the large turtle. He managed to squeeze his way past Raph in order to see what had happened. 

An entire shelf had been knocked over in some kind of struggle, Leonardo was soaked from head to toe. Donnie had him pinned down to the tile with the rainbow flag stick being jabbed into the knot on Leo’s mask. 

“Stop! That one doesn’t fit my aesthetic!” Leo shouted, but Donnie just kept at it. 

“Donnie! Come on, get off him,” Raph instructed as he made his way over. He grabbed Donnie by the shell and hauled them up. But Donnie’s hands gripped Leo’s mask and pulled the slider up as well. 

“Hey! Won’t you- Oh hey, squirt,” 

Leo seemed to focus in on Massy standing in the doorway. The preteen started to laugh, watching the awkward display that the older turtles had found themselves in. Leo reached up and pinched Donnie’s hand, who released their grasp with a squawk. 

“Leo, come help me clean this up!” Donnie shouted, but Leo rolled out of Raph’s grasp and scooped Massy up into his arms. 

“Sorry, gentleman. I have favorite duties to attend to.” Leo spoke, sticking his tongue out. Massy laughed more, laying his head on Leo’s shoulder as the hero made his way to the dojo. 

Massy seemed to perk up more, he always enjoyed watching Leo train. He wanted to be a ninja too, but he was always told he was too young. It felt ridiculous, especially knowing that he was currently the same age Mikey was when he started fighting. 

But as they made it to the dojo, Leo set Massy down on one of the mats and moved to sit next to him. The slider sat cross legged, hands folded in his lap as his eyes closed and-

“Nooo, wait. Meditating is so lame, come on, slice something,” Massy complained, falling dramatically back onto the mat. 

Leo laughed, peeking one eye open to look down at Massy.

“Meditating is an excellent way to find yourself, troublemaker. It centers you, keeps you focused. I would argue that it’s actually the coolest form of training that we were taught by our father.” Leo noted, straightening his back some. 

“You’re just feeling lazy,”

“That’s irrelevant.”

Massy huffed, moving to sit cross legged next to Leo, hands folded in his own lap. He looked over Leo for just a moment before letting his eyes close as well. 

But he didn’t see anything. No, he had no idea how to find himself. He had no idea where he was. Everything still felt like a confusing whirlpool of different words and phrases that didn’t feel right at all. 

But maybe starting out with sexuality wasn’t the best way to start. Afterall, how can you determine who you like if you don’t even know who you are yet?

“.. How did you know you were trans?” Massy asked the quiet of the room. 

“Mostly clerical error,” 

“Leo..”

“Okay! Okay. It just.. Is a feeling. You feel a certain way in your heart and sometimes it matches your sex and sometimes it doesn’t. For me, it didn’t match. I do not match biology.. But I am still me. And there is nothing that is going to change me.” Leo explained. 

Massy opened his eyes to find the older turtle smiling down at him. Massy tries to examine himself in that light. 

“I.. Don’t know if I match.” Massy responded. His body wasn’t particularly uncomfortable, not in the way he knew Leo to complain sometimes. But, it did feel like he was struggling to fit into it. Pieces didn’t always line up in his puzzle. Like he was trying to fit two separate pictures together. It just.. Didn’t seem to make sense to him. 

Leo grinned, lightly smacking the kid on the shell before pulling out the all too familiar blue, pink, and white flag. Massy let the flag fall into his hands and he stared at it, eyebrows coming together. 

“Then congratulations, you’re trans,” Leo spoke definitively before pulling out his sword and swinging a circle around Massy. “Now get out of here, you’re disturbing my meditation,” 

Leo’s laugh echoed as Massy fell through the portal and the kid tucked himself into his shell. He tumbled against a hard floor, skidding against it for a moment before poking his head back out. Everything was purple and dark, leading Massy to know exactly where he had landed. 

He pushed himself up to his feet and stared at the flag still in his hands. Definition wise, Leo had to be right. If he wasn’t cis, he was trans. In some way, shape or form, because he didn’t identify fully with being a boy. Right? Right??? Massy didn’t know. And he dropped the flag to the floor as he started to walk his way to where he could hear the clacking of a keyboard and angered mumblings. 

“This is why I hate this month, there is no such thing as subtlety anymore…” Donnie muttered from their spot in their chair, lounged back and glaring at their large screen. 

Massy paused for a moment, but then glanced back at the flag that was almost consumed by darkness. He should pick it up, lest Leo get blamed for something he didn’t do. 

“Masaccio, I see you’ve been deposited in my lair,”

Massy turned back to Donnie but the purple turtle’s eyes were still glued to the screen. Massy forwent the flag and made his way over to the desk, grabbing the smaller chair that he had helped design personally for himself.

“Leo said I was ruining his focus,”

“Ha. That’s rich. I don’t believe that he’s focused ever a day in his life.” Donnie mocked before finally tearing their eyes from the screen to lock onto Massy. 

“Is there anything you need my help with?”

Massy stared at him for a long moment, rocking in the chair before he nodded his head. Donnie’s eyebrows shot up for a moment but they turned themselves to face Massy, gesturing for him to continue. 

“.. I don’t know who I am. I don’t know who I like, I don’t even know if I actually like people,” Massy rambled out, crossing his arms over his chest. And Donnie seemed mostly uninterested with the concept at hand. 

“Sexuality is.. Complicated. But for the most part, irrelevant. You will find someone you want to click with. I mean, look at me. I don’t find many people fascinating. But, I have had a very select number of partners. Maybe, you just want to connect with someone before you like them. There’s no shame in being demi.” Donnie instructed, holding one of their fingers up. 

“So.. I could just like people I’m attached to?” Massy asked, cocking his head to the side. 

“Absolutely! After all, isn’t that what any relationship is? You don’t particularly care for anyone, but then you get to know them and they become important to you. That’s how that works.” Donnie waved their hand around, and Massy extended his legs out to rest them on Donnie’s armchair. 

“Is.. Is that your stance on gender too?” Massy asked.

“For the most part? Yeah. Obviously, every being is different and one’s gender won’t fit the mold for other people’s gender. It’s statistically impossible. But, at the end of the day, being one hundred percent masculine or feminine is.. Not possible. You can definitely lean, and most people do. That’s how you form the gender binary. But it’s a scale between the two ends and sometimes you find yourself not even on the scale. I actually made this chart that describes gender as more a plane than a spectrum if you want to see-”

“No thanks! I uh.. I think I get the picture,” Massy cut them off as he pulled his legs back and moved to stand up from his chair. The young turtle quickly pushed his chair in, starting to walk away from the genius with his head still spiraling. 

“Sure! Just leave before I can go on my detailed exploration of gender and society!” Donnie called after the younger turtle. 

Massy just picked up his pace, starting the trek back to his room to attempt to process all that he just learned in such a short timespan. His hands came up to his head as if that would stabilize anything, but it wasn’t much help. 

“Hey Massy- Massy?”

Massy kept walking to his room, not caring much that Mikey had just gotten home and was on his heel. 

“Hey, kid, what’s going on with you?” Mikey asked, but their voice was laced with far more concern than it was joy. Massy whined as he collapsed onto his bed, grabbing his blanket to wrap himself up with. 

Mikey was instantly concerned as he moved closer to sit on Massy’s bed. 

“Come here, kiddo. Tell me all about it,” Mikey offered, holding his arms out. Massy peeked out from his blanket hiding spot, tears already filling his eyes. But he moved quickly, pressing himself into Mikey’s side and letting the orange turtle’s arms wrap around him. 

“What’s wrong, hun? Did something happen?” Mikey asked.

“I.. I tried to figure myself out so I could actually participate in pride this year. You guys have so much fun and I.. I just don’t know myself. I want to know myself but I don’t. Raph says that I’m likely bisexual or pansexual because I don’t have a preference between genders. Leo says that I’m trans because I don’t feel like my sex matches me fully. Donnie says that I could be demisexual if I don’t have a preference but then he also said that gender is-”

“Gender is a plane?”

“YES! And now I don’t know! Because nothing feels right, but nothing…” Massy chokes on his tears for a moment, pressing his face into Mikey’s plastron as the older turtle rubs his shell. 

“Oh, baby.. It doesn’t matter what or who you are,” Mikey offers, pressing a light kiss to the top of Massy’s head. The darker turtle looks up at him, “How does it not?”

“Well, first of all, you’re thirteen. You aren’t supposed to know who you are yet. You haven’t lived enough yet. Sure, people figure themselves out at any age. But there is absolutely no shame in not knowing anything. You have an entire lifetime,” Mikey offered, wiping away Massy’s tears carefully with his thumb. 

“And? You may never know. You may just like what you like, feel how you feel. Labels are an easy way to describe and connect to others, but they aren’t required for you to feel prideful and proud of who you are. You are so many wonderful thing, Masaccio, you don’t have to put a label on it,” 

Massy stared up at Mikey and he nodded slowly, and finally, that felt right. 

“I don’t need a label,” Massy states, and his voice is filled with more confidence than it had been before. 

“You don’t need a label,” Mikey responds. 

Massy, filled with relief, turns to deadweight in Mikey’s arms. He huffed softly, cuddling into his side while Mikey kept rubbing his shell. 

“I would still enjoy a pride flag…” Massy muttered, which caused Mikey to laugh.

“Luckily, you have one,”

By the end of the day, Massy had his own little flag hanging in the living room with all the others. This one was lighter, but it was perfect. 

Green, white, blue, and orange. 

Massy felt it very fitting.

[fatalism-and-villainy]

☕️ talk to me about your svsss thoughts?

Oh man, SVSSS. I will say it’s probably my least favourite of the MXTX canon, but it is extremely fun. Honestly, the aspect of it that had the biggest impact on me was all the parodic commentary on webnovel fandom and its forum dramas. Like that first Airplane chapter with the long comment thread on PIDW just had me cackling from the accuracy of it (especially the whole “if you don’t like it then WHY DON’T YOU WRITE YOUR OWN, let’s see if you could do it better” “I don’t need to be able to do it to know it sucks” exchange, like wow, you broke every argument in the comments down to its bare essentials). All the snarky (self-)deprecating commentary in the narration on tropes and genre expectations and the constructed nature of fiction were delightful. (Have I ever mentioned that I have a deep and abiding affection for MXTX as a personality? Because I really do.) 

I also love the fact that so much of it is a commentary on certain fandom attitudes - like Shen Yuan is very much the kind of entitled fan who harasses creators (the fact that Shang Qinghua has nightmares about Shen Yuan yelling at him about his writing is funny, but also uhhh... telling), but there’s also a lot of pushback against simplistic moral impulses on the part of fandom. The subplot about Shen Jiu’s backstory (which Shang Qinghua omitted because readers wanted him to be a straightforward villain) is VERY much a statement about how circumstances influence behaviour (and fandom’s reluctance to contend with that, imo). Same with how Shen Qingqiu’s perception of Luo Binghe is handled - he’s so fixated on the future of Luo Binghe’s character arc (although for understandable self-preservation reasons) that he doesn’t realize how much he’s altered Luo Binghe’s character by treating him better, and that character isn’t deterministic and set in stone. As I’ve mentioned, I love the fact that the effect of his presence on Luo Binghe is very much in the usual MXTX vein of “the presence of absence of attention and care make a drastic difference in someone’s character,” except in this case there’s an added layer of “and sometimes it will cause their gay awakening.”

Also, the whole setup in which this extremely straight hypermasculine genre would be better and deeper if it were gay? MASSIVE POWER MOVE. Especially with the presence of that girl in the aforementioned PIDW forum shyly being like “uhm I wrote some SQQ/LBH slash if anyone wants to read?” This book is truly a vindication for slash fangirls and villain lovers everywhere. 

I also loved both the leads. Shen Qingqiu is delightful as a nerdy, extremely online personality who unwittingly ends up as a curmudgeonly but beloved mentor to a bunch of teenagers. The way the disciples at Qing Jing Peak grow attached to him with him barely being aware of it was one of my favourite parts and I really wish there had been more focus on it! The scene with both Ning Yingying AND Ming Fan crying after he’s come back to life is extremely sweet. Luo Binghe is also very very good... putting on a tough and cool persona when he’s actually a massive emotional mess who’s desperate for affection and validation. (He’s SO eager to please during his disciple days. “Do you like my cooking? Do you? Do you??? Please let me do this for you every day pls pls pls.”) And he gets jerked around so much! You have to feel for him!  

That said, while I do love the two main characters, the central romance doesn’t really land for me. I really do like Luo Binghe’s adolescent crush on Shen Qingqiu, and him having his gay awakening through the first authority figure to ever be nice to him. And I also like the “omg so cool!!” response to Luo Binghe-the-character that Shen Yuan has that could totally be sublimated gay feelings (@coldwind-shiningstars raised the possibility that he had a crush on Luo Binghe while he was reading the book, which I could see). But the way they actually come together in-story.... there’s a lot of Shen Qingqiu capitulating to what Luo Binghe wants and appeasing him (including in the novel’s climax!) without much regard for what he himself wants and is comfortable with, and it’s uncomfy for me. You can convince him that he has worth and that you’re not going to abandon him while also setting boundaries with him, you know? 

And Shen Qingqiu’s internalized homophobia runs so deep that after awhile his freak-out responses stop being funny and just start being sad. Wei Wuxian’s closetedness in MDZS is at least expressed through him taking genuine joy in plausible deniability flirting with Lan Wangji. Shen Qingqiu on the other hand is just grossed out by Luo Binghe’s feelings for him so much of the time. The extras suggest that he is genuinely attracted to and attached to him, but is just suuuuper repressed, but that being the case, I just come away feeling as if he’s not remotely ready for a relationship at all until he’s worked himself out more. And I kind of want Luo Binghe to just try dating other people.... given the amount of women who were swooning over him, there’s got to be a bunch of potential boyfriends in this world for him as well. He could even have more than one at once (like, he was the protagonist of a harem novel! why’s he gotta become monogamous just because he’s gay now? XD)

So yeah, I loved the main characters but didn’t love the love story. And the setting and plot felt pretty empty for me - I had trouble getting attached to any of the characters or potential side pairings. The one exception to this is Shang Qinghua/Mobei-jun, which is delightful for its “scary demon falls for the first person to ever tell him off” feature, but wasn’t integrated into the story well enough for me to feel strong emotions about it - it’s relegated to extras, and that it feels at a thematic remove from the rest of the story. That is to say, obviously Shang Qinghua being gay and not being able to express that in his writing choices is thematically central to the story (which makes the relegated-to-extras backstory for him unfortunate), but the specifics of his relationship to Mobei-jun don’t feel to me to parallel or offer commentary on the central relationship. Though it’s entirely possible that I’ve missed something there and just haven’t read the right meta yet. 

So, overall - it has a lot of individual aspects that I really like, it’s very funny in a lot of places, and I really appreciate what it’s doing thematically and with its meta aspects, but as a whole, it’s not entirely satisfying to me. 

[leedonly-blog]

oneus members as your classmate [imagine]

kim youngjo (ravn)

good guy - follows school's rules: wears id and proper uniform everyday, has proper haircut. he does not ditch classes.

fashionista - he has jaw-dropping fashion sense.

leader - always nominates himself as a responsible leader.

how did your relationship unfold?

he assigned you as his assistant leader because he trusts you more than he trusts people.

you admire not just his perfect looks but his good attitude as well. he's a warm guy who accepts opinions and confessions without getting upset.

he protects you like a knight-and-shining armor. your relationship with each other seems vague. although you confessed to him, he's still treating you as his reliable friend.

　　　　　　　　༄ +₊

lee gunmin / lee seoho

sunshine - source of happiness inside your classroom comes from him. he just smiles and cheering up his classmates whenever they are feeling down.

prankster - despite his positive vibes. he's naughty and likes to joke around.

extrovert - defines himself as social butterfly.

how did your relationship unfold?

he tried to befriend you by the time you laughed at his corny jokes.

you started to feel uncomfortable being with him as his pranking continues in an offending manner.

he felt sorry to his mistakes and he promised that he will never prank anyone. the next thing you knew, you've fallen in love with him but unfortunately, seoho was unaware of that.

　　　　　　　　༄ +₊

kim geonhak (leedo)

popular (1/2) - his visuals made almost all of the girls swoon over him. his popularity is no joke

shy - does embarassing things and ending up loathing them. he barely talks to strangers oof.

strong man - broad shoulders, stunning body build, biceps and big hands that captivated all humans

how did your relationship unfold?

a fangirl asked you to deliver valentine gifts for him (since you two are classmates) in exchange of free foods for lunch. however, leedo rejected all of them and told the fangirl to stop bothering him. he wanted to make you his.

you refused him many times because realizing that he's popular with almost-perfect visuals kill your braincells one by one. he blackmailed you about your cheating incident while taking up the quiz in physics. "if you refuse one more time. i'm going to spread out your horrible secrets," leedo treathened.

you decided to keep distances away and not talking to him. in your perspective, it was the only way to live peacefully.

as the time goes by, you accepted his offer being his officially fake girlfriend.

　　　　　　　　༄ +₊

lee keonhee

meme material (1/2) - he is always targeted by evil photographers/classmates who are making fun of his meme faces

food addict - wants to buy the whole canteen itself

extra - he likes to joke around (ft. seoho)

how did your relationship unfold?

because you pity him, you're protecting him from those malicious students who destroy his reputation inside the school.

he confessed to you one day, thankful of what you've done to him.

you're already aware of his feelings as he started to court you with effort and patience.

　　　　　　　　༄ +₊

yeo hwanwoong

smol - never underestimate him being short because this shortie is a cutie

meme (2/2) - sort of look like a sloth. he and keonhee are living soulmates.

dancer - he joined a lot of dance contests out there with his sharp and powerful moves

how did your relationship unfold?

you really want to dance but you just couldn't. hwanwoong noticed you were struggling so he taught you some basic dance moves.

hwanwoong was slowly getting closer to you but you were slowly staying away either because your girl bestfriend likes him. you promised that you'll help her no matter what happens.

you realized that hiding your feelings towards hwanwoong hurts you more when your bestfriend makes a move. until she finally recognized your feelings. she even called you a "traitor" ; admitted that she just used you to get him.

hwanwoong became anxious for not telling you what he truly felt towards you. he comforted you by hugging you tightly and whispering sweet nothings

　　　　　　　　༄ +₊

son dongju (xion)

cutie-patootie - acting cute everytime, everywhere. no one can resist his cuteness.

popular (2/2) - girls in your classroom (also in the campus) can't help but to stalk him like crazy

nerdy + rude - loves to carry out books. he is sometimes rude to your classmates, including you.

how did your relationship unfold?

xion isn't that type of guy you actually want to go out with. he annoys you day by day even though you're not even doing any bad things to him. he often switch moods from cutie-patootie to savage guy who wants to stab you directly using a sharp knife.

xion doesn't like being a center of attention, but he likes getting your attention though.

you hated him since first day of school. you are honestly ready to do everything against him: punching his whole body hard, slapping his face hard, kicking his butt hard but how about falling in love? you never thought that a cutie-savage guy would leave a big impact in your life.

　　　　　　　　༄ +₊

note:

i'm sorry for any typo and grammatical errors. i'll edit them soon.

this is my first time doing imagines hell yeah bc i'm bored lolol

remember that each member has an individual (?) route. all imagines of the members are not occurring at the same time.

i hope you enjoy reading! dedicated to my co-moonies/to moons ♡

[punkscowardschampions]

Sick Kids Group Chat

sonmychest: 🤗 tigerbalm: 👋🧡 tigerbalm: it's been so long! 🙀 how are you?? sonmychest: I know! I suck sonmychest: don't want to be the youtuber spending ten minutes apologizing for not being here though sonmychest: I'm doing pretty good right now, how are you? 😚 tigerbalm: it's a bad day, not a bad life...is what I would caption if I was an instagram influencer or something 😸😸 brainpain: 🦸 speaking for me when I haven't streamed in days LOL sonmychest: 🤭🤭 sonmychest: at least we have reasons for being that #extra that aren't the vague notion of NEEDING a break from taking pictures of our ☕ brainpain: I do spend LOTS of time in a dark room but not for 📸 no flash photography PLEASE 😵 inandout: your feed just updated, Lo brainpain: 👮🚓🚨 sonmychest: stalking or hacking? sonmychest: either way I might need those expertise brainpain: I had a 🌈✨🧁 FIGHT ME, Zachary tigerbalm: it is pretty tbh inandout: friend request, but it's not as if I don't have zero hacking or stalking skills sonmychest: wait, what happened to the anonymity rules??? sonmychest: where's @gotspoons and what have you done with her?! inandout: you missed the overthrowing of a tyrant inandout: not really, but the rule book is gone gotspoons: going to pretend I was summoned by mention, not notification gotspoons: say how you really feel, Zach! 😔 inandout: I said not really, rowboat gotspoons: I have 👀 and 👂 everywhere so you better be nice 😏🤭 gotspoons: but no, hi again, @sonmychest! we missed you! gotspoons: it seemed the whole no names no real life details thing was more of a hindrance than a help to the whole goal of this group, so we came to the conclusion by majority, and the higher ups were all okay with it, providing everyone under a certain age got their parents to sign off and we all used the same common sense we use on other areas of the web gotspoons: so feel free to introduce yourself by real name if you would like, but it's not necessary if you would not 😊 gotspoons: reintroduce, I should say tigerbalm: we shared selfies & everyone was 😻😻😻 brainpain: learned what a sex god @tooexhaustedtolivevicariously aka Rich is sonmychest: 😱😱😱 sonmychest: can't believe I've missed so much sonmychest: need to get better at socialization, my mammy is right 😂 brainpain: an unrivalled love story brainpain: not that he's here to back me up on that inandout: Paris and Helen who? Romeo and Juliet who? Anne Boleyn and Henry VIII who? tigerbalm: wait, those are all 💔😿!! brainpain: he's being a brainpain: insert a swear word of your choice sonmychest: *stage whispers* it's not jealousy though, is it? sonmychest: clearly, fill me in on all the nuances whilst I frantically try to find a picture of myself that's even one 😻 brainpain: he's a 👶 you already know brainpain: but Rich will be leaving me for some uni girl 🤓 so he's not wrong about the doomed part sonmychest: face that launched a thousand ships is a really great insta bio though sonmychest: right, so we have Rich, Zach...who else? gotspoons: Rosie here 🤗 brainpain: Lauren tigerbalm: & me, Robyn inandout: the new girl who started the revolution is Zelda inandout: @ihatemyguts sonmychest: no way sonmychest: a fellow nerd, or at least child-of-a-nerd sonmychest: 'cos I'm Kara and I don't totally hate this photo [selfie] tigerbalm: 😻😻 tigerbalm: you look so like I imagined you, except I thought maybe you'd be 👼 tigerbalm: should we all send new pics? brainpain: [does because any excuse] brainpain: they'll be buried tigerbalm: [a selfie that's even shyer than the first one she sent] gotspoons: [the same photo as before] inandout: if I must [some ridiculous selfie] tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: This is a nice welcome back tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and I've only been to physio brainpain: NOT ready for another selfie drop from you, boy brainpain: I'll be on my fainting couch brainpain: also hi tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Perhaps I should save your 🦴s and my pride when poor Kara, hello again btw, has to pretend to swoon too brainpain: 🦸 has great taste brainpain: we all love a shy boy tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: My teachers undoubtedly wish I were shy, make their lives a lot easier tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: [a photo] here we are anyway, I hope you found a soft surface suitable for you, Lauren brainpain: ☁ tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Ah, so you're the 👼 brainpain: LMAO 😈 brainpain: but you're looking angelic sir sonmychest: how are you ALL so cute sonmychest: this keeps happening, omg tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👼 face hides a multitude of 😈 sins apparently inandout: but reading between the lines, who else is making you swoon/stalk/hack inandout: that's my question tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Well spotted, Zachary 🔎 sonmychest: 🙈 ugh, I'm so embarrassing sonmychest: but we can pretend it's all spilling out now because I played it SO cool in the actual conversation, right 😬😅 inandout: that's the official story, everyone'll confirm sonmychest: thanks, I need the backup so I can also pretend I have lots of friends and a normal social life gotspoons: we are your friends, Kara! gotspoons: though are normal is different from most tigerbalm: & you're coming to my birthday party & even though you have to stand on the other side of the room to Zach, it's still social tigerbalm: OH & we were talking about potentially meeting up!! All of us brainpain: keep it 6ft, children inandout: I'll be in the garden with my date, you can have the indoors with yours inandout: collectively, because we're all speed dating here now inandout: proud of you for picking someone outside this circle sonmychest: GAH so much exciting information today!!! sonmychest: 😁 sonmychest: obviously, I figured no one needed the drama of me falling for you, Zach sonmychest: 💀 not cute inandout: there's already a book and film about it, the chance has been thoroughly missed brainpain: Ignore him, Zelda's nothing but thrilled to find someone else in her age bracket brainpain: 👶👶 brainpain: hit us with your 💞 please sonmychest: well, I didn't just re-log into this chat today, I went on all my old forums because well, boredom, we can all relate, right? sonmychest: what I thought would be the least promising one was the sonmychest: not a dating site, I'm not 100 but you know the kind sonmychest: anyway, the CUTEST boy starts talking to me and he's also really funny and nice ??? tigerbalm: OMG! Did you swap selfies there too? sonmychest: not yet sonmychest: because he sounds so 😻😻 sonmychest: and he wants to talk to me again and he might not if we do tigerbalm: you're 😻😻😻 Kara brainpain: what she said brainpain: + if he's as funny, nice, all of that, as you said brainpain: I doubt he's a shallow jerk inandout: are you a good judge of character or not? inandout: what it comes down to sonmychest: oh, thank you guys! sonmychest: I don't know sonmychest: I think I am sonmychest: he didn't immediately come out with weird requests or weird 📸 of his own and that's a massive start on that site, I was honestly there to 🗑 my account but he changed my mind brainpain: I'll PM you the spooky stories my sister sends me about guys, it'll make you feel better brainpain: you'd know if he was one sonmychest: 🤭 do, can compare notes sonmychest: we honestly just talked about totally normal, nerdy things, it wasn't even a little sketch brainpain: ✉️ + 100000000s brainpain: hold up tigerbalm: that sounds 🧡 & so does this boy tigerbalm: awwhhh sonmychest: [sends the description he sent her slow your roll gal lol] sonmychest: assuming he isn't the archetypal internet weirdo from the 90s scare tactics tigerbalm: WOW inandout: tall, dark and handsome inandout: original sonmychest: okay, I know that covers a lot of bases sonmychest: but someone has to be brainpain: continuing to ignore you, Zach sonmychest: I get it though sonmychest: it's not like I even care what he looks like though, so even if the pics aren't exactly that description brainpain: not every man can be my Rich but doesn't make them 👹/🤡/👻/👽/👥 brainpain: trust your gut, it's not that body part that's failing you tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 👹 is a solid representation but the hair needs to be longer tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: at the risk of making myself or Zachary appear like overly protective boys, I think as long as you're as sensible as you surely are with this, then there's no harm in the back and forth tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: so if you were going to meet this person IRL, he could perhaps come to the group meet-up, that would be a good way to do it? brainpain: *🧝🏻 that's what needs to be said about your representation tigerbalm: Great idea, Rich! 😺 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: when the beard comes in I'll look more Gimli than Elrond but I'll take the compliment 👽 babe from outerspace brainpain: who's watching the LoTRs with me? gotspoons: count me out, I'm the worst film buddy ever 😴 ihatemyguts: how many naps could you have in 20hr28mins assuming we're watching everything extended release 'cos duh ihatemyguts: 🥳 go hard or go home 🥳 brainpain: that's you in ihatemyguts: of course ihatemyguts: long since stopped asking for a pause every time I gotta 💩 ihatemyguts: adept at catching up with the plot is a life skill I didn't expect to gain like this but 🙌 gotspoons: 😅 I could do the whole 20hr28mins and that not be a record for how many hours I've slept consecutively brainpain: I'll act it out for you, I can get the 🧝🏼🏹 costume together during the pauses brainpain: dressing up box runneth over sonmychest: 🙋 dibs Arwen sonmychest: my old Katniss cosplay can be repurposed with some bedsheets and a 👸 vibe to it brainpain: that makes Rich your daddy 👀 you, babe sonmychest: 😖😳 nooooooooooo brainpain: I'll be Galadriel if only so I can speak to my man telepathically 💕 brainpain: swerving off book for that love connection ihatemyguts: obviously eye of sauron ihatemyguts: jokes write themselves inandout: hair of a hobbit wig so likewise inandout: and you know, a jew, gonna be the one to handle the 💎 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: How hairy are your feet, a pickup line that doesn't get thrown about enough inandout: not sending you free feet pics inandout: PM for prices though tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Respect the hustle, Zachary tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: but I have clearly pledged myself and my allegiance to an e-girl already 🧝🏼🏹 brainpain: changed my Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim name to Galadriel for you, Richard, you've officially made me basic brainpain: will cite it in the divorce tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as long as I can proudly produce said divorce to every mouthbreather that calls me a freak, I am okay with that tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: devastated, naturally 💔 but okay brainpain: hit me up for multiple re-marriages at your convenience, I like that for us tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: Make a solid livestream 👰💒🤵 gotspoons: I'll get officiated! tigerbalm: imagine if any of us actually did get together cos of this forum gotspoons: You never know, Robyn gotspoons: it would be so adorable 😊 tigerbalm: Kara is giving me hope that online dating doesn't have to be a minefield sonmychest: don't give up yet! sonmychest: you're so lovely, a total catch tigerbalm: there still isn't a blushing 😸 emoji & I NEED it ihatemyguts: a travesty ihatemyguts: who do we need to @ for that brainpain: @fibrofog brainpain: he was a BIG DEAL ihatemyguts: 😏 hoping he comes back and I can 👰💒🤵 him obvs brainpain: 🔺 between me/him/Rich was prime in my life ihatemyguts: glory dayz brainpain: if he doesn't show up to stop our first wedding ihatemyguts: Zach won't even properly date me until we're confirmed #foreveralone at 18 inandout: you don't call this properly dating? inandout: @Kara you've got yourself a hater before your romance has fully taken off ihatemyguts: oi, don't drag me in to your 🧂 behaviour ihatemyguts: I'm very nice, I swear inandout: that's just how I taste inandout: she knows brainpain: if I didn't know my CF facts I'd be calling for a ban brainpain: that sounds filthy sonmychest: first declaring Rich my daddy, now 👅 Zach 😲😲😲 sonmychest: I'm also quite nice but not that kind of nice, I 🤞 tigerbalm: I don't think I wanna know.... inandout: But I'll tell you inandout: when we sweat, we lose too much salt, one of our many flaws inandout: on a hot day, you could lick us and taste it, if we like you enough to let you sonmychest: maybe that can be enough of a selling point? sonmychest: if crush boy talks to me again and it invariably comes up inandout: he might get to see it crystallise on your skin, not 💎 or ✨ but hey sonmychest: such a sexy condition, when you leave out all the mucus inandout: ZZ top is feeling it, she wants to properly date me ihatemyguts: 🧂 is a flavour I can enjoy pretty unrestricted ihatemyguts: let me have some pleasure tigerbalm: do the normies flirt like this too? tigerbalm: Kara you'll have to tell us, when you go further undercover ihatemyguts: don't know how lucky you are to have that pickup line in your back pocket ihatemyguts: just add tequila and a lemon and you've got a good time sonmychest: I'll 100% report back, providing he doesn't go 👻 brainpain: you need a drink when a boy lovingly strokes your hair only to feel the dent in your 💀 sonmychest: but also, to work out if your amazing hair is real or nah brainpain: I have too many split ends to be asked if it's a wig sonmychest: I ✂ my own sonmychest: and not often enough 😅 brainpain: don't reach for the bleach cos Robbie sees you as a blonde, there's my sisterly/old lady advice sonmychest: oh God, with these brows? sonmychest: I can swear I won't do that, along with meet up with internet randos alone brainpain: I'd volunteer to come along but I don't do disappearing into the background brainpain: would wear a trenchcoat for the right 💸💸 gotspoons: Normies definitely TRY to use our disabilities as a way to flirt with us, with varying success gotspoons: the amount of time I spend in bed is nothing to be 😏 about, honestly gotspoons: even if I was also chiming in to confirm blondes do have more fun, when they've had all their vitamins, a perfect amount of sleep, the stars have aligned JUST right... 🤭 tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: as resident ♿ user, they most ask if IT 'works', which is a bizarre level of care for people who aren't concerned about how me getting into their establishment really 'works' tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: and, my dear, you are a terrible third wheel tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: 🔻 suits you better than obscurity 😎 brainpain: but I am a fun time with the TBI having increased the impulsiveness + removing the few inhibitions I did have 😉 brainpain: inappropriate sexual activity is a listed symptom 🤞 boys ihatemyguts: definitely a case of 'okay when I point it out to embolden myself, creepy if you do it' ihatemyguts: think some normies point out their flaws to be endearing but idk, is low-key a disability superpower guys, + 1 for us brainpain: like, what does that mean? Inappropriate for who? Answers on a ✉️ please ihatemyguts: could range from, science, you're being a prude to calling you a master criminal on the low brainpain: so many of my symptoms could describe anyone in their teens or early 20s brainpain: Rich, write a smart boy uni essay on it tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: depending on the bit that gets damaged, could be the same part that isn't yet fully developed in young people tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: checks out 🧠 brainpain: you're SO clever brainpain: you'll be fighting off more than one 🤓 girl tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: I'm not sure about that, on either count tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: though the chair is a useful battering ram when it needs to be brainpain: I'm into it tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: then you can hitch a ride, of course brainpain: reserved™ tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: the parking is unparalleled brainpain: not allowed to drive, you are my transport now, no pressure gotspoons: Me either, who can? gotspoons: need to work out the carpool situation brainpain: my housemate will, she owes me 10000s of favours inandout: + my parents tigerbalm: mine too but they're a lot to inflict upon anyone sonmychest: ^^hard same tigerbalm: maybe we get ourselves there unless someone can't? tigerbalm: & those people speak up sonmychest: That makes sense to me brainpain: ok, is there anyone who needs a lift? ihatemyguts: I'm good tooexhaustedtolivevicariously: likewise gotspoons: I'll make a permanent post where people can register interest in the meet-up, as well as need for a lift gotspoons: so anyone who can offer a lift, can respond there too, sound good guys? 😊 inandout: cool inandout: very un-tyrant like gotspoons: thank you, Zach 😏

[minyoonkeeks]

Pairing:Jin x Reader

Word Count: 4k

Summary: It was one thing to love him in secret, but when you think he might like you back it changes everything. (90% Fluff, 7% Angst, 3% I don't know what this is)

Warnings: None really, there is 1 mention of throwing up for like a second and a few mentioning anxiety but nothing serious

A/N: This is the first fic I've ever decided to write. I hope it resembles him a bit, but it was fun writing. I don't know if I'll continue either, I just hope I did Jin some justice (:

---

Becoming his friend always felt natural, kind of like mac meeting its cheese, or peanut butter finding its jelly. He was sweet, funny, goofy Seokjin. 2 years younger, but no one could ever tell the difference. He was smart, where it counted. He hated bugs, was extra competitive, and loved marvel as much as you. That made your friendship fun. You would chill in his apartment, play endless games of super smash, and compare recipes whenever you found something new you'd want to try. Because you came from different social groups, it seemed odd at first to your friends. They laughed when they couldn't picture it being real.

"No way _____! Do both of you just have pout monologues? Because I would hate to be in the middle of that blab fest!" Hobi joked as he pictures both of you endlessly going off on each other. You both have certain quirks and apparently over talking was one of them. The more you guys interacted when you were all together, the more your friends didn't believe it.

It wasn't until the first time you had all gone to the movies together as a group. Seokjin sat next to you and you could have sworn all the girls gave the biggest groan, making you turn beet red and Seokjin laugh awkwardly. But once all of your friends realised that's exactly what it was, a friendship, they were quick to stand up for it, because there wasn't anything more. Even when your girlfriends started noticing him.

Sometimes, a lot of times, being his friend was hard. He was a 10 everywhere he'd go, regardless of how nerdy he came off when he spoke. When he wore his dumb round glasses around his beautiful face girls would swoon saying that he looked like a lawyer. Sure, he'd never win with his dumb logic, you thought.

When he would have to attend a fancy dinner in slacks and the same blue button up with white stripes on the sleeve citing that it made him look longer even though you swore he was a whole nother you taller. "Look, you just have to go with me, no one else is fun, and they won't bug me if you go instead." He would insist, telling you his parents didn't mind if it was you going instead of another date. That would sting, you were never the date.

When he'd sit and play guitar to pass the time between picking you up from work and your coworkers would stare out the window and wonder when he would notice them. "How do you even function with him, ______? You clearly have the worst taste in guys if you don't find him attractive" one of them would say. 

"Yeah, sure, if you think gumby limbs are attractive." You'd scoff back, even though deep down you knew he was. Those were the most annoying times. Being Kim Seokjin's friend was definitely not easy.

"Hey, hurry up, we'll miss the next screening of Thor and I don't want to miss the credits!" Jin yelled from the lobby, making everyone turn and glare at how loud he was being, at least until they saw his face and proceeded to gawk at him.

"I know, I know, nerd. I don't get how you can watch this for the 5th time in theaters. Like you have a huge TV at home, why rewatch it here?" You quipped grabbing the popcorn from the attendant who just glared at you for calling Jin something other than Worldwide Handsome.

"I already told you, there's nothing like rewatching it with people who get it. And you know you get it or else you wouldn't have come with me anyway" he teased, making that pout that makes your heart flutter a little too much.

Those were most days with Seokjin and sometimes you couldn't take the stares from everyone. The ones that said "Hey why is that short girl hanging out with Jin all the time? He looks like he's babysitting." "Isn't it her though? She's the delusional one, he's way too good to cut her off though, I bet it's pity." You would overhear. You get it. It wasn't ideal for some tall, gorgeous albeit weird man to be hanging out with you of all people, but Jin didn't care because you were friends... friends. That's it.

And yeah, it hurt sometimes, seeing him go on dates, or staying at his apartment when he would tell you to wait for him, even though he was out with a girl 10 times prettier, he always came back alone. Always came back to you.

You had become a confidante for him. Someone who knew a little more, but didn't judge no matter what he did. You were the cool friend, the one everyone could depend on to be there, the one everyone joked to Jin about when they'd tell him to go look after his noona, and you, being as awkward as you were, always played it off when you'd see the pink hue in his cheeks. It never crossed your mind to think any different of him until your regular movie night Wednesday. 

You were binging Lord of the Rings on his couch, in your cookie monster pajamas left over from last time while you sat next to Jin, tired from working all day.

"I guess an office job can wear you out." He chuckled.

"Definitely in more ways than one. My brain can only take so much annoyance from everyone. I just need Aragorn to murder a few orcs and it'll make me feel 10 times better." You said yawning, while Jin just stared at the TV hands on his knees. He seemed out of it for some reason, but your day being as long as it had you didn't want to pry. Sometimes Jin liked silence, and this was definitely one of those times. 

As you watched the elves on screen, bow and arrow shooting towards the dark, you started dozing off on a pillow placed near his lap. You could feel his fingertips rubbing your scalp the way you had mentioned your mom did when you had a hard time sleeping. You could hear him humming a song, your favorite, especially because he had written it for your birthday last year. Things like this made you wish sometimes that people wouldn't joke the way they do. That it wasn't weird for you to be friends, because Jin got you. He knew you were quiet some days, and extra loud others. He knew when you just needed someone to lean on, and you hoped that's what you were to him.

And there in the quiet, as you were almost asleep, you heard him. Three simple words.

"I love you."

It felt surreal and incredibly intimate. But even though you wanted to look up and tell him you loved him too, you froze. Eyes shut, breathing heavy, and panic setting in. You didn't know what to do. You can't tell if he just meant it as a friend. And if he did then you'd lose him, the one person to make you feel like you belong when you really didn't. He kept stroking your head and you told yourself it wasn't a big deal, that you would pretend to sleep, until sleep became real, and in the morning you'd leave just as friends, how it's always been.

When you wake up, you feel really uncomfortable, not being able to get anything out of your head. Over thinking as always, and if this was any other situation, Jin would be the first person you'd tell. But that obviously wasn't possible, so you got up and grabbed you things, said an awkward goodbye and left him cooking pancakes for the both of you.

"Are you sure you don't want any?" He yelled as you were already opening the door to get out of his apartment.

"No it's fine. I forgot I had a meeting to get to and I have to go change and get ready. I'll text you later." You yelled back, trying to sound casual, and not like you were on the verge of throwing up from the anxiety.

You texted him that night and told him you needed to focus on work, that you'd have to go to a few meetings after and you wouldn't be able to meet up. His demeanor never changed, it was always silly Seokjin, always calm,cool, And sweet Seokjin.

JIN: Hey, no worries you're fine. I have to go to a few dinners too, but since you'll be in meetings I'll have to take Hobi or Tae, they're the only ones that like these events anyway.

YOU: Thanks, you should take that girl that you took last time though or you'll end up old and alone. :P

JIN: Maybe, not sure. I'll text you later though, bye!

It was fine right? You would be fine. And he would go out and be his normal charming cool guy self. Just like always. You just needed a moment to get back into the friend zone. And although you'd just lay in bed and lie to him about where you were, you knew eventually you'd have to see him. 

So the day came, well, he more so showed up at your apartment at two am and you couldn't really avoid him. When you opened the door, you don't look up, even though he towers over you. 

"____ what's wrong?"

You can hear the hurt in his voice as he says your name, and yet, you know that if you look up he'll see right through you. So you stare at his feet.

"Nothing just tired from work. What's going on?" You mumble, trying to keep your composure as you look up as him for the first time. He sighs and looks away, scratching the back of his head, trying to figure out what to say next.

"What did I do? Are you mad? I just, I don't know why you're avoiding me, and you tell me everything. So I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong." He tells you quietly, as if he was reassuring himself to you. That your friendship meant more than just a few races of Mario Kart or a permanent plus one that he didn't have to explain more than just, "yeah, she's a friend." And everyone would just get it, no questions asked. 

But suddenly you were in his arms, and you can smell the fresh cotton scent you've become so used to. You can feel his warmth when he presses into you and you can hear his heartbeat pounding into your ears. 

It wasn't like you didn't miss him, you did, too much for a friend though. And how were you going to break it to him. That you, the one who's supposed to be the cool noona, who doesn't mind just being friends, was in too deep? How could you tell him so he just gives you time to be his friend again? Because losing him would be way worse than anything else thrown at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut as you wrap your arms around his torso in response to his sudden hug. It was second nature to do so, but this time it just felt like it was the last time and you wanted to hold on as long as possible. He brushed your hair with his fingers, and swayed side to side because he knew that made you smile. You took a deep breath, not realizing you had been holding it in since he had first leaned against you.

"It's ok, _______, hey I'm fine, you're fine, nothing's wrong. I know you need space sometimes, but I can't have you lying to me about where you are when we tell each other everything. I didn't mean to scare you. Hey, it's ok don't worry." He pats your head and holds you close realizing for the first time that you're crying. You clear your throat and back away from him wiping away your tears with your sweater paws, trying to regain a little sanity.

"I wasn't lying, I'm just ... tired." You tell him sounding coarse, more tired than you knew. "Work is overwhelming and I just needed some time to myself. You know me, I..."

"No, you don't,not from me anyway. You don't and I know because I know you _____, like the back of my hand I know you." Jin said, sounding louder than he meant to. Taking a step back and breathing once before continuing, "But, I get it. I'm not sure why, but I get that you need space from me." He looks down and sighs, making your heart break a little more each time. He pinches the bridge of his nose and you know it's his form of keeping a level head. He does it when he's mad, or worse, when he doesn't want you to see him cry. 

He looks at you one more time and you can tell. He's tired, and his pleading look is something you thought you'd never be the cause of. But, what's worse? Leaving it here, or telling him the truth and watching him walk out, for real this time?

"Just... give me 2 more days. I just need 2 more days and I promise I'll come back. I just... I just need 2..." you stare at him, but with your own pleading look this time, you words soft and sad. For what, you don't know. Maybe the end, realizing, it might be the last time he visits you?

"Ok, ok _______. 2 days, but when you come back to me I want to know. I really do, whatever you give me. I'll accept it, just like you do to me. No judgement, no worries. But please, 2 days, come back." He grabs your hand and rubs along your wrist, a sign of affection he was used to giving you as he goes in for one more hug. This time he holds you a little tighter, maybe even a little longer, before he clears his throat, takes a deep breath and turns to walk to his car.

You stare at him going down the sidewalk and breathe, 2, 3. He's almost gone ______, and then you really need to get your shit together before you really lose him, you chide yourself silently.

Jin turns and waves, nodding once for goodbye while he smiles softly. His cheeks puff a little in the lamplight and you can see a glare. There was no way he was crying was there? You'd only seen him do it once when you dared him to eat your grandma's salsa that had a little too much jalapeño causing him to cry out in pain. The confused look you had, made him stop for a second before getting into his car and leaving towards his home.

Lying in bed, you kept twisting and turning, feeling way too hot to sleep and nothing could fix it. You walk to the kitchen and pull out some food, but it just gives you nausea thinking about what just happened so you settle for the milk and cereal.

Why'd you have to be so suspicious looking? Like you did something you weren't proud of? I mean, being in love with your best friend isn't a crime, it's just, not common, especially between you two. You went over the scenario in your head again, thinking about what you should have done differently so you wouldn't have to tell him the truth. You look at the cereal and look at the almost empty carton of milk before you grab a bowl and throw everything in trying to stuff your face and forget. 

2 days, 2 days, to figure out how to tell Jin that you love him in a way that isn't the same anymore. And it's all his fault, his, and stupid Lord of the Rings, that you promised to never watch again if this didn't fix itself.

To say that you were productive in trying to figure out the best way to tell your best friend that you were in love with him was a complete over exaggeration. You lied in bed, eating snickers, listening to old Taylor Swift songs- that you hated, but Jin thought were cute, and cried into your pillow like a maniac. There were moments of clarity sure, where you'd write, or at least begin to write, Jin a letter of things you wanted to tell him. Maybe give him a pros and cons list of being your friend still, but you always came up short, Both literally and figuratively. It was frustrating because at the end of the day, Jin had everything. He had his best group of friends, he had girls fawning over him, he had a stable family, a bougie apartment, and a great job. All you offered were some really intense matches of Capcom VS Marvel, and we all know, Jungkook would be a much better opponent. But here you were, trying to figure out where you went wrong, why you had to take his confession in any other way than platonically, and therefore ruin your friendship.

Day 2 came by after a sleepless night. You called Jin and told him as cool as you could that you'd be at his house no later than 8, and to be ready with Captain America Winter Soldier because it was the best and he couldn't change your mind.

"Yes, I get it. Bucky is your dude, no need to rub it in. Don't forget though" his voice getting softer, "I miss you so hurry up"

"Yes I know, you can't live without me and life is unbearable because you have no one warm to cuddle to. Although, I should definitely charge for being your own personal teddy bear." You laugh, as calmly as you can, nerves on the other end running towards you throat to make you sound cringier than normal. 

7 o'clock came and you got ready. Jeans and Jins sweatshirt, not that he would care. Most of them ended up in your house and consequently on you because you liked that his long arms made the perfect sweater paws. You put your hair up in a bun and you told yourself once more through the mirror, "Hey, it isn't the end, everything goes, and if he does too, you'll survive". You nodded to yourself and put the best fake smile you could as you walk towards your car and get in, driving to your version of the end of the world.

Jin opens the door and his eyes light up in the best possible way. You always admired that about him, his true emotions always on his sleeve, and today, you hoped that his eyes would stay like this even after your confession. 

"You gonna let me in or do I have to shove my way through?" You smile as best you can, telling yourself, only a few more minutes until it's all over, just breathe, you'll be ok.

"Nah, you can fight me first!" he teased and went in for a hug. You inhaled his scent like it was the only oxygen you could ever need in life. It was odd, he didn't let go, and although you hated the thought of doing it first, you knew you had to, so you rubbed his back a second went in for the kill, tickling him in his ribs when he least expected it.

"Really!? Wait, no stop! STOP IT YOU WIN!!" He yells as he pulls you in for another hug, He breathes you in for a second, relaxing, "I really missed you. This was way too long, and I don't know how I survived without you" he sighed, his shoulders slouching into you, even when he could easily engulf your whole body in his large frame.

You blush pulling back and patting his arm in the friendliest of ways, "Back at you! Let's go watch Bucky be a beast!" Hoping that he didn't see you cringe to yourself as you said it.

What a dork, you murmur to yourself as you sit on his couch, knocking your shoes off one at a time. You sit cross legged on the sofa waiting for the movie to start before Jin turns off the screen.

"Hey" he says as he sits in front of you on the floor in the same exact way as you. You look at him, a sneer in your stare as you grab a pillow and throw it at his head. He chuckles as he turns away trying not to get hit. But as he turns back you can see the look in his eyes. It's the same one he had 2 nights ago, and it's the one you knew would come back today.

"Yeah, what's up" you tell him, tilting your head to the side,hoping he can just see the tension in your face and leave it alone.

He stares at you for a quick second, thoughts floating in his pupils about what move to make next.

He gets on both knees and gets close to your face, startling you frozen in front of him. You can feel him breathing on you, and you don't know why, but the sudden urge to cup his face with your hand comes out snd you're rubbing your thumb across his cheek. 

He holds your hand within his and closes his eyes for a second, and you can feel him shaking slightly. Is he nervous? Does he think you'll leave him on purpose? I guess it's now or never.

"Jin, I.."

"I know, and if it makes you feel better, I do too."

"Lies, you don't even know what I'm going to say. Do you always have to win? I mean I try my hardest and it's not fair when your fingers are longer than ..." and his lips are on yours, effectively shutting you up from saying something even more stupid than you already had.

You look around the room, feeling like it's spinning, holding on for dear life to his sweater collar because if you let go you'd collapse. 

You close your eyes and and scrunch your face trying to burn it into your memory. A kiss, that's all this is, but it's not. It's his kiss. It's dorky, nerdy, handsome, beautiful Jin's kiss and it's perfect, just like him.

You slowly wrap your hands around his neck as he breathes you in, turning slightly so you can be more comfortable and pulls back to smile at your dumbfounded face. You keep your eyes closed hoping it wasn't just a figment of your imagination before you hear him chuckle, his stupid Jin chuckle.

"What? Why are you laughing? Is this funny to you? How?! How rude" you aim to slap his arm, but he catches it and grabs you by the waist pulling you in for a hug.

"Don't ever do that again, you promise? It wasn't fun, and I don't know if I scared you when I told you I love you because I thought you were sleeping, but I really meant it." Jin kisses your collarbone as he nuzzles into your neck.

"I didn't know, I really didn't, but I'm glad I do now. This anxiety was killing me, and literally the only person I could tell was Tae and we all know how weird he gets when we talk about our feelings. I mean, remember that one time I-"

"Just, here, -" He places another kiss on your lips, then your cheeks, your nose, and your forehead, effectively making you mush. "At least now I know how to really shut you up when you start your monologues"

"Oh shut up and come here" you smile and you pull him up to the couch and snuggle with him under the blanket. 

This was the one thing you didn't think would happen today, and although you lost maybe 10 years from the anxiety alone, it was definitely worth it, you tell yourself as you look at him while he's singing along to the marvel theme song. 

That's my nerd, my Jin.

[birdsinmywalls]

First of all wow! This fic was really something else and I loved reading it. Also unbeknownst to me this became the worlds longest review so I apologize in advance lol. For starters I love how nerdy he is. He becomes a vampire and goes into research mode. Only finds fiction books like bram stoker and is salty when he can’t do those things seems very Eddie.

I like the sparks of chemistry you build between reader and Eddie at the start of their friendship; especially with the banter. This was my favorite exchange “My chain slipped." “So much for reliable” lol. Also I love how you write in subtle notes of body language to show us more character instead of doing it though dialogue like, “Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand.”

Also reader is bold! “He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." That’s a crazy thing to say to someone you first met. It’s very forward! She says a lot of crazy out there things that most wouldn’t which is cool like when they are talking about cults and how she thinks him and his friends are cannibals. Unrelated: The tension you built with them playing guitar!! It was palpable!!

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced” LETS TALK ABOUT EDDIE WITH AN EAR PIERCING!!! Like maybe he has just one ear pierced and he likes dangly earrings that sometimes you get flashes between his hair when he’s talking about something passionately. I’m thinking like a Billie idol cross or something. *swoon* anyway lol

“If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels” Cool! I like that he’s not using his powers to be creepy per say but he could if he wanted to lol. Also It’s crazy that when he drinks blood it makes him so sick at first! Interesting and unique idea to add especially when you recall he eats human food also like the sandwiches reader makes.

We LOVE Wayne content. Loving Eddie and Wayne’s conversation about not having sex outside and how reader is not alternative he is and she’s cooky lol

I love the bickering scene with hopper in the end it’s very on brand sounds just like him!

Bonus lines that I loved: “Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie” lol

“You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." GET IT GIRL

“The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist” love this visual!

TL:DR: Love this fic! It was super fun to read and I’m sorry my review is so long. Happy Halloween and thanks for sharing it.

/\^._.^/\

P.S. Love this bat I’m putting him everywhere lol

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐬 | 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 

summary eddie munson is super weird. he holds your hand too tight, he has a fascination with your neck, and he can’t give a hickey to save his life. good thing you’re super weird, too. [20k]

warnings two losers falling in love!! vampire!eddie munson, ditzy!reader (kind of), fem!reader, smut mdni (p in v, unprotected sex, oral fem receiving, general heavy petting and kissing, praise), fluff, hurt/comfort, angst (eddie struggling with guilt and grief). canon divergent (the events of volume 2 take place but there’s a mostly happy ending i.e. everyone good lives and everyone bad dies) TW eddie doesn't have suicidal thoughts, but he does think about it briefly. not with intent or anything like that though. requested here for my halloween party <3

(㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie Munson never wanted to be a vampire, and he wants that on the record. 

It's a ridiculous existence. It's embarrassing. It's nothing like all the movies and books promised him. 

He's looking at you, Bram Stoker. 

In Eddie's mind, Stoker’s nothing less than a liar and a sycophant. 

"Who's dick were you bouncing on, Stoker?" he demands to know, kicking fallen leaf mulch under his feet angrily. "Need'ta fucking impress some vampire lover with your over-exaggerated, over-powered, ridiculous descriptions? Great. Hope it was worth it. Meanwhile I'm here, self-esteem half the size of a grain of rice because I can't scale a building with my bare hands." 

Eddie would know. He's tried. 

He's not genuinely angry with Bram Stoker, but he'd rather take his frustrations out on a guy who's been dead for a hundred years than take them out on the demobats, because he doesn't want to even think about the demobats. They're all dead too. Not before they'd had (see: devoured) their pound of flesh and changed his life for the worse, though.

He shakes his head to drive out the memory like water in his ears. It's easier to pretend none of that shit in the upside down ever happened. (Impossible to pretend. He begs himself to try anyway.) 

He’s pissed because science fiction has promised him a lot of things and reality has delivered on none of them. No super strength, no impermeable skin. He is faster, but that's more a reflexive thing than anything else. And being faster doesn't make running fun. That’s impossible.

Sunlight breaks through the treeline and his skin crawls. Science fiction didn't get that right, either. The sun doesn't hurt. It's just really, really annoying.

He covers his eyes, winces at his itchy hand, pulls his sleeve over his fingers and covers his eyes again. "This blows," he says, and means it. 

In Dracula, the sun nulls Dracula’s supernatural abilities. Eddie doesn’t have any abilities worth nulling, unless you count echolocation.

He doesn’t. 

He walks another five minutes up the road toward Forest Hills when he realises you're behind him. His senses are enhanced now as a bat’s might be, hearing fine-tuned and dialled up every second of the day — which makes living in a trailer park where everyone thinks he's a murderer an acute misery — but he's as prone to distraction as anyone else. Especially when he gets stuck in a memory.

Eddie throws his gaze over his shoulder and finds you thirty or forty feet away, talking to yourself under your breath. He knows you more for your sounds than your appearance. To be able to put a face to your mindless babbling is a mystery solved. Of course you look like that. A skirt made of soft looking fabric bounces over two cute thighs, a pretty lacy corset type of thing that isn't too tight outfits your top half. You look more like a vampire than he does. 

"Hi, Eddie," you call.

His eyes widen, a deer-in-the-headlights kind of surprise. If you notice how he's frozen you don't show it, continuing to push your bike toward him. The tick of the wheels grows louder as you get closer, two hands on the handlebars with wrists draped in bracelets, both silver and fabric. 

Besides your jewellery, your arms are bare. You must be freezing. 

"Hey," he says. 

He doesn't know your name. He doesn't know how you know his, and he’s too awkward to ask. 

Your sounds peak as you close the gap. The wet scrape of your dirty black canvas shoes over shining asphalt, the soft puff of your breath, the clinking sounds of whatever trinkets you have in your bag. If he focuses, he can make out the tiniest pinches of fabric. Your short sleeves rubbing against your arms, your bra straps stretching over your shoulders. 

Eddie takes a deep breath and tries to diminish his senses. 

"Where's your van?" you ask curiously. 

"Piece of shit kicked it in the middle of town. Just my luck." 

You pause at his side, looking him up and down obviously but without the judgement or irreverent disgust he's come to expect from near about everybody in Hawkins. 

"That's not good," you say succinctly. 

It's such a genuine response that Eddie can't find it in himself to be sarcastic. 

"God awful," he agrees sullenly. 

You nod and start to walk again. Eddie falls naturally into step beside you, matching your pace without thinking. 

"You should get a bike." 

He laughs. Coughs to cover it up. "Yeah?" 

"They're way more reliable than a car, and it doesn't hurt the zone." 

Eddie squints. "The o-zone?" 

"Is there another one?" 

You're still so serious that he spares you the ridicule he might dole out to anyone else. If Dustin had said something like that he would've ripped the kid a new one, but you're rather sweet in an odd way. You have a soft manner of talking — each word sounds like you've thought its pronunciation through meticulously beforehand. 

He ignores your question and points at your bike, ring catching the sun. "Why aren't you riding it?" 

"My chain slipped." 

"So much for reliable." 

That makes you smile. Eddie feels it like a punch, a flat palm slapped into his chest. 

"You can't put the chain on yourself?" 

A brisk breeze whips your hair, your earrings. The left kisses your cheek, a silver heart-shaped hoop with pink beads that click together. You lean into it, face tilted to one side as a perplexed smile plays on your sticky lips. "You can do that?" 

"Sure, you pull it back around the gear. It's easy." He hesitates for a moment, and then feels guilty about hesitating. "I'll do it for you, if you want." 

"The guy in no. 62 has been charging me ten dollars." You don't sound as angry as you should, in Eddie's opinion. 

"I'll do it for nothing." 

You beam at him. His chest feels like a bruise. 

Pretty girls don't like Eddie. Not before Chrissy, not after. He's trying to work out your angle, what it is that you want. 

Or maybe you don't know. 

As soon as you find out who he is, you'll turn your pretty nose up at him and walk the other way. He shouldn't smile at you, he definitely shouldn't fix your bike. 

He can't help it. He's so starved for positive attention that he follows you all the way through the park, westside to east. 

He checks the driveway of his own home and smiles mildly when he spots Wayne's new car. It's new in the sense that it's different. It's actually way older than the one he'd had before, the one he'd pawned to pay for Eddie's — well, Eddie's everything. His check-ups, his court dates, his goddamn bail. In the same way that this trailer isn't the trailer, but an older, smaller one as far away from their first as possible. 

Kid, if I had the money…

Wayne hadn't needed to finish. If he had the money, they'd leave. Leave Hawkins, leave Indiana. Settle down in some other mediocre Midwestern state with all the same creature comforts and none of the "You were acquitted but literally none of us believe you didn't kill someone," motif. 

All they have now is debt, each other, and the Great Munson mug collection. 

Eddie keeps his head down as they pass the old trailer. Nobody lives inside now. Only termites. 

He can taste blood by the time they reach your home. Far from the metallicity of his human blood, Eddie's blood now harbours a bitter taste. Not quite like coffee but with that same overwhelming earthiness. He pulls his teeth from the bitten flesh of his bottom lip and quickly raises a hand to his teeth, alarmed. 

No knife-like points. Normal teeth. 

"Are you thirsty?" you ask him. 

Eddie flinches and drops his hand. You've parked your bike against the wooden lifts of your porch and are halfway up the steps to your front door, hand clasped loosely on the railing. 

His heart fucking pounds. 

"I have grape juice?" 

"Right," he says hurriedly, "right. Yeah, that would be awesome." 

Duh, you meant juice. 

You send him another endearing smile and pop up the last of your steps and into the front door. It's not locked. He doesn't follow, thinking you must live with somebody (who's gonna know exactly who he is and tell him to get lost).

He turns his attention to your bike instead. It's easy enough to fix. He rolls the bike so its handlebars are resting against your concrete driveway and covers the top bar of the metal body with his sneaker to stop it from toppling. He rolls up his sleeves and bares his arms, but pulls them back down immediately when he remembers the white-purple whorls of scar tissue lurking underneath. 

"Fuck," he mutters. Everything is a reminder, all of the time. He can't escape what happened. 

It's everywhere. 

He's getting his fingers under the chain when you reappear. You've layered up, bracelets and naked arms hidden by a black hoodie. 

The wind blows and your skirt shifts. From his position he can see a ladder hiding in your tights where your inner thighs are pressed together. He whips his gaze up like a high-school perv caught sneaking peeks in the girls locker room and notices the stitching on your chest for the first time.

"You like Dio?" he asks excitedly. 

"Who?" 

He wilts. "Uh, your hoodie. Dio." 

"I got it for three dollars in the bargain bins," you supply helpfully, all pep as you climb down the stairs and offer him a glass cup adorned in dainty enamel flowers. "Is Dio good?" 

He waves his hand at the glass apologetically. "Two seconds…" Lifting the chain with the second hand, Eddie tugs and then feeds until the links are lined up with the bumps on the big chainring. The skin on his fingertips get pinched and his eyebrows pull together in pain, but it's a mild irritant at worst and after a moment the chain is back in place. 

He pulls his hand away and wipes dark grease down the front of his jacket. "I think I did it." 

You're glowing, earrings like a metronome as you ask, "That fast? You're awesome."

He turns the pedal and your back wheel spins in time with his heart. You're awesome. When was the last time somebody who wasn't Wayne said anything like that? 

Although Dustin had told him he thought Eddie was a much cooler, more fucked up version of the guy from Van Halen the other day. 

You're just saying that 'cos we're both called Eddie, Eddie had said morosely. 

Learn to take a compliment, dude. 

When they aren't pity compliments, he might. 

Eddie lifts your bike back onto the wheels to show you that it's working perfectly. You giggle your evident pleasure. "Oh, thank you, thank you!" you say, super sweet even as grape juice sloshes over the rims of your flowered glasses and drips down your fingers. 

"Here, let me," he says, taking the glasses from your purple-stained hands. 

You kiss your hands clean which is a thing, a lot to watch. Eddie admits to himself that he thinks you're really pretty, recognises that that is a bad thing to think considering the likely very short life span of your acquaintance. God knows you won't be saying anything as friendly when you find out who he is. 

"You're so nice," you say. It feels like you're talking more to yourself than him. "Thank you. It's slipped off three times this month, and ten dollars is ten dollars. Wait, do you want ten dollars?" 

"My services were administered charitably.”

Your smile grows. You accept your glass and take a small sip, eyes lit up as Eddie steers your bike one-handed to rest against the porch. 

"Do you wanna come inside? I don't have any of the Dio, but I have Blondie." 

He holds in a throwaway comment about real rock and roll, astounded that you’d ask him. "Your folks aren't home?" 

"I'm twenty-two." 

Eddie squints at you. "Seriously?" 

"You didn't think so?" 

He shrugs. It's not that you don't look twenty two. Or even that you don't act twenty two. But it's been a long time since he met somebody living alone in the park. Forest Hills is where poverty comes to settle. 

"A boyfriend?" 

"Just me and mister Porterson." 

"That your grandpa?" 

"That's my pet fish."

He smiles. It's his first real, authentic smile in days. He's genuinely elated by your offer and your attitude, but he doesn't know how to handle it, struck with a sudden nightmare of you, afterward, telling somebody you'd invited him in and he'd tried to hurt you. It isn't fair of him to assume you'd do anything like that. You've been nothing but sweet and sincere this whole time. 

Eddie hasn't let his guard down in a long time. 

You're giving him this wide-eyed, imploring look that promptly suffocates any fear. 

And in a week, when she finds out who you are and feels betrayed, feels tricked? What then, Munson?

"You know what happened?" he asks.

"What happened?" 

"Two years ago. Chrissy… Chrissy Cunningham?" 

Don't say her fucking name. 

Your expression clears as clarity blooms. You take a step. He needs a second to realise you've come forward rather than away, fingers twitching toward his hand. 

"I know about it. I'm sorry that happened to you." 

He stares. 

This is a trick. Two years and he can count the amount of people who believe him on his two hands, and only because they'd all gone through it with him. Sometimes there are outliers, logical people who seem to realise Eddie couldn't have killed all those people, couldn't have been in all those different places without leaving any evidence behind. And sometimes there are people who agree he didn't kill Chrissy, but he's a coward for leaving her to die. (She’d already been dead.)

Eddie doesn't know what he thinks. Wayne sets the record straight every now and then with a clap on the shoulder. You did what every parent wants their kid to do. You lived. I can't ask for more than that. 

"You don't believe it?" 

"That you hurt her?" You hold his gaze, face practically impassive. "No, I don't believe it." 

He pulls in a breath that fills every inch of his chest. "I could learn to like Blondie," he says. 

— 

You're standing in the driveway of Eddie's trailer with a heavy bag over your shoulder, face to face with a man who kind of looks like him but not really. You assume it's his uncle because who else could he be? If you hadn't seen him here you'd never guess. 

"Eddie's mom must've had strong genes," you say. You bring your shoulder up toward your cheek thoughtfully. "He didn't get any of your face. Was she pretty? Eddie's really pretty." 

"She was," he says, peering down his nose at you. 

"I got sandwiches. Do you want one?" 

"What kind?" 

"I have ham and cheese, or ham and lettuce and tomato, or I have pumpernickel cookies. Is Eddie a vegetarian?" 

"Why?" 

"'Cause I only brought one cheese and cucumber, and I have dibs." 

He climbs down the last couple of steps and is still taller but definitely less imposing, face covered in scratchy salt and pepper stubble and crows feet deeply embedded into the corners of his eyes. He looks like a man who has been tired for a very long time. You make a mental note to bring him some lavender for his pillow on your next visit. 

"You're Eddie's new friend?"

You nod your head briskly. "Yes, sir. I'm Y/N." 

He opens his box of camels like a pro, bottom pressed to his chest. He tucks a cigarette between his lips and pulls his lighter out. He doesn't light it. 

"It's nice to meet you," he says eventually, voice warming. 

You search through the mess of your skirt for the zipper on your bag and peel it open, pulling out your tupperware of cookies and cracking them open to release the fragrant smell of cinnamon and almonds. It's a heady scent, fitting for the holiday season approaching. 

You offer Eddie’s uncle a cookie.

"Thought pumpernickel was bread," he says gruffly, taking one. 

"It is, but there's this little town in France that makes these every year at Christmas and they call them pumpernickel biscuits," — he takes a bite and winces at the hard snap — "you're s'posed to dip them in hot chocolate." 

"You don't say." 

You nod happily and he moves aside to let you pass. 

"Thanks, kid." 

You turn back to him with your fingers curled around the door handle. "Of course! It's really nice to meet you, Mr. Munson, sir." 

"Wayne is fine." 

You laugh and repeat his name in a similarly rough voice, letting yourself in as Eddie had told you to do. You find him immediately in a man-made corner of the living room, pale and in his pyjamas. The trailer is open planned, a living room they’ve divided by propping a couch against the kitchen counter, a slim hallway leading to a cramped bathroom and the single bedroom. It's exactly like in your home. 

You're somewhat surprised to see him in pyjamas. Eddie doesn't wear comfy looking clothes out of the house — you've only ever seen him in jeans and jackets like a real rockstar. 

"Are you ready?" you ask.

You've invited him to come and search for bugs with you. Catching any kind of bug, whether beetle or butterfly or spider, is really scary, but you need to be able to catch them to draw them. 

You'd expressed this to him over the phone and he'd said, "I can come and help. I have good reflexes." 

He rubs his hands over his knees. There's a blanket pooled around his feet, a quilt he must sleep with, and the room is decorated with not a whole lot of stuff but enough to make you take a step back. 

"Is this your room?" you ask, enchanted. 

"Kind of." He pulls his hair from behind his ear, obscuring a pale cheek. "I don't think I can come with you today, I'm sorry. I meant to call you." 

You toy with a dark thigh high sock as you ease out of your shoes, height drastically decreasing. "That's okay, we can stay here. I brought you a sandwich. I brought you two sandwiches," you correct. 

He nods. Rather sadly, in your opinion. "Alright. Thanks." 

You step over a tented paperback and hand off the cookies before sitting down beside him on the couch he's occupying. It's smaller than the one against the wall and round like a clam, lots of room for your legs to stretch out. 

"I feel like a pearl," you say. 

You and Eddie have been friends for a little while now. Long enough for you to realise he's either depressed or mentally unwell in some way. You hardly mind keeping him company on his bad days if he needs somebody, so drawing bugs will have to wait. 

His hair is limp, not totally greasy but not super clean either. His face looks fresh enough, though the bags under his eyes make you frown. 

You pull your purse into your lap, thighs covered by the thin layers of your midi skirt. "I have just the thing for you," you murmur. 

"Yeah? Bring me another bracelet?" 

You like that he sounds eager. Making his bracelet had been a challenge, lots of knotting and double knotting, three restarts and one small under the breath tantrum. It's not anything special, black and white hearts seven strands wide, but he'd been very appreciative. 

"No, but I can make you another one if you want. I mastered the inverse chevron last night." 

He hums. You pull a saran wrapped sandwich from the depths of your crowded bag, glad to see it's mostly intact. When you open it up you find that it's the ham and lettuce and tomato one, so you drop it into his lap haphazardly and move onto the next. 

"Aha! Here," you pull a cucumber from your sandwich. "For you." 

He takes it between two tentative fingers. "Thank you?" 

"For your eyes." 

"There's cheese on it." 

"I'll still work," you assure him. 

"M'not putting cheese on my eyes." 

You laugh because he probably shouldn't put cheese on his eyes, cucumber adjacent or otherwise. "Okay, don't. I'll make you a hot towel." 

He drops his hand on your arm as you go to stand. You like how he touches you, soft but not scared. "You just got here. Stay here." He pats you nicely. "Tell me about work last night." 

You settle heavily into the seat beside him, your thigh to his thigh, your hip squished against his hip, doughy flesh separated by nothing more than a strappy tank top and a cotton long-sleeve t-shirt. His heat quickly becomes yours, a sinking transference of warmth. 

"Well," you begin, cheek turning into the couch to face him. "It was mostly okay. I dropped another plate, but this time it didn't have a stack of waffles on it." 

He smiles ruefully and sinks back as you had. Neither of you eat your sandwiches. "Progress. Taking it out of your pay?" 

"Yes, definitely." 

"Discrimination." 

"That's what I said! I said, Sarah, I was born with butterfingers and you know that." 

"She didn't budge?" 

"Dishwashing all week next week. Whatever, though, 'cause it's Saturday." 

He laughs and shakes his head, his gaze dropping to your neck. He does that sometimes. You can't blame him; you wear a varying assortment of necklaces because you think they're pretty, and you're glad he likes them too. 

"See my new one?" 

"What?" 

"New necklace." You look down at your chest and pull the newest addition from between the cups of your bra. "It's real silver." 

"It's nice." 

"It's surprisingly heavy. Wanna feel?" 

"That's okay," he says, slightly strained. 

Right, you think. I'm talking a lot. 

You press your lips together in a mild pout and look at him through appreciative eyes. He's a very pretty boy, all soft and pale and sweet dark curls.

"Do you want me to put your hair up?" 

His lips part before he talks. "I don't know if you should." 

"Sure I should. It's getting in your eyes, right?" You take his hand where it's laid unsuspectingly in his lap and slip the hair tie from around his wrist, his fingertips tickling the inside of your palm. "Sit forward, Eddie." 

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and sits up. You twist and then realise you need some more height, pushing a leg under yourself to kneel next to his lap. 

You weave our fingers softly into the hair at the front of his face and rake away in lieu of a brush. After it's mostly tamed you pull it all into one hand and wrap the tie at the base of his head. You hum to yourself as you go, pleased when his lovely curls behave. 

"Voilà," you announce, moving back on your haunches. 

He breathes out. "Thank you." 

You reach for a curl you'd missed at the very front and encourage it behind his ear. He has subtle indents in his cheeks today like he's in need of a good meal, and his skin is colder than it should be when you flatten your palm. 

"You need something to eat," you fret. Your fingertips stroke under his eye, your thumb his smile lines. 

He moves away slowly. 

You pull your hand back into your lap. "Maybe we can go out and get something, if you don't like the sandwich?" 

"What?" he asks, pale lips taut as he simpers at you. "Are you kidding? This is about to fix everything that's wrong with me." 

His enthusiasm emboldens you. "It so will! There's ham and cheese too, if you prefer that one." 

"Get it! I'm gonna eat both of them." S

Eddie eats both of his sandwiches and you eat your own, the two of you with your heads dropped back against the couch as you watch TV. There's a guy you've never seen before running around the streets of Chicago city centre looking for people to be in his play. Eddie's seen it before. He repeats dialogue in time with the characters, performing each line. Impressive, what with how tired he looks. 

"What did he just say?" you ask, mouth full of cucumber.

"He said he's gonna throw himself off a bridge," Eddie informs. "Poor guy. I know the feeling." 

You swallow harshly.

"Seriously?" 

Your sad tone surprises him. 

"I- No, I'm kidding," he says, scratching the base of his throat, friendship bracelet his only adornment.

His nervous itching makes you even more worried. 

"If you did wanna do that, you can talk to me-" 

He baulks, tongue poking out past his lips as he licks the corner of his mouth. "Thanks, sweetheart," he says, pet name like a kiss. It sounds silly but it really feels like one, right in the centre of your chest. "But I'm fine. Promise. It was a bad joke." 

"Okay," you say, letting your suspicion shine through. You hold his eyes. 

You haven't known Eddie long. It feels like you met yesterday, though really it's been two or three weeks. You fit together in a way you hadn't expected and adore more than you can articulate, two funny puzzle pieces.  

"Well, I just wanted you to know. I like being your friend, I don't want you to disappear."

He laughs and licks his lips, a rough, chesty sound. "I don't want you to disappear either." 

Tires crunch outside, a shushing sound and then the sharp shriek of a jeep being put into park. Eddie perks up considerably, his shoulders straightening. 

"Hey, Chief," Wayne calls. 

Trailer walls. Basically made of cardboard. 

"Hey, Wayne. Where's the kid?" 

You can't hear what Wayne says after that, words stolen by the TV. 

"Is that Chief Hopper?" you ask, trying to catch a glimpse of him through the mostly shuttered blinds. 

"Yeah, he- He's friends with Wayne." 

"Why's he wanna know where you are?" 

"'Cause I got into so much trouble." 

You bite your tongue. His tone is hard, not stern but almost, and you realise you've overstepped as you usually do. You want to apologise but you don't want to pick the wound, eager to gloss over and make him smile again. 

"It's pretty cool, isn't it?" you ask him.

"What?" 

You spread your legs wider to slide onto your thighs and make him the taller one again, legs bent in a 'W' shape. "Coming back from the dead! First Will Byers, then Hopper." 

Something surfaces in his expression. An irony. 

"The undead," you croon, aiming for a smile, a laugh. 

He cracks. "The undead," he agrees, smiling in bemusement. His eyes are a funny shade of brown. 

—

Eddie shoo’s you home early that night but tries to do it kindly. He feigns exhaustion, a facade that's difficult to uphold when his entire body is thrumming with want. If there's one thing Eddie hates about being a vampire (there are literally hundreds of things he hates, but this one's special) it's that he wants to hurt the people he likes a thousand times more than the people he doesn't. 

He can't explain it. Your blood is more appealing than any lonesome stranger's. Your pulse is practically music to his ears when you sit beside him. He'd kill himself before he ever hurt you, though. Or that's what he likes to think. Whether he has that amount of control is debatable. 

No. He would kill himself before he hurt you, or Wayne, or any of his friends. 

Steve can see the way that he's feeling on his face. 

Hopper's delivery set to one side, a tall glass with blood congealed in a sticky ring at the bottom, Eddie curls under his huge quilt and tries not to pass out. Blood sate feels the same as a thanksgiving food coma. It's awesome. 

He hates how good it feels. 

"Stop feeling guilty," Steve says. 

"He doesn't look guilty to me," Dustin says beside him, taller than the last time Eddie had seen him but still miles off of Steve's tall stature. He's changed his hat again, this one a garish green. It's not a good look. 

"He looks like he's napping," Robin says, delighted. 

"Can you guys go home?" Eddie asks. 

"Shithead." 

"What Steve means to say," Robin corrects, grinning her huge, catching smile, "is that no, we aren't going home. We brought games." 

"I don't wanna play games." He does. Eddie needs the distraction, because eventually the blood sate will fade and all that will remain will be self-revulsion and a cruel desire to do something awful. 

"I do not care even slightly," Steve says, deadpan, as he sits right there next to Eddie where you'd been sitting before. Steve's nowhere near as soft and he doesn't smell as nice, but Eddie's honestly glad someone is willing to sit next to him at all. 

"Ouch, what the fuck?" 

Dustin looks up from where he's sat himself on the floor. Robin giggles in her seat on the coffee table. 

"Munson, are you fucking shedding? I just got stabbed." 

"They don't work like that. They retract." 

Eddie feels at his broken gums with his tongue. There's a clean incision where his fangs come out and then snap back inside after a time. They're remarkably thin, fitting in front of his natural incisors neatly. 

Steve grumbles, hips lifted and hand searching under his butt for whatever it is that jabbed him. He retrieves exactly what Eddie had been expecting but hadn't had the forethought to prepare a lie about with a shocked gasp.

"Is this an earring? You don't have your ears pierced." 

He swallows, knowing it's a very guilty gesture, and meets Steve's eyes straight on. 

Funny how Steve's hair speaks as much as his expression, bobbing as he nods his head to emphasise each word, "Munson, do you have a girlfriend?" 

Silence. 

"...Not really." 

"Holy shit," Dustin says, sounding extremely pleased. "No way." 

Robin tucks her short hair behind her ears, hands paused in disbelief at her neck. "Actually?" 

"I have a friend," Eddie admits. 

"Thank god," Steve says, dropping your heart earring onto Eddie's thigh. The silver feels extremely hot over his pyjamas, like it's been held in the centre of a blistering hearth. 

"I really thought Steve was gonna have to take one for the team and give you a pity handie," Robin says agreeably, scratchy voice coloured by genuine awe. 

Eddie groans, "Harrington, get this shit off of me. You know I can't touch that." 

"I forgot," Steve lies. "Can you wait? My hands are busy." 

—

He has Steve put your earring between two pieces of kitchen towel and holds onto it. He doesn't see you for a week, and he keeps your damn earring in his pocket that entire time worried it's gonna slip out and brand him at any second. 

Finally, you call him. He pretends he wasn't waiting. 

"Hello," you say, like you're announcing something. 

"Hey. How are you?" 

"Eddie, I need your help. Badly." 

He flinches up where he'd been leaning casually, hard enough to make Wayne jump. Eddie smiles at him placatingly and mouths a poor sorry, turning away to pretend there's a semblance of privacy to be found in such close quarters. 

"Are you okay?"

"I gotta find a rainbow leaf beetle. Do you have a torch?" 

"...What?" 

"They only come out at night, so I'm gonna go look but I don't have a torch that works." 

He relaxes, the lilting cadence of your voice enough to make his whole night. You sound so pretty even through the phone. He suspects you could hold any pitch, deep or high, and you'd still sound nice. 

It's all in the way you — he says this with love — perform the words. You speak like each word you're saying has equal importance, and it's calming.

Even when you say stuff that's nonsense to him.

Right now, you don't sound upset or even worried about not having a torch, simply curious to know if he has one. If he focuses hard (and he's been trying not to, as you deserve your privacy) he can hear you all the way across the park, shifting from foot to foot in your bedroom, carpet crushed under your heels. 

The action makes him think this might be more urgent to you than you'd first admitted. 

"I have a torch." He also has amazing night vision. Like, impeccable. "Can I come help?" 

"You want to?" 

"I'd love to. Are you going out tonight?" He leans back to glance out the window. "The rain is finally stopping." 

"Yeah, tonight! Is that okay for you? We could go tomorrow if you can't." 

You're willing to change your plans now that he's asked to go with you. It's a gesture as lovely as you are. Eddie doesn't think you'd ever think it of yourself; your kindness is so intrinsic you don't notice it, like the fine stitching of a leather bound book. Integral and widely unappreciated.

"That's perfect."

Wayne raises an eyebrow when Eddie relays the conversation. "You're going out in the middle of the night with this girl to… look for bugs." 

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. "I swear." 

"Be honest with me, kid." 

"I am!" 

Wayne swirls his coke can around in his hand as he thinks, a reluctance evident in his scowl. Eddie knows he's way too old for a guardian's oversight like this but he lets Wayne have a say because Wayne loves him, and Eddie doesn't ever want to put his old man through the turmoil he went through when he ran away. If that means a curfew in his twenties, Eddie's okay with that. 

"If you're going to have sex with this girl, I'd prefer you did it here. You have to treat women with respect."  

Eddie shivers, full body. "Wayne," he groans, covering his face. He can feel his cheeks pink under his palms, that's how quickly his embarrassment rises. 

"I know you're more responsible these days, and you're a grown up. If you want a girlfriend and you want to do adult things with her-" 

"Jesus Christ." 

"- then that's alright. You don't have to fool around outside." 

He drags his hands down on his face, pained. "It's not like that. You met her, you know she's…" 

"Strange?" 

"Alternative." 

"No, you're alternative. She's cooky." 

"Don't," he says. He knows his uncle isn't actually being cruel, so he lets it lie and fights for his own cause. "We aren't messing around. She genuinely wants me to go find these bugs with her. And…" He hates himself. "She has her own place, you know? If we were going to-" 

Wayne seems stricken by the same mortified embarrassment as Eddie, raising a calloused hand in surrender. "Spare me." 

"Thank you," Eddie says, spinning on his heel to hide in the bathroom for a while. It's only when he's sitting on the closed toilet does he realise Wayne hadn't mentioned his more dangerous ailment. For a time, he'd been a normal (debatable) person having a normal (horrifying) conversation with his dad. Not a vampire. Not somebody who ruins everything he touches. 

—

"It's so quiet," you whisper. 

For you, Eddie thinks. 

You're in the forest surrounding the aptly named Forest Hills trailer park, wielding your borrowed torch carefully into the dark. Eddie's following in your footsteps, trying not to smell everything that's on you today and failing. 

You smell like a person as everybody does. Over that is your soap, a faint hint of milk and honey that sticks to your skin even after you've washed it away. Over that is your deodorant, 'unscented', and over that is your perfume, which he likes most. It's a mix of smells, some Eddie doesn't know and some he does. There's lavender, though that might be down to the bunch you'd brought for his uncle wrapped in newspaper, and there's something fruity he can't quite put his finger on, all of it wrapped up in a cloying pairing of vanilla and coconut. 

"Eddie?" 

"What?" 

"Are you okay? You're almost as quiet as the trees." 

If only you knew the trees aren't quiet. 

"I'm alright," he says quickly, catching up to you where you stand a few feet ahead. "What are we looking for?" 

Best change the subject. How to explain he'd been smelling the notes of your perfume? 

"They rest on tree trunks. You have to be careful, any sudden sound or light will scare them away. But if you flash the torch on them, they shine like oil stains." 

He loves when you talk. "Where'd they come from?" 

"Place called Snowdon. They're so rare, they think there's only about a thousand alive there." 

"Well, how did they get here?" 

You laugh under your breath, so quiet he would've missed it if he wasn't enhanced. "I don't know. How do beetles get to different places?" 

"They fly?" 

A twig crunches under your shoe. 

Eddie tips his head to the side, thinking. "If there's only a thousand, how-" He stops, your circle of torch light growing further and further away. "Are you sure that they live here?" 

"No, but if they do we'll be the first to find them." 

"So they've never found any out here? In- In the midwest?" 

"Not yet. Where'd you go?" 

He shakes his head in an affectionate disbelief. "Right behind you." 

You search in silence for a while. Eddie wishes he could say he was mad, or even mildly annoyed, wishes he had even the slightest regard for his own time, but really he thinks any time with you is time well spent. Especially if it's helping you do something you want to do. Whether you find your rainbow leaf beetle or not, he feels better knowing he's out here with you to keep you safe and in company. 

Conversation is sparing. He doesn't mind. Your footsteps fill the sound and he finds even that stupid detail charming, the crunch, the pick up. His own are silent, a rare advantage to his terrible affliction. 

"Any other beetles you want me to keep an eye out for?" he whispers. 

"I'm not sure…" You turn to face him, torch pointed at your shoes. Rubber toes touched together, you lean in until you're all he can smell. Perfume. Blood. "If you see any cool spiders, too." 

"You have the mason jar?"

"You know I do." 

More than you realise, he thinks. The glass clicks in your bag. 

There's enough light reflected to see the most minute details of your face. Your nose, the circle of your irises but not their colour. He suspects Eddie from early '86 wouldn't have been able to see hide nor hair, and it wouldn't shock him if you were technically blind right now.

"Thanks for coming out with me. I was gonna ask you." 

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah, but I didn't want to come on too strong." He can sense your smile even though he can't see it. It's in the way your breathing deepens. "I know I can be a lot to deal with." 

"Who told you that?" 

"What?" 

Eddie doubles down.. "Who told you that?" he sounds heartbroken. 

He kind of is. Yeah, you're weird — Who cares? Who isn't? — but you're not a lot to deal with. He doesn't 'deal' with you.

"Everybody tells me that. All the time." 

"Everybody's stupid." To say it so loudly, scathingly, is sweet. It's therapeutic. "They are. This whole town is stupid." 

Your fingertips touch his thigh. He's willing you to turn the torch up and see his face, because he has a lot of feelings on display that he isn't brave enough to say out loud. 

"You never make me feel stupid," you say softly. 

"You're not." 

You giggle breathily at his vehemence, fingertips pressing in with a touch more pressure before you pull away and shine the torch deep into the trees. 

"This whole town is stupid," you mumble. "But not you." 

He thinks of his friends who are definitely stupid, but he loves anyways. He's about to add them to the not-stupid (subjectively) list when he remembers Steve's discovery: your earring burning a hole in his pocket. He'd been carrying it for long enough now to forget all about it. 

"Hey, I have something for you." 

"You do?" 

"Don't get too excited. It's not a gift." 

He digs in his pocket for the tissue paper wrapping and hisses in shock as the silver plating of your hoop graces his index finger. You shine the torch at him. His eyes ache like he's been stabbed and he slams them closed, hand pulled to his chest. 

How embarrassing. 

"Eddie, what happened?" you question loudly.

He winces at the sudden overstimulation. Slowly, he blinks, and finds you staring at him in a worry that softens every feature, even your nose. He doesn't know the logistics. 

"It's okay. Stabbed a paper cut on the back. Your earring's in my pocket, the heart?" 

"The hoop? I thought I lost it." Your worry turns to confusion and then melds into joy. You step forward and fish in his jacket pocket for your earring. 

"Steve found it." 

"'The hair'?" 

"Yeah, the hair." 

You both laugh and yours heightens when you find the earring, pulling it out like a knife to be brandished. "Yes." 

"I meant to tell you a dozen times that I had it." 

"You're the best." 

There's a crunch of wood somewhere to the left like something heavy falling over.

The forest sprawls in every direction and the trees tower, their presence looming as skyscrapers. The wind ruffles the topmost branches and their trunks groan with pressure. It's enough to freak Eddie out super sense or not, feeling suddenly like he couldn't protect you. He could hear the individual droplets of drool dripping from a lynx's bloody maw, and he can sense each twig underfoot before he takes his next step, but none of that is going to keep you safe in the face of real danger. 

"Maybe we should head back," he says tentatively.

"Okay. Do you want to come over?" 

His breath catches. "You want me to?" 

"Yeah, we can watch movies, I have leftover pasta." 

That sounds more like what he should've been thinking. "I don't wanna keep you up." 

"What kind of pasta?" he asks. 

The torch flickers. "With the tiny tomatoes. You'll like it, super creamy." 

"How do you know?" 

"You like Alfredo," you say astutely, hitting the torch into the palm of your hand. It flashes weakly, the shadow of the trees flickering and so dark they're violet. 

"Try tightening the handle." 

You turn the barrel of the torch and the light switches off completely. You try to undo what you've done to no success, the sound of plastic rubbing plastic almost as loud as your heartbeat. Your pulse falters and then grows to racing when the light fails to come back on. 

"Eddie," you say, sounding unsure. It's a new sound on you. "I don't know where we are. How are we gonna get home?" 

Your admission is like a dousing of ice water over his head. "You don't know what direction we came from?" 

"No, do you?" 

Eddie wouldn't know if he couldn't hear the sound of the electricity pylon buzzing somewhere to the right. But how can he explain that? "Uh, we were turned around."

You creep to his side and grab his arm with both hands. "Are you sure?" 

"Hey," he says gently. "Hey, it's okay. I know where we are. We'll be fine." 

"Are you sure?" you ask again. 

"I'm positive." 

You take a deep breath that doesn't erase your shakiness, a failed attempt at self-soothing. "I really don't know where we are." 

"You're not afraid of the dark, are you?" 

"Not really… I don't wanna get lost out here." 

"You won't. I know how to get back. C'mon," he prompts, pulling his arm to encourage you forward. 

You let go of him and navigate a few steps by yourself. He weaves through the trees, waiting for your heartbeat to slow. 

It doesn't. He opens his mouth to reassure you again when you gasp, kicking your foot against a root and tripping. You barely fall, catching yourself on the trunk of a tree, and Eddie remembers himself. You can't see the trees. That's why you're worried. You can't see anything. 

Then the smell of blood hits him like a freight train. 

—

Your hand stings where you caught yourself, palm scraped down against harsh bark. 

"Shit," you mumble. 

You're panicking badly, and you're confused as to why Eddie isn't. Not only was it fucking stupid of you to come out here with only one torch, it was stupid of you to assume you'd remember what way was home. It was stupid of you to come here tonight for that stupid beetle, and stupid of you to drag Eddie along. You're an idiot, and now you're bleeding. 

Your eyes sting with tears, pain like a popped seal. I'm so stupid. 

"Hey," Eddie says, his tone silky soft, "you're okay. Let me help you up." 

You hold your hands out. 

"Eddie, this is weird." Hopefully he understands that weird means scary.

He takes your hands, fingers closing slowly over your bloody palm. His breath is loud as he pulls you up toward him like he's panicked but his grip stays kind, and you abandon the notion when he rubs over your knuckles with his thumb. "It's alright." 

He doesn't sound the same. 

"Eddie, we can't see." 

"We'll go slowly, okay? I'll put my hand out and we'll walk around anything that gets in the way." 

"Yeah," you say hurriedly, heart bump-bump-bumping against your ribcage. 

He keeps one hand, the injured one, and starts to drag you slowly through the trees. His grip tightens as you go until it starts to ache, until it feels like it might bruise. 

"Ouch, Eds. You're hurting me," you say, going for a lightly teasing tone and missing the mark. 

Instantly, he eases off. "Sorry, sweetheart. You hold onto me, alright?" 

You do as he'd asked, hand clinging to him as he leads. He doesn't squeeze you again, walking slowly as he'd promised, and the closer you get to the edge of the forest the clearer it becomes. Light pollution from the centre of town leaches through the trees like water trickling from an overflowing basin. 

His second hand is in his pocket. 

"Here," he says after you've traversed to the very edge of the forest. "There's the park. We're bona fide explorers." 

He looks out toward the park and you look at the side of his face. Something isn't right. Something uncanny. 

You drop your gaze from his face to your joined hands. They come apart, blood smeared in both your palms like two halves of a dripping heart. 

— 

There is something weird about Eddie. As a residential freak of Hawkins you think you're an authority in this, and you don't feel guilty for judging him. Your brain can't stop going over your night in the forest. For days you play the scenes back and for days you lose the details. You forget how the wind had tousled his hair, how he'd smelled, what he'd said. 

You remember the way he'd squeezed your bloody hand. You remember the way he'd spoken, strained. 

Not strained like he didn't want to comfort you, he had, but strained. 

Restrained. 

You're poking at the shallow cut half-healed now in your palm at work when a dude walks in, very tall, handsome, and gunning straight for you. 

You straighten your badge and hide your bracelet heavy wrists behind your back, receding slightly as he approaches. He slows in front of you. 

You have a light bulb moment. 

"The hair," you say.

He scowls. "He told you that, huh. Typical." 

"You're Steve?" 

"That's me." Steve crosses his arms across his chest, his back to a booth, your back to the diner bar. "You're Eddie's new friend." 

"What counts as new?" A month and a half doesn't feel so new to you. 

"Trust me, you're new." 

He has the strangest patch covering the outside of his left wrist, the same peculiar scarring that you can see on Eddie's waist when he reaches for a glass out of the kitchen cabinet. You don't ask because you're not a dick no matter how curious you find yourself, but it makes your heart skip. What is that? You'd assumed Eddie's was road rash. Now you're not so sure. 

He tucks it under his arm. 

You meet his suspicious gaze. 

"You want coffee?" 

"No." 

You kick your foot, shoe sliding over the shiny waxed floor with a squeal. "Is Eddie okay?"

"Did you want to come to a party next Friday?" 

"No," you say honestly. "Like a cult?" 

"What?" 

"Are you initiating me into your cult?" 

He finally smiles, eyes creased with amusement. "I'm inviting you to our club." 

"Club where you chew on each other?" 

You look pointedly at Steve's wrist. 

"No. Club where we play board games and drink jiffy pop. Come or don't, doesn't matter." 

"If it doesn't matter, why are you asking me?" 

It's a strangely intense conversation to have this early in the morning. Patrons chatter about work, coffee gets poured. The diner smells of syrup and sugar and bitter cold-press. You're both in work apparel, both refusing to move back. If this is some kind of shovel talk then that's fine, and if it's a test you're determined to pass, even if Eddie's been super weird lately. 

"I'll come if you promise not to eat me," you say. 

"It's really not that kind of club." 

—

"I had the weirdest visit in the entire world today," you declare, stopping in front of Eddie's porch with a smile. 

"Yeah?" he asks without looking up, guitar in his lap and pen scribbling over a lined notebook.

You wait for him to stop before you continue, leaning forward with both arms braced on the porch by his feet. "Steve Harrington came to see me, and he was super mean. You said he was nice." 

He frowns at you. "I told you he was a dick." 

"You like him when you tell me stories." 

"How mean?" Eddie asks, patting the seat beside him. 

You climb up onto the porch and plop down onto the couch, worn leather cold with the weather and damp in the seams. 

You take a strand of his hair and curl it around your finger. "Not really super mean, but he was, like, acting like I killed a baby." 

"He's like that." 

You sigh and lean your cheek against the couch cushion, watching Eddie's stubble move as he tamps down a teasing smile. "He invited me to a party next weekr." 

"It's not a party- Sweetheart, what are you doing?" 

You tickle his cheek with the end of his hair. "Nothing." 

"M'gonna sneeze." 

You tickle him again, fine dark strands brushing over his pale cheek. He's a very ashen guy, you've found. Likely because he barely goes out in the sun and he doesn't eat enough. You draw circles around the apple of his cheek and grin softly at his growing smile, a sweet, silly thing. 

"I'll tickle you back," he warns. 

"Promise?" 

He steals the curl back and tucks it behind his ear. 

"You're not a cannibal, are you?" 

Eddie chokes on air. You startle at his coughing and move to pat his back, palm slapping a steady rhythm into his shoulder. When he calms down you run your hand down the length of his arm, long sleeve t-shirt soft beneath your touch. You linger at his wrist and decide to hold it. 

He drops his pen and your hand travels until he's caught your thumb. He kneads it in his fingers.

"I'm not a cannibal. Why would you think that?" 

"I don't, but you and Steve are in your club, right?" 

"Hellfire wasn't like that," he says heatedly.

"No, not- Not that one." 

He doesn't say anything. 

"You have… He has this scar, on his wrist. Like something bit him, or-" He turns to you and he looks formidable and upset and himself, not mad at you but raw emotion in his expression anyhow. It's gone as quick as it came. 

"When all that… stuff happened," he begins quietly, "we got hurt. A couple of us." 

You drop your head, ashamed at having pried.  "I'm sorry, you don't have to tell me anything else."

"Don't be sorry…" He squeezes your hand and lets it go. "Don't worry about it." 

"Okay." 

"We usually call ourselves a party, these days. Not a club." 

"Do you really play board games and drink jiffy pop?" 

"Sometimes we get really crazy and order a pizza. You should come." 

You realise as he says it how much his wanting you to go had mattered to you. Eddie's your friend, and you don't think that you're going to stay friends much longer.

"You think your friends will like me?" you ask, voice descending to a new kind of gentle. 

He puts down his guitar and his notebook. His full attention is something you've come to really enjoy, not because of the hunger you often see flitting across his face — though that's neat —, but because of the inklings of adoration clinging to his smile when he looks at you. His blinking lashes. He smiles at you and just slows. A usually frenetic boy calmed. 

"Maybe not Mike. Mike doesn't like anybody. Except for Will," he muses.

"What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Who do you like?" 

"I like all of them." He juts his cheek toward his shoulder, conceding, " I think Dustin's my favourite. He's funny. He's funnier than I am, and he's the smartest kid I've ever met. And he knows it." 

Your eyes focus on the pink outline of his upper lip as he speaks. It's a pleasure to be this close, and see him in this kind of crazy detail. When you go home tonight you might try to draw him. You'll probably forget.

It's the kind of smile that deserves to be immortalised. 

"I really like your smile," you tell him, hoping it'll last a little longer. 

It stretches. The pink outline turns white. "Shut up." 

"I do. I've seen a thousand different smiles but I've never met someone who smiles like you do." 

"How's that?" he asks, edging toward you, face a mirror in which you can see your own charmed expression. 

"Like you," — you shake your head with your lips parted — "know a secret. Something you won't tell anybody." 

His smile abruptly ends. 

You've nothing if not a talent for saying the wrong thing. 

"A good secret," you amend. 

He picks up his acoustic and gives it an experimental strum. "Maybe one or two," he agrees. 

Relief catches you. You nibble at the inside of your lip and watch his fingers work over the neck of his guitar, tipping your head so you can read the words he's markered over the body. 

"This machine slays dragons," you murmur to yourself. "Yeah? How many?" 

"Just the one." 

"Save any princesses?" 

"Not yet." He plucks at the strings, lost in thought, before turning to you with eyebrows raised. "Can you play?" 

You exhale out of the corner of your mouth as he pushes the guitar into your lap, an arm coming around your shoulder, the other reaching to guide your curled forefinger to the strings. You turn to face him, watching him talk with a growing fondness. 

"It's easy, I swear. We'll do Call Me. Blondie's basic, even a baby could play it." 

He realises you aren't listening and raises his gaze, shiny brown irises stuck on your lips. This close, it would be worse if he didn't look at them. 

You glance at his, an obvious thing, half a wish. If he only lifted his chin. 

Your breath mingles. 

"It's easy," he says again, a murmur of his usual volume as his gaze pulls back up to yours. "I'll show you." 

You wonder if he can hear your heart pounding; it's deafening. You wait, and you wait, and you turn your eyes back to his guitar and clamp your fingers down against the struts so he can't see them shaking with adrenaline. 

—

Eddie sits beside Steve and tries not to admit to himself that Steve Harrington is, horrifyingly, his best friend (along with the rest of the party, obviously). Steve is the closest in age and Eddie can't make excuses (though he tries and tries and tries), Steve understands how much Eddie doesn't ever want to talk about anything that's happened to them, so he talks about literally everything else instead. 

"It was the weirdest pawn shop I've ever been in. They had, like, a wall of combi's playing the same video at the same time but all slightly delayed." 

Eddie blinks. 

Steve turns his head from the TV, having expected a response. "Did you say something?" 

"No." Then, because he's not a dick. "Sorry, Harrington. Want me to sit on your other side?" 

"What for?" Steve says. Not because he denies how he's hard of hearing, but because he denies having conversations with Eddie. 

He does end up moving to Steve's other side with a pathetic excuse. "I can't see the TV." 

Steve doesn't say a word until he's sat down again. "Sorry I was mean to your girlfriend." 

"Yeah, what was that about?" 

"I was cranky because it was early and I don't want her to damage the integrity of the party." He gives equal weight to both reasons. 

Eddie snorts at him. "Since when do you care about the integrity of the party?" Steve barely acknowledges that they are a party. He thinks that's a very nerdy way to say friends. 

"Since always, dipshit." 

"And inviting her to join the party was the solution because…?" 

Steve drinks the rest of his coke and pretends to really care about what's on TV. "If," he begins after a minute, refusing to look at Eddie, "something happens with her, and something happens to you, that damages the integrity of the party." 

"Steve," Eddie says, jaw dropped down to his chest, "do you have a crush on me?" 

"Oh my god," Steve mutters. "Oh my god," he says louder. "I can't stand you." 

To prove his point, he gets up from the couch with a wrinkled nose, stops to tap his shoe gently against Max's where she's sitting in the armchair across from the coffee table, and disappears into his kitchen. 

Steve Harrington cares about me enough to give Y/N the shovel talk. 

He feels kind of great about it. 

But he's not sure your the one who needs warning. 

That night in the forest, Eddie had almost snapped. There are rules to follow if he wants to keep people safe, self-imposed, Hopper-imposed, and he's broken too many with you already, the most important being no close proximity when he's hungry. Eddie doesn't even realise he is hungry half the time. He'll be standing by you and he'll want to touch you, and suddenly it's like he's three weeks in to the month without sating. 

He thinks about kissing you and suddenly he's thinking about biting you, and hurting you, and it's literally tearing him up from the inside out. 

How can he want to do that to you? 

"You look so depressed and pathetic," Dustin says out of the blue. 

Eddie pouts and falls back into the couch, Steve's fancy throw falling onto his shoulder. "I used to like you," he says, taking in Dustin's outfit with a kind of parental approval. He's getting older and it shows, slightly more handsome than he had been — he's kept all his baby weight and it suits him, his full cheeks surrounded by the softest brown curls Eddie has ever seen. The outfit stays immature, a funny t-shirt and ill-fitting pants. 

"Sad. You have a sad face," Dustin says. 

"Go play with your nerd squad, please." 

He doesn't listen, collapsing in Steve's still-warm seat like a cheap tent and crossing longer, thicker arms over his chest. He smiles at Eddie genuinely. "Where's your girlfriend?" 

"No." 

"Where's Y/N?" 

Eddie tips his head so he can see past the coffee table and points to where you're almost hidden, sitting with Robin on the floor by Steve's sideboard. You have a basket of tapes in front of you, the two of you trying to choose what's going in the stereo. Eddie prays for anything but Blondie. 

You will most likely choose Blondie. 

"What does she like?" Dustin asks curiously. 

"Everything, kind of. Why?" 

"I wanna know what to say when I talk to her." 

Eddie smiles at his friend's face, a soft, surprised thing. "I don't know if she knows anything about the radio but if you're happy about it she'll be happy too. She's a good listener."

Dustin picks at a piece of lint on his t-shirt bearing a white and black print of a dog wearing sunglasses. "So you talk to her?" he asks without looking up. 

"I mean, yeah. What else do you do?" 

"With a girl that likes you? Huh, let me think." Dustin laughs and ruins his own sarcasm, pointer finger laid against his chin in a show of thoughtfulness. 

"It's not like that," Eddie says lightly. 

"It could be." 

"Could it? I mean… I don't even know if she'll stick around. And I feel bad 'cos I can't be honest with her." 

"Why not?" 

"Hopper said he would literally put me in the hole if I even thought about it." There's no need to expand. Dustin would know better than anyone what he's talking about. 

He cringes at the thought, self hatred a hot poker down his throat. He must've said it to Dustin a hundred times when he finally came around from his coma (that wasn't a coma, but a death, and then a rebirth). I can't believe I put you through that. I can't believe I put you through that. I'm so sorry. 

I'm just glad you're alive, Eddie. 

And for a while, Eddie hadn't felt the same. The world he'd woken up to was hard. There had been lawyers and grief and guilt and becoming. He doesn't have the words to describe how it feels to become something new, something that needs to hurt people to live, something that will hurt people to live, whether Eddie wants to or not. 

The loss of choice is suffocating. 

Though moments like this with his friends– they don't make it 'worth it', they're just how it had to happen. There isn't a scenario where Eddie could give up. He can't leave Wayne, and he can't leave Dustin. He can live with the grief of what he is if it means other people don't have to live with grief of what he isn't. 

"Eddie, are you okay?" 

He's missed something. Dustin isn't the only one looking at him. 

He curls a hand around his forearm subconsciously. "I'm fine. I think I'm gonna go to the bathroom, actually. Gotta piss real bad." 

"Eddie-" 

"I'm fine, Henderson." He puts on a good show, patting Dustin's arm. His heart, usually so slow these days, has enough life in it to ache. 

He can't have been in the bathroom for five minutes when somebody knocks on the door aggressively. He's expecting Steve, pissed at his disappearance and likely preparing a speech on attention seeking behaviours and how they're hurting the youth of America, so he opens the door with a tired glare. 

He finds you, beaming and pretty, dressed ridiculously nicely for his idiot friends. 

"Hi," you say. He can hear something from Blondie's Parallel Lines playing from the living room, familiar because it's your favourite album. "Any room for me?" 

Eddie moves back. You close the door behind you. The bathroom becomes a vacuum of your sounds and smells. 

"They didn't have any Dio," you say with a smile. 

"I honestly wouldn't expect any different." 

"You could've brought some tapes, your mix from the van," you suggest. "I love that one." 

"Which one?" he asks, and he can't help it, whenever he's with you his voice crops to a dulcet murmur. The urge to speak to you as you speak to him is unconquerable. 

"One with the winking smile on the slipcase. I really like it." 

"You can have it." 

You lean against the sink. "I can?" 

"Mm. Whatever you want." Especially when you look like this. 

You smile at him, your 'thank you' smile, all sticky fondness and mischievousness. He has no idea what you're thinking. 

"'S a small bathroom in a huge house," you marvel. Your voice echoes "Where does he shower?" 

"There's an upstairs bathroom." 

"Two bathrooms? That's-" 

"Audacious?" 

"I was gonna say overkill." 

Your candidness has him shaking with laughter. He clutches at his sides, arms crossed and leaning forward. You visibly take in his appearance, eyes panning slowly over his clean hair. He'd taken care to look like somebody you might want to look at tonight. 

"Why don't you sit down, Eds?" you ask, eyes creased with an unreadable emotion. 

Eddie feels blindly for the toilet lid and pushes it down so he can do as you ask, wondering why you're asking.

"You look very handsome today." 

He hugs himself. "As opposed to every other day, when I don't?" 

You take a step forward, a second, hands playing with the hem of your shirt. Your outfit today is delightfully simple, a pressed black t-shirt long enough to cover the waistband of your pleated skirt. There's an expanse of thigh that makes his heart beat spin out, one longer than the other where your thigh-high is falling down.

He wants to pull it up. 

"C'mere," he says. 

You take that last step between his shoes and he reaches out, getting his fingertips under the elastic of your sock and tugging it upward over the soft fat of your leg. Your hands come up to his shoulders for balance, and you say, "No, you look handsome every day. Today you look very handsome. I made the distinction." 

He covers your thigh with both hands, looking up into your face as you look down. "You look really pretty today," he says boldly, fingers spreading behind your knee. 

"Thank you. Do you like my t-shirt?" 

It's a screen print of Debbie Harry. Eddie tries not to roll his eyes. "I love it, but your dedication to Blondie is seriously worrying, sweetheart." He gives your leg a short squeeze and pulls the most giggly smile out of you yet. 

"Like Madonna." 

"No!" he bemoans. 

You laugh and grow closer, arms on his shoulder, a hand threaded into his hair. "Cyndi Lauper?" you suggest. 

He puts a hand on your waist as you move in for a hug. Your arms wrap around his neck and the tops of his shoulders, cheek crushed to the top of his head. 

He'd ask if you were okay if he thought you weren't. You're not upset or seeking comfort. You're affectionate. You've been getting more and more touchy for weeks, as he has. Stolen touches, your almost-kiss on the porch last week. 

"No, not Cyndi Lauper," he says, his hand skirting around your back to pull you in properly. 

"R.E.M?" 

"God, no. Where are you hearing all this junk?" 

"The radio." 

"Tuned into the wrong station." 

You pet the back of his head. "Yeah," you say softly, "I think I was." 

The hug is shorter than Eddie wants it to be. You make one of your happy sounds and pull away to get your hands on his face, stroking curls from his cheeks with a protective touch. "Handsome," you say, turning your hand to stroke his cheek with your knuckles. "Pretty. You have really big eyes, Eddie, so brown, and so…" You tilt your head to one side, face inching forward. 

He turns his face to suit, to fit, breath held as you close the gap. 

"So pretty," you murmur, and kiss him. 

His hands are limp and then alive, one clutching your hip, one splaying against your chest. He can hear the thud of your heart clear as day — you're bumping with excitement as you kiss him. It's a delicate, tender thing, the party suddenly far away, the music drowned by the sounds of your breathing. You kiss as you talk, as you move, gentle but with bursts of ardency. Your lips are a blissful heat, the tip of your nose smushing into his as you part your lips over his. 

He lifts his chin higher, his neck craned to receive you. He's savouring every movement. Each pause for breath that you take. The feeling of your inhales over his quick-bruising lips. 

Your hands play in his hair so sweetly it makes his eyes burn with an embarrassing amount of emotion. He screws them closed and squeezes up your waist, steadying himself as you feel along his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue. 

You don't get much further than that, seemingly pleased with your own brazeness or perhaps his touch, eyes glowing with mirth as you pull away. 

"Sorry," you breathe, not sorry at all. "You just really looked like someone should be kissing you."

You're flushed. Eddie can practically see the heat emanating off of your cheeks. He can feel it. 

He stands up, your pulse a ringing in his ears. The wet valves of your heart opening and closing. 

"Eddie?" you ask quietly, lifting your head to meet his eyes as he walks you back into the door. 

His gums sting. A click. 

It's a compulsion. 

His hands curl around your elbows, holding you in place. Your eyes are wide with confusion, your lightly swollen lips parted. He can see the tiniest slip of your pink tongue. 

He holds your gaze as he leans in. Your eyelids flutter closed. You wrap your arms around him as he descends, totally trusting. 

He's a meaner kiss than you are. He starts slow but swiftly loses a handle on it, kisses short but insistent, hot presses like little crescent moons against your barely open mouth. 

His hands move up your arms, a near vice-like grip until he finds your sleeves. His fingers slip underneath, hands hungry for your warmth. 

You make the worst sound anyone has ever made as he moves back, like something has been ripped from you. A gutted gasp, near silent. 

He placates as he wades back in. Thumbs rubbing your arms, lips mouthing damp kisses down your face. The corner of your pout, the hill of your chin, the skin under your jaw. Your head tips back against the door with an audible thud. You exhale hard. 

Eddie can't feel his hands. 

Your pulse hammers under his lips. He kisses it once. He can't think. He can't breathe. 

"You're always cold," you whisper, your hands drifting lazily under the fabric of his t-shirt. Your fingertips trail up his spine. "But your lips are warm." 

He kisses your neck, his lips parting slowly, a hair's width a second as he sucks your skin into his mouth gently. It's barely a kiss. He does it a second time. A third. You start to laugh, a golden sound. 

The point of his fangs touch your skin and you stop. 

Eddie closes his mouth abruptly. His hand leaps to your neck and he feels your heart skip as he holds you still. "I'm sorry," he says, nose rubbing over the damp spot he's left behind, your teased skin. 

Your heart hikes again. 

"I'm sorry," he repeats. He pulls away, an agony. 

"It's okay," you say. Your breathlessness says otherwise.

Eddie takes as many deep breaths as he can stand, wanting to clear his head and filling it with you instead. Your everything; your smell, your skin. Your limp hands against his back. 

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" he asks when he gets a look at you, your unreadable expression. He takes care to keep his head angled down so you can't see the lower half of his face. 

"I don't think you could." 

You cup his cheek in your hand and he leans into it, his weight against yours.

"I wanted to tell you something," you confess. 

"What-" He licks his lips, wincing when his fangs slide into his tongue and scrape grooves across his taste buds. "What was that?" 

"I know you…" You pause, fingertips rubbing at his cheek.

Does she know? Eddie thinks, horrified. He hadn't realised how scary waiting could be. A thousand worries condensed into a handful of seconds. Does she know?

How could she not?

You press your palm to his cheek with more insistence. "I don't want you to think you have to hide anything from me. I know you have scars," you say, fingers sliding into the soft baby hair at the back of his neck. "You don't have to cover up. You don't have to cover any of it." 

"I won't hurt you," he says, trying to convince himself. 

"I know." 

-

You stay a while longer. Eddie's friends pretend that you hadn't been alone in the bathroom for an inordinate amount of time together. You thank them all silently and less so, trying to talk to as many of them as you can. 

There's Lucas, who's really, really nice, and his girlfriend Max, who's less so. She gives you an unimpressed look through her thick-lensed glasses, but you compliment her crutches and she comes around. 

There's Mike, who actually isn't anywhere as bad as Eddie had described him. He's not frosty or standoffish, he's sweet and he asks questions. There's a girl with him that you don't catch the name of, and a boy on her other side. 

There's Dustin, who you adore immediately, Robin, who you adore more, and then there's Steve. 

Steve offers you a pretzel like you're more than familiar. He strolls right up to you with a bowl of them in hand and doesn't leave until you've eaten half of them. 

There's a couple of people you don't manage to talk to at all, and you feel guilty about it all the way home. 

"What if they think I'm rude?" you ask, tired eyes locking onto the stereo system. The time blinks analog in the dark, 12:59AM. 

"They don't, don't worry about it. You have lots of time to get to know them, anyway." 

You hum and turn to his face, indulgent because you know he can't look back. "You're not too tired to drive, are you?" He's spent. Yesterday had been one of his bad days. 

"I'm fine." 

"You say that all the time," you observe, dropping your cheek into the passenger seat's headrest. 

"I'm fine all the time." 

"Liar." 

"Nuisance." 

You huff a laugh through your nose. The strands of his friendship bracelet, the small beads at the ends, swing like pendulums in the gap between his arm and the steering wheel. You can see the rough skin of a scar creeping out from under his sleeve. 

"Mike was really nice," you say. 

"He has a bleeding heart." 

That feels accurate. "He reminds me of you." 

Eddie rolls his eyes. You feel for every detail, the strange tension between you like a gaussian filter over everything. He's gorgeous in a horrific way, heartbreakingly pale, eyes dark as pitch, hands restless. They squeeze alone the wheel, thick fingers curling tight until his knuckles are stark white. Running down the back of his hands are veins like rivers. They're more purple than green. 

"Eddie," you say, playful, a tiny bit insecure. 

"What?" 

"Wanna stay the night?" 

His hand moves forward on the wheel like he's revving a motorcycle, the tendon in his wrist rising to the surface. He clenches. "Not sure it's a good idea." 

"Just to sleep. It's late." 

"I don't know if I can sleep next to you." 

You don't wanna say please. You don't want to ask Eddie to do anything he can't or doesn't wanna do. 

He pulls up outside of your house with his mind already made up. He gets out of the car and you follow his lead. He locks it, shoves the keys in his pocket as you join him on the path up to your porch. 

He's been in here enough times to know what it looks like, but for some reason you find yourself checking his face, worried about what it is he thinks of your things, all your mismatched trinkets, your stained glass lamps, your life as you let yourselves in. He ducks through the beeded curtain into your bedroom wary that they'll get tangled in his hair like they sometimes do. 

"Do you wanna call Wayne?" you ask, gesturing to your telephone on the right hand side, nestled between a stack of books and a cup full of coloured pencils. 

You pull your knee up to your chest and unlace your shoes one at a time. Eddie punches the number into the phone and holds the receiver to his shoulder to do as you're doing. It takes him less time to pop his sneakers off than for you to get out of yours. He's just taken the phone back into his hand when Wayne picks up. 

"Wayne?" he asks softly. "Didn't wake you up, did I?" 

You can't hear his response. 

"I'm gonna stay with Y/N tonight. Yeah, we had a good time. Yeah…" His eyes drift to you as you peel out of your thigh highs.

"Yeah, I'm still here. What?" He meets your eyes and it feels accidental, because he throws his eyes to your bedsheets and turns his face to the wall. "No," he says firmly. 

You scrape together something to wear for bed and some fresh underwear and leave for the bathroom, telling yourself that nothing is gonna happen so don't get your hopes up but not wanting to get caught out if it does. You freshen up, brushing your teeth and washing your face.

You stare at yourself in the mirror and wonder if you should've left your face-powder and your mascara on. Maybe even the skirt. You'd looked nice and pretty for the party. Now you look like yourself, still pretty but without those extra touches. Will he care? Does it matter? 

You debate your pyjama pants considerably. 

There's a lot happening. 

Eddie is… Eddie is something else. He's different, you'd known that for a long time, and his kiss had confirmed it. 

He's something out of a science fiction book. 

Well, nobody's perfect. 

Whatever he is, he'd kissed you. You'd kissed him and he'd responded, he'd come back for more, and now he's sitting in your bed when he could've gone home. You bring your hand to your neck and crane to one side, fingertips poking at your unbroken skin. His hickey's haven't even bruised. 

You screw the pants up and drop them into your laundry basket. You take off every piece of jewellery on your person. 

"Do you wanna use the bathroom?" you ask from behind the beaded curtain. "I left a new toothbrush for you on the sink." 

"Yeah, desperately, I…" He takes you in as you emerge. Fresh-faced, bare-legged. As naked as you've ever been in front of him, physically and otherwise. 

Eddie meets you where you're standing. He's ditched his jacket, and for the first time since you met him you can see the full length of his arms.

"You're not wearing your bracelets," he says, looking between your bodies. His hand twitches toward yours. 

"You have tattoos," you say. 

"They were better, before." 

There's a misshapen mess of black splodges near the crook of his elbow broken up by scar tissue. One arm is less scarred than the other, an almost perfect flank of white skin. 

"Is that a puppet? He's super spooky." 

"Mh-hm." 

You bring your hand to his tattoo and feel over the skin. It doesn't feel like it's there. Eddie holds your wrist and the two of you move together, your fingertips stroking up until you're wrapped around his bicep. 

Eddie brings his free hand to your collar. His index finger straightens, encouraging your chin up so he can ease forward and kiss you. He's firm, eager, and your lips curl up into a smile underneath it. He turns his head to the right and you fall left, smile worsened when you feel his own start to form. 

He nudges your nose. You take it for a telling off and laugh. "Sorry," you apologise, kissing his top lip. 

"You're making this difficult," he chides. 

Despite any sternness, Eddie loosens his grip on your wrists to slide his fingers between yours, pressing your joined hands to your chest. He leans back down and he's careful, almost methodical in the way he kisses. Chaste pecks, hot and precious as tiny stars. 

You reach for his waist. 

Eddie kisses you a final time and steps back. "I'll be back," he promises. 

You lower your chin, flustered and perplexed by his sudden departure.

Walking around to the right side of the bed, you click on your bedside lamp — a beautiful glass and foiled contraption that throws dainty stripes of stars and hearts over everything close in the dark — before climbing in. You sniff one of your pillows experimentally, trying to remember when you last changed the bed. You decide they're acceptable even if they really smell like your hair oil and flip them around to be safe, plumping them up with your hands.

You've curled up on your side and almost succumb to your fatigue when Eddie returns, bringing with him the smell of spearmint and a fuzzy feeling in your stomach as he shuts off the light and sits on the opposite side of the bed, facing you. The hair around his face is damp with water, baby hair's limp. 

"I'm sorry I don't have anything for you to wear, I-" Youre cut off by your own gasp as Eddie kisses you, his hand on your neck, his nose bridge sliding into your own. You hadn't been expecting it, and it's no less dizzying than any other kiss he's given you today. 

"It's okay," he murmurs lowly, lips pressed to your lips, "have to wear you, is all."  

You huff a laugh into his mouth. "I swear I'm always laughing when I'm with you," you muse as Eddie dedicates himself to your bottom lip. You cup the back of his head. "You're amazing." 

Eddie groans and eases back. "I'm not good with words, sweetheart. To tell you how I feel about you." 

You push one of your legs toward his knee. "...You can show me." 

He shifts in the bed until he can lean over the entirety of your chest, hands cupping your face and lips poised hovering over your own, a millimetre of space between your mouth and his. "Okay," he says quietly.

He dips down. You can feel his bottom lip tremble, and then he's kissing you too hard to feel it anymore. You wrap loose arms around his back. 

"Are you sure?" you whisper to him. 

He rests his nose against your cheek, eyes closed, drawing the tiniest left to right. "I want you," he reassures. 

"And you're okay?" 

"Yeah, sweetheart. I'm okay. Do you want to?" 

"Yeah. More than anything." 

Another loving kiss against your cheek, Eddie moves down, down, down. "Tell me if I do something you don't like," he murmurs, top lip dragging and leaving a line of dampness to the base of your throat. 

He adorns the canvas of your neck in half-moon contusions, big hands caressing your shoulders, your chest. You hold your breath as his fingers pass over your nipple, fighting to keep in any embarrassing sounds. 

Eddie disagrees with his plan of action. You shiver as he brings his lips to a close and his bottom teeth scrape upward, as he pulls his head up and says, "C'mon, angel, breathe." 

He follows his command with a manipulative touch, a circle over your nipple that makes you shudder. He kisses you and it feels like a thank you, pressure, a heat as his palm smooths over the bump of your tummy to your thighs. He squeezes the outside of one and for a while you can kiss him back, and then he pulls your thighs apart and you break away. Eddie follows, kisses you even when your reciprocation is weak. 

He pushes your thigh flat to the bed. 

You feel the heat of your excitement start to grow. Your stomach aches with the want to be touched. 

"You're like a space heater, you're that warm," Eddie says, hand coasting down the inside of your thigh. He squeezes until fat melds under his fingers. "Are you scared?" 

His whispering in your ear, his hand as close as it is to where you want it, it winds you up like a coil. You sigh as his thumb strokes the edge of your panties, sound coloured by an awful, devouring desire. 

His face presses further into yours in reaction. 

His touch is like the tide. He wades in, away. His thumb strokes inward over something soft and then his whole hand moves back to your thigh. 

"Teasing," you utter. 

"A little… Why, is there something you want me to do?" 

His clueless whispering is infuriating and exciting at the same time. Your heart races and you can't discern if it's more lust or love.

"Touch me," you plead, pouting, knowing he's a pushover.

Anticipation stabs like a needle in your tummy as he slides his palm over your cunt completely. He rubs a careful, almost casual rhythm into your panties with the breadth of his fingers, lips kissing a lazy stripe up to your forehead, where he rests his face. You both watch his hand move past the valley of your rising chest. 

"M'gonna pull these off, yeah?" He sits up, fingers pushing under the sides. "Lift your- yeah, thank you, sweetheart." 

You buzz with his pet names, his soft voice, the feeling of your panties sliding up to your knees and his gentle exhale. You swear you can feel it fan over your slit. "Shit…" he moan, pulling at your spread cunt. 

He looks like he's in pain, eyebrows pinched together and murmuring curses as he circles the wetness gathered at your entrance. You turn your head searchingly as he starts to ease his index finger inside your heat, a gentle probing. 

One becomes two. He muffles your sighing with firm kisses, amorous praises, "That's it, baby, relax," as he works you open, fingers wet with slickness but not enough. He changes his position, pushing his middle and marriage finger inside and curving as his thumb slides up your slit looking for the bead of your clit. 

Slow, slow circles. "There, huh?" 

You shiver as he pushes in deeper, fingers as far as they can go. He spreads them wide, drops reassuring kisses all over your face when you keen. It's so new to have him kiss you at all, and to have him touching you — you're melting into nothing right there in his hold. 

"I got you. Tell me if it hurts, okay?" 

"Want you to- I want you to fuck me," you murmur, arms wrapping around him so you can hide your face in his neck. 

"Fuck. Fuck, baby. Gonna fuck you just as soon as I can fit," he murmurs back, sinking three of his thick fingers into your snug cunt. He pulls wetness out with every thrust, a line of slick dribbling down onto the sheets underneath. He wipes it upward and pushes it back inside, his chest heaving. "Y'so tight, gotta take my time. Take our time." He rubs his nose against your head until he can kiss the highest point of your cheek. "Make sure you can take it." 

"I can." 

It doesn't bear repeating how quietly you're speaking, a mouthing inaudible under the wet, rhythmic thud of Eddie's pinky finger slapping your sticky cunt as he ups the pace of his finger-fucking. 

"I don't think so," he coos, pulling his fingers from your cunt and making a show of spreading them wide. Your slick ribbons between them, almost invisible in the dark. "Ruin your sheets before any of that, maybe." 

Eddie sits up and gets his hands under your armpits. You laugh as he tugs you up so your shoulders are on top of the pillows, but you don't have time to be confused. He quickly moves to kneel at your feet and pulls your leg over his shoulder, your back lifting unevenly from the sheets. 

He starts with a sweet kiss pressed to the skin closest to his mouth, your lower thigh, and then works his way up, open mouthed, barely kisses at all until his hair whispers against your sensitive cunt and he's nipping at the stripe of skin between your thigh and the place where you most want his attention. 

"Pretty," he says into your damp skin, lips shining. You reach down to stroke his hair behind his ears, worried he's gonna get it dirty. 

He looks at you from between your thighs, his eyes dark in the dim light, their lashes long and soft where the outermost flutter into your skin. He's lovely. 

He holds your gaze as he pulls back to your inner thigh. "Pretty everywhere," he says salaciously. 

His lips part over your skin and you think he might bite you, a bruising hickey, but he pushes you down flat to the bed by your hips and kisses your clit, a simple kiss. Your fingers weave deeper into his hair. Your fingernails scratch lightly against his scalp, every tiny lick or kiss reflected in the minute tightening of your hands. 

He goes slow, mouths down, kisses wetter and wetter as he reaches your entrance. "Poor girl," he murmurs, hands pulled down to further scandalise. He sinks two fingers inside and laughs into your cunt. You squirm. 

"What happened? You're dripping on my fingers." Your thighs draw closed around his head as he curls his fingers against a soft spot.

"Eddie, can you-" You swallow. "Please. Please." 

He pries your thighs open and rubs them soothingly, lapping at the heat of your cunt in face of your pleading. His tongue appears broad and flat up the centre of you until he's kissing on your clit, fingers pumping in rhythm. Your fingers work into his hair and he groans, the vibration enough to make you whimper under his mouth. 

He laps at your clit messily and you tip your head back, breath coming in tight pants. You don't know what you say, only how you say it, desperate "please,"s and keening "Eddie,"s. 

His thrusts grow in enthusiasm, fingers rubbing eagerly against something sweet. You pull your legs up and nudge his face to your cunt insistently, thigh shaking as you hold it up. Eddie doesn't need any more encouragement, his pretty pink lips suckling at your clit until you see stars. You make a pained little sound and try to move away from his kissing, startled at the intensity of your high. 

Eddie lets your clit pop out of his mouth with a lewd, slick sound, his hands moving under your thighs and pulling you closer. "Good girl," he says, rubbing his wet face against the inside of your thigh. He inhales hard as you are, though he pauses to kiss your kneecap and pat your leg. "Good girl, sweetheart." 

"I'm sorry," you say breathlessly, hands pulling his hair from his face. Pleasure rolls through you in hot waves. 

"For what?" 

"Tugging on your hair," you explain, shoulder pulled up to your cheek.  

Eddie kisses your tummy lovingly and climbs on top of you to do the same just under your chin. "It’s okay, sweetheart, I like that shit. That was good, huh?" he asks, lips dropping down to yours all wet and warm. 

He's not bragging, he's genuinely asking. 

You nod into his kiss, your hands coming up to his sides. You swear your ears perk up as he unzips his jeans and eases them down, a hand disappearing into the mess of fabric. He moans quietly at the first touch. 

You move his hair out of the way to watch. Eddie tugs at the length of his cock with a cruel hand, a short dribble of pearly precum sobbing down the tip and under his fingers. He spreads it as it goes, the slickness emphasising the ridges and veins of his cock. You can see it throb, if you look close enough. 

He sits back and eases his jeans and boxers down enough to reveal a thatch of curls that brush his hand with every pump downward. 

"You okay?" he asks, smirking. 

You pull your shirt over your head and your chest warms at his adoring smile. "Will you take off yours?"

He doesn't hesitate like you worried he might. He sheds his t-shirt, pulling the fabric over the back of his head and dumping it off the side of the bed. 

You take in his chest and it's abundance of ragged scarring still purpled with newness. He has a tattoo over his heart, a black whorl of legs and eyes. Fine dark hair crawls from the middle of his chest down his navel, joining with the thatch of coiled hair surrounding his aching cock. You shuffle forward and wait with two tentative hands held aloft until he says, "It's okay," before you touch him. You run your hands down the soft slopes of his waist. 

"Does it hurt?" 

"Not anymore." 

"Can I kiss it?" 

He snorts. "Prefer you kiss something else." 

That really makes you laugh. You dot a kiss against his jaw and can't make yourself stop, dropping them all the way to the skin behind his ear. Your hand creeps lower as you go, held to the curve of his tummy. His skin is hot to touch the lower you go, and his stomach feels solid, a heaviness you know all too well. 

"Can I touch you?" you whisper into his ear. 

"Please." 

You drop your forehead against his chest and he brings his hand up to cup the back of your head. His cock pulses as you wrap your hand around it, skin smooth and slick as you palm slowly up and down. You watch in awe as a bead of precum wells at the tip, Eddie's rough breathing loud overhead. 

"Lie down, Y/N," he says, hand moving behind your naked shoulders. 

"What way?" 

"How do you want it, sweetheart? We'll do it whatever way you want." 

You think about it. Whatever way you want. No matter how indulgent, you know he means it.

"Will you spoon me?" 

He pushes you gently and follows behind, dragging your body into his front and angling your hips, cock hot and prodding your back. He gets his hand under your knee and pulls it up, splaying your cunt. You jump in surprise as he pushes his cock through your folds, tip rubbing against the still sensitive bead of your clit. 

Eddie wraps his arms around you, hugging you from behind. "You wanna put it in for me, baby?" 

You reach between your bodies and take his sticky cock into your hand, shifting until the head nudges against your hole. He sinks in inch by inch, arms tightening around your waist and grinding you down onto his cock until you're whimpering. 

You grab at his arms with your hands and tether yourself to him as he starts to rock his hips, his thrusting tender and his face turned into your neck. 

He presses his hand flat to your abdomen, an anchoring point as he moulds your weepy cunt around his length, each slovenly movement into your heat spreading you that little bit wider. 

"Fuck," he says finally, sounding seconds from a black out. "Oh, fuck- You're tight. Gonna fuck you open slow, okay?" 

You're pretty sure you'd let him do just about anything. You bring his hand to your mouth and kiss every white knuckle, every freckle you can see on the back, and when he bottoms out your cover your lips with his stolen hand to smother a tearful gasp.

Eddie's thrusts are spearing in their steady rhythm, a dirty slap ringing with every punching thrust forward. You curl in on yourself and hide your mouth in the sheets, wet pants smothered by fabric. Eddie's grip falls to your hip, where he pulls your body back and forces your cunt open even deeper. 

His cock pushes into your sweet spot sudden and emphatic. You moan and he stills, rutting into that same space without pulling out until you're babbling his name, body knocked forward with every thrust. 

Eddie turns your face toward him as much as he can without hurting your neck, your moans echoing in time with each thrust. "There you go," he says, "wanna hear how good it feels." 

If he cares that you can't answer him he doesn't show it, arm coming up under you arm to grasp at your chest, your breaststroke soft and aching under his hand as he squeezes tenderly. His cock kisses at the sweet spot inside you intermittently; you're dizzy with it. 

Eddie can't keep quiet either, his moans breathy, his breath hissing between his teeth when you clamp down around him. "Fuck," he begs, dragging his cock out of your heat, "fuck, Y/N." 

He says your name like the syllables alone are appraising. 

You can tell when it gets too much for him. He slows. His face drops into your shoulder, and he matches his pace to the wet kisses he leaves behind. Your wetness feels stickying, each of his thrusts snug. 

His breath hitches, ragged pants accompanying every slow push of his hips. "Where's my girl?" he asks, eyes still closed as his hand abandons where it'd been squeezing the bump of your tummy to search further downward, fingers disappearing into your folds, short curls wet with slick. He can't find any purchase. You roll your hips, chase his touch and the pleasure that comes with it. 

He groans into your shoulder. It sounds more pain than pleasure. 

"Are you okay?" you ask, trying to turn in his arms. He holds you in place. "Eddie?" 

"Yeah, fuck, I'm okay." He grinds up into your cunt. "Fuck, you're perfect." 

"Will you kiss me?" 

He does. It's nowhere near the bruising press you'd wanted. It's too careful. 

"Listen," he murmurs, "I'm gonna get you on your front, okay? Gonna make you feel so good," he promises, waiting for you to nod before he pushes your shoulder away from him and climbs up behind you. You lay flat on your stomach and Eddie settles on your thighs, a heavy weight. 

He pushes into your cunt with two fingers first, the new position allowing for a new pleasure. He pumps in and out and swaps his fingers for his cock quickly after, bearing the full weight of his body into your back as sinks to the hilt. 

You both moan in time, hands fisted in the sheets. 

He kisses your neck, lips parted, and his teeth feel so sharp that your heart sinks as it had in the bathroom. 

"Eddie-" you start. 

He pulls away, stops every movement. 

"Eddie," you say again. What are you supposed to say? You both know what he is. 

There's a lull where neither of you knows what to do filled by your too-fast breathing.

"I won't hurt you," he says, hands rubbing up the length of your back and then under. He holds a hand over your heart. He drops his lips to your back. "Do you want me to stop?" 

He must feel your pulse calm under his touch, but he still asks again when you don't answer. "Do you want me to stop? It's okay if you do. You're okay, baby, I promise." 

You steal a pillow from against the headboard and rise up on elbows. Your admission comes weak but completely honest. "Fuck me, Eddie, please... I want you. I want you-" Your murmuring's interrupted by a sharp breath as Eddie starts to move again, the head of his cock pushing into your cunt, a slick, perfect feeling. 

He moans from the back of his throat as his cock pushes into you again and again, hips smacking the dough of your ass as his pace quickens. You hug your pillow tightly, tears popping up in the corners as he ruts deep. 

"Being so good for me," he groans, clamped down on your hip with a vice-like grip. "Fuck, you feel so good. Fucking clinging to me every time I pull out, baby, Christ." His blasphemy is punctuated by a thrust that has you sliding up the bed, sheets wrinkling under your arms. You spread your thighs and wetness pools at your clit as his pelvis thrusts into you, driving pleasure so deeply it aches in your hips.

You moan pathetically and reach back to hold his hand, wiggling your fingers. He takes it in one and presses your arm against your lower back with the other, struggling to maintain a steady pace as he gets close to cumming. You're a babbling stream of sounds as he fucks in deep, swollen sweet spot tapped against mercilessly.

He throws himself back on his haunches, cock dragged out of your heat. 

You pull your legs out from underneath him and curl onto your side to watch, eyes wide as white spurts of pearlescence jump out of the head of his reddened cock and drip down the bumps of his fingers. He leans back, his stomach and thighs tensed with every pump. 

He groans through a smile, moan's coloured by a happy, relieved laughter. "F-uck," he drags, fisting his cock dry. 

He meets your eyes as the last of it slides down onto his stomach. 

You smile softly. "Fuck," you mumble. 

Eddie wipes his hand in his jeans like a fucking hooligan and tucks his cock back into his boxers with a wince, and then he collapses on top of you. He's sort of nice about it, his arm over your shoulder and his face behind your ear. 

"Fucking beautiful," he praises, dropping his head back on the bed so you're face to face. "You're so fucking pretty. So perfect." He kisses you. "You're perfect," he repeats, staring intently into your eyes. 

You pull a hand from between your legs, smelling of sex. Eddie literally couldn't care less if he tried, and he lets you take his face into your hand without complaint. 

He gets his arm under your arm and starts to rub your back. "You want me to take care of you again?" he asks, eyebrows raised gently. "Yeah?" 

And you would let him, you would, but you need to see them for yourself. 

You touch your index fingertip to his lip. 

"Can I see?" you ask. 

He loses his boisterous joy, tamps it down. He realises that he can't lie, that he hasn't been lying, and he nods. You tremble as you pull his lip up over his canine tooth, excited and scared.

A sharp, exceptionally white tooth pokes out of Eddie's gums. You're taken aback, though you'd known exactly what you'd find.

A fang. 

Blood oozes at the gums. 

"You're bleeding," you worry aloud, touching your finger to the dark beading at the base of his tooth. 

Eddie's eyes rove over your face thoughtfully. He pulls your hand away from his lip and sets it on his neck instead. "They always do that. The gum heals, breaks when they wanna come out." 

"How often do they come out?" 

"A lot more since I met you. Whenever my adrenaline spikes, they seem to think it's… feeding time." 

That is a dizzying thing to learn. 

edit

You're not sure how you feel, but you know one thing: he's Eddie. "It's too bad," you say, forcing a lightness that turns real more easily than you expect. "I really want to kiss you right now." 

He strokes your cheek with his thumb. "I really wanna kiss you too. Maybe a small one?" 

You find yourself leaning forward, unafraid. 

He kisses you once, twice, three times, the two of you holding each other's faces and covered in mess. Slick and sweat and blood. The hearts and stars from your lamp spray over his hip and paint him with pinks, greens, oranges, a rainbow cutting over his trim waist. You rest your hand overtop, feel his keloid scars like hills under your fingers. 

"My boyfriend's a vampire," you mutter, bemused at fate.

Eddie blinks at you. "I'm your boyfriend?" 

"Yeah, I think so. Don't you?" 

Eddie pulls you into his chest and doesn't let you go for a long, long time.

-

Your first time watching a blood sate is weird. 

For one, Chief Hopper is firmly against it. He's got his kid with him, the boy from the party that Mike had been so heavily doting on, and if he didn't you might think he was a pretty scary guy. 

"I think this is stupid," the chief says plainly. "I think this is stupid, I think you're stupid," — he points at Eddie where he's sitting sickly in the round couch — "and I think you're plain crazy, kid." He points at you last. 

You beam at him. "People have said that about me." 

His kid laughs. 

"Will," Hopper says tiredly, "go sit in the car." 

"Look, Chief, I know I messed up, okay, but she kind of stuck her hand in my mouth and I didn't really have a choice." 

Wayne looks at you with new eyes. "You did?" 

You nod at him faux-seriously. 

"And what gave her the inkling that you might have had something in your mouth worth looking at?" Hopper says, which is hilarious. You laugh behind your hand. 

He gives you a disapproving look that you completely ignore. If you'd taken notice of disapproval you would've stopped having this much fun years ago. 

"Uh, well, she might have… felt them?" His pitch rises. 

Hopper looks like he's about to blow a gasket when Will says, "What was he supposed to do? Never talk to anyone new ever again?" 

"He did a lot more than just talk to me," you say. There'd been a fixed bike, phone calls, lots of sandwiches, bug hunts, an entire sketchbook full of drawings. 

"I told you to wait in the car," Hopper says.

Will grins and raises his hands in surrender. "Bye," he mouths. You wave. 

Hopper waits for the door to close before he continues. "I get it, when you're a teenager you think your hormones are the end of the world-" 

"I'm almost twenty three." 

Hopper pinches his hand closed. "But you do not understand the danger that you are creating here."

"Like a stake-ing," you whisper, very very quietly. Eddie's the only one who can hear you, and he laughs so hard he snorts. 

"I'm glad you find this funny." Hopper's tone could not imply the opposite any more. 

He hands Wayne a paper bag that audibly sloshes and stalks out, his anger a palpable cloud of steam rising off of his shoulders. Eddie seizes up beside you at the sound, lips parting as his fangs come through. You don't touch him because you value your blood inside your body, only slide away from him and smile. "You okay, handsome?" 

"Kid, maybe the chief is right. We don't know how Eds is gonna act with you here," Wayne says. 

You nod respectfully. You like Wayne, and he knows about all of this stuff more than you ever could. 

"No," Eddie mumbles, putting his hand out for you across the couch. 

You take it without thinking. 

Wayne sighs. You can hear him grumbling as he disappears from view into the kitchen and puts a pot on the stove. There's the sound of a bag being punctured with a knife, a wet slosh. Eddie's grip on your hand tightens. 

You're still fascinated that he even drinks blood in the first place. That's wickedly sickening. Wicked, because it's cool that he's a vampire, with his impressive hearing, senses and smell. But sickening, because if you had to drink a pint of blood every couple of weeks you'd throw up. 

"I read about a new blood-sucker." 

Eddie raises his heavy head. "Another bug?" 

"No, a finch! A vampire finch. They're really pretty, Teddy. They're small and brown with long beaks and they drink blood because there's barely any water on their island." You give him a loving smile. "They aren't parasites. S'just how they had to change to survive." 

He squeezes your hand, this time on purpose. 

"Are you gonna come and have it in here, Eddie?" Wayne asks, one last shot at separating the two of you.

"I'm okay," he says loudly. His eyes trace your smile. "Really." 

It can't be fun to have two people watch you drink a warm mug of blood, but Eddie finds it funny. He keeps laughing every time he brings the rim of the glass to his mouth. 

"I can't do it if you're looking at me," he says. 

Wayne rolls his eyes and looks away. You cover your face with both hands and part your fingers to spy on him through the gaps. He makes it look easy, draining the mug basically in one long pull, though his hunger turns violent as the cup empties. He chokes. Blood trickles down from one corner of his mouth. 

You automatically want to reach over and wipe it away. Wayne grabs your arm before you can and gives you a fatherly look that says, I wouldn't do that if I were you. 

"Shit," Eddie says, slamming his now empty mug down on the coffee table. It makes a grating sound like a ground mortar and pestle. He sits as far back on the couch cushions as he can, nausea clear on his face. 

"Deep breath," Wayne says. 

"Fuck, Wayne." 

"You're aces. Deep breaths." 

Your heart hurts watching Eddie like this. He covers his mouth with eyes closed tightly and breathes hard through his nose. Already there's colour coming back into his face, not a lot but anything is an improvement. He'd been practically grey. 

When Eddie pulls his hand from his mouth blood has spread over his lips and jaw. Your eyes widen.

"I'll get the shower running," Wayne says, slapping his knees as he stands. He stops before the hallway. "Good job, Eddie." 

The boy in question slouches into a ball on the sofa and nods into a cushion. You wait for the sound of Wayne pulling the shower cord that turns on the hot water before you stand up, head tipped to one side. 

"You okay, handsome?".

"Tired." 

"You want a hug from me?" 

"Is anyone else offering?" He opens one eye to peek at you and grins at your distraught expression. "I'm joking, I'm kidding. C'mere, before I start bawling." You sit and then flop onto your side, pulling your legs up next to his. "Such a frowny face." His voice is adorably tired.

"Better than yours. You look like someone from Night of the Living Dead, baby." 

Eddie's arm lies limp like a dead fish over your waist. "Lemme nibble on your brains," he says, words thick as dark honey, eyes closed. "Just a snack." 

You're waiting for someone to pull the rug out from under your feet. No way your boyfriend, your cries at the end of every movie, brings you flowers because he felt like it, won't step on cracks in the sidewalk boyfriend just skulled a glass of O-negative like it was a milkshake. 

You feel guilty as soon as you think about it. He's not confined to all his softest parts and he never will be. He's snarky and angry and loud. He plays guitar like a real rockstar and he doesn't take anyone's shit. He's a survivor. A glass of blood every now and then was never gonna stop him. 

You keep wondering if you should let him suck your blood. It could be hot. It could also probably be the worst idea ever, a relationship faux pas up there with proposing after a month or saying I love you on the first date. 

"What are you thinking about?" he asks. 

You brush the hair out of his eyes with your ring finger. "Embarrassing relationship fumbles." 

"Oh yeah? Like letting your girlfriend watch you drink human blood from a mug shaped like Woodstock?" 

"Least it wasn't Snoopy." 

"God forbid." 

"Is it always like this?" You stroke your hand down his face and rub along his jaw with your thumb. "D'you always get sleepy?" 

"Yeah." He turns his face so your hand covers his mouth. 

You've stopped wearing silver jewellery, your wrists bare besides the endearingly awful friendship bracelet he's constructed for you. Not a friendship bracelet, he'd corrected. You're not kissing other friends, are you? Because that's really gonna put a downer on this whole thing.  

You dip your forehead to his chin and the two of you lay there in silence. You can smell blood, a thick, metallic stick permeating every corner of the room. It's especially strong between the both of you. 

"Do you wanna bite me right now?" you inquire without opening your eyes. 

"Not really. Blood sate kicks in quickly. It's the worst for, like, the first ten seconds after. Now I wanna sleep, but Wayne's gonna make me shower." 

"Maybe I can shower with you." 

"I'm sure he'd jump for joy if you suggest it." 

"Really?"

Eddie kisses your hand. "No," he says with a giddy laugh. 

"I'll pretend I'm gonna sit on the toilet. Keep watch." 

"How will you stop your hair from getting wet?" 

"I'll lean out." 

Eddie laughs even more than he had been, peeling laughter that warms you from the inside out as he kisses your hand again. "That'll definitely work." 

Wayne clears his throat. 

"Shower's hot. I'm going out. For an hour." Eddie perks up. His uncle looks him dead in the eye. "Don't make me regret this." 

And while Wayne had been under the impression you and Eddie were gonna have some grown up fun together in the shower, what you really do is an innocent act of affection: you wash Eddie's hair. 

"You have to lean your head back," you chide. 

"I am." 

"More than that." 

"There's no room." 

You're lucky you both fit. You're freezing standing behind Eddie, the only relief the warm water that trickles down from your hands to your elbows as you draw circles in his scalp, working the shampoo into a fine lather. 

"How did you get blood here?" you ask, scratching rusty flakes from the hair behind his ear. 

"I don't know. It gets everywhere. Like eyeshadow." 

You push your chin over his shoulder. "You wear eyeshadow?" 

"For shows." 

"Really?"

"Is it hard to believe?" 

You encourage his head under the water and rake your hands through his curls, encouraging the soapy water down to the ends with patient hands. "Lip gloss too? Hey, can I do your makeup?" 

"Maybe tomorrow," he bargains. While the shower has helped to wake him up, lethargy remains thick and unshakeable as adamant. 

You kiss the wet ridge of his shoulder blade, picturing his pretty face decked out in dark liners and sticky balm. "Thank you." 

"I haven't worn any in a long time. Haven't played a show in a really long time." 

You wring the water out of his hair and search in the steam for his conditioner. It's mostly empty. "You could put on a show for me. I never got to see you play," you say, shaking it really hard. A dollop collects in your hand and you work the dregs through the ends of his long hair. 

"You want that?" 

"I think you're the best guitar player in the world." 

You're not joking. He's the best, and he plays guitar. And he's pretty good, semantics aside. You love sitting out on the porch with him and listening to him play old rock songs off the top of his head. You could watch his hands move over the strings for hours. 

"If that's the case, I can definitely put on a show. Make-up, costume, stage dives. The whole nine yards. Anything for my girl." 

You roll the ends of his hair between two coated palms and step back. "There. You have to let it soak in for a couple of minutes." 

Eddie turns with a grin, angling his chest and hair forward, away from the stream. 

"Whatever will we do?"

You wipe an escaped streak of blood off of his bottom lip and smile. "I have no idea." 

You kiss. Eddie leans down and you move up, damp noses glancing off of each other. You're used to short kisses, never enough to make his heart race in case it prompts an unnecessary appearance of his fangs, so when Eddie encourages your lips apart to wade in deeper you pull back questioningly. 

"Blood sate. I'm 'sated'. They won't come out." 

Your jaw drops. "For real?" 

He shakes his head with a pleased smile. "For real. Kiss me sick, sweetheart." 

You throw your arm around his neck and drag his face to yours, kissing with an ardency that both surprises and amuses him. He laughs into your open mouth until suddenly he's not laughing at all, only breathing, pushing against you with the same urgent force and the same adoring smile. 

"Does this mean you can give me a hickey?" you ask enthusiastically. Eddie has yet to give you a proper love bite.

He leans back under the show spray and pulls you in with him, laughing when you dissolve like rice paper in his arms, finally warm. There's never been a sweeter sound. 

/\^._.^/\

thank you for reading! | my masterlist | my halloween party

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[sigurdjarlson]

@owmyeyeballs

I was going to write a little here for backstory but then I ended up answering the question entirely and it won’t let me paste it into the box alskdkfkf so here :D

So I should probably explain more about how I see Jaina/Ladelia before I answer that ask like give some backstory so it doesn’t seem out of the blue

Like I headcanon they’ve been friends for a long time. They’ve worked together countless times (as much as any alliance PC has and more.)

The thing is Ladelia fell in love with her along the way and Jaina really has no idea. If she gets nervous and silly around her sometimes Jaina doesn’t really think much of it. It’s just Ladelia.

And along the way they did become good friends. Two super nerdy mages? No surprise there. Trading magic knowledge and eating mana buns? Hell yeah.

(Random but I love how they have opposite chosen elements. Fire - Ice)

She’s also there when she’s hurting so badly over Arthas in WOTLK. Ladelia can’t fix it but she can be there for her when she needs a shoulder to lean on. She can make her laugh or smile. That’s something right?

And Jaina did start to pull away (from everyone) after Theramore which definitely stung but Ladelia didn’t blame her. She just wanted her friend back.

If little care packages found their way to Jaina somehow..well, the fire elemental makes it kind of obvious.

And Jaina did genuinely appreciate it, she’s just hurting. Terribly. Probably cried on one of them at least once.

And of course Jaina getting with Kalec does hurt like hell but Ladelia has never really thought she had a chance with Jaina. So while it hurts she’s determined to just be the best friend she can be to her. It’s not Jaina’s fault she doesn’t feel the same and she’s never hold that against her or resent her for it.

She does get a bit grumpy with Kalec sometimes which is funny because she genuinely likes Kalec if you take out the whole Jaina thing. Nothing serious though just a bit of sass here and there.

They grow closer in MoP during the whole Garrosh debacle. She’s her right hand woman basically. And Ladelia is..sweet. She wears her heart on her sleeve. She’s open and it makes people want to be open too.

She’s just happy to give her a shoulder to lean on or even just sit with her for a while. A silent reminder she’s not alone.

Then of course Jaina goes awol during Legion and it’s another slap in the face but again Ladelia does not blame her.

(She was quite angry at Khadgar after Jaina left however and her and Diily got into it over the whole thing. It didn’t last long but she was intially pissed at the whole council)

Let me tell you she was thrilled when Jaina showed up in BFA. And man, she was ready to swoon (who wasn’t?) when she came in with that pirate ship and arcane cannons.

But Jaina hears about Teldrassil through The other leaders in that cinematic. (Her face There kills me :c)

And she does reach out to Ladelia a little but they didn’t have much time to bond over their shared trauma because Jaina got kidnapped.

And let me tell you Ladelia was furious (and so very scared). Even Diily and Alaluria we’re watching her (literally) roast people like “holy shit”

Admittedly Ladelia did not like Katherine at all at first. That’s not a surprise but when she agrees to go with her to find Jaina..she softens somewhat. She seems to want to make amends with her daughter.

She wants that for Jaina.

And she fights with a terrifying ferocity to get to her. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone with them including Katherine.

(Who has long since realized Ladelia is in love with her daughter but she says nothing. It’s not her place and why cause trouble? She certainly wouldn’t complain if she was interested though. She’s a really nice girl and it’s clear she loves her daughter very much)

So they have had their moments. She’s seen Jaina vulnerable and hurting before.

It is different this time though because it’s..all there. It’s all her scars ripped wide open for everyone to see.

And Ladelia doesn’t approach at first when they find her. She let’s Katherine and her have their moment.

Her heart breaks for her though because she’s seen how badly she’s hurting over the years but Jaina has never fully..shown it. Now she had no choice.

She does approach her when she can and they do have a long talk. About everything. If there are tears on Jaina’s part you can be sure Ladelia was crying too tbh.

Ladelia just wants her to know she’s not alone. It’s not her fault. It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

And she’s happy for Jaina too because she’s healing. Shes getting closure, mending her relationship with her mother and being accepted by her people again.

If the Lord Admiral has a #1 supporter it’s Ladelia tbh and Ladelia is one of the first people Jaina goes to when she needs things done. (And subconsciously if she needs a friend)

Honestly the horde is lucky Ladelia was not on that ship with Jaina in Dazar’alor because she would have wreaked havoc on anyone who even tried to touch her.

Horde soldiers everywhere would be like “I got that water elemental..but I also got third degree burns over half of my body”

She’s definitely first to defend her both physically and verbally. She’s very protective of her. She’s not normally a malicious person but she will bite your head off for talking shit about Jaina.

She tries harder than anyone to help the Kul’tirans tbh. They’re Jaina’s people. The same goes for Jaina’s family should they need a champion of the alliance.

I like to think sometimes they walk around Boralus at night, just talking or sit on the waters edge and just kind of enjoy each other’s company.

And you know Tandred sees Ladelia’s crush on his sister from a mile away just like Katherine but Katherine basically shushes him if he ever tries to bring it up.

Tbh if they did bring it up Jaina probably would be like ?? That’s ridiculous lmao.

Jaina really has no idea? It’s honestly a feat because Ladelia is about as subtle as a Tauren rogue.

Does she feel the same way even a little? I don’t know. I go back and forth on this.

Maybe. Maybe she doesn’t realize it quite yet. Maybe not

They have the same problem as Khadgar and Diily though.

Lifespans. Ladelia is..painfully aware of how short human lifespans are. She tries very hard not to think about it. Sometimes she finds herself so desperate to enjoy every second she has with her.

If Jaina wants something Ladelia will get it and oh you want to go here? We should go. I know you’re busy but..we should go.

She’s kind of hopelessly in love with her tbh.

And she’ll be her friend as long as Jaina will have her.

Diily genuinely likes Jaina for the record. She always has and while she certainly gets a bit protective when Ladelia is clearly hurting she wishes no ill will towards Jaina. It’s not her fault she doesn’t feel the same.

She’d gladly welcome Jaina into the family. She pretty much has been already. If Ladelia loves her..then Diily will take care of Jaina the same way she does them. She’ll defend her just as fiercely too because she’s defending her baby sister’s heart. (also she likes Jaina)

Alaluria doesn’t really think much either way about Jaina beyond “she’s a damn good mage” but she can see her sister loves her. Which is just bizarre to her but okay. (Always ready to give the tongue lashing of a century if she breaks her baby sister’s heart tho) she looks out for her for Ladelia’s sake. The same way she does it for Khadgar (for Diily) which means she makes sure they don’t die if she can help it alalskdkfk

Her main question is..Why do her sisters like silver haired human mages so much??

[gaywheesa]

SHIP 01

A/N: Hello!! Thanks for being my first ship request 💜

—

TWICE ❭ Dahyun

had a crush on you within a week of knowing you

told sana and chaeyoung about you all the time

you and dahyun became close friends in a matter of a couple months

but you were oblivious to the fact that dahyun liked you

swooned to her friends about how sweet you were

'they're just so perfect!!!'

tried to impress you by reading some of your favorite books

she knew she wanted to be your girlfriend when you helped her through a tough time in her life

dahyun confessed to you on a cold night when you were walking her home from the nightclub

when you told her that you felt the same, she immediately kissed you

and from there on out, you had been dating

she would be super in to reading after you showed her some cool novels???

she'd support you in your writing and would always hype you up about it

she's really supportive but sometimes you just love to baby her and she doesn't mind

GFRIEND ❭ Yuju

yuju was trying to focus on her career until you came along

she was always super focused on her work and then you just came and distracted her from day 1

she would always notice little smiles you would give her and then would overthink

'do they like me?'

eventually, yuju slipped up and let you know that she thought you were gorgeous

you continued dropping obvious hints to her, but yuju was panicked and didn't know how to take it

got somewhat shy after realizing that she liked you

but when you finally asked her out..... this girl

so hyper around you lol

really big on holding hands in public

likes holding your hands a lot.....

she says 'i love you' first 😔

DREAMCATCHER ❭ Handong

lemmie just tell you,,,, this girlie was soft for you from day one

she didn't tell any of her friends that she thought you were cute, but she was already crushing hard

you just had a charm about you and handong loved how sweet and kind you were

she always told people she wanted to marry someone who was caring,,, but she never knew she'd actually meet someone who was exactly her type and fit the preference of kindness

she saw you writing in a notebook and asked what you were doing

you showed her your writing and she KNEW,,,, she wanted to date you

she wrote you a cute little note and left it in your bag, and you finally found it and went to go ask her on a date

tbh handong would be the sweetest girlfriend ever

your relationship was full of caring for each other every single day and lots of kisses on the forehead

handong wouldn't ever grow bored of you, she loved you sm

LOONA ❭ Yves

wasn't afraid to show you that she liked you

flirted with you ALL THE TIME

called you cute every other day

finally you just confronted her and asked her why she was like thiS

but yves got nervous and lied, telling you that she flirted with everyone

you got a sad because you liked her a little bit, too but didn't let it get in your way

a couple weeks after, yves told you straight up: 'i like you'

you were taken aback but yves just went on with 'can i kiss you?'

and when you nodded, she kissed you of course

yves and you would probably be that ONE couple who just wouldn't stop being all lovey dovey everywhere you went

your friends would all groan like little kids when you two would kiss but you didn't care

MAMAMOO ❭ Solar

low key would be attracted to you at first sight when she saw you

she loved how gentle you were towards everyone around you

you were also pretty nerdy which she thought was adorable and wanted to get to know you better

it went on and on, just the two of you dropping huge hints but both being too panicked to ask the other out

eventually, solar would ask you on a simple coffee date and from there on the two of you built a strong relationship

you and her would always mix up your glasses,,, like she'd use yours sometimes by accident and vice versa and you just thought it was a cute thing you two did

solar was always there for you and you were there for her, and she'd listen to you ramble about anything for hours

she's the big spoon

[craby-bouquet]

True Beauty

Kim Taehyung x Reader

Fluff, College!AU

1.8k words

Anon Asked:

can I have a taehyung fluff! maybe college Au? he’s so incredibly cute & handsome I’m so gone 🤭 

Anon you can ALWAYS request for my bias! I love him fam woo! he surely is the cutest and so hanDSOME WOO anyways I hope this is okayy

I love this look on him so he's kind nerdy here imagine that cuz im swooning

Two hands slipped from behind and covered your eyes. Two hands you knew well, no one else’s hand were like his after all. Manly but gracious, strong and big yet tender.

“Guess who.” His deep voice, clearly grinning, said. The tone made him sound like a toddler… well he practically was a toddler. A voice you knew all too well, a voice you recognized as your boyfriend Taehyung’s. Even on the stressful day you were having, his voice managed to calm you down.

You pretended to think “Hm… It sounds like an incredibly handsome guy, only incredibly handsome guys have a voice like this…” you brought your hand up to your chin and made another sound like you were deep in thought.

Taehyung chuckled, your favorite sound in this world.

“Oh, maybe Jimin?” you said, teasing.

You were turned around to meet Taehyungs slightly disappointed face “You think Jimin is handsome?”

You chuckled “Oh Taehyung! My second guess.”

He looked shocked “Second?” he pinched you “How come Jimin is your first guess and I’m your second?” He laughed while pinching you over and over, making you squirm and laugh. People passing by looked at you two like you were absolute weirdo’s (which, let’s be honest here, was true) but you didn’t care.

You laughed “Stop! I knew it was you, I was teasing!”

He stopped pinching you and took you in his arms, burying your face in his chest “Good,” He panted, still laughing “I was getting worried I’d have to beat my best friend up.” He made punching sounds with his mouth and kissed your hair.

You wrapped your arms around him and closed your eyes “No, you’re the most handsome guy I know.” You two were silent for a moment, just enjoying each other’s presence, listening to the calm sound of the soft spring wind blowing through the leaves, birds chirping, people talking… but you interrupted that “Though you have to admit Jimin is really handsome.”

He pushed you back and tried to hide his smile from you, but he knew you were just trying to mess with him “I’m gonna kill him, be right back.”

He pretended to walk away but you stopped him by hugging him from behind “Don’t!” you laughed.

He turned around and picked you up bridal style, he did that a lot more than you tolerated “Anyways, I’m here for a reason other than getting betrayed by my girlfriend.” He started walking towards the building you were walking to before he put his hands before his eyes. Your dorm.

You chuckled again, he was good at making you laugh “Put me down Kim Taehyung”

He grinned devilish “Nope,” he made the ‘P’ pop “I will not. And you know why? Just because.”

He carried you all the way up to your room, you were followed by a few chuckling girls and lame jokes about sex. He had a key to your room. He came there all the time so, without the janitor knowing about it, you had the spare key to each other’s dorm rooms.

He sat you down on the bed and, thank god your roommate wasn’t here, sat down next to you. He sat down next to you? That wasn’t really what you had expected but alright. He was getting something from his bag while you sat up on your knees to place butterfly kisses on his neck. He chuckled at that and pushed you back to just sit on your butt again.

“That’s not what I came here for.” He said softly while looking into your eyes, face very close to yours.

You weren’t sure whether you had to be disappointed or not. But you decided it wasn’t really worth it and to listen to what he wanted to say.

He took his photo camera from his bag and put it on his lap. Taehyung was a third year photography major so he carried his camera everywhere. Even if the two of you went out or something, the camera was in his bag. You loved that, mostly because you could see him take pictures. He was so passionate about it, he saw beauty in the most bizarre things and even when you thought he was crazy for thinking something was worth shooting he took a picture of it and proved to you it was gorgeous. All in all: he was really good at it.

“I got a new assignment today and I need a model.” He smiled his boxy smile while looking hopefully at you.

You frowned “You want me as a model?”

“The most beautiful model of all.” He stuck out his tongue.

You pushed against his shoulder to hide your blush “You got tons of pictures of me.”

That was a thing you were sure of. He loved taking pictures of you. He called you his favorite subject and interrupted dates and conversations to take pictures of you because “the light was good” at a certain spot or “the scenery matched your outfit and make-up so well” or because “you just look so gorgeous today”.

“Well, yes. That’s true. But I’ll never have enough.” He pushed his glasses further up his nose up looked at his legs, which he had crossed.

“What is the assignment?” you said with a low voice while you crossed your legs too and brushed your fingers over one of his knees.

He made a thinking sound “Hm. It’s just an assignment. Nothing special. But the best will win a chocolate bar.” His eyes widened in excitement.

You chuckled and looked at his face again, his eyes had turned away “What are the specifics?”

He thought again, avoiding your eyes “Well… Since it’s the last project before summer holidays it’s nothing too specific…”

You chuckled and bend forward, turning your head so you could look into his eyes “You must have gotten some sort of keyword?”

He avoided your eyes nevertheless “Is that really important though?”

You stole a quick kiss “Yes.”

That made him grin cutely, you know, that one grin that shows his chubby cheeks, and he leaned in for another kiss. Probably to get your mind off of the question, you knew him well enough to know when he was trying to distract you. You turned your head away so his lips crashed onto your cheek.

He sat back looking disappointed and let himself fall back on top of your bed, legs still crossed “It’s an assignment about girls. Specifically girls with your hair color…” his voice was soft and it sounded like he was making it up as he went. But you decided not to question it anymore.

You circled your finger over his knee again “…fine. I’ll do it.”

He looked up at you “Really?” you nodded “Yes! Now I must win the price!” He jumped up and pulled you off of your bed running towards the door with his camera in his hand.

He didn’t have another period that afternoon but you would have a class at three, so you only had a couple of hours. But he took you on a walk. There was a park near campus, and the campus grounds weren’t so bad either. Every time he saw something beautiful he wanted you to do something with it:  “Could lay down next to that?”, “Can you stand in front of that?”, “Hug the tree?”, “Smell the flower?”, “Sit down over there?”, “Climb that?”, “Dance there?”, “Hold this?”—

“–Taehyung, I have to go to class!” it was the fifth time you told him and every single time before he had told you it wouldn’t take long anymore.

He looked up from his camera, slightly shocked by your outburst “Yeah… Yes, of course. I’m sorry.” He walked up to you, you were sitting in a tree, and helped you down, hugging you in the process “I’m sorry, I must have enough now. I’ll show you the best once tonight.”

You nodded, gave him a quick kiss and ran off.

He really wasn’t kidding when he told you the pictures were absolutely stunning that evening. You don’t know how on earth he had done it but everything about the five pictures he brought was perfect.

“They’re due next week so you’ll hear from me when we win.”

You slid through the pictures displayed on the screen of his laptop once again “I… I’m really impressed Tae. This is really good…”

He blushed and took the laptop from you “A beautiful subject makes beautiful pictures.” He said softly, half hoping you wouldn’t hear it. He wasn’t good at taking compliments, it made him feel awkward and kind of shy.

But you did hear it, obviously “A beautiful photographer makes beautiful pictures, don’t go turn this around.” You chuckled.

He stood up and put his laptop back in his bag to hide his blush. After that he swung the bag over his shoulder and kissed your forehead.

“I have to go now. Good luck with classes tomorrow.” His hand brushed over your cheek before he left your room.

A week or two passed when Taehyung came running up to you one sunny afternoon. A big, boxy smile on his face. You saw him coming but it still startled you when he caught you in his arms. He turned you around so he hugged you from behind.

“Taehyung!” you laughed “Now I can’t hug you back! What are you doing!?”

He didn’t say anything and just held a chocolate bar in front of your face.

You gasped and turned around in his arms “You won!”

“We won,” He corrected you “Yes!”

You kissed his smiling face “I” kiss “am” kiss “proud” kiss “of” kiss “you!” kiss.

He blushed and pushed you back a little so he could look at you, he was smiling proudly “And guess what else I got.” without letting you guess he continued excitedly while holding up two tickets to that new movie in the cinema you wanted to see.

“Really!?”

He nodded, if his head hadn’t been attached to his body you were sure it would have flown off “Yes. Tonight it’s you and me and a large bucket of popcorn.”

You were amazed that the teacher would have that as a prize, but little did you know this hadn’t been a prize. Taehyung had bought them himself.

He looked at your gorgeous face, smiling at the tickets you had taken from his hand, and was mesmerized by your beauty “I lied.” He said without thinking.

You looked up, confused “About what?”

“About the assignment. It did have a theme.”

You raised you eyebrows in curiosity “It did? What was it?”

He sighed and smiled slightly before pulling you close “The thing that is the most beautiful to us.”

masterlist

[writing0nc3again]

Who said anything about bed?

His wandering glances always made my skin hot, always made my eyes roll almost automatically. He refused to let me ever forget how interested he was. It always baffled me. The star basketball player, seemingly eight feet tall with perfectly toned arms and shoulder muscles that could make a straight man swoon. A charming smile that could get him out of any trouble, and clear blue eyes that always told a naughty story. He was funny, smart, athletic, and gorgeous – literally the total package, the perfect man. He could have anyone, and he was aware of it. Any of the girls interested in him, all braver than I, would flirtatiously drawl out his name as if to let him know how it would sound from beneath him.

But all he wanted was me. And I had zero intention of letting him get what he wanted. I’d heard horror stories of bets the hot, popular guys made with their friends about bedding that one girl every school has. I didn’t know if I was that one girl, I’d never paid any sort of attention to popularity or being liked. But if I went out with him and got brutally dumped for being too ugly or nerdy or fat I’d become that one girl. And even though popularity never meant much to me, staying in the shadows was always more appealing to me than being known.

But, alas, I was known. Many of my classmates would shoot me glares – the girls usually, the brave ones who wanted him more than I did. Others would look me up and down with confusion furrowing their brows – this look was more expected from the guys who didn’t understand why the crazy hot, smart, funny, charming, perfect basketball star would have any interest in me.

I had no special qualities. My cheekbones weren’t chiseled perfectly, my hair wasn’t sleek and smooth, my tits were hardly even large enough to hold up a pencil. My skin wasn’t clear, my wardrobe wasn’t anything to gawk at, and to top it all off I wasn’t tall and slender like the supermodels.

I’d never seen myself as unattractive, but I’d look up and down the halls and see all the girls who had more of the traditional traits of beauty. Girls with legs that stretched on for miles, with slender waists but full breasts and hips. Others with long, silky hair and cheekbones carved by the gods.

But for some unbeknownst reason he wanted me – and he always loved to make it clear how badly he wanted me.

-

“Hey E.”

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I felt him walk up beside me, completely towering over me.

“Yes Greyson?”

He hummed and took up a more permanent spot leaning against the locker beside mine.

“My name on your lips is divine. A breathier tone would be even better.”

My cheeks flushed.

He noticed, and smiled.

“What do you want, Greyson?” I smirked as I drawled his name out the way he’d requested.

He clutched his chest and I laughed.

“I’d love to take you…” he paused, “out tonight.”

He smirked.

“You are not ever taking me to bed, Greyson Turner.”

He laughed. I didn’t.

“Who said anything about bed?” he questioned. “I’d be much more a fan of bending you over the couch, or taking you against a wall…” He shifted toward me as he spoke.

I could feel his presence only inches from my body and my face got warm.

“Ever,” I choked out.

“At least let me make you dinner tonight.” His voice carried no hint of questioning.

I regained my composer at the drop of the innuendo.

“Not interested.”

I didn’t look up.

He didn’t like that, and my locker door swung shut with a flick of his wrist.

I spun on my heels to look up at him.

“Why?”

He smiled.

I didn’t.

“Why not?”

The first bell rang, and I immediately used it as my excuse to leave the conversation.

To my dismay, he fell into step beside me.

“I like you, give me a chance.”

I laughed dryly.

“Like me? You don’t know me!”

He seemed hurt by that.

“We’ve gone to school together for years, of course I know you.”

I shook my head and scoffed.

“Bullshit.”

He laughed.

“I know that you moved here in the eighth grade from New York because your parents got divorced,” he said. “I know you have an older brother who’s in college back in New York.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Those are both common knowledge.”

He shrugged.

“I know that you were very timid when you first moved here.”

“Woooow, all new kids are shy. Next.”

A smile had started to show on my face, but I made sure to keep it hidden from him. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re drawing all the time but you’re unwilling to show anyone your work.”

I shrugged and walked up to my classroom.

“I know you, Evelyn Burke!” he insisted.

I paused and turned to look at him.

“What’s my middle name?” I smirked.

“Rose.”

No hesitation.

I rolled my eyes and laughed.

“Fuck you, Turner.”

And I walked into the classroom.

-

Exchanges of Greyson proving he knew me continued. Everyday he’d find me at my locker or in the parking lot or walking into a classroom to tell me something he knew about me. Sometimes they were wrong – him trying to deduce a piece of my personality from our encounters. Others were true. Those facts ranged from completely meaningless, to some I was truly surprised he knew. My response was always the same: “Fuck you, Turner” with a laugh, and I remained unconvinced.

For a while anyway. The day the switch flipped he told me why I refused his advances.

“You won’t say yes because you’re scared of the attention. You’d rather be invisible than let anyone get close to you because you think they’d play some cruel joke on you. That you were the butt-end of a joke who now had to face the world.”

The moment he fell into step with me that day something felt different. He seemed so sure of himself. His confidence wasn’t cocky. It was just that: confidence. I couldn’t just brush off this statement like one of the trivial facts he’d spouted for weeks.

And something in my head clicked. Maybe he did know me. Maybe I wasn’t just another face to him. A lump had formed in my throat and caused a shake in my voice.

“Fu-uck you, Turner.”

I could feel the satisfaction radiating off of him.

“So, I’ll pick you up at six?”

I sighed.

“See you at six.”

And I walked into the classroom.

-

The date was… wonderful. Perfect, in fact. I never thought I could experience someone truly seeing me the way he did that night. He shook my mother’s hand, he complimented my appearance, he opened the car door for me. He did everything right.

We had a picnic on the roof of the building his dad worked in. The food was divine, and the view was better. We talked about everything he’d told me about myself, how accurate they were, how obscenely false others were, and why some of his lucky guesses made me laugh so hard.

We talked the entire night. At one point he started pointing out constellations and I felt like I’d been pulled straight from a shitty movie.

The drive home was an extension of the perfect date. We talked about the music that played, about the horrible radio commercials, and about our favorite kinds of cheese: brie versus gouda got into a pretty heated argument, myself of course being brie, as a civilized person would choose.

And then we pulled up to my house. And part of me felt disappointed.

“I had an amazing time.”

His smile showed how honest he was in the confession.

My cheeks blushed. “I guess I did too,” I replied, begrudgingly.

“I’d really like to kiss you now.”

His cocky confidence had returned, and I laughed.

“I don’t kiss on the first date, I’m not a harlot,” I responded, feigning insult. “Maybe after the next one.”

The cocky confidence changed to pure joy and I couldn’t help but smile, his damn grin was infectious.

“Friday at 8?”

And I nodded.

-

The dates continued, and feelings that once were only of mild annoyance grew to happiness I hadn’t felt in my life. I learned more about the basketball star than I’d ever dreamed. He was a photographer, but had been dragged into basketball young and fell in love with it, too. His time was balanced perfectly between school, basketball, photography, and me. And after a few months, the ‘me’ category grew, and the photography slipped.

Until the two were combined and I, nothing-special-mediocre-looks-Evelyn Burke became his muse. I’d never seen more pictures of myself in my life than I did in that first week of muse-dom. He praised my inability to pose like a model, and the ‘realness’ that I portrayed.

I thought he was just a horny high school kid trying to get spank-bank material. There was no way he could really see me as such an artistic subject.

There was a night these thoughts faded away. A night that I learned my image wasn’t just used for his own personal gratification.

We were alone in his house, his parents on a business-trip-turned-weekend-getaway. I was studying. Trying to better understand physics concepts that had no place in my brain. He was cleaning his cameras and editing some photos after he’d finished a paper; it was a reward of sorts.

He took a test shot to check the cleanliness of the lens. I’d gotten so accustomed to the click of the camera that it didn’t even phase me, and I didn’t look up.

Until I heard a soft intake of breath and felt the bed shift under me. My textbook was gently removed from my lap, and a hand was placed under my chin. And his lips were on mine.

In that moment, I didn’t realize why that photo had such an impact on him. He’d later share with me that the lighting was just so, my hair fell the perfect way, and the puzzled look on my face made the photo the best he’d ever taken. He was overwhelmed with joy and gratitude.

And then we were together. The kisses escalated from gentle and joyous to filled with love and lust. Shirts were shed, and hands roamed curiously; his much more confident and experienced than my own. Soft “I love you”s were muttered, and the only words spoken for a while.

Until he pulled away to look me in the face, and his words were only just audible.

“I want to taste you.”

Nervously, I nodded, my cheeks flushed bright red.

His lips kissed over my skin and I felt fire everywhere they touched. My neck, my collar bones, breasts, ribs, stomach. Lower.

With his head between my thighs and his talented tongue working magic, everything was a blur. I don’t remember gripping the sheets with intensity, but I remember my wrists being sore after from doing so. I don’t remember moaning his name, but his stories with a huge smile make sure I’ll never forget. I remember the pleasure. The knots in my stomach, the euphoria washing over me.

I remember looking into his devious eyes after, and the grin on his face as he wiped his lower lip before kissing me. I remember the taste on his lips.

And then I remember feeling closer to him than I’d felt to anyone before. He remembers the issues with the condom that caused him to laugh. But I just remember being held, being loved, and being fucked. 

[harrybutterflies]

The Nerd.

She was popular. 
He wasn’t.
 She liked parties.
 He didn’t.
 She was pretty.
 He was a nerd.
 She doesn’t notice him.
 He worships the ground she walks on.

She was everything Harry wasn’t and won’t ever be. Everything he won’t ever have and he knew that. A girl like her would never go for a boy like him. 
The thing was that he was in no way like the other boys in school. He was shy and liked reading. He often begins to stutter a bit when he gets nervous. He blushes a lot. He doesn’t play football. He’s never had a girlfriend before. 
And of course the cool boys noticed everything that was ‘wrong’ about him. They picked on him every chance they got. Mocked him for his habit of pushing his glasses up his nose. Laughed when the words wouldn’t roll off his tongue. Shoved him into the lockers whenever they would walk past him in the hallway.
The sad thing was that Harry didn’t defend himself. Ever. He just accepted the fact that he was awkward and nerdy and no one liked him. Especially not Y/N. What he didn’t know though was that Y/N did like him. Yes, she was popular and pretty and boys swooned over her but she didn’t want any of them. She knew exactly what those boys were after, a bit of fun but never anything serious. And frankly Y/N wasn’t into those things at all. She wanted something serious. Someone who would hold her at night and be there in the morning, waking her up with kisses and sweet whispers.
She wasn’t interested in those loud guys who were always talking and flirting and doing things she didn’t even want to know. And that’s why she noticed Harry. She liked his messy curly hair and his big, round glasses. She liked his green eyes and pink lips. She liked the oversized shirts and the jeans which were tighter than tight he was always wearing. She liked that he was shy and quiet. She liked that he was different than all the other boys.
What she didn’t like about him though was that he never stood up for himself. It broke her heart when she saw him walking in the hallway with his head down and eyes locked on the ground and getting shoved into the lockers. She absolutely hated the frown that would form on his face and how he would rub his arm from the pain.

Today it was especially bad. They mocked and laughed at him even more in class and actually insulted him. She saw the way his eyes welled up with tears but luckily he quickly hid his emotions or else it would have gotten even worse. She’s never been more grateful for lunch after that lesson, not only because she couldn’t listen to another word her history teacher said but also because she knew Harry couldn’t listen to another mean thing those guys said to him. 
Like always he was the last one to exit the classroom, getting a sympathetic smile from the teacher on his way out. He was glad when he saw that almost no one was in the hallway, he hurried to his locker and stuffed his things inside and just when he closed it he got smashed against it, his glasses falling to the floor from the force. He heard them laugh and calling ‘loser!’ after him. He sighed when he looked down at the ground and couldn’t see his glasses due to the blurriness of his sight.
“Here.” he heard a female voice and knew immediately who it was.
She gave him his glasses and their fingers brushed and Harry could feel a electric shock at his fingertip.
“Thanks.” he whispered softly because he knew he would have stuttered other wise. 
He was embarrassed not only because he knew that she saw how he got shoved against his locker but also because again he had tears in his eyes. It was just too much today. Just as he pushed his glasses up on his nose the first tear dribbled down his cheek.
“Hey.” Y/N whispered and reached up to brush it away. 
“Don’t let these idiots get to you, yeah? They’re just jealous.” Harrys eyes were glued to hers and his cheek burned in the most wonderful way from her touch. He couldn’t believe she was standing in front of him. Talking to him.
“Why should they be j-jealous?” he shook his head.
“Because they aren’t as smart as you. As cute as you.” His eyes snapped to hers and widened with shock. Cute? Cute?! 
“Um, well.” she mumbled blushing and looked down at the ground.
“Maybe you would want to get lunch with me? It always breaks my heart when I see you sitting alone.” she asked him hopefully.
“Don’t think thats a g-good idea. D-Don’t want them to p-pick on you as well.” he shook his head, silently cursing himself for stuttering.
“I don’t care what they say. They’re assholes. So what do you say?” 
“Y-You really want to spend time with me?” he studied her closely for any sign of doubt.
“Of course I want to.” she nodded and so he agreed. 
As they sat down across from each other, both with a chicken sandwich Harry couldn’t help but squirm. He felt all eyes on them, heard them talk.
“They’re staring.” he let her know quietly.
“Yep, ‘cause you’re cute.” she grinned at him.
Again, Harry blushed and he heard a few people laugh at the color of his cheeks. 
“No. Because I’m weird.” he mumbled.
“Harry, there is absolutely nothing weird about you.” 
God, she really knew his name.
“I actually really like you because you’re different. You’re not stupid like them.” 
And that was the moment he decided to walk past. He was Y/N’s ex. He was considered the most popular and handsome boy in school. He was the worst of them all.
“What the hell are you doing with him? Comforting him ‘cause he was about to pee himself 'cause someone was mean to him?” 
Harry didn’t say anything and looked down at the table, his shoulders heaving with quick intakes of breath.
“How about you shut up?” Y/N glared at her ex.
He laughed and left, but not before 'accidentally’ hitting Harry’s shoulder.
“God, he’s an asshole.” Y/N sighed. 
Harry didn’t look up from the table though, his eyes still set on whatever distracted him. The thing was that he wasn’t supposed to sit here. His place was in the corner of the room beside all the other nerds. His place was definitely not with her.
“Harry?” she asked him and touched his hand softly with her own.
Harry moved his hand to his lap so she couldn’t touch it, but the tingles the contact caused made their way through his arm nonetheless.
“A-Are you trying t-to make fun of m-me?” 
“What?” 
“This is f-fun for you isn’t it? Why e-else would you be h-here?” 
“Harry, no. No, no, no. I’m not trying to make fun of you. No the slightest bit. I’m here because I like you and because I see what these people do to you. I want to be there for you.” 
Harry knew he should shut up. His heart was screaming shut up, shut up, shut up but his brain simply couldn’t make any sense of the situation.
“Why? Why all of a-a sudden?” 
“Because I can’t keep watching them destroy you. You were crying today, Harry. They are hurting you. That needs to stop.” 
Harry didn’t say anything. He just stared at her. She was the girl of his dreams. He had a crush on her since year six when she had to give a speech in front of the class and was shaking so much she dropped her notes. She was the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. She couldn’t be serious.
“Just let me help you.”

And that’s how their friendship started. Y/N drove him to school every morning and didn’t let him walk in the rain. She sat beside him in class and went to lunch with him. She glared at everyone who made fun of him. Yelled at those who were mean to him. 
And Harry was happy. Over the moon even. The mean comments stopped, the bruises on his arms faded and he had a friend. Y/N was an absolute sweetheart and made him feel so loved and cared for.
Only that she didn’t care for him the way he cared for her. He had a crush on her before he knew her and now that he knew her he fell in love with her.
And she would never do that, he was sure of that. She might like him but that’s it. She might find him cute but nothing more.
Harry was fine with that as long as she would stay by his side. She made him happy, made him laugh and made him feel all warm inside. 
What was hard for him though was that she was so affectionate. She loved to play with his hands because they were so soft and warm and big and she just loved to hold them. She loved to hug him and she was one of those people who use their whole bodies while hugging, and Harry loved it. She loved to kiss him too, on his nose and cheek and shoulder and knuckles and just everywhere.
And she caught on to his reactions. How he would blush and squirm slightly whenever it got a bit too much for him and every time she watched with delight. The thing was that she liked him a whole lot. So much that she was sure she was falling for him. She loved his little quirks and how awkward he was. She loved his shyness. She loved everything about him that he hated.
Even though she kind of knew he felt the same way about her she was scared to do anything about it. She knew Harry had no experience with girls. She knew that he had no idea what to do and she was scared that if one of her kisses landed near his mouth he would run away.
It was difficult. So, so difficult. She was scared and he was shy. Where was this supposed to go? 
When Y/N was ill for a day because of bad stomach cramps and didn’t come to school Harry wasn’t concerned about him in the slightest but more for her. During the day he noticed though that he should be concerned. The boys treated him like they did before he got Y/N as a friend, if not even worse. He had a cut on his arm from where he got shoved against the lockers so hard that the metal sliced through his skin and he was feeling dizzy from all the insults he had to listen to. It’s never been that bad.
And once he arrived at Y/N’s place with ice cream and heating pads and saw her lying in her bed, her eyebrows furrowed due to the pain he couldn’t stop his tears. They streamed down his cheek and sobs rocked his body and it was all too much. He dropped to the floor and hid his face in his hands so Y/N couldn’t see how weak he was.
For Y/N he wasn’t being weak though. For her he was the strongest person she ever met. She made her way to him and enveloped him in a tight hug, swaying their bodies from side to side.
She tried to calm him with little 'shhh’ sounds and kisses but it took time for his tears to stop streaming down his cheeks and his sobs to die down. But once they did he wrapped his arms around her body and hugged her tightly to his chest. He nuzzled his face into her neck, breathing her scent in and pressing one single kiss to her shoulder. He never did that before, never kissed her before. It was always her who kissed him but he never returned her displays of affection. Not that he didn’t want to but he was nervous. Her kisses made him nervous as well as how close she would be when her lips puckered into a pout to press against his skin. 
What Y/N didn’t know or didn’t notice was how his breathing would quicken when she got close to him. Sometimes he would gasp slightly for breath and sometimes he needed his inhaler. Lately more often than not.
That was another reason why he wouldn’t kiss her. How awkward would it be if he tried to kiss her and then he couldn’t get any air in his lungs and-
"Harry? Harry, hey. I can feel you panicking. C'mon let’s lay down.“ Y/N spoke softly to him and reached out her hand to help him up off the floor. 
Harry lied down in her bed and almost moaned at the smell of her pillow, he loved her shampoo. Y/N lied down beside him and cuddled herself against his chest, wrapping one arm around his waist. She kept her other hand in his hair, scratching his scalp and running her fingers through his soft curls. 
When she tried to get closer by lifting his arm and wrapping it around her body Harry hissed and Y/N knew it wasn’t because she grabbed him to hard because she never touched him with anything but love. She sat up immediately staring at Harry with shock.
"Show me your arm.” she told him gently but with force behind her words.
"I-It’s nothing, really. J-Just a scratch. You know Kitty jumps at m-me sometimes a-and she d-did earlier.“ 
"Harry, show me your arm.” 
Harry closed his eyes briefly and sighed. He sat up and pulled his oversized pullover off his body. She heard her gasp as she saw the cut. It wasn’t bad or too big but it did look a bit scary.
"What happened? What did they do to you?“ she whimpered and traced her fingers over the wound.
"The usual.” Harry shrugged and looked down.
"Oh, darling.“ Y/N cried and hugged him again, so tightly this time that Harry had trouble breathing properly.
"S'okay.” he mumbled into her neck. 
"Was just a bit m-much today. You weren’t there and I-I missed you and then they picked on me again a-and hurt me and then I s-saw you laying there in p-pain and it was just too much.“ 
She pulled back to look at him and stroked his hair from his face. She felt guilty. Guilty for leaving him alone when she knew exactly what would happen.
"I’m sorry. So, so sorry. I should have never stayed at home and-” 
"S'not your f-fault. You were in pain t-today and I wouldn’t have l-let you go to school.“ 
Y/N sighed and nodded before she dropped her head to press her forehead against his. Harry could already feel his lungs struggling and his throat getting dry.
"Harry, I have to tell you something.” she whispered softly and pulled back a bit.
She took his hands in hers and stroked over his knuckles before she intertwined them. Then she took a deep breath.
"I always found you cute, way before we became friends. I found it cute that you would blush a lot and stutter and I liked it that you weren’t as stupid as those other boys. It always broke my heart when those guys were mean to you and I absolutely hated how your eyes would turn sad and how your hands would begin to shake. And once we became friends I found you even cuter. I love how quirky and happy you are around me. I love how I can make you blush and squirm when I kiss you. I love to make you giggle. I love how caring you are. I love how sweet you are. I fell in love with you, Harry. And I would really like it if I could hold your hand in school and hug you in front of everyone without you pulling away because you worry they’ll talk bad about me. And I would really like to kiss you on the mouth. And I would really like to make out with you. And-“ 
"I love you, too. I-I love you so goddamn much. I’ve been in l-love with you for s-so long but never did anything because I was so s-scared but I love you. So much.” he blurted out and grinned at her with the brightest smile she ever saw.
She grinned right back and hugged him quickly, giggling softly into his neck. Then she pulled back and cupped his face in her palms, stroking over his skin softly before she leaned down and pressed the softest kiss ever to his lips. She pulled back a bit to see his reaction, his eyes were wide with shock and his lips parted. She touched her lips to his again, this time with a bit more force and longer, lingering against his. When she kissed him for the third time she suckled on his bottom lip gently and that was too much for Harry. His heartbeat increased even more and his lungs felt like they were cramping, loud gasps leaving his mouth and panic flashing over his face. Y/N got up from his lap immediately and reached into his backpack, searching for his inhaler. As soon as she had it she shook it and pressed it to his lips, Harry breathing in and immediately feeling relief wash over him. “Better?” Y/N asked when he visibly calmed down and could breath almost normally again. “Yeah.” he croaked out and closed his eyes for a moment to concentrate on his breathing. Y/N rubbed his back in soothing circles, careful not to get too close to him so he wouldn’t start panicking again. “What happened?” she questioned when he calmed down completely. “Dunno.” he shrugged. “Harry…” “Always happens when y-you’re close to me. Makes m-me nervous and then I-I can’t breath.” he sighed, his cheeks tinting pink. “Is it because you don’t want me close?” she wondered. “No, no. I want you c-close. All the time. B-But it’s the same with m-my stuttering, just happens.” Y/N nodded and thought for a moment, her bottom lip bitten between her teeth. “You should have told me you weren’t ready to kiss yet.” “But I wanted to k-kiss you. I just n-never kissed anyone b-before so I d-don’t know what to do. Don’t want to e-embarrass myself.” “Harry, you have nothing to worry about. It’s just me. It doesn’t matter if our teeth clash or it’s a bit sloppy. As long as I get to kiss you everything’s perfect.” she reassured him and stroked his cheek. “M-Maybe…” “Hmm?” “Maybe w-we could try again? Without a panic attack?” Y/N giggled and nodded, swinging one leg over his so she straddles his lap again and was in perfect position to kiss him again. She cupped his cheeks and leaned in slowly, kind of letting him get used to the idea of being that close to her. Once their noses brushed she rubbed the tip of hers against his in a eskimo kiss before she tilted her head to the side and finally connected their lips. This time Harry followed her movements, doing what he thought he was supposed to do while kissing her. And Y/N appreciated him kissing back and wrapped her arms around his neck to get him closer. She let him catch his breath then, making sure he was still okay. And he was. He definitely was okay. He searched for her lips again as soon as she pulled back, pressing his lips to hers again and letting his feelings for her take over. The kiss was so intense that it sent electric shocks through both their bodies, their toes curling.

Once they both ran out of air because they kissed each other’s breath away the pulled back and smiled at each other with dopey smiles. “Are you sure that was your first kiss?” she teased him. “Pretty sure, yeah.” “Then you’re a natural.” “Think I need more practice though.” he grinned cheekily at her and kissed her lips over and over again. Y/N squealed with joy, giggling against his mouth. He didn’t stutter the last time he spoke and even though Harry paid no mind to it because he was too busy kissing his new girlfriend Y/N noticed. She also noticed that he wasn’t scared to embarrass himself anymore while kissing her, he let go of his fears and that was everything Y/N ever wanted him to do. And she was more than happy that she was by his side during his journey.

[kowlsy2]

y'all know that trope about two friends getting married at 35 bcs theyre still single? Heres my take on it w/ the dream team. Lets be real these three would get married for a meme. (posted on mobile if formatting is weird)

--

Okay, if Dream was being honest he barely remembered the conversation. Him and Sapnap were still using skype for god's sake, it happened a long time ago. Sapnap had gotten on, quiet, and just seemed out of it.

(or had it all been a joke? a stupid joke between middle schoolers??).

How it started didn't matter. The ending was the same. They were so young, but already Dream worried too much about looking cool- about looking 'right'. About not being the nerdy boy who didn't talk to girls and spent all day hutched over a computer in some dark room while his cooler classmates did all the stuff they talk about in books and movies, coming of age, whatever.

If they were both single, hopelessly single, when sapnap turned 25, they would get married.

"Ew dude dont be gay"

"I'm not gay!! I'm just saying if we got married then we could meet! and then like, I don't know help each other get girls. We wouldn't like, actually be married, it'd just be paperwork."

"Sure dude, whatever. Lets get married if we're still single in a decade and a half. theres no chance."

What a stupid meme.

--

It was a bit more of a big deal with George.

Dream never asked George about his love life-- it seemed insensitive honestly. He knew, or basically knew, that George had never really gotten close with girls. It wouldn't surprise him at all if George hadn't even had his first kiss yet. No girlfriend, no date to formals; nothing.

They were older now, Dream had been doing online school for a year at this point, George was going to uni, they were growing up. They spent more time talking then they didn't; but Dream never brought up his fumbling attempts at kissing, dating, even that ill fated attempt at 'more' at that one party.

But george brought it up, late at night, quiet as death.

"I think I'm going to die alone."

The words were funny. His tone was not.

"What are you talking about?"

"I think I'm never going to have a girlfriend."

"Did something happen? Dude that's ridiculous."

"Is it? I'm 20 and I've never had a girl even like me. I just don't think I'll ever find someone that likes me." A pause. "Nothing happened, in particular. I just was thinking about it. I'm just like- I don't know- I thought for a little that I was just going slowly, but now everyone I know, even people younger than me, everyone has had girlfriends, and sex and I'm just. Not. Doing that. No one wants to do that with me."

"I'm sure thats not true!"

"Yes it is! All the girls here, they want to date cool dudes, dudes with experience, who don't have fucking minecraft server staff meetings on friday nights instead of going out to clubs and whatever."

"Like you'd even want to date a girl who goes out and gets trashed on a friday night."

"I'd date anyone at this point. but no one would date me, much less like, marry me."

"Marry you? Dude what are you talking about, marriage is like, so far away from us"

"Not really Dream. My mum got married a year after she graduated uni, thats only a few years away. Most people get married in their 20s, and I can't even get a single date with a girl."

"Dude, worst comes to worst, if you're like, 29 and still single I'll marry you."

"Please don't joke about this"

"I'm not! If we are both single, and you're almost 30, and you still haven't found a girlfriend, I'll marry you, and they you can come live in the US, easy, and all the girls will love you for your accent if nothing else"

"ha ha ha"

"Oh, don't you be sarcasitc. I'd marry you and we could just like, be friends, and live together, and it'd be so much fun. I'd totally do it."

"oh yea, and our youtube channels will have 3 million subscribes each, and minecraft will be more popular than fortnite again."

"Georgeeee just say youllll marryyy mee"

"Fine. If I'm still single in 8 years lets get married Dream."

It was barely a meme this time. But it worked.

--

He never should have included the bit with the berries in the final video. Sapnap and George had just been so funny, it felt wrong to cut it out. Dream sometimes worried that viewers didn't understand George and Sapnaps relationship, thought that they were just both his friends, so they hung out together, but this clip finally showed that they had their own relationship, their own friendship outside of him.

Even as he was touching it up he knew he was letting them outshine him in his own video. Now it felt like the meme followed him everywhere, cutting him out of the punchline, even in his own streams.

"George! Thank you so much for grabing this bonemeal for me!"

"oH you're so welcome Sapnap! Anytime!"

"Wow george you're so kind and generous!"

"Sapnap you're so polite! and it's such a good job you're doing with the farm!"

"Thank you so much George! I'm so glad you've taken the time to let me know that I'm appreciated!"

Dream had to do something before the entire stream got derailed; he had a goal and he wasn't going to let his idiot best friends upset if.

"yes yes you're both wonderful people, so generous, ladies they are single."

Oh my god how didn't I notice! George, you're like, perfect husband material!"

"Sapnap youre also going to be amazing husband, so kind, and hardworking and-"

Chat was in shambles, Dream would need to act fast if he ever had a chance at getting them to stop.

"well if you're both such good husband material why don't you marry each other?"

That would stop them in their tracks.

"Oh Dream that's such a good idea! Sapnap, love of my life, will you marry me?"

Or not.

(Dream always forgot how much more confident George was when he wasn't the one streaming)

"Oh George! Yes! a million times yes! As soon as you come to the states!"

The meme was much funnnier this time.

--

It may have been a stupid idea. A face reveal, and a meet-and-greet and meeting George and Sapnap in person for the first time, all at the same time.

But hey, Dream wasn't famous for forthought. He was famous for cluches.

By this point (5 million subscribers oh my god) George and Sapnap getting married had been a well established meme.

Him and George hadn't ever talked about That Conversation again, but sometimes, he'd send george funny articles about people marrying to get green cards, or videos of american women swooning over British accents. (it still wasn't that much of a meme, but it seemed less likely now. They had all grown so much, become so much more sure in themselves), and sometimes George sent them to Dream as well.

He had forgotten about his conversation with Sapnap, years ago, before it all started.

But before leaving for vidcon he needed something soothing, something mindless, so he had been sorting through old accounts, deleting anything he hadn't used in years.

And he found his oldest skype account.

Of course all three of them had planned to get married to each other, like something out of a shitty fanfic.

But that didn't mean it wasn't funny.

So he bought them matching rings.

Sue him. He had the money.

Dream had planned to do it at his face reveal, but, it got much, much too chaotic fast, and he didn't think fake proposing to his two best friends would calm people down.

So he did it afterwards.

I mean he already had the rings.

"What is this?"

"Relax, dude, its a joke--mostly."

"What??"

Okay maybe it felt a little stupid when they were both looking at him.

"okay so basically-- I was looking at super old skype logs, and Sapnap, Nick, whatever, do you remember like, back in like 2014, we were both like, freaking out about not having girlfriends"

"oh wait-- yeah--"

"--so we said that if we were both single when we were 25 we would get married?"

"yeah, to like better be wingmen or whatever--"

"--so basically, here you go."

Dream slides the first box across the table. It has a ring in it, 2 rings of plain gold with a pressed ring of volcanic glass-- obsidian-- in the middle. He has a matching one on a chain around his neck, hidden, and a third in the box sitting in front of him.

He slides it over to George.

"and George I figured that all of our schemes about marrying so you could come live over here--"

"You guys were planning what?"

"-- and I think that you probably don't need to do that anymore, but I thought you might need this too. If you ever need a reason to stay in the states, well, there you go."

God he was awkward in real life.

"I don't know what to say--"

"God don't say anything-- Especially not on twitter-- But. Just. Thank you, so much. For being my friend. I can't marry both of you, and honestly, I'm pretty sure I should just wait and marry a girl for real, but. I'm so glad you both are in my life, and I hope you both stay in it for a long time. Like marriage or, something like that."

It's not a meme at all this time.

[dazzledbybooks]

Multiple award-winning young adult author Sara Ella reimagines The Little Mermaid in a powerful and unexpected way. Sixteen-year-old mermaid Coral has always been different, standing out from her stoic sisters in a society where blending in is key. Worse yet, she fears she has been afflicted with the dreaded Disease. Said to be carried by humans, the Disease imposes emotions on its victims, causing them to commit unspeakable acts. The growing illness inside her, while terrifying, fascinates her very core. Where others see danger, Coral sees life. Could it be the colorless merfolk who are truly ill? Above the sea, seventeen-year-old Brooke Jordan has nothing left to give. A homeless girl abandoned and forgotten, the only thing Brooke can rely on is the ocean. Her aching feet find refuge within the cool and comforting waves, while her broken heart grows harder with each passing day. When Brooke's and Coral’s worlds collide, everything alters in an instant. From learning to stand alone, to discovering the strength it takes to rely on another, the girls find that living requires taking that first painful breath. Each must make sacrifices, and when it comes to finding true love? Let’s just say the boys in their lives must learn to swim if they’re ever going to survive the storms. Battling the odds against them, the girls will do whatever it takes to survive. But what must end for love and life to finally begin? Taking a new twist on Hans Christian Andersen’s beloved fairy tale, this modern-day story explores mental health from several perspectives, questioning what it means to be human in a world where humanity often seems lost. Coral by Sara Ella Publisher: Thomas Nelson Release Date: November 12th 2019 Genre: Young Adult, Fantasy, Retellings, Mermaids, Fairy Tales Book Links: Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/42772077-coral Amazon: https://amzn.to/2UWMpOs Bookdepository: https://www.bookdepository.com/Coral-Sara-Ella/9780785224457?ref=grid-view&qid=1555188471888&sr=1-1 B&N: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/coral-sara-ella/1129853326?ean=9780785224457 Kobo: https://www.kobo.com/gb/en/ebook/coral-5 iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com/mt/book/coral/id1441925208?mt=11 Google Books: https://books.google.co.uk/books/about/Coral.html?id=vC55DwAAQBAJ&redir_esc=y Review: Coral by Sara Ella is such a great book. I really enjoyed these characters. This story is so beautiful and heart breaking. When everything comes down to it, this is a story of love. I love that Sara Ella was able to bring up such a delicate subject as depression. Sara Ella wanted to be sensitive towards people with this dark subject matter that she put a trigger warning out there for people. Coral is more of a reimagining or a book inspired by The Little Mermaid rather than being a retelling. This book is so much more than The Little Mermaid. These characters were so easy to care for. I wanted everyone to succeed. I felt like this book really dug deep. It will definitely cause the reader to be emotional with what is going on. I honestly think this book is so much more than a reimaging. It is the gateway to talk about some really sensitive topics. I think Sara Ella did such a good job with this book. I would jump to reread it but it was so emotional that I am going to have to wait a bit before I can reread this book. I definitely think it is worth another read for me. Thank you Sara Ella for writing such a thoughtful thought provoking book. About the Author: Once upon a time, Sara Ella dreamed she would marry a prince and live in a Disney castle. Today, she spends her days throwing living room dance parties for her two princesses, raising her little prince to be a king, and conquering realms of her own imaginings. Oh, and her husband is definitely more swoon-worthy than any Prince Charming. Sara’s UNBLEMISHED trilogy has received high praise and multiple awards, but none as rewarding as the love and support she receives from her readers every day. Her new story CORAL, a reimagining of THE LITTLE MERMAID, releases in the fall of 2019. When she’s not on deadline, Sara Ella can most often be found fangirling on Twitter, Instagram, or her YouTube channel. She may or may not be obsessed with #Bookstagram, and she has a serious condition known as “Coffee Snob-itis.” She believes “Happily Ever After is Never Far Away.” Author Links: Website: https://saraella.com/ Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/14831545.Sara_Ella Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/writinghistruth Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/saraellawrites/ Twitter: https://twitter.com/saraellawrites Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCz5T9Tp6cXUAHro86jpflww Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.es/joellesa/ Tour Schedule: http://fantasticflyingbookclub.blogspot.com/2019/10/tour-schedule-coral-by-sara-ella.html November 12th The Unofficial Addiction Book Fan Club - Welcome Post November 13th A Court of Coffee and Books - Review + Favourite Quotes YA/NA Book Divas - Review everywhere and nowhere - Review The Reading Life - Promotional Post November 14th Bookish Looks - Guest Post Wishful Endings - Review Adventurous Bookworm- Review + Favourite Quotes The Caffeinated Reader - Review + Playlist TheBookNerdDiaries - Promotional Post Musings of a (Book) Girl - Review November 15th L.M. Durand - Guest Post Here's to Happy Endings - Review Hauntedbybooks - Review + Favourite Quotes Synopses by Sarge - Review The Boozy Reader - Review November 16th Kait Plus Books - Interview Morgan Vega - Review + Favourite Quotes Dazzled by Books - Review Amy’s Booket List - Review Sometimes Leelynn Reads - Review + Playlist + Dream Cast November 17th Fanna Wants The World To Read - Review Moonlight Rendezvous - Review  + Favourite Quotes Bookishly Nerdy - Review + Favourite Quotes Popthebutterfly Reads - Review Confessions of a YA Reader - Promotional Post November 18th That Georgia Gypsy - Interview The Reading Corner for All - Review + Dream Cast Biblioxytocin - Review + Favourite Quotes Lori's Bookshelf Reads - Review + Favourite Quotes To All The Books I've Read Before - Promotional Post

http://www.dazzledbybooks.com/2019/11/coral-blog-tour-review.html

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11/7/19 2:04am - More of the same - Warming Houses, Fet Events, and Girls 2

Saturday was the day of Manu and Christina’s housewarming party, and it was just a grand ol time getting back together with the gang. We played a bunch of beer pong and shot the shit and ate a bunch of pizza and had a grand ol time. Popped a bunch of bubbles with Ella and the floor got disgustingly sticky. Ended up playing me and kailey vs her bf and oliver and we clutched it in double overtime with my bounce shot going into a cup that she just hit as they were lifting it up to pull it away. We had been talking SO much shit, too. It was pure justice lmfao.

After eating some pizza and hanging out talking til like 10 everyone started to peace out. So although I’m always happy to stay in drinking with them, I was kinda relieved because I was hoping to go to that fetish party PUSH! and see Kat again and generally do weird shit.

Threw on my kitty outfit and went roaming around. It was a pretty huge venue. Everywhere you turned there was like another bar or a dj set up with people dancing or a play room or some shit. I saw a girl getting finger fucked on a sawhorse for everyone to watch. I watched several girls get roped up and suspended together like some kind of pretty house of cards. I saw one girl have hooks put through the skin of her back and legs and get suspended up into the air. My friend was dressed up as winnie the pooh and got the stuffing beat out of her (she had stuffing that would pop out of her underwear and whatnot, really cute). It was so tight. I didn’t really play much, mostly roamed around watching and saying hi to the few people I knew. Looked around for kat a longggg time and eventually chilled with her for the rest of the night. This guy we were chatting with told us about one of his fantasies being to do electro play barely-not-kissing so the electricity would dance across their lips, and Kat and him did it together. I was like wow can I try? and they said “well who do you want to do it with?” and I said “hmmmm. both??” so we all kinda smooched and played for a brief second. It was exhilirating lol. It was only like a minute or two of us kissing and stuff but I felt thrilled tbh lol. I hung out with kat and another of her friends until close and then went home to Jill’s place lmfao. Haven’t seen kat since, unfortunately. She hasn’t been coming out to karaoke. Still, great night. A ton of people complimented me, this girl Ash remembered me, wish I had remembered her name too lol. Maybe next time.

Sunday I had plans to meet up with Atonia and Jordan at boxcar eventually, but wanted to go to Roma’s birthday instead. So I did my best doing both lol. Popped in, played some melee, had a drink, bounced out when Jordan called me to come out, hung out with them until Jordan’s friends split. Met this new one Nikki, she was nice to talk to. Antonia ended up calling some other guy to hang out so I’ve pretty much washed my hands of her, didn’t really have a shot and I don’t think I was interested enough tbh. Like she was stunning, don’t get me wrong, but doesn’t really seem weird enough to hang lol. So I bounced back to Roma’s and ended up doing some shrooms, talking with some people, and crying my eyes out laughing at these dumb youtube videos. Watched kakegurui again til like 6 in the morning and went home to pass out. Great party. 

The next day was DnD and Slosh, DnD is going great we’ve been doing some sick puzzles and ramping up to complete a big portion of the quest we’ve been on I think.  Slosh was even better. I ended up meeting this girl Elyse, who’s also a kitty and we spent most of the night talking and petting each other and purring. It was realllll cute :3 I got her number, she’s a soon-to-be divorcee who’s going poly and she’s into plenty of nerdy shit so we actually have a lot in common I think. She was reeeally friendly regardless, we did a lot of nuzzly shit that was super cute. Also met her friend Kyle that she’s openly doing things with and he’s got this cool art going on. Fun stuff.  Honestly, Elyse is pretty enough that I’d peg her for the type to be out of my league. But she spent so much time complimenting me and she’s into kink stuff and invited me to tie her up sometime, so I guess I’m really not, which is wonnnnderful. There’s definitely potential, at least.

Then Tuesday I’m out at karaoke as normal, meet more of Jordan’s friends, this girl Cheyenne this time. I was planning on flirting with Kat and she flaked, and planned on flirting with Antonia and she didn’t show up, and I invited Elyse to come out but she couldn’t. But funnily enough at the end of the night I met this nerdy little chick with a fucking tight body and we started hitting it off about cooking and stuff. She was convincing me that she could make me like vegan food, and I made some dumb fucking joke that I’d love to eat her vegan meat pie and everybody outside just started laughing and trying to get in on the conversation. She said “fuckin a,” a lot, which was really cute to me.

It’s like how Andi would say “5 6 4 3 no way” unprompted on her own and I would swoon over it. Any time someone has a mannerism of my own I’m in love with it lol. 

So yeah I got her number, and we set up a coffee date for Halloween :3