#what do you guys think of my cover of sweater weather?

[headkiss]

you’ll always know me (pt. 2)

part 1, part 2

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

summary: eddie misses you too much when he’s away, so he comes home again and invites you to join him on tour. the two of you figure some things out, too.

word count: 12.2k

warnings: fluff, some angst (i’m sorry!), childhood friends to lovers, librarian!reader, still idiots in love, and a kiss!!!

a/n: hiii thank you guys so so much for all the love on part 1 of this one!!! i hope u love part 2 (the finale) just as much!!! i really really enjoyed writing these two and hopefully you enjoy it too!!! please let me know what you think <3

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It’s about a month later when Eddie has another break from tour.

Rather than hanging around wherever in the world he is for the short time like he normally would on the short breaks, he finds himself booking a flight to Hawkins. Sure, he’ll only be there for about 48 hours, maybe less, but he doesn’t mind.

He really, really wants to see you.

Considering how often he talks to you on the phone now, it’d be tough to surprise you this time, so he doesn’t. Last call, he’d told you he had a couple of days off, with a seed of hope in your chest, you’d asked him what he was going to do, and the happy cheer you made when Eddie told you he was coming home is something he’d never forget.

“Is Wayne picking you up?” You’d asked, knowing Eddie would rather not take a driver if it’s possible.

“He’s gotta work.”

“Why don’t I come get you, then?”

And, well, how could Eddie ever say no to that?

That brings him here, walking along the familiar floor of the Indianapolis International Airport, a beanie tucked on his head despite the weather, a pair of sunglasses over his eyes despite being inside.

He’s lucky that it’s not a busy time at the airport, that people don’t really pay him any attention whenever he’s closer to home. One day, that might change, but he’s glad for now, for the sort of peace it brings.

His suitcase is tugged along behind him, wheels spinning against the tiled floors, his legs are stiff from the flight, his neck has an ache in it from his nap, but the discomfort sort of melts away when he sees you.

Eddie suddenly feels more aware of himself than he ever has around you, the pickup in his heart rate louder than ever. He assumes that’s got something to do with those feelings he’s got for you. Feelings he’s had and only just recognized.

You're standing by your car right outside the doors with the ‘pick up’ sign hanging over them, sweater sleeves long enough to cover your palms and a sign (a flimsy piece of paper, really) with the word ‘loser’ scrawled in sharpie.

“You’re still my loser,” he remembers you saying, that night in his van. That night he kissed you and you kissed him and everything felt exactly right for just a minute.

A soft chuckle leaves his chest as he walks through the doors, and even with his poor disguise on, you know it’s him right away. A pair of black jeans, ripped in the knees, a faded band tee, and messy curls. So clearly Eddie.

You want to say his name as soon as you see him, shout it excitedly and sort of embarrassingly. Instead, you let go of your paper with one hand and wave, bouncing on your feet just a little.

Your best friend, the best boy you’ve ever known, back sooner than you ever could’ve hoped.

A smile splits your cheeks, and a mirrored expression spreads on Eddie’s face, his eyes crinkling behind his sunglasses with the force of it.

When he’s close enough, he drops his suitcase handle and rushes to you, his arms going around your waist and crumpling your piece of paper between your bodies. His hug knocks the air out of you in the best way possible, the smell of his soap and cologne hitting your nose; pine and sandalwood and smoke and something sweet like vanilla.

His hair tickles your nose and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Your arms go around his neck, face tucked against his shoulder.

“Hey, trouble,” he breathes. There’s something like relief there.

“Hi, Eddie,” you say, and it’s quiet enough that he’s the only one that could hear you. He squeezes you even tighter, his hug so crushing you’re standing on your tiptoes to stay in it.

“Thanks for coming.”

You’d go to a lot of places for him, almost anywhere. The Indianapolis International Airport isn’t all that special.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a second, then remember that you’re still in public, that he’s Eddie Munson, and that you’ve been hugging for a long time for something friendly. Clearing your throat, you pull away and tear the edges of your paper between your fingers.

“Yeah, yeah. Get in the car.”

He does, a smile still on his face, though it’s softer now, a little shy. As soon as you pull away from the airport, Eddie tugs off his beanie and sunglasses. He’s often the one driving when you’re together (or, he was when he was always in Hawkins), so he takes this chance to lean his head against the seat and watch you drive.

There’s a small squint in your eyes when you look at some signs, and then he’s thinking about how you’d look in glasses, morning eyes bleary behind the frames. Pretty, he thinks. You hum along to the radio and he’s joining in.

“You’re one-upping me,” you say when he does. “It’s kinda unfair, mister famous singer.”

It’s sort of crazy, how you can say something so simple, so out-of-mind, and it’s enough to wash away any ounce of worry Eddie had that things would be weird now. He guesses you two are too far in now for something like a kiss—the best kiss of his life, probably—to change anything.

Too far into your friendship, of course.

“Stop, we used to sing together all the time,” he says.

“That was before you got a record deal! Now it’s unbalanced!”

“This is the best part of the song, trouble,” Eddie reaches over and twists the volume knob, turning it up, “sing along.”

You’re shaking your head and you’re smiling and just like that you and Eddie are harmonizing on the bridge. It’s pitchy (on your part) and easy (on his) and it’s pretty perfect.

The sun sits lower in the sky by the time you’re in Hawkins, pulling into the trailer park. There’s an orange hue in the sky, fading into pinks and blues.

Wayne’s car still isn’t back from work, and gravel crunches beneath your tires as you park in front of Eddie’s trailer. You look over at him, the time spent in the car talking and singing and soaking in his presence like a plant in sunlight doesn’t feel like enough and it feels like everything at the same time.

“Welcome home, Eddie.”

He glances over at you like he has time and time again on the way, eyes flicking over your features even as you turn to look towards the sunset out the window.

“It’s good to be home.” His eyes are still on you.

-

Eddie tried to wait up for Wayne that night, but he seemed to be working way later than he should’ve been (some things never change) and Eddie was more tired than he thought.

He showered, laid down, and he was out.

He wakes up with hair even messier than usual, his arm stiff from where he’d been using it as a pillow, and indents from the blankets on his bare chest. Telltale signs of a good sleep.

Walking out into the kitchen, that smell of crappy coffee and the sight of his uncle has him smiling, “morning, Wayne.”

“My boy,” his uncle sets down his newspaper to greet him, pushing back and standing up to give him a proper hug, hand slapping his back affectionately. “Back so soon. You missed me that much?”

“Sure,” he says, pulling back and grabbing a mug from the cabinet. “I wanted to say ‘hi’ when you got back yesterday, but I was out.”

“I know,” Wayne chuckles a little, “I checked on ya and found you snoring.”

“I don’t snore!”

“You snore, kid.”

“You have no proof,” Eddie says, sitting across from his uncle the way he has forever. “What kept you out so late, anyway? Car giving you trouble?”

Sinking into his seat a little, Wayne fights a smile, “no, not a car.”

“Wayne Munson! Were you on a date?”

The thought has Eddie grinning. His uncle deserves someone, he deserves to be loved in that way and to be less lonely.

“I’m the parent here,” he says, though it’s clear in the out-of-character shyness that Eddie’s right, “I’m the one who gets to ask questions.”

“I’m happy for you,” Eddie says.

“Shut up and go to the library, I know that’s why you came back.”

Eddie never really stopped to think of the exact thing that pulled him back here so soon. Obviously he wants to see you, he always does, but that hasn’t always been enough to get him home, as awful as that sounds. This time, it’s like he was searching for an opening, any sliver of time so that he could see your face and hear your voice at the same time.

So, yeah, maybe that is ultimately why he came back. And maybe he abandons his coffee mug in favor of getting dressed and driving his van over to the library.

You’re going through your system and finding overdue books, calling people and having to stay sweet even when they’re cold with you. It’s your least favorite task of the job, probably.

Then, the door’s opening and when you glance up to see who it is, it’s exactly who you’re looking for. Eddie, spinning his car keys around his finger, humming softly.

“So, where can I find a book on rock ‘n’ roll?”

“Dork.”

It was only yesterday that he saw you, and still, you’re a total breath of fresh air.

“What, you’re not happy to see me?”

“Of course I am. What are you doing here?”

“Um, hanging out with my best friend. Put me to work, trouble.”

Best friend, best friend, best friend. The words tug at your heart in two ways. One: even though he’s met so many new people, he still considers you his best. Two: you’re only friends.

“Okay, here,” you pat the desk beside you where the phone sits, “you can call my overdue books for me.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He walks around the desk to go behind it with you, pulling over a chair from the closest table and sitting down.

For every phone call you ask him to make, Eddie puts on some sort of voice. A British accent for one, his terrible high pitched old lady voice for another. You’re hiding your giggles behind your hand and you’re definitely not thinking of what your boss might say to you if she found out.

It doesn’t matter, it’ll be worth it to feel this way. Like no time has passed at all, like you and Eddie are kids hiding out in his trailer with the phone book open making prank calls for hours until Wayne had to cut you off. It’s then and now mingling the way they do when you’ve known someone this long.

The door opens again right after Eddie hangs up the last call, right after you’ve looked at each other and burst out laughing because of the reaction he’d gotten on the other line.

“My stomach hurts, Eddie,” you lean back in your chair, and he wipes at his eyes, “stop making me laugh.”

“I can’t help it, I’m just so funny.”

You slap his arm lightly, shaking your head. “So humble, too.”

You sit up when whoever had walked in comes up to the desk, and you find a young boy and a woman who you assume is his mother.

“Go ahead,” she urges him.

Nervously, the boy steps forward, “are you Eddie Munson?” He asks, and it’s then you notice the small Corroded Coffin pin on the strap of his backpack.

Eddie doesn’t really get approached in Hawkins, usually. The people here didn’t really like him for a long time, for the most part, and then they just sort of seemed to accept it. He doesn’t mind one bit, though. He’s lucky above a lot of things.

“Sure am. What’s up, buddy?”

“Could I get an autograph?” The boy asks.

“Totally!” Eddie stands up, grabbing a sharpie and a piece of paper from your desk before walking around it to greet the boy properly.

He kneels down in front of him, gives him a fist bump and wears the kindest smile you’ve ever known. You’re basically a puddle, watching the interaction with fondness melting in your chest.

“Who do I make it out to?” Eddie asks.

The boy looks up at his mom, who nods at him, and he turns back to Eddie, “Frankie.”

“Nice to meet you, Frankie. Sick name.”

Eddie uses his leg to write on the page, scrawling a small message that you can’t make out from where you sit. When he’s done, he looks back at Frankie and hands him the paper.

“There you go, buddy.”

“Thank you!” His smile is so wide, his eyes disbelieving as he shares a look with his mom.

“Thank you,” the woman says. “Sorry to bother you, have a nice day.”

“It’s no bother, no worries,” Eddie tells her, waving at the pair as they leave, “have a good one!”

When he turns back around to face you, you’re smiling all soft and adoringly and he’d sign a million autographs if you’d always look at him that way afterwards.

“What?” He asks, like it wasn’t a big deal.

“That was so cute, Eddie. Did you see his face?”

“What can I say, the people love me.” Eddie shrugs, playing it off. “Think you have some competition for number one fan, trouble.”

Yeah, right. If only he knew about that damn shoebox you have.

“Not a chance, Munson. That spot’s mine.”

-

It feels like you’ve blinked and you’re already driving Eddie back to the airport. Even so, you’re happy knowing that he came home again. It’s like that distance that had painfully wedged itself between you has been growing smaller and smaller, despite him being away.

With every phone call, every laugh, every utterance of the word ‘trouble’ in Eddie’s voice, something welds itself back together, healing over where miles apart had wounded it. Mending like a bone, fractured but never broken.

Beside you, Eddie’s been fidgeting with his rings, twirling them around his fingers as you drive. You’re not sure why, and you haven’t asked, because if he wants to, he’ll tell you and you’ll listen. He’s nervous, that much you know.

Eddie’s been thinking about asking you something for a while, and with how his gut twists when he thinks about not seeing you for months at a time again, he figures it’s worth a shot.

He wants to have you around when he’s doing what he loves, when he feels like he’s on top of the world. He wants you there and he thinks it might feel better than ever that way.

You drive up to the drop-off spot, pulling over and parking the car. Eddie turns to look at you, and you do the same so that you’re facing each other. He’s got a beanie on again, black with a small pair of dice embroidered on the front. There are dark circles under his eyes, and somehow his tiredness makes them shine even more, like the morning sun reflects differently.

“So,” he starts, dragging out the word. “I have a question for you.”

“Okay, shoot.”

Well, he’s gotta do it now, no matter the nerves or the fear of rejection.

“Will you come on tour with me?”

“What?” Is what comes out of your mouth because you’re not sure that you heard him right. Sure, you’ve seen him live plenty of times, but not at this stage of his career, not alongside him that way.

“I want you to come on tour with us, with me. We’re gonna be in New York for a bit, and you should be there.”

“Wow, Eddie, I- what about the library? Or traveling? I can’t afford-”

“A week,” he cuts you off, hand finding yours on the center console, his fingers weaving their way between yours so easily, like magnets finding each other, like it’s meant to be that way. “Come for a week, and obviously it’s covered, honey.”

You want to say yes, you want to shout it and kiss him again, really. Instead you worry a little. The library would be fine, you’ve yet to take any vacation days, anyway, but what if he regrets bringing you? What if he’s asking you on a whim and he doesn’t mean it?

“You really want me there?” You ask, gaze flicking down to your hand in his. His rings are cool against your skin, but his palm is warm, and when he squeezes, it’s an unspoken reassurance.

“I wouldn’t ask you if I didn’t, trouble. I promise.”

“You’re serious?”

You’re still looking at your hands, and that changes when Eddie ducks his head to catch your eye, his gaze is soft and serious all at once, his smile sticky sweet.

“I want you there. If that works for you, I want you there.” His thumb runs a pattern over your hand, back and forth again and again. “If you want to, you’re more than welcome, and I'll take care of it.”

You might not even let him leave if he keeps talking to you like that, delicate and kind with zero trace of doubt. None at all.

“Okay.”

“Okay, you'll come?” His hand is holding yours tighter, like hope spills from Eddie’s body and needs somewhere to go.

“Yeah, I’ll come. I’ll have to check with my boss, but-”

You’re cut off by Eddie’s arms pulling you into a hug. It’s uncomfortable, leaned across the center console, seat belt digging into your stomach, but you wouldn’t dream of pulling away.

“I’m so glad,” he says.

Your face is hidden in his hair, your smile hidden just the same. You’re glad, too.

“You’re gonna be late, Munson.”

He breathes you in again before pulling back, “trying to get rid of me?”

“Trying to make sure you don’t miss your flight.”

“I know. I’ll see you soon?”

He’s unbuckling his seat belt, pushing the door open, but he doesn’t move to get out until you respond.

“Yeah, you will. You’ll have to call me, though. I don’t know where you’ll be.”

“I’ll call you, honey.”

When he gets out and grabs his bags, when he turns to wave at you one more time before going inside, it doesn’t feel so bad this time. Your chest feels whole, your smile still on your face.

I’ll see you soon. It feels much better than a goodbye.

-

True to his word, Eddie covered everything. Your flight, booking the hotel, and more he probably hasn’t told you because he knows that you have a hard time accepting him paying for everything.

You’d even tried to argue it over the phone, and he’s said “too late, babe. It’s already done.”

Now, with a week ahead of you, you’re in New York City of all places, trailing your suitcase behind you as you exit the airport in search of the car Eddie said he’d send for you. Black, tinted windows, guy in a suit standing by it. It’s easy enough to spot when most people around are wearing sweats.

“Hi, you’re here for me, I think?” You say to the man by the car, telling him your name and getting a nod in affirmation.

“I’m Hank, nice to meet you.”

Hank takes your bag for you, even when you assure him you could do it. So, with nothing else to do, you open the back door and slide into the car, door swinging shut behind you. You’d fully expected to be by yourself, and okay with it, too, but you aren’t.

Right there in the backseat with you is Eddie.

You practically tackle him in the seat, surging forward to hug him, leaning across the leather to get to him. You’re not sure what carried you to do it. Maybe it’s the fact that he paid for everything, that he wants you to be here enough to do that. That he wants you here at all.

The wind is sort of knocked out of Eddie when your arms wrap around his neck, your hug crushing in his favorite way. He’s not complaining one bit. He’s so excited to have you here to see this world of his, for you to be able to see something you helped him achieve, whether you know it or not.

So, with a huff pushed from his chest, his arms curl around you, too. Smooth and easy.

“Happy to see me, trouble?”

“I thought you’d be busy,” you say, because his question is already answered with the tiniest squeeze of your grip around him. “And you jerk, you got me first class?”

You draw back into your seat when Hank gets back into the car, unsure of how much he knows or how much he’ll say. Not that you’re ashamed for hugging Eddie, but you’re afraid that he might read things the wrong way and you’ll have to (painfully, achingly) correct him the way you did with Argyle a while ago.

You distract yourself by tugging your seatbelt over and clicking it into place.

“‘Course I did. Had to get the best for you.”

“You didn’t have to,” you say, and looking at Eddie’s face you don’t feel so worried about Hank anymore. You practically forget he’s there. “But thank you.”

“Goin’ soft on me?”

His voice is teasing. He deflects because he can’t exactly tell you that he chose first class, that he covered everything, that he flew you out to him because he’s burying his feelings for you into it all, that it’s easier to do these things without you realizing what it means than it would be to come right out and say it.

He needs more time for that. Time to get brave, to see if you might feel the same. If you might let him kiss you again.

“Maybe I’m just tired. Getting delirious.” You’re really not, but just to be safe you add on a small jest of, “loser.”

Still, your tone betrays you, affection woven into the word.

You share a smile with him, eyes sparkling the way they seem to do when you’re with each other. The glow that only appears when you’re in the presence of someone you like this much, someone you know this well. It says enough.

Turning your head, you look out the window, skyscrapers surrounding you, the skyline flying by as you go. Your mouth drops open a little in awe, the busy streets and towering buildings a far cry from the small town you’re so used to.

While you peer outside, Eddie looks at your face in the reflection of the window, accomplishment blooming in his chest at the widening of your eyes and the look on your face.

Shit, he’s so happy to have you here.

It’s not long until you reach the hotel, the sight of the city enough to occupy you for the drive. Even from the outside, it looks expensive, and you’re about to tell Eddie you can’t let him pay for this again when he stops you, “I already paid for your room, so don’t say anything. Just enjoy it, okay?”

“You’re insane, Munson. Wow.”

He knows you mean it as a compliment; he can pick out the intentions from your voice with ease by now, he thinks.

“Wait until you try out the bed.” Eddie pulls on a beanie he’d had in his pocket, then the sunglasses that had been hanging from the neck of his shirt. “Ready to go in?”

“Hell yes. Need to wash the airport off of me.”

“‘Kay.” Eddie then turns towards your driver, “thanks Hank. And don’t worry about the bag, I’ve got it.”

“Of course, Mr. Munson.”

He opens his door and you follow suit, stepping out of the car and watching as Eddie gets your suitcase from the trunk.

“I can take that,” you offer, reaching for the handle as he walks you towards the entrance.

“Kindly, fuck off, trouble. I got it.”

You hold your hands up in surrender, a little too happy with the way his hand flexes around the handle of your bag, too happy with his insistence to do this simple thing for you.

Even though he doesn’t need to, he stands with you during your check-in process, and he carries your bag over to the elevators and down your hallway, too.

“This is you,” he says, stopping at your room even though you’re the one holding the key.

“How’d you know that?”

“‘Cause I’m right next door,” he says, grinning at you, “I booked it, trouble. We’re neighbors!”

“You’re such a dork.” You’re grinning right back.

-

The crowd’s cheers are piercing. Chants of the band’s name covering every other sound in the venue.

You’re backstage, watching them all warm up in their own ways. Gareth tapping his drumsticks together, Jeff shaking out his hands, Eddie bouncing on his feet. It’s a complete whirlwind of crew setting up, of commanding voices left and right and it’s sort of unbelievable to be standing in the midst of it all.

You move out of the way with an apology when a stagehand moves by you with a guitar. Eddie’s guitar, red and black and the same one he’s been using since he could afford the instrument. The familiarity of it has you smiling.

The memories that guitar must hold, you wonder, the places it’s seen.

With his guitar now over his neck, Eddie turns to you, energy practically rolling off of him, like every shout from the crowd charges him up further.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he says, stepping close enough to talk into your ear, over the screaming and the bustle of the crew. “So fucking glad.”

“30 seconds until you’re on, guys!” A woman wearing a headset shouts.

Eddie pulls back enough to look at your face, but he stays close, his nose inches from yours, his excitement somehow spilling from him and into you. It’s the sort of infectious feeling you get when it’s obvious someone’s doing what they love, when their passion is palpable.

“Break a leg, Munson.”

“Five seconds!”

“See you on the other side, honey.”

Eddie reaches for your hand, gives it a firm squeeze, and then he’s off, jetting onto the stage behind his bandmates. The crowd roars even lowder, enough to leave your ears ringing but you don’t care. You take it in.

It’s one thing to read about it, to see pictures, to see footage on TV, even. But seeing it for yourself is a whole new kind of crazy.

The size of the audience is a far cry from the shows they used to play at the Hideout, the words to the songs being known and sung just the way Eddie had always dreamed. The pride that swells in your chest is huge, a balloon expanding and expanding only you don’t think it’ll ever pop. There’s always more room to be proud of someone you love.

You stand side stage, exactly where Eddie had told you to. Just far enough that the audience can’t see you, hidden by shadows, but close enough that he can see you.

Eddie hasn’t felt this way at a show for a long time. Not to say he doesn’t love every show, because he does, but sometimes the energy will feel different, better, higher. The crowd is a great one, and even more importantly, you’re here.

You’re here and Eddie flicks his eyes over to you constantly during the show because he just can’t help it. The wide smile on your face makes him want to work harder to keep it there, the way you bop along and mouth the words to his music is something he’ll never forget.

You know the words. Of course, you’d known them to the early songs, when his only performances were in Hawkins and you were at every single one. But even now, albums later, you know the words.

And to top it all off, you’re wearing Corroded Coffin merch, a baggy t-shirt tucked into your jeans. God, he can’t stop fucking looking at you.

Between songs, he goes over to Gareth, and then Jeff, speaking into their ears without a mic so you don’t know what he’s saying. But by the gleam in his eyes, you know he must be up to something.

He walks over to the side of the stage where you stand, trading off his current guitar for his acoustic one, even older and worn than the last. The painted letters reading ‘this machine slays dragons’ scratched and faded by now.

You’d been there when he painted them on, giggling at the lopsided way they turned out, pouting when Eddie smeared paint on your bare arm in retaliation.

He’s gone from playing it in his bedroom in the trailer to playing it for thousands of people.

“Alright guys,” he starts, back at his mic. “We’re gonna slow it down for this next one, that sound okay?”

The response he gets is a wave of cheers.

“Alright, alright. Cool.” He starts strumming, chords you recognize right away. “We’ve got a cover for you tonight. I want to dedicate this song to my best friend. This one’s for you, trouble.”

Your eyes are misty with unshed tears. He’s playing your favorite song, the only one you’d ever learned on guitar because you forced him to teach it to you. Your hands go to your cheeks, warmth bursting through you at his gesture.

And he’d called you ‘trouble.’ Hadn’t used your name because this is something that’s just for you and him. Yours.

Eddie flicks his eyes over to you (again) as he sings, his hands moving with ease on his guitar because he’s known how to play this song for ages. Longer than his own songs, even.

His heart sort of melts at the expression on your face, dripping down his ribs in oozing, pink waves.

Even from where he is, even with the lights beaming down on him, he can see the tears in your eyes, the way your hands hold your face the way they do when you’re overwhelmed. He hopes it’s in a good way, and with the way the words of the song are broken up by a smile on your face, he thinks it is.

After the song, with a quick ‘thank you’ into the mic, Eddie walks offstage, towards you again, to switch his guitar back. Before he puts the other one over his neck, though, he rushes to you.

The arm that isn’t holding his guitar tugs you around your neck into a hug. He’s sweaty and breathing hard, his chest rising and falling where it’s pressed to yours, but you don’t care. You hug him around the waist and squeeze.

“Thank you,” you say, loud enough for only him to hear.

“Thank you, trouble.”

A kiss to the top of your head, and he’s off again.

Eddie’s back at the mic quickly, his guitar in place again. “Alright everyone, back to our regularly scheduled programming.”

-

After the show, Eddie brought you back to the green room with the rest of the band, his fingers wrapping around your wrist as soon as he ran off stage to tug you along with him. Insistent but kind in the way he did it, sure not to pull too tight, turning his head to check on you behind him along the way.

Even when you’re worlds away from his, from the fame and the constant travel and the fans, Eddie makes you feel like you’re a part of it. Like you belong here.

There’s a couch pressed to one of the walls in the green room, chairs set up around it for more seating, a table of snacks and water bottles set up near the door.

Conversations happen all around you, crew members, photographers, big paper writers, but yours is seperate.

After the well-deserved congratulations on a great show, you, Eddie, Gareth, and Jeff found your places on the couch, heads turned towards each other. You’re on the edge, Eddie next to you, his thigh, arm, shoulder, all squished against yours.

It’s nice. The warmth of his skin against yours, the post-show adrenaline that has all three of the boys in a great mood.

After all, Gareth and Jeff were your friends, too. Not in the way Eddie’s your friend, of course. You don’t think anyone could ever come close. Being with all of them reminds you of when you’d watch them practice in Jeff’s garage in high school, sitting sideways in a chair they’d left in there for you, legs kicked up on the armrest.

“What a show,” Gareth says. Eddie’s told you before that a good crowd makes a huge difference, and it’s clear in the way the three of them talk about it, the way they smile and shake their heads at what they’ve accomplished.

“I mean, someone flashed me their tits, so it’s definitely a good night,” Jeff, on the opposite end of the couch from you, sighs happily.

You scrunch your nose.

“Gross, dude.” Eddie leans over Gareth to shove Jeff’s shoulder. “There’s a lady present.”

“Come on! She hung out with us in high school. Peak outcast status.” Jeff defends himself. “She’s hardly a lady to me. No offense.”

“None taken, Jeff.” You lean forward to address him, smiling kindly.

“See? None taken, asshole.” Jeff shoves Eddie back.

By doing so, he’s pushed even closer to you, his weight against you further. Eddie stabilizes himself with a hand on your leg, his palm warm through the fabric of your jeans. He leaves it there even when he sits normally.

“So,” Gareth grabs your attention with your name, “how’s Hawkins? Missing us horribly?”

“Let’s just say, the Hideout is pretty boring now.”

“Good riddance.” Gareth teases, giving Jeff a high five.

You know it’s mostly a joke, but it also isn’t, really. These boys weren’t treated right there. Ridiculed for having passions and hobbies that weren’t so conventional. They’re right to be glad to be away, to be glad to be loved now.

Still, there’s a dull ache at the thought that Eddie feels the same. That Hawkins is too small, too awful for him. That you’re not enough for him, having your life there.

Then, you’re reminded of his hand on your leg, and you shake off your thoughts, covering them with a smile.

“You know,” Jeff, the most lacking of a filter of the group, says, “this guy’s a whole lot happier now that you guys are talking a bunch.” Eddie, he means. You know by the way he ruffles his hair.

Eddie shifts in his seat. He wants to tell Jeff to shut up, to stop because he could say too much, could give away too much. He knows he loves you, and he will tell you, he will. But not like this.

He settles for a glare in Jeff’s direction.

“Oh, I’m not-” you start, flustered at the idea of being any kind of reason for Eddie’s happiness, especially being one that causes a noticeable shift.

“No!” Gareth jumps in, “it’s true. He used to grump around the hotel room and yell at us for having the TV on too loud-”

“I did not yell.”

“-and now he doesn’t care ‘cause he’s on the phone with you, anyways.”

“Right!” Jeff again. “First thing he does when we get to a new hotel is lock himself in his room and call you. It’s soooo cute.” He pitches his voice up for the last bit, resting his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands, a faux-innocent smirk on his face.

Eddie thinks he might punch Jeff right now. He thinks that often but he’s actually, really considering it (he’s not really, but still). He sounds like an absolute dork, the way Jeff puts it, even though he’s right. Relying on your voice through the phone to make his nights, counting down the minutes until the next time he can call.

He’s so pathetic over you. So pathetic and so in love he doesn’t know how he didn’t see it before.

He musters an: “okay. Shut up.”

That’s when you look at Eddie, who’s spinning the ring around his thumb on the hand that isn’t on your leg, looking down at his lap all sheepish. There’s a tinge of pink spreading from his cheeks to the tips of his ears that you can see with the way he’s wearing his hair, a messy bun at the back of his head.

It’s fucking cute. You want to kiss him so bad for it. Instead, you hold the hand that’s on your leg, nudging your shoulder into his.

-

The next day comes and goes. You have the day to yourself to explore New York, wearing in your platform mary janes and doing enough walking to wake up a little sore tomorrow, but it’s great.

You eat brunch by yourself in a quiet cafe, your current read open on the table in front of you. The rest of the day is spent being a full-on tourist, which you’re a little embarrassed about, but it’s a big city, and you definitely aren’t the only tourist around.

Well, the rest of the day minus dinner.

Eddie couldn’t join you because of some press stuff, feature pictures for a magazine, a couple of interviews, a small writing session. Of course, he’d invited you along, but you didn’t want to get in the way, and there were things you wanted to see. It worked out.

Nonetheless, Eddie made sure to meet you for dinner, because there was no way he wasn’t going to do anything with you at all. He’s got about 4 days left, he isn’t going to waste a second.

He’s there before you are, signaling you over before the hostess can offer to seat you, and you send her a smile as you make your way over to Eddie’s table. He’s gotten you both a booth in the far corner, an echo of the table you’ve claimed as yours at Benny’s back in Hawkins.

Eddie trusts this place, it’s private and small enough to have no sign or awning outside. A good place to hide in plane sight.

Despite the reminder, the place is much different than Benny’s. Fancy enough to have you kicking Eddie’s leg under the table at the prices, which he tells you not to look at, tells he’s buying and you don’t have to worry. You still stick to the cheaper side of the menu.

So no, it’s not Benny’s, but Eddie still steals food from your plate, still smudges whipped cream on your nose after convincing you to split some dessert with him.

Over bites of cake he tells you about the song they were working on today—leaving out that he’d written a lot of lyrics about you—and how far they’d gotten.

“It’s not done, but it’s getting there.”

“Does that mean you’ll play it for me?” You ask.

“Mmm, I don’t know.” Eddie taps his chin like he’s contemplating. “You did kick me earlier.”

“Hey! I’ve kicked you before without consequence.”

“You know you’re really not helping your case here, trouble.”

“I’ll hear that song, Munson.”

And it’s left at that, because you will. Eddie can't really say no to you (has he ever been able to?) and he misses playing his songs for you before anyone else. Minus those involved in making it, obviously.

With the bill paid by Eddie, after much stubbornness, the two of you slip out the front doors with twin smiles on your faces, so saccharine it’s insane that the two of you are mostly oblivious to the other’s feelings.

Your smiles fade quickly when a wave of camera flashes go off on either side of the doors, surrounding the entrance to the small restaurant.

There’s a rock in Eddie’s stomach, sinking in dread that you’re with him as this is happening. It’s not what you signed up for and it’s not something you deserve.

“Eddie, over here!”

“Who’s the girl?”

“Is that your girlfriend?”

The shouts come all at once, overwhelming and intimidating and you have no idea what to do. Your hands shake a little, your heartbeat a rapid thumping in your chest.

Eddie’s instincts kick in quickly, though, having been through this many times before. This time, it’s worse. This time, there’s you.

He tosses an arm over your shoulder and rests his hand on the back of your head, gently urging you to look down so that they don’t get your face, his other hand grabbing your arm lightly to take you to the car where Hank waits.

Eddie opens the back door and urges you in first, shielding the entrance to the car as you shuffle across the seat to give him room. He slams the door as soon as his feet are inside, telling Hank to head back to the hotel.

Your chests are rising and falling in tandem, a matching rhythm. Scared, overwhelmed, anxious, and all for different reasons. You, from the completely foreign situation. Eddie, from how badly it could’ve fucked things up.

“Shit.” He breathes, and then his hands are on your face, cupping your cheeks to turn you towards him. “Shit, honey. I’m so sorry. I had no idea they’d- are you okay?”

His touch is grounding, his immediate concern being you and your feelings casting a warmth over your nerves, the sun breaking through the clouds of your mind.

“I’m okay. It just startled me.” You grab his wrists in hopes that your touch can help him, too. “But I’m okay. Don’t be sorry, Eddie. It’s not like you called them there. This isn’t your fault.”

“I didn’t think anyone knew me there.”

“People know you a lot of places, mister rockstar.” You’re trying to ease the atmosphere, but the worried furrow in his brows stays put. “Eddie, I’m okay. I swear.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop with that.” Then, another attempt at brightening things, you try to joke, or maybe you’re thinking out loud. “What if they call us a couple?”

Your voice has a teasing lilt to it, but there’s more underneath it. For once, Eddie can't exactly read what it is.

His thumbs stroke over your cheeks mindlessly, his eyes flicking all over your face. So fucking pretty, he thinks. And so his reply isn’t what you expect, but he can’t help it when you look the way you do and when you’re fighting off his concerns with only a few words.

“Would that be so bad?” He says it more than asks it.

It’s your turn to study him, the endearing blush to his cheeks, the way his bangs fall over his forehead, the way his eyes flick between your own.

“No, I guess not.”

For a split second after you speak, you think he might kiss you again, his face barely inching towards yours, his fingertips easing into your hairline.

And then Hank coughs and Eddie’s hands are gone and yours fall away from him, too.

Eddie clears his throat, tugging at the collar of his shirt. Be normal, he urges himself. So, he offers, “how ‘bout I play you that song?”

And when you get back to the hotel, that’s exactly what he does.

-

It’s hours later and you’re still in Eddie’s room. There was the song—the fucking song, played acoustically since that’s all he has in the room, his voice and his guitar and his lyrics—and then a movie paused halfway through so that you could change into pajamas in your room, and then the rest of the movie.

Now, it’s idle chatter, the paparazzi speed bump gone from your minds by now, replaced by a debate on whether or not the movie you just watched was good.

“It was so bad, Eddie. Are you joking?”

“You just don’t have the sophisticated movie knowledge to know good cinema when you see it.”

He’s totally lying. The movie was awful, but Eddie likes to argue with you. He likes the way you scrunch your nose or eyebrows at his stupid jabs, likes the way you’ll smile the entire time because you’re never actually arguing.

“‘Sophisticated movie knowledge,’ he says. Like you haven’t just rewatched the same twelve movies your whole life.”

“And those twelve movies are all amazing!”

“I think to consider yourself sophisticated you’ve gotta watch twenty-five movies. At least.”

“Since when are there rules? Knowledge is knowledge, babe.”

“There are rules since now. We can’t go around letting just anyone say they know movies.”

“Who’s we?”

“Um…”

“Hm?” Eddie urges, a smile growing on his face because he hasn’t had this much fun, hasn’t felt this light, in a long time.

“I don’t know.” You give up, shrugging your shoulders. When a puff of breath leaves Eddie’s mouth, the failed holding back of a laugh, you lean over and shove his shoulder. “Shut up.”

You’re sitting cross-legged in the middle of Eddie’s hotel bed. It’s huge, a king size with like ten pillows and crisp, white blankets. It’s a mess now, the blankets shifted and wrinkled, some pillows tossed on the floor, one on your lap.

“I totally just won that.” Eddie says.

“You did not! That movie fucking sucked, Munson.”

He’s sitting near the end of the bed, half facing you, half facing the TV. After you speak, though, he fully twists towards you, shifting so that he’s leaning on his hands in front of you.

“You wanna say that again?”

“That movie sucked.”

“Okay. That’s it.”

And then he’s on you, his fingers pushing into the soft of your tummy to tickle you because he knows that’s where you’re the most ticklish. This is how he used to win all of the arguments.

“Jerk!” You try to push at his shoulders, words broken by giggles, but he’s relentless. “Get off me!”

“Admit you lost.”

“No.”

“Well, then. Your fault.”

Eddie keeps going until you’re breathless from laughing and attempting to overpower him. As a last resort, you bring your knee up and hit him in the thigh. Being the dramatic he is, Eddie clutches his leg and falls onto the bed like he’s been shot.

“Ow, fuck. How am I gonna perform in these conditions?”

“Oh, stop.” You’re laying beside each other now, your face turned towards Eddie, his up at the ceiling in his fake pain. “I just won, by the way.”

His act falls away after you say it, and you think he’s gonna strike again, tickle you or make another silly counterpoint. Instead, he turns towards you, too, your noses a whisper apart, breath hitting each other's faces.

“I fucking missed you, trouble.”

“Yeah.” Your chest is rising and falling steadily, still recovering from Eddie’s tickles, maybe from his words, too. “Me too.”

Your hair has fanned across your cheek from the movement, and Eddie reaches out to push it away, behind your ear. His fingertips are gentle, featherlight, but they have your face nudging into the touch anyways. Like you couldn’t help it, like it’s an instinct.

And then, in a moment, a simple blink, Eddie’s pushing himself closer, putting his lips on yours. Eddie’s kissing you again.

His hand settles itself fully on your cheek, fingers splayed over your skin, sure to leave behind streaks of gold. Or, at least, you’d think they would. The feeling sparkling in shimmers across your cheek.

Your brain takes a second to catch up, but when it does, you’re already kissing him back, your fingers tucked into his guitar pick necklace to tug him closer. It’s easy, you think, to kiss him. Easy to want this, to move your mouth in rhythm with his.

You’ve only kissed once before, but it’s like you’ve been doing it a lifetime with how right it feels.

Eddie hadn’t even realized he was going to kiss you until he was doing it. His thoughts were all you you you and then his eyes were on your mouth and then he was there, kissing you.

He nudges his knee between your legs, shuffling himself even closer to you without breaking it because he’s afraid that if he pulls away, it’ll be the end and he doesn’t want that. He could kiss you forever, could kiss you until he’s completely sick, until there’s no oxygen left in his lungs because all he can breathe in is you.

Your other hand holds his arm, fingertips just under the sleeve of his t-shirt, his warmth seemingly seeping into you through your hand, spreading down your arm and into your stomach and everywhere.

You really like kissing him. You like it so much.

Eddie’s wondering how he’ll ever let you go home after this, how he’ll be able to say goodbye to you at the airport and go back to touring with his bed empty and nobody to give him shit over a movie. Luckily, he doesn’t have to deal with that now.

No, now it feels like he’s dreaming. Because he’s kissing you and it’s even better than he remembered from last time and he wants to be allowed to do this always.

He leaves it at kissing, this thing too delicate to risk, too long spent building up to this and he wants to enjoy every moment. He’d be content if all he could do is kiss you, because it’s the best thing he’s ever had. You’re the best thing he’s ever had.

It’s long before either of you pull away, a push and pull of your mouths, breaking apart for less than a second before jumping back in. When you do pull away, it’s mutual, both of your breathing coming out in pants, both of your mouths slightly agape, eyes locked on each other’s.

Eddie moves first, pulling you over so that your head is tucked beneath his chin, nose pressed against the neckline of his shirt. He’s got a hand tossed over your waist, palm flat on your back, the other holding the back of your head to him.

You fall into place easily, just like you had when he kissed you. One of your hands is wedged under his neck, the other still on his arm. It’s like you’re a set, two pieces meant to fit together just like this.

“I think I won, trouble.”

“Shut up.”

In the morning, you wake up in a similar position, having fallen asleep with the TV humming in the background and the haze of your kiss still heavy over you both.

Now, however, you’ve shifted a little bit. Eddie’s on his back, but he’d brought you along with him in his sleep. Or, you’d followed. Either way, your head’s rested on his chest, your arm tossed over his stomach where his t-shirt rides up to reveal a patch of skin.

You’re struck with the thought that you’ve shared a bed before, countless times, but never this close. You’ve cuddled before, too, but it’s never felt like this. Intimate, affectionate, more.

You close your eyes and go back to sleep, not quite ready to give this up.

-

When you’d woken up the second time that morning, Eddie was already up, the door to his ensuite shut with light slipping under the doorway. And when he’d walked out with a “good morning, sleepyhead,” it was like everything was normal.

You’d fallen into your routine with him, and now, after not nearly enough time, you’re at the airport again. The last couple of days a blur, your parting ways this morning even more so.

Hank had driven you again, and Eddie made sure to be in the car with you, to squeeze out every second of time left. You’d hugged each other in the back seat, whispered ‘I’ll miss you’s and ‘thank you’s for the week you had.

The ache slipped into you again, the uncertainty of when you’ll see him next, the feeling of missing him that lingers and lingers.

Still, you’d twisted around and waved to the tinted windows of the car with a smile before going inside, knowing he’d be behind them, really hoping he’d be looking.

Of course Eddie was looking. He peered into the glass doors of the airport until your figure was completely out of sight, until Hank had to ask him if he was good to go. He should have kissed you goodbye, he thinks. Should have kissed you and told you how he felt but he has no idea how. Next time, he’ll say it. He has to.

The trek through the airport is boring, and you’re still early by the time you get to your gate. Hoping to pass time, you head into one of the duty-free shops.

That’s when you see it.

There’s a wall of magazines and newspapers, a whole shelf taken up by a picture of Eddie. A picture of you and Eddie. It’s from that night at the restaurant, and you’re lucky that your face can’t be seen, ducked down and covered by shadows and Eddie’s hand.

Surprisingly enough, the picture isn’t what gets to you, it’s what’s written about it. You drift over and flip to the page indicated on the cover to see the ‘full story.’ It feels like a punch to the gut.

‘Metal Heartthrob Eddie Munson was seen leaving a restaurant in New York City with an unknown woman. How could she get his attention, I’m sure you’re wondering. We’d love to know, too. Is Munson the type to settle for a normie? Or is she only a fling? The second option would make the most sense, we think. Keep reading to learn why she doesn’t fit.’

You slam the paper shut, setting it back on the shelf and standing there like an idiot, your hands shaking a little, your heart in your throat.

“Can you believe it?” A woman says to you, pointing at the damn picture. “He could do way better. I’m just saying.”

“Oh. Yeah,” you offer weakly, walking away and finding a seat at your gate.

It stings when you know you shouldn’t let it get to you, but it’s like every insecurity you’ve had has been splashed onto a page for everyone to see. You don’t belong in his world anymore, you aren’t enough to be in it, he doesn’t want you that way.

It’s a disgusting spiral that eats at you as you sit and wait, as you board your flight, even as you find your seat next to a man who’s already asleep. You can't believe the things people feel okay saying about someone else, and even worse, you can’t believe how they wedge themselves under your skin.

You wrap your arms around yourself, peering out the window and trying to convince yourself that whoever wrote it is wrong, that the woman in the store was wrong. But all your mind can conjure is reasons why they’re right.

You aren’t a model, or an actress, or anything of the sort like the other women Eddie’s dated since becoming the star he is. You never will be.

Worst of all, these last few days you really thought he could feel the way you do, even a fraction of it. You thought that he buried feelings he couldn’t say into that kiss, that maybe, maybe he could be in love with you, even just a little bit.

Now, you feel like an idiot for ever letting yourself think that could be true, your eyes blurring with tears of frustration and a hurt that shouldn’t even be there, but cuts deep.

You’re just friends, it’s always been that way. It’s your own damn fault, really, for falling in love with him. Falling in love with the best boy you’ve ever known, with your best friend, with the only person who makes you feel the way he does.

It’s your fault that you let a tear slip down the slope of your cheek as your plane takes off. You wipe it away quickly.

Eddie feels strange as he lays back onto his hotel bed after dropping you off. There’s a cold present in his room now. The evident and devastating lack of your presence, like the chill that washes over a summer day when the sun is swallowed by a gray cloud.

He already wants to call you, but you’re miles in the air by now.

He really should’ve kissed you goodbye.

-

Eddie ends up calling two days after you get home. He wanted to do it sooner, but the whirlwind got to him, and after a week in one place, it was back on the road. He got caught up, but he has the time now, and he’s been eager to use it.

Your number is practically muscle memory by now, dialed without a second thought. He listens to the ringing, fingers pulling at the threads in the rip of his jeans as he waits sitting on his bed. He counts the seconds until you pick up.

Back in Hawkins, it was hard to believe that only a couple of days ago you were in New York City with Eddie, watching him play, having dinner with him, kissing him. Being home, it feels like the whole trip had been a dream.

You fell into your life here quickly, a full day shift at the library, a visit there from Dustin with a stack of overdue books and questions of how Eddie’s doing.

It’s impossible not to think about him, still. So of course you’d pick up the phone on the chance it’d be his voice on the other end.

“Hello?”

Eddie’s head thumps back against the headboard when he hears your voice, “hey, trouble.”

“Eddie.” You were hoping it was him, yet you’re still a little surprised. You shouldn’t be, he’s been calling often for a while now, but you’ve been feeling nervous ever since reading that stupid article. Insecure, stupid, a whole bunch of negatives that won’t leave you alone. But he’s calling, so you try not to think of that. “How are you?”

“Good! I’m good.” He shuts his eyes, tries to picture what you might look like right now. He doesn’t think his mind could ever do you enough justice. “Jeff totally ate shit during soundcheck today, you would’ve loved it. You’re good?”

“It’s kind of weird being back here.” You say, your honesty spilling the way it does over the phone. You’re braver this way. “But I saw Dustin today. He asked about you.”

“Yeah?” The grin on Eddie’s face is immediate, your voice soft and somehow exactly what he needed. “Did you tell him I’m still the coolest guy ever?”

“Sure,” you drag out the word.

“Whatever. I totally am.” There’s a lull for a second, the sound of sheets ruffling on his end as he shifts on the bed. “You said it was weird being back?”

It’s hard to read his tone through a phone, but he sounds sincere as ever, his voice softer when he says it. You shift a little, too.

“A little. Just getting back into things, you know?” You’re on your back now, eyes fixed on a spot on your ceiling. “New York is a lot different than Hawkins.”

Eddie’s not sure what makes him think it—your voice going quiet, the way it takes you a little longer to answer—but he can tell that something’s off. You sound sad, and there’s a twinge in his chest at the thought of you upset. You’re undeserving of it, and he’s got the urge to break the rules of the universe and jump through the phone to be there for you.

“Yeah, it is. You okay, honey?”

The question strikes you. You hadn’t known that you’d been acting any differently, but you suppose that’s how it goes. You can only hide so much, and those words splashed on a page about you have weighed heavy on your mind since you’d seen them.

But you can’t bring yourself to tell Eddie any of it. What if he hasn’t seen it? Worse, what if he has and he doesn’t want to bring it up because he agrees?

So, you come up with a lazy excuse, “oh. I’m okay, Eddie. Just a long shift today.”

“You sure?” Even though he can’t see you right now, there’s something in him telling him you aren’t being honest. It’s like he’s got a sense for these things when it comes to you, embedded in his heart the way you are.

“I’m sure. I’m just tired.”

He knows that there’s something else to it, but he won’t pry. All he wants to do is help, so he lets himself say what he’s been thinking since you’ve left. “Is it pathetic that I already miss you?”

A smile flickers on your face.

“If it is, I’m pathetic, too.”

“At least we’re in it together, then.”

After you eventually hang up, Eddie can’t fight off the feeling that something's happened. He’s gotta figure it out, he wants to fix it, to pull away any pain you might be feeling. He’d take it for himself if he could.

So, although he’ll get endless shit for it, he finds Gareth and Jeff watching TV in the living room of their suite and figures he might as well ask them.

“Hey,” he starts, standing in front of the TV despite their groans to make sure they’ll listen. “Did either of you say something to her? About… um, you know.”

The way that he doesn’t even have to speak your name for them to know who he’s talking about says enough about the ‘you know.’ He’s slightly worried that they’d told you how he felt about you and it scared you off. He really, really hopes that isn’t it.

“About you being grossly in love with her?” Gareth checks, though he surely didn’t need to.

“Yes, asshole.”

“Nope. I didn’t. Jeff?”

“No, man.” Jeff huffs, “and you’re blocking the TV.”

“I know! I need you guys to help me out.” Eddie starts pacing in front of the TV. He explains your phone call, how he felt like something was wrong, that you were upset. They both listen, though Jeff occasionally tries to lean around to see the screen. “So? What do you think?”

“Maybe it has to do with that article,” Gareth says.

“What article?”

“You know, the one with that picture of you two leaving that restaurant.”

“There’s a fucking article about that?” Eddie twists his ring around his thumb. Shit.

“Oh, yeah,” Jeff points towards the small table near the entryway of the room, “it’s over there. Kinda brutal.”

“You idiots didn’t think to tell me?”

“Um, it’s pretty popular, actually.” Gareth shrugs. “Thought you would’ve seen it by now.”

“How are we idiots for helping you?” Jeff asks.

Eddie flips him off over his shoulder as he goes into his room, shutting the door behind him. He’s still pacing, flipping the pages to find the right one. His stomach sinks when he lands on it and skims the words written.

‘Is Munson the type to settle for a normie?’

He makes an actual sound when he reads it. Something of disbelief and shock. He knew that having the life he does comes with these things, and he’s learned to deal with them when it comes to comments about himself. But you? No fucking way.

If he was ever lucky enough to have you, he wouldn’t be settling, he’d be the happiest he could ever be, probably. Maybe it’s time he finds out.

If you’d read any of this, if you believed it, he can’t help but feel at fault. Sure, he didn’t write it, he didn’t publish it, but he brought you to that restaurant and he’s the reason that paparazzi was there. If there’s anything he can do to fix this, he will.

So, he makes a plan. He calls his manager and gets himself a spot on the next flight out to Indianapolis. He can miss a studio session or an interview, it doesn’t matter.

This is far more important. You’re more important.

-

Eddie doesn’t pack anything for the flight. He doesn’t have the time nor the concern to do it. He’s got the beanie on his head, sunglasses over his eyes, and a hoodie pulled over it all.

He doesn’t take the time to get a driver, so he takes a cab back to Hawkins once he lands in Indianapolis. It’s already dark out, probably way too late to head straight to your place but he does it anyway. No time to waste.

Slamming the cab door, he tells the driver your address and tells him to drive quickly. He gets a thumbs up in return and that’s it. Eddie’s forced to sit there, his leg bouncing anxiously as he waits impatiently to get to you.

He should be tired, should be fighting heavy eyelids and yawns, but he isn’t. Eddie’s determined and nervous, eager to get to you and agonizing over whether or not this is the right move.

But, he’s made his choice. He’ll stand by it. There’s no denying the way he feels, and he’d do anything to make you feel okay.

Eddie spends the drive trying to figure out what he’ll say to you. His thoughts are a mess of speeches and phrases that just don’t sound right. He doesn’t think there’s a way with words that really conveys the extent of his affections, but he’s going to try. He figures a four letter word is a good place to start.

His palms are sweaty as the cab pulls up to your place, your apartment in a building that’s been converted from its original use. Eddie grabs cash from his wallet and hands it to his driver, telling him to keep the change.

He stands there and stares for a minute, taking off his hat and sunglasses now that he’s on a quiet, deserted street. He’s got no idea what time it is, no idea whether he’ll be waking you up or not, but he huffs and heads to your door, lucky that he can access it from outside.

With his fist raised, Eddie takes as big a breath as he can muster, and knocks on the door.

You were having a hard time sleeping, tossing around uncomfortably until you gave up and grabbed the book from your nightstand. You’d been mid-chapter when you heard the knocking, almost convinced you’d imagined the sound.

And then it comes again, four quick taps on your door. You don’t have a single guess for who it could be, but you set your book face down and kick your blankets off, turning on your light on your way to the door and squinting at the brightness.

You’re not sure what exactly you were expecting to find on the other side of the door, but it wasn’t this. Wasn’t him.

“Eddie? What the hell are you doing here?”

He takes a second to look you over, his hands stuffed in his hoodie’s pocket. You’re wearing a pair of floral pajama shorts, ruffled at the hem, and your fucking Corroded Coffin t-shirt. Yeah, he made the right choice coming here.

He avoids your question. “Can I come in?”

“Oh! Yeah, sorry.” You open the door further and step aside, closing it after he steps inside. “Aren’t you supposed to be on tour?”

“I needed to see you.”

Needed to. Like it’s bigger than a want.

“Is everything okay?” You ask, leaning against your door. Eddie’s not far, only a step away from you.

“That article was bullshit.”

“What?”

He takes the step, his feet toe to toe with yours now. You’re forced to tilt your head up due to his proximity, his eyes unwavering and still, the way they always are, soft. You fiddle with your hands behind your back.

“That article about us, it was total bullshit.”

“I don’t-”

“I know you saw it, and it was wrong. You aren’t a fling to me, you aren’t a fucking normie. You’re my favorite person in the entire world.”

Eddie’s found, now that he’s started, he can’t stop pouring things out. He pushes your hair from your face, trails his hand lightly down your arm until he’s tugging yours from behind your back, weaving his fingers between yours.

“My favorite, okay?” He continues, his stare flicking between your eyes, like he’s making sure you believe him. “Whoever wrote that is a shithead and I don’t believe any of it. None, honey. I’m sorry that I put you in that position, you didn’t deserve it. But it’s bullshit.”

You can feel your heartbeat pounding in your chest, your fingers squeezing around Eddie’s as he speaks like you’re making sure he’s real. That he’s here and he’s saying these things and he’s looking at you the way he did before he kissed you.

“You-” you clear your throat, voice weak at first from his words. “You came all the way here to tell me that?”

His free hand tugs at the neckline of his hoodie, his gaze flicking down to your hands and then back to your face. “Yes.” There’s the lightest blush to his cheeks, “among other things.”

“Other things?”

You don’t want to guess, shouldn’t let yourself get your hopes up and up and up. But your mind does it on its own accord. What if he-

“I love you,” he rushes it out in a breath, but you hear it all the same. “I’m in love with you, trouble.”

“You are?”

Your eyes are wide, your hand tight around his, and Eddie smiles because he can’t help it. He made the right choice.

“I’m in love with you,” he says again. “I have been for a long time, I think. I only figured it out a bit ago, but it doesn’t feel new.”

“Me too, Eddie.” You barely register your own words, your grin spreading wide or the way you laugh in disbelief. Finally. “I love you, too. For a long time. But I knew it.”

His heart squeezes. He wonders how long, how hard it must’ve been for you to keep it inside while he took forever like an idiot to register his own feelings. But he’s got you now, and that’s more than enough.

“Well, you’ve always been smarter than me.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

And then his free hand is cupping your jaw, his nose nudging yours. “Shut up.”

He kisses you then, broken by your smiles but the best one yet. Because it’s out there: you love each other. It isn’t a question of whether or not, it’s a certainty. You’re in love and you can have this. You have this.

Your hand that isn’t clasped in his holds the back of his neck lightly, your fingers tangled in his curls, keeping him close.

Eddie doesn’t go far when he pulls away, his forehead tilted against yours, his hand still on your face. The corners of his eyes crinkle from his smile, and you can’t help but kiss him again. A peck, another, and another.

“I’ve got like 36 hours. Think I could stay?”

You nod, your smile mirroring his. Lovesick, totally stupidly happy.

“Yeah?” Eddie swings your joined hands lightly. You nod again. “Good. I would’ve had to walk back to the trailer if not. I probably would’ve died.”

“Always dramatic, Munson.”

“But you love me anyways.”

“Guess I do.” Your fingers gently tug at tangles in his hair. “You’re sure about this? Even with the distance?”

Eddie lifts his forehead from yours to make sure you can see his face fully. His thumb smoothes over your cheekbone.

“I’ve never been more sure. Ever.” And he hasn’t, not even when he knew he wanted to do music forever. Because he’d give it up for you if he had to, though he knows you’d never ask him to. “I’ll call you so much you’ll get sick of me. And you can come with me when you have time, and I’ll come home when I have time. I want this so much, okay? So much.”

“I do, too.” You look at your hands, thinking about how you’d always thought they were meant to be holding one another. “You’re okay with dating a normie?”

“Fuck that.” His hand on your face tilts it just a little, urging your sight onto his. “You’re my trouble. Nothing else matters.”

My trouble.

“And you’d really come back to Hawkins more for me?”

“I’m going to.” Eddie understands why you’re asking. In the past, he’s gone quiet, he’s gotten caught up, but after tonight? He’s never gonna hear the end of it from the band, that’s for sure. “You’ll totally get sick of me, you’ll see.”

“Don’t think that’s possible.” You look at his face, the eyes you could never forget, the dusting of stubble across his jawline. A face that’s been on TV and countless magazines, albums and posters. “I always thought you outgrew this town.”

“I never outgrew you.”

You know there’s more to figure out, more worries to be had, but you’re in love and you can say it. That’s what’s important now, that’s what you’ll enjoy.

The shoebox that sits in your closet has served you well, but you won’t need to pick at the scraps anymore. Won’t need to hold onto this boy through magazines and newspapers.

My trouble.

When you kiss again, you’re sure that you’ll never want to be anything else.

♫♩♪♬

hi!! thanks so so much for reading these two <3 i’ve had so much fun with rockstar!eddie and i hope u guys did too!!! if you did, a reblog would mean so much <3

i don’t usually do tag lists, and i probably won’t again after this, but the demand was high for this one (like, crazy! thank u so much!) so here’s the rockstar!eddie tag list

@5sosjay @paleidiot @emma77645 @onceuponathreetwoone @copycatkillerfics @munsonmecrazy @r-a-d-i-0-n-0-w-h-e-r-e @lbhmoon @icant-hangout-imdrumming @freakymunson @blackcatwoman @l3xiluve @littlestarfighter03 @yujyujj @totally-bogus-timelady @kimmi-kat @spitefulscreenwriter @amira0303 @mylovelycrazyworld @esme-viridian @pippipsquirtsquirt @brassreign @madneedshelp @emilyslutface @alana4610 @crystalr @kirisuteg0men @hesvoid34 @cutiecusp @nerium21 @angel-ann-pops

[hotluncheddie]

omg it's been said before but your autistic Steve series is so good so life affirming so precious to me..... and so I would like to share my own thoughts on the matter...... Steve who did sports bc he had so much excess energy!! and now he gets the zoomies all the time and needs NEEDS to get outside and run around when the weather is nice...... Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask and Robin who says she likes him better without it!!!!.... Steve hyperfixations (feat Steve who reads and frequents the library my beloved, he's so casually curious it just makes sense with his characterization I think)...... Steve full body stimming with Eddie or Robin and feeling amazing!!!!!...... Steve who has set up his space Exactly The Way He Likes It.....

love and light to you ♥️💋🥞🏄🏻

lovely 2jug2head!!! hello!!! ur so sweet!!!

but autistic steve!!! my love!! my guy!!! yesssss!!!! these are all so good! so sweet and lovely and perfect!!! ty for sending me this!!!

(sorry this reply took a little to get too, i've been on my freak shit but finally got few ideas down for u <3)

i think steve would take time learning what stimming and being overstimulated and understimulated means. i think after the upside-down especially, but a lot before that too, he got too used to detaching, kind of separating from his body in order to survive. so now, sometimes, he gets these itches and urges and weird feelings and he just doesn’t know what to do about it. [and i think sport definitely helped him in the past, but i dunno if he would make that connection right away.]

but, he watches robin flap her arms with her sweater sleeves covering her hands. and watches eddie get fucking breathless head banging to a song. he sees robin skip to his car at the end of a shift, looking up at the sky and letting out a 'AHH!' with so so much feeling, cheeks flushed and eyes bright that the day is done, getting in and fiddling with the radio like it’s no big deal. he watches eddie jiggle his leg and bite his rings and stand up and pace when he's talking about something he loves. and steve tries them.

he tries all of them.

he fists his hands and shakes them until something dislodges in his chest, till he can finally take a full breath. he sings loudly along to bruce springsteen and wham in his car in the mornings, sometimes not ever really singing, just making noise. he jumps around his room with robin when she plays blondie, he asks eddie to show him how to head bang, tries it and laughs and kisses him breathless when the song ends. he gives robin his keys and takes off running in a lap around the building after work, sometimes near sprinting, sometimes circling five, six times, going till he's panting and the faces of all the people he had to see that day are washed away, until he can't feel the plastic on his fingers, can't smell the bleach or the too much cologne some guy used. until he's reset, until he's him again, not theirs, not who anyone wants him to be. until he feels good again, lets himself feel good.

sometimes, now, he jiggles his leg the same way eddie does, at the same time, until robin says she has to move 'feel fuckin' seasick over here with you two goblins.' and eddie just laughs. and steve can curl up into his side, if he wants, can pick up eddies hand and bite his rings if he feels like it, eddie would let him, maybe call him cute, wouldn't judge him. neither of them would, if he did that, if he did more. they would never, and its so nice.

<3

["Steve who thinks he's unforgivably strange and unlovable without his perfectly crafted mask" ;-; that's my fcuking GUY. he would and its so :(( !!!! ]

but yeah, robin would hate that fake plastic smile he puts on to mask sometimes. and she'd tell him, with so much love. 'stop it. show me you.' because she just wants to be with steve.

but she’s so wonderful, he just, she gets it. sometimes things that he didn’t even know were bothering him will build and he’ll snap and rant and moan to finally get it all out. lungs heaving as he empties everything out before her. but she’ll just look at it, and seem to place it all in a way that makes sense, a way that’s small and fits in his pocket. she’ll say ‘woah yeah, that seems like a lot / would be stressful / i’m not surprised you're overwhelmed’ and it’s just. it’s so simple. he’s seen, he’s listened too and validated. it still makes him pause, in stunned silence, and it’s like there’s a plaster placed on his heart with every instance that it happens. sometimes it seems to strike such a chord it's like it's hitting a deep wound that he buried inside, a scab finally healing and falling away. sometimes it makes him sob in her arms, overwhelmed and amazed and so so moved by this person he's met, this wonderful angelic creature that he gets to call his.

the next time he has his super masked, customer service face on when its just the two of them, she threatens to bite him. and steve smiles for real, laughs, feels another plaster sticking over the others.

<3

and steve library frequenter yes yes!! i agree that he is curious and practical and i think a hands on kind of guy! so i think he goes to the library and gets books about cars. i think he likes learning about how to fix his, trying to understand what could go wrong, how it happens, what you do in different scenarios. i think that's something him and eddie and wayne bond over, helping to fix their cars. steve and eddie even work together to do up wayne's van a little, getting it a new bumper and a couple parts scavenged at the junkyard. it's fun for him to work out what's missing, what’s changed, how and why and then putting it into practice. taking something apart and putting it back together. makes him feel proud of himself, something he really doesn't feel often. makes his brain zone in and flow and focus for a couple hours and it just feels so nice, its a happy time for him.

also, speaking of special interests - ✨sport stats✨. steve can name the players of all the basketball teams currently playing professionally, likes watching the tactics shows that come on before and after the games. likes talking at eddie and explaining why its actually really cool that they swapped out that player to give this new guy a chance, he's big news, a young up and comer and has a really interesting play style, its gonna work well with how their current manger organises the court. and eddie just smiles at him, squeezing steves hand in his lap and trying to understand what he sees on screen, follow along (he struggles to take in all the information, it's just not his thing. but it makes him so happy when he watches steve watch.) and steves happy little keens when something interesting happens, mindlessly fiddling with eddie’s fingers and tapping his other hands fingers against his knee, 1, 2, 3, 2, 4, 2. relaxed and focused and sometimes he rocks when it gets really tense and eddies heart bursts.

because it wasn't always like that, it was a struggle and a near pleading for eddie to just get steve to tell him what he likes, talk to him, get to know him. to just let eddie in. because eddie wanted to know everything and steve just didn't know how to deal with that. why would eddie care? no one ever listens to him. he's embarrassing and annoying and gets to loud and eddie doesn't like sports so why would steve tell him anything? it took soft words and gentle encouragement and reassurance again and again that he's listening, he wants to listen, wants to know. 'always, always wanna listen to what you have to say stevie.' so when steve comes over to the trailer after work, talking about the latest switch they announced in the paper, how last nights points shifted the league around and now he doesn't even know who's going to win, isn't that cool? eddie fucking beams because this is his boy. his bright, beautiful, exited baby and he’s talking to eddie, he's letting eddie see him.

<3

steve and his space though. thinking very much about that. he doesn’t have the strictest schedule, he’s learning that sometimes its okay to leave the sheets for another couple days, that the dust can settle for another week before he needs to wipe it away. but some things are just, they just have to be right. he needs to know where things are, needs the important stuff in the same place every day so he doesn't forget. needs his products in the bathroom out and in order so he can keep track of when something needs replacing, so he's not left without something he needs. wants this one specific pillow at night, and one for between his knees and a duvet on year round, needs it to feel warm and safe and right in his bed.

and his clothes, its not even about the sensory stuff for him, like yeah most of his tops are soft, his jeans pretty worn in. he has some really old sweatshirts that are special, that come out on the worst days. but it's also about how clothes look, how they make him feel. he want his jeans to fit right, sit right on his shoes. wants his shirts to make his shoulders look nice, make him feel comfortable and confident and like a normal fucking person who can exist in the world. its another part of the mask, maybe. but it works and its his and most of the time he thinks he looks good. and that's okay. he's learning and its healthy and its practical and it helps.

but he also adores wearing eddies t-shirts. when he's at home all day or to sleep at night. especially if eddies not there, when steve misses him, when he wants him. steve wears eddies t-shirts to bed. they're all ones eddies left after staying, they're old and soft and the tags have been cut out and they smell like eddie. like his eddie. like he's there. steve loves it, wraps himself up in it, helps him feel soothed and taken care of even if he's alone, maybe its a little sad, makes him feel embarrassed, too much. but he's learning not to care.

sometimes eddie talks to him and touches him in a certain special way that makes steve feel so so foggy and taken care of and amazing. so, if eddie's not there but he craves that foggy feeling, steve wears eddies t-shirts and he speaks to himself like eddie would and he makes himself dinner and looks after himself and tucks himself into bed and rubs the fabric of the collar against his nose. and tries not to feel embarrassed if he needs more, if he has to suck on his fingers/thumb for a while, clutching the fabric in his hand. tries to let himself whimper or even cry a little if he needs, at how nice it feels, how gooey and needy he can allow himself to get. accept it as part of himself, that eddie likes it, still likes him, still loves him. just something he needs sometimes. and steve falls asleep, wearing eddies t-shirt.

<3

gonna tag a few people who might want to see, hope that's okay? wanna spread him around and show him off!! look at him!!! our best guy!!!

@pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @spectrum-spectre @just-a-tiny-void @steventhusiast @cherrychapsticksteve @lil-gremlin-things @finntheehumaneater @irethsune

[hollowbutcanlove]

The language of the flowers Pt. 2

warning: the hard moment with the Cypher.

Sova - rose red (bud) - confusion; "I think I've fallen in love with you," "I'm glad we met," "Every day my feelings for you grow stronger."

On the spacious streets of St. Petersburg, you and Sova decided to spend your little vacation. After visiting many memorable places, you decided that it was time for a little rest on one of the shores of the Gulf of Finland. He left you alone for a while, saying he needed to get something to eat.

The cool breeze ruffled your hair, making you wrap yourself tighter in your sweater. Growing up in a warm climate, you weren't used to the fickle weather of Sova's homeland. Suddenly, something that isn't a human hand touches your head, causing you to throw it back. You see a bunch of red buds that cover almost everything above you. The bouquet moves back a little and you see Sova's satisfied face.

"These are for you. In Russia, it's considered that giving fancy bouquets to your beloved is the basis of a strong relationship." He chuckles. "In fact, some men give a single rose in cellophane, which our women consider an insult."

"Then it could be considered a very very big compliment." You run your finger over the scarlet petals. "How many are there, anyway?"

"One hundred and one roses."

"One hundred and one?" - you take the bouquet into your hands admiringly, then give a light kiss on Sova's cheek. He sits down next to you.

"You deserve all the flowers in the world, but it remains to be seen - which ones specifically should you give? Peonies, perhaps? Or lilies?"

"Any flowers from you would be my favorite."

Cypher - yellow carnation - rejection; "You're avoiding me"; "You've disappointed me"

It was hard to tell when your communication with Cypher had gotten to the point where it was hard to tell if you were friends or lovers. It was even harder for you to understand why he was pulling away and running away, like a kitten who'd tried to confide in people but had gotten scared again and fled into the darkness of the street. He was either not in his office or the door was locked. He didn't answer messages or calls. But you knew he was watching you. Every move you made. But what was he feeling in that moment, doing all those things? You didn't know.

"Cypher, why don't you open up finally? I know you're in there." - You've been trying for the second week to get through to the masked man who's been so diligently avoiding you. "Please, we need to talk."

There was only silence in response.

"Shit... "You slump down next to the door, hugging your knees. "You should know how disappointing you're making me feel right now. I thought there was something between us...Or at least there was. And you're doing this..."

"You didn't know he had a wife and child?" the sudden voice of Viper shakes you out of your trance.

"A wife and child...?" you look at the woman, who at that moment was looking at you with a kind of sympathy, with incomprehension.

"Don't kid yourself, girl. He's still pining for them, and you...you just got caught up in the moment. Forget it and move on." She wanted to support you in some way, but it didn't come out well.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, tears starting to well up in your eyes. Just a substitute? An attempt to dull the pain of longing?

"Argh... Come on, I'll give you a job to distract you."

Gekko - anemone - sincerity, hope, joy, emotionality; parting, fragility; "Why not?", "I feel really good with you", "Let's have a party?"

The beautiful scenery opens up from the Venice rising in the air, where one of the training grounds is located. You and Gekko watch the sunset while the other agents finish their training. The green-haired guy's creatures were snoring somewhere nearby, exhausted from the training.

"Hey, guess what?"

"What?"

"What if I offer you to be my girlfriend? Would you say yes?"

"Why not?"

"So you'd say yes?"

"Yes."

"Say it again."

"Yes, I agree, Gekko."

A bright smile appeared on the guy's face before he gently took your hand, brought it to his lips and kissed it. You giggled and tilted your head to the side. Such small and happy moments were rare in the hard life of a protocol agent, but nevertheless you tried to cherish them and live them as long as possible.

[fruitywritter]

Two Hearts • | Part 1 |

Part 2

Summary: Things have been rough lately, Christmas are getting closer and you find yourself on top of the astronomy’s tower to clear your head. But who knew that this night you would meet someone so special to you.

Pairing: Hermione Granger x gn!reader

Tw: depression? Fluff

Words: 2.2k

A/n: Last post for the 2023 year, this one was in my drafts and I was planning to write more. I guess now it’s going to be more parts (?) If you guys like it (:

It was late, past midnight for sure. You couldn’t sleep, you weren’t even tired. You just laid there in your bed facing the ceiling. You always had that problem, not being able to sleep, but tonight your insomnia was worse than usual. Also your depressing thoughts didn’t help that much tonight. You would usually read a book or talk with your roommates until you felt tired but this time you knew it wouldn’t work. It was already late and everybody was sleeping. So you decided to do the one thing that you were sure it would work. Going on a walk around the castle.

Even though you didn’t do that very often, you always enjoyed it. Walking through the dark halls of the castle was something comforting to you, it made you feel free and relaxed. Your favourite place was the astronomy tower. Other people would think that it was crazy, walking around all alone in the darkness. But to you, it was comforting, it was the only time of the day that you were really alone. It was the only time where you could think clearly and be alone with your thoughts.

You put on your shoes quickly, grabbing your wand and sweater on the way to the door. Before you exited you pulled the cloth on and took one last glance behind you at your sleeping roommates. You walked quickly through the common room and outside in the hallway. It was kind of chilly out and you were thankful that you took your sweater with you. It was near Christmas days and probably in a few days snow would cover all over the place. Winter was your favourite season, you loved snow and you loved cold weather.

Climbing the stairs to the astronomy’s tower you couldn’t help but think about the holidays. Almost everyone would go back to their families to celebrate, but you. It’s not like you had anyone to go back to. Your friends had already planned going home so you were the only one staying at Hogwarts.

When you finally reached the top of the tower you started walking towards the railing. You looked down at the lake and mountains taking in the view. A soft cough made you turn back, taking in a sight of another person sitting at the steps. How did you not notice that there was already someone there. But then again, nobody usually came there, especially at this late hour. You started walking closer, trying to see who was there, only to be met with a pair of brown eyes. The moonlight shined through them, making them glow. “I’m sorry I didn’t know that there was someone already there..” You apologised to the girl in front of you. She had a book sitting on her lap and her wand on her right hand.

“It’s alright, not many people come here so I was also kind of shocked when I saw you walk up the stairs.” You heard her voice, it was soft and gentle. She had a beautiful voice, an angelic one. You stood there in front of the girl, not knowing what to say as you were at a loss of words. Usually that didn’t happen, but there was something about that girl, it made you nervous. You never really interacted with her, sure you’d hear her talking while in class as you two shared a few classes together, such as potions and charms. But you never introduced yourselves to each other. You realised you hadn’t said anything so you cleared your throat and let a small smile.

“That’s true. I was also shocked to find you up here, I don’t come here often, only when I need some quiet, you know?” You said, beginning to walk towards her. You took a seat beside her, not too far but not too close, you didn’t want to make her uncomfortable.

“Trust me, I know. I come here for the same reason, this place has something unique. I like to read books here, other days I just sit and watch the stars on the sky.” She spoke so quietly, closing her book and slightly turning her body towards you, “I believe we’ve never got to introduce ourselves, I’m Hermione Granger.” She smiled and extended her hand for you to shake.

You happily took it with yours, “That’s a lovely name. I’m Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n.” You nodded with a little smile, of course you knew her last name. You had heard countless times the professors calling her “Miss Granger”. But you’ve never got to know her first name until now and you couldn’t help yourself but to compliment her. Not going to lie, you always had a little crush on her deep down. Even though you’ve never spoke to her, every time she was in the same room you eyes would always find her.

But you never had the courage to go and actually talk to her, you were that much of a coward. You also couldn’t talk about her to your Slytherin friends, since they would probably curse you about her being a Gryffindor and a “mudblood”. You didn’t like that word, it was really offending. As a Slytherin, many would thought that you would be the classic stereotype. You were a pure blood, but you didn’t have any problems with muggleborns. You actually had many friends from other houses that were muggleborns.

You watched as Hermione slightly blushed and tried to hide it. Pulling a strand behind her ear, she smiled. “Y/n, it sounds unique.” At that you let out a laugh, “Oh believe me, it’s not that unique. My parents gave it to me after they read it on a book.. My dad was like a bookworm back in the day as he had told me, I bet he didn’t have to try hard to find a name for his child.” You chuckled, thinking about him was sad. It all happened so fast that you still hadn’t got used to it even after all these years.“I like it.” Hermione giggled as it was time for you to blush. Wow taking a compliment from Hermione was the best feeling.

“So, what were you reading?” You asked, moving closer to her to take a look from the cover of her book.

“Oh that? It’s nothing, just a stupid book I bought last summer. I didn’t get to finish it, I usually only read school books. But I can’t deny it, it’s really good.” She spoke, taking the book in her hands and showing you the familiar cover.

“So you’re like a little bookworm? I already knew that you’re a great student but reading school books only?” You teased her, “that’s a great book by the way, I read it once. The end had me crying for two days, but I won’t be spoiling you anything else.” You added with a chuckle as you playfully bumped your shoulder with hers.

“I’m not a bookworm, I just like reading books and studying. But it’s not like I have my head inside a book the whole time..” She said, trying to act offended but you could she the small smirk on her lips. You muttered a “yeah right.”and she smacked you playfully on your shoulder making you two laugh. After you calmed down she spoke again, “So what made you come up here? You said you needed quiet.” Hermione asked, looking up to your eyes.

“Oh you know, just life..” You sighed, turning away not really knowing what to say. “I couldn’t sleep. Lately I’ve been thinking a lot, I have so many things on my mind and it’s getting kind of crowded in there. So I tend to escape from all of this, even if it is for a bit.”

Thoughts of your dead father and your alcoholic mother who got herself lost came into your mind without your consent. Thinking about the things you could do to avoid all of these shit to happen. You came up here to escape from all of these but here you are now thinking about it.

A soft hand on your shoulder brought you back to the present as you turned on your right, looking at those brown eyes. “I get that, I know it hurts not being able to escape from your thoughts. But if you ever want to talk to somebody, just know that I’m here and I’d love to hear you.” She smiled comforting at you. There was something about her, you couldn’t exactly catch on it but it felt familiar. You found comfort around her.

“Thank you, Hermione.” You tried your best to smile and leaned back against the wall behind you.

“I have to say, I’m surprised..” She spoke suddenly after a few minutes of silence. You turned to look at her, your face full of curiosity. “You’re nice to me, even though you’re a Slytherin and I’m a Gryffindor, our houses hate each other, and here you are being nice towards me.”

“Not all Slytherins are bad, Hermione.. I mean sure, there is a small hate between our houses but I don’t really care about all of these. Those stereotypes about the Slytherins being evil is an absolute lie in my opinion. It’s just the human character.” You sighed, you never hated Gryffindors. It was the opposite actually, you respected them. They were brave and loyal, well the most of them at least.

“Yes I know, I’m sorry I didn’t want it to come out mean. I just thought that you might be like the others. You know, Malfoy, Parkinson and the others. They usually like to call us names and I’m pretty sure they really, really hate us.” Hermione explained.

I nodded in understatement, “Yeah, they like to uh, bully people..” You and Draco were friends the first year, but eventually when you saw how he treated others you confronted him. Nothing changed so you decided to leave, you didn’t support him for that. He would have been a great person if he wasn’t that much of a jerk and a bully. You also almost punched him when you heard him calling Hermione a “mudblood”, Potter was quicker than you as he casted a spell throwing him on the wall behind him. That happened last year but it still made you angry as you imagined how many times Malfoy had bullied the girl beside you. “Hey, I’m sorry for that. They’re jerks for doing that.”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to apologise for them. I’m used to it by now.” She said trying to smile but you knew that she pretended to be okay with it. It pained you seeing her like that. You scooted closer, placing your arm around her shoulders and pulling her towards you.

“Got any plans for Christmas holidays?” You asked, trying to change the subject. You started running your thumb over her arm, waiting for her to talk.

“Not really, I’ll just stay here this year. Harry and Ron also decided to stay so we will spent the holidays together.” She mumbled as her head laid on your torso. Hermione liked your touch, it was comforting and warm. “What about you?” She added, looking up to you with those eyes.

“Well, I love spending Christmas at Hogwarts, it’s really beautiful here and peaceful when almost half the school isn’t here..” You chuckled, it wasn’t really a lie. It was just one of the reasons why you stayed. The other one being because even if you went home, there would be no one there. So you preferred not being alone in a house that brought you so much memories.

“Oh well, we can spend it together then!” Hermione said with an excited voice, “if you haven’t already planned with your friends, of course..” She added, feeling a bit of nervousness. What if you didn’t want to?

“Yeah, sure. I’d love to spent it with you. All of my friends will be going home anyways so I wasn’t planning anything.” You said, your voice also expressed excitement as you looked down at Hermione.

She smiled and blushed, probably you did too. You stayed like this for longer, just enjoying the company of one other. Eventually you had to go back to sleep so you two began walking back to your dorms. You offered to walk Hermione to her common room, after her denying it and you saying that you’d love to. You found yourselves making a small talk while walking the nearly dark hallways. Eventually you stopped outside of the fat lady’s portrait, you turned to Hermione who stood there looking at you.

“I had a great night, Hermione. Thank you.” You smiled, watching the brown eyed girl smile back at you.

“No, thank you. I liked your company, you’re really not that boring..” She teased you and you laughed quietly at that.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” You asked with a hopeful voice.

“Definitely.” She confirmed.

“Good night, Hermione.”

“Good night, Y/n.” You watched as she turned around and said the password to the portrait. She then got inside and turned one last time, giving you a smile before she disappeared inside the tunnel. With that you turned and left with a grin on your face. You were tired but you couldn’t stop thinking about her. The moment your head hit the bed you fell immediately asleep, having dreams about that beautiful girl you met today at the astronomy tower.

[mikrokcsmos]

Sweater Weather

pairing; jungkook x f!reader

genre; fluff

rating; PG-13

warnings; cursing, bad weather, bad friends, and just a kind koo

w/c; 1,684

a/n; just a cute lil something for my bias (if you haven’t guessed it already). like + reblog if you enjoyed. feedback is always appreciated and helps motivate this writer. feel free to send in your own requests. this is a repost from my old account.

this is part one, read part two here.

You should’ve learned by now to never trust what the weather man tells you.

“Today is going to be at a high of 88, nothing but sunny weather today, folks! Wear sunscreen!”

Yeah, bullshit.

You inwardly cursed at yourself for being so naive. Especially now that you were walking alone, at night, in the rain, wearing nothing but a cute white dress you found the other day, thinking that today would be a perfect day to debut it for the first time.

With pursed lips, and hair matted to your face, you tightened your arms around your chest as you tried your best to cover up the see through material. Looks like you were SOL when it came to people viewing your underwear, but there’s not much you can do about it now. You only hoped there wasn’t some pervert you would run across tonight. Scowl on your face, the only thing you were thankful for was wearing your chunky, white boots that are able to withstand the rain and various deep puddles you had to walk through to get to your end destination — the bus stop.

*******

Stuffing his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, Jungkook’s eyes narrowed into slits as he stared at the rain that was pouring down around him as he stood underneath the bus stop shelter.

He realized the hard way to never trust a drunk friend to secure you a ride home.

So there he was, at almost 11 o’clock at night, shivering his ass off. His breath came out in puffs of smoke, before disappearing into nothing. His glasses kept fogging up from the humidity of the day despite there being rain. And he waited, for the one friend he could trust to pick him up so late at night, his roommate.

Out of his peripheral, he could see something white appear from the harsh cover of the rain. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t only semi panicking, imagining that he was seeing the ghost of a ‘white lady’. He swallowed thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing due to the action, shrinking in on himself in hopes of not being seen by the white specter.

Just as he did so, did the figure suddenly pick up it’s pace towards the bus shelter and him.

Oh shit.

*******

Squinting through the rain, as the rain drops lashed at your skin in piercing waves, you finally saw the end in sight. Not noticing the figure in all black, you practically sprinted the rest of the way to the bus shelter and only hoped you hadn’t missed the last bus ride home. That would’ve been the perfect end to your already perfect day, you thought sarcastically.

Upon making it underneath the awning, you finally closed your eyes and let out a sigh of relief. As much as you loved your boots, they were not meant to be worn for such long distances, and your feet were killing you. Unable to stop shivering, you bit on your bottom lip to prevent the chattering of your teeth that you wanted so badly to do.

Jungkook let out his own quiet sigh of relief into the confines of his hoodie when he realized that the white figure was actually just another victim of the unsuspecting weather. And definitely not a ghost, as far as he knew. His nose scrunched at the aforementioned thought, lip ring rising with his lips, and brows raising into his hairline, as a shiver of his own went down his spine. Nothing like how your poor body was shivering, however, which made Jungkook glance at you out of worry.

Further inspecting your shaking figure, he noticed your white dress was soaked through, as his ears turned red and cheeks became tinted a light pink. He’s a guy, and you’re attractive, what do you expect?

Suddenly feeling guilty about being warm in his hoodie, he came up with a solution.

He would give you his.

He just hoped that you didn’t find it creepy.

*******

You tried your best not to stare at the lone, all black, figure next to you, who you envied for being smart enough to wear or bring an article of clothing to help rid of the rain and still stay warm.

Not one for small talk, or speaking to strangers in general, you didn’t offer anything other than silence. Better to be cautious, than taken advantage of, you like to say.

It was a light tap on your shoulder that shook you out of your depressive reverie, making you turn your head at break neck speed towards the silhouette next to you, fists raised even though you knew for a fact you had no idea how to fight. His hands rose in defense, as he stuttered out his reasoning for breaking your personal bubble in a haste.

Your eyes softened when you saw he was holding out his hoodie towards you with an extended hand that you could see was adorned with various tattoos, no longer wearing the warm hoodie himself.

“Sorry,” he smiled at you sheepishly, cheeks tinted a light shade of red. “I should’ve said something, instead of just tapping you. My bad. But uh, here–,” not wanting to invade your personal space even more, he just opted to slightly, and awkwardly, bend his body towards you as a way of extending his arm out further, the hoodie now dangling in front of your chest. “You need this more than I do.”

“Are you–,” your voice cracked, from not being used in awhile, which made your own cheeks become tinted and mirror his. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah! Do you mind if I–,” still in his awkwardly, bent position, he opened the hoodie up enough for you to easily slink your head and arms inside. A situation you happily took advantage of.

You couldn’t help the way you sighed loudly in content, your body now encased and drowning in the kind strangers large and long hoodie. The end of the sweater reaching far pass your knees, making it look as if you’re wearing nothing but the hoodie. Immediately, you inhaled the musky, yet comforting aroma with closed eyes and smiled for the first time since it started to rain.

Opening your eyes, you turned your body to the big hearted, or just morally correct, male in front of you. Underneath the hoodie they wore just a plain, white, long sleeved shirt. A tiny logo rested above the heart that you couldn’t quite make out, but you had no doubt in the tight, black, skinny jeans he wore, that he was now just as cold as you were, if not worse.

And now it was you who felt bad.

Seeing the conflict in your eyes, Jungkook lifted his phone up in front of your face to show you a notification he just received. It was his roommate letting him know that he was five minutes out and would see him soon.

“My friend is going to be here any second, so I won’t need it. Don’t worry about me, okay?” His warm smile melted you, and made your whole body heat up with his gentle tone. It was funny that he was trying to console you, and not the other way around.

It was nice to feel cared for, even if it was by someone you didn’t even know.

Sure enough, right on schedule, headlights blared through the rain to stop in front of the bus stop. It was the mystery male’s ride home. You don’t know why, but your heart sank into your stomach upon the fact that soon you’d be left alone underneath this bus stop, and would no longer be in the company of the stranger.

Looks like the male shared the same sentiment, as a small smile appeared on his face. Sucking his lip between his teeth, he went to offer you a ride home, yet stopped himself when the tall tale sign of a bus honking caught his attention.

Your eyes widened at the sudden sound as well, and you two stared at each other with bated breath. His friend rolled down the passenger window from the drivers side and leaned over to yell at the male in front of you, voice laced with impatience.

“Yo! Jungkook! Hurry, man! It’s raining cats and dogs, plus the bus is going to need to park here. Let’s go.”

Jungkook made the split second decision to step closer to your no longer shaking form, which for that, he’s grateful to have helped. Pulling a pen out from his back pocket, one he kept on him along with a small notebook incase inspiration struck him for lyrics to a new song, he gently held your wrist to pull the sleeve of his hoodie up enough to write on your arm.

Giving you the ‘call me’ sign with his hand, a sideways spin off of the surfer’s sign, accompanied by a cheeky wink, he hunched over with one arm over his head to attempt to shield the rain that still kept pouring down without remorse, yanking the car door open to clamber inside and sit in the passenger seat, swiftly slamming said door once he was fully in. The action making his driver friend scold him, but he didn’t pay any mind.

Waving at you with a bunny toothed grin, as he adjusted his glasses back onto his nose, the car sped off as the window slowly began rolling back up, and you watched until you could no longer see the reflection of the taillights that bounced off the street lights in a rhythmic pattern.

As the bus came to a full stop in front of you, the doors swinging open with an airy ‘swoosh’, you looked down at your still uncovered forearm with a coy smile and read the hastily scrawled note he wrote, and miraculously fit.

Jeon Jungkook

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

Call me so I can get my hoodie back and a date with you

Pls and thank you ;)

PS - Unless ur a ghost, then u can keep it

[celsfandomrave]

Ted Lasso Costume Deep Dive

I asked if anyone would be interested if I did a deep dive analysis into the Costume Design of Ted Lasso and people seemed to be very interested!

I work as what is called a Stitcher for opera and theatrical costumes which means I am one of the people who sews the costumes you see people wearing on stage. I am not a costume designer and I have never worked in TV. That said, many of the people I work with have worked in TV and I work with costume designers everyday, so I like to think I have a relatively realistic idea of what choices are intentional and what are not. This is my costume design degree put to use.

Part 1: Ted Lasso

Ted has simultaneously the most and least interesting costume design in the show so let’s talk about it and why I am freaking out about Ted’s orange shirt in Sunflowers.

With only very few exceptions here is a list of colors Ted wears:

White

Beige

Grey

Blue (Navy, Light Medium)

IF Ted wears a suit if will be black with a white shirt and a red tie for special occassions or a black tie for funerals

IF Ted is seen in his sleepwear it will be a pair of grey joggers with either a blue shirt, a black “Joe Arthur” T-shirt, or a Kansas City T-Shirt

IF Ted is seen at training or around the club just before or after he will be wearing some combination of (depending on weather):

White or grey polo shirt

Navy Blue Richmond Track Pants

Nav Blue Richmond Track Jacket

Orange Tinted Aviators

White Richmond Visor

On very rare occassions Ted will wear a RED POLO SHIRT. This is outside of Ted’s normal uniform.

The first time we see this shirt in Season 1 Episode 6, Ted is taking off his wedding ring. This immediately establishes that red polo means something is off in Ted’s world, even if it’s something minor. He might wear this shirt more than we actually see in the show but I would think of this as the shirt he wears if he hasn’t had time to do laundry.

This rule continues

Season 2 Episode 2

Ted is dealing with the fact that Dr. Feldstone is staying and the dinamics at the club are changing.

Season 2 Episode 3

Worn as Led Tasso. As though I needed  help proving this meant something was off.

Season 2 Episode 6

When he wears the shirt early in the episode it seems like there is very little going on with him, everything is fine. So why do we get red shirt Ted? and then he gets a panic attack in the middle of a game. That red shirt was the only indication that something was wrong.

Season 3 Episode 5

The Team are in a losing streak following the game with West Ham. He is also wearing it when he finds out about the bullying situation with Henry.

Other exceptions to the rule that I’m not reading too much into, due to them not being quite as noticeable:

Season 2 Episode 5

Ted wears this brownish yellow sweatshirt under his Navy Richmond jacket. I will let this slide because it is mostly covered by the jacket and it is very cold and snowy during this episode.

Season 3 Episode 1

Ted wears a green sweater dropping off his son at the airport. The green doesn’t stand out as much as the red or orange shirt do. I do think this is sort of an indication that we are getting a Ted in season 3 who branches out a little bit more.

Season 3 Episode 3

Ted wears a maroon sweater with a pocket to Sam’s restaurant. Notably, we have seen this sweater in Navy previously. Ted is branching out in colors but only when it is a style he knows he likes. This is also the same style as the orange shirt.

And now SEASON 3 EPISODE 6 he shows up in ORANGE out of nowhere.

and hopefully you understand why I am freaking out enough to do a breakdown of the whole show.

A few things I’d like to note.

The fact that Ted has a reasonably constrained wardrobe doesn’t really surprise me. The way these sorts of shows tend to work is that they will shop for a character’s closet. Even Keeley repeats, if not whole outfits, pieces of them at times. Ted is not the most fashion forward guy, it makes sense that he has a relatively short number of outfits. That said, Coach beard has much more variated style than Ted.

In the episode, what does the Orange shirt tie Ted to?

To me, the most obvious answer to this is actually Colin. Yes, you could argue that he is being tied to to Sunflower painting, maybe to the tea, maybe to the warm colors or the houseboat but if you are going to argue any of those, Colin is being tied to the same thing. I could definitely see both Ted and Colin being tied to the sunflowers. We are definitely meant to compare Ted to Van Gogh in the museum seen. Both are Inspiring creative people who are trying to get past their “inner demons”. Perhaps we are supposed to see that Colin is also one of these people or perhaps it is meant to connect Ted’s journey with Colin’s sexuality storyline. I genuinely don’t know the answer, but Ted’s costume tells me that something is going on.

Stay tuned for future parts where I will reveal which 2 characters are wearing the same distinctive T-shirt and have a similar freak out about Rebecca breaking all of her clothing rules.

Part 2

[patchworkorphan]

Civilian x Crush kidnapped

TW: lady whump, lady whumpee, male whumpers, multiple whumpers, broken bones, kidnapping, kidnap whump, physical violence against a woman,

please be aware of the tags and don't engage if you don't like lady whump! Thank you :)

*~*~*~*~*

It was pouring out, Civilian realised with a groan, resting her forehead against the office window. “Another late night, Civilian?”

Civilian turned her head to see her crush stopped in the middle of the cubicle, his sweater draped over the crook of his elbow. He was just in his tee shirt that showed his defined arms.

That was just unfair, Civilian thought. Why does he have to have a nice face and body?

“Yeah. I’m trying to finish the report on the increase of Villain activity.”

Crush hummed with a nod and a pretty smile. “It seems we’re always the last two to leave,” said Crush.

“Probably because we have no lives,” Civilian said with a small laugh. Oh god she just said that. Out loud. To her crush. When he was probably gonna think she was a weird, boring loser now. Great. Perfect. And it started to rain heavier. Perfect. As if on cue.

To her utter surprise Crush laughed in reply, and not a forced laugh, like a proper, real one. Civilian could listen to that laugh all day.

“You don’t have to expose us like that, Civilian,” said Crush with a small shake of his head. He cleared his throat and then turned his body more towards Civilian. “Since we’re both workaholics and have no lives, how would you like to grab a drink with me?”

“Now?” Civilian asked, eyes going wide.

She looked like shit, and probably smelled like ink.

“Yeah. Now. Why not? I mean… like only if you want to…”

“Yeah, no. Now works,” said Civilian with a smile and Crush’s shoulders relaxed. Civilian quickly shut down her computer and started to gather her things before putting her jacket on and grabbing her crossbody bag before walking to Crush. He gestured towards the lifts and Civilian smiled and walked with him.

When they got into the lift, Crush pressed the ground floor button and the pair of them leaned against the back wall in silence.

Then they both tried to fill the silence at the same time.

“So what do—”

“This report you’re—”

Then they laughed and both said: “you go first.”

Civilian laughed again as a blush climbed Crush’s neck and coloured his cheeks pink. “I was asking,” Civilian continued. “What keeps you in so late every night?”

“Oh,” said Crush, then opened his mouth and a hesitant hum fell from his lips. His eyes almost nervous at Civilian’s question. “Okay, look. You can’t say it to anyone—”

“My lips are sealed,” said Civilian innocently, miming locking her mouth shut.

Crush smiled and leaned in closer to Civilian his voice dropping to a whisper, “you know the new guy? He covers politics…”

“Oh yeah. I’ve seen him around,” said Civilian, eyes bright as she looked at Crush.

“Yeah. He is such a shit writer,” said Crush and Civilian let out a startled laugh. “Don’t laugh. It’s not funny. I’m in late every night trying to fix it up and make it presentable.”

“No rest for the wicked,” said Civilian with a grin. Crush laughed.

“No,” he agreed. “We must be very wicked.”

“Extremely,” said Civilian, then as the doors open, she looked straight ahead as she added, “I’m going to tell him what you said.”

“Ah no. You can’t do that! I’m supposed to be an unbiased editor.”

“Still,” Civilian teased. Crush grabbed Civilian’s arm, stopping her from going out into the cold wet night. Civilian looked at his hand then up at Crush as he pulled an umbrella from his bag. He stepped out first into the little roofed area and opened the umbrella, holding it high enough for them both to fit under.

Civilian said, “you’re so prepared.”

Crush shook his head. “I just listen to the weather after the news.”

“Then what surprise is left in life, Crush?”

Crush brought her to his local bar just down the road, The Public Domain. Crush told her that a lot of lawyers around the area come drink here too. Civilian smiled politely. Crush always had a good network of people that he trusted for his sources. It always seemed like a secret, and now that he was bringing Civilian here, it felt… well, like he was willing to share it with her.

The bar was buzzing with chatter and life. The smell of carpet dust and stale beer greeted their senses the moment they stepped into it. Crush held the door open with his foot, shaking the excess rain off the umbrella before closing it. He smiled slightly when he caught Civilian’s eye and nodded towards the bar. Civilian got the hint and walked up to it with him. The bar was quaint and bustling with patrons, chatting animatedly, laughter occasionally punctuating the conversations leaving a nice rhythmic lull to the pub.

The barman grinned when he saw Crush. “Another late night, Crush?”

Crush’s hand went to the nape of his neck and rubbed it bashfully, it endeared Civilian to him even more if that was possible.

“Yeah, you got me.”

“The usual?” the barman asked, and Crush smiled and said, “yes. A Guinness please and—” Crush said, looking back at Civilian. He leaned into the barman and held up two fingers. “Actually, two please.”

“Two Guinnesses,” said Crush again, and took out his wallet as did Civilian. Crush pushed her hand back and said: “put that away, I’m getting it. We’re here on my invitation.”

“Fine. I get the next round,” said Civilian.

Crush cocked an eyebrow at her. “So confident we’ll have another.”

“I’m just ensuring you know what you’re in for,” said Civilian with a wink. She thanked Crush for the drink, and they went to a small booth in the back. The conversation flowed easy, easier than Civilian flirting with him in the printer room. Or at the office offering to get Crush a coffee from the canteen because she was going anyway. It was better, more intimate.

The conversation got back to work on her third round of drinks and Crush’s smile was far better looking and almost irresistible. Civilian realised halfway through a story Crush was telling her of work that she could just reach over the table and crush her lips to his and all would be well.

His lips stopped moving, then turned up into a grin. “Civilian?”

“Yeah?”

“I was wondering when you got into current affairs?” Crush asked, his husky laugh making an appearance. Civilian blushed at being caught staring.

“Oh,” said Civilian, trying to think back to when she got interested in current events. “I mean… with all the Hero/ villain stories going around, and our paper not really being Pro or Anti Heroes I just wanted to start reporting the facts. As it happened, so people can witness the unbiased information, the before and after, and make up her own minds about it.”

“And?” Crush asked and Civilian let out a small laugh, lifting her hands in a shrug.

“And… Alice liked the idea and told me to handle the Hero–Villain side of things. It got a lot of positive feedback from our readers too.”

Crush leaned in, resting his elbows on the table. “But why were you interested in it to begin with?”

“I was reading about Hero and how good it is that we have them to help us and stop the Villains running around our city. Praising them to the brim, it was bordering on sycophantic…” Civilian trailed off, taking a sip of her Guinness. Crush smiled and reached over the table, wiping some of the foam off of Civilian’s upper lip with her thumb.

It was as if the world had frozen in that moment between them. Civilian’s heart stopped beating for a fleeting second that stretched into eternity. Crush retracted his hand and licked the foam from his thumb with a secretive smile.

Civilian’s face burned redder than cherries, her cheeks heating up. From all the drinking, Civilian told herself, not anything else. Not how hot Crush was, not at all… they barely noticed.

“And you didn’t like that?” Crush asked with his perfect knowing smile. He knew exactly what caused the blush covering Civilian’s face scarlet and continued on the conversation while they were distracted. As if he didn’t do anything at all.  

Oh no Civilian loved that, she wanted to get more foam on her lip just so he could wipe it off again.

What were they talking about again? Oh god, she was making it so obvious. Think Civilian! Oh yes, Heroes and Villains, oh god, she was making it so obvious. Play it cool, Civilian.  

SPEAK CIVILIAN! A voice screamed at her from the back of her mind, and she blushed again.

“No,” said Civilian, turning the clammy glass around in her hands. She continued thoughtfully, “I don’t like when things get shoved down my throat before I know what shit they’re shovelling. Turns out the Hero agency had donated a very generous sum to the publication and that’s why there was a sudden exposé on how good Heroes were.”

Crush sat back when Civilian stopped talking, a small hidden thing twinkling behind his smile. “What?” Civilian asked, cocking her brow.

“Nothing,” Crush said with his handsome smile.

“No what? What’s that smile for?”

“I just didn’t realise you were so passionate about Heroes and villains from reading your pieces. It’s… you’re very surprising, Civilian.”

Civilian bowed her head and Crush laughed, getting to his feet. “Come on. Let’s get you home.”

Civilian nodded, following Crush out of the booth then out the door to the pub. It had stopped raining. A sheen of water covering the streets the only remnant that it had ever rained. So, when water splashed on the pair of them from a passing car, they could do nothing but laugh.

That laugh got cut off as into a scream as something suddenly slammed into Crush. Civilian whirled a scream of horror in her throat. “Crush!”

Civilian was running after him, deeper into a side street, shoes splashing the puddles up her feet. At the bottom of the alley Civilian saw Crush engaged in a struggle with someone. Civilian pulled pepper spray from her bag and ran up on the pair.

Crush’s eyes found Civilian and widened as he yelled: “Civilian! No— ngh, run! Go!”

“Civilian, hmm?” Civilian turned on her heel, pepper spray aimed and ready at the newcomer, but her wrist was caught in the attacker’s hand, and he twisted it roughly. Civilian cried out, as her attacker twisted her wrist further and plucked the pepper spray from her hand with ease. Her only defence. “How lovely to make your acquaintance.”

Civilian’s eyes went hard, and she balled her hand into a fist. She found her centre in her feet, bending her knees slightly. Then twisted her whole body with the slap that she threw straight for the attacker’s cheek.

The attacker simply caught that wrist too, smiling down at her with a grin that exposed too many teeth. Civilian yanked her wrists down, trying to break free of his grip, but her attacker yanked her forward suddenly and Civilian stumbled, her balance thrown off. Her attacker spun her, so her back was to the attacker’s front, her arm twisted behind her back and pinned there. Then there was a gentle hand on her throat, holding her head up, and when Civilian tried to struggle the attacker lifted her captured arm higher and Civilian cried out.

“Crush. You might want to stop,” said the man holding Civilian. The scuffle came to a pause, Crush’s head lifting to see Civilian and whoever was holding her. His eyes narrowing at the person behind Civilian, but he stopped fighting, nonetheless. Then he got a punch to the face for good measure from his attacker.

“I think…” the man behind Civilian said, “we’re all going to go for a drive, hmm?”

“No,” said Civilian. They were in a public place. Her best weapon was her lungs. So, Civilian opened her mouth and screamed at the top of her lungs for “Help! Help! Somebody help us! Police! Ple-”

The coolness of a blade biting into her neck cut her off. “Keep screaming, they’re so pretty… but I would hate for my knife to slip…”

“Okay. Right Hand,” Crush said, glancing between Civilian and Right hand behind Civilian. “I’ll go with you, just… just let Civilian go.”

A rumbling chuckle from behind Civilian sent a shiver ran down her spine. “Oh no, no, no, Crush. Civilian’s coming along to make sure you behave.”

Civilian’s blood went cold as she looked at Crush’s resolve shattering right in front of her eyes. She wanted to fight. She wanted Crush to fight. To try. To struggle to punch to do something…

“Henchmen take Crush, don’t worry. He won’t put up a fight,” Civilian was pushed forward, and she resisted. Her hand was twisted further up her back, and she winced as she was forced a stepped forward.

“Keep walking or I’ll break your arm, Civilian,” Right Hand said into Civilian’s ear. Civilian obeyed because what else could she do?

At the end of the alley there was a black car parked where they had come in. Which meant these guys had been following them… for how long? Right hand kept pushing Civilian forward and when they got to the car, he pushed Civilian into the backseat then slammed the door shut. They did the same to Crush on the other side and Civilian’s panicked eyes went to Crush who just whispered: “everything will be all right.”

“Why do I get the feeling you know these people?” Civilian whispered back. Her hand went to the door trying to open it, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked. Child locked, no doubt. Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck is going on? Crush opened her mouth to reply when the two front doors opened and their attackers, Henchman and Right hand, got into the front of the car.

Henchman was in the driver’s seat and took off, while Right Hand turned in his seat and smiled at Civilian. She couldn’t really tell his features from here. It was too dark. Did he have blue eyes? Or brown? And his hair… she’d need to remember something concrete to tell the police when she get free.

If they get free.

“Sorry to interrupt your date, Civilian.”

“Go fuck yourself, Right Hand,” Civilian said in reply. Right hand just laughed and stared forward again.

“You got a keeper there, Crush. You tell her who you are? Or does the little reporter want to figure it out all by themselves?”

Civilian looked out her window, but it was all blacked out. She couldn’t even see her own reflection. Of course. Of fucking course.

Crush spoke next. “Right Hand, let Civilian go, okay? I’ll come willingly.”

“You’re coming willingly now, Crush.”

“For now,” Crush threatened, his voice taking on a completely different tone than Civilian was ever used to. Ever knew Crush was capable of.

“Put your claws back in,” said Right Hand dismissive. “We’re almost there now anyways. Besides… you wouldn’t risk putting poor Civilian in danger by trying to stop the car and be a hero now, would you?”

Civilian glanced at Crush from the corner of her eye, her heart hammering in her chest but he wouldn’t look at her. Civilian put her hand out, resting it on the middle seat. Crush put his hand in theirs, lacing his fingers through hers and squeezing gently.

When the car stopped Henchman and Right Hand got out of the car. Civilian’s door opened first, and she was grabbed by the arm and pulled out. She looked into the face of Right Hand, who was still smiling down at her. She mustered up her best glare in return. Right Hand just pushed her in front of him again and told her to walk.

Civilian did just that, trying to take in everything around her. Figure out where they were but all she saw was a garage made of cinder bricks and concrete floors. Then a door opened to them, and Right Hand pushed her through. It just led to a larger room. A man stood at the opposite wall, his back to them as they entered. Right Hand’s grip tightened on Civilian’s arm when he felt Civilian almost stop.

“The prodigal son returns,” said Right Hand to the man ahead of them. Civilian looked over their shoulder, trying to find Crush, but a hand squeezed her cheeks and dragged their gaze to face forward again.

Crush spoke and Civilian’s head flooded with relief. He was still here. Civilian wasn’t alone. They were fine. He was fine.

“I’m not saying shit until you let Civilian go,” said Crush to the room. Then a grunt of pain and Civilian shot forward to help and was yanked back by her hair with a yelp.

The man finally turned to face the group and Civilian’s breath caught in her throat. That was Supervillain. That man was the Supervillain. Civilian and Crush were taken here to see Supervillain?! But then that means the person holding Civilian was… Right hand… Supervillain’s right hand. Civilian felt all the blood drain from her face as a small laugh sounded above her. Civilian took an involuntary step back, but just hit Right Hand’s chest.

“Oh, not so brave now, are we?” Right hand asked and Civilian couldn’t find it in herself to reply.

Supervillain approached them. Fine shoes clacking off concrete, echoing. Civilian didn’t dare breathe as Supervillain came closer and closer to her. Supervillain was taller than Civilian. Taller. Broader. Crueller. Instead of going to Crush he walked right up to Civilian and Right hand pushed her forward, letting go of her hair and arm.

Civilian felt very cold and exposed like this. She nearly missed Right Hand’s brutal hold on her. Supervillain looked down at her without a hint of an expression on his face. He looked almost alien. Cold.

Supervillain took Civilian’s hand in his and pulled it up as if to inspect it. Civilian let him. She hated herself for it, but Supervillain killed people, this wasn’t a time to be brave.

“You’ve been gone too long, Crush,” said Supervillain simply. His voice sent shivers down Civilian’s spine. Then Civilian was screaming, white hot pain burst behind her eyes as a resounding crack tore through her hand. Her legs went to jelly, and she wanted to be sick, but she just put her other hand out for support against the only other solid thing there: which happened to be Supervillain.

“LET HER GO! She has nothing to do with this!” Crush yelled. Distantly Civilian was aware of the scuffle behind her. That Crush was probably trying to get to her, but it didn’t matter because that wouldn’t stop the pain in her wrist from burning.

“Are you going to keep making demands, Crush? Because there are 206 bones in Civilian’s body, and I can break as many as you need to remind you of who has the power here.”

Civilian was shivering at the threat. Or the pain. She didn’t know.

“Please…” Crush again. “Please let them go.”

“No,” said Supervillain, and Civilian wanted to throw up. She wasn’t sober enough to deal with this shit. A hand on her chin tilted her head up to look Villain in the eye. “Just a hairline fracture, my dear. Nothing to worry about. Right hand?”

Civilian felt Right hand’s hand on her shoulder again and she nearly sagged against him. “If Crush decides to make any more demands break something else of her.”

“I won’t,” Crush said quickly, the words rushed out panicky and desperate. Then cleared his throat and said again: “I won’t, sir.”

“Good,” said Supervillain, eyes going between the two of his captives. “Let’s begin again then, shall we?”

[arthurian-owls]

Hi! I wanted to ask about your headcanons about human versions of ga'hoole characters; you mentioned Soren with long hair, and I'd like to hear more ^_^

Omg omg okay SO

Soren:

Long auburn hair, pale skin, straight and narrow nose. Dark brown or black eyes, possibly glasses? He wouldn't figure out that he needs them until after he's been at the great tree awhile. This man wears sweater vests and the most torn-up, schmutz-covered jeans you've ever seen. I picture Soren to be tall and lean and deceptively strong.

Gylfie:

Gylfie is our short queen standing around 4'11 with medium-brown skin and dark hair with what I would describe as an "interesting curl pattern" in that some parts are very tightly curled and some parts are more fluffy and loose, which altogether creates a difficult to maintain but very lovely head of hair. In my mind's eye I see it cut just below the shoulders so when it's up in a ponytail it lands just above them. She definitely has freckles, both lighter and darker. She has pale brown eyes that look golden in the right lighting. Gylfie is definitely the most put-together of the Band, but not quite as much as Otulissa. I picture her having a very neat but practical sense of style, and can be found wearing lots of neutrals and heavy-duty materials unless it's a special occasion or she has a day off. Owns many many funky earrings.

Digger:

Digger is probably average height, with deep brown skin and a charmingly crooked nose. His eyes are black and downturned, heavy on the bottom lashes, and he keeps his hair in dreads and those dreads in a ponytail. This man wears flowy, layered clothes, and definitely paints his nails. He's generally just a solid, down-to-earth presence.

Twilight:

Twilight is a large man. Tall, broad shoulders, shaggy hair, pale eyes that feel like they're looking right into your soul. Honestly, I have very few headcanons on what he looks like, but I do like to think he's transmasc. Just for funsies. I also think as he gets older he wears a pair of half-moon glasses for reading. He's covered in scars and spends half his life just totally sunburnt but the guy just exudes a zest for life that is completely unmatched.

Otulissa:

Otulissa is always, entirely and completely, put together. Rarely a hair out of place, rarely an even slightly ruffled appearance- which is why it's so funny to the others when she gets so frazzled in the weather chaw, and so frightening when she's tearing through the halls of the great tree like a woman possessed after Strix Struma's death. Otulissa is tall, with lean muscle and a keen eye. I always imagine her having wavy brown or blonde hair and a button nose that becomes crooked after so many battles. She has a charming gap in her front teeth.

Eglantine:

Eglantine is a redhead and I will die on this hill. Much like Soren, she has a straight and narrow nose and dark eyes, and I honestly picture her wearing lots of gold and pink. She also needs glasses, and I like to think that when she laughs, it's *loud* and *joyful* and extremely infectious. I can see her wearing a ponytail with a big floppy bow in it. I think her style is casual and honestly reminiscent of a cozy 80's mom.

Primrose:

Primrose has straight dark hair and green eyes and wears sweaters and lots of fun jewelery and that's all I have in my brain for her atm 😅

I may come back with more but it's so hot rn that my brain is melting into a puddle of mush haha! Feel free to add on your own headcanons 👀

[epickiya722]

What's your favorite friend dynamic in class 1-A/B, what are your hcs for them?

I HAVE MANY, HOW CAN I CHOOSE?!

But! You know what, I wanna talk about 1B first since they don't get as much love and I adore 1B (y'all will never guess who is my favorite from that class).

As a whole, I love the class interactions. Even in smaller units, they work well, to me at least, as a bigger, easy functional one. Even with the little screentime, they still show they do care for each other and have each other's backs.

If I had to choose one of my favorite friend dynamic in Class B, I'm choosing Rin and Shishida. Especially, after their time as a team during the Joint Training Arc. They were a pair during the Cavalry Battle in the Sports Festival, too.

I'll admit I'm a sucker for how big of the difference in their heights is. You got the tiny guy and the big guy team-up! It's adorable!

Headcanons...

Okay, Rin hates cold weather so I can see Shishida giving him a bunch of sweaters to stay warm so he doesn't always have to carry a blanket and often times the others will see Rin just walking through the dormitory in a sweater that practically swallows him and think nothing of it. Like "oh, yep, he's cold".

For Shishida, he often takes naps so whenever Rin isn't using a blanket and he sees him on the couch, he's quick to cover him and warn everyone to not wake him up unless Shishida already told someone to beforehand.

I can also see them often pairing up whenever they can during training. After the JT Arc, they work on communicating without the need to speak and sometimes this goes into when the class is relaxing. It would be a normal afternoon and Rin is in the kitchen and then Shishida comes in without saying anything, but Rin is already passing him a sandwich and tossing him a juice box from the fridge and the others are just like "how did he know???"

I gotta write more fics for these two. WHY HAVEN'T I ALREADY, THAT MUST CHANGE!

For Class A, again, I love them as a whole! I just... they have my heart!

To choose, you know what because they don't get as much love, at least platonically (I like them as a romantic pair, too), I gotta go with Ojiro and Hagakure on this one. I adore both characters so much.

One of my favorite details about them is if you need to find Hagakure, look for Ojiro. Most of the time, she is right there beside him.

Their interactions come off as they've known each other forever even though this is the first year they've been in the same class.

Headcanons I have for them?

They can easily confide in each other. I can see them going to the other for comfort whenever they need to talk to someone.

Another I have is Hagakure has seen Ojiro do at least one or two things that are "not normal", but she's just more amused than "Oh my gosh, I've been deceived".

They would definitely be best friends even after high school. Lunch dates, yoga and everything.

I also see them as the type of friends where they play constant petty, but harmless pranks on each other. Right now in my "Class Antics" series, Hagakure has a grunge against Ojiro for eating her pudding and in turn, he now has a small collection of cropped tops.

For now, that's all I have!!

[gayvorestories]

Oops, it's a long one.

fatal vore, consensual, digestion, stuffing

Rick hefted himself up from bed and stumbled towards his bedroom door, his belly hanging low, still packed tight and gurgling from last night's hookup.

He hadn't even had time to finish digesting the last one before this one practically crawled down his throat. Something about this time of year - maybe the weather he thought to himself - sent some of the twinks and twunks at the bars into bear fever. The guy last night, Daniel? David? something with a D, practically climbed him after Rick closed the door, grabbing at his belly the whole time. After the little guy came he leaned his head against Rick's open mouth and instinct kicked in.

Okay, maybe they're not *crawling* down my throat, but he didn't put up a fight, Rick thought to himself while he poured a cup of coffee. He puts his head in my mouth and doesn't even push back when I start swallowing and I'm just supposed to not eat him?

He leaned forward, elbows on the counter and legs in a wide stance, belly hanging down like a massive weight as it groaned contently. Rick gave his belly a pat on the side and sipped his coffee. Never been in the habit of skipping meals, better not start now, he thought to himself as he hefted himself up and walked back to the bedroom to get some clothes on. Breakfast was calling.

He walked down the block, an oversized sweater barely covering his belly, towards a good breakfast spot. With every step he felt his belly sway, the sweater fighting to keep him covered. Normally he wasn't very heavy set, he had a little bit of a belly for sure but nothing like this, but with one and a half men crammed inside him he was absolutely massive.

"'Scuse me," he said embarrassed as he entered the restaurant, accidentally bumping someone waiting by the door with his belly when he turned to make sure it didn't slam. Red-faced, he approached the host's stand and was met by pale blue eyes and dark brown hair on five and a half feet of absolute beef. When he caught his breath and looked up from a pair of pecs barely held in by a too-tight white tshirt, Rick realized the guy was looking at his belly the same way.

The server looked up and turned red when he realized he'd been caught. "Hi, uh, I'm Tony I'll, uh, be your server. H-How many?"

Rick smiled, realizing he hadn't just been caught himself. "Just one."

"Follow me," Tony said, whipping around and grabbing a menu.

Rick followed behind, trying his best not to bump anyone sitting with his belly as he stumbled through the dining room. He plopped down in a booth, his belly almost touching the table, and let out a sigh that he managed not to bump into anyone.

"I hope you brought your appetite, we have some good specials today."

"Oh, I always bring my appetite," Rick said, giving the waiter a grin that sent his cheeks red again.

"W-What can I get you started with? I mean, your drink, what can I get you to drink?"

"Hm, a coffee and some water."

"Do you need some time to look over the menu?"

"Yes, definitely, thanks."

"No problem, I'll be right back."

As he walked away, Rick let out a little sigh. It took everything he had not to stare right at the waiter's chest, but he couldn't show his hand that easy. He opened up his wallet and double checked, his hookup had $200 on him last night. I don't think he'll mind if I use this to top off, Rick thought as his belly let out a low, churning groan.

Tony came back and set his drinks down on the table. "Any idea what you'd like?"

Rick set his menu down and sighed, "I'm really not sure, it all sounds good." He ran his hand under his sweater and gave his belly a scratch, letting a little bit peek out from underneath. Tony's eyes went right to it and Rick grinned. "What do you think I should eat?"

"I guess that depends. How hungry are you?" Tony said, trying not to stumble over his words.

"Absolutely starving."

"Well, I-"

Rick cut him off before he could continue, "Actually here, I have an idea. Two hundred dollar limit. I'm so hungry I could eat a horse. You pick."

"I'm not sure..." Tony started, but trailed off as Rick gave his belly a little rub, the bottom of his sweater riding up a little higher. He gave a little swallow, "I-I'll bring something right out."

Rick smiled and leaned back. It wasn't long before Tony came out with two plates piled high with pancakes. He dove in, looking up and catching Tony stealing glances a few times. No sooner than swallowing the last bite, Tony shows up with an extra-wide platter holding a foot-long omelette.

"I hope you're still hungry."

"As long as you're the one bringing the plates, I think I'll still have a little room," Rick said with a grin and a wink.

Tony smiled back, "well, my shift is over in about 45 minutes, so you better eat fast."

Rick cut a quarter off of the omelette and crammed the entire thing into his mouth. He gave a few bites, tilted his head back, and swallowed, a lump traveling down his neck. "I guess we'll see what runs out first, my money or your shift."

Rick ate as quickly as he could, making a big show of swallowing big bites whole whenever Tony was watching. Tony brought out plate after plate, watching Rick's belly slowly grow with each one until it gently pressed the table at the booth. Eventually, he brought out two plates on each arm and set all four down in front of Rick before sitting down across from him.

"Looks like we both ran out at the same time."

Rick swapped his empty plate for one of the new ones. "Well, I guess that means I don't have to eat alone then, do I?"

"Looks like it," Tony said smiling. He leaned on his elbows on the table and gave his pecs a little bounce that Rick couldn't stop himself from looking at. "Caught you looking that time."

Rick froze as he put another bite in his mouth and his eyes locked with Tony's.

"I saw you looked at them while I was looking at that hungry tummy."

Rick smiled, "I thought I got away with it."

Tony laughed, "Oh, you got away with it, you just also happened to get caught." He flexed his pecs again. "I'm not gonna get mad at you checking me out as long as you don't get mad when I check you out back."

Rick set his empty plate aside. "You wanna check me out back?"

Tony leaned forward as Rick shoveled another bite into his mouth. "I'll check you out any place you want if you finish that last plate."

Rick shoveled the french toast slices from his current plate into his mouth, unceremoniously swallowing the soggy, syrup-soaked bread as it entered his mouth. He picked up the last plate - a bowl really - and tilted his head up so Tony could watch his neck as he funneled the massive bowl of fresh fruit slices into his mouth and down his throat in one ten-second pour. He set the bowl down on the table and leaned back as his stomach gave a little groan. "My place is down the street."

"Well let's stop wasting time here. I think someone needs his tummy rubbed."

They stumbled down the street, Rick's sweater no longer covering his belly all the way, and made their way up to Rick's apartment. As soon as Rick locked the door, Tony grabbed the collar of his sweater and pulled his face into a rough kiss. Rick put his hands on Tony's sides and Tony rubbed the sides of Rick's belly. Rick moaned as Tony guided him towards the couch, grabbing his left pec with one hand and his ass with another.

Tony sat him down, pulled off his shirt, and straddled what little bit of his lap wasn't taken up by his belly, rubbing and giving the taut surface a few firm presses. Rick sighed and relaxed as Tony kissed and rubbed his belly, which had gotten louder in its sloshing and groaning since he stuffed down enough food to feed a small crowd - to impress a guy, no less. He let out a little moan as Tony gave the side of his belly a little nibble before tracing his tongue all the way back to his bellybutton.

Rick slid his fingers under the bottom of Tony's too-tight tshirt and started to lift when Tony grabbed his hands.

"I'll take it off when you tell me what's in that belly, big boy."

"Mm, you saw me eat all of it, you should know."

Tony gave his belly a firm press. "You know what I mean. This hungry tummy was already full of something when you came in. Tell me what it is and we can have some real fun."

Rick paused before choking out a lie, "I, uh, went to a big buffet dinner last night. Absolutely cleared the place out."

"You wanna tell me what you really ate?" Tony said as he traced his nails down the sides of Rick's belly. "I know what's in there, but I wanna hear it."

"Y-you, what?"

Tony laughed a little and smiled, "you think I don't know? I haven't been able to keep my eyes off of you all morning and you think I don't know what that overworked little belly has been churning away at?"

"We met at the bar. My mouth was opened and he leaned his head against it. Instincts kicked in."

"Just the one? He must have been big."

"Another two days before. He was barely digested before this one, my stomach is so heavy I could hardly move."

Tony's eyes widened, "wow, two? That's hot big guy. Very sexy." Tony ran his hands along the sides of Rick's belly and gave it a kiss.

Rick lifted Tony's shirt again and this time Tony pulled it off.

"Very sexy," Rick said, grinning.

"You like what you see?" Tony said as he flexed his biceps and bounced his pecs. He reached down and unbuttoned Rick's pants, "maybe I can show you a little more."

"What do you wanna show me?" Rick said, trying to lean up from behind his belly.

Tony dropped his own pants to the floor where Rick could see. "I wanna show you a good time." He leaned Rick back on the couch and Rick opened a drawer on the coffee table to show him a bottle of lube. He pushed Rick's belly forward and saw his dick stiff as a board hiding under the bulk of three huge meals, squirted a big blob of lube on top, and positioned himself over.

"Bit of a tight fit?" Rick said as he helped hold his belly forward.

"Not a tight fit if I want it pushed up against me," Tony replied with a wink. He lowered himself down, Rick's thick shaft sliding in slowly. He let out a small gasp as his thighs pressed flat against Rick's hips, "fuck, you're bigger than I expected."

Rick gave a playful thrust and Tony gripped the sides of his belly, which was now firmly pressed against Tony's body. Tony gave a thrust back, the lube between his dick and Rick's belly giving him exactly what he needed.

He started bouncing slowly at first, his own dick rubbing between his body and Rick's belly with each one, gradually building up speed until he was shaking Rick's couch. "Fuck me, this is so good."

Rick let out a moan as Tony squeezed the sides of his belly. He felt Tony thrusting against the underside of his bloated gut and it turned him on more than he could stand.

"F-fuck Tony I'm... I'm.... a-AH!"

Tony moaned and came at the feeling of Rick's load shooting inside him. "F-Fuck, cum in me."

Rick's eyes rolled back as he shot inside Tony, feeling Tony's hot cum drip down the underside of his belly. He felt a sudden pressure on the top of his belly and the press of lips on his. He opened his eyes and saw Tony had crawled onto his belly and was passionately kissing him. Rick closed his eyes again and kissed him back.

"Feel good, hungry boy?"

Rick nodded in response and pulled him in for another kiss.

"Lemme make you feel really good," Tony whispered, "you want me to make you feel really good?"

Rick moaned and nodded, eyes still closed.

Something was pressing his jaws open, but he was too busy to care. It wasn't until he felt himself swallow the he realized what was happening. He reached down and tried to push Tony by his shoulders, but he was too strong and pushed Rick's hands to the side. Rick struggled but couldn't fight his reflexes when Tony pushed a little further forward and he swallowed again.

Tony angled his feet just right and gave a solid, forceful push on the couch, forcing himself further down Rick's throat.

Rick gagged slightly before his body gave another involuntary swallow. Oh fuck what is he doing, he thought in a panic, is he *trying* to get eaten? Tony gave another shove, with his feet, pushing himself even further down. Rick felt Tony's pecs just inches from his tongue. If I try to heave right now maybe I can push him back up but... fuck I wanna lick his tits.

His body decided for him and gave another swallow, drawing his soon-to-be-meal far enough in that he could slide his tongue between Tony's pecs. Tony responded by flexing them and Rick gave a little swallow to pull them the rest of the way into his mouth. He licked circles around Tony's nipples and traced the underside with his tongue, the soft muscle occasionally firming up as Tony gave him something to play with.

After a few minutes, his stomach demanded its next meal and he involuntarily swallowed again, dragging Tony further down his throat. Ah fuck, too late, there's no way I can get him up now, Rick thought, wait, wait shit I can't fit him in there! My stomach will tear!"

He tried to heave and push him back up, but choked a little and drew him further down his throat instead. His fuzzy belly, still warm and sticky from his cum, passed over his tongue. Oh fuck I have to figure out how to get him out, I have to push him back up, there's no way, no fucking way he's gonna fit.

His stomach had other plans and he gave another swallow, pulling Tony's stiff dick into his mouth and towards the back of his throat in one strong pull. Rick grabbed Tony's thighs and tried to pull, but the grip of his throat was like iron. Trying to heave pushed him up a few inches, but his body responded by pulling him back in even further.

After struggling for several minutes, Rick leaned back, exhausted and, for the first time in a very long time, painfully stuffed. If it's gonna happen, it's gonna happen I guess, Rick thought, defeated. He tilted his head back, straightening Tony's legs out so gravity could do the rest of the work. He felt his knees, then his calves, and then his feet pass through his lips. When Tony's feet stopped right at the back of his throat, Rick sat himself forward, using all of his strength to push himself upright and his belly in front of him.

Gotta do this right so he slides in easy, he told himself, okay, one, two... three. He gave a powerful gulp that pulled Tony's legs down his throat slowly. Inside his stomach, he felt Tony curl into a ball as the rest of his body entered. Rick gave one more powerful swallow and sent Tony the rest of the way in, feeling him curl up into a tight fetal position.

"Fuck man, you gotta warn somebody."

Tony said something back but Rick couldn't hear him decently.

"I can't hear you in there. I hope you aren't asking to be let out, because that's a one-way trip."

He felt Tony shift inside him as he leaned back on the couch. His stomach was the size of a beanbag chair and there was no way he was going anywhere until this went down. "Fuck, I overdid it..." he whispered to himself. Tony's movements were slowing as his powerful stomach acid took over. "Settle down little guy, just relax and enjoy your new home. It'll be over soon."

The shifting stopped and the muffled words were replaced by the low groans of Rick's churning stomach. The afternoon sun was warming his absolutely stuffed belly and his stomach was putting out the most relaxing white noise. He closed his eyes and gave his belly a gentle pat and a rub. Okay, maybe some of them *are* crawling down my throat, he thought to himself just before drifting off to sleep.

======== ======== ======== ========

Sorry for the long wait for another story. If anyone has any ideas, my ask box is open and I'll absolutely write you a short (3-5 paragraphs) story if the prompt is something I think I can turn into something good!

[lvyu]

cold hands, warm laughs

. . ♡ ･ﾟphantombur x reader

⎯ wc. 1.2k

notes: secret santa exchange time for grey’s event! for @weewooihavefoundyou! hope this is okay, i’m a bit outta practice and it’s my first shot at phantombur! i used the general prompt of making them blush.

“i enjoy the weather this time of year,” wilbur said. “i don’t get as tired as i normally do.”

“right, well, while you have a merry time out here, i’m freezing to death,” you shivered. “can we please go, bur? time’s gotta be up by now.”

wilbur tsk’d, correcting you. “five minutes.”

if you had the energy, you would have kept annoying him about the time, but considering you were sure there was snow piling up in your boots, you couldn’t be bothered. you watched as wilbur walked aimlessly around, kicking at small hills of snow. despite his few layers (he wore the same thing as always, just pants, shoes and that dumb yellow sweater and purple half-cape of his), he didn’t even shiver. come to think of it, when he breathed out, you couldn’t even see it in the air. the only reaction he had to it was the occasional twitch of his wings.

before you could feed your curiosity, he kicked a small pile of snow, revealing a small, damaged flower. a rare one at that, and the exact one that was the center of your bet with the deceased menace.

the sight of it made you groan, any earlier feelings and thoughts gone, knowing it meant you’d owe him days of work. wilbur, on the other hand, smiled.

“this is a scam, obviously you knew where to find them.” you watched him pick it up, twirling it gently between his index and thumb, careful not to completely destroy it.

he shrugged. “should’ve thought of all the possibilities before you agreed.”

before you could argue with him, he faded out, mumbling a ‘come along then’, leaving footprints in the snow as he retreated to his home. begrudgingly, you followed, lagging behind a little, though he didn’t seem to mind. if anything, he seemed to enjoy the quiet, soon reappearing and humming a tune.

it took a while to get back, greeting a few of the other residents walking around before reaching his place. he went inside first, shutting the door in your face, yelling: “you have to knock, the sign says so!”

menace.

after you very politely knocked on his door, he opened up with a grin and let you in, shuffling to his mini-brewing station to order things as he let you get settled. truth be told, being inside wasn’t much different than being outside.

“have you considered investing in windows that don’t have giant holes in them?” you asked, rubbing your hands up and down your arm, a futile attempt to warm up.

“i don’t mind,” he answered.

“i do.”

wilbur hummed in thought, placing the rarity you’d found in a special casing to preserve it. once he hid it away in that cluttered drawer of his, he turned back to you. “you’ll be working in the basement, anyways,” as if the basement wasn’t just as cold, it was built on top of caves for fuck’s sake. “but if you ever do get a little too cold, feel free to buy a potion from me!” he gestured to his small shelf of potions, (only a small portion of what he actually had stored away, you were sure). “or there’s blankets somewhere in that closet.”

“you’re the most annoying person i’ve ever met.” despite your urge to ignore him, you followed his words and pulled out a few blankets to wrap around yourself and sat down. the floor was even colder.

he snorted, turning away from you, going back to sorting through his junk. “and you’re the most whiny person i’ve ever met.”

“says the guy who can’t even feel cold.”

“i— what?” he looked down at you and started laughing, wings perking up and hands covering his face. “how is that at all related to me calling you whiny?”

his reaction stunned you, leaving you scrambling for an answer. “i don’t know!” your response only made him laugh harder. seeing him laugh for the first time, and so hard, was jarring. “you can’t though, right? that’s not funny at all!”

after a few minutes of going back-and-forth, (mostly you yelling at wilbur to stop laughing so much, which only made him laugh harder), he calmed down, joining you on the floor in front of you, legs crossed. he looked at you, making you awkwardly look anywhere but his eyes.

“hm,” he reached out, touching your cheeks. “you’re warm now— is it because you’re embarrassed?”

screw being awkward. “no!” you met his eyes. “you’re actually crazy, i can’t believe i made a bet with you.” you grabbed his hands, pulling them away from your cheeks, holding them between your faces. “shit, i’m crazy.”

he smiled; he was quite enjoying seeing you so flustered. “you’re so stupid.”

“fuck you.” it came out instinctually, a natural response to his words, though his tone was gentle as he spoke, lovingly, dare you say.

wilbur paid no mind to your words, shrugging it off. “you sort of are, but that’s okay, i… like.. it,” he put his hands down, pulling yours along with his. “where’d you even get the idea i can’t feel from?”

“cold specifically!” you corrected him, earning an ‘ah’ from him. “and you never seem cold or anything! you’re a cold-hearted dick sometimes—” he laughed. “—but you don’t… shiver or shake or anything, so i very smartly and logically came to the conclusion that you can’t get cold.” you finished, looking at him for any sort of response, hoping it made sense. his face was blank, quietly humming as he took your words in.

after a moment, he giggled. “i was right, you’re so, incredibly, stupid.”

this time, you didn’t curse him, instead you pulled your hands from his (which were still partly grabbing yours) and quickly placed one on each cheek, moving your hands all around and smushing his face.

(if he were still alive, you’d probably end up killing him with the way you were blocking his nose.)

at first he jumped back a little, the sudden movement scaring him, but once he understood what you were doing, he started laughing, almost as hard as earlier. it was your way of telling him he sucked, and he knew that, and he couldn’t be more delighted at your antics.

“huh,” you said, with disbelief in your voice. “you are cold. can you feel that? do you feel cold?”

he shrugged, still evading giving you a proper answer. “you’re so silly,” his words came out muffled, eliciting a laugh from you. “told you so.”

you let his face go, resting your hands back in your lap, smiling. “you know, you were a little warm though— i do that?” you teased. “did silly little me making the wilbur embarrassed?”

wilbur brought a hand to his cheek, tapping it with his index finger as though he was deep in thought. after a comically long amount of time sitting there, he stopped, giving you a cheeky smile.

“nah, just got warmed up from the house, i guess.”

“you actually suck,” you argued. “i can totally tell you’re blushing!”

“you’re so silly, i’m not.”

“you are! definitely!”

“silly weirdo.”

[xgummibearx]

Fatgum x (F) Reader

Snowday 

Trigger Warnings: Canadian winter. 

Author’s Note: So...fair warning, I do apologize but this is based on winter conditions in Canada and not Japan. Purely cause I just have no idea how winter works anywhere else in the world, other than Canada. Except of course the coldest places on earth that make my hometown look like a hayride in a handbasket. 

(DW I give you full permission to mock how weak I am to heat okay? I can barely handle +25C)

---

She could see her breath rise towards the ceiling as she packed away her laptop and piles of paperwork. It had been hours since their district lost power, and from the sound of things that would be the case until well past nightfall. As if on cue she heard a familiar voice over the loud speaker of the Fat office. “Due to this power outage and what appears to be worsening weather conditions, we advise all staff to start making their way home as soon as possible! Any heroes scheduled for night patrol are advised to equip their winter gear.” (X) pulled on her jacket, looking out the window. Only the street lights were on, stop lights glowing against the falling snow that was coming down so heavily it looked like a wall. She sighed, making her way towards Fatgum’s office. “hello miss (x)!” She turned to see Red Riot, chipper as ever. “Fatgum asked me to come in to cover for Tamaki tonight, he caught a cold.” She smiled, brandishing a tote bag. 

“Well in that case I need you to bring this to him!” She rummaged around in the bag, producing a long red and black scarf, as well as a purple and white hat. “Your scarf as requested, and here is Tamaki’s hat! Oversized to fit his ears of course.” Kirishima put on the scarf, grinning ear to ear. 

“Thank you so much! This is perfect, and I am sure that Tamaki will love this!” He walked alongside her as she made her way to Fatgum’s office, passing by heroes as they prepared to face the cold. 

Taishiro hung up his sweater to opt for his winter design. Thankfully his winter costume wasn’t too different. Heavier lined boots, and a thicker jacket that could definitely be used as a one person tent. He turned as his door opened, his face lighting up. “Hey! You’re heading home?” He asked (X), walking over to give her a small kiss on the cheek. 

“Yes, I’m glad you guys aren’t on the late shift! I’ll see you nine right?” She asked, reaching up to hold his soft face. Taishiro nodded, looking over to Kirishima. 

“Oh? What’s that you got there?” He was smiling, the scarf almost hiding his face. 

“(x) made me this! She made Tamaki a hat as well!” He hung his school bag on the coat rack, putting the hat inside to take to Tamaki tomorrow. Taishiro slowly peeked inside (x’s) bag, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. (x) smirked gently waving him away before revealing a bright yellow scarf and orange hat with a matching yellow pompom. 

“You think I could forget you?” She asked with a wink, wrapping the soft thick scarf around his neck and placing the hat atop his head. (x) couldn’t help but giggle. “You look so cute!” He smirked leaning down. 

“Well, if any criminals out there compliment your craftsmanship I’ll be sure to let you know.” He gave her another kiss, she could feel his smile and burning cheeks from his warm costume. “Thank you honey I love them.” 

(x) fastenend her seatbelt, slowly pulling out from the parking lot of the Fat Agency. Huge snowflakes lazily fell from the sky. She drove slowly, looking out the road carefully. There was already over a foot of snow on the ground, piles of snow bulldozed and freezing over into small icy mountains of sludge as she drove past. She had the key to Fatgum’s condo, the doorknob almost took two hands to turn as she entered. (X) immediately set to work, turning on the heater and electric fireplace to make everything was cozy. Honestly she was just thankful that the power outage hadn't hit this part of the city yet.

There was already an assortment of Christmas lights stretched throughout the livingroom, making everything look soft under their warm glow. “Okay..” She muttered, tying on an apron and setting to work. Hot beef soup with warm steamed dumplings, steamed greens, and she had just put some fresh gingerbread cookies in the oven as the door opened. 

Taishiro was shivering, covered head to toe in snow. There hadn’t been much crime, not even a purse snatcher. It was far too cold, (x) could hear the wind howling outside. The snow blew into the entryway as he shut the door. “It’s terrible outside, and according to the news it’s going to get worse.” Taishiro sighed. He looked exhausted. “I hate winter...” He grumbled, the sludge, the ice. It was miserable. (X) wiped her hands and walked over, taking his coat and boots. His face was bright red, and he was still shivering. His new hat and scarf were soaked along with his hair. 

“Oh honey...” She sighed, holding his cold cheeks. “Dinner is not quite ready, you should go have a hot bath then we can eat okay?” He closed his eyes, kissing her palms as he deeply inhaled. 

“It smells wonderful.” Taishiro smiled, as (X) reached up to kiss him. He went down the hall,soaking into the nice warm water as the wind outside grew stronger. By the time they sat down to eat, the snow outside was piling. Slowly covering entryways, and piling dangerously over black ice; making the roads completely undriveable. 

Tai finished what had to have been his sixth steamed bun, a smile on his soft face. “This is delicious, and you know what I think would be the perfect finish?” (X) Looked up, popping the last bite of her bun into her mouth. 

“What would that be Tai?” She asked, he winked as he started gathering their bowls and plates. 

“I can’t surprise you? Now why don’t you go rest in the livingroom and rest? I can fill the dishwasher.” He kissed her cheek, “you worked so hard, let me take care of it.” She smiled, kissing him softly. 

“Thank you Tai.” She went to his room first, slipping on some warm pyjama pants and a soft yellow hoodie from Tai’s closet. She inhaled deeply, pressing the soft fabric to her nose. She was thankful it wasn’t one of his work hoodies, they were made with a material that wasn’t as soft. A sweet smell wafted into her nose as she walked down the hall, it mingled with the remaining scent of the homemade gingerbread. Taishiro was holding two huge mugs, covered in an ungodly amount of whipped cream. He handed (x) a cup that had sprinkles all over the top for good measure. 

“Surprise!” He grinned, offering (x) a wink. “I thought some homemade hot coco would really hit the spot with those cookies you made.” She giggled, reaching up to touch his face. Some crumbs fell to the floor as his cheeks turned red. 

“Helped yourself did we?” She asked, making his cheeks go red. 

“Well...I didn’t eat all of them.” He muttered, handing her the plate. (X) chuckled, there was about a half dozen left...out of the two dozen she had made.

 “I’ll make some more another night.” She offered, kissing him gently as she took the plate and made her way to the livingroom. 

“I don’t deserve you (x).” He sighed dramatically, snickering at her as she shook her head at the half empty plate. It was the perfect night, as (x) finished her hot cocoa. Her face gently rested on Taishiro as he wrapped an arm around her. It didn’t take long for (X) to fall into a deep, peaceful sleep. She wrapped both her arms sleepily around his neck as he picked her up and carried her to bed. They had a long day tomorrow. Patrol was going to be rough with all the snow they were getting. As she lay, her face cuddled into his soft chest, and his strong hands gently holding her as close to him as possible, (x) listened to the wind outside. Just hearing it was enough to make her shiver. She nuzzled in closer to Taishiro, falling back asleep in no time. 

Fatgum woke first, the morning grey from the heavy clouds, he slowly got up, pressing a gentle kiss on her cheek after making sure the blankets were pulled up over (x). He stood, narrowing his eyes. “It’s cold...” He thought, pulling on a spare sweater to turn up the heat on the thermostat. As he reached for the hall light however, it didn’t work. “Well that would explain why the heating’s out...” He muttered, sighing as he went to check outside. Taishiro was shocked when he was barely able to open the door. The snow piled high outside on his front porch made it a challenge, and from the looks of things the snow was still going. Taishiro grumbled, shutting the door behind him.”I hate winter...” He muttered, checking his phone. According to emergeny alerts, the power would be back on within the next couple hours but the entire city was going to be under lockdown likely for the next couple days. Fatgum’s ears perked up at the thought. “Hmm...a couple days?” He thought. “(X) and I...stuck here with nowhere to go, no paperwork to fill out, no criminals to cuff...” He turned it over in his head a few times then smiled, making his way back to bed. He was grinning from ear to ear as he slipped back under the warm covers, pulling (x) closer with a deep breath as he felt her pressed so close to him. Looking down at her face as he softly caressed her cheek before kissing her forehead. “Maybe I do like winter after all...” He thought, before drifting back to sleep. 

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

sharing an umbrella in the rain, or a coat/blanket in the cold

For Lucian/Peter (any version) if the post as of an hour ago is still the case?

I'm still taking requests all day! (until I have work tonight) I think I'll go with... the new au, because I'm having so much fun with it.

On with the fic!

--

"Shit, shit, shit, this was a stupid idea. God, I should have known better!

"It's not your fault that weather is unpredictable, Peter."

"Then what the fuck's the point of an almanac!? Or a weather app?!"

"I... I'm honestly shocked you know that almanacs were used to help predict weather."

"I'm not as dumb as people online think I am." Peter scoffed as he tried to keep his head covered with a newspaper, but it was doing a very, very poor job of covering his head. It wasn't like he could get sick anymore, but being a vampire meant that the cold really bothered him more than it used to, and this rain was fucking freezing!

"I am aware of that fact, my love, you are very intelligent." Lucian said as he tried to break the lock on the door of the building they needed to get into. They could have picked their way in, but Peter had left the lock picking kit at home by accident, so lycan strength was needed.

Peter scoffed and tossed the soggy paper aside, shuddering as he felt cold rain run down the collar of his sweater and down his back. He should have worn a hoodie, but he liked this sweater, it was comfy and black and had little decals of black bats on it when you saw it in the light. He had not prepared for tonight, fuck!

"I don't think we can break the lock, we might have to come back tomorrow with the kit, this door is too thick for me to break the lock off of." Lucian sighed, shaking out his hair, spraying water all over.

Peter shouted and glared. "Was that necessary?" He asked, doing everything in his power to not make a wet dog joke.

"Sorry." Lucian frowned, turning to him. "It was sticking to my face. Let's get back to the car, you're soaked to the bone."

"Feels like it's deeper than that." Peter shivered, rubbing at his arms. All he wanted was a hot bath and a cup of coffee right now, he was freezing! And to totally cuddle up with his extra-hot (in more ways than one) boyfriend-

He blinked when he noticed he wasn't being pelted by rain and looked up, seeing the familiar inside of Lucian's jacket. He looked at the lycan, who was now becoming soaked by the rain. He smiled at Peter. "I think you might need this more than me."

"But... you're wet now." Peter said, dumbly.

"I am hotter than you, I'll be fine. You need this more than me." Lucian said, keeping Peter covered before directing him in the direction of the car.

Peter coughed awkwardly, not sure what to really say to such a cliche, romantic gesture that really shouldn't make his shitty, vampire heart beat like a jackhammer. But, whoop, there it goes! God, he really loved this giant wolf man.

"Thanks." He mumbled in the rain when they got to the car. "That was... really sweet of you, babe."

Lucian smiled, knowingly, like he understood what Peter really meant. "Of course. Let's get home before we find out if vampires can get colds."

--

I kinda ended up mixing the two themes. :)

You guys keep giving me the sweetest themes for these two and I keep churning out fluff with Peter's brand of terrible language.

[thelastbraincellofthehive]

Finally' wrote that thing I said based on one of these prompts! Hope you guys like it.

I.

Wednesday enjoyed having the opening shift at Hop-Frog Coffee Shop. It was early enough in the morning for the sun to be barely visible (and hopefully even less than that, once fall had officially settled down), and with the shop being considerably smaller and less popular than the bigger Black Cat Café where Nevermore students loved to spend their weekends, and less convenient than the breakfast stands at the ‘Quad’, it was uncommon for her to have to do much more than prepare a couple cups of expresso for the poor fools who had scheduled seven A.M. classes or had last minute projects to finish during finals week before one of her coworkers showed up at eight right in time for the actual morning rush.

Her eyes scanned the landscape at the other side of the windows. Heavy droplets of rain hit the crystal rhythmically, the overcast skies practically drowned the raising sun and created the most gloomy atmosphere you could get for an early september morning. The view almost made her want to smile. Almost.

The front bell ringed unexpectedly, Wednesday didn’t thought she’d had any customers so early with that weather, so she couldn’t help to be curious about what kind of lunatic just had entered.

She regretted it immediatly, her eyes squinting at the sight of a rainbow umbrella dripping on the floor, as its owner wrestled to get it closed. Her lips pursed imperceptibly, she had just mopped the place twenty minutes ago, but was swiftly distracted from her inner complains when the umbrella was finally settled on the stand by the door and the... girl? Carrying it turned to her with a blinding smile on her face. Wednesday felt almost impressed, but mostly horrified, at the creature in front of her. She was practically painful to look at. Her fluffy bubblegum pink jacket was a affront to the world on its own, but paired with an equally nauseating bright yellow sweater, white and violet tye-dye jeans and an actual beanie with dog ears partly covering her blonde hair, it should be ilegal for her to walk around.

“Hi!” Exclaimed the girl, walking towards the counter with an annoying skip in her step. How could someone have that much energy before seven A.M.? Wednesday didn’t understand. “I didn’t knew there was a coffee shop here! It’s pretty hidden.” Wednesday nodded. Hop-frog was barely a hole-in-the-wall, easily overshadowed by the other shops and buildings around it. “I think I would’ve missed it if not for the coffee smell as I passed.”

“Most people do.” Confirmed the barista. “I’m mostly surprised you were able to smell the coffee with the rain out there. You must have an overdeveloped sense of smell.” Her tone was unfriendly (as usual), but the blonde didn’t look affected. What was worse; she giggled, a high and musical sound echoing through the shop.

It was revolting.

“Well, I somehow was not running late for class today...” Ah, so she was one of those poor fools that scheduled early classes, that made sense. “...so I was finally checking around campus...” She probably wasn’t from around Jericho then. The university was such a big part of the town that it was surprising they hadn’t renamed it to Nevermore already. Everybody knew what the Nevermore campus looked like. “...And this is just around my dorm!” She was probably a first year then, most of them stayed in Ophelia Hall and moved to one of the dorms closer to the main building during their next semesters.

It was impressively stupid the easiness with which she gave away information about herself. Was she like that with everybody, or did she just not consider Wednesday threatening enough to be careful around her? Many had made that same mistake before. Either way she was an idiot in her eyes.

“With how hard is raining out there I really felt like having something warm before class, you know?” The blonde added with a tiny shrug of her shoulders.

“Should I take your order then?” Wednesday pointed at the menú chalkboards behind her, ready for the conversation to be over five minutes ago.

“Oh, yes!” Enid nodded effusively, her eyes quickly scanning the offered options. “I’d like a... cherry caramel frappe, with almond milk and double whipped cream!” She exclaimed, looking around the bar as if she was looking for something. “Oh! And can I get chocolate syrup and rainbow sprinkles on top too?” She added, as excited as a puppy.

Wednesday’s brow furrowed imperceptibly. Hadn’t she just been talking about wanting something warm and being called by the coffee smell from outside? And yet she ordered a cold brew with barely any coffee in it. That girl made no sense at all.

“Are you trying to warm yourself, or planing on going into a sugar-induced comma to get through the winter?” She deadpanned, scribbling the outrageous order into her notepad with her usual cursive flourish. “Because I think it’s still a little early for bears to go into hibernation.”

The girl giggled again, apparently inmune to Wednesday’s unfriendliness. “I’ve always been known to have a huge sweet tooth!” She exclaimed, as if it was something to be proud off. “Besides, it’s really warm in here, I think that compensates my need for something hot.”

“So it seems.” The goth pressed a couple buttons on the register. “That would be $3.49. You can choose a table if you like and I’ll bring it over once is ready.”

“Sure.” The blonde shrugged and paid, looking around for a moment before taking seat at the bar, much to Wednesday’s dismay.

It was way too early to feel this exhausted already. She had her Bloodstain evidence and Criminal Procedures classes in just a couple hours, and she preferred to be wide awake and focused for them.

“I’m Enid by the way. Enid Sinclair.” There it was, another bit of personal information she shouldn’t be sharing around so freely. “And you are?” She didn’t dignified that question with an answer. Her name, much for her annoyance, was displayed on a little silver plaque hanging from her black apron. It wasn’t her fault in the other girl couldn’t read it, and she wasn’t about to make it easier for her either.

Instead of speaking she started the mixer to crush the ice for her drink without puting the soundproof case on, watching from the corner of her eye how the blonde rushed to cover her ears at the loud noise. “Sorry about that, I must be a little dozy still. Opening shift and all that.” She fake apologized, swiftly correcting her ‘mistake’.

“It’s okay, I get it. First and last time I take any classes before ten.” She smiled, brightly as the sun that still hid behind the gray clouds.

“Do you want a paper straw?” The barista asked instead of following the conversation, setting the finished beverage over the counter with a little more force than necessary. Thankfully it didn’t spill, she would hate to have to interact with that monstrosity of a drink any more than she already had. “It really doesn’t do a good job as a substitute of plastic, but I don’t think you want to bury your whole face into a mountain of whipped cream and... rainbow sprinkles to take a sip.”

Well, maybe she would, she certainly looked like it.

Enid giggled, yet again. Wednesday was quickly learning that the other girl had an annoying penchant for doing it, even when she hadn’t been told nothing particularly funny to begin with.

“A paper straw sounds good.”

Wednesday nodded dryly and passed her one, expecting for her to just take it and finally leave. Completely unaware of it, the blonde took the straw and took a long sip of the drink, her eyes practically glowing as her brain processed the over-saccharined mix.

“Oh my God! This is totally the best thing I’ve tasted since I arrived to Vermont! You truly are a wizard at this!”

“Yeah, I’ve been blessed by the gods with the ability to pour ingredients into a mixer and cover them in sprinkles.”

Her sarcastic remark was met with a laugh. “You’re funny.” Smiled Enid, causing another furrow of the barista’s brows.

She had been called weird, crazy, scary, kooky in practically daily basis. She was used to those, she actually even liked them a bit. But funny? Wednesday Addams wasn’t called funny.

A beep coming from Enid’s pocket broke the silence before any of the girls had the chance to say anything more. The rainbow girl took her phone out and checked, jumping up the stoll she was sitting on.

“Oh, crap, I gotta go if I want to be in time for my english class!” She exclaimed with something that sounded a little bit like regret, as if she wanted to stay there with Wednesday.

Preposterous.

“Don’t worry, these for sure will keep me coming back!” She reassured raising her drink (not like the goth needed to be reassured about that for starters). She skipped towards the door and took back her umbrella, inspecting the outside to find out it had stopped raining. “Well, see you tomorrow then!” She waved before stepping out.

“I’d rather not.” Wednesday muttered under her breath as the door closed.

[lieblingspulli]

House Latte: SKZ

w/c: 2.8k

Jeongin x Fem Reader

Summary: Jeongin is really just trying to have a peaceful morning at his favorite coffee shop. But then he meets you. Under weird circumstances.

A/N: Hello hello, I'm back with a sweet fic for my baby boy Jeongin! A good song to listen to is The Mercy of The Wind by Million Eyes. I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist!

SKZ Masterlist

Jeongin has been going to the same coffee shop for years. Even though the JYP building has its own café, he still prefers to make the ten minute walk to his favorite shop that makes a wonderful house latte. He’s not a latte kinda guy, but this coffee shop’s cup of joe is the best drink he’s ever tasted in his life. Every morning, Jeongin walks to work at around 7:30 (unless it's a special schedule) and stops at this shop for the same large house blend latte. Sometimes he comes earlier to have his latte in house. It really is a great way to start his mornings. Chan teases him for acting like an old man even though he’s supposed to be the maknae of the group. 

For the time being, Jeongin has been grabbing one large latte and a large americano to go, due to Jisung’s latest craving for newer flavors (as if he doesn’t just get the same order at different places). He should really just try making it at home at this point, Jeongin thinks. But, he’s not the type to complain, it gives him an excuse to make the trip. Today’s trip is no different. 

Jeongin walked in around 7:50 ish, ordered his usual latte for here, and waited in the same spot he always does: the corner both next to the streetside view, across the way from the counter. He took out his notebook, jotted down some songs he thinks he might want to cover soon before the tour starts, and patiently people-watched until his order number was called. Jeongin really did appreciate that names aren’t called, he could just sit here, with a mask and a beanie, not having to worry about being recognized. He is an idol after all. The good thing is that this coffee shop is also quite secluded from the busier side of the street. 

Today’s weather was miserable, Jeongin had to admit. It was rainy, windy, and cold. Even he struggled to make the walk, and even considered not coming. But Jeongin had a routine to uphold, and that was coffee. He observed the small trickle of people that were coming in seeking shelter and a hot beverage to warm them up. It sounded creepy, but Jeongin just liked to listen to what people ordered. Even though he ordered the same drink every morning, he still considered trying a new order if it struck his fancy. 

Aside from the weather, Jeongin also observed that the cashier card reader is down, and it’s cash only today (which he had no problem with because he always carries cash, a tip he picked up from Seungmin). This meant that many people didn’t get to order what they wanted to, but some eventually came back after a quick trip to the atm. The coffee from here was just that good. As Jeongin sipped on his coffee, he relished in the warmth of the shop and the smell of freshly grinded coffee beans. Nothing beats this. Suddenly, Jeongin remembered he forgot his napkins from the counter. He got up, strolled over, and minded his own business as he took a couple from the pick up counter. However, just as he was about to turn around, Jeongin felt a mild warm splash on his sweater. He cluelessly looked down and then up, not really knowing what to do. His eyes met those of a shy, very pretty girl who was holding a partially empty cup and was covering her mouth, completely wide eyed at the events that just took place. 

Jeongin looked down again at the stain and calmly proceeded to try to wipe off the brown stain, which clearly didn’t work on his cream colored sweater. 

He looked back up and awkwardly stared at the girl. He wasn’t quite sure what to do. She was quite small, but very delicate. He couldn’t stop staring at her. 

“Oh my gosh, I am so sorry! I didn’t see you there and that guy over there just kinda pushed me, I really am sorry. I could buy you a new sweater, I-” 

“Oh no, it’s fine. You said some guy pushed you?” Jeongin felt more concerned for this random girl than his own sweater at the moment. 

The girl blinked a couple times, reeling from the question Jeongin had just asked. “Oh- yeah… The guy in the blue raincoat over there. He was arguing with the barista and I just had to pick up my coffee but he jostled me a bit. He didn’t really push me per se, but yea, I’m really sorry. I could really buy you a new one.” The girl’s face flushed from embarrassment. Jeongin felt bad, partially because some asshat just pushed a girl and partially because it’s always embarrassing to spill something on a stranger. 

“It’s okay, really. I have an extra shirt somewhere in my bag. Did the guy at least apologize?” Jeongin scanned the cafe and spotted the guy still standing a couple feet away from them, arguing with the manager. How could he not hear them arguing before? Jeongin looked back at the girl who was inspecting her half spilled coffee. Why did Jeongin feel so bad for her? He wasn’t even the one who spilled coffee. Jeongin pursed his lips in thought. 

“Let me get you another one then.” Jeongin blurted out. Even he was surprised at this. The girl was just as startled. “Oh, you don’t have to, in fact I should be treating you to one.” She had a panicked look on her face. Jeongin just shook his head and walked over to Mr. Blue Raincoat and the manager. Was he really doing this? I guess he was. There goes his peaceful morning. 

Completely forgetting about his stained sweater, Jeongin walked up to the counter and interrupted the argument. 

“Excuse me? Can I get another coffee for…” He looked back at the terrified girl and she blurted out, “Y/n.” “For Ms. Y/n? This kind man just pushed her and made her accidentally spill some coffee. Clearly.” He motioned towards his sweater. The manager of the shop made an O with his mouth and the guy simply scoffed. 

“I didn’t even push her! I just tapped her, she was in my way. She shouldn’t be in someone’s way when they’re talking.” The guy rolled his eyes, but Jeongin just glared at him. 

“Sir, respectfully, I wasn’t talking to you. I just want to make sure Y/n gets a refill, since you so kindly wasted half of her coffee.” His words were sharp, as was his glare. Jeongin felt satisfied at telling the guy off. He turned towards the manager and kindly went back to his request. 

“If you could be so kind, I think she deserves another one please.” Jeongin smiled and the manager immediately nodded before calling for another coffee from a nearby barista. The guy huffed and turned to Jeongin. Uh-oh. The girl hid behind Jeongin and he tried to look as calm as possible, even though his heart was beating at a ridiculous rate. He wished Chan or Changbin hyung were here to save him right now. 

“So now I got another idiot interrupting me too? What’s your problem?” The guy got up real close in Jeongin’s face. Jeongin stared at the man, unsure about where he should take this. Luckily, the manager returned with Y/n’s coffee and noticed the commotion. Jeongin tried to take a step back but bumped slightly into Y/n, to which he automatically lifted his hands to keep her behind him. He wasn’t sure what Y/n was thinking, but he could take a wild guess and say that it was fear or embarrassment or both. 

“Sir, if you don’t take a step and calm down, we are going to have to call the police. Please step away.” The manager raised his voice. The man just scoffed again and angrily snatched his bag from the floor, muttering something about this establishment being the worst he’s ever been in. He then proceeded to leave. Jeongin took a deep breath and closed his eyes before remembering where he was. Oh yea, Y/n. He turned and whispered, “You alright?” before being met with your wide eyes. You just nodded and kept apologizing profusely. Jeongin blushed before bowing a bit and stuttering out a bunch of “It’s okay” and “Don’t worry about me.” The manager cleared his throat and called the attention of the both of you. You kept bowing deeply and apologizing before taking the remade coffee. 

Before you could walk away, Jeongin slipped off his mask and quickly called your name. 

“Hey, Y/n?” 

“Yeah?” You turned to him quickly. 

Jeongin gulped, you were even more beautiful than he noticed the first time. 

“I was just going to ask if you’d like to join me? If you have the time of course, if not that’s fine too-” 

“Sure!” You blurted out. Your face reddened. Jeongin scratched his neck and his ears reddened too. 

“I’m sitting over there. Let me just change really quick.” Jeongin pointed at the corner booth before leading you to it. He took out his spare gym shirt and excused himself before running to the bathroom. He checked the time just as he pulled the new shirt over his head. 

8:15. His schedule for the day started at 8:45. He’d have enough time right? If he was late, he’d just cite that his alarm never went off. Chan would understand. 

Jeongin quickly checked his hair before walking back out to you, who was now sipping your hot drink and staring at the rain fall. Jeongin took in the sight of you before clearing his throat and sliding into the booth. Just as he sat down and moved his notebook, his knees accidentally bumped into yours. You jumped a bit and blushed. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“No, it’s fine.” You voiced. Jeongin’s face burned. “I didn’t mean to- I mean-” 

“I never asked you for your name.” You interrupted Jeongin’s babbling. He froze before remembering this was his cue to talk. You shyly smiled. 

“It’s Jeongin.” Jeongin’s voice cracked and he laughed nervously. Y/n ignored it, thankfully. 

“I like your jacket. You’re really pretty-” Jeongin paused before quickly correcting himself. “I mean your jacket is pretty. Not that you’re not pretty but-” He quickly spiraled. You covered your mouth and looked down before giggling. 

“You look pretty too.” You blushed and knocked your knee against his. Jeongin tried to keep his composure. Damn, she was pretty. 

“Thanks. I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable.” He apologized and glanced at the rain covered window. 

“No it’s okay. I feel way more comfortable than before. Thanks by the way.” Jeongin smiled at you and quickly cleared his throat. 

“So- what brings you here?” Jeongin immediately regretted that. He sounded like Chan when he said, ‘you come around here often?’ He mentally slapped himself for that. You laughed. 

“I heard about this cafe from a friend and decided to try it before I headed off to the park. You?” You took a sip from your coffee. Jeongin almost forgot he had coffee at all. “I’m actually a regular here. I come here every morning before work for their house latte. It’s pretty good.” Jeongin rambled. He felt more like an idiot by the second. You gently nudged his arm and raised an eyebrow. 

“Can I give you my number?” 

Jeongin stopped talking. Your number? 

“Yes?” 

“Are you sure?” You laughed at his tone. 

“Definitely.” 

“Okay then.” You turned to your bag and took out a receipt and a pen before scribbling your number on it. “Here. Let’s get some coffee, in different circumstances of course, sometime.” You smiled and Jeongin’s brain ceased to work. He took the receipt and stared at the numbers. You started to get up before Jeongin raised his voice. 

“Wait- I have to tell you something.” He panicked. You stopped and tipped your head in response. 

“I’m an idol. I actually work at JYP.” 

“I know.” You simply stated. Jeongin felt shook. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. What? 

“Oh, sorry, not in a creepy way. I just meant, as soon as you told me your name I recognized you.” You stuttered, trying to explain yourself. Jeongin breathed a sigh of relief. Oh. He thought he had a crazy fan on his hands. 

“Are you okay with that? You know, giving me your number and all.” Jeongin tried to speak. You simply snickered and kept collecting your things. 

“Jeongin, if I wasn’t okay with it, I wouldn’t have given you my number. Text me later so we can meet again okay?” You tapped the receipt before getting up, smiling and waving goodbye. Jeongin’s head spun. “Okay,” he whispered as you sauntered out the door. Jeongin stared at the receipt. You had written your name with a heart next to it. He sighed before gulping down his coffee and carefully tucking the receipt into his phone case. He couldn’t wait to text you later and the thought of your confidence brought a silly smile to his face. 

-

A bell jingled as you opened the door to the coffee shop you frequented with your boyfriend most mornings. The smell of fresh coffee beans never failed to make you stop and smell. Unfortunately, your boyfriend was not as patient and nudged you forward. 

“Hey! I was appreciating the smell.” You pouted and crossed your arms. Jeongin just rolled his eyes and pushed you forward by your shoulders. “Babe, you can do that when I’m ordering. It’s called multitasking.” You scoffed and struggled to keep the two of you from walking forward. Eventually you gave up and stopped in front of the counter. The barista smiled and greeted the both of you.

“Good morning! The usual for today?” The barista smiled and Jeongin shook his head. You scrunched your eyebrows in confusion. 

“Not today. I want to order two house lattes please. Large and for here.” Jeongin confidently said. You rolled your eyes. Usually you got a lavender mocha and he got an americano since they removed the house latte from the menu. 

“Babe, that’s not even on the menu anymore.” You stated, as a matter of fact. Jeongin hugged your shoulder and squeezed you into his side before smiling. 

“I know, but today is the 2 year anniversary of when I first met you. I’m sure they can make it again right?” He turned towards the barista. The barista happily nodded and scribbled the order on a blank note. 

“That’ll be right up. On the house.” The barista smiled. Jeongin smugly smirked at you before bowing his head to the barista and saying a firm thank you. You shook your head and let Jeongin lead you to the corner booth. 

As soon as you sat down, across from him, Jeongin leaned forward to place his chin on his palms. You eyed him suspiciously. 

“What now?” You huffed. He smiled and the corners of his eyelids crinkled. You found this quite endearing but you also had a facade to uphold. 

“Remember when we first met here?” 

“Unfortunately, yes. Why?” 

He laughed. 

“You spilled coffee on my sweater and profusely couldn’t stop apologizing, but all I could think about was how gorgeous you were, and still are.” Jeongin grabbed your hand with his free hand and toyed with your rings. “I was a mess that morning. I’m also pretty sure Chan scolded me for being late too.” You smiled at the thought of his older member scolding Jeongin, such a sweet little boy. 

“Babe, you couldn’t even think straight. I just had to give you my number to shut you up.” You endearingly laughed. You rubbed his hand with your thumb. Jeongin pouted and pretended to be offended. 

“That’s all it was?” He faked cried. 

Suddenly, the barista brought two piping hot lattes out to your table. When he set them down, you could see the latte art formed two halves of a heart. You blushed and thanked him. Jeongin didn’t even notice the heart. 

“Baby, look! They drew a heart with cream.” You giggled. Jeongin looked over and formed an O with his mouth. 

“Woah, they really do know us.” 

You rolled your eyes. 

“I would hope so, with how often you drag me here.” 

“Hey, they have great coffee and a great atmosphere too. You should appreciate it a little more.” Jeongin stated before taking a sip of his latte. You took a small sip and tasted the perfectly roasted coffee bean flavor and milk. It was like heaven. Jeongin really did have taste after all, you thought.

 Jeongin looked up from his cup and gazed at you softly, wondering how miraculous you came into his life. Now, he sat here, getting coffee every morning, but this time it was with you. There was no one else he’d rather do this with than with you.