#the Price and also the Shipping? that could fuck me....

[vonlipvig]

suzerain soundtrack on vinyl coming out is great, but can we take a moment to talk about him

they granted him one moment of peace! he's chilling with his music! as he should!

[natelia-aldelliz]

Soap & Gaz : =(

Ghost : What's going on with you two?

Gaz : Old people flirting =( it's like my divorced dad flirting with his new girlfriend in front of me all over again

Ghost : What happened?

Gaz : Well he and my mom got a divorce, which was for the best honestly, and then he got himself a girlfriend that was closer in age to me than him and -

Ghost : I don't give a shit about your parents Garrick, what happened right now.

Gaz : Oh =(

Soap : Nikolai was teaching us insults in russian, and Price told him he had a dirty mouth and Nik just smiled at him, y'know, like a smirk, and Price smiled back, ewwww

Ghost : Wait, you think Price flirting with his... friend is gross because they're old? You do know I'm not that much younger than Price, right?

Soap : Yeah, but you're not flirting with anyone, so it's okay =)

Ghost :

Gaz :

Soap : =) ?

Gaz : I can't believe you just said that. With your full chest too...

[kravchikfreak]

i bet you know how these two pairs are the same one ship

and i FUCKING HATE them both for that

shit's gross, i'm actually anwell

i'll rant on my stupid tags but this is important

[coridallasmultipass]

I am once again begging online shop payment processing companies to allow me to enter a separate name for shipping and separate name for billing!!

It's the same address, I'm just trans and have not legally changed my personal name, but I still prefer to receive mail as my preferred name! Like it's literally my professional name, I do business as my preferred name.

Annoying as fuck, and I don't want to chance my bank rejecting the payment (though I'm sure someone at my bank has put a note to allow it on my account by now, since I've contacted them a couple times before when I realized too late that the billing section didn't let me input another "address/name" section, and they said the payment was fine in those cases.)

Anyway, legal name changes should be free and non-advertised for everyone. Tbh, you should get a free name change every time you file your taxes on time as an incentive for good citizen behaviour. Once I am elected pres-

[schadenfreudich]

I felt like the outer fabric costing around 100€ was a bit expensive but then I looked how much a coat costs and a coat with a lot polyester and definitely not as much wool already costs over 100€, so actually I'm fine with that.

[dilfosaur]

well i haven't spilled my guts on tumblr since i was in college but it's the platform that's felt The Most Mine thru the years, so

let's talk!

i've had a huge chip on my shoulder that i wanted off before the year ends. very bad professional experience to follow

so firstly to get ahead of the speculating, i'm not naming names or anything. some of you will puzzle out who i'm talking about, but please don't bother anyone especially not on my behalf. i've worked hard to distance myself from them the past few months. shit happens, especially when you're a dumb bitch (that's me!)

but also this person was someone i considered a close friend and it makes me uneasy to possibly direct backlash at them. "then why post about it" bc i did intermittent work for them for over a year. this is just about that. so hear me out

basically it started off fine. i initially did some commission work for good pay, then was invited to become more involved with their team. unfortunately as i became more involved with their operation it became more disorganized over time. projects started then forgotten, constantly shifting schedules, lapsing communication between roles, confusing financials, and often inconsistent if not late payments. during mid 2023 i was doing colorist work, sometimes on a one day turnaround (all while also preparing drawfee's summer merch launch). the payroll wasn't set up correctly so i wasn't paid for that work for over a year (more on that later), tho to be fair that was largely my own fault at first as i just didnt realize the payments didn't go thru lol

i always consider myself decently capable of separating friendship and coworker-ship; i run a company with 4 wonderful friends, going strong for almost 5 years. that didn't really work out in this case. by early this year our friendship was on the rocks; work issues fed into personal issues and vice versa. so as the rest of this shit plays out, we had just had our first "big fight" which i felt very bad about and added to all the upcoming tension

a huge point of friction was the fact that i really wanted to work with them to make a music video for one of their songs. i've always wanted a chance to make a music video, was confident in a concept i came up with, and even did some concept art for the idea. everyone insisted they loved the concept and that we should do it, but we kept pushing it back for various reasons. it ended up becoming a huge sticking point for my frustrations, which i tried to express productively. TLDR, we eventually got around to discussing it seriously around april.

i planned to ask for $4000 with negotiable add-on for the whole project, which was my Friend Discount price. i was offered a contract for $1000 flat rate, as they insisted that was the only budget they had for it.

don't ask me why i signed it lol. i didn't even counter offer

there was some girlmath to it: i wanted an extra 1k for a student scholarship i provide every spring and well, there it was. but if i had to guess, i saw it as something i just couldn't back down from any more. i caused these folks- my friends- a lot of problems bc i dug my heels in so deep to chase this project, so fuck it we ball

i had about 4 months to solo a 3 minute music video. they wanted it done in august so they could release it before summer ended, bc "it was a summer song". to be fair i was asked if i needed them to pay for anything extra like assistants (which i would have to find and manage) but i was so immediately overwhelmed that i didn't wanna slow down to wait on that process lol. there was very minimal communication other than brief progress check-ins every few weeks. i did everything for that project myself: the original concept, character designs, storyboards, layouts, backgrounds. i even did the editing/compositing for the final cut of the MV. the only favor i did myself was limiting the amount of it that was actually animated to simple loops and motions. hardly my best work but it was work still done

i did it all in between my full time job. i ended up having to take nearly a month away from most of my drawfee duties (with the support of the others) to make the august deadline. i only ever asked for a 3 day extension (notice given about a week in advance, around the same time i was given the final song file lol). i finished the music video at 6am on the final deadline and recorded drawfee the next day on 2 hours of sleep

but it was done, coolies. the team was very happy with the final product. honestly, without getting into it, those were a very emotionally taxing 4 months. on the professional side, i regretted agreeing to the project and especially for the dogshit rate they offered. i felt like a hypocrite- as someone who always wanted to advocate for younger artists demanding their worth in a world that's getting increasingly hostile toward creatives, i failed myself

so when i met with the manager to discuss the release plan, i told them to do whatever worked best for them as i only had one request: i wanted my credit removed from the project

tbh... like... lmao this dramatic bitch right!! but really, i decided that bad practices only breed worse business. friends or not, it was unprofessional of me to accept such a low paying job so i just didn't want my name used in association. everything felt so muddled to me and i was just really tired at this point

the manager was very understanding and then offered that i could be paid more. they said that their team "was surprised" i accepted their low rate and they would be happy to up the amount. this confused me as the initial budget seemed pretty set and at no point between april and august was i offered a better rate. i knew these guys weren't made of money. so, i declined. i didn't want to put anyone out of their means over work that was already done and agreed upon. but more importantly, i was over the whole thing and didn't want to prolong the project with a contract renegotiation. i just insisted my name be removed

they decided to use a pseudonym (which i was fine with) so they could create a story about a character who made the MV (this sounds really convoluted but i don't know how better to put it without getting specific, sorry). that way if people asked about the credit, they could speak comfortably about it without signaling that something went wrong behind the scenes. ok, kind of a silly narrative imo but whatevs. and maybe this is where i finally went truly wrong but. yolo i guess

i gave the name "D. Smithee", D as in dilfosaur and Smithee as in Alan Smithee. look it up for fun film trivia ig! was it passive aggressive of me to reference that in this context? yeah, honestly. but i thought it was kinda funny and really not that deep. if it was a problem, i have other real, non-cheeky pseudonyms i regularly use. the manager accepted it and all i had to do was wait for them to post the video and i could leave the whole experience behind me

a week later i received a message from the manager that my pseudonym had been denied by the rest of the team bc one of them got the reference. fair enough lol. however, they decided that rather than ask for a different name, the were going to make one up for me that they liked and would "fit the [story]", without asking me

and that! is when i finally snapped!

i was so tired of giving them concessions at this point and having a credit made up for me without any input from me felt genuinely violating and unethical. i started to Panic bc of how stressed i was, and asked for my overdue payments (aka the $500 still owed on the MV, and the colorist rate from a year prior that was never paid even tho i reported it in january) to be scheduled ASAP as i was leaving the work discord immediately

i finally told them off for exploiting me throughout the months while i kept trying to just be nice and finish my contact cleanly. in return i was told that it was unfair to say that as i agreed to everything- i accepted their cheap rate and denied further payment so that was all settled, and it was ok to change my credit without my consent bc i "said they could do whatever with the release". i called bullshit, ended the convo as kindly as i could, and cried lol. they agreed to ditch the pseudonym and just give no credit. that night was the last i heard from anyone on that team

and the real kicker?

august came and went. then september, october... and they never released the music video

and i don't know why, because i was never contacted about it. i've been removed from the picture entirely i guess. 4 months and boatloads of stress. just. up in smoke. i don't know what i expected honestly

it's hard to not take everything that happened personally and as done in bad faith. i really do, honestly. i've had plenty of shitty deals in my almost 10 year art career, but it hits different from people you saw as friends. but to the point of "why not keep it private", i have never felt so disrespected as a professional as i did this past year. i can toy with money and credits and other formalities all i want, but my work- my ideas, my labor, my effort- is still so important to me. i felt like the biggest idiot for doing so much work, pouring so much of myself into a piece for someone's use, for what has amounted to nothing

but more importantly i hated myself for undervaluing my work, even if initially i thought this person was a trusted friend. money is not really an issue for me- drawfee is my main job and i am fine and comfortable. it's so important to pay artists appropriately but i often undersell my own work bc i value the collaboration and passion between creatives more than the reward. i think a lot of artists tend to feel the same, and it often makes us easy to take advantage of. it's so difficult to find the balance between passion and making a fair living, and i think there's some shame within ourselves when artists choose to prioritize that passion

i wanted to finally get all this off my chest bc i was ashamed of every choice i made. things like this happen all the time i'm sure and hiding these mistakes only make it easier for it to happen to other people

tldr always value your work and protect your passion from people who just see it as a product. and don't give cheeky pseudonyms i guess lol

(and again pls don't bother anyone involved about this. a lot of chaos has left my life as i moved past all this, and this is me closing a door without opening new ones hopefully lol)

this shit was truly

so ass.

but i'm moving past it now

but on a nicer note. outside of all of this nonsense, i made lots of good memories this year. i'm truly so grateful to the many wonderful people in my life who keep me going even when i fuck up big time!

and thank you to all of you strangers who, despite everything, give me the time of day. especially if you read this whole thing. you're a real one :')

happy new year!

[marcsburnerphone]

And they were roommates

(Captain John price x F!reader)

Summary: that captain wants somewhere more homely to settle down and when an offer like yours comes alight on Zillow he must take up on it.

Warnings: some awkward moments but nothing crazy.

part 1 - Part two!!! - part 3 - part 4

—————-

You indeed did not see John price the next morning but what you did see was a handwritten note stuck to the fridge beneath a magnet.

“Good morning, as I mentioned my job is demanding. I’m not sure how long I'll be gone for but I can estimate at least a month. If you need me, my phone number is below along with my check for this month's rent and the next. - John price”

You reach for the envelope that is attached behind the note and pull it open and what the fuck. You knew he had to have money but in what world would someone pay this much rent for a house with a roommate? You immediately grab your own checkbook and write him for the amount that’s overpaid, making a mental note to make sure you give it to him.

————

Weeks pass slowly and life goes on as it did before. The only difference is you're no longer struggling to make ends meet. So to celebrate your success you order that 6 foot canvas you’d been wanting for ages and a new oil paint.

When you got the notification that it had arrived, thank god for two day shipping, you squealed and ran to grab it before the mailman even walked away. He offered to help you as he watched you give it a bear hug and waddle it through your door yelling out a meek ‘no Thankyou’. You dragged it down the hallway and into the sunroom resting it up against the wall. Ripping the clear plastic film off of new canvases comes in third place to the best things in life.

Sitting in the sun that evening you stroke deep blue oil paints that try their best to replicate ocean waters, and white specks that wish they could induce the same feelings stars do.

You’ve been at this same painting for 3 weeks, coming home and straight to it. Now that it’s finally done it sits sunbathing till it dries. You still visit it and admire its larger than life beauty.

John’s been gone for 1 month and 3 weeks now and in that time some problems have arisen, 1. The faucet in the kitchen leaks and below it the pipe also leaks and the only plumber that’s willing to drive out to your house and inspect it says he won’t be available for another week which means the water bill will sky rocketing till then. And 2. you have no idea where the huge painting will go.

You walk around wondering where to place it. You thought maybe the living room, or even in your room but after testing both those places it still didn’t look right. You can only think of one other place which is the hallway to John’s room. Of course that spot is perfect, maybe he wouldn’t notice since he only spent one night here. You grabbed the drill and got to work mounting it immediately. Once all was said and done you gave it a once over, smiled, snapped a picture of it to send to your sister and walked away.

———

John arrived back exactly at the two month mark early in the AM. He opened the house door as quietly as possible and removed his boots by the door to avoid the creaking wood of the floor and continued sluggishly hauling his bag to his room. Being the man he is, he notices everything, those watchful eyes of his never miss a detail so he does indeed notice and take a second to admire the newly found painting hung in front of his bedroom door before unlocking it to set his stuff down.

After a much needed and appreciated shower he reads the clock at 7AM thinking he can sleep for a little, that is of course until he hears a knock at the door. Making his way down the hall he peeps through the window and sees a handyman?

“Good morning sir, how can I help you?” He says opening the door.

“Good morning, your wife called for a leaking pipe, told her I’d come by sometime today.” He looks down the hall towards your room and confirms the fact that you're definitely still very well asleep.

“My wife? Oh yes my wife, that lady I could’ve sworn I told her to cancel this appointment we actually got it all sorted out.” He lies like it's second nature.

“I actually charge a late cancellation fee that must be paid upfront.” He inquires slightly annoyed.

“How much?” John replies feeling sorry for this man that drove out here and is now being sent away.

“100$ flat.” John shuts the door and quickly fetches his wallet from the pocket of his cargo pants and returns with two bills one for the inconvenience and sends the man on his way.

Sleep can wait.

—————

You wake up to the sound of clanking in the kitchen and as a woman that technically lives alone in the middle of the forest you're terrified.

Grabbing the bat beside your bed still fully dressed in the least threatening attire, you tiptoe to the source of the noise and breathe out the strongest sigh of relief ever known to man.

“Jesus Christ John you scared me, what’re you doing?” You loudly admit startling him in return.

“Fixing this pipe that you called an overpriced handyman for.” You stare at him subconsciously admiring the way he looks, slightly disheveled, face screwed in concentration and strong hands twisting the wrench in his hand and let’s not mention the rise of his shirt.

“You okay?” He says removing himself from under the sink leaning back on his knees to stare up at you.

“Yeah, yes I’m so sorry, um so where did the handy man go?” He stands with a grunt and leans his back against the counter.

“On his merry way.” He replies, turning around to turn the faucet on checking if it leaks, then off to see if it still drips and as he expects, it does neither.

“How much do I owe you for the late cancellation fee?” That man has handled your plumbing issues before and you’ve definitely canceled late more than once.

“Technically you didn’t cancel on him, I did so don’t worry.” He says picking his tools up off the ground placing them messily into the tool box.

“Well Thank You.” You say awkwardly.

“Of course.” He smiles making the dimples beneath his beard awfully noticeable.

“Oh and by the way your rent is only two thousand five hundred a month.” You say walking to the kitchen drawer beside him and pulling out a check that’s already filled out and handing it to him.

“Utilities included?” He asks, grabbing the check written out for three thousand and also taking in notice that same scent that clung to those sheets you made his bed with weeks ago as you sweep by.

“Yeah I don’t mind paying more cause I mean look around, this place has my style written all over it which makes it feel more like mine than yours.” He looks baffled at your reasoning.

“I actually like the decorations, not sure I’d change a thing about it.” You laugh at what has to be a lie.

“I doubt it.” You chuckle and slightly blush at his kindness.

“No I'm serious, I especially love that painting in the hallway, where’d you get it?” You seem surprised at the mention of it and even more flattered at the compliment.

“I actually painted it.” He gives you a surprised look.

“See you’re even hand painting the art, please I can afford much more than twenty five hundred.” You act like you're considering it for a moment.

“As much as I’d appreciate it, I'm already grateful for what you pay.” You say truthfully.

“Also, welcome home.” You quip before turning around walking back towards your room to get ready for the day

—————

John’s been home for nearly two weeks now and he’s slightly growing on you and you on him. You co-exist in harmony most times. That doesn’t mean the two of you still don’t clash from time to time.

“Good morning.” He says scrambling eggs in a pan as you walk into the kitchen reaching in the cabinet for a coffee mug.

“Morning to you too.” You say groggily, setting your feet flat on the ground and placing the cup on the counter, reaching for the pot to pour some coffee.

“If I can just- oh I’m so sorry.” He says accidentally bumping into you making the coffee spill on the counter.

“Oh no don’t worry about it, I can just clean it.” You say turning around quickly to go grab paper towels and end up accidentally running into his chest.

He grabs your shoulders to hold you in place and let your brain catch up with the speed of events.

“We will learn to both be in the kitchen together someday.” You affirm with a laugh that makes you feel alive.

“Hey the first week this happened almost everyday. If anything this is a huge improvement.” He jokingly abides.

“True.” You say as he turns around handing you the kitchen towel to clean it up. He watches you with amused eyes and a smile that still hasn’t left either of your faces and for a second something alights in John something that scares him so bad he doesn’t hear a thing you’re saying.

“John, I said did you sleep well?” You speak a bit louder, snapping him out of it.

“Yeah darling sorry I’m just going to take this to my office. I've got some work to cover.” He says hurriedly plating his food and scurrying off.

“Okay well I’ll be heading to work soon.” He doesn’t even let you finish before closing the door leaving you to stand there a little stumped.

“So I’ll assume he didn’t sleep well.” You say to yourself before pouring another cup and heading to your room to get changed.

——————

Comments and reposts are appreciated <3

@beebeechaos

@ttsbaby01

@arminarlertssword

@quakeroaksguy

@waves-against-a-cliff

@depressed-but-make-it-cute

[leaderwonim]

𝐇𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇𝐘 — nine: bitter

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠. lee heeseung x fem!reader, park sunghoon x fem!reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲. Y/N always knew that her high school was dominated by wealth and privilege. Upon having a one night stand with popular athlete Lee Heeseung, she uncovers that Heeseung's friend group controls not only social dynamics but also school policies and local affairs, revealing a hidden world of power and manipulation behind their so called perfectly polished exteriors

masterlist | previous | next

Heeseung graciously offered to buy you a dress for the gala, saying it was the least he could do since you agreed to accompany him in the first place.

He dropped it off at your house with flowers, a gesture you found yourself smiling too hard at that your cheeks practically hurt.

See you tonight, the small paper inside the flowers said, and you set it in a vase on your dinner table.

The dress he bought was a silky black dress, one that went all the way down to your feet. It was extravagant, and you almost dropped it when you looked at the price tag.

Six hundred fucking dollars.

The dress was shipped from New York in America, so you knew Heeseung wasn’t playing around when it came to Seojun’s gala.

By the time it hits 8pm, you could hear the familiar honk of Heeseung’s Mercedes. You finish your last touch up, pressing a sebum control powder on your face until your skin looked perfect in the mirror.

Then in a rush, you grab your heels, slipping into them and running out to Heeseung’s car.

He smiles when he sees you, leaning over to open the passenger side door.

“You look… pretty.” He says, eyes glancing up and down at your body.

“Thank you for the dress.” You say shyly, suddenly feeling overwhelmed by his stare.

“Seojun told me they already started but we’re really not missing out on anything.” He says reassuringly, adjusting his front rear mirror.

After he’s done, he reverses the car until he’s out your parking lot, speeding away into the night.

“Hee! Glad you made it man,” Seojun throws his arms around Heeseung’s shoulder, an annoying smirk plays on his face. “Aaaand Heeseung’s friend? You’re the one who did the physiology project with him right?”

You’re surprised he remembers you, so you only nod hesitantly.

“Well don’t be shy, tonight’s gonna be a blast.”

As soon as Seojun opens his gigantic doors, you’re greeted with all sorts of guests in expensive dresses and suits, some holding champagne glasses while others make themselves comfortable at the tiny tables Seojun has set all around his living room.

“Park Seojun, you never fail to impress me.” Heeseung says, patting the boy on the back. Seojun responds with a loud cackle, slapping Heeseung back jokingly.

“Make yourself comfortable.” Heeseung whispers in your ear. “I’m going to get us some drinks.”

You nod shyly, watching as Heeseung disappears into the kitchen which was on the other side of the house.

This was the perfect opportunity to sneak up Seojun’s stairs and go into his father’s study. Perhaps there—you could find proof of his manipulation.

You watch as everybody else in the gala is too engrossed in either the music or each other, quietly creeping up the stairs.

Seojun’s house had a long hallway, which felt cold and dark. Above each door was a name of which room belonged to who, and you could see the biggest room in the end of the hallway was Seojun’s father by the way it said PARK HYUNGWOOK’S STUDY.

It was big enough that two large tall wooden doors stood before it. You knew you had to open it quietly to not disrupt the rest of the guests—or even worse—Seojun himself.

You shuffle throughout the cabinets and drawers, trying to find whatever proof you could find yourself on. Your eyes widen when you see the receipts of the most recent transactions to Joseon Internationals, a company that often got into scandals for allegedly using their wealth to get top positions in politics.

Holy shit, Seojun’s dad donated half a million to Joseon Internationals in one week alone?

Your thoughts are quickly interrupted when you hear shuffling from outside the door. In a panic, you rush underneath the large desk, which was thankfully a dark brown color so it hid you perfectly in the dark.

“You showed up with her again?”

Wait a minute—you know that voice.

The doors to the study open, and you can briefly make out two shoes from a crack underneath the desk.

One of them was Heeseung’s shoes.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do here Hanni? You want me to wait around for you forever?”

The girl scoffs, arms crossed. “You’re real classy Heeseung. Does she know you bought the dress for me?”

You almost let out a gasp, knowing exactly what she was referring to.

The black silk dress Heeseung had supposedly bought for you.

“Why does it matter, Hanni? You make it clear every time that it’s not me you want, it’s Sunghoon. Then you get all mad when I’m with Y/N, and question why I’m bitter?”

Hanni scoffs again, foot tapping the floor impatiently. “Whatever, tell Seojun I am leaving.”

You could hear her quickly leave the room by the taps of her heels on the carpet floor of the study.

“Wait—at least let me drive you home.” Heeseung’s voice fades away as he follows her, and you swear your heart breaks all over once again.

You stand up, body still in shock of what you just heard in the room. You take a quick picture of the receipts in Seojun’s father’s study before leaving, tears already falling down your eyes.

“Whoa—Y/N?” The voice of Sunghoon only makes the tears come faster. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you care?” You mutter out, coming to wipe them. “Get out of my way, I’m going home.”

“Good point,” he says. “But I also know that a girl crying like you shouldn’t go home by herself. I’ll drive you.”

“Like I want to be in a car with you.” You mumble, silently grateful when Sunghoon bats the other way.

“You didn’t drink, did you?”

“What? No, of course not.” You quickly say, sniffling.

“Alright, let’s go then.”

Sunghoon helps you in the passenger seat of his car, and you could make out the figure of Danielle sleeping in the back.

“Don’t worry about Dani, I’m just driving her home too.” Sunghoon explains, grabbing a pillow from his trunk and putting Danielle’s head against it.

“I’ll drive you home first.” He says to you.

Although the light hum of the car in the quiet night should’ve comforted you, you only felt worse as the ride wore on.

Because no matter how much it seems like Heeseung actually wants you, his feeling for Hanni never ends, and it makes you end up feeling like shit over and over again.

Sunghoon pulls up to your parking lot, his eyes telling more than his mouth wants to say.

“Oh and Y/N,” he says quietly, clearing his throat.

You turn around, facing him completely.

“I know we may not be the best of friends,” he continues. “But if you need to talk about tonight, I’m here.”

You close the door, choosing not to say anything to Sunghoon.

You just needed to shower and get to bed. Maybe a good night sleep will make everything go away.

AUTHOR’s NOTE. it gets better soon.. i promise

taglist 1 (closed) @lilyuwon @soobeboobe @immelissaaa @coqhee @shuichi-sama @ssukiyakii @deobitifull @sunpov @anittamaxwynnn @minjaexvz @katarinamae @capri-cuntz @jooniesbears-blog @sakanelli-afc @lvlyjisung @cherlv @mnxnii @llvrhee @b0bbl3s @lwavander @txtlyn @heartheejake @realrintaro @wonyoungsvirus @hyuckies18 @thinkinboutbin @yoonjise @rikizm @cinnamon-won @samouryed @moon4moony @jakesfurry @yunjinhuhjennifer @viagumi @rikisly @rikisnotforsale @heart4hees @jjklvr9 @loviwon @rik1zzluv @skzenhalove @jaehoonii @j5yy @tnazips @taeyoonga @jakeyverse @urfavouriteanon @whos-viviann @luvrseung @haeeeeefer

[going-to-ikea-for-the-fries]

Quiet Confidence || One Night Stand!Gaz

Rating: E Words: 2.7K~ Pairing: ONS!Gaz x ONS!F!Reader CW: smut, cunnilungus, protected sex (implied), piv (implied), nudity. tags: you/your pronouns, afab!reader, one night stand, reader and kyle are both confident, kyle garrick is a munch, morning after talks. a/n: the gifs used do NOT reflect the reader's skin tone of physical appearance. / the original poster of the gifs below is @unstablecryptid but I could *not* get the gif search bar to fucking show me the gifs of elliot knight.

In all the units he's been in, be it the Duke of Lancaster's Regiment, or when he joined the SAS, or when he was doing resistance to interrogation training with the Marines, or, now, in the 141, one thing's for certain: Gaz is the worst person to have as a wingman.

Not because he doesn't know what he's doing. No, Kyle absolutely knows what he's doing. The issue is precisely that. He's a handsome lad with a playful demeanor and natural charisma. He fails at getting his mates a girl because the girl ends up wanting him.

And so no one asks for his help any more... and he stopped offering too.

But that doesn't mean that he stopped trying to get girls for himself.

Price, Ghost, Soap and Gaz sit around a table in the corner of the packed pub, chatting amidst themselves.

It's become somewhat of a routine, before they all ship back home: they get together at a bar or pub, huddle around a table and each of them pays for a round of drinks before they part ways.

It's, in a way, a moment to decompress, unwind, and clear their heads, while also allowing them to be amidst civilians for a moment and 'turn off' the soldier mentality before they go home to see family (or whatever Ghost does).

It's always the same routine. Ghost pays the first round. Stops at the bar while the lads locate a table (or at least a wall to lean on), then marches back with four pints balanced perfectly on stiff arms. He's clinical, methodical. In, out. Goes to the bar, comes back.

Soap gets the next one. Goes to the bar, swaggering past the other patrons, shooting coy looks and little smirks at the women (and men) that catch his eye. Leans against the bar and takes his sweet. fucking. time. Spends longer chatting up the other people waiting for drinks and even the bartender than actually ordering and waiting. Then, he swaggers back. Sometimes empty-handed, sometimes with a number/username or two on his phone.

Price gets the next one. Just like Simon, he doesn't meander. He goes up to the bar, places his order, pays, and leans on his forearms while he waits. If he sees a pretty woman, he might side up to her and exchange a couple words. It rarely goes anywhere. But he doesn't seem to do it for the same reason Johnny (and Kyle) do. Mostly just to pass the time.

Kyle doesn't even put in effort at this point. And he's not even bragging when he says that. More often than not, when he's at the pub with his team, he's not there to look for a bird to spend the night with, he's there to say farewell before they go on leave. And yet, there's something about Kyle that makes women flock to him.

He finds himself being approached as he leans on the bar, eyes fluttering around the room, taking in the bottle and glasses on display behind the bartender, the patrons, the TV showing a football game high on the wall... And without fail a pretty woman will side up to him and try to make a move, give him her number...

Kyle would blame it on the fact he has a 'pretty face' as one of his ex-girlfriends would say, or maybe his shower routine, the fact he actually makes an effort to look and smell good, because it makes him feel good... But as one of his one night stands in the past year made a point to point out to him, he, allegedly, exudes a 'quiet confidence' about him.

Regardless of the cause, Kyle always returns to the table with hands overflowing with drink/pint glasses and his phone holding a handful of new numbers or instagram/snapchat handles... ones he does not plan on contacting.

-

You're sitting across the pub from the 4 men in the corner booth. They're in regular clothes but, from the way they sit and act, you can tell they're soldiers from the base a few kilometers away.

Your eyes keep finding their way to the pretty, dark skinned bloke that sits on the edge, his left side turned toward you, his lips pursed as him and his friends discuss whatever it is that soldiers do when they come to a pub. Probably sports.

"You know if you keep staring at him like that, you'll probably burn a hole through him." Your friend quips beside you, causing you to scoff and roll your eyes.

"And what do you suggest I do instead? Just walk up to that Adonis and go 'Hey, handsome, wanna get out of here?' in front of his mates?" You retort with a cocked brow.

"Yeah? You've done worse than that." She tells you. You go quiet again, your gaze returning to the handsome lad.

He sits with his back against the leather back of the booth, shifting his weight around on his ass and sliding down the seat a bit, legs spread apart, one foot kicked up and off the cover of the table, more so in the way, to potentially trip someone.

Your friend is right, of course, you've done worse than go up to a pretty man and ask him to go home with you. In fact, you've done much more nerve-wracking and anxiety-inducing things... But that bloke is easily one of the calmest and most confident ones you've seen in a while, not to mention he's not alone...

Pondering for a moment, you decide to just go for it. You finish the rest of your drink first and get up, walking over to his table, your mind already conjuring the perfect string of words to say in order to get him to come home with you. Hell, you don't normally have any trouble charming lads either.

You stop in front of the table and all four sets of eyes turn to look at him, one of them behind a balaclava, directly across from the man you want to speak to. You had nearly missed that one in the shadows of the pub.

Looking directly into the eyes of your target for the night, you feel the words you had kind of come up with escape you, as well as your last working neuron, and you find yourself feeling a bit flustered under his scrutinizing gaze.

He has the prettiest brown eyes you've ever seen, which stare up at you like a baby cow, eyebrows knit, wide and inviting and warm...

Taking a deep breath, you simply reach your hand forward, palm facing up and you wait, eyes locked on the beautiful man sitting on the booth before you.

His eyes flutter down to your hand and then back up at your face, an eyebrow scaling up in intrigue and confusion, but he lays his left hand atop yours, his warm, calloused palm against your own. No wedding ring. Good enough.

You nod at him and turn away again, pulling him along as you begin to step away from his table. The lad's head immediately shakes, looking around at you, and at his mates, in confusion, but he has no choice but to follow you.

He stands and shoots his friends a confused but amused look, smirking a bit at your mere audacity. You can hear one of them make some comment behind your back as you drag the pretty boy away, but you don't catch it between his thick accent and the music and chatter inside the pub.

-

You made it from the bar to your elevator and to your door in near complete silence, no small talk other than to exchange names and ask about protection, no hesitation.

Getting lowered onto your bed, Kyle's lips were mashed against yours, his arms caging you in, his long, nimble fingers gripping onto the back of your head and nape.

Your legs spread to either side of his hip, your feet plant themselves on the bed, your knees squeezing lightly around his hip over the fabric of his black boxer briefs.

Kyle ruts his clothed bulge against your core, humming under his breath, the sounds he makes dying against your lips.

Your hands slide down from around the back of his neck over his pecs and down his abs, feeling how hard and defined he is. "Mmmm..." You purred as your nails gently slid down his dark skin.

"You like my muscles, hm?" He murmurs after breaking the kiss, diving in to kiss down your jaw and neck, then over your collarbone and onto the swell of your breasts in your bra.

"Maybe." You reply, which causes a rumble of a laugh to escape him, his hands pulling you up and off the mattress so he can undo the back clasp of the bra, before slipping the straps off your shoulders, and throwing the garment aside.

"Maybe, eh?" Kyle teases and leans up close, his large hands cupping the flesh of your breasts, squeezing them them together while his thumbs glide over your pert nipples, rubbing them in circles.

"Mmmm... Maybe." You agree with a chuckle of your own, a hum of appreciation falling through your lips from his touch, at the same time as you grind your clothed cunt against the bulge in his underwear.

The man above you smirks at you, letting you continue to grind yourself against him, while his head dips down to catch one of your nipples between his lips, giving it a slow lick and a greedy suck, his fingers still squeezing the flesh of your tits around them.

After a moment of giving them some attention, his mouth glides down your stomach and over the mound of your pelvis, toward your pussy, his body leaving the bed and kneeling on the floor in front of it, his face lining up between your thighs.

His fingers run over your slit, the man purring at the feeling of the soaked patch you wore into the fabric, before hooking a finger around the side of the gusset, pulling the fabric aside.

Kyle's face leans up close and he wastes no time attaching his plump lips to your wet cunny, his tongue seeking out and finding your clit after letting go of your underwear and spreading your folds with his fingers.

His nose buries itself on your mons and your legs twitch slightly as he gives your clit the attention it deserves, licking and sucking the sensitive bud, pulling it behind his teeth with greedy sucks, the obscenely wet sounds of his sucking filling the room and making you, somehow, whine more than the actual feeling itself.

"K-Kyle-" You whine as your hand finds his head, your legs trembling on either side of him, twitching against either side of his head and squeezing against his ears, like you're desperate to close them.

Kyle's big brown eyes look up at you with a spark of mischief and he grabs both your thighs with his large hands, forcing them open again and holding them against the mattress, leaving you splayed on the bed as his tongue laps furiously at your clitoris.

"I know... I know..." He coos at you as you whine and tremble, your hip bucking a bit as you both seek more of his pleasure and less of it, feeling your climax rearing its head over the horizon as Kyle sends you barreling toward it with just the feeling of his tongue.

Then, his fingers join in, two of them, carefully plunging inside your leaking hole, moving slowly and deeply, curling up to find your G-spot, his lips once more making the most obscene of sucking sounds as he eats you out like a man starved.

You whine and your head falls back, your body thrashing atop your bed covers as you climax, leaking your juices over his long digits and pushing his head away from you, your clitoris overstimulated and feeling raw.

You struggle to catch your breath, feeling hot and covered in sweat, the man kneeling at the foot of your bed looking at you with his pretty brown eyes and a smirk on his lips.

"Don't look at me like that!" You complain, feeling flushed, both from embarrassment and from the recent climax.

"Like what, sweet thing?" He asks you, raising his brows and lifting himself off the floor, crawling back atop you, and settling his hip between your parted legs.

"All cocky and smug-like." You retort, hearing him chuckle again.

"Not smug at all, poppet." He tells you in earnest before leaning down and kissing you slowly again. "Just happy I made you feel good. You used to blokes who don't make you cum, hm?" He asks you.

"No, they make me cum." You reply, and, truly, you're saying the truth. But this feels different either way.

"Good, then," Kyle adds and smirks, rolling your hip and legs to the side, his fingers hooking over the edge of the waistband of your panties, pulling them down your thighs. "'cause I plan on making you cum on my cock next."

-

The next morning, you wake up past 11 a.m., bleary-eyed.

You rub your eyes, yawn and stretch along the bed, your arm hitting a warm and hard body beside you.

"Morning to you too, poppet." Kyle's voice murmurs from beside you, causing you to turn to look at him.

You lock eyes with his ass, first and foremost, your eyes widening for just a second.

Kyle's lying on his stomach, his elbows propping him halfway up on the pillow as he scrolls through his feed on some social media.

"Hi..." You murmur and chuckle softly. "You know, most lads would've left by now, hm?" You quip.

The man next to you hums and chuckles before shrugging. "Most lads aren't me." He says simply.

Looking toward you, you can't help but smile a bit at the sight of his warm eyes, shaking your head in amusement at his (over)confidence.

"Did you sleep well?" He asks you.

"Mhm... Like a baby." You nod and stretch your arms again. "What about you?" You return.

"Slept well, yeah..." He retorts. "Don't know why I asked, there's no way you could not, after the way I tired you out?" He teases and winks at you.

Scoffing, you roll your eyes. "Oh shut it..." You murmur, arching your back and stretching your spine out.

You're acting nonchalant about it, but the delicious soreness between your thighs and the sticky warmth of the sweat you shed last night speaks volumes. He's 100% right.

"I ordered you food," He says before rolling toward you and reaching over your body to the bedside table, retrieving a water bottle, still cold, meaning he went to get it from the fridge for you.

"Thanks." You murmur once he hands it to you. You open it and curl your head up to sip some water. "I've never had a bloke order me food the morning after." You quip.

"Well, I'm not an animal... I ate you out last night, only fair I feed you in return, hm?" He quips, causing you to scoff again and groan at the stupid comment.

Cheeky fucker, and the worst part is he knows how bad that was, and is still smirking down at you all smugly...

A notification from his phone makes him yelp softly and he rolls away, rising from the bed. "Food's downstairs." He announces.

Your eyes are drawn to the way he looks as he collects his clothes from the floor of your bedroom, tugging them on over his body, his cock, especially, hanging low against his thigh before he fixes it inside his underwear and tucks it all into his jeans.

The memory of how he pounded into you with reckless abandon last night, the tip of his cock hammering past your gummy walls at a neck-breaking pace, hearing you cry out in delight every time it kissed your cervix, comes flowing back.

Kyle notices you eyeing him up just as he's putting on his boots and glances at you with the same smug smirk he's shot you so many times in the last 12 hours together.

Stopping at the door of the bedroom while turning his shirt right side out, ready to put it on, he winks at you. "Don't worry, I'll give you a round two after we eat."

[qwimblenorrisstan]

Surprise | Soap x Reader

Summary: After a mission that they barely survived, Ghost leads the team to a safe place to stay, his half-sister’s apartment.

Word Count: ~ 1.6k

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, missiles, etc

A/N: first time writing for cod…hope you enjoy, lmk what to do for part 2!! (also here is what I had in mind for the apartment layout, if you’re like me and can’t picture buildings in your head)

Requests are open!

Masterlist | Next

Their mission had gone to complete shit.

It had started relatively simple compared to the other missions they’d been doing, with Russians, cartels, Mexican forces, and whatnot. They’d been shipped out to America, a suspected terrorist group that had been working for General Barkov when he’d been killed.

A group that had now gone rogue, and rumor was that they were headed to Britain, holding a missile for transport that had been stolen from a covert American base. The Americans weren’t taking it too well, but that was to be expected.

“We don’t have enough information to know who they are, you just need to get that missile transported, and get out of there.” Laswell had told them.

“Sounds easy compared to what we do every mornin’, right Lt?” Soap had said with a grin, nudging him with an elbow slightly, and he had only given a grunt in response, still processing information.

“Easy” his arse.

Sent to one of the states at first, they’d tracked down this supposed terrorist group, apparently it being a lot larger than they originally expected. A lot larger.

It was only because of the intel Gaz had gotten his hands on that they’d been able to locate the missile while it moved, it being located in a broken-down warehouse near Galveston, Texas. Right near the Gulf of Mexico, if they were planning on taking it to sea to travel with it.

And when they’d stormed the warehouse?

A total mess. Unorganized and sloppy.

Soap had blown the door, and they’d planted charges around to detonate for the men guarding the missile but had underestimated just how many there would be. It was crawling with them, more confirmation that they’d been informed somehow beforehand of Task Force 141.

Men in vents, ceiling panels, underneath desks, and hiding behind cabinets, doors, anything.

The missile had only been taken out because of air support, the same air support that had nearly been shot down and taken out, when a heli had finally come in to reprieve them while snatching that missile up and getting the hell out of there.

That didn’t solve the problem of the men everywhere, though. The charges that had been meant to blow some to pieces had been botched, and with all the gunfire, they would attract unwanted attention. Police were already investigating, conveniently turning a blind eye to Price and the rest of his force. It wasn’t a coincidence. Not when Shepherd had a history of paying people off to keep them quiet.

But that wasn’t their problem, right now, Ghost was trying to devise a way to get them the hell out of America, or at least out of goddamn Texas. Of all the places to be stuck in.

“Laswell, where the hell is our exfil?”

He radioed over, crouched down on the roof of a building, taking out whoever he could from it. Many of the men in the terrorist group weren’t a bad shot either, so he decided to keep his head relatively low.

“Negative, Ghost.” Price’s voice responded.

“The hell does that mean?”

“We aren’t leaving. Too many men still here, Kate wants us keeping eyes on ‘em.”

“Bloody fucking hell..”

They had decided to regroup at an old church down the road, Soap was a little banged up, with more than a few cuts and bruises, and Gaz dealing with a minor head injury he’d gotten when someone had tried to smash his skull in with a gun, and Price donning a decent sized cut to the arm.

“This is a covert mission. We can’t stay at a hotel or anything of the like, so where are we going?” Gaz asked, and Price paused for a moment, looking a bit unsure, which made sense considering this had been a get-in-get-out mission before it had changed. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Ghost spoke.

“I know someone, but they’re a long ways away.”

~ 3:48 A.M.~

A knock that was more like a banging on your door woke you up from your light sleep as you quietly sat up in your bed, standing and tiptoeing over to the front door of your spacey apartment.

It was large, for the price. But considering you were working for the landlord at a local restaurant, as he was the general manager there as well, it made sense.

The apartment held two spare bedrooms, and a nice living room connected to a kitchen with a table in it you liked using. Two bathrooms, one in the hallway where your room was in, another connected to a guest bedroom. A little balcony, which came in handy when one of your friends wanted a smoke break when over at your place.

Palming the closed hunting knife still connected to your pants and hanging loosely, you figured you were safe enough to answer the door, and looking through the peephole, you saw four men.

Military, and the one in the Ghost mask…

Opening the door, your face now annoyed, you stared him dead in the eye. Didn’t even glance at the others.

“We need a place to stay. A month or two at most.”

His low and rough voice, donning a British accent, said. It was louder than you remembered him being, but then again, he wasn’t the scared little Simon that you’d known anymore, scared of the abusive father you’d both shared. He wasn’t the Simon who mumbled or spoke quietly anymore.

A silent conversation passed between you two at the door, a thick silence passing over the entire group. The other men stared. Your eyes narrowed, a nonverbal question.

Are you on a mission?

He didn’t move for a moment, no doubt thinking of the information he could share with you. Another reason for your eventual fallout, the fact that he wouldn’t ever share with you anything if what he did. It was always to keep you safe.

Eventually, he gave a tiny, near imperceptible nod. On a mission. Of course, he would come to you while on a mission, dragging you into it. It wasn’t like you were helpless against attackers, not at all, but they’d had some crazy shit happen to them over the years, and that was just from what you’d overheard.

With a resigned sigh, you looked over at the other men he’d brought.

A taller man, with a beard, and a bucket hat. He looked like he had authority. A man on the shorter end, with some scruff, a mohawk, and a poorly restrained cheeky smile. The last man was darker, an almost caramel brown, with short hair, cleanly shaven, and a hat on.

Military men, clearly, but if Simon was willing to trust them around you, then you didn’t count them much as a threat right now.

“Names.”

You said flatly, and the Mohawk-one’s brows raised before replying.

“You can call me Soap-“

“I mean your name, not your shitty military nickname.”

You interrupted bluntly, clearly not in the best mood after being woken at 3 AM because of Simon Riley. “Soap” raised his hands in a mock gesture of innocence.

“Easy, lass. It’s Johnny, if you must know.”

Scottish, then. You could tell by the accent. The taller one spoke.

“John Price.”

The prettiest of the group spoke with a little smile that could’ve fooled you for not being faked.

“Kyle.”

Giving them all one last flat, surveying look, you jerked your head into the apartment, walking in.

“Two guest bedrooms down that way, bathrooms down the hall, there’s a balcony if you want a second exit. Don’t break anything.”

You said simply, and they walked in, looking tired as hell and covered in bandages. However, you weren’t going to let this go. Not right now.

You grabbed Simon by the arm, and he stiffened, stopping.

“You and I are going to have a little talk, Simon.” You said, dragging him into your room, and shutting the door behind you as he sighed, pulling his mask off. Blond hair and lashes came into view, as well as baby blue eyes.

“What the fuck were you thinking, bringing-“

You began, pissed as hell. He hadn’t contacted you in years, not since his mom had died, and with your shared father already dead, you’d been shoved into foster care.

“We’re all injured. We can’t stay anywhere we can be easily found. This area isn’t as well registered, and we’ll be gone in a month.” He spoke simply as if it wasn’t anything to get upset or emotional about.

You took a breath and breathed it out. Stay calm.

“I’m not talking about the mission, Simon.”

He seemed unused to being called his real name. At least, by the stiffening of his shoulders, you guessed so.

“There’s nothing else to talk about.”

He said gruffly, turning to open the door and leave. You stepped in his way, and he stared down at you, unamused. You were barely 5’6, and he was 6’2, so it was quite the height difference.

“You can’t run from your problems forever, Simon.”

You said, hands on your hips, and he simply picked you up, placing you beside him as he opened the door and walked out. Always running from his problems.

It was surprisingly unsurprising.

~ 4:07 A.M.~

“You want to explain who the hell that is, Simon?”

Price asked gruffly from where they were all gathered in one of the guest rooms. Simon paused his quiet pacing for a moment to reply.

“My half-sister.” He answered, and a silence fell over at that. The only sibling they knew he had was Tommy, and Tommy was long dead at that. A few seconds passed, before Soap, in the bathroom connected to this particular guest room, combing his Mohawk and going through his haircare routine, spoke up.

“She’s a real bonnie lass.” Johnny said with a grin, and Simon sighed.

“English, MacTavish.”

“She’s hot as fuck, sir.” The Scotsman said, and there was a small, disappointed sigh from Gaz, who already knew he’d have to patch up Soap from Ghost, who was fuming silently.

[buttercupblu]

God is Fair|The Lost

Devotional Love with Suguru x Reader|Three-Shot

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3

the deets: sweet reminiscences of a wandering youth in a winter before a spring. you and suguru are older now and on wildly different but similar paths, you just don't know it yet. w.c: 11.4k out of still dk yet pls send help tags: fem!reader, alcohol consumption (don't drink and drive, this is a FIC for a reason plsss and ty), slight coercion, party dr*g use, territorial tendencies, a lil bit of sadism, hair pulling, lip locking, a bit o' biting, fingering, orgasm denial, a hint of emotional manipulation/gaslighting if you have brain angel’s note: don't ask me why these keep getting longer, okay? exposition loves to grab me by the throat and throttle me, idk what to say— earworm 🐛: Nangs|Tame Impala

This fucking sucks.

Napkins. Straw. Sauce...ranch? No. Barbeque. Tea. Fuck, gotta make more tea.

You were exhausted. A bit sweaty. Reeking of fryer grease and beef.

"Welcome to Shake Shack!"

And employed.

You took what felt like your 1000th order of the day, trapped in a vicious cycle of dropping baskets of fries into the fryer, then rushing back to the register to enter what you'd memorized. Often barely avoiding a crash with your co-worker who manned the grill as you cut the tight corner just as the next customers pulled up to the window.

In a town surprisingly smaller than yours, there was a high price to pay for being short-staffed.

For you, that meant having the all-too-often privilege of being the drive-through cashier and fry station manager while working with just two other team members who were also drowning on this sinking ship.

Slipping the last fry in, you finished bagging the hefty order and took and breath.

Work and college were wringing you by the neck, but things could be worse, and you handed the customer their order with a smile.

"Have a great day!"

"My tea?"

Shit—forgot it just that fast.

After waiting all of 30 seconds (give or take) for you to brew and sweeten it to perfection, the customer sped off with it with a grumble. You sighed, leaning your back against the drive-thru window. Your front register co-worker slowly peeked around the corner, having heard the skidding tires. You only shook your head and shrugged. Patience is a virtue.

The air felt so lovely, you thought during break, rubbing your arms and plopping onto a bench outside. It was always so chilly in the restaurant because...shakes, but they should allow you wear a jacket at least.

You pulled up a chair for your feet and slumped back with an exhale. Not a second into your break and you brain was still racking with thoughts.

Not of work, but of next week's exam. And your labs, and your lazy ass lab partner, and your 10-page paper and just...school in general.

You weren't failing, far from it, but it was becoming increasingly difficult to walk the fine line between getting B's and getting by. The major you chose made sure of that—healthcare was no joke.

But neither were you.

Never once a quitter, you'd rather torture yourself with the woes of medicine than admit defeat. Proving yourself day after day as you pushed through the BS, big and small.

Like your chem teacher—you got a headache anytime you thought about him. Accent thicker than molasses that you can't quite place, the guy wore a permanent resting bitch face and never seemed to want to be there.

With so much attitude pent up inside such a small man who was hell-bent on unleashing it, it was a good day if he didn't go off on someone over something as simple as not understanding the words coming out of his mouth.

It had to be his favorite excuse to never explain anything during class when eventually everyone would give up and blankly stare him in the face.

You were sure he got off on being a shit teacher with a crutch called tenure. Ending every semester with a smile as he passed around teacher reviews, knowing your responses were worthless—just like your social life.

Freshman and sophomore year had been the best for late night and regrets in the morning, but junior year? Whopped your ass.

Time for games or friends was over. Textbooks and Shake Shack were your best friends.

You took off your visor that always hugged a little too tight around your voluminous hair, immediately feeling relief before looking at the logo that mocked you.

The money your dad set aside, plus what he'd been saving since you were a baby, was enough to cover most of your expenses, but not all.You had to buy a car, textbooks, and other unexpected but totally avoidable costs that couldn't be covered for...reasons.

But it was fine.

Everything was fine.

School was...doable, and work was preparing you for independence and trust, Miss Independent was in her bag. It wasn't all bad, you thought, fiddling with the neon star on your lanyard. The cool metal nestled between your fingers was a constant reminder of when things were a little easier—you smirked—and the most unforgettable night of sophomore year.

Parties weren't foreign to you during undergrad—scratch that—you weren't foreign to parties who knew your name by heart. But most of them leading up to that night were always mildly disappointing.

Hollywood had painted a very vivid picture of college life, but for you and your roomie, the beginning of undergrad had been painfully black and white.

It wasn't that neither of you, especially Yuki, didn't try. Sometimes, you'd even end up somewhere sketch, following behind Yuki who was always chasing a thrill.

No, it was because there were really only two options for a quote-on-quote "good night": a sweaty, over-packed, testosterone-filled Frat sausage party with shit music and even shittier guys or an on-campus, alcohol-free, school-organized event with crowds of less than 20 that always ended before midnight.

Anywhere else actually worth a damn was 21 and up and off-limits to underaged 19-year-olds like the two of you. To you, they weren't even worth bringing up, but Yuki liked a challenge. A third option was always on the table. And one night, she swore she knew how to get your entire group on the scene and into a rave. All it took was a little finesse and a little dress. And bearing the cold of the December weather in tight skirts and fishnet shirts.

"Yuki, I swear to God," your words vibrated with each shiver, "If we don't get in—"

"You worry too much." She looked over the long line of heads in front of your group.

All week, she'd been going on and on about how "This weekend was going to kiss ass!", with the most boastful look on her face. She was only one year ahead of you but swore the connects she made her freshman year would come in clutch and be there that night. But after everything that happened in high school, you were such a worry wart now.

Always wanting to be sure everything went according to plan and worked out as it should. Especially once you calmed down after losing your shit and running around like a complete lunatic freshman year of college. But by the end of that year, things felt...off. Now you wanted to take sophomore year easy. But Yuki wasn't having it.

Once goosebumps began to creep up your skin as you took wobbled steps towards the front of the line, it was do or die.

Music bumped into your ears, battling your beating heart as you passed the crowd of annoyed faces who'd been waiting for God knows how long to get in. Yuki took long, runway-model strides. Eating up the lethal looks you and your group were getting for being so bold until she stood face to face with security.

His gaze traveled across Yuki's snug black leather shorts and matching thigh-high boots as she rested her hand on her hips, making him smirk.

"Hey, we're on the list," she said cooly, chin high as she ran a hand through her long blonde tresses. "Under Rico."

His smirk disappeared. "Who?"

"*scoff* Rico. Big Rico." She said like it was obvious.

"I don't know that name."

Oh no. Eyes wide, you shifted, hovering just under Yuki's shadow as you clung to her arms for warmth.

You were freezing, nearly nude, feet screaming from only a short walk, and now at risk of being embarrassed in front of a line of irritated individuals who'd probably been praying on your downfall the second you all beelined to the front.

The threat of being turned away burned hot in your cheeks. But Yuki kept her cool. "We should be under Rico." She gave him her name and the rest of the group's, but security quickly scrolled through his tablet and shook his head.

"Oh wait," he stopped at the bottom, "Yeah, Rico. Right here."

Yes!

"He's already gone in, but uh, he didn't mention any extras."

Fuck!

You told Yuki that you guys would be late while she was taking her sweet time getting ready.

Then security gave your group a slow lookover, but not in a 'I'm falling for your slutty outfits and checking you out' kind of way Yuki was hoping for. "You guys got IDs?"

Your heart dropped to your ass. You gaped like a fish.

fuckfuckfuck. You knew you were screwed anything you saw even a smidge of panic on Yuki's usually fearless face.

The situation she swore she had a surefire way to avoid blew right through her and the rips on the sides of the t-shirt she purposely wore to seduce her way out of trouble.

Curse words filled your head, ready to fire them off at Yuki the moment you got back to her car.

She had to think fast.

"Yeah, we um—"

"They're with us."

Your heads snapped toward the voice in unison and you had to crane your neck around Yuki's towering stature to find it, but find it you did—belonging to a Mr. Tall, Blonde, and Handsome—standing right off the entrance to the rave with a drink in hand and eyes firmly locked on you.

"'Bout time you got here, Yuki. Friends." He nodded your way.

You? Us?

For a second, you knew he had to be mistaken but resisted the urge to look around for whoever he must have been talking to. But his gaze didn't waver.

You exhaled, blushing. Relieved but wondering why this appetizing stranger was coming to your rescue.

"You're with Rico?" security butted in.

"Yeah, yeah." And the stranger waved his wristband in air, a small neon star dangling from it for everyone to see. "Now, let these ladies in. They're freezing." And he winked at you.

Yuki wasted no time brushing past the still-skeptical bouncer, greeting your savior with open arms. "Sorry we're late, dude!" Playing up the act as if she'd done it a million times before, and the rest of your group quickly snagged their VIP wristbands before funneling into the booming venue.

It didn't click that you were getting in scot-free until the stranger looked back at you, waiting and holding the door open with a nod. "Coming?"

Your feet couldn't carry you fast enough, rushing forward as he took the last wristband, and secured it snugly around your wrist before flicking the neon star, looking down on you. "Perfect," he smirked. And for the sake of your steadily increasing heartbeat, you could only nod and avoid looking him in the eye.

Damn, what luck. And you slipped inside.

You had an idea of what crossing the threshold into the rave would be like, but your imagination fell unbelievably short.

Instant sensory overload—pulsing beats thumped through your chest, vibrating through the floor and into your bones. Vibrant strobe lights sliced through the dense fog of smoke machines, mixing with the heady air thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and a faint aroma of smoke.

Every corner seemed alive, packed with swirling seas of bodies moving in sync with the relentless EDM rhythm and snatching so much of your attention that you almost forgot your manners.

"Thanks! Thank you!" you tried to shout, feeling yourself slowly defrost in the humid, rave air. "And Rico."

Stretching your arms out, you admired how the fluorescent purple lights made your shirt, neon nails, and cute new star accessory glow in the hazy darkness. They subtly reflected on the stranger's muscle tee you didn't realize was so close to you. Becoming aware of his gaze at the same time he caught yours.

His drifted over your fishnet shirt, white, tight, and highlighting your already glistening skin adorn with oils and powders—yours drew to his silver eyebrow piercing then to the colorful ink cascading from behind his ears, down his neck, and disappearing into his shirt.

He looked like an undergrad student but would've had to start on a piece like that years ago to finish something so intricate that also flowed onto his arms.

Would his chest be tattooed, too? Now you were staring at it.

Blushing, you looked away, realizing you were actually chest level with a man who practically towered over you.

"Who's Rico?"

Your brows furrowed at the same time a glimmer of light caught a sneaky piece of jewelry, snug on the corner of his bottom lip. Smugly smiling, he held out his hand, urging you to take it.

What the fu—

For the second time that night, you were speechless.

Confusion flickered across your face as you hesitated, studying his confident vibe and easy smile that invited you to continue to trust him.

That calm and collected aura that had finessed your way into a forbidden space when you were ready to throw in the towel and give Yuki the old "I told you so."

Something about him was tempting—maybe the air of mystery draping over him that made you both curious and cautious.

Amidst the chaotic surroundings and nerves settling down after winging your luck, his so-sure presence demanded your attention. But it also made you wonder what he was doing it all for.

Regardless, it wasn't the time to get all psychological. Yuki and the others were already far ahead, soon to be lost in the crowd if you didn't catch up.

He bit his lip, watching your reservations gradually melt away as you nervously took his hand and returned his smile—welcoming yourself aboard the first ride of the night.

He easily parted the sea of people as you followed behind, almost immediately finding your group thanks to your roommate. Always easy to find, she unironically stands out in a crowd—tall, loud, and bursting with energy like everyone else lived in her background.

After socking her in the arm hard enough to bring her down a little for leaving you behind, your unofficial guide for the night suggested you all hit the bar for a round of shots, his treat.

Yuki held her hand to her chest with a smile, immediately forgetting the dull pain in her arm. Leaning in close to you, she whispered, "Okay, Mr. Moneybags." And he soon returned with an amount of alcohol that could rival a Frat Party.

Picking a shot up from the tray, he toasted, "To a great night."

"A kick-ass night!" Yuki added, and you rolled your eyes but clinked shots.

The neon green liquid that looked like coolant and battery acid had a baby flooded your system, making you wince with each swallow. Fruity, sour, and stronger than anything you'd had before. It set your insides of fire, and you tried your best not to show it, but Mr. Calm, Cool, and Collected thought it was cute.

"I'm not a kid," you commented when he suggested you slow down on the shots you were clearly struggling with. Damn Yuki and her 'see a shot, take a shot' rule. She'd always start with two and made sure everyone kept up with each other. "You don't have to baby me."

But how couldn't he with a pout that cute sitting on your face flushed from the eccentric liquor?

"Why'd you help us anyway?" you asked, leaning on the table your group surrounded.

He mimicked your actions, sharp brown eyes glinting as he explained that he was simply a Good Samaritan who happened to be in the right place at the right time to help some girls in need. "Some really cute ones," he said into your ear.

Your cheeks warmed—and not just from the alcohol—as he drew back just close enough to barely graze your ear with his soft lips.

He was flirting.

And you were a terrible flirt—always residing in the back seat, never driving the car. Letting things happen to you instead of engaging. An approach that almost always ended in disappointment.

But there he was, this sinfully attractive man, openly vying for your attention—and shamelessly unafraid to say it. Clearly already into you, evident by his increasingly intimate actions, and assumed you were too because you were still in his face and hadn't run off just yet.

So you wouldn't need to do much more, right? Just do what you've seen in the movies.

Pretending to be unfazed, you brushed off his compliment with a smile, tucking a braid behind your ear. "So...knight in shining armor, you got a name?"

He chuckled and straightened his stance, suddenly making you feel even smaller than before.

"Naoya," he smirked.

You raised your next shot, bright and pink like your shiny lipgloss. "To Naoya," you toasted, quickly downing it with a sly smile that said you were far from innocent. But the OPs couldn't stand to see you be great, sending a dribble to free-dive down the corner of your mouth.

Cupping your chin before you could react, Naoya swiped his thumb across your skin and nonchalantly placed it in his mouth.

"Sweet."

And good fucking God, you didn't know if he was talking about the drink or you. Watching him subtly roll his thumb between his lips made you exhale regardless. Just like—

Thankfully, Yuki came to your rescue, pulling you into the lively crowd before you could probably do or say something stupid.

Unrestrained laughter echoed from your circle, dancing to the pulsating beats.

Yuki, always the life of the party, twirled and pulled everyone into her orbit—your group and strangers alike—while Naoya stuck close. Every few minutes or so he'd mingled with the group he came with, letting them put a dent in most of the shots he bought, but he had a different interest in mind. Stealing flirty peeks at you as you bounced to the techno beat, effortlessly drawing your attention back to him, even in a sea of lingering gazes.

Each time your eyes met, a thrill shot through you that was both exciting and slightly unnerving.

The magnetism between you was undeniable, but another part of you wondered if you were getting too much into your head. Whether it was simply lust making him devour you with his eyes or if it was really just you. There was always the chance he could be just like all the others. And a waste of your time.

But you could only ping-pong your thoughts for so long, and in the end, the thrill of what-ifs, alcohol, and a hint of rebuked behavior outweighed your apprehension until it wasn't enough to matter.

Silly, even.

His attention was simply more intoxicating than the alcohol coursing through your veins.

Just the thought of being the focus of someone so undeniably captivating was enough to entice you to stay within his sight, kick caution to the curb, and give him a show.

Hungry glances swarmed your way, but Naoya just stood back and took you in.

Flashes of your supple cheeks under your reflective skirt, your hair brushing the nape of your neck in those high, perfectly grippable pigtails. Fleeting thoughts of how they'd look in his hands.

A sway here, a caress of your body there, and it was easy to lock him in. Making him give less than a fuck about the "competition" or how they nearly broke their necks to get a glimpse of you.

Because as he watched your fingers lazily glide up your velvety thighs, over your chest, and up your tender neck without a second of broken eye contact between you, he knew this meal was just for him.

And so the night went. Playing the Yandere game. Occasionally being stolen by Yuki or one of the girls to build up a sweat and tease the crowd with bumps and grinds and lingering hands on each other's waists. Syncing with one another. All of you lost in the moment and savoring the night that was far from over.

Until you blinked and a few hours had passed, drenched clothes clung to every body, the once-exuberant crowd thinned out, and the blinking venue lights signaled that the night's event was drawing to a close.

Yuki's face couldn't have been more distraught as she smoothed her sweaty hair back to showcase her pouting face. "What the fuck, dude, it feels like we just got here??"

You opened your mouth, ready to scold her and remind her that, once again, this was entirely her fault for being slower than a DMV line while getting ready, but decided it wasn't worth your breath.

However, Yuki's infectious energy was raging at its peak with no signs of fading, and made sure everyone knew. But what could you do?

Choke your anxiety down and try your luck again with another club, or God forbid, crawl back to frat parties?

Staying in the dorms and bingeing Rom-Coms and junk food would be more entertaining.

Still, Yuki made her problem everyone else's—whining and groaning. Loudly protesting that the fun was just getting started and going on as if her soul was being crushed. Theater was robbed the day she majored in Sociology.

So dramatic. And it should've been easy to say you were fine with calling it a night and returning to your much warmer bed.

But that would've been a lie.

Just a teeny tiny itty bitty one. But big enough to matter.

And you internally rolled your eyes so hard you could almost see stars.

Because Naoya was the reason why.

God, you hated yourself.

The promise of something more was enough to blow hearts into your eyes as it snuck in and wrapped you in its clutches. Trapping you in one of the most intense instances of sexual chemistry you'd felt in a while—budding, simmering, and patiently waiting to spill over.

It was mildly irritating, your mind filling with thoughts of where things could go with this guy you barely knew. That little pinch of hope for a chance of something happening—even after playing hard to get all night.

You wondered if you'd ever see him again.

Ah well. That's nightlife for you.

It was fun while it lasted, but Yuki's voice brought you back to reality, growing increasingly more annoying as your hearing started to return to normal.

Seconds away from you throttling her and telling her to grip, Naoya made his presence known again, having overheard Yuki's pleas to extend the night.

"I know a spot."

Surprise failed you because, of course he did.

Mr. "I know, Rico." It was kinda weird Yuki hadn't asked about Rico the second you all stepped inside but with the crowd as thick as it was earlier, finding him would've been nearly impossible anyway.

But this was too perfect—the savior suddenly swooping in twice in one night with open arms and no hint of wanting more. Maybe it was a coincidence. Maybe your super quiet, nearly non-existent hopes and prayers for a main character moment had been answered.

But you weren't young enough to be that much of an idiot.

Still, was it a bit silly to be so sketch? Second-guessing this "Good Samaritan"? This casual guy tucking his thumbs in his pockets and holding a self-assured, but trusting smile whom you didn't know from a can of paint?

The back and forth was exhausting.

As if reading your thoughts, his head slightly tilted, signaling the words you wouldn't say.

Could you? Would you?

The unspoken questions hung in the air like Yuki clung to your shoulders, practically begging you to live a little.

Either the night ended there or could evolve into something new.

You just had to use your words.

But a sigh was enough to make Yuki squeal, answer in hand before you could speak.

"Let's gooo," and she beelined out of the rave just as they were shutting down the bar and switching on the lights.

Goosebumps made an abrupt comeback. The transition from humid rave heat to brisk winter air instantly sobered your group, seeping into your pores and drying your sweat.

After making sure Yuki was good to drive, you practically ran to her car. Coincidently sitting just a row over from Naoya's.

Yuki gawked at the sleek, red sports car. "Well, color me impressed." Its blinding headlights flickered as Naoya unlocked it.

You hadn't known someone with a car that nice since the Geto's.

"Follow me to the next spot?" he laughed, leaning on the car's roof.

If there weren't so many of you, he'd tell all of you to hop in and make yourselves comfortable, but he also knew your guards would be up—as they should.

His head tipped at Yuki, but he kept his eyes on you. "Keep her safe, ya?" And ducked into the car.

Your face didn't feel so cold after that.

"Girl."

You squinted in disbelief.

"Is this a junkyard?"

In the middle of old car parts and rusting scraps of metal, a steel warehouse glimmered in the moonlight, confirming that it was. Strobe lights shot out, lighting the bubble of space in the darkness as it came into view.

And just when you thought there had to be some mistake, some wrong turn taken at some point down the long, dark gravel road through the trees, Naoya's car cruised through the chain-link fence, finally stopping in the dirt path after the 30-minute drive outside the city limits.

This was unreal.

Alt Rock—Phoenix?—vibrated through Yuki's car, barely contained by the warehouse walls as it blasted into the open air.

"What the..." You lost your words for the third damn time that night.

The hell is this? Who is this guy???

Asking questions had been the least of Yuki's concerns earlier. Or during the lengthy drive there as you repeatedly asked her if she knew where you guys were. She was just happy to have her prayers to keep the night going and finish burning energy answered—damn how—and repeatedly said you guys would be fine.

But a warehouse?? A damn warehouse???

An after-hours club, house party, hell, even a dive bar came to mind when Naoya said he knew a spot.

What a spot to know and you noticed the numerous cars scattered throughout the dirt yard as you looked around.

Black leather skirts and oversized jackets littered the crowd. Ripped stockings and Demonia's hugged nearly every leg.

This was a scene you weren't familiar with, not that you discriminated, but other than Yuki, the rest of you would be glaringly sticking out like a sore thumb. Neon colors clearly weren't the move here, and you all looked like walking glow sticks in a sea of scene kids and black lipstick—sure to be noticed the second you stepped out of the car.

You knew you should've trusted your gut.

"At least the music's good," Yuki said as if reading your thoughts. Her head bobbed to the seductive beat. “🎶He’s just tryna be cooool.🎶”

You could strangle her.

"C'mon, lighten up," she said, unfazed by your distressed face. "Think of it as an adventure." She turned to the back seat. "Right girls?"

Shoko had stopped caring long ago, and Utahime, still buzzing from the rave, was down for whatever.

Freshman year you probably would've shaken you by your shoulders and called you a pussy by now.

But why were you acting brand new? You knew what this was. Been knew from the moment you agreed to go out with Yuki this weekend that something as crazy as this happening had always been on the table.

She was always so daring, so spontaneous and unpredictable. Always relaxed and in control no matter the situation—all of what drew you into her in the first place. The perfect roommate.

She reminded you of what you used to be—what you were trying to get back to. Even if it meant repeatedly pressing all of your buttons.

You pinched your brows together, secretly regretting the day you born.

"Fine."

"Fuck yeah!" And not a second later, her car whipped into a makeshift parking spot so fast you almost got whiplash.

Just ahead, Naoya hopped out of his car, cooly walking up. "Ha, you made it," he joked, but your resting bitch said nothing was funny.

"Okay, okay, look, I know what this looks like," he began, apologizing for not giving you guys a heads-up. But trust me."

A breeze danced across his face, tousling his bangs and showing off the subtle glint in his pretty brown eyes. And as if on cue, his lips curled into the signature smile you knew was coming, once again offering his hand.

"Will you?"

...Godfkindammit.

What the hell is happening here?

Those butterflies just would not give you a break. And neither would Yuki if you turned him down, especially after coming this far already.

You cursed under your breath and took his hand, hoping the flutters would go away, but only passed them on to him.

His lip ring flashed as he smiled, his fingers lacing with yours.

"Super sweet."

And welcomed you into his territory.

Throughout your life, you've learned that looks can be deceiving. And if you had forgotten, example A stood front and center in that moment.

On first glance, it may have looked like a glaring OSHA violation, but what the warehouse lacked on the outside, it made up for with a jaw-dropping inside.

Head falling back, you marveled at the intricate web of large steel beams weaving throughout the vaulted ceiling. Dancing light bounced off the metal, one-up the rave and casting colorful shadows on the floor, walls, and everyone inside.

Drum-heavy bass and gritty guitar riffs ripped through the speakers, welcoming you. Pulling you into an underground world that was very welcoming to Naoya too.

A hot commodity, nearly every face you saw couldn't help but smile and greet him on the walk-in. Unable to resist his charm. Pandering for even a hint of attention even though his hand remained fixed on you, pulling you through the crowd and bringing a blush to your face. It was clear you were his guest.

Oak and orange blossom clashed with the sharp tang of industrial machinery, heavily perfuming the air thanks to the dense, edgy crowd, but at least it wasn't as packed as the rave. Quite the opposite actually—the space here was wide open, yet surprisingly insulated against the cold. It'd be hard to get lost, but you still told Yuki not to run off because you knew what was coming next.

"Shot o'clock!"

Surprising.

And this time, they were on her.

"A toast, to Naoya." The glass glistened in the lights as she held it high. "And this totally cool spot."

She linked arms with Shoko and Utahime and they tossed their shots back together. Leaving you out—no doubt on purpose.

Naturally, Naoya looked to you, completely oblivious to the ritual but willing to play along if you were.

You steeled your nerves, deciding to get the girls back for that later, and snaked your arm around his muscled one. Snug. Close. No big deal. People totally don't do super intimate things like this at weddings or anything.

Looking him in the eye, you grinned. "To you again." And downed the shot in sync, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat. Spreading a fuzzy feeling through your body all over again and helping you settle into the reality of the night.

This environment was different.

There was an air of exclusivity in the space—his vibe—this place meant for the in-crowd—something to be a part of that he had access to and personally invited you into.

Like remnants of high school. Drawing you in like a magnet.

And this time, you stuck close to Naoya. Baiting his attention again.

His lingering gaze drew curious glances from your friends that you were quick to brush off, but even you couldn't ignore the nuzzle heat from the way his eyes bore into your swaying frame.

As if you weren't already fully aware, your favorite two-toned brunette, Utahime, kept raising eyebrows at you and tipping her head his way real "smooth-like". Totally not right in front of him where it was super noticeable and embarrassingly obvious.

When she got fed up with your shy act, she lovingly wrapped her arms around your neck, making you both sync to the beat. With a slightly tipsy smile on her face, she said just loud enough for you to hear, "Go get that dick." And quickly twirled you around until you posted right in front of Naoya.

A ditzy look plastered on your face as you froze. Slowly meeting his eyes with a flushed look of embarrassment that pulled a smile out of him. You looked so cute trying to hold yourself together and seem unbothered. But if it weren't for the alcohol swimming through your system, you might've bailed.

Yet, liquid courage ran through you, hell-bent on making you step into your bad bitch shoes because confidence lived in your blood.

If there was any chance of finding out if this was real or not, it was now never.

Eyes locked—his having never stopped eyefucking you—you both smirked. With a tip of your hand and slightly wobbly knees, you invited the man who made you ache between your thighs to dance.

With a small laugh, he gently bit his lip, finding you cute enough to plant a kiss on your wrist then pull you close. "About time," he said, fingers digging into your waist.

What a pretty face you made when you were surprised. But you surprised him right back when you twirled around, your ass grazing his front as you closed the gap between you.

If he was going to beg for your attention, he had to prove he could handle it, and gradually, you relaxed enough to dance—curves winding in beat with the flowy rhythm—enticing him to take the bait and dance his hands along your waist. Syncing rhythm, closeness, and heat to slowly rebuild a sweat.

Your head, light as a feather, fell back against his chest, exposing your shimmery neck. Sugary sweet scents you doused yourself in earlier drew him into your sweet spot, stifling your breath as his grazed your skin, erasing your final remnants of hesitation.

The instinct to draw your hands to his hair reminded you that the freedom to let go was a drug. A heady, intoxicating sensation that mingled with the pleasure of his hands slipping along your thighs and climbing up your sides like ecstasy until you opened your hazy eyes and stared it in the face. Pale blue, tiny, and snug between his peace fingers.

Gasping, you swiftly faced a grinning Naoya.

"What is—"

"X", he replied so casually, as if he hadn't just practically shoved a drug in your face without warning.

What the hell was with this guy???

The anxiety you worked to snuff out all night quickly clawed its way out.

From the moment you met Naoya, he'd been a walking enigma who kept going for broke.

The borderline reckless and carefree attitude could even one-up Yuki's, and freshman you definitely couldn't hold a candle. At least the unhinged version of you knew better than to throw caution to the wind and go around looking for randos who happen to do dRUGS???

What if you were like an undercover cop or something, you thought, crossing your glitter-covered arms.

Was his brain constantly on go—never taking a second to think before acting—or was he so confident in himself that he didn't care if others judged him?

It kinda sounded familiar...and was awfully cringe to think about.

But fuck that, how often did he do this?? Go around seducing girls, saving the day, then dragging them to nowhere to—

"An adventure."

What?

Aw, fuck.

God, fuck, there she goes again.

Feet away, yet in your ear, in case you thought you could ever escape her.

Yuki's annoyingly convincing voice echoed through your head like peer pressure on steroids, telling you to chill the fuck out and stop overthinking. Asking you in the most mocking tone your brain could conjure up, "What are you so afraid of?"

Sure, you were a virgin to the world of party drugs...but you couldn't say you'd never been curious.

Degrassi, Skins, and shows alike all set the bar for what college life was supposed to look like long ago, and drugs almost always had a seat at the table—glimmering and glamorized all over television. Surrounded by fun and pretty people.

But you knew fuck all about ecstasy outside of what high school Health Ed class said it would feel like: energy and euphoria— compressed into a colorful little pill.

It wasn't...the best argument against it.

Still, you were a little virgin baby. Aside from alcohol, you'd only flirted with Mary Jane, and that was only a couple of times at a few frat parties freshman year. You didn't exactly have a bucket list for drugs.

But there it was, an opportunity presenting itself.

And as skeptical as you were about Naoya—the mystery, the conveniences, the 'too good to be true' personality that kept poking you in the gut—those same yellow flag, along with his cunning, almost taunting demeanor, dared you to step up to the plate.

Even now, his confident gaze swallowed your doe eyes with a look you couldn't turn away from—thumb gently pressing into your waist with a silent reassurance. In a 'you don't have to do it' kind of way that seemed to take all the weight off.

Still, he tipped his head, gave you a firm squeeze and a grin, and said, "Take it with me—if you want." And sat the split pill, SKY written on it in tiny letters, right on the edge of his pink tongue.

You thought about home. And then you thought about the thrill you'd been searching for all your life. God...

If this went wrong, at least the girls were nearby to kick his teeth in.

You swallowed hard.

There was only one way to say yes, and it rushed out of your mouth before Yuki's voice could taunt you again.

"An adventure," you breathed, quickly diving in before anyone could see—wrapping your tongue around his and tasting bitterness on yours. Ignoring your racing heart from the sheer audacity to be so bold.

His lip lingered on yours until he was sure you swallowed the metallic pill, a small string of slick glistening as he pulled away.

"An adventure," he repeated before flashing his trademark smile and pulling your arms around his neck.

It finally hit you what Naoya reminded you of. Something you used to look for on purpose. Something that required a bit of work and a firm resolve.

Effort.

A challenge.

And it was time to play catch up.

Minutes felt like hours waiting for something, anything, to happen, but Naoya's secure grasp held you and your attention as you danced. Firm. Warm. Melting.

Melting?

Indeed melting—fingers dipping into the divots of your hips as if they could sink through like butter—coaxing your head to lazily float back under the wavy touch. Wavering a moment and brushing Naoya's fingertips with the ends of your waist-length pigtails that were growing increasingly easier to grab.

Pretty steel beams. Were they always this mesmerizing? Or close? Like they would sink to your level just so you could grab on. Or maybe you'd always been 20 feet tall and never knew?

Naoya snickered, holding the weight you practically threw into his arms. Admiring the strobes of light bathing your softly rising and falling chest as you fell into a trance—your body turning to jelly before you even realized it was happening.

But the awareness of your suddenly heavy eyelids and increasingly ridiculous thoughts of the ceiling slapped you down to earth, sending you into a mini panic. Head, heavier than ever, pulling forward until your fluttering eyes met Naoya's blown-out gaze. Staring. Drinking in every subtle change in your warm, flushed face.

A satisfied smirk played on his lips, watching your mouth part and breaths slow. Dying to close the imaginary and real gap that opened and shut between you all night until he once again flushed his skin against yours. And this time, a switch flipped; it wasn't just his proximity making your chest buzz. You swore you were sharing vibrations.

Warmth grew in your core at his touch. The oh-so-unbelievably soft yet coarse yet caressible feel of his skin pulsing against yours. Flooding your veins, spreading from your tongue to the tips of your fingers.

You were tingling.

And couldn't stop tingling.

And knew you couldn't stop tingling no matter how hard you tried, and for some reason, the euphoric thought made you break out into an uncontrollable grin.

"There she is." Naoya lifted your chin, vibrant colors blurring together on his face like a kaleidoscope.

All you wanted to do was stare at him, the array of colors on the cement floor, and the dizzying visual rhythm beating with the music. Like Nang was literally seeping into your bones, begging you to float and finally touch those steel beams.

God, you'd never been so happy you made a decision. That you chose to be here—that he chose you—that you trusted Yuki, the girls, and yourself enough to get out of your rut and end up here. In the arms of a guy you wanted nothing more than to finally give in and slob down from head to toe for being so hot and intoxicating and slyly nibbling on his lip ring every single time you locked eyes.

"Here I am," you said, teasing a grin you hoped was as good as his. Feeling alive, truly alive for the first time that year—completely immersed in the chaotic blend of lights, sounds, and bodily surrealism. Bliss peeled away your breath as his feverish hands danced along your body in a way that was too much and never enough.

Dainty fingers found your outstretched neck, pleasure etching on your face as you caressed the sensitive areas begging to be touched. Fingertips, music, ego, and air binding like sex in a sinful combo—evident by the full display of the undercuff of your ass, eliciting stifled moans from Naoya as your hips swirled into him.

That state of you was telling, and he hoped he didn't give you too much, but your ass looked so goddamn perfect, molding around the growing ache in his already tight jeans. Like you were trying to pull something out of him, but he only laughed to himself because he was sure you'd actually melt into a puddle if he sank his hands into your plush cheeks.

You looked amazing—you felt amazing—everything was amazing—and should always feel like this, you thought.

This high, this joy, this love—it was universal.

Easy.

So very easy to give and take—and deserving,

Everyone deserved love in some away.

And suddenly you were an ecstasy evangelist, slipping from Naoya's arms into the pulsating crowd.

Naturally gravitating to a drunken Utahime, her swaying form coming into focus with bright and infectious laughter amidst the haze. So happy. So carefree. You just had to have some, reaching out to grab her hand and pull her close.

"Isn't this—your breath felt so light, "—just the best?" You shouted over the music, your voice a mix of exhilaration and disbelief.

You laughed, the sound almost lost amongst the beats, as you tugged Utahime closer. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity and amusement, but her attention drew to the sheer ecstasy etched onto your face.

"Seriously," you said, pressing her hand to your chest, "This is everything."

Utahime's smile was warm, but her brows slightly furrowed. "You've, uh, finally come around, ya?"

She hadn't seen this side of you since you'd met. A state that was a little beyond tipsy, but she couldn't put her finger on it.

Shoko sidled up—the least drunk in the group—casually draping her arm over the girl you knew she'd been secretly dating since the beginning of the semester. Cigarette tucked behind her ear like she was going out to smoke soon, but holding a knowing grin. Her gaze swept over you, lingering for just a moment too long before she said, "Someone's certainly having a good time."

Correction, you were having a fantastic time. Everyone should be, you thought, so glad to have all of your girls with you before realizing that someone was missing. And like you knew she would, Yuki had run off. Probably huddled up by a wall, towering over some poor guy or girl by now.

But Shoko's tone flew right over your head—the heat of the crowd catching you in its web. Your body hadn't stopped moving since you came into the circle—a complete slave to the contagious energy and music. Leaving your swaying hips all vulnerable, freely out in the open and unattended to.

Such a shame, some guy thought, someone should take care of that.

It wasn't until you felt a pair of hands glue to your waist and heat against your back that you stopped mid-motion. Rough, almost aggressive, and hasty gropes squeezing your hips but losing you in the manic energy. And as if it were a natural extension of the night's chaos, the sensation rolled your body into the unfamiliar touch in a way that felt out of your control.

And pissed Naoya off.

He'd been watching the entire show from where you left him, allowing you to go off to be with your girls, not a slut for anyone else.

He tsked, his usually smooth demeanor cracking as he glared. Watching you casually give away what was his to some random guy. As if he meant nothing. As if you didn't owe him.

And the sight of the guy's face—smug and sleazy as if he'd hit the jackpot—and his grubby hands inching closer to the grand prize between your thighs, sent Naoya right over the edge.

He moved swiftly through the crowd, eyes locked on you, pulling you away so quickly you missed the way his jaw clenched. Grip firm but controlled as he wove pasted a stunned Shoko and Utahime, through the space, and out into the cool night air.

The warehouse loomed above, its graffiti-splattered walls bathed in the glow of the quarter moon. Fingers gliding over the dusty lines, you traced the art, trailing Naoya who pulled you behind him until he reached the back.

He took a deep breath, trying to mask his unexpected jealousy, but the way you were being so ditzy and cute and oblivious to the world only added fuel to the fire.

You didn't mean to, his reaction was just so funny, especially when he looked so flustered trying to hide his lingering scowl with a slick grin that, for the first time that night, didn't reach his eyes.

And you wouldn't stop fucking laughing, even as he kept walking towards you until your back hit the warehouse wall.

But that smile was deceiving.

His hand shot out, grabbing a hold of your face, fingers digging into your cheeks and tilting your chin so he could look into your glazed-over eyes.

"Such a pretty girl," he murmured. your lips feeling like putty as he teased with his thumb,

Though his words seemed sweet, a twinge of unease sparked in your chest watching his eyes turn dark, sadistic. Hungry. The playful facade shattering, earning your undivided attention and bringing your giggles to a halt when you realized he wasn't fucking around.

Your eyes widened. Whatever you'd been teasing all night had finally awoken and stood at your door. Ready to devour your faltering heart as slow, heavy breaths escaped your glossed lips.

He had to taste them.

And did, lips crashing onto yours, teeth and tongue dominating your mouth until you moaned into his.

Your arm wrapped around his neck, searching for leverage against the furious energy, before feeling it pin to the wall. His other hand slipped from your face, ghosting from your jaw to your neck—squeezing lightly, almost growling, and stealing your breath.

He pulled away, his eyes following his finger tracing the maze of net resting over your chest. Taking your glinting belly ring—the perfect match to his lip ring—between his thumb and forefinger, eliciting a slight groan from you when he tugged.

He smirked—the face you made when you winced was even prettier than your surprise face. He wondered what other ones he could get out of you.

And just when you thought the torture was over, his fingers slid around your back, finally twisting into one of your pigtails with a pull.

Your head snapped back and his lips attached to your neck, breath hot against your skin as he inhaled your intoxicating scent—biting, sucking, trying to mark you. Mind flashing to the guy he should've punched for even looking at you.

You gasped, being forced to use your free arm to hold onto him when his leg swept between your thighs, propping you up on his knee.

He groaned into your neck—your panties were absolutely ruined—damping his skin with so much stringy slick, he struggled to keep himself from rutting into you.

But your hips wouldn't stop moving even if you tried. Grinding into the friction that felt like fire every time your clit bumped into a rip in his jeans. So disgusting lewd, but you were growing so warm with each pulsing thump. Unashamedly needing more. And painting his skin with juicy kisses.

Damn, he thought, smirking against your skin at your whimpers. Wondering if you'd start panting like a dog in heat as your fucks to give flew out the window. Mind only fixed on the lip-biting flick of your feverish clit that made your walls clench around nothing.

But he wouldn't let you cum that easily. At least not like that. No, he needed to do it himself.

He pinned you still, grip tight on your waist and lips finding yours when you whined from the lost of sensation. Sneaking a hand under your skirt and making you moan into his mouth when he grabbed your ass. Finally feeling your soft and warm and plush curves melt into his fingers.

"I want you," he said between kisses.

Your mews as your pressed into his touch told him you wanted him too, but he needed to hear you say it.

Fingers crawling under your things, he drew slow, long hot lines across your skin until they reached your parted valley. Your breath hitched, knowing where he was heading, but you spread wider, hoping he would hurry and get there faster. Inching closer and closer to your sweet heat with a slow breath, he brought you nearer and nearer to a rapture you seldomly experienced when he suddenly stopped at the precipice.

"Say it."

Your brows furrowed.

"Tell me what you want."

You spit out the only thing you knew. "I want you." And your mouth fell open feeling a warm pad on your clit. His thumb just resting there, feeling you throb through your thin g-string. Waiting to see if you'd be so bold as to hump him again. Whining and writhing instead, you fell prey to the touch that was light to most but dizzying in the world of E.

"You want me to what?"

Your cheeks warmed. God, was he gonna drag it out of you if you didn't say it?

Once more, you latched your mouth onto his to avoid saying so, only to accidentally bite the inside of his bottom lip when two fingers roughly pushed inside you.

"Fuck, you're so tight." And warm and soaked.

He didn't even care that you almost bit a hole into him, only focused on stuffing you full until resistance finally gave way and swallowed his fingers.

Your stomach tightened, legs drawing together only to be blocked by his knee as his fingers swam deeper than the nails you dug into his back until he bottomed out.

Fire grew in your hand, his grip sliding from your arm to pin your wrist. You started to squirm. It was too much at once.

And made Naoya's dick stand on ten watching your body resist but betray itself by continuing to make his fingers glisten in the moonlight.

You poor things who couldn't make up your mind, Naoya thought. Teasing him all night only to run from his fingers.

If you were squeezing that tight around two little digits, he wondered how you'd feel on his dick. How long it would take for your eyes to roll into the back of your head.

How quickly he could pull an orgasm out of you.

He let your arm fall, his slipping under to palm your ass and pull you closer. Tightening around your waist so you couldn't escape his fingers brutally pumping into you.

"ff-fUCK!" A gasp ripped from your chest, your eyes screwing shut at the blazing sin that just rippled through your body.

What was thAT???

A funny button in you was assaulted over and over and over again, forcing your walls to clench on command and send fiery tingles straight to your clit.

Desperate hands scrambled to find purchase around his neck, holding on for dear life. You felt yourself go tense at the relentless rhythm, but even moreso at the unfamiliar face shooting through your core. Slender fingers rutting in and pumping out—running juices down his wrist.

The squelching sounds penetrated your ears, mouth falling open as drool began to dribble down. You felt your brain fizzling out, eyes going cross—he was hitting that same spot over and over and over again. Dragging the breath from your lungs with every dip. And the few whines you failed to suppress that did slip out, couldn't compete with his merciless strokes. Purposefully working an angle that sent swarms of vibrations to your curling toes.

An unfamiliar warmth began to pool in your walls, making his dick twitch feeling your little pulses start to clench around his fingers. You were so close so fast, but then he slowed.

"Now tell me what you want."

You could die.

Literally die from the embarrassment, the desperation, the filthy way you were still trying to steal back even a smidge of that foreign but addicting touch by attempting to wiggle your hips you knew he wouldn't allow out of place—if you weren't hoping to die on his fingers first.

But a desperate pout formed, knowing he wouldn't give it to you without you folding.

And your pathetic pussy begged you to bend.

"I-I wan..." He grabbed your chin when your lips pursed closed, slotting his thumb between them to open them again.

No more hiding, no more silence, no more games.

His other thumb pressed right on your clit, fingers curling and stilling right against that magic button that blew fireworks into your rolling eyes. He was gonna make you talk.

And with a shaky breath, defeated and damn near pleading, you begged. "Please...make me c-cum." Looking at him like you were feeble and yearning. Like his demand was all that mattered. "Please."

There it was.

The submission he'd been waiting for all night.

Flushed cheeks and helpless doe eyes. Puffy lips slowly closing around his thumb and planting desperate kisses.

Neediness staring him in the face.

No longer caring that he literally had you wrapped around his finger.

He smirked, fighting the urge to cum just from sight. Right where he wanted you. Less was said.

You gaped when his knee moved, swiftly falling a few inches before he lifted your thigh—pressing it against the wall to spread you wide.

Sounds of your vinyl skirt stretching ripped through the air, and you should've been worrying about the possibility of it tearing if it weren't for fingers stealing your focus again. He hummed feeling easily slip back in, middle and ring fingers this time to hook perfectly inside and blow your g-spot to absolute smithereens.

Crying out, you almost drew blood from your lip as your body went rigid, clinging to him. The sensation you were just ready to sell your soul for relentlessly spamming on 1000.

If it was borderline too much before, with this new angle that lended him direct access, it was torturously too much now. But he could care less if you clawed his back to death as you tried to run to and run from the mouth-watering intensity.

Your pussy sounded so good for him, making him moan and grind his dick into your thigh like it was an extension of his fingers. Leaving hot kisses on your neck as his thumb drew dizzying circles on your clit. Making your toes flex and shaky foot slowly rise up off the ground. Obliterating what was left of free thought as your breath hitched.

He took in your rapturous face, feeling a rush of power and control surge through his veins. The authority he had over your body as he wrestled moans out of you filled him with an intoxicating sense of dominance.

Every gasp, every tremble, only fueled his intention to give you exactly what you didn't know you needed all night. To completely unravel under his command.

The fiery pool returned with a brain-altering vengeance and your pulses grew stronger and closer until he was absolutely positive you were seconds away from tasting heaven. And looking dead on into your blurry eyes, he finally gave you permission.

"Cum."

And the tight coil ruthlessly snapped. Walls surrendering to the all-consuming touch that sent your eyes rolling as your pussy harshly clenched on his fingers. Body arching into the fervid touch before you stopped breathing and your colorful vision went white.

Pornographic moans finally broke from you, loud and lewd and desperate enough you were sure you could draw a crowd.

And what a sight it was for Shoko to witness the very moment you tumbled into rapture, cigarette she stepped outside to smoke almost slipping from her lips.

The only witness of you climbing aboard the ecstasy train didn't think it would have led you this far, but the pledge you made earlier that year to swear off your freshman-year antics—sex and relationships included—was clearly long forgotten. Utahime didn't believe you, often provoked you even, and Shoko, not knowing you as well, just took our word for it.

But there you were, living out your wildest Skins dream. Holding hands with the Little Death with a side of alcohol and ecstasy. Cries falling on deaf ears and he continued to fuck you through your blinding orgasm.

Main character energy, she thought as she lit her cigarette, turning to leave before she was noticed. Taking note to maybe try that with Utahime one day.

Minutes later, you returned on the scene with Bambi legs, finding Shoko leaning against the entrance door. She stayed up front to make sure you made it back in safely and ignored the slick running down your legs you couldn't clean up until you got to the restroom. Naoya gave her a knowing win as he trailed behind you, but she got a weird feeling.

She was all for you finally having a bit of fun, but there was something specifically about Naoya that didn't sit right with her.

Maybe it was the way he carried himself, too cocky and self-assured. Or maybe it was his sly smirk that seemed to hint at something slightly predatory, looking at you in a way that felt less like affection or even lust and more like possession.

But maybe she was just thinking too hard and this was just a simple hookup you needed to shake off your shackles, put yourself back out there and never see the guy again.

That's what college life was. Hookup, discard, and repeat. Just another wild night to bank in your core memory.

And the night had certainly been beyond magic, and definitely home to one of the most intense orgasms you'd ever had, and when you thought back on it, that was one of the few times someone else managed to get you off...ever. But when you really took a moment to think about it, especially knowing what you know now, the more you chalked it up to probably being because of the drugs.

In actually, the frantically hot and spontaneous encounter that had you talking to God (very...interesting conversation) probably wouldn't have been that great if you were in your right mind, but your intoxicated hormones in the heat of the moment didn't care because it was a hell of a lot better than what you were used to.

Before that night, having big the 'O' during sex was like a myth to you.

Satisfaction either always narrowly escaped your grasp or was never on the table from the beginning, and for a while, you thought it was normal to always be left hot, bothered, and wanting more, ever since you first learned to do the horizontal dance.

Your own satisfaction was never a priority, never thought of or talked about, not even to yourself. With every partner, you made sure they were well taken care of, that they met sweet relief with heavy breaths and a smile on their sweaty faces every time. While your desires laid brushed aside, unspoken and unexplored.

But that night with Naoya was different—he was the first to turn the focus on you, the first time someone had taken care of you, even if it was grasping at straws.

He pined for your attention. He gave you effort. A night full of impulsivity, unpredictability, mystery, and challenge—all wrapped up in a flaming hot bow.

Everything you thought you lost, everything you thought you needed in a boyfriend.

Having one of those was a staple in high school that you missed out on because of your hectic and busy schedule on the road. So when you got to college, you sure knew how to pick them. Freshman year was a joke.

You went through one relationship and one 'situationship' before throwing in the towel in favor of hookups. At least those were less painful and had a clear deadline for when they would end.

No surprises, no heartaches, no one to blame. Just a mutual parting

But Naoya was something you simply could not walk away from, and by the way he stuck to you like glue for weeks, randomly popping up at your campus and whisking you away into his world for hours on end until you made him your boyfriend, neither could he.

Everything about being with Naoya was perfect.

His eagerness to chauffer his passenger princess around in his real-life Hot Wheel, taking you to the coolest spots, just like that night, and introducing you to all kinds of mesmerizing people. Always ending the night with feverish, snaking hot that groped your willing body into submission and made you feel more special than anyone else he could ever know.

His.

The ideal boyfriend: attentive and charismatic. A constant thrill.

A bit too much of a thrill.

Slowly, but surely merging into a slightly loose canon as unexpected droplets of a storm began to form. His charm and attention and lust and want and need for you were still there, but so were the cracks that gradually began to chip and show.

For one, Naoya wasn't in school, which was fine; instead, he called himself an entrepreneur. Though, exactly what he did was always a bit of a mystery.

His days were filled with handling sketchy 'business deals' and half-baked schemes that, over time, almost always failed and ended with him turning to you to help bail him out.

Your brains, your beauty, your sweet charm.

Whatever he could use to settle a deal and handle business.

It was what girlfriends did, you thought. Supporting your man was something you never second-guess, never even questioned as you knew he would have your back as much as you had his.

Until he didn't.

Having a habit of making big promises and diving headfirst into opportunities that almost always seemed too good to be true, that fearless confidence you fell in love with, once landed him in an embarrassing mess.

Weeks spent bragging about a "surefire" investment with one of his partners to not only end up in the red but also behind bars. And on the phone sounding like a kicked puppy. Asking you to bail him out.

It was the first time either of you had been thrust into such a serious situation, even if it was just a small charge, but Naoya swore it wasn't a big deal. Admitting that he had made mistakes but promising his intentions were pure.

"I did it for us," he said, voice lined with shame and apology, repeating that you deserved better but that he was trying—really trying—to give you everything you needed. So full of regret for even slightly jeopardizing what you two had built and you had never heard him so vulnerable and sorry as he promised it would never happen again.

Dragging your heart into the ground.

But as painful as it was to hear your boyfriend plead to save your relationship, nothing could have prepared you for the pain of swiping your card and watching the last of your savings disappear to keep it going.

Making up your mind that this was just another storm to weather amidst the whirlwind of hurricanes that was Naoya because he had been so good to you. Surely you could look over his idiotic mistake and help him out this one time. He only did it for you after all. 

To you, he had his quirks. To everyone else, he was shit.

But being there for him kind of reminded you of why you chose healthcare.

Your pocket vibrated, making you let go of your souvenir and memories of that night as you fished out your phone before sighing.

Speak of the Devil, you'd just thought him up.

"Hi, baby."

"Hey babe, how's my Doll?"

You relaxed on the bench, blushing. He sounded like he was in a good mood—always did when he used the little nickname he gave you that made you feel so small and safe.

Stress slowly left your body as you vented about work and how you were not looking forward to getting off only to clock right back in to study for your upcoming exam when you returned to your dorm.

"Aw, baby." You thought you could hear him pout through the phone. "How 'bout we blow off some steam when you're done? A little reward?"

You raised a brow. "Whatcha got in mind?" Hoping it wasn't the usual invitation to just 'solve your problems' with sex or some wild night on the town.

"One of the guys found his Nintendo 64, and I thought we could borrow it and play some games, ya?"

"Oooo," you sat up. "What games?" You hadn't had time to plop down in front of a TV to watch a show, let alone play a game in years.

"Uhh, mostly action, RPG and fantasy. Some kid games like Mario Kart and Lego Racers, but I was thinking we could 1V1 in J-League."

And suddenly, you were back in a familiar living room you hadn't seen in years.

Plush, brown carpet soft beneath your thighs, you sat cross-legged, Wii controller cool in your hands. Room dim, the glow of the TV casts flickering lights across your eyes as sounds of fast-paced music fill your ears.

Suguru nudges your shoulder, "C'mon keep up." And smiles.

And you gently smile back, feeling pulled into the waves of nostalgia. The memory and others alike always so soft, so easy. So comforting to fall into the world of one of the last times you two had fun together, before he made high school hell.

Now you were sure he was off somewhere traveling the world and living his best life.

Your life.

What it was supposed to be.

The walls were back up to shield you from the bittersweet ache.

Naoya was right. Mario Kart was for kids.

"You still there?"

"Ya, babe." You sighed to yourself, reminding yourself that those who needed to be in your life we're here now, not in the past. "I would love to. You're best." You smiled.

He laughs. "In bed, too."

..debatable.

extended angel's note: i hope you guys didn't mind the little "diversion" this story had to take (i am not in control) BUT i promise it all serves a purpose. your basket should be good and full with enough little easter eggs now to finally close out the story in part 3 where it all comes together to absolutely blow your angsty socks (and panties) off. it'll all be worth the wait (is highkey the morale of the story 🤠) thank you for rocking with me

p.s. sorry for the Naoya jumpscare but how are we all feeling about your lovely boyfriend 🤩💗

tag list: @7thsthings @elliesndg @jirishnesensei @blkkizzat

[jojolightningfingers]

not done yapping about ace actually do you know there's people out there who think that ace was shanghai'd into joining the whitebeard pirates? that's insane to me. chapter 552, go read it again right now. it could not possibly be less of one if it TRIED.

like. ace is the aggressor in that situation. indisputably. whitebeard was minding his own business and all of a sudden along comes this young punk who makes it incredibly clear that he's here to take whitebeard's head. who then spurns the unwarranted hospitality they show him when he passes out after five days of fighting jinbei to a standstill. they treat his wounds and he still tries to kill their captain. the simple fact that ace wasn't strung up and quartered as an example is FAR more leniency than he could have expected in that situation, especially considering that whitebeard is known to be a person who adheres to a strict code of honor: sure they might all know that ace just flat isn't strong enough to kill whitebeard, but it's the principle of the thing.

but no! they let him stay aboard and recover. they do no harm to ace's crew or ship in the interim, aside from the incident pertaining to the spade pirates trying to get THEIR captain back in which the whitebeard pirates AGAIN are NOT the aggressors. none of them were killed. no manhunt was ordered on them. they ALSO are allowed to stay aboard. they let ace make attempt after attempt on whitebeard's life for seemingly weeks, possibly even months. and to top it all off, after who knows how long of that shenanigans occurring DAILY, it is straight up said in plain text that ace is free to leave. he can take his ship and take his crew and leave, and come back and try again once he gets stronger. subtext: he can also leave and not come back, and nobody will pursue him.

he is ALSO free to choose to stay on the moby dick. but the price for doing that is a--frankly QUITE reasonable--'stop trying to kill our captain and join us'. like they ask the absolute bare fucking minimum of him and they leave the choice up to him. absolutely nowhere in the text is any sort of coercion or manipulation. it is an offer, not an ultimatum. and it's one that ace accepts. that's all. that's all that happens.

[mukimokai]

okay no cuz why is every kinich ship valid smh

TW: LONG ASS RAMBLING BUT FUNNY SILLY CUTSIE I PROMISE

kinlani is kinlani. like omg have you seen them: sunshine social butterfly girlfriend and her introverted moon boyfriend that she loves unconditionally. And it's a new concept for her once abused boyfriend who thinks everything comes at a cost: who gets confused when Mualani just loves him without asking for anything in return and he just loves it so much it makes him weak for her; he'd do anything for her without asking for payment like he does with anyone else because she helped him heal and she's his darling little wife who he'd do anything for.

ajawnich (ajaw with the ability to go into human form because seriously. we NEED human ajaw in more ways than one) is your typical doomed mortal x immortal tragedy in which a dragon who is new to human emotions and thinks lowly of humans slowly starts to understand humanity over the years with his infuriating yet kind human companion. Both are emotionally constipated fools; Ajaw pining like a lovesick idiot because he's supposed to hate his companion and want him dead but when that day of death finally comes, Ajaw feels no joy or happiness: just empty as he looks himself in the mirror, touching his face, or, well, Kinich's face.

oronich (idk the ship name, but also it exists lol) is two characters who are seen somewhat as outsiders by their own tribes: Kinich, while loved by most of the children, has a negative reputation for his job while Ororon is seen as a problem child and cast out of society. The two ostracised characters coming together in a doomed "we're kinda similar, aren't we?" Eddie Munson and Chrissy Cunningham style (from stranger things, sorry chat) and forming an unexpected yet wholesome and definitely welcome bond with each other (they'd tend to their garden together).

lynich (a rarepair!! a popular rarepair is a miracle honestly) is two traumatized boys, the flirt and the flustered. One who speaks the truth outright, and one who's every word is a lie. One who thinks everything comes at a price, and one who thinks everything is a trick. When Lyney tells Kinich about his connections with the Fatui, Kinich isn't mad, surprised, but not mad. How could he be? When he knows why Lyney joined? He accepts him with open arms, Weighing the costs, befriending a member of the Fatui would most likely leave him out of their shadier affairs since Lyney would never harm him, right? Right. Even when Lyney succeeds Arlecchino, Even when he becomes a harbinger, even after everything: they're together, despite all the complications there are.

basically yeah. every kinich ship is valid rn. those are the popular ones at least-(ororon and kinich is not popular but it has more content than any others I've seen and ppl actually talked abt it at one point so it's being included)

citlali and kinich is being excluded bcz that's p3d0philia: fanbase, that was your lesson for shipping characters before we even know anything about them/before they're even released smh (/lh lololol)

-

to my unfortunate realization: kinlani is poppy and branch smh (singing killed his father and made his mother run away, okay). They're basically every cliche quiet boy and cliche loud girl duo ever in history and they have that absolutely based opposite aesthetic duo vibe going on and it's wonderful i love them to bits and pieces chat.

-

ajawnich is princess and the frog in which ajaw turns into a pixel dragon instead of a frog, or beauty and the beast in which ajaw's seal is the rose curse thingie, or both. or fluttercord, cant forget fluttercord. or billford, cant forget billford either. take your pick with them honestly.

-

oronich is chrissy and eddie, could also see it being christine and raoul from phantom of the opera in which ajaw is the phantom, kinich is christine, and ororon is raoul.

(wait that's genius, im a fucking genius chat. someone make that an AU and credit me right NEEEEOW.)

-

and lynich is kinda just there i dont really know anything else to compare it to but it's giving that one scene in tom and jerry where it's like: "I love you. *smothers in kisses* Why, you set my soul on fire. *smothers in kisses* It is not just a little spark. It is a flame; a big roaring flame. I can feel it now *smothers in kisses*" (the person doing the kissing and talking is lyney in case you couldn't tell LMAOOAO)

-

anyways yeah

basically kinich harem i guess

i love being a multishipper because i can collect ships like a bitch and fawn over so many a time whenever i want >:3

also i love the whiplash between some of these: like kinlani and oronich were so wholesome and then you have AUGHHGHG angst with lynich and ajawnich smh.

sorry for rambling lmao but yeah

[mieldreams]

Payal

Summary: Anakin Skywalker is the roommate of your best friend's crush. That's all. Well, he's also a pain in the ass. But could one dance and a lucky pair of payal change things?

pairing: Anakin Skywalker x desi!reader (or just reader who's familiar/involved with that culture, no physical descriptions involved)

Warnings: None, except for 'i haven't proofread a single fucking thing' :) sorry for the mistakes in advance.

A/n: wrote something on a whim again (this is the first ever time I've written a proper fanfic tho *_*). Happy navratri y'all

Edit: Here's some payal playbacks aka any moodboard/refs if you want to know (songs, outfits, word meanings etc.)

It was Navratri, the festival in honour of the Goddess Durga. Nine nights of colours, prayers, and a whole lot of dancing. Oh, and the sweets! You couldn't wait to just rot your teeth on those festive delicacies.

It was the 5th night of festivities and today's celebrations were mainly the daily prayer and the dandiya dance. The special event for today however, was the ladies' dance competition. Your best friend had practically dragged your ass to get your name registered along with hers and your other friend Pari's, a half-assed promise of treating you to your favourite food at that fancy restaurant on the other side of the city to bribe you into the elaborate bollywood-esque romance scheme to seduce her crush. "There's no seducing!" she whisper-shouted, standing at the booth where you had to give your name, her cheeks immediately heating up at your insinuation. "I just want him to... see me, you know?" and you couldn't help but mentally scoff at that, why was she so blind? "Plus the price is money," she added, smirking as she picked up the pen to write down the names.

"Well shit, you should've said that first girl, I'm always looking to make me some moolah" your smirk matching hers even though your brain was already exhausted just *thinking* about the hours of practice she was gonna make you do to make sure everything was perfect to the T. That was over a week back, and after hours of choreographing and practising and picking out the costumes, the day was here, and despite all the whining you had done during practice, you couldn't deny that you actually hoped that her plan worked. Was it because you were tired of your oblivious best friend and her equally oblivious man playing dog and the bone with their feelings? Nooo, you could never be tired of your darling best friend's endless rants about how 'handsome he looked at the cafeteria today, in his lucky white cashmere sweater his ex-grandma gifted him in 2019' (how did she know that?) or how 'it's so sad his little sister's goldfish died because it jumped into the pot of boiling water for tea, and they've invited us to its funeral' (what?). And it most definitely wasn't because you were starting to get sick of having to watch them make those nauseating googly eyes at each other every time you hung out, for the past year. (though you wondered if it would only get worse when they finally got together.)

That's right, when, because if those two failed to get their ship sailing after tonight, you were 100% planning on just walking up to each of them, asking them what time they're free for dinner and setting them up on a date yourself. Your mental planning however, was disrupted by the creaking of the metal gate to the lawn space that had been rented for the festival. You turned around, a smile immediately pulling on your lips at the sight of the said man you were downright ready to shake like a maraca till your best friend got her deserved confession (though you expected the same on her end as well, of course). But the smile immediately fell at the sight of another man walking in right behind him. Anakin. What the hell was he doing here? And truly, the scowl that pulled on your face was hardly your fault when his eyes met yours and his lips immediately turned up into that infuriating smirk as the two of them headed towards you. But before you could march up to him and demand why he was here, your best friend ran up to you, gripping your arm to stop herself from crashing into you (you supposed the accidental intervention was for the better, since asking him such a thing might only give him more reason to mock you, it was obvious he was here with Krish, your best friend's crush who was also very unfortunately college roommates with Anakin, seriously how did someone as sweet as that guy get stuck with a moron like him?).

"C'mon it's time for the competition to start, ours is literally the second performance!" She started to drag you by the arm only to stop immediately at the sight of Krish causing you to crash into her. "Are we sure you can dance in the competition when you can hardly manage to walk without stumbling?" his voice immediately caused you to raise your head, glaring daggers as you squared up to throw your own taunt about how he just had to be oh so special and wear black even though tonight's theme was white. Unfortunately, you were beaten by Krish as he elbowed Anakin harshly in the rib, making you snicker at his grunt of pain, before walking even closer towards your best friend. "Aamani... hi," Krish breathed out, shifting his weight from one foot to another. And though you wanted to roll your eyes at how his eyes seemed to literally twinkle as he looked at your best friend, or how he always took time to call her by her full name despite all her friends calling her Manu, like he just had to say it every time to even begin to appreciate her entire being that he was so clearly besotted with, you couldn't help the small smirk that tugged on your lips as you gently pried your arm out of her death grip. (when the hell did she get so strong?) ‘Let's leave them to it, then.’ You thought to yourself.

And with that you walked away towards the small stage, knowing they'd most likely not see or hear anything besides the other person for at least the next half hour. "They're not gonna leave each other's side for the rest of the night, are they?" Ugh, Anakin. How had you forgotten? and now he was following you. Great. "Well, they wouldn't normally, but we do have to perform our dance and we're up second, which means the lovebirds will have to sacrifice at least half an hour for final practice and the performance." Hold on, why were you entertaining him? You stopped suddenly and turned to him with a scowl, "and I'll have you know I can dance very well and I-" "Is that why you're wearing red? for the dance? I thought the theme was white today," the audacity this man had to interrupt you. "Oh did you? Is that why you instead wore black?" you popped a hip with a closed fist resting on your hipbone, raising a jeering eyebrow at him, his eyes immediately drawn to the movement and indirectly your exposed midriff and then the shiny white stud in your belly button. He gulped before quickly averting his eyes to the stage behind you. "I think they announced that they're gonna be starting the competition soon," he replied instead.

Oh shit.

"Good luck" was all he said before walking away towards the audience gathering up for the performances. Oh shit, you really had to find your best friend fast.

Half an hour later with your costumes readjusted and makeup re-touched you were ready to get on stage. You weren't worried about messing up as much as you were about not keeping the same amount of energy for the next half an hour. That's right, your original plans of going mostly unnoticed as your best friend's supporting dancer for a mere 4-5 minutes went down the drain the minute she blabbered about you being a dancer as a kid to the aunty from down the block who was arranging her own group dance performance and immediately downright ordered you to join her group as well. At the time you didn't mind much but now, now you were wondering if you could pretend to sprain your ankle after your first performance to avoid the other one. I mean a whole half an hour of continuous dancing? and worse, the traitor that was your best friend wasn't in the second one and so you'd been entirely alone with a bunch of strangers during the first few practice sessions. (you knew it wasn't her fault the lady didn't ask her to join but you were sure she might have accommodated another person considering it was a big dance number) So here you were now, about 30 seconds away from getting on stage, sending a quick prayer that you don't throw up at any point considering they were pretty much back-to-back dances. As soon as you heard your group being announced the three of you walked onto the stage to get in your positions. You used the brief gap before the music started to scan the huge crowd, immediately spotting Krish almost at the very front of the audience, closest to where Manu was standing, but Anakin wasn't beside him like you expected. Your eyes continuing their scan to find him in the crowd before you even realised what you were doing. Wait, why the hell are you looking for him? You need to focus on the count before the music starts.

And as soon as the music started your body naturally moved to the rhythm and beat, a light laughter bubbling in your chest as you felt the stress melt away with each step. You had forgotten just how fun being on stage actually was, and with the atmosphere of such joy and celebration it was that much livelier. Before you know it, the performance was over, Krish walking quickly to the side of the stage as you got off, still high on the adrenaline and euphoria of performing after so long, and everything had gone smoothly too. It was hard to keep the smile off your face, even more so when you saw Manu and Krish talk animatedly at the bottom of the stairs to the stage, her head thrown back, laughing at something he said and then nodding enthusiastically with a toothy grin. Her expression changing to that of shock for a brief second as Krish immediately picks her up to twirl her around, her laughter dancing in the cold night air once again. It was only your obnoxiously loud teasing whistle that broke their bubble, though only temporarily. You had to go back on stage in five minutes and you wanted to make sure that Manu had company since you wouldn't be by her side for at least the next half an hour. Though realistically you knew it was her who wouldn't be by your side for the rest of the night. Ah, young love... or whatever.

"So now that the two of you have finally been cured of your obliviosis, have fun kiddos," you smirked, "and make sure to be safe." You winked at the pair, earning you a half-hearted angry call of your name from Manu as Krish let out an awkward nervous chuckle, burying his face into her shoulder. Aww, you had embarrassed them. "What? I'm just saying, have her back by 11." you gave a pointed look at him to which he immediately straightened up, enthusiastically nodding to your words while Manu continued to glare at you. "Back by 11? What am I in middle school?" "If you were in middle school I'd want you home by 9 miss, just what the hell sorta parents did you have?" You looked down at your watch realising your 5-minute break was nearing its end. "Okay lovebirds, I gotta go, but seriously have her home safe if you guys decide to leave the ground," you said pointing a finger at Krish, "and you," your finger pointing at Manu now, "don't forget to text me when you're leaving and when you get back home, alright?" She left his arms to quickly walk up the stairs to the top where you stood, pulling you into a bear hug as she rocked you side to side without even giving you a chance to hug her back as she held your arms at your sides, "I'll text you." She freed you from the hug to squeeze your palms in hers, "I had a lot of fun with the dance, thank you. And good luck with your next dance, sorry I won't be there to watch it, I mean we could stay till it gets over. we'll have the rest of the night anyway. Hey Krish, maybe we should stay for–"

But you immediately cut her off, "absolutely not, you've been looking forward to this day for almost a whole month now." You shook your head as you saw her open her mouth to argue, "plus I know you have that scarf you knitted for him in your bag." you smirked as her eyes went wide with surprise, not having expected you to know that. "Pulling that lovely 'oh it's a cold night, isn't it? Here, I just so happen to have this beautiful scarf that I definitely didn't knit just for you, here, let me wrap it around your beautiful neck. Oh no, you don't have to give it back to me at the end of the night, I have a matching one at home that I totally didn't plan as a couple’s thing, no seriously you can keep it' on him? There couldn't be a better opportunity." You laughed as her ears became bright red, "I hate you and your Nancy Drew observation skills." she mumbled out of puffed cheeks before immediately pulling you into another hug. "I love you. Good luck." "Thanks, I love you." In the end, you were about 2 minutes late to your dance and the aunty's scary face as she hurriedly signalled you to get into your position made you cringe on the inside, but oh well whatever, there were so many people you doubted that anyone had noticed there was supposed to be another dancer. You were here now anyway. You were halfway through the dance, your back turned to the audience when you felt a sharp gaze on you. Weird, there were about 100 people watching you, why did you feel this one particular stare stand out? It was only when you completed the circle to turn to face the audience again that you immediately connect gazes with the sharp eyes you had felt on you. Anakin. He was standing at the very back, close to the water coolers and refreshment tables, leaning on one of the empty tables with his arms crossed. His gaze never leaving yours. For a second your thoughts drifted and you were annoyed at how good he looked in the black shimmery kurta, though the top 3 buttons being left unbuttoned was so unnecessarily extra. The sleeves folded over his forearms that stretched the fabric, his collarbones standing out from the open collar. Such a slut. But damn did he look fine. Wait, what the hell? Focus, focus, focus. You couldn't lose count mid-step. And tripping right now would mess up everyone's steps since it was a circular movement. Why the hell would you trip over him anyway? Ugh. And so you focused back on your steps, continuing to feel that strange unwavering gaze on you for the rest of your dance.

Half an hour later, you were entirely done with the dance competition. Your feet hurt, your stomach was grumbling every few seconds and you were sure you'd be getting a headache from being so close to the speakers for so long. Thankfully, the emcee had announced a short break for refreshments and such, before the rest of the dances and then the final event to end the night — the dandiya dance. Were you positively exhausted and maybe even getting real tired of all the dancing and loud music? Most definitely. But Manu had texted you saying they'd be back for the final dandiya dance and you were really hoping to get to dance at least once with her, you know, outside the competition, just for funsies sort of stuff. So your irritation? Nothing some tasty snacks and maybe a cold drink couldn't solve. That was until an unfortunately familiar face came into your view as he plopped into the seat right next to yours at the circular table. Not the two other tables that were entirely empty (wasn't he supposed to be some emo loner who preferred to sulk in a corner?) or even the chair on the other side of the table (though you wondered if having him directly in your line of sight would make it worse). But no, he just had to sit right next to you with his stupid pretty eyes purposefully not meeting yours and his annoying plump lips innocently wrapping around the spoon with a piece of gulab jamun on it. He didn't even like sweets.

"Um— what the hell?" "What?" he looked at you with doe eyes rounded in innocence, and your eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Nothing, never mind," you were too tired and too hungry to start anything right now and what would you even ask, 'Why the hell are you sitting next to me?' 'didn't know there was some rule telling me where I can sit' is what he'd say, maybe roll his eyes at you, the usual stuff. So you continued eating your puff pastry in silence. Until you just had to ask, "I thought you didn't like sweets?" You tried to make your voice sound as non-judgemental as possible, you were only curious after all. "And who told you that?" he raised an eyebrow at you. Truthfully, nobody. But you had noticed the way he always avoided the dessert table at parties and functions, the way he only drank his coffee black; not even your best friend's infamous black forest cake that she had made for Krish's birthday a few months back had tempted him to even grab a Yolanda-approved bite. Yolanda would certainly be proud. Obviously, this had nothing to do with you observing him particularly, you just observed a lot of things around you, and he just very unfortunately happened to be around you a lot, being Krish's roommate and 'brotha from anotha motha' or whatever they said. And yet, here he was eating a freaking gulab jamun that was absolutely dripping with the sugary-est syrup. Did he hit his head on the way or something?

"Did you hit—" "I ran into Krish and Aamani, she told me to give this to you," he interrupted you yet again, turning to face you and pulling out a long silver chain-like thing, which upon a closer look you realised with an elated gasp, was the missing half of your lucky pair of payal, the one you'd been looking for everywhere earlier that evening. "I thought these came in pairs," it was a question from the tone with which he said it, but his eyes remained fixated on the jewellery in his hands, thumb running over the delicate silver with a gentleness you didn't know he possessed. You lifted the hem of your skirt a little, head tilting down to point at your left ankle, "they do. I just couldn't find the other one." You shook your head, going back to taking a sip of your drink, "I like the sound they make when you dance, it's fun, so I thought ek hai toh ek hi sahi," catching his questioning gaze you translated, "if there's only one then so be it, I hardly ever get to wear these anyway." You shrugged, "Manu must've found it later and forgotten to give it to me earlier. I think their dating honeymoon phase is gonna be worse than their not-dating honeymoon phase" You rolled your eyes affectionately, expecting him to make a teasing remark too or at least give you that amused smirk. Instead you saw him give an almost imperceptible yet decisive nod, quickly sliding off his chair to kneel in front of you. "What are you-" He gently lifted your right foot onto his folded knee, his nimble fingers making quick work of the clasp on your anklet. Your stomach fluttered as you felt the warmth of his hands on your cold bare ankle, and you were sure if you still had that sip of cold drink in your mouth, your lungs would be burning from snorting it down the wrong pipe, and definitely not because he might've stolen your breath. His fingers skimmed in a barely there touch down your foot. Till now, his gaze had been entirely focused on clasping the jewellery but now that he was done he lifted his head, looking directly into your eyes from his still kneeling position, your faces a few inches apart. This time you could feel your heart burn. Dang, maybe you should cut down on the greasy food and drinks. His gaze briefly shifted to your lips, but then he quickly got up, dusting off his pants, picking up his empty gulab jamun cup, throwing a quick, "I'mgonnagothrowthis" over his shoulder and then he was gone. He quickly disappeared into the crowds while you still sat there, entirely motionless. Your mind blank except for the phantom feeling from his feather touch on your skin.

It was finally time for the last round of dancing. You had run into Manu and Krish while carrying your trash to the bin, the emptiness of your thoughts completely overthrown by the excited shout of your name. You were surprised they had spotted you first, considering all the doped-up lovey smiles and heart-eyes you noticed when they walked to you. The brief hand squeeze and wide-eyed glance from her let you know you were in for an entire night of dramatic recalling of every detail of their evening and you could only shake your head with a fond smirk. As you all walked back towards the dance area, Manu spoke up, "Oh, did you get the payal I'd given Anakin to give to you?" she looked down at your feet though they were covered with your skirt. You supposed she heard them jingle, the sound louder and more noticeable now that you were wearing both of them. But her question brought back that unwanted memory from earlier in the evening instead, and you fought real hard to keep your face from heating up, inhaling a deep breath as inconspicuously as possible, "uh– yeah, he um.. he did." you nodded your head a little too aggressively, "I mean I got it, yeah." Lightly lifting your skirt to show your pair of anklets safely secured, by the most gentle hands you'd ever felt. This time you felt your ears undeniably heat up. 'What the hell? Why were you so fixated on that one thing? It was nothing. It's not like he was sliding a wedding ring on you or something.' Though for some reason, that thought only made your breath stutter as you felt the lava-like blood now rushing to your cheeks. Ugh, get a grip, get. a. grip. And since you were too busy trying to appear totally normal and shoot the butterflies in your stomach dead, you missed the mischievous look that Manu shot Krish as she gave a quick squeeze to his hand in hers. "Should we really have been spying on them like that? And worse, taking photos of them without them knowing?" and though his question was whispered through a sigh he squeezed her hand right back.

"Oh, hush. 10 years from now when they have cute little munchkins running around, I'll have proof to show that I was the one that set their ship sailing." she answered with a smirk. "You've thought about their kids? 10 years from now??" he raised his brows with an incredulous laugh. "Of course. I think about everything." Even the things that you were too practical to consider. Your words, not hers. 'Blind' is what she would call it. You may have the observation skills rivalling that of the most infamous detectives, but she had The Vision. And she knew in her guts that you two were just meant to end up together. "Oh yeah? Then what have you thought about our 10 years? We got 'cute little munchkins' in our cards too?" he tossed an arm around her shoulders, snuggling her close to him to teasingly tickle at her exposed waist. "Mmm, for now our cards hold a very very important mission." She answered and he sighed again, knowing exactly where this was heading. "Let me guess, mission 'get your best friend and my best friend together for the last dance to recreate another Bollywood-style romantic scene?" he raised a brow, coming to a stop as they reached the edge of the canopy of lights and fabrics. "It's only been a few hours and you've already gained the boyfriend-telepathy skills. Impressive." She wiggled her brows at him while turning around in his arms, "I need you to find Anakin and somehow get him to agree to dance." Sensing his hesitation she quickly continued, "I know it won't be easy, but you'll manage. Once we get them both here we need to make sure they're on opposite sides of the circle so that when the final song comes they'll be paired together" she finished. "You really have thought this through, huh? I can't guarantee that he'll agree to dance, I mean it's Anakin we're talking about," noticing her pleading pout he rolled his eyes in fond exasperation, "but I'll try."

With that, he left and she walked to where you were standing, finishing up talking to some old lady, no doubt held hostage to some good ol’ ‘I knew you since you were thisss little’ talk for the past few minutes that the two had spent whispering their plan, but she quickly patted your cheek and left. "So, tonight's the exclusive dandiya night," she wiggled her brows like it was supposed to mean something, it was. You laughed, not understanding her implication. "What about it?" She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, "it's dandiya dumbass. As in, you know, pairs dancing," she continued when she realised your light bulb was still dim. "Oh," you hadn't thought about that, too caught up in the dance competition to care about the other stuff. "Yeah, ‘oh.’ So, who you gonna choose?" "Um...you?" though it came out unsure. "I appreciate the sentiment babe, I really do. I would choose you too–" You raised a brow at that, "but?" "But'" she made a show of dragging out the word then throwing her arms out to her sides, "look at the crowd around you, there's so many kids our age, there's quite a few guys our age too." And finally you caught onto her line of thoughts, narrowing your eyes you shook your head. "Absolutely not. We are not doing this tonight, well I mean you're settled, so I'm not doing this tonight." But the fates seemed to be on her side that night, as she noticed Krish and Anakin talking a few paces away towards the outskirts of the canopy while you both stood at the centre, you hadn't noticed them yet but she could see Anakin shaking his head in a firm no as well. Gosh why were the both of you so difficult? But she also noticed another opportunity walk towards you, and a hopeful scenario played out in her head, courtesy of The Vision. And so she immediately got to work.

"Hey AJ!" she called out to the guy just about to walk by you a few steps away, "didn't you mention that you don't have a partner for tonight's dandiya?" Your eyes widened and you subtly tried to pinch her to stop her from saying the next words but it was too late, "My best friend here also doesn't have a partner, would you mind pairing up with her if you haven't already found someone else?" In speaking to the guy, both of you had turned to fully face him, so she couldn't see Anakin’s reaction anymore. She hoped he had heard what she had just asked this guy. He had. While the two had been devising their plan off to the side, you had been standing at the centre of the canopy taking time to clear your mind and cool yourself. Your gaze was immediately drawn to the gorgeous lights and colourful fabrics that hung above you, mesmerised by how pretty they looked standing out against the dark nighht sky beyond. And though you may never know, Anakin had spotted you right then, standing there in your pretty red ghagra, face tilted to look above you, and it had looked like one of the most gorgeous things he had ever seen, you had looked so pretty with all the lights gleaming in your eyes. And though he was too far to see it, he knew your gaze held that golden twinkle that shone every time you were genuinely happy, though he had hardly been on the receiving end of it. So he had always observed from afar, just as he was doing tonight. His thoughts had been interrupted by the movement of someone approaching him in his periphery. It turned out to be Krish, who clapped him on the back as a greeting and then asked him if he had eaten anything to which Anakin's mind flashed to the almost nauseating sweetness of the tooth-rotting dessert he'd had, immediately followed by the image of the delicate jewellery around your ankle and he quickly shut the door on that thought, instead answering with a single nod.

"Good, good 'cause you're gonna need some energy for a while." Anakin only raised an inquisitive eyebrow in response, while Krish thought of the best, most convincing way to... well, to convince him. "Y/N needs a partner..." "Okay…?" "For the dance, I mean. She needs a partner for the dandiya, she doesn't have one..." he trailed off again, should he just be straightforward with it? "It's you." "What?" Anakin's head snapped to look at him like he was insane. "It's you. You're going to dance with her." "What the fuck? No, I'm not?" it came out as a question because he was baffled as to how his own best friend could say something as dumb as that. Dancing? him? That's fucking funny. "Yes, you are. She needs a partner. You need a partner. The solution is obvious." "Like hell it is. I don't need a partner, 'cause I'm not fucking dancing." He shook his head decisively. "You want to though. You know you want to dance with her." Krish said with a pointed look. "And just what the hell made you think that?" "I'm your best friend, Ani. Do you think I'm blind or—" "Hey AJ!" Aamani's voice had carried over to the two of them, halting their conversation as their attention was now on the two of you, though your backs were turned to them. Aamani's voice was somehow loud enough that they got the gist of it, she had asked this AJ to be your partner, and from the way he walked over to the two of you, your best friend introducing you to each other, him shaking your hand and the dazzling smile you gave him in return, Anakin felt an irrational sorts of a burning pit in his stomach. "Well, looks like the deal's done. She's got her fucking partner." He pushed off the pillar he’d been leaning on, walking away. "Wait! Dude! Where you go—" "Out." and with that he quickly walked towards the back exit of the ground, walking through the gates and out into the cold night. But he had been wrong. AJ hadn't yet agreed to dance with you, or rather Aamani hadn't given him the chance to, stalling him by telling you that he was studying the same thing as you, though he went to a different university. She had been buying time, hoping that any second now, Anakin and his impulsiveness would come barging and say that you've already got a partner. But time was running short as the conversation between the two of you came back to the topic of tonight's dance. "So, you don't have a partner for the dandiya either?" she heard him ask. Where the hell was Anakin? But her movie-like vision for his entrance onto the scene immediately shattered when she turned to see what was holding him, only to see Anakin nowhere in sight and her boyfriend standing alone with a small frown on his face. Catching his eyes she sent him a questioning look, to which he only shook his head dejectedly. And she knew her plan had failed. For her, at least. Because when she turned back around, she saw you agreeing with AJ to meet up under the canopy before the start of the dance before he excused himself, mentioning something about helping move the chairs or whatever. You too said something about meeting up with one of your older hometown friends you'd run into right before the dance competition. You'd promised to come find her when you were free to catch up on things. And so you left as well.

But at that point, Manu could only think about how wrong this was. She knew it was her who had asked AJ to dance with her best friend, so she couldn't blame him. But Anakin – Anakin she could blame. And she could also just about drag his ass back here to ask him what the hell was he doing? With the way the whole payal scene had gone, and knowing Anakin's possessive nature, she was almost 100% sure he'd metaphorically sweep you off your feet (before literally sweeping you off your feet during the dance). So why the hell was her best friend going to be dancing with a guy she was (frustratingly) getting along with instead?

Krish had walked his way back to stand behind her, but not even his warmth and the comforting palm he ran up and down her bare arm could stop the disappointed frown pulling on her lips. She turned to her boyfriend with a concerned expression, "Did I just accidentally push my best friend towards the wrong guy, with the right guy storming off to who knows where?"

Part 2: Jhumka

a/n: so.... there's 4 more nights left... do you think they'll ever get their dance? 👀

A/n: Thank you all so much if you spent your time on this trash wreckage fuelled by finals stress and unfulfilled dreams </3

Would love to hear feedback on this one! Don't hesitate to send me any ques or just anything that comes to mind relating to our dearest love-haters and the overzealous matchmakers ;)

[trainer-from-unova]

day on the green

𖤐 bandom blog: @princess-lvcifer 𖤐 english ao3 𖤐 spanish ao3 𖤐 edits 𖤐 kofi 𖤐 𝄞 𖤐

ship: eddie munson x f!reader

summary: you travel with your best friend through the country to go to a metal festival in San Francisco with him

a/n: lots of metallica references as usual / i wrote this in summer 2022 / english isn't my first language, sorry if something's weird expressed

cw: fluff, best friends to lovers, sexual and romantic tension, sexual humor, affectionate insults

word count: 12'1k

"______, Eddie's calling," said her mother, entering her room without knocking or asking permission. She was listening to Metallica at full volume and knew she probably wasn't going to hear her.

"I'm coming," she said dropping the magazine she was reading, leaving it at the foot of his bed and getting up from it to go downstairs to where the house phone was. "Hey, what's up?" She wanted to hold back the urge to smile like the lovesick fool she was, since her mother was circling the house like a shark, and she didn't want her to know she liked him, not because she was ashamed of him or because her mother thought he was a bad influence — on the contrary, she and Eddie got along well, she didn't see him as a bad guy, but who would want her mother to know which boy she liked? And on top of that he was a close friend who often went to her house.

"Are you at home?" he asked nervously.

"Can't you see I am, asshole?" She asked now. "What's wrong?"

"Okay, don't move from there, I'm on my way," he said, and hung up.

"You fucking asshole," she whispered to herself, she hated being left wondering, she was worried, but knowing Eddie it wouldn't be serious. The most serious thing that could happen was that he'd get caught smoking or selling weed.

She didn't hear Eddie park his van in front of her house because her music was on full blast, but if it wasn't for that, she would have heard him. She had good hearing and recognised the noise made by the engines of his loved ones' cars. She could also recognise the sound of keys or footsteps as they walked.

What she did hear was the doorbell of the house in the distance. She got out of bed and turned the music down, it was obvious that Eddie was there to tell her something, although she had no idea what, but she'd better be able to hear it loud and clear, she'd listen to her favourite songs loud and clear at any other time.

The door to her room was open, so he didn't ask permission to enter. He was practically at his houss, but he did leave it ajar when he entered.

"What is it?" She asked indignantly as she sat cross-legged on her bed. "You've got me fucking intrigued!"

"Boom," he said, raising his right hand, in which he held a pamphlet. She could clearly see names of rock and metal bands she knew: Scorpions, Ratt, Y&T, Metallica, Rising Force, Victory.... Though his eyes went to her favourite band, Metallica, hardly paying attention to the others, as she didn't care that much about them.

Eddie took off his shoes and sat down on her bed, facing her, also with his legs crossed.

"It's this year's Day on the Green," he said, handing her the sheet, "Saturday 31 August. The next day it's Wham! and some other pop bands I obviously don't want to see. I've always wanted to go. We have to go, I won't take no for an answer."

"18'50$... It's expensive, and in Oakland! How are we going to get there, if we go at all?"

"But it's worth the price! And we can go by bus, or by plane, or in my caravan... Yeah, I think my caravan would be better. Think about it, you and me, travelling around the country in a caravan, listening to our favourite songs and shouting them out, and then listening to them played live by their creators and together with more fans..." He couldn't fit the smile on his face and his eyes were shining, it was adorable when he looked so excited, you could tell he liked what he was talking about. "It's a great plan, you can't say no," he said pointing his right hand with his index finger.

It was true, it was a great plan and she couldn't say no to him. And she really wanted to live such a unique experience with him, and alone, but the money issue put her off, and she didn't know what her mother would say about it.

"And on top of that, it's the summer holidays, you can't give me the excuse of school."

"Yes, but the money and my mother..."

"Don't worry about the money, you know..." He whispered.

Yes, it was true, he was loaded from selling weed, but it was bad for her to accept that he paid her entrance fee and everything, and that he drove and paid for the petrol.

"Even though you're failing all your science subjects, you're a good girl, I'm sure she'll let you have a whim like that. And I'm sure she doesn't think too badly of me, does she?"

"I hope so... But before we say anything, we should organise it a bit, so that she sees that we're not going on a wild adventure, that we're organised, and get her in a good mood."

"I see the logic of it, but it has to be as soon as possible, tickets may fly."

"Then let's get down to work. We must go to the library to consult maps and their routes."

That's what they did. They worked out how long the trip would take to get there and back, when they would have to leave Hawkins and when they would be back, motels to spend the night in, gas stations, how much money each of them would have to take with them to pay for expenses, how much the whole trip would cost, and a little emotional and psychological blackmail to use on _______'s mother if needed.

The next day, she let her mother know that Eddie would be going to dinner in the evening and that they wanted to tell her something important. The second she thought they wanted to tell her that they had been together for a long time or even worse, like a pregnancy, but she cleared her worries by telling her it was nothing of the sort.

"I want you here at six o'clock sharp. Get ready," she told him as she got out of Eddie's caravan in front of her house. Her house was between the school and his house, so he was her taxi driver.

"I know, I know."

"Isn't he coming in yet?" asked her mother when she saw her walk in the front door alone.

"No, he's going home to get ready," she said as she made her way to the stairs and took her backpack off her shoulders, "or did you want him to get ready here?"

"What should I make him for dinner?"

"Whatever you want, he'll eat it all pleased," she said on the first floor.

Hours passed and the doorbell rang. It was time. Luckily, he had been on time. For what he wanted to do, he was, but not for his early morning classes at school.

Eddie wasn't that uncomfortable, because he already knew the mother of his best and only female friend, but she had told him that her mother saw him as a possible boyfriend, so he knew what was going through her mind when she saw him with her daughter (the same thing happened with some people at school), and that made him ashamed, because on top of that, at least on his part, he did feel something for _______, something more than friendship.

And well, besides, it was the first time he had dinner and spent so much time with her mother, and of course, there was also the main plan, the mission they had to achieve: to convince her to let her go with him on a trip around the country and go to that metal festival. Technically she didn't need her permission, since she was already 18, but being a woman and still living under her roof, for things like that it was better to have her approval.

"Well, what is it that you wanted to tell me? Intrigue kills me," said her mother, as the three of them sat down at the table.

"Like mother, like daughter," he thought.

"Well, mom, as you know, I love metal, and so does he. It's a music that has helped me a lot in many ways for a long time, and so has Eddie, even though we've known each other for half a year. There's going to be a festival in Oakland on Saturday the 31st of August and we'd really like to go. We've thought about going in his caravan, both of us driving every couple of hours. Also, because of the proximity, we'd like to visit San Francisco and Los Angeles for at least a day, and we'd come back through the south, through the Bible Belt. He has insisted on paying for everything but I have told him no, I could pull from my savings or start working a bit. We've also looked at routes and motels to sleep in, and if anything should happen to the car Eddie is a good mechanic and has all the necessary equipment. I would call you every time we stopped at a place with a phone box. And I think I deserve to go to the festival, plus it's something that would make me very happy and travelling around the country in a car would be an experience..."

"And of course I would look after her in every way, you don't have to worry about anything," he said as seriously as she did.

"Of course, of course," she pointed her index finger at him, giving him a quick glance and a quick nod.

She looked at each of them and a smirk appeared on her face. They were both already fearing the worst.

"All this to ask me to take you on a trip and go to a concert?" she asked incredulously while holding back her laughter.

"...Yes?"

"For God's sake, you don't need to worry so much, you're both old enough to ask my permission. Besides, I can't wait for you to see the world and get wise," she said looking only at her daughter.

"So, ma'am, does that mean yes?" asked Eddie.

"Of course it does," she replied, and they both looked at each other smiling from ear to ear and high-fived.

She looked at them tenderly. It was obvious to her that they were both in love with each other.

Time passed ridiculously slowly.

During the months of waiting before the festival began, Eddie slightly increased the prices of the weed he sold, and started giving private guitar lessons to kids in town to earn a little extra and to disguise where he was getting the money to afford the trip. Meanwhile, she started giving drawing, English and Spanish classes to other kids.

On the first day of May Live Aid was announced, but despite being closer than Oakland, as it would be held in Philadelphia and would be no more than a day's drive (not counting the return trip), it was too expensive. 35$ each ticket. The price was understandable, as the event was going to be an unprecedented spectacle, where many people would be working for a good cause, but they already had enough expenses with what the Day on the Green tickets cost and the trip they would be making. Besides, even if they didn't go to the festival, raising so much money in such a short time was quite difficult, as Live Aid would be on 13th July, and tickets flew quickly, and rightly so, seeing the list of artists who were going to attend to help the cause.

Anyway, they watched Live Aid together on TV and that made them want to go to Day on the Green even more.

And finally the day came for them to go on the trip. She'd be lying if she said she wasn't climbing the walls like Spiderman herself because she was so nervous. She had never left Indiana, she had never made such a long trip, both in terms of distance and days, and she had never been separated from her mother for such a long time. But at least she was going to experience all that with her best friend and the boy she was in love with.

She had been ready since the day before and had gone through her luggage four times, and was about to do it for the fifth time, when a clack sounded outside her house. It was him, no doubt about it. She almost had a heart attack. It was time to go.

She left the house with the luggage and she and her mother pretended to put the things in the caravan, but he got off them and insisted on doing it himself.

As it was almost the end of August, and it was so hot, he was wearing no shirt and shorts. Both young friends were embarrassed for her mother to see him like that, but it was an understandable outfit because of the heat.

She hugged her mother goodbye and told her that she loved her very much. As the mother she was, she could feel her nervousness.

"Don't worry about anything, silly, you'll have a great time, you'll see," her mother whispered in her ear as they hugged.

"I know, but..."

"Before you go, I have to take a picture of you!" said her mother as they parted, "Come on, get together."

Eddie put his arm around ______'s shoulders and pulled her close to him, resting his head on hers, and she posed, making a peace sign with one of her hands. He made a devil sign with his free hand.

Her mother took the camera off her neck and handed it to her, they got into the car, both waved goodbye to her mother and Eddie drove off.

"I CAN'T WAIT!" he shouted.

"Same," she said, laughing a little nervously.

"Well, it doesn't look like it from you," he said, looking at her strangely, "what's wrong?"

"It's nerves, don't worry."

"Nerves about what?"

"To make such a trip, to be so far away from my home and my mother for so long, my comfort zone."

"I mean, it would fuck me up at this point, but if you don't want to go, there's still time for me to turn back..."

"What the fuck are you talking about?! No way, of course I want to go on the trip and to the festival, and I've got you on top of that. I wouldn't do this madness with just anyone."

"Do you consider going on a trip and to a festival a crazy thing?" he asked with a mocking smile.

"No, but yes, if it's that far away..."

"As long as you don't tell me to turn around when we're in Nebraska or something like that, it's all right," he said jokingly.

"You know I won't."

On the way they listened and sang along to the cassettes he had, and she brought her own too, so they wouldn't always be alone listening to his.

It was around lunchtime and Eddie had already been driving for a couple of hours, so they stopped to rest and eat.

"Wait, I have to put sunscreen on again," she said before getting back in the car. She had just finished talking to her mother on the phone. She had little to say to her, evidently.

"Really? That's a scam, it's not necessary."

"You're telling me you've been driving around shirtless in the sun for hours without sunscreen?"

"Of course I am."

"You're going to burn, you idiot!"

"No way, you exaggerator."

"Put it," she said, offering the bottle of sunscreen.

"No," she said with disgust.

She poured cream into her free hand, moved closer to him and directed her cream-filled hand to his collarbone, rubbing her hand over it, and trying not to look at his tattooed chest or his tablet, making a superhuman effort not to let her eyes wander to those areas of his body. That took him by surprise, but he kept still and quiet, accepting the gesture.

"Dampen down a little," she asked as she rubbed cream back into her hand, looking up, meeting his eyes. "Do you see how necessary this is?" She asked as she creamed his left cheek, inches from each other. "You're already red."

He was sure he wasn't red from the sun, but he shut up.

"Turn around," she asked again, and he again obeyed.

For a second she stared at his back. She thought is was beautiful and couldn't believe she was about to run hee hands over it. She pushed his hair forward with her little finger so as not to get even a little cream in it.

"Don't you want to put your hair in a high ponytail or a bun?" She asked as she ran her hand down his back. "You'd be cooler."

"I look ridiculous."

"I'm sure you wouldn't. Besides, what difference does it make if I see you like that?"

"A lot," he thought, "you're the only person whose opinion really matters to me."

When he noticed she was done, he turned and she offered him the bottle of sunscreen again. His arms, legs and torso remained. It was understandable, she wasn't going to rub it all over him, he was too old to follow and it would be very uncomfortable in many ways, especially touching his torso, although they both wanted to.

When he finished applying the cream, he gave her back the pot and hugged her tightly.

"You idiot, you're going to stain me and you're sweaty! Ugh!" and he laughed wickedly.

"Do you want me to help you lie on your back?" he asked as he let her out of his grip.

She was wearing shorts and a crop top.

"Okay," she said as she turned around. She didn't need to, she could do it on her own, but she wasn't going to refuse help, especially if it was about him touching her.

Eddie put cream on his right hand and directed his hand to her back. He was nervous, more so than he had been before, when she was creaming him. He didn't know how to touch her, but he knew he had to act normal, so he rubbed his hand across the uncovered part of her back with the mission to get the sticky cream off his hand as quickly as possible. He tried not to look too closely at her back, and his fingertips ended up inside her crop top, unintentionally brushing her bra for a second. Then he slid his hand down her right side to remove what little cream he had left, stopping when he brushed against her trousers. She loved the feel of his hand right then, in that place, like that, even though it probably wasn't a big deal and she was making a movie in her head. Then he pushed her hair forward and decided to rub cream on her neck, massaging it lightly.

"Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome."

He got into the car, in the passenger seat, where she was before, and she quickly rubbed cream on her belly and legs, then sat in the driver's seat, where Eddie was before.

"Turn around and face the window," she said.

"For what?"

"You listen to me, okay?"

"Well... Okay."

She took off the extra hair tie she wore on her wrist as a spare in case she lost the one she was wearing and grabbed Eddie's hair, doing him a bun.

"Tell me, are you cooler right now?"

"Yes, but I'm sure I look ridiculous."

"You look gorgeous, as always," she said matter-of-factly, as she settled everything in the car so she could start driving.

After a few more hours they stopped again to stretch their legs and change drivers, had dinner at a fast food place and finally ended up at a motel, almost on the outskirts of the state.

When they entered the room they saw that there was only one bed.

"I'll go and ask for a room with two beds," he said, turning away.

"Eddie, it's night, and you're exhausted," she stopped him, taking him by the arm. "Come in, come on," she said, nodding her head.

"You don't care?" he asked, referring to sharing a double bed.

"I don't give a shit," she was even excited, but of course she wasn't going to say that, and she couldn't know that he did too, but he didn't want to make her uncomfortable in any way, so that's why he offered asking for a room with two beds.

They arranged their things and the first thing they wanted to do was to take a shower, they were exhausted, sweaty and sticky from the sun cream.

"I'll shower first," they both said at the same time, standing in the middle of the small room after sorting their luggage and taking things out. "...You first," they both said again at the same time, and laughed at the synchronicity and telepathy they sometimes had.

"Rock, paper, scissors?" she asked.

"Come on," he said, leaning closer to her.

They both kept their dominant hands behind their backs and recited the chant of the game at the same time.

"...and... three!" They both pulled their hands behind their backs at the same time, making their hands and fingers make the shape of the object they had chosen in their minds. She drew paper and he drew scissors, but as soon as he saw that she was losing the game, he turned his hand from scissors to stone, and then put his arm around her shoulders, making her walk towards the bathroom.

"You win, you first," he said.

"Dude!" she said, annoyed but laughing.

"Shhh."

"Well okay, but at least let me get some panties and my pajamas, or do you want me to come out of the bathroom naked?"

"All right, all right," he said letting go of her and raising his arms in the air as if he was being mugged.

She grabbed her clothes and stepped into the shower. Meanwhile, he pulled on his pajamas (aka boxer shorts), turned on the TV that was there, looked for MTV and sat on the edge of the bed to watch it. He wanted to lie down on the bed, but he didn't want to stink up the bed with the stench of his sweat or stain it.

When she came out of the bathroom her hair was wet, she was wearing only panties and a baggy T-shirt, and clearly no bra.

"Your turn," she said as she made her way to the bed to lie down on the left side of it.

He got up from the edge of the bed and went into the bathroom, which was full of steam.

"Did you take a hot shower, you crazy woman?" he asked before closing the door to get undressed and get into the shower.

"Yes," she replied as if it was the most normal thing in the world for the month they were in.

"It's the middle of August."

"Do you think I don't know that?" she asked, holding back her laughter, and then he, still surprised, closed the door.

She flicked through the television herself, but ended up back on MTV, then picked up the phone on the bedside table and called her mother again to let her know where they were and that they were okay.

He came out of the bathroom shortly after, wearing only short but baggy black boxer shorts and still with drops of cold water sliding off him, mostly running down his tattooed chest and back from his wet hair.

"Anything interesting on TV?" he asked as he lay down next to her on the bed.

"No, but we should turn it off now anyway," she said, referring to the fact that they had to get up early the next morning to continue driving.

"Yeah," he said, getting out of bed.

He went to turn off the television and the light, then turned on the ceiling fan and opened the window, then took off all his jewellery and watch, and finally lay back down on the bed with her, on her side, resting her head on his right arm. She moved into the same position facing him, and he could see her silhouette perfectly thanks to the little light coming in from outside the motel. Her T-shirt rode up slightly, revealing her belly.

She moved closer and snuggled up to him, which he gladly accepted and wrapped his free, left arm around her.

"I still can't process all of this, if you told me about this when we became friends..." she said as she looked at her friend's tattooed chest.

"Yeah, I wouldn't believe it either," he said, stroking her arm with his thumb.

It was the 27th of July last year, in the morning. She drove to her nearest record shop before they opened first thing in the morning. There was a queue of metalheads waiting in line outside the door, and she assumed they were there for exactly the same thing she was: to buy Metallica's new album, Ride the Lighting. Last year, having just released their first album, Kill 'em all, she had fallen completely in love with them and their style of music, and couldn't miss out on having the new album the instant it was released. She walked past all the metalheads standing there, until someone called out to her, catching her attention.

"_______!"

There he was, standing like the others, impatiently waiting for the shop to open to get his record.

They both knew each other from high school, despite not being in the same year or classes, and not being from popular groups, they understood and respected each other.

"Are you coming to get the new Metallica album?" he asked.

"Yes," and a big smile broke out on Eddie's lips as he gestured for her to come with him, standing next to him in the queue. "Thank you," she said for being a sneak. The person behind him pouted but fortunately didn't protest.

"I didn't know you liked Metallica, let alone knew them," he said, smiling. It was always a pleasure to meet people with the same musical tastes, especially when your tastes were considered strange and living in a small town.

"I can't say the same," she said smiling sideways, "it's pretty obvious looking at you that you do know them and many more rock and metal bands."

During the little while they waited in line they talked about how they met Metallica, their favourite songs from Kill 'em all, their favourite band members and asked each other if they liked other bands.

They went inside and went straight to get their copies of Ride the Lighting to take home.

"I'd love to listen to it together," he said as they left the shop after paying for the records, "and know each other's opinion of the songs instantly."

"Yeah," she said as they walked to the car park.

"I'd invite you to my place, but since my uncle works nights he sleeps in the mornings, and I'm going to have to listen to it," he said, referring to the record, "with my headphones on..."

"It's all right," she said. She could invite him to her house, since her mother was working and she had the whole house to herself, but she had just met him formally, she wasn't going to just invite him to her house. "I have an idea."

"What's that?"

"As soon as we get home we'll listen to it and when we're done we'll call each other to talk about it, what do you think?"

"That's fine with me."

They exchanged phone numbers and got into their cars and headed home to listen to the album for the first time.

Two minutes after she finished listening to the album, the phone rang. She knew it was him.

"What do you think?" he asked expectantly.

"I'm in shock, man."

"In a good way or a bad way?"

"What do you think? Let's see."

"Good? Because come on, I loved it."

"Me too! Although I didn't like all the songs," she said with a wince as she ran her finger along the phone's curly cord.

"No? Really?!"

"Yes."

"Which ones didn't you like?"

"Fade to Black and The call of Ktulu or whatever the fuck it's called," she could hear a small chuckle on the other line.

"I don't think they're bad."

"No no, I'm not saying that, it's just that they're not my style, I need a lot more rhythm, apart from the fact that they're too long."

"Yeah, it's understandable. I do like them but they're not my favourites either."

"And which ones are?"

"I couldn't tell you, they're all very good..." he was thoughtful for a few seconds. "Maybe... My favourite is Creeping Death. The riff, the lyrics, James's voice... It's tremendous."

"I loved that one too! And For Whom the Bell Tolls. Ride the lighting too but not as much as those two. I need to listen to them on loop for hours, I swear, I loved them."

Who knew in that moment that that album would quickly become a gold album and that just over a year later they would hear them live with him on the other side of the country?

The next few days of the trip were pretty much the same as that day: driving for hours, changing drivers, putting on sun cream, stopping to eat and go to the toilet, calling her mother and his uncle, filling up with petrol, listening to their cassettes at full volume and singing loudly in the caravan, smoking tobacco, laughing, talking about silly things, taking pictures with the camera of _______, and taking showers and sleeping in motels.

It was Thursday night, and they were already in downtown Nevada, resting in the motel where they stayed that night. They were also in a room with only one bed, a double bed, but they didn't mind.

"I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight, I can't believe we'll be in Oakland by tomorrow. I could just keep driving right now," he said as they huddled together, and knowing him as well as she did, she knew it was true.

"Yeah, me too," she said, smiling as much as he was.

"I'm so glad you're my friend, I wouldn't be having this magical experience without you... I love you so much," he said smiling sweetly.

He really wanted to say so much more, he wanted to tell her how much he loved her, that she made him crazier than he already was, that he wanted to hold her tight and never let go, to kiss her and take care of her, but... He had to keep quiet. They had a precious friendship and if he confessed and she didn't reciprocate, which he assumed was most likely, it would probably make things very awkward between them and if he confessed during the trip, they wouldn't be able to run away from each other, having to share a car and rooms for days. It would be the worst-case scenario.

She assumed that he meant that he loved her very much as a person and as a friend, and nothing more. And he did mean that he loved her in those ways, but he also meant that he secretly loved her as a partner.

"I love you too," she said, smiling in the same way.

They stood for a few seconds looking into each other's eyes in silence, and for microseconds at times their eyes would wander to each other's lips.

Maybe it was the emotions running high, maybe it was the tiredness, maybe it was the night, maybe it was the hormones, maybe it was the way they were cuddled up in that marriage bed, maybe it was that she was sick of hiding her feelings, maybe it was that she was too brave when she liked someone, maybe it was Eddie's words and that she wanted to have even a little faith that she could have more than friendship with him, or maybe it was all of the above at once, but she decided to bring her face close to his, ridiculously slowly for fear of screwing up.

He noticed and almost had a heart attack. He didn't know what was going through his best friend's mind, he didn't know how she felt about him, but according to him, it looked like she was getting close to his face to kiss him, which if it was true, he had to take advantage of the opportunity, so he decided to do the same as her: get close to her face in a ridiculously slow way.

But then they were stopped by noises from the people in the next room, and they weren't just any noises; they were noises of bed springs and moaning, especially from a woman.

They both stopped dead in their tracks, frozen in their tracks, staring at each other with wide eyes and trying not to piss themselves laughing.

"This is ridiculous, I swear," she whispered as she moved slightly away from him and lay on her back, "I can't believe it," she said, pillowing her ears, to no listen the moans.

"Why are you whispering? You aren't the one who should be quiet. Do you want me to knock on the wall?" he asked as he raised his left arm and put his hand on the wall.

"No, let them have a good time," she said, her pillow no longer acting as a hoof against the noise. "Besides, if you hit the wall, you'll break her," she said as he lay on his back like her.

"We're not going to sleep tonight, but not for what we thought."

"It probably won't be long before they're done."

"They'd better."

And there they were, lying on their backs staring at the ceiling, taking in what had just happened, or rather what might have happened... if it hadn't been for the two shamelessly scandalous people who were fucking like rutting animals in the next room. They were uncomfortable in many ways, although they had to admit that the situation was funny at the same time.

The next evening they were in Oakland. They went to dinner and to stretch their legs a bit, seeing a bit of the city, and then to rest at the hotel where they would sleep.

"There are a lot of good looking guys around here," she said as they walked back to the hotel, noticing that there were a lot of metalheads around town, and she assumed that many of them might be like them: not from there, not living there, but had travelled there to attend the festival. "Something tells me they're here for the same reason we are."

He didn't say anything, he knew perfectly well that his best friend was crazy about long-haired men because she said so on several occasions, but still, he didn't think he had a chance with her even if he had long hair.

They still couldn't believe that they were already there and that the next day after lunch they would be at the stadium enjoying themselves like crazy.

The next morning they decided to take the car and go sightseeing in San Francisco, passing over the Bay Bridge of course. They were aware that with how big the city was and how little time they had before they had to be ready to go to the stadium in Oakland they wouldn't be able to see much, but they weren't there for sightseeing and seeing how different it was to Hawkins was enough for them.

The concert started at two in the afternoon.

She insisted that they had better be there as soon as possible to get parking in the stadium car park and to queue as soon as possible, so they drove back to their hotel in Oakland to get their tickets and then to the stadium. They were both wearing Metallica T-shirts.

Fortunately Eddie bought the tickets a few days after the event was announced, so they had tickets to be on the field and not in the stands, which was too boring and far away from the stage. As soon as the gates to the field opened, they and everyone else ran as if they were being chased with a chainsaw to get to the front row, in front of the stage.

"Do you see how I was right to come early?" she asked. They were almost in the front row.

"Yeah, yeah."

"I saw on TV once that this kind of thing happened at concerts in stadiums, at a Michael Jackson concert."

The first band to play was Victory, then Rising Force, then Metallica. At last the moment they had been waiting for the most, the moment they had travelled thousands of miles from their hometown on the other side of their big country had finally arrived.

_______ started screaming with excitement, jumping of joy and grabbing Eddie's arm, almost cutting off his circulation and digging her nails in when she heard The Ecstasy of Gold, a song by Ennio Morricone from the soundtrack for the film The Good, the Bad and the Ugly that they always played at the beginning of their concerts two years ago as they went on stage and prepared to play.

"Are you all right?" he asked, laughing.

"AAAAAAH!" she said, waving his arm.

"I agree," he laughed, "Ride on my back," he said, bending down.

"Oh," she thought the suggestion was a good idea, but she felt bad for him, because he would have to carry her weight for all or most of their performance and he wouldn't be able to enjoy doing headbangs, or pogos, or even raising his hands in the metalhead's signature horns symbol. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah," he said, "ride."

"Okay, thank you very much, really."

"You don't have to give them," he said as she mounted his back and grabbed it.

She had her favourite band member, Cliff Burton, practically a few feet away from her. She felt like if she reached out and lifted her arm she could touch him, even though he was actually about 20m away.

They started playing one of their favourite songs: Creeping Death.

She wasn't the only one going crazy with excitement and singing her lungs out for the song, there were many more people in the audience full of excitement to see the band playing live, and she was happy for them. They were a very good band, and it was one of the first times, if not the first, that they had played in a stadium in front of so many people.

"DIE! BY MY HAND, I CREEP ACROSS THE LAND, KILLING FIRST-BORN MAN! DIE! BY MY HAND, I CREEP ACROSS THE LAND, KILLING FIRST-BORN MAN, DIEEEEEE!"

Eddie looked up and saw her singing loudly with a smile from ear to ear that didn't fit on her face. He had never seen her so happy, and his smile grew bigger. Then he turned his attention back to the group in front of him.

"OH YEAH?" shouted James Hetsfield, the band's vocalist and rhythm guitarist, into the microphone, and then he tilted his head towards the audience and put his hand to his ear, as if trying to sharpen his hearing. He was clearly playing with the audience.

"OH YEAH!" they shouted, and many more.

"OH YEAH?" James shouted again, doing the same as before.

"OH YEAH!" they shouted again.

"FUCKING RIDE THE LIGHTIIIIING!" shouted James into the microphone, and he and the rest of the band started playing that song. "HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY! ARE YOU FUCKING OUT THERE?" he shouted raising his hand, encouraging the audience to be loud when they were already halfway through the song. "HEY! HEY! HEY! HEY!" he shouted in the same way almost at the end of the song, "I CAN'T FUCKING HEAR YOU!" he shouted as he put his hand to his ear. "HEY!"

Then he walked away from the microphone and stood next to Cliff. They were both doing headbangs and were perfectly in sync without even trying. Meanwhile, Kirk Hammett, the band's lead guitarist, on the other side of the stage was going more his own way.

When the song was over James walked over to the foot of the drum kit, where Lars Ulrich was standing, and picked up a small bottle of beer, probably fresh and alcoholic, and walked back to his microphone.

"ROCK AND ROOOOOLL!" shouted Eddie, and she laughed and shouted back.

"ARE YOU DOING ALL RIGHT?" asked James, and everyone shouted, "We've come here to kick some assess! [ . . . ] You know Cliff Burton over there?" He asked the crowd, pointing to his bandmate, the bass player. "Everyone, "Hey Cliff, how ya doing?"" he said waving his hand in greeting.

"HI CLIFF!" she and a few others shouted.

James stepped away from the microphone as he took a sip from the bottle of beer he had just picked up next to the drum kit, and Cliff began to play a bass solo while doing a light headbang, his head bent low and focused on the strings of his black bass while his hair moved incessantly, as did his fingers.

The best words to describe that bass solo were "Epic", "Legendary", "Magical", "Iconic", "Mind-blowing"... And it sounded like he was playing thunder instead of an instrument. ______'s eyes and mouth opened slightly without her noticing, and the hair on her body stood on end. Absolutely everyone was shocked, including Lars, who forgot to start playing the drums, and Cliff himself had to turn around and tell him he had to start playing. As soon as Lars started playing the drums, Cliff came back and played another epic bass solo.

She would recognise that rhythm anywhere, in any situation. It was For whom the bell tolls, and it was a song entirely written by Cliff. The smile on his face throughout the whole show, but especially during that song, was priceless. He kept doing headbangs, moving around the stage, gesticulating with his hands and singing to himself. You could tell he was excited to play that bass solo and his song in front of so many people enjoying it.

Then they started playing The Four Horsemen, a song from their first album, and it seemed that she wasn't the only one who was running out of voice, because she noticed James' voice faltering a bit.

The song was followed by Fade to Black, despite a boy in the audience shouting out Whiplash as a suggestion.

"Thank you! That was Fade to Black, from the album Ride the Lighting...! ...ARE WE GOING TO FUCK UP TODAY OR WHAT?" The crowd screamed in response, and he threw the pick at a person in the audience. "Good catch! ...WANT DESTRUCTION?" the audience shouted back in response. "By the way, this one goes... There's no other way, on the Kill 'em all album. We want to hear you scream! This song is called... SEEK & DESTROY!" The crowd screamed again for the third time, and more than the previous times. "I can't fucking hear you," said James pretending to be disappointed as the crowd sang the chorus. That was the song where the crowd was the loudest.

And last but not least, and finally for the fan in the audience who kept shouting it: Whiplash.

"THANK YOU SO MUCH!" said James as the song ended, "THANK YOU!

The crowd started screaming "Metallica!" non-stop, and seeing that they wanted more of them and that Y&T weren't ready to go on stage yet, they were allowed to play more songs. They chose to play half of Diamond Head's Am I Evil? and Motorbreath.

"Good day, whatever!" said James, waving goodbye to the audience. "Cheers! Thank you very much!"

As they left the stage, Eddie crouched down and she got off his shoulders.

"Well, we can go now," she said jokingly. "Thank you very much. I'll give you a massage later."

"Don't worry about it."

"That was amazing, my God!" she said as they walked out of the stadium after all the performances were over.

"I told you you had to come!" he said. "Thank goodness I convinced you into it."

"But can we talk about Metallica's performance? Oh my God, it's still not sinking in!"

"Cliff's bass solo in the intro of For whom the bell tolls made the hair on the back of my neck stand up," he confessed.

"Me too, man! And his smile throughout the whole song?! I love him, he's a genius and super adorable, I could tell he was living it up."

It took them a while to get out of the car parking and around the stadium as it was packed. Being from Hawkins, they had never seen so many cars together and so much traffic.

"Where do you want to go now?" he asked as he drove. It was still daylight, but it was late afternoon. "Are you hungry? Shall we go to dinner?"

"I'm not hungry yet, are you?"

"Neither am I."

"Not as hungry as the concert, but I can't wait to go to the beach and see the ocean. I'd like to see the sunset there."

"Then there we go."

They crossed back over the bay bridge and missed directions to the locals, peering out of the caravan windows. They were told that the best beach to enjoy the view, including the Golden Gate Bridge, was Baker Beach, so that's where they went.

They arrived at just the right time, at sunset. They took off their shoes and for the first time felt the sand under their feet and between their toes. The ocean breeze made their manes and their wide shirts move as the wind wanted them to, and for the first time they smelled the salty water. The eyes of _______ were fixed on the sun hiding behind the Pacific Ocean.

She decided to take her camera out of her bag and take a picture. Meanwhile, Eddie was looking at her. He thought she was prettier than the sunset. When she finished taking the picture, she put the camera back in her bag, put it on the ground and looked at the sunset again for a second, then looked at Eddie.

"This is the best day of my life," she said, teary-eyed but smiling.

"Hey hey hey," he said worriedly, "why are you crying?"

"I'm crying from happiness," she said as she smiled at her friend's concern and ran her fingers across her eyes to wipe away the tears, "it's a good thing."

Eddie put his arms around her and kissed her head repeatedly. She was too adorable, she could handle him. He loved her madly.

"It's the best day of my life, too," he said when they broke apart, and he placed one of his hands on her cheek, rubbing his thumb gently to wipe away the trace of the silent tear that had fallen down her face seconds before.

They both couldn't wait to tell the other that they loved each other, that they loved each other madly and not just as best friends, to kiss... But the fear of rejection and ruining the moment, the day, the trip and their friendship outweighed those desires.

"We haven't tasted water yet, how is that possible?" he said, grabbing her by the shoulders, trying to make her laugh and trying to distract himself from the impulse he had felt to confess and kiss her at that moment. "Come on!" he said, taking her by the hand and making her walk towards the shore, leaving her slippers, socks and bag behind.

"It's warm," she said, slightly surprised with her feet in the water.

"It must be because it's been in the sun all day. How about a swim? It's perfe-"

"Ugh, something touched my foot!" She said in disgust, lifting her foot and moving towards him.

"It's seaweed."

"I'm not taking a bath," she said, still disgusted.

"Because of the seaweed?" he asked, raising one of his eyebrows and smiling mockingly.

"It's too disgusting... For that I prefer swimming pools or bathtubs."

"It's just a plant, but a sea plant," he said, bending down and picking it up. He stretched out his arm to pull her closer but she pulled back as if he was holding a cockroach, and seeing how her body and face reacted, he couldn't help but laugh as he let go the plant. "Look, there's a very clean area over there," he said pointing with his head as he approached her, and while she was distracted for a second looking at the area he had pointed out to her, he bent down and grabbed her behind her knees and her waist, like a prince carrying his princess in a fairy tale that mothers told their daughters in bed before they went to sleep at night.

"What-" She didn't mind him grabbing her like that, in fact, she obviously liked it if it was him, but she stopped liking it when she saw Eddie start to go into the sea, into an area with too much seaweed for her liking. "Eddie, no! Don't even think about it!" and he laughed a wicked laugh, like when he saw his fellow Hellfire Club members in distress in a Dungeons and Dragons battle.

"Don't be a pussy!"

"Eddie I'm literally a pussy!" she said refering to her vagina.

"Not everything could be perfect this day, baby!"

"Eddie, if you drop me there, your uncle will never hear from you again! And I'm wearing clothes, not a bikini!"

"So what? The clothes are drying."

"Not in this air and it's getting dark, and I don't have a towel."

"Weeeell," he said, turning around while smiling and setting her down on the shore, on the sand.

They walked back to where they had left their things and she sat down on the sand. He decided to sit behind her, wrapping his legs and arms around her, resting his head on her shoulder.

"You're stupid," she said, annoyed but smiling at the same time.

"And you love me for it," he said, poking her lightly in the side with the tip of his index finger.

"Yes..." He sighed deeply, "very much, as you have no idea, much to my disgrace," she thought.

It was getting colder and colder, so they decided to go somewhere for dinner and then to the hotel to rest, trying to catch up on sleep while they were snuggled up to each other, as they were used to.

The next morning Eddie woke up with a horrible neck ache from doing so many headbangs and some back pain from holding _______ during Metallica's performance, so before leaving the hotel she lay on top of him on the bed and gave him the best neck, shoulder and back massage she could. She was smart and knowing how much her neck would hurt the next day and how fragile it was, she decided not to do headbangs.

Then they headed for Los Angeles and by lunchtime they were there, on Venice Beach with a few litres of alcoholic beer they had bought, and now they had their swimming costumes and towels on (and sunscreen, of course).

"We had rock and roll..." he said, referring to the festival, "we've had 'drugs', if we can consider them drugs...", he said, throwing his hands up in the air, one with a bottle of beer and a freshly lit cigarette in the other. She had forbidden him to bring weed for fear of being caught in a checkpoint. "The sex is the only thing missing."

"I don't feel like fucking any guy here," she said, "they all look like Barbie's boyfriend."

"And they all look like Barbies here," he said half-heartedly, to her surprise.

"But Barbies are pretty."

"Have you seen the sculptures of the ancient Romans? They're made of rock, they're quality and there are few of them. On the other hand, there are a lot of plastic ones, of poor quality and copies of each other. I prefer a woman made of rock."

"How do you know that, Shakespeare?" She asked with a mocking smile. "I thought you were bad at history."

"Yes, but not at art."

"Anyway, even if we wanted to fuck with someone here, I don't think they'd want to fuck with us."

"Speak for me, but not for you. You're beautiful."

"I'm not that much."

"Said the one who always has several guys behind her."

"But they're not Kens because I'm not a Barbie, I'm not popular."

"You are popular among the "weirdos" at school, and you know it, don't tell me you're not."

"Well, I didn't say I was ugly, I admit it, but..."

"You're beautiful. End of discussion."

"Well, all right, if you say so..." She looked away, holding her smile and blushing a little, "Thanks, I guess. You too," she looked back at him.

"Oh, you think I'm a pretty girl, too!" He said in a squeaky voice and put his hand to his chest, pretending to be surprised. "Thank you very much! Aren't you roasting? Shall we go in the water? Or are you still terrified of seaweed?"

"Mm..." Yes, actually yes, she was too disgusted by that.

"At least come and soak your feet, right?" he asked as he stubbed out his cigarette in the sand and got up.

"Well, okay," she said, doing the same as she made a bun with one of the hair ties around her wrists.

"The tide brings the seaweed to the shore," he said, pointing to it as the two of them stood there soaking their feet, "but look, it's all clear up ahead. You only have to go the first few yards. I can carry you and get you there without you touching any seaweed."

"Uh..."

The beach was full of people and she was embarrassed to be seen being carried, as if she didn't have the legs to walk and go into the water on her own. It would be more embarrassing if they found out how disgusting the seaweed made her feel, but it was not her fault that she found it disgusting, especially as an inland girl who could only swim in clean pools. But then she thought that she shouldn't give a shit what strangers thought of her and that she didn't want to miss the experience of swimming in the Pacific Ocean with her best friend after an epic and unforgettable trip, so she accepted the proposal.

"Well, okay," he thought he was going to carry her like he had carried her at the festival the day before, but he carried her like he had carried her on the beach in San Francisco, like a princess. That was a little more embarrassing than being carried like a little girl on hia back. "How are you not disgusted by stepping on them?" she asked, disgusted, referring to the seaweed as he began to walk deeper into the ocean.

"They're just plants," he laughed, "you act like they're cockroaches."

"But their touch is disgusting."

"I don't think it's that bad."

"Well, lucky you."

"You know there are people who eat them?"

"Good for them," she said indifferently, and he laughed again at her answer. "Oh, it's freezing!" she said, referring to the water when he was already deeper in, the water coming up to his waist, and she was wetting her butt.

"It's not that bad! Besides, what did you expect? Don't be a pussy!"

And when he finally reached the area without seaweed, he suddenly let her go, making her scream at such an abrupt change of temperature. She, annoyed, splashed him with her arm. He laughed.

"It would have been worse little by little, if you do it all at once it's less bad," yes, he was one of those who jumped in the pool, "or did you want me to baptise you?" He closed his eyes, shut his mouth, covered his nose with his hand and bent down, putting his head completely in the water. When he pulled it out, he shook her hair like a shampoo advert and splashed her a little.

They stayed on the beach most of the day, until it got dark and they went to the hotel where they would be staying that night.

On Monday morning, 2 September, they would start the journey home, back to Hawkins. It was a bit depressing, as they didn't want the trip to end, they had had too much fun, and on top of that they didn't feel like going back to school, especially as they had to repeat their last year.

It was the second time that Eddie had repeated his last year and the whole group of friends from ______ had graduated and left town, but at least they would be in the same class together.

The last night they spent together they were sad for that very reason, because it was going to be the last night they would sleep together. And the last morning they spent together Eddie woke up before she did, so knowing how little his best friend wanted to go back and start her last term again, he decided to wake her up by tickling her, making her squirm in bed, crying with laughter and screaming for him to stop.

They returned to Hawkins on Saturday evening. Eddie helped get their luggage out of his van and into their house, and her mother offered to stay for dinner with them, so she could listen to the stories of the trip told by the two of them. Knowing that his uncle would not be home when he arrived because of his work schedule, and knowing that his best friend's mother's food was better than anything edible in his house, he gladly accepted the invitation.

"The beaches were amazing. The one I liked best was the one in San Francisco, because of the view of the Golden Gate," she told her mother when the three of them were at the dinner table.

"But she was afraid to go in the water because she was disgusted by the seaweed," said Eddie, "and the next day in Los Angeles I had to carry her like a Disney princess to get her into the water without being brushed by any of the seaweed."

"I wasn't afraid, you exaggerator!" she said in her defence, "just disgusted."

And then it was time to say goodbye. They both felt it would be a long time before they would see each other again, but in reality they would see each other in two days, on Monday morning at the school.

"I had a great time," she said in front of him, holding his hands, looking at him and smiling wistfully beside his van, parked in front of her house, "thank you for convincing me to come, thank you for everything."

"Thank you for coming," he said, looking at her and smiling in the same way, squeezing her hands and then letting go to give her a long, tight hug. "I'll see you Monday at school, okay?" he said as they parted.

"Unfortunately," she didn't even have a spark of desire to go back there, who would? Only popular people or people who find it easy to study or the poor bastards whose validation depends on having high numbers on papers after spewing out useless data for everyday life. "Goodbye," she said as she began to walk backwards, waving her hand as a final goodbye, and then she turned around. He stood there, watching her walk away from him and through the door of her house, making the last direct eye contact with her eyes quickly before she closed the door behind her.

As much as she was looking forward to seeing her mother and being in the comfort of her home, and especially in the comfort of her room and bed, she felt that she had missed something of utmost importance along the way, that she was missing something important: it was him, and the post-concert, post-trip depression. The same thing happened to him, and on top of that his uncle wasn't at home to greet him when he arrived from dropping off ______ at her house, but he knew that was a likely thing. He would see him on Sunday at noon, as he had a night shift, and in the morning he slept.

Their beds were supposed to be their greatest source of comfort, especially after almost two weeks of travelling around the country, from motel to hotel and back again. So why couldn't they sleep? They were not stupid, they were aware of their feelings, but they didn't think it would affect them so much. They missed each other, they wanted each other to be there beside them, lying down and cuddling. He tried to hug his pillow but it wasn't the same. She wanted to hug a crappy stuffed animal he gave her off the arcade hook a year ago but it was too small to be cuddled.

Eddie could have perfectly well drugged himself to calm down and fall asleep as soon as possible, but instead he decided to do something even more stupid: get out of bed, leave the house, get in the van and drive to his best friend's house. Hopefully she was still awake, hopefully they could sleep together that night, hopefully he wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of her for having such a need like a little kid.

"Shit," he thought as he got out of the van, which he had parked in front of the house. He didn't see any light inside, everything indicated that mother and daughter had already gone to bed in their respective rooms.

But then he thought that just because she was in bed didn't mean she was already asleep. She decided to go to the side of the house and stand under her bedroom window. He bent down to the floor in search of pebbles to throw at the window to get her attention in a quiet way, without waking her mother or her neighbours.

He threw a pebble at her window, calculating his aim with his mind and throwing it hard enough so that it would reach the window but not break the glass even a little bit. It didn't rattle against the glass because there was no glass, the window was open because of the heat, but he thought that wasn't a problem, and maybe it was more effective for the pebble to go inside her room.

As it happened, the pebble ended up inside her room, bouncing on the floor, making noise, but he didn't know that for sure, he didn't know if that had woken her up if she was sleeping or if it had caught her attention enough to make her get out of bed and look out the window to see what was going on, so he decided to throw another pebble, and just as he was about to throw it, she looked out of the window.

"Eddie?" she asked in a whisper, surprised and confused. "What is it? What are you doing here?" He dropped the pebbles and took a few steps forward. It was the moment he was waiting for, what he had planned and wanted was happening, but he opened his mouth to speak and nothing came out of him. He didn't know what to say, because there was really a lot he wanted to express. "Do you want me to come down?" she asked, and he nodded his head quickly, but it was dark and she couldn't see it very well, so she decided to ask. "Yes?"

"Yes," he answered, "please."

"I'll be right there, wait a second," she said, who had to put on a pair of trousers because she was in her panties, go downstairs and get her keys.

"No hurry," he said as he moved away from the window. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. The longer it took her to come down, the more time he would have to calm down. He was restless, more than usual. He never used to get this nervous before playing in front of people from the school.

He heard the door of the house open and close and she approached him with the keys in the pocket of the shorts she had just put on. Crickets could also be heard not far away, and the leaves of the trees rustling in the thin breeze.

"What's the matter?" She said, approaching him with concern. "Has something happened?"

"No, no, it's all right," she saw how nervous and uneasy he was and knew he was lying, but she took his hands to calm him in every way. He gladly agreed, and he did calm down somewhat.

"So?" she asked, even more puzzled.

"Well... You see... I know it's stupid, but... Well, you know me, don't you? I'm like that, I can't help it..." There was a brief silence in which he didn't know what to say, or rather how to say it, trying to find the words in his mind while she looked at him and waited for whatever he was going to say. She didn't really know what to expect from him, and the situation was strange. "I couldn't sleep and I think it's because I'm missing you by my side," he laughed nervously again. She smiled and tightened her grip.

"The same thing was happening to me."

"Really?" he asked in surprise.

"Really."

"So...? Are we sleeping together tonight?"

"Please and thank you. At your place?"

"Okay."

"I'll come in for a moment to write a note to my mother for when she wakes up tomorrow and doesn't see me at home," he said, holding up her hand, pointing to her house with her thumb behind it, "okay?"

"Sure."

After what she said and did, they rode in his van to Eddie's house in absolute silence, no music, no talking. They didn't need to, and they didn't have anything to talk about since they hadn't seen each other for only two hours. The silence was not uncomfortable, they wore smiles on their lips and their hair swayed in the breeze coming through the lowered windows.

"If your uncle sees me and finds out that we slept in the same bed, he'll think badly," she said as she climbed into his bed and snuggled against him.

"Let him think what he wants, I don't care," he said as she settled her head on his arm, "he'd be happy and everything. Your mother is not the only one who matches us," which was true. Some people in town, especially in high school, just assumed the two of them were a couple.

"Yeah."

He started stroking her head, or rather her hair, with the hand on the arm she was using as a pillow. The other was on her back. They were pressed against each other. He had his neck in front of her face, and his tattooed chest exposed. They both felt at last at peace, completely calm and ready to sleep if they wanted to, but they didn't want to, they wanted to enjoy this moment of being conscious.

"You could have fallen asleep smoking weed but you didn't, why?"

"You're my favourite drug," he dared to say. The night made everyone feel vulnerable and sensitive, and he was no exception. Maybe he shouldn't listen to the things that went through his mind at night, but there were times when he couldn't help it, and that was one of those times.

That phrase and him going to her home to tell hee that he needed to sleep with her definitely had to mean something, something good and important, but she couldn't assume that either if it didn't come out of his mouth in a more explicit way. She didn't want to get her hopes up, make an Oscar-worthy movie in her head, and then get the shock and the downer.

Luckily for her, Eddie spoke without her asking any questions.

"There's something else I wanted to tell you..."

"What's that?"

"The problem is... I'm afraid to tell you."

"Whatever it is, you can tell me, Eddie. I love you madly and I'm going to be there for you no matter what."

"I don't know how to express it either..."

"So, if you can't put it into words.... Express it with an action," she said, believing where he was going.

Emboldened by his best friend's words and the late hours of the night, he decided to move the hand on her back to her cheek. With his thumb he brushed her lips to find out exactly where they were, for they were in their room in complete darkness, unable to see each other even if they were inches away from each other. Then he raised her head slightly and bowed his head, and at last did what he had wanted to do for more than half a year: he kissed her, confessing at last his deep feelings for her. She quickly returned the kiss, while a big smile formed on her lips.

"So... Is that what you wanted to tell me?"

"Yes, for a long time," he said, leaning his forehead against hers.

"How long?"

"More than half a year ago."

"Well, it seems we're in sync even for that."

"Do you feel the same way I do?" He asked, surprised and confused but happy at the same time.

"How do you feel about me Eddie? Please tell me, I want to hear it come out of your mouth," she said, now she was caressing his cheek.

"I love you. You are my Arwen to my Aragorn. When I hear love songs I can't help but think of you. You make me so happy just to be by my side. You are beautiful in every way and I have so much fun with you. You are not only my best friend and the person I love the most after my uncle, you are the woman of my dreams and I think you are my soul mate" with every sentence he said she got more emotional and it was hard for her to hold back the urge to cry with happiness, while he was still not processing that he had just kissed her, that his kiss had been reciprocated and that he was finally telling her out loud what he'd been keeping quiet and so deep inside for so long, "and I can't wait to fucking graduate so I can start working a full time job and save up to get married and live on our own and together in our own house, our own home. ...Although any place is a home if you're there," he suddenly heard a sob and felt a drop fall on his arm, the one that was being her pillow. "_______?" he asked frightened with fear that he had completely screwed up.

"I love you so much," she said crying out of pure happiness, her heart couldn't fit in her chest from all the happiness she was feeling, "you have no idea how happy you make me right now."

"So you're crying from happiness again?"

"I couldn't cry for anything else," and now it was she who jumped up and kissed him. Then he hugged her tightly.

"Do you want to be my girlfriend?"

"You didn't even have to ask."

"I wanted to ask you, I've wanted that for a long time and to hear a yes for an answer from you," she smiled even more, almost laughing at what he had just said.

"Yes, silly, I do."

"Now I'm completely yours, more yours than ever, more than I've ever been."

"I'll say the same."

They kissed again, and then he moved his free hand to her pillowy arm, and took off one of the three rings he wore. He took off the skull-shaped one and handed it to her, leaving it on her hand. She could tell which ring it was by touch.

"I want you to have it from now on, as a token of my love and our relationship."

"Thank you," she said, putting it on her thumb, as it was too big on the rest of her fingers.

Little else happened after that, just a few more kisses, caresses and the occasional playful touch but nothing more. They were exhausted from the journey and finally felt at peace, ready to sleep now that they were together physically and romantically.

[inkyquince]

Sincerely, Bailey (Commission)

characters. Bailey. (Hinted Briar. And Harper is Bcc'd out of worry)

cw. implied drunken bailey. violence, both physical and sexual. angry emotional bailey. mentions of sex trafficking, Robin slander. dubious consent of treatment of pc.

notes. Letter Commission for PippyLI! Once again, SO sorry how long it took to get out, having to do IRL stuff for a year basically sucked. Hope you enjoyed angry emotional Bailey! Thank you! Sorry i was FIGHTING to get this into an email format but oh my god it wasn't working at all.

From: CaretakersForYourNeeds@ub.com 

To: thorns@ub.com

Subject: 50% off Paneling for your Home, 5 Star Reviews Draft

B, look over this draft before I send it. 

Hello Customer! 

We are having a big sale on our boys coming in and sprucing up your home! Spend over £250 on our service and we shall knock off £20 to a whole new paint job for a whole room! Then £10 off for every third room painted! Spend over £500 on our service and we shall install new radiators for half price! 

Enough of that. If your wife reads further than that paragraph of what’s an obvious spam email, she’s too stupid to to be alive. Get rid of her and stop wasting my time. 

This is more of a courtesy email about your inquiry into one of our selections, number 209. I’ve been the caretaker of numbers 191 to 220 for a long time, and I can personally attest that that product is not suited for what you’ve outlined you wish to do. I know on their file it recommends consumers should enjoy taming, sadism, bondage at most in order to get any use out of them. However, in my professional opinion, they should be taken off the list and left to the gropers and rapists wandering the town, and the customers at the brothel. 

In my personal experience, they would have benefited to be put directly into the brothel  or the farm right away. Give them hands-on experience immediately rather than wasting time making them make money by themselves. They started out very promising in the beginning, very malleable but have proven to be a nuisance to both myself and the people around them. Either that or be put permanently underneath my care to make sure minor annoyances are kept at a minimum. 

They refuse to behave, even under threat of assault or worse. I do not think that anyone other than myself could handle them. Now, before I get a complaint from you, no, it’s not because I’m their caretaker and have paternal feelings towards them. I’ve watched them get their cunt stretched out by strange cocks too much to care about if they have a good time having sex. I would be helping the public by keeping them under lock and key. 

So my counter offer will be to take their friend, #201 in return. A whiny crybaby who reacts well to sadism. Of course, you might have to deal with them trying to save the little shit, but we don’t cover fees to do with losing a product halfway through your paid time. Just a warning. For a price of 30% of your original payment I could keep them busy so there’s no chance of missing out on your full 12 hours of paid time. 

I would be prepared to spend those 12 hours showing them exactly what happens when you don’t listen the first time. I’ve noticed that they become pliant to a rough fuck the longer it goes on, if they’re allowed to bite and get a few scratches in. No better than a mewling beast once all their thoughts go to their clit. They also seem fixated on riling me up enough to drag them down and fuck them. With other’s they bite and scratch and use pepper spray (I have no idea where they keep getting these, the supply in town is very limited), but despite the threats of shipping them off to the brothel or to a close friend, they instead fight. But no, they don’t fight me in a coherent, normal way, no, they’re diving for my cock and trying to make me cum while I’m trying to teach them to pay their rent on time. 

They love it. They love angering me, they love going into my office, they love offering up their body for a “one time” extension, even though they keep doing it, no matter how many times I ruin them against my desk, their cunt gripping me so tightly. Maybe they have a fucked up crush, or maybe they’re just sick in the head. 

But I can’t get rid of them, they bring in so much mney that I can’t kick them out. They bring in rent, they keep the other little shits quiet and they’re so fuckin good at their job that I have insane fuckheads like you asking personally to request them. But who cares, they clamp around a cock disgustingly tight, they suck down cock like it’ll divorce them if they don’t and now I have to write this breakdown on why you can’t experience that at 3am and getting hard while I do it. I never fuck orphans but apparently they live to make my day miserable and start off with a double of vodka with no fuckin mixer. All because some fuck came in after being kicked in the dick by this little shithead and wanted his fucking money back. I have to write fucking disclaimers now. What the fuck. 10 years ago we didn’t have to do this shit. What do you mean I have to spend 12 hours of my day fucking this Bin Baby so that they won’t wander away and save the most annoying boy I’ve ever met? What the fuck. The other day I had to fucking jerk off to when they buried their face in my crotch and whined for my dick. If it was anyone else, I’d kick them in the crotch until they would have to go to hospital. 

I have no idea what fucking crack their mother was smoking before throwing them in the dumpster but now I’m stuck with a little asshole who loves my dick and won’t fucking behave. You want to fuck that? Try to and you won’t be fucking found. I will fucking wring that stupid addictive scent of their body, their cunt, out of your skin, and sell it to the nearest freak. You want Morgan wearing your fucking skin for touching them? I’ll take your teeth so no one will ever fucking find you, but who would care, your wife? The one who might read a spam email? And doesn’t care that your dick hasn’t worked except for when she shit out your crotch spawn? You think I won’t fuck you up for the sake of your kids who are older than my fucking orphan? 

Fuck you and your ugly fucking kids. 

Sincerely, 

Blailey

P.S briar should i also add that if you stick your thumb in their asshole they tighten up enough that i can see stars? that the first time i fucked them i fucking said that their body always belonged to me? and it fuckin was and still is. i should break their stupid little boyfriend’s nose for thinking they own that little slut. the smell of their shower wash is fuckin insane but it isnt. makes me want to fuck their thighs and make them walk around all day smelling of cum. briar who even is this stupid fuck. 

From: thorns@ub.com

To: me

Bcc: Harper@nhs.com

Subject: RE: 50% off Paneling for your Home, 5 Star Reviews Draft

An insane person wrote this. No client will buy anything after reading this. Stop it.

-B

P.S. you misspelled money, as well as your own name. How. Are you smoking something that you aren’t sharing with the class? Also have you ever even heard of an oxford comma? Eden was the drop out, not you.

P.P.S. Don’t punch kids. Also stop drinking.