#*emfics

[talesofhawkins]

He's perched on top the counter — arms squeezed around your middle. His unruly curls tickle the nape of your neck while his chin rest on your shoulder.

You were partly listening to Steve, chewing at the rim of your cup as he drones on and on about his date with Brenda. Eddie was a bit too stoned, almost passing out behind you.

He gets clingily when he's like this, using the excuse that you keep him from floating away — keep him grounded. Truthfully, Eddie was a big ole' softie.

Only for you, of course.

The party was quickly dying — the clock ticking close to twelve o'clock, many of the Hawkins social scene have called it a night. A few stragglers remain, scattered about the house.

You could feel her gaze on the pair of you — the familiar feeling of someone watching you has been a common occurrence tonight, ever since she walked in.

Your suspicion proved correct, glancing behind Steve to lock with a pair of striking blue eyes. The blonde is quick to look away, trying to play it cool like she wasn't just caught in the act — again.

"I think Chrissy has a crush on you, Eds."

"That's nice." He yawns, arms hugging you tighter — a delicate kiss to your skin, his face nuzzles into the crook of your neck. "Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter!" You gasp, pulling away to look at him. "Why's that?"

His lips pull into a playful grin, knowing the game you were playing. The two of you have yet to put a label on your relationship, but everybody knew.

It was clear as day, you two were together. Eddie Munson's heart belongs to you as yours does to him. The pair of you didn't need a label, faithful to the other.

That didn't mean it wasn't nice to hear every once in a while.

He turns you to face him — a smile on your lips, arms gliding around his neck, fingers weaving into his curls. "Don't want her." His forehead rest against yours, lips hovering dangerously close, nose nuzzling yours. "Only you, sweetheart."

Your smile tugs wider, stretching ear to ear. You lean back slightly, admiring the man who stole your heart so long ago. "I love you, Eddie Munson."

"I love you." His callous fingers caress your cheek — sweet, auburn eyes captivating, placing you deeper under their spell, staring at you as if you hung the moon and stars.

It was in these moments — when the rest of the world just fades away, leaving just the two of you. Nothing else mattered, only the love between two souls.

Love — extraordinary, rare, and beautiful. So, so beautiful.

"My girl." His soft, plush lips press to your forehead, pulling you impossibly closer to his chest — his ring covered hand grazing up and down your spine.

You don't waste a second, snuggling into him. Yeah, fuck a label — you didn't need it anyways. Eddie was yours, and you his.

[juiceinpanties]

A Proper S'more

Pairing: Eddie Munson/afab!reader

Rating(s): E

Words: ~3k

Tags: smut!, humping, nipple play, semi-public sexual activity, drug use (just some pot), flirting through food, friends to lovers, established friendship

Summary: Your best friend Eddie Munson invites you camping, and while you're reluctant at first, you realize this might be just the chance you need to finally show him how you feel.

Notes: I was rage-inspired by the TERRIBLE take on s'mores they recently featured on Great British Bake-Off. Pretty sure this is the first time the British have inspired hot, sexy smut. Thanks as always to @tonybourdain for her invaluable help as beta, idea bouncer-off-ofer, and just all around wonderful and amazing human.

This is meant as a one-shot, but if y'all want I can add more.

Feedback is always welcome and appreciated and PLEASE reblog if you can! It's how posts spread around here; likes are appreciated, but they do nothing to boost interaction. :)

part 1 | part 2

In case you wanna read on Ao3 instead

“Camping?” You blink at him, confused. “Eddie, you hate camping.”

He scowls and kicks at the ground. “Yeah, I do, but Henderson and his friends wanna go, but their parents want some older kids to go to make sure they don’t set the woods on fire or something.”

You lift a brow, struggling not to grin. “And they nominated you?”

He smirks a little. “Dustin’s mom loves me.”

“Uh huh, I bet.” He's weirdly popular with moms, even your own. You'd think the whole metalhead thing would be a turn off, but they seem to like it.

It works for you, so maybe you shouldn't be that surprised.

“Look, Nancy and Steve are going, but I don’t wanna third wheel it. They’ll be makin’ goo goo eyes at each other all night.” He rolls his own eyes, then gives you puppy face. “Pllleaaase? I’ll be your best friend!”

“You’re already my best friend, doofus.” You sigh. “But fine. I’ll go. Anything to get out of a weekend with my parents’ passive-aggressive bullshit.”

“Fuck yeah!” He lifts your hand so he can high five you (you’re known to leave him hanging) and spends a few seconds jumping around before he comes back to you. “Okay, so, Saturday morning we’re meeting at the lake and then hiking to the campsite. It’s not too far, but far enough to feel like the wilderness. Should I pick you up?”

“Sure,” you say, amused by his excitement. “Anything special I should bring? Besides the obvious.”

“Junk food.”

“You don’t have that covered?”

He shrugs. “I’ll bring some stuff, but I like the way your mind works, snack-wise. That snack mix you brought at Christmas? Blew my fucking mind.”

“My aunt makes that, so I won’t be bringing it, but I’ll come with something good. Now we both have class, and you can’t cut again. I’ll see you after for Hellfire.” You say your goodbyes and head to class.

Maybe camping with Eddie Munson and a band of young miscreants isn't a great idea. The kids you're not worried about, but Eddie? Alone in the dark woods with Eddie? Okay, not alone, but...

What if Nancy and Steve decide to share a tent? Will you be sharing with Eddie? Maybe it's a sign: this is the time to finally make your move. You can roll over in your little shared tent and kiss him and slide your hand down his shorts and—okay, whoa, you're at school. Save thoughts like that for tonight, in bed, by yourself.

Today, math class. Saturday, possibly finally making a move on your best friend.

Eddie picks you up bright and early Saturday morning, and he's more or less dressed for hiking: that is, boots instead of his usual Reeboks, and his long hair is pulled back with one of his many bandanas. He also left his bigger rings at home, which makes him look almost naked.

"Hey!" he says. "Lookin' good, Camper Bob!"

You roll your eyes. "Such a dweeb," you say, but with affection. You're wearing a t shirt and jean shorts, plus hiking boots and a jean jacket. It'll be much cooler tonight, but for now it's warm, and hiking in jeans is always a mistake.

He helps you stow your pack in the back, then you hop in and you're off.

Everyone's already at the lake when you get there, and it's chaos. How can so few people make so much noise?! You give Eddie a Look, and he wades in.

"Alright, alright! Pay attention! Boy Scout Steve is leading this dog and pony show, so listen to him and don't be little shits! We're here to enjoy nature, and you can't do that if you can't keep the volume below a dull roar. So shut the fuck up for 5 minutes and look around!"

You muffle a giggle behind your hand and share a grin with Nancy. Steve is rolling his eyes and grimacing, but he loves this shit. He takes his place at the front of the group and gets everyone organized for the hike. Finally, after what feels like forever, you set off into the woods.

You hike until mid-afternoon, and by the time you stop everyone's tired and cranky. Steve gets people setting up tents and digging pits for fires while you, Eddie, and Nancy organize the food. There are enough hot dogs to feed an army, plenty of chips, baked beans (gross), and...

"Fuck yeah, s'mores!" Eddie says.

"Thought you'd like that," you say. You add another bag of marshmallows to the pile and his grin widens.

"You know, that'll go perfectly with this," he says and pulls a baggie from his jacket pocket.

Nancy's eyes widen a little. "We can't give that to the kids!"

Eddie makes a face. "I don't give kids drugs, Nance. It's for us! The more-or-less grownups."

"I'm in," you say with a shrug. "I need it after today."

"Knew I could count on you, pumpkin patch."

The two of you have this old running joke in your friendship: you are firm in your belief that he's actually a human Muppet, and nickname him accordingly. As a sort of payback (he has a rep to maintain, and "human Muppet" is not it) he comes up with the weirdest, most random shit he can think of to call you. This is a new one.

"What does that mean?" you say.

He shrugs and stuffs the bag away. "I dunno. It's fall. Pumpkins. It made sense in my head!"

"Weird things make sense in your head, Grove."

"That's the truth," he says with an unbothered grin. "Lemme go help Steve with the fire."

It's dark. Everyone's fed. The kids are around the fire telling scary stories. Eddie gives you a subtle nod and the four of you wander off to sample his product.

"This is probably a terrible idea," Steve says as he puffs and coughs, then passes the joint to Nancy. "We're responsible for these kids!"

"They're 14, Steve, not 6," Nancy says. She takes a delicate puff before handing it to you.

"They seem pretty good at handling themselves," Eddie says. The night's turned chilly, especially away from the fire, and he has his arm thrown around you in easy camaraderie. He's gained a little weight recently; still skinny, but not a rail; and it looks good on him. Feels good too, you note as you lean into him.

He takes the joint from you and inhales deeply before handing it off to Steve. He nuzzles your hair. It smells like wood smoke and leaves and under that, your usual shampoo. He tries to keep his eyes off your bare legs, but it's a struggle. "Not so bad, huh? Camping?"

You look up at him with a little smile. "I could learn to like it. Maybe."

You continue passing the joint around until it's nearly gone. Eddie carefully puts it out and adds it to the Sucrets tin he carries, then you head back toward the group. He grabs your hand and pulls you close. "C'mon, it's s'mores time," he says.

"Oh god I could murder a s'more!"

"Did someone say s'mores?" Dustin says.

"Grab sticks," Steve tells them. "It's time for marshmallows!"

He tosses the bags to Nancy and they all scatter to find roasting sticks. Soon you're back, stick in hand, eager for a roasted marshmallow-and-chocolate treat.

Nancy hands you a couple of marshmallows and you drop down onto a rock next to Eddie. "Burnt or bust," you tell him, and thrust your marshmallow-laden stick into the fire.

He laughs and does the same. Your marshmallows catch fire at the same time and you quickly pull yours out to blow out the flame. It's black and brown on the outside, oozy on the inside, and when you smash it between the chocolate and graham cracker, it goes everywhere.

"Oop!" You hastily lick trailing bits of marshmallow off your fingers and down your wrist, and when you look up Eddie's eyeing you, his own stick forgotten in his hand. "What?" you say.

"Nothing." He dips his head back to assembling his s'more. "Nope, nothing at all."

You lift a brow. That was...interesting. You aren't blind: you know Eddie checks you out from time to time. Or at least you hope so, but sometimes you think it's just wishful thinking. That clearly wasn't. Apparently sucking sticky sweet mess off your fingers is the way to his heart. Or at least his boner.

You squish your s'more together and take a bite, and of course chocolate smears on your lips and all over your fingers. You make a little noise of protest and start to suck your fingers clean again, and when you look over Eddie once again can't take his eyes off of you.

"Munson," you say with a little grin. "Are you going to stare or help?"

"Help?" he says, his voice breaking a little. "Help with what?"

"The mess I'm making. And look!" You point at his little marshmallow sandwich. Chocolate is dripping onto the back of his hand. "Silly," you say. You lean in and carefully lick the chocolate off his skin.

He freezes. You licked him. With your tongue. Now you're sucking more chocolate and marshmallow of your hands and fingers, all while looking right at him. Marshmallow. Long, melted strings of white that ooze just like—

No! Nope. No. He is NOT going to think of you and come in the same sentence. Your little pink tongue darting out over your full pink lips, licking the white off with a happy noise that he feels right in the cock.

He carefully sets his own uneaten s'more aside and grabs you. "C'mere," he says, voice rough.

"Eddie—!"

He pulls you into the woods, away from the noise of the kids and the heat of the fire, and pushes you against a tree. You stare up at him, wide-eyed, and he looks down with a frown of concentration between his brows.

"You're kinda evil," he says.

"What the hell are you doing?" you breathe. Your heart is pounding, your cheeks flushed, and you still have marshmallow and chocolate on your fingers.

As though reading your mind, he grabs one of your hands and carefully sucks a finger into his mouth. He swirls his tongue around it, licking and sucking every bit of sweet off your skin, and you feel your knees go weak. You let out a soft moan and lean against the tree to support you.

He does the same thing to each finger and even your thumb, and by the time he's through you're panting and squirming. He rubs his thumb across your lower lip, tugging it a bit, and smiles at you. "Maybe I should get you back to camp," he murmurs. "You look a little...out of it."

"Oh shut up," you breathe. You grab his shirt and pull him in for a kiss.

His hand slips around to the small of your back while the other grips your bare thigh below your shorts. Your arms go around his neck and you're biting and sucking his full, gorgeous lips. "Eddie," you breathe. "Is this why you brought me camping?"

"What, to make out in the woods?" He shrugs a little. "No, but it's a really nice bonus."

You laugh as he kisses you again, his tongue slipping into your mouth and swirling against yours. He presses his hips into you and you slide your knee up against his thighs.

"Mmmm what's that?" you whisper. "A roasting stick in your pocket?"

"Not exactly," he says. He rocks against you just right, so that the bulge of his erection rubs you through all your layers of clothing. You bite down on your lip to muffle a whimper and he kisses you again, harder. "Goddamn I've wanted you forever, baby. To touch you and taste you and make you moan my name."

He rubs his thumb over your lip again. You're looking up at him with big, dazed eyes, pupils blown and mouth soft and swollen. He slowly reaches down to unzip your shorts. "You can stop me," he says.

You shake your head. "Don't stop, Eddie," you breathe. "I've wanted you too. I never—I was afraid to say anything, but—please?"

He kisses you hard and shoves your shorts down to your ankles. You kick them away as he drops to his knees and kisses your thighs. He bites. Sucks. You bury both hands in his hair and try to keep breathing.

He kisses his way up your body, completely ignoring your panties, and pushes your shirt up. He tugs the cups of your bra down and spends ages licking and sucking your nipples. He switches back and forth between them until they're both swollen and aching and you're wiggling against the tree.

"Eddie, please!"

"Please what, princess?" he murmurs, lashing his tongue back and forth across your nipple while he squeezes your tits with both hands. "Tell me what you want."

"My pussy! Please!" you gasp. "I'm so wet! I need you!"

"Fuck!" he rasps. He kisses your tummy. "Whatever you need, baby." He grips your hips and kisses just above your panties. Your head falls back on a quiet moan, but the tree's closer than you thought.

"Ow!" you say, sharply.

"Babe?" He jumps to his feet, but it's too fast. He reaches out to grab you, but you're a little dizzy from smacking your head, and you both end up tumbling to the forest floor.

You lie there a moment sprawled out on top of him, shorts off, tits out, and then you start to giggle. He barks out a laugh and soon you're both laughing so hard you can barely breathe. You move a little, your legs falling to either side of his hips so that you're straddling him, and you're both still laughing and gasping.

You rock your hips, and the next breath he sucks in is entirely different. "Babe—"

"Shhh. I can feel you, Eddie. Mmmmm you're so hard for me!"

He gets over his surprise quickly and grabs your hips again, this time to guide you as you move. "Yeah, princess. All for you. I swear to god every erection I've had for the last two years has been for you." He laughs. "And there've been a lot of 'em."

"Mmmm bad boy," you breathe. You rest your hands on his chest and grind against his erection. The rough material of his jeans makes your panties slip and slide along your dripping slit just right.

"Fuck, baby, that feels so fucking good! Don't stop!"

You lean down to kiss him, changing the angle just right, and he rubs his hands over your ass. You love the feel of his guitar callouses, how soft his palms are. "Eddie!" you gasp against his mouth. "God, Eddie, I'm so wet!"

He groans. "For me, princess? Is that all for me?"

"Uh huh, every drop! Fuck, I need—!" You rock faster, grind against him harder. You can't believe you're just out in the woods humping Eddie Munson's erection through his jeans. You feel wanton and incredible and you know you're close.

"Take what you need, angel," he breathes. "Anything you need. You gonna come, baby?"

"Uh huh!" you whimper. "Oh god Eddie oh fuck!"

"Good girl, fuck, that's so hot, you're so fuckin' hot! Take it, baby, come for me!" he mumbles in your ear, his breath hot and his words slurred by his own need for you.

"Eddie!!" you cry, a little louder than you intended, and the orgasm takes you. He holds you down against him while he bucks his hips to drive you higher and higher.

"Good girl," he says, almost a moan. "Good girl!"

You finally start to come down from it and fall against his chest. He kisses your temple, runs his hands through your hair. You lift your head to give him a long, easy kiss. "Your turn," you murmur.

"Fuck!" he gasps, and you're just starting to work your way down when you hear a familiar voice echoing through the woods.

Calling your name. Then, "Eddie!"

Your eyes widen. "Oh fuck!" You scramble to your feet and cast around for your shorts. Your panties are soaked and sticking to you, but there's not much you can do about it.

Eddie jumps up as the voice gets closer and helps you fix your bra and top, tug your shorts on and zip them up. You're barely decent when the flashlights bob into view and Steve and Dustin appear in the little clearing.

"Shit, there you are," Steve says. "We thought you got lost."

"Nope!" you say. You run both hands through your mussed hair. "No, just ate a bit too much. Needed some fresh air away from the fire."

"Dude!" Dustin says. He has his light trained on Eddie's crotch. Luckily his erection has gone down, but... "Did you piss yourself?!" he says around barely-contained laughter.

"What?!" He glances down and sees the big wet spot you left on his jeans. You feel your face catch fire.

"You did! You pissed yourself! I gotta tell everybody!"

"I didn't piss myself, Henderson!" Eddie says. "I spilled my flask."

Dustin shines the light in Eddie's face, and he winces away from it. "You brought alcohol and drugs on a camping trip with minors? Edward Munson!"

"How did you know about the drugs?!" Eddie says.

Dustin shrugs. "I've got a nose, dude."

"Okay, okay," Steve says. "Let's get back. You feeling better?" he says to you.

You glance at Eddie. "Much!" you say. "Eddie?"

"Feelin' great," he mumbles. "Hate that I spilled my flask."

Dustin just rolls his eyes and turns back toward camp. You fall in next to him while Steve and Eddie bring up the rear.

Steve nudges him. "You really spill your flask?" he mutters.

"Left my flask at home," Eddie says. "But I had to think of somethin'!"

"Uh huh." Steve's trying not to laugh. "That you or her?"

Eddie doesn't say anything, just looks away with a shrug. "I don't kiss and tell, man. But." He frowns and carefully adjusts himself. "It ain't me."

Steve muffles a bark of laughter in the crook of his elbow. "Okay then. Nancy owes me ten bucks."

"What?!"

"We had a bet that you two would hook up on this trip. I said yeah, she said no. I knew I'd win."

"Jesus," Eddie says, but he's struggling not to grin. He got the girl! For once in his life. You glance back at him with a soft, pretty smile, and his grin breaks through.

Yeah, he thinks he could probably get used to camping too.

[iamafalseprophet]

Hi I would love to request just a little drabble or something with Dwayne just being super cuddly and mushy, there's just not enough Dwayne fluff in world. :]

except you, you can stay · dwayne hoover x reader

a/n: my first time writing for dwayne and i love him so much. let me know if you want more chapters added or if you have any criticism. sorry if dwayne’s ooc:(

summary: after being friends with dwayne for a bit (after his family’s roadtrip), the two of you develop crushes on each other. coming over to his house, you decide to confess while hanging out and the two of you cuddle until you fall asleep.

tags/warnings: fluff, cuddly stuff, dwayne crushing hard, gender neutral reader

word count: 1,596

ao3 link

•°. *࿐

Sunny out, you were standing across from a house, looking on from the sidewalk. You hesitantly walked up as you turned your head to check that it was the right house number you’d been given. You looked down at a small piece of paper with an address written, then shoved it into your pocket and pushed the doorbell, hearing a ring that echoed throughout inside.

This was presumed to be the house of your friend, Dwayne. you two had met a few weeks ago, meeting (surprisingly) at a store while your parents both dragged you along for errands. You had complimented him on his shirt, most likely some obscure band, and it went on from there—though, Dwayne wasn’t really much of a talker when you first became friends. He radiated ‘don’t talk to me’ energy, but you couldn’t really help yourself talking to him, as cute as he was. He came around to you eventually, especially after finding out the many similarities between you two.

Snapped back into reality by the sound of a shuffling doorknob, you suddenly straightened up your posture and smiled as a little girl with frizzy hair and glasses answered the door, smiling back at you. “I’m Dwayne’s friend.” You put simply. A confused expression formed on the girls face, she then opened the door quickly and yelled, “Dwayneee!”

In a few moments, the skinny teen appeared out of his room from a hallway, a slight smile upon seeing you (that he tried to hide) as he gestured you to follow him. Your head perked up and you nodded, quickly taking your shoes off and leaving them near the door to be polite; then following him into his room. It was pretty cool—he had lots of plane related things, posters and models and whatnot, and a bunch of CDs you’d probably ask to go through.

“That was your sister Olive, right?” You recalled, observing the various items inside Dwayne’s room before turning to look at him, where he was sitting on his bed. “Yeah,” He nodded, as you then walked over to sit beside him. This is the first time you’d been over to his house, only ever really hanging out in public places like music stores or parks. You may or may not have been trying to reach Dwayne how to skateboard.

“Put on some music, Dwayne. Don’t be so quiet.” You joked, causing him to roll his eyes lightheartedly. “If you think I’m quiet now, you should’ve seen me in the last nine months.” He had briefly explained his vow of silence for the air force academy and him finding out about his colorblindness before, but not a lot else.

He didn’t want to be vulnerable, afraid you would for some reason leave or laugh at him, since you seemed to be his only friend right now—which, he typically didn’t care much about but you proved to be pretty special to him so far.

Dwayne obliged to your request, picking himself up from the bed as he wandered over to his many stacks of CDs and its player, searching for the write one. He picked out one from The Cure, their album Pornography. He knew you’d like that at least, since you’ve both exchanged comments about music artists you both enjoy.

While One Hundred Years started playing, he moved back toward the bed and sat back down next to you. “What do you wanna do?” He asked, not moving to fix his bad posture.

“Talk about ourselves? I dunno. You’re too mysterious sometimes. It makes me want to know more about you.” You answered, falling backwards on to the bed and pulling Dwayne down with you. He stifled a laugh, fixing his gaze on your own as you both laid there, your hands placed neatly on your stomach. “What do you want to know?” He questioned you more.

Dwayne began to become increasingly aware of the space that was between your faces for some reason now, not being able to prevent his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. He didn’t know how to really handle this emotion. His eyes wandered over you as he awaited an answer.

“What would your dream life be?”

You tried to think of a somewhat interesting thing to talk about between the two of you. You bit the inside of your cheek as a sort of habit, eyes tracing over Dwayne’s face as he thought for a moment.

“Being of this house, and being a pilot. But I don’t really know how attainable that is now.”

Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to ask. You almost forgot about the whole situation with him discovering he’s colorblind, but to be fair he didn’t like to really talk about it. Even if it was brought up though, you tried to tell him something could change, encouraging him to keep chasing it.

“Well, it’s your dream, Dwayne. I don’t think that it’s impossible. You’ll find a way, promise.”

You both laid there, facing each other. A smile fell onto your lips and Dwayne nearly hid a smirk that crept up his own. “I will.” He affirmed, your reassurance making him feel a little better at the mention of his colorblindness.

Even as silence fell between the two of you, there was almost a mutual acceptance of it in the glances you shared. You both allowed it to stay, before he began saying something.

“What about you?” “Huh?”

“Your question, your dream life.” He replied to your confusion. Your eyes lit up as you felt stupid for a moment, remembering what you were talking about just before. You thought for a second, and Dwayne secretly loved to see your brows furrowed as you looked up in thought.

“I don’t know really. Probably art school. Something there. Writing, music, painting, acting,” You went on, responding as honestly as you could. You still didn’t know what you wanted specifically, but.. a general idea, mostly.

“That suits you. I’d watch, or listen to, whatever you’d make.”

A small smile was actually there on Dwayne, and you could feel a little flushed just from the sight of it. You then took everything in at once—how close you seemed to be to his face, his little grin, and the topic at hand, your futures. Dwayne made you feel content and happy more than anything, you’d realized. His presence was just comforting, regardless of what you discussed.

He watched you blank for a moment, wondering if what he had said was weird, silently beginning to panic just a little. His worry was put on pause as you pulled him closer to you, wrapping your arm over him and laying your head on his chest.

“I really like you, you know.”

You huffed out, voice wavering slightly. You’d attempted to sound all calm with that line, but you’d be lying to yourself if you tried to say that you weren’t going crazy right now.

What if he was just being nice and you were making everything weird? Poor Dwayne, having to deal with this. Oh God, he just wanted a friend and you had to be so forward. Stupid, stupid—

“I like you too. Really.”

You were now full of both happiness and shock as you just pressed your face into his t-shirt, smiling and blushing wildly against it. Hoping he meant it as much as you did, if that was even possible. You felt Dwayne combing through your hair with his hand, and you just leaned into the feeling, far too embarrassed to look at him in the face right now.

Honestly, your little confession had caught Dwayne by surprise completely. He’s never really felt this way about anybody, not to mention anybody feeling like this for him. He wanted to kick himself for developing a crush, oddly enough. It made him feel. A lot. But, he just couldn’t help but become happier seeing you, the way your lips curved up into a smile or how you laughed or how you looked talking about things you like. His face was resting against your head, free hand rubbing circles onto your arm.

“Thank God. Otherwise this would’ve been really awkward.” You spoke softly after a little, grinning and turning to rest your head on the side so you could actually breathe in more than just the scent of Dwayne’s shirt (though, it’s not that you didn’t like the smell).

He let out a chuckle, closing his eyes in bliss to just sit there a few moments. You lifted your head up a little, pushing yourself up to give him a small peck on the check, seeing his eyes flutter open and cheeks go red.

It was new, but Dwayne found himself liking the cuddly mushy stuff, surprisingly. He’s never given much thought to relationships or dating or all that crap, his focus on training and his vow, in the mindset that it would ‘get in the way’. But, he’s seen that it isn’t everything and that he actually wants you to stay. Here.

“Thanks for being here.”

He spoke genuinely, moving the hand he was tracing your arm with to the side of your face, looking down and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you for encouraging me..” His voice trailed off, a slight embarrassment growing over him as he felt your eyes stare into his.

“Of course, you can count on me.” You breathed out, brushing some of his dyed black hair out of his eyes, smiling as you did so. You two laid there for a while, falling into a midday nap.

[losersclub3000]

reddie really is just. they are just. the. THEE ship, of alltime. like its them. im lying on the groudn

[cyjprojectarchive]

It is so difficult to choose one hateful text because all of them give me angst feelings, but I will ask for "fuck your apologies, you can keep them". You know what pairing I want, bean.

prompt: “fuck your apologies, you can keep them.”group: got7genre: heavy angstwarning: lots of swearingpairing: choi youngjae & im jaebum ; 2jae // 2young are brothers!words: 3881

note: i agree, kelly - the angsty ones were just so good that’s why I decided to use that list! ;-; anyhow, I hope you enjoy! i said I was hoping to finish before you were off to sleep tonight, but oops ;; 

also, i cross posted this on ao3. here is the link to anyone interested in reading it there instead, maybe! other than that, careful with your heart and enjoy! ;)

still accepting requests!! please check this link for guidelines and the prompt list to choose from!!

It was the biggest mistake of his life.

“Are you coming or what?”

“He’s there.”

“That’s the point of the party, dumbass. We’re celebrating the release of his song.”

“It’s not his song,” Jaebum sighs as a hand runs down his messy waves of hair. “Hell, he was mostly harmony for the rest of it.”

Jinyoung doesn’t appreciate his best friend’s attitude for a few weeks now. On a different day, he would have been greatly surprised with Jaebum’s reaction towards the man in question’s celebration of being able to collaborate with a few of his favorite artists. They were all part of a tight knit group of friends, so everyone was obviously excited for this opportunity given to Youngjae—Jaebum was not an exception, seeing as he’s the boyfriend.

But Jinyoung had been seeing… differences between his best friend and his own brother’s treatment towards one another. He couldn’t—for the life of him—pin point what it was. All he knows is that it’s not good.

“Let’s not ruin the experience for my brother,” Jinyoung chides instead, tossing Jaebum’s car keys towards him. Landing on his chest, Jaebum grabs it with a reluctant sigh. He feels the tension of meeting Youngjae in a sea of people in his stomach, but the possibility of Jinyoung finding out what he had done to his brother frightened him.

He knew he was an ass for keeping it a secret. But at the same time, confusion strickens his core as to why Youngjae hasn’t revealed his act of betrayal to any of them either.

Maybe he was too focused on the song, too preoccupied with meeting new people, too in love with this new life ahead of him.

Jaebum grits his teeth at his thoughts, but Jinyoung snaps him back to reality.

“The car isn’t going to drive itself, Jaebum-ah,” Jinyoung notes, already making his way out of the bedroom.

Standing up, Jaebum dusts off his jeans and follows suit. He imagines how happy Youngjae is being the center of attention at the party—something he has forgotten to give him the weeks prior to the younger’s work travel to New York, the very reason he got to work on this song in the first place.

They walk to his car, and Jaebum cannot erase the image of Youngjae enjoying the time of his life with Sanjoy, or Elliot what-’s–his–face; he cannot set aside Youngjae’s bright and carefree laughter echoing in the chambers of his mind. Youngjae excited, thrilled, and happy—all the things that made him fall in love with the man, everything given so freely to someone else instead.

He closes the door louder than usual, squirming at his own actions. Jaebum starts up the car as he looks to the passenger seat and wait for Jinyoung to get in. His eyes wander around the area until he finds something pink, lacy, and frilly peeping under the seat.

“Shit,” he mumbles nervously, reaching as fast as he can. Shoving it further down under, Jinyoung finally opens the door as he’s taken aback by the sight of Jaebum’s face dipped under the car seat.

“What are you—”

“Nothing, nothing,” Jaebum pants, retreating to his place before placing both hands on the steering wheel with an iron grip. Jinyoung raises an eyebrow, lowering himself onto the seat as the door closes. Before any of them can comment anything else, Jaebum begins driving.

The dread doesn’t leave his chest, and he uses all the strength in his upper arms and calves to focus on nothing but the road. How dumb can he be to leave that stupid thing lying around his car? For almost three days?

Jinyoung glances at the driver, feelings of suspicion still evident in his eyes. He’d casually chuck his feet under the seat and feel the object having been shoved down there by Jaebum, but he didn’t want to anger him while driving. Jinyoung will have to wait.

He wishes he can turn back time.

Arriving at the venue Youngjae had rented for the party, Jaebum parks at a close enough area and promptly turns the engine off. He releases his seatbelt, yanks the keys out of the ignition and clicks open the car door.

“I have a question,” Jinyoung says out loud—enough for Jaebum to stop midway. The older nods once, signaling for Jinyoung to continue.

The younger hesitates, setting aside the real question in his head and asks something else: “Are you sure the two of you are okay?”

The immense dread only crushes his organs even deeper, and Jaebum physically winces at the pain. He could confess right now, show his remorse and beg for Jinyoung to help him reconcile with Youngjae—but he couldn’t do that to him. He couldn’t ruin this very moment his boyfriend had been dreaming all these months.

“It’s just a little misunderstanding,” Jaebum tastes the venom of his lies.  “I’m sure he’s forgotten about it now,” he adds, mentally punching himself in the gut for assuming such a selfish thing about his boyfriend to his brother.

While Jinyoung wanted to pry even more, he shared the same sentiments of not wanting this night to be stolen away from Youngjae’s spotlight. He accepts the vague answer for now, and decides to just mention it in passing to his own brother at the party. He might tell him the truth this time.

The party is not very extravagant, just the way Youngjae likes it—a few people from the recording company he is in, some friends from others, and of course the other four people in their group are already mingling about the cozy yet spacious room. Strobe lights dance around the walls and the speakers surrounding the venue blast the very song being celebrated as well.

“Damn, my brother has taste,” Jinyoung ponders to himself, chuckling as he takes in the vibe of the party. Jaebum’s head drops low, already regretting the invitation to come with. Hell, Youngjae didn’t even give him one at all.

“I actually helped him set up the place,” Bambam corrects the older as he approaches, Yugyeom and Jackson towing alongside him. They all hug, with Jaebum the most antsy of them all. He hopes they didn’t notice, as the bass of the music thumps hard beneath their feet.

They all chat mindless topics—but frankly, Jaebum wasn’t as interested. He knew they all saw each other just a few days ago at the usual; he was invited there but he politely declined because he had better—or should he say regretful —things to do that day.

Clenching a fist, he asks to be excused. They all didn’t seem to mind, except for Jinyoung.

“Can I come with? Are you looking for Youngjae?” Jinyoung says.

“No,” the nth lie that has ever came out of his mouth. “Mark—where’s Mark hyung?”

“By the concessions table, I think,” Jackson chimes in, pointing to the direction of a long table covered with different delicacies. Jaebum mutters a thanks, gives Jinyoung a look for approval to leave. Once the younger gives in with a sigh, Jaebum escapes the perimeter of his friends.

He sees a lot of familiar faces, some even greet him passing by. Jaebum has never been a social butterfly, but working in the same field as his boyfriend gave him a lot of connections to the same people—all the more reason to hate himself for what he did, Jaebum thinks as he grimaces.

Their circles are just too connected with one another, one slip up and that whole bond would just crumble to dust.

Jaebum finds Mark, back facing him as the older seems to be enjoying whatever dessert he found on that particular section of the table. Mark turns around, eyes widening at the sight of Jaebum before returning to his usual calm expression.

“Funny seeing you here,” Mark starts, popping the whole cake pop inside his mouth. Jaebum tilts his head slightly, eyes peering over his friend as he treads lightly into the conversation, “What do you mean? If anything, I should be on the VIP list of this party.”

Okay, so much for keeping it casual.

Mark smirks, and it makes Jaebum even more wary of what he actually knows. He offers Jaebum a cake pop but as he refuses, Mark puts another one in.

“Let’s pretend I didn’t hear your arrogance,” he reprimands with a playful tone, “But I’m serious. Youngjae doesn’t want you here, Jaebum-ah.”

“What do you know?” Jaebum asks, straightforward.

“Enough to know how risky it is for you to be here,” Mark answers with a shrug. “He didn’t say anything specific, but he was pretty fucking devastated when he crashed at my place the other day, Jaebum. I don’t know what you two fought over since he literally just got back from New York not even for a week yet, but I haven’t seen Youngjae that wasted off his ass since he couldn’t find the courage to ask you out three years ago.”

The information rendered Jaebum speechless, his voice scratching away at his throat. As much as he wanted to deny any and all assumptions from Mark, he couldn’t—he just couldn’t lie anymore. The more he covers this up, the more his chest is going to explode from the guilt gnawing away at his heavy heart.

“J-Jinyoung forced me to go,” says Jaebum, knowing of nothing else to respond.

“Because Jinyoung doesn’t know what shitty thing it is you did to his precious little brother,” Mark counters, the friendly tone in his voice officially replaced with a cold, harsh one. “We’re all friends, so it’s really hard to be mad at you—I shouldn’t even be meddling in your relationship, but—” Mark stops himself as he crosses his arms and stares at the younger with pointed eyes.

“I’m telling you, and it’s for both of your own good—even all of us. As much as you are Youngjae’s boyfriend, what you did to him negates every right you have to be here right now. So you can either wait outside until the party is over and then talk to him or go home and find the time to confront him.”

Mark’s eyes shift to the left as panic fills them in as well. “Y-Youngjae-yah—”

“It’s okay, Mark hyung,” Youngjae says dismissively. Stiffening in his place, Jaebum hitches a breath as he hears that soft and familiar music to his ears. He decides against turning to see him face to face, but he didn’t need to as Youngjae steps right beside him, with his arm excruciatingly close to his.

“He can be here uninvited if he wants to,” Youngjae continues, and Jaebum feels his glare scorching his face. “It seems to be something he is okay with himself, anyway.”

His eye twitches, feeling the burn of that statement. Jaebum closes his eyes, afraid of what he might say or do in front of the two of them. Remembering Mark’s words, he backs away, choosing to ignore the encounter entirely.

“Yeah, go and walk away, hyung. Walk away and pretend we ever meant something,” he hears Youngjae’s striking words reap his back, ripping into his spine and poisoning his veins. Jaebum’s face grows hotter, as he whips around with hands balled into fists and nose steaming with frustration.

“The fuck you on about, Youngjae? Who’s the person stubborn enough not to talk about it  and refuse to even understand the other side of the story? You’re the one who’s walking away,” Jaebum seethes, the scratchiness of his voice laced through angry words. Fortunately so, the music blared louder than his anger as Mark and the others were quick to hold him off.

“What’s going on?” Jinyoung demands, coming in between the two lovers. Mark has Jaebum’s arms trapped in his, but the latter swats him away convincing him he wasn’t a hazard to any of them right now.

“Nothing, hyung. Jaebum hyung was just about to leave,” Youngjae announces, eyes blurry with hot tears threatening to spill. Mark shoots Jaebum an expectant look, almost forcing him out the door already. The other three stand still, unaware of the tension brewing between their friends.

“What? Why are you kicking him out? Youngjae-yah, what the hell is happening?” Jinyoung continues, brows scrunched up in worry for his brother. Shaking his head vigorously, Youngjae zips his lips as he grabs Jinyoung by the arm and signals for everyone to follow him somewhere else. Other guests have noticed the encounter, most of them leaning towards Youngjae asking him if he’s alright.

Jaebum is left with Mark, but before Mark can tell him off, the younger has already stormed off without another glance.

Jaebum stays inside his car, punching the curve of his steering wheel repeatedly—careful not to target the center as the horn would probably irritate him even more. He didn’t know what else he could do; he couldn’t just leave right now, that’d be giving into what Youngjae accused him of. At the same time, his shame and guilt are on its way to devouring his sanity, and all he could think of to repair himself is to call Youngjae and ask to talk with him.

The party had been going on for a few hours at most, and Jaebum sees people coming out of the door already. He fell asleep for a while, but the moment his consciousness awakens he immediately grabs for his phone. Jinyoung had left him a few missed calls, but that wasn’t his main concern.

He knows how selfish he is becoming yet again , but if he didn’t plead for Youngjae’s time now, who knows when they can ever return to normal anymore.

Jaebum sends a message first, a simple hey, can we talk when you’re done? as he waits for a reply. Knowing he’s still probably talking to a few people, Jaebum shoots Yugyeom a text asking for help. The younger replies with a i’ll see what i can do and minutes after he concludes sorry, hyung. he really doesn’t want to talk to you right now .

Grunting, Jaebum hits the middle of the wheel as the startling noise rings in his ears. It is enough for him to get out the car, enough for him to take a deep breath from the cramped space he has been in for hours , and it is enough for him to go right back in the place and confront Youngjae without hiding in ignored texts and denied phone calls.

Just as he is near the front door, Jinyoung exits out and sees him. His eyes form into slits as his figure walks straight into Jaebum’s path, arms grabbing hold of his shoulders just to push him with much force to send him stumbling away.

“You fucking bastard,” Jinyoung shouts, not letting Jaebum go out of his sight. The older keeps his hand guarding his chest, careful not to make Jinyoung any madder than he already appears to be.

“Jinyoung, please—I know, I’m sorry—let me talk to him, please I’m—” Jaebum swerves just before Jinyoung lands a punch to his chest, and Jaebum sees Youngjae rushing out of the door, calling out to his brother.

“You don’t get to talk to him, you fucking asshole. You don’t even get to see him,” says Jinyoung, tone flaming in rage. Youngjae runs to his side, hugging his brother’s chest as he pleads him to stop. Jinyoung’s eyes soften to Youngjae’s whimpers, but he shakes his head as he tries to squeeze out of his grasp.

“He doesn’t deserve you, Youngjae. I can’t believe how much I trusted him to take care of you,” Jinyoung spats, looking Jaebum directly in the eyes.

“Jinyoung, I didn’t—please just fucking listen to me, I swear I’m sorry,” Jaebum chokes out, his tone wavering and his body wanting to disintegrate every second he sees Youngjae’s tears streaming down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Youngjae. I was an asshole, I was weak, I was devastated you were gone, I was—”

“For two damn weeks, hyung! I was only gone for fourteen days and you couldn’t keep your hands to yourself!” Youngjae snaps, dragging Jinyoung away with him. “I wouldn’t have known if Mark didn’t message me saying there’s an unfamiliar car parked at your place one night. I wouldn’t have known if I didn’t call your phone early in the morning, hoping to hear just your voice but ended up talking to a girl.”

Jaebum takes a step forward, eager to explain his weakness to Youngjae—to do anything anything to turn it all around.

“Don’t even try, hyung,” Youngjae insists harshly, red brimmed eyes constantly wetting his cheeks.

Jaebum feels a shot to his chest as he breaks down with his own salty tears and moves faster to catch up to the love of his life. Jinyoung notices him advancing, so he quickly helps Youngjae get farther away and into another car.

Mark suddenly comes into the scene as he opens up his car and lets the two of them in. Jaebum is forced to stop, and watch the wheels scrape against the pavement as it takes Youngjae away from him.

He blames himself for the mess he made.

The night progresses, and so does Jaebum’s desperation. All of his clothes messily scattered on his bedroom floor, pillows and sheets buried underneath them. He didn’t want to drink nor result to any violence, so all he could do once he got home was take control of the things Youngjae’s presence heavily lingered on: his clothes.

Some of his sweaters were missing, and Jaebum vaguely remembers Youngjae borrowing them to bring with him on his trip to New York—one of which the younger already harbored months before even buying the ticket. Jaebum sits on the edge of his bed, fingers raking down hard across his scalp as his nails dig deep. He remembers Youngjae overly complimenting that black oversized sweater, and one day he just didn’t find it in his closet anymore. When Jaebum had picked Youngjae up from his apartment thirty minutes too early, he catches the younger red handed with his sweater dressing his boyfriend’s body.

Jaebum doesn’t notice the piece of fabric he is holding onto, and as his eyes scan the material, memories of Youngjae flash through his head once again. He holds it onto his lap, the vibrant red color straining his eyes but regardless, he reminisces the time Youngjae video called him at work. Jaebum was on his lunch break, and Youngjae had time to go shopping. The younger showed him a piece of track suit in blue, and Jaebum immediately blushed at the matching aesthetic Youngjae was hinting at. His boyfriend only grinned adorably—the way he always did whenever Jaebum strips himself vulnerable towards him.

He finally sets aside the article of clothing, wipes away the sweat on his forehead and exits out his room. He brings a lighter with him as he goes outside, the freezing air hitting his face with a blast. Jaebum continues to his car, opening the passenger door and grabs something he now finds indespicable underneath.

Taking one last look at the unwanted lingerie tainting his car, his reputation, his relationship , Jaebum spits out the flashbacks from the week before: starting from arguing with Youngjae about one misunderstood flight time which led to them not talking during the whole two-week he was gone which resulted to Jaebum getting himself drunk in a bar he’s never been to, meeting a girl he didn’t even get the name of—and everything became hazy after that.

The bits and pieces that came back to him when he found himself driving back to his apartment with a raging headache were incomprehensible, but as soon as he saw the pink bra left by this unknown girl, things started to make sense—Jaebum wish it didn’t; he begged for his mind to stop piecing things together and making him realize he fell to his weakness, to his loneliness, to his anger.

He lights it on fire as he stands next to the garbage bin. Watching it shrivel up to burnt fabric and yet knowing the consequences it held would stay with him for the long run, Jaebum cries out loud.

He dumps whatever was left, and starts making his way back to his apartment: numb and hollow. He sees a figure walking towards him, and Jaebum had to blink twice to confirm who he was seeing.

“Y-Youngjae,” he breathes out. A box in his hand, and a grimace on his face—Jaebum didn’t want to know what the box contained.

“You don’t have to do this,” Jaebum suggests desperately, holding onto the other end of the box as Youngjae tugs on it tighter. The younger places it just a few inches away from the door, and Jaebum can clearly see his beloved black sweater sitting on top of other things he knows hold memories of them together—memories Youngjae wants to give back.

“It didn’t have to end this way either, hyung,” Youngjae simply states, eyes hooded and avoidant. With shaky, cold hands, Jaebum clings onto his boyfriend’s arm. He whimpers softly, right into Youngjae’s back and the younger attempts prying him off.

“Youngjae, p-please. I’m sorry, please fo-forgive me. I can’t—I can’t do this without you, please—I’ll do anything, I’m sorry please—”

“Hyung, stop embarrassing yourself.”

“I don’t fucking care, Youngjae, please —I’ll do anything for you to forgive me. I was an ass, I didn’t know what I was doing—I was drunk but I caved, I’m sorry—”

“Hyung,” Youngjae deadpans, using everything in his might to push Jaebum off of him. He sees the older’s tired eyes, dry lips, and weakened stance. Jaebum never wanted Youngjae to see him like this , but the chance of the younger leaving him for good made Jaebum lose all sense of individuality.

“Youngjae, I swear to god I’ll do anything, let me—let me prove myself just please,” Jaebum whimpers, hands searching to intertwine with Youngjae’s, just like before. His fingers move around the air, and never find their place of warmth.

“I’m sorry,” he keeps repeating as Youngjae keeps backing away. “Youngjae, I’m sorry, fuck, I’m fucking sorry, please— ”

“Hyung, just go to sleep,” it didn’t sound like Youngjae anymore, but maybe because Jaebum tried blocking out all the noises telling him it’s over, and all he wanted to hear was the opportunity to prove himself worthy to Youngjae again.

“I’m—Youngjae, I’m sorry,” Jaebum croaks out once again, but it takes him a few seconds to realize Youngjae has left him. Out in the cold, with their relationship shoved into a box.

Jaebum kicks it hard, sending its contents scattered around his doorstep—much like the scenery in his room.

He didn’t want to believe he has lost Youngjae; he didn’t want to accept the fact that his ultimate stupidity is the cause of the most important person of his life to disappear.

A buzz interrupts his train of thought, and he chucks his phone out of his pocket and sees the sender, only to grow miserable once more from its message.

YoungjaeFuck your apologies, Jaebum. You can keep them.

[yvonne78153cruz]

Palmeiras e São Paulo ficam no empate sem gols no jogo de ida da final do Paulistão | Jovem Pan

Jogo do palmeiras no campeonato paulista - São Paulo 2 x 0 Palmeiras: veja os gols da final do Campeonato Paulista - 23/05/ - UOL Esporte

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Finais do Paulistão: classificados, datas e mais da edição 2021

Qual é a melhor plataforma de streaming? Comente no Fórum do TechTudo. Netflix ou Globoplay? Jogo do palmeiras no campeonato paulista funciona o Globoplay? Mais do TechTudo. WWDC Efetivado no plantel profissional em Emfechou o Campeonato Brasileiro como o atleta com mais desarmes, comà frente de Gregore, do Bahia, com Na temporadajogou algumas vezes como lateral-esquerdo sendo titular no jogo de ida contra o Delfin-EQU, pelas oitavas da Libertadores e como atacante pelo lado direito inclusive nas duas partidas finais da Copa do Brasil, entrando no segundo tempo.

O camisa 6 fez o terceiro e decisivo tento da vitória palestrina por 3 a 2. ALAN 21 anos 1,61m. Nesta temporada, foi titular contra Mirassol e Santo André. Para isso, precisa chegar aos mesmos 32 tentos de Pedrinho, décimo colocado da lista. Na final, entrou aos 39 min do segundo tempo e fez o gol pouco antes dos 54 min. Nesta temporada, fez três jogos pela Copa Clique aqui Brasil Veja isso e balançou as redes quatro vezes.

Willian é o segundo do atual elenco com 0,24 23 gols em 94 jogos. Ainda emo garoto teve sua primeira chance entre os profissionais, sendo relacionado para 10 partidas foi a campo em três. Jogo do palmeiras no campeonato paulista 26 anos 1,67m. O segundo da lista é o Fluminense, que foi superado pelo Alviverde em todos jogo do palmeiras no campeonato paulista sete confrontos em que esteve na arena alviverde.

Gustavo Scarpa é o atleta com mais jogos em 31 no totale Matías Viña é o jogador de linha com mais minutos em campo 1. Além do revés, foram sete vitórias e seis empates. O segundo da lista é o Fluminense, que foi superado pelo Alviverde em todos os sete transmissao palmeiras e fortaleza em que esteve na arena palestrina. Ambos os jogos foram disputados no Allianz Parque.

Gustavo Scarpa é o atleta com mais jogos em 30 no totale o jogador de linha com mais minutos em campo 1. Foram duas vitórias e três empates, com destaque também para a goleada por 4 a 0, na arena palmeirense, no dia 18 de janeiro deste ano, pelo Campeonato Brasileiro de Nesta temporada, fez dois jogos pela Copa do Brasil Sub e balançou jogo do palmeiras no campeonato paulista redes quatro vezes.

Willian é o segundo do atual elenco com 0,23 22 gols em 93 jogos. Gustavo Scarpa é o atleta com mais jogos em 29 no total — estes dados incluem as partidas da temporada realizadas entre janeiro e março deste ano. Gustavo Scarpa é o atleta com mais jogos em 26 no totalenquanto Matías Viña é quem por mais minutos esteve em campo 1. Atualmente, o time palestrino possui uma sequência de quatro jogos de invencibilidade contra os santistas em sua casa, que começou em Amistosos: 3 jogos — 2 vitórias, 1 empate jogo do palmeiras no campeonato paulista nenhuma derrota 7 gols marcados e 4 gols sofridos Campeonato Brasileiro: 98 jogos — 59 vitórias, 23 empates e 16 derrotas gols marcados e 81 gols sofridos Campeonato Paulista: 49 jogos — 31 vitórias, 6 empates e 10 derrotas 79 gols marcados e 30 gols sofridos Copa do Brasil : 18 jogos — 12 vitórias, 5 jogo do palmeiras no campeonato paulista e 1 derrota 33 gols marcados e 13 gols sofridos Libertadores: 24 jogos — 19 vitórias, 2 empates e 3 derrotas 59 gols marcados e 12 gols sofridos.

Com um total de 2. Willian é o segundo do atual elenco com 0,23 21 gols em 91 jogos. RONY 25 anos 1,67m. Nesta temporada, o Alviverde soma 24 gols em 14 duelos, média de 1,71 por jogo. Gustavo Scarpa é o atleta com mais jogos em 25 no totalenquanto Matías Viña é quem por mais minutos esteve em campo 1.

A série invicta atual começou em Os garotos Gabriel Silva e Newton também atuaram na partida, mas saindo do banco de reservas.

Emficou no banco nas quatro primeiras partidas da temporada. Amistosos: 3 jogos — 2 vitórias, 1 empate e nenhuma derrota 7 gols marcados e 4 jogo do palmeiras no campeonato paulista sofridos Campeonato Brasileiro: 98 jogos — 59 vitórias, 23 empates e 16 derrotas gols marcados e 81 gols sofridos Campeonato Paulista: 48 jogos — 31 vitórias, 6 empates e 9 derrotas 79 gols marcados e 29 gols sofridos Copa do Aprenda mais aqui : 18 jogos — 12 vitórias, 5 empates e 1 derrota 33 gols marcados e 13 gols sofridos Libertadores: 24 jogos — 19 vitórias, 2 empates e 3 derrotas 59 gols marcados e 12 gols sofridos.

Nesta temporada, o Alviverde soma 24 gols em 13 duelos, média de 1,84 por jogo.

[davis2023scarrie]

Palmeiras X Mirassol - Verdazzo

Mirassol e palmeiras resultado - Palmeiras X Mirassol - Ao vivo - Tempo Real - 25 Abril, - ESPN

Com Rogério Ceni e os auxiliares em quarentena após testarem positivo para Covid, o Flamengo estreou na Copa do. O Flamengo largou na frente na terceira mirassol e palmeiras resultado da Copa do Brasil ao vencer o Coritiba por 1 a 0 nesta quinta-feira, Ao vivo.

Disputa de pênaltis

Com 20 minutos, mais um lance de perigo do Mirassol. Ernandes avançou pela esquerda e cruzou rasteiro. Volpi defendeu. Miraszol domínio se transformou em chance aos 29 minutos. Benitez bateu escanteio bem fechado. Miranda subiu e quase mandou para o gol do Mirassol e palmeiras resultado. Aos 32, mais uma chance para palmeiars Tricolor.

Emfechou o Campeonato Brasileiro como o atleta com mais desarmes, comà frente de Gregore, do Bahia, com Emficou mirassol e palmeiras resultado banco nas quatro primeiras partidas da temporada.

ALAN 21 anos 1,61m. Para isso, precisa chegar aos mesmos 32 tentos de Pedrinho, décimo colocado da lista. Na final, entrou aos 39 min do segundo tempo e fez o gol pouco antes dos 54 min. Entra: Wesley Sai: Fabinho. Entra: Lucas Silva Sai: Cassinho. Entra: Ernandes Sai: Diego. Entra: Rafinha Diniz Sai: Juninho. Toque num ícone para ver mais. Saves 0. Shots 0 0 chutes no alvo. Quando mirassol e palmeiras resultado sua dupla de ataque, Rony foi decisivo.

Rwsultado tem sido importante com passes e gols. Em 21 estaduais neste século, dezesseis tiveram um time pequeno entre os quatro melhores, mas o Declaração oficial é o primeiro do interior a alcançar miassol semifinais por dois campeonatos consecutivos desde o Bragantino, em e Você acaba de se inscrever na newsletter do ge.

[markkneal]

Confira os gols de São Paulo 4x0 Mirassol | Semifinal do Paulistão – Arquibancada Tricolor

Palmeiras e mirassol melhores momentos - Palmeiras 1 x 2 Mirassol - Campeonato Paulista rodada 8 - Tempo Real - Globo Esporte

Emficou no banco nas quatro primeiras partidas da temporada. ALAN 21 anos 1,61m. Para isso, precisa chegar aos mesmos 32 tentos de Pedrinho, décimo colocado da lista. Na final, entrou aos 39 min do segundo tempo e fez o gol pouco antes dos 54 min.

Willian é o segundo do atual elenco com 0,23 21 gols em 90 jogos. Momwntos emo garoto teve sua primeira chance entre os profissionais, sendo relacionado para 10 partidas foi a campo em três. RONY 25 anos 1,67m. Mirasssol os mifassol da partida aconteceram no segundo tempo. O resultado assegurou ao time da casa o início palmeiras e mirassol melhores momentos seu quarto ano deste ciclo de invencibilidade.

Emele foi o zagueiro-artilheiro do clube, cinco gols no ano. Vale lembrar que em seus primeiros 12 jogos no clube, ele atingiu a média de 0,58 gol por partida. Este duelo marcou, f, sua estreia no Allianz Parque pela equipe profissional. Emele disputou a final da Copa do Brasil Sub contra o Cruzeiro o Palmeiras venceu por 2 a 1 e, na partida de volta, na Arena Independência, em Minas Gerais, garantiu momenttos taça nos pênaltis. Com isso, assim como Gabriel Veron, também fez sua estreia no Allianz Parque como atleta profissional.

Polivalente, o meio-campista foi captado pelo Palmeiras melores atuava no futebol amador do Rio de Janeiro em — chegou a disputar a Taça das Favelas e o Campeonato Carioca Amador. O duelo também teve sabor especial para o professor. Com um primeiro tempo morno e sem muitas chances neste domingo de pré Carnaval, o Palmeiras foi a equipe que mais dominou as ações e manteve a posse da bola. O segundo tempo começou bem mais dinâmico, com as duas equipes palmeiras e mirassol melhores momentos o resultado.

Nos primeiros 10 minutos de bola rolando na palmeiras e mirassol melhores momentos derradeira, o Alviverde chegou com perigo pelo menos três vezes: com Mo,entos Rafael, Gabriel Veron e Felipe Melo. Palmeiras mojentos Mirassol.

Logo em seguida, aos 28 minutos, o volante Bruno Henrique sai em velocidade e cruza aqui estГЈo as descobertas classe, na medida para Raphael Veiga dar um toquinho de leve na bola e marcar o segundo do Alviverde, o gol da virada! O atacante, por sua vez, fez o que sabe fazer de melhor: balançou as redes ao dominar a bola e chutar colocado de direita.

Gols e melhores momentos para Palmeiras 1 x 2 Mirassol pelo Campeonato Paulista

Gabriel Menino, até os minutos finais do prélio, chegou duas vezes com perigo ao ataque. Técnico: Vanderlei Luxemburgo. Novorizontino, com nove, e Botafogo, com um, ocupam o terceiro e quarto lugares da chave, respectivamente. O segundo, nesta sexta-feira 14foi aberto a sócios-torcedores Avanti e associados do clube. A partida deste domingo marca também o palmeiras e mirassol melhores momentos de Vanderlei Luxemburgo à casa alviverde como técnico do Palmeiras.

Assista os gols e melhores momentos de São Paulo 4 x 0 Mirassol

Sao Melhors FC. Sport Club do Recife. Club de Regatas Pakmeiras da Gama. Esporte Clube Bahia. Botafogo de Futebol e Regatas. Esporte Clube Vitória. Santa Cruz. Fortaleza Esporte Clube. Futebol Palmeiras e mirassol melhores momentos. Liga Espanhola. Ligue 1 - Palmeiras e mirassol melhores momentos. Campeonato Português. Mais Esportes. Futebol Americano. Fique ligado aqui para as reprecussões desse jogo. Uma boa noite e até a próxima!

O Ituano é o lanterna com sete. Posse para o Palmeiras. Gabriel Menino na bola! Os jogadores aparecem no gramado para o início do segundo tempo! No rebote Daniel Borge tentou mais um cruzamento e ganhou outro escanteio. No rebote Esteves bateu cruzado, mas para fora.

[dreamboymatty]

Vodka Kisses

summary: strangers at night aren't always a bad thing.

genre: angst

warnings: a lot of negative thoughts, alcohol

word count: 1'008

a/n: it's late and my head hurts but i felt like i had to write this right now. dan is basically me and this fic is what i wish i was doing and yeah it's sorta shite but w/e

People are laughing and screaming outside and it’s pissing Dan off. He hears their trainers slapping on the pavement through his open window (fucking summer) as they get closer to him, sounding so happy and free. He can practically feel the warm air, even from his bedroom, and,

god

, he wishes he had someone who he could wander outside with, completely carefree.

But, because he’s him, he has no one. Sure he has a few friends but they don’t care about him, not really. He’s simply not interesting enough, in his opinion. The incurable and all too familiar feeling of loneliness is returning and Dan isn’t sure how much more he can take. He needs something, anything, to drown this out.

And then he’s throwing his laptop onto his bed and pulling on his shoes and he’s creeping down the stairs, desperately trying not to wake up his parents. He grabs a bottle of vodka from the cupboard, slipping out the front door into the orange-lit street. He almost attempts to take a sip from the bottle there and then, realising just in time that it is July and there’s bound to be a few people mingling around, enjoying the heat.

Dan walks as fast as he can down the street, heart beating fast, chocolate eyes twinkling excitedly. His grip on the bottle of vodka is getting increasingly tight as he furthers the distance between himself and his house. Preferably, he’d like the distance to be at least a million miles but that’s not really practical right now.

He arrives relatively quickly at the park, unscrewing the cap of the vodka bottle and sighing gently as he finally takes a sip. He blanches at the strength of it but that’s okay. The park is one of the few places in this dump of a city that he actually likes. There’s a stream running directly through its centre and on either side of the stream the ground slopes upwards, like a little valley. Despite being referred to by locals as a park, the amount of trees is actually pretty sparse. But the ones that are there are big and full and comfort Dan in a way he can’t really understand.

He sits down on the top of the left slope, crossing his long, jean clad legs in front of him and gazes upwards. It’s quite difficult to see the stars as he lives in the city but being in the suburbs allows him to squint and occasionally catch a small glimpse of the twinkling dots in the deep-blue expanse of sky.

Out of nowhere there comes footsteps from behind him and Dan’s head spins around, half-expecting to see a murderer or something. Fortunately, it’s far from that. It’s a boy, tall and lanky, with what looks like jet-black hair (but then again it’s difficult to tell in this dim light) in a very similar style to Dan’s own.

“Oh I-I’m sorry, I didn’t think there’d be anyone here at this time, there usually isn’t,” the boy manages to stammer out, looking remarkably like a deer caught in headlights. Dan smiles in what he hopes is a friendly manner and shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about it, mate, I don’t mind. You can join me, if you like.” Dan pats the space of grass next to him, unsure as to that he is doing. His brains seems to be more or less working on auto-pilot as he’s never usually this outgoing. Normally he’s pretty shy, honestly. Then again maybe it’s the alcohol kicking in. The boy cards a hand through his hair seemingly nervous but then shrugs.

“Ok yeah, if that’s alright.” He seats himself next to Dan, accidentally brushing shoulders as he does so. Dan feels a shock of electricity shoot through his body and he frowns, jerking away slightly.

“Vodka?” Dan offers, holding up the now half-empty bottle. The black haired boy, which may actually be dyed on closer inspection, nods gratefully, taking the bottle from Dan and downing a considerable amount. He barely reacts to it, which is surprising due to how strong it is. Dan raises an eyebrow. He must be pretty good at handling his alcohol. He takes the opportunity to look at the stranger properly noticing his strikingly blue eyes and incredibly pale skin. He’s very pretty, the kind of pretty that intrigues Dan in all the right ways.

“Oh I’m Dan, by the way.” Dan takes the bottle back, setting it on the ground between his legs.

“Phil,” the boy, Phil, says with a small smile. His lips are cute, Dan thinks, gazing at them before tearing his glance away, the sober part of his brain warning him that he’s going to freak the boy out. He can’t help but shift a little closer to Phil, though, resting his shoulder against the other boy’s.

Phil turns his head, presumably to speak to him and then stops suddenly. Dan turns, confused, and comes face to face with those gorgeous blue eyes. He hadn’t noticed that they were at such a close proximity and obviously Phil hadn’t either. He thinks that he can almost see Phil’s eyes flicker down to his lips for a second but he can’t be sure. The vodka is almost gone now so he feels confident enough.

“Were you just staring at my lips?” Dan whispers, feeling oddly warm and tingly. Phil exhales slowly, his warm breath hitting Dan’s face and smelling strongly of cheap alcohol but Dan only has himself to blame for that. A variety of emotions seem to flit through that pale-skinned boy’s eyes, ranging from shock to fear to, just possibly, lust. Phil nods slowly and it appears that Dan has lost any ounce of self-control because he’s leaning forward and pressing their lips together and it feels amazing. They’ve only just met and they’re sort of tipsy but as Phil places his hand on his waist to pull them closer together, Dan couldn’t give a fuck about all of that. He doesn’t want this to end

[talesofhawkins]

I would like for you to envision something adorable with me, okay? Let's go on the journey together.

Let's say you are a customer of Eddie's, right? The first note he received in his locker from you was a few weeks into senior year — your first, his third. The first dealings of many between the two of you, as time goes by the deals become more frequent, last a bit longer.

A friendship blooming, growing into something exquisite — but the never ending interactions only happen in the forms of deals. Never a date, or a phone call.

Stealing glances, inches apart — never to touch, never to taste. Not for a moment, no none at all. The spark extinguished.

A night out with friends at the annual fun fair — hands in your jacket, lips turned up in a small smile, listening to your friend ramble about her newest crush as you wait your turn to ride the ferris wheel.

You didn't feel the gaze of loving, auburn eyes admiring you from a far. Eddie clocked you in the ticket line — a few groups behind you, he fought the urge to run up to you. To merge groups, ultimately leading to the two of you going off by yourselves.

Alas the scared, little boy inside kept him at bay — fills him up with insecurity and hesitation, settling for glimpse of you.

He keeps an eye out for you, listening for your voice or laugh.

He watches from the booth — Jeff and Gareth battling it out at balloon darts, trying to see who could pop the most. His heart thumps, faster and harder against his ribs cage as if trying to escape, trying to get to you.

His heart wanted nothing more than to burst from his chest, run towards you, mesh into your own heart, returning to its rightful place.

Eddie couldn't fucking take it anymore — it was time for him to go home.

He walks up behind you — quietly, a smirk on his lips. His callous palms cover your eyes, body melding with yours as his chin rest on your shoulder.

He's about to whisper in your ear, only for you to speak first. "Eddie?" You ask, baffling him. You whirl around to face him, smile crinkling your sparkling eyes. "You're here!"

His smile mirrors yours, hands finding refuge in the back pocket of his ripped jeans, shoulder shrugging as his feet sway. "Yeah, came with the guys."

"Think they mind if I steal you for a ride on the ferris wheel?"

He doesn't bother looking back towards his friends, waving them off as he mumbles about them under his breath. "Lady's first." He gestures, holding out his hand to help you into the ride. It goes around once, twice, stopping at the top on the third go. You slide closer to Eddie, admitting your fear of heights.

"I got you, sweetheart."

He slings his arm around you, pulling you into his side as close as possible. You nuzzle into him, looking up at him — gaze stuck on his lips, soft and plush.

Tempting. Oh, so tempting. And, to put simply, you just couldn't resist any longer. You lean in, hoping he'd get the hint. Boy did he, smashing his lips to yours.

He pulled away once out of breath — forehead smushed against yours, nose nestled with yours, matching smiles as his thump caresses your cheek. The spark blossoms, igniting into a wildfire. Another kiss, parting at the jerk of motion as the ride starts to descend. "Win me a teddy bear, Eds?

"If my girl wants a teddy bear, she gets a teddy bear."

And he most certainly does win you that teddy bear — after the fifth attempt, at least.

[talesofhawkins]

You and Eddie, silly grins on your faces, high and feeling groovy as you dance around the trailer, playing and singing to that one scene from Dirty Dancing.

"How you call your lover boy?"

"Come here, lover boy!

You collapse on his bed, smiling and giggling as he cages you in, peppering kisses to your face. His hand cups your cheek, leaning up to admire his girl.

He kisses you delicately, but fueled with passion and love. You pull away first when a light bulb goes off in your head. "LET'S DO THE LIFT!"

"Absolutely not!" He states, sternly.

Okay, that's all. Have a wonderful night. Bye

[talesofhawkins]

the tortured munson department presents | you okay, honey?

— or simply, entering Eddie's bedroom. no towel, nipples perked, skin glistening, causing his brain to short circuit. eighteen plus, no minors allowed. 18+ — a. notes: apologies for this taking me so long, it was a crazy turn of events and a long weekend, but here we are! feedback is much appreciated.

He's lounging — leaned back in the armchair, legs spread, unruly curls bobbing to the beat in his head. His eyes shut, fingers shredding in an epic rendition of Metallica's hit Master of Puppets.

His door creaks upon opening, gaining his attention. His gaze dark, bulging out of the sockets at the sight of you, waltzing into his room without a care.

No towel, nipples perked, droplets dripping down bare skin. A sight of beauty, gifted by the gods — truly marvelous, and for his eyes only.

His jaw slacks, drool seeping from parted lips — his cock twitches against the rough denim of his pants, cursing into the silence.

Time versus desires, a quarrel, battling the craving to touch, to taste, fuck until the only thing those pretty lips could do was beg for his cum.

He couldn't. Wouldn't, rather, refusing to fall prey to this disguise of feign innocence. Not this time, anyways. The minutes spiral, conspiring against him. His appetite too much, standing to flop down onto his bed, desperate for relief from this treachery.

Meanwhile, an impure grin forms on your lips — a mischievous sparkle behind a naive gaze, rummaging through the dresser in search of a sinful, little number. The soft skin visible beneath sheer lace, ass left bare. A thong, one he treasured.

You took pleasure in the deception, teasing him. You enjoyed the way he turns into a rugged beast — frantic to unbutton his pants, shimming them down to just pass his pale thighs. His cock springing to life, slapping his hairy trail and leaking for you.

He'd pat his lap, begging for a quickie. Eddie would insist there's plenty of time, only for you to deny him, giving him that agonizing speech on the importance of being on time, setting a good example. You'd walk him to the van, giving him a quick kiss to the cheek — leave his balls aching.

His night ruined, plagued by the images of you and all the things he plans on doing to you, generating him to wrap up faster.

You bend over, giving him a perfect view of your drenched folds. Your lips curve into a satisfied grin, spinning to discover Eddie's face buried in his mattress. The poor thing, so desperate to ignore the corruption of your little act.

"You okay, honey?"

His response is muffled, ring covered hand flying upwards to give a thumbs up. Your arms cross in a huff, trying your best not to giggle.

"You act as if this is the first time you've seen me naked."

His curls launch up, turning to glare at you. "You're being very rude, sweetheart." The grin on your face pivots, turning sinister. He gulps, tongue darting from his mouth as you crawl onto the bed, sitting in his lap. "Can't handle it, big boy?" You tuck some of his hair behind his ear, temptation hovering, lips inches apart.

His for the taken.

He leans in, forgoing his plans — lips brushing past yours, smashing onto your cheek. "Oh, would you look at the time!" You gasp, leaning away from him with a pout of your lips. "Mustn't be late for Hellfire." You task, pecking a gentle kiss to his nose.

"I fucking knew it." He groans, generating a giggle from you as you climb off his lap.

You grab his leather jacket off the chair, skipping out of the room and towards the trailer's door, waiting for him. It takes him a few minutes to emerge from the room, sneakers striding to stand in front of you — a scowl on his face, hands on his hips.

You smile at him, motioning for him to spin and helping him into his jacket. When he turns around, his eyes give him away — soft and warms towards you. "You're killing me, sweetheart." His arms lace around your waist, pulling you to his chest and planting a kiss to your forehead. "Love you, baby."

"Love you, pretty boy."

You stand on the porch, watching his van drive out the driveway. His eyes haven't left your figure, allowing another wicked idea to form. His shirt flies up, flashing him your bare chest. The van screeches to a halt — the taillights coming closer, returning to his parking space. He leaves the engine running, snatching you up and throwing you over his shoulder.

The first and only time Eddie the Banished, dungeon master of The Hellfire Club was late to a campaign.

[talesofhawkins]

Eddie meeting southern!reader after finally graduating high school, and he falls head over heels in love. She introduces him to country music and at first, he's skeptical.

After dating a few months, Eddie finds himself belching out the lyrics with you on nightly drives — the windows rolled down, both of you laughing and smiling as he sings in the best country accent he can manage.

Years down the road — a ring on your left finger, the two of you saving up enough money to purchase your first home. An adorable, little fixer upper on the outskirts of town, tucked away down a gravel road. A porch with a couple of rocking chairs, and the perfect view of the yard. A good size yard, large enough for some kids to run and play with their pets beside them.

In the back, there's a barn — excellent for fixing up cars, building custom furniture for the house and jamming out with the boys. It's the place he spends his Sunday's in.

It's where he finds himself now, under the hood of an old pickup truck. The radio plays in the background, when a song comes through the speakers. It's a song he hasn't heard before, but it was special.

A song dedicated to you. He hears it, and he sees your face. The song in which he'd learn on the guitar to play for you — a song he'd put on, just to grab your hand and dance with you.

She don't know she's beautiful (never crossed her mind)

She don't know she's beautiful (no, she's not that kind)

She don't know she's beautiful

Though time and time I've told her so

Eddie tosses the wrench in his tool bag, taking a sip of the lemonade you brought him earlier that day. He takes the bandana from his back pocket, using it to wipe the sweat from his forehead as he leans against the doorframe.

The smile on his face is warm and loving as he watches you.

You're kneeling in the flower garden, hair pulled back in a ponytail, hands stained with grim and dirt — Archie by your side, keeping a watchful eye. He showed up two years ago, a puppy back then. Too sweet and cute to let go, keeping him. You take the ratty shirt in your hand, lifting it to wipe your face and revealing your growing belly.

You look back at him, a talent of yours — always able to feel his gaze on you. Your own smile forms, blowing him a kiss and causing his heart to hammer in his chest.

Eddie's not sure what luck he managed to secure in this lifetime to find you, but he's thankful to the heavens above for you. His sweetheart, his wife. His everything.

[talesofhawkins]

another flirty, little blurb. all minors please keep scrolling, this blurb is for people over the age of eighteen. this is 18 plus. no minors allowed. i hope you like the blurb, and let me know whatcha think. don't ask me where this came from, it just kind of happen.

He was on the brink of insanity, completely unhinged. There you were, sitting on the loveseat across from him, a joint pinched in your fingers — in nothing, but that damn shirt.

It was one of his — an older one, brought a few years back at a Metallica concert. It was his first concert, Wayne surprising him for his birthday. The memory is precious, one of few of Eddie's happy memories. Seeing you in that shirt? Makes the memory that much sweeter.

The soft, plushy skin of your thighs looking so inviting, so enticing. You shift a little, moving your legs to a more comfortable position — your shirt rides up, giving him a sinful, little glimpse of your lacey white panties. His fucking favorite.

Torture. Pure damn torment.

Those magnetic, hazy eyes meet his. You smile — one of those warm, lazy kind of smile. So fucking adorable, even more so when you're stoned. How's that possible, Eddie doesn't know, nor does he care.

He feels lucky enough to be in your pressence.

Eddie watches as you glance down to his crotch — that angelic smile turning into a wicked grin, sucking your bottom lip into your teeth.

A wave of pleasure flows in his veins, traveling down to his harden cock, making it twitch.

Your eyes snap back at him, adjusting your hips slightly — once again making your shirt ride up. His eyes are pleading, begging for mercy.

Begging for a touch, a taste.

You simply giggle at him, turning your attention back to Nancy seated on the floor in front of you. Eddie groans, loudly, leaning his head back against the couch. His eyes close to keep him from being tortured any longer.

He'd get his revenge — his sweet, sweet revenge. The pair of you knew whose bed you'd be in tonight. The moment he walked into Steve's movie night, finding the other instantly.

Meeting in the middle of the living room, tight embraces — faces nuzzling into necks, melting into the other. His lips delicate against your skin, staking his claim. As if he hasn't captured your heart, as if you weren't already his.

"She's torturing Eddie again." Robin mumbles, mouth full of honeycomb cereal as she watches the scene unfolding in front of her from the kitchen.

"I give him an hour, tops." Steve states, hopping up on the counter. He twists off the cap, tossing it aside and taking a sip of his beer. Robin hums in agreement, nodding along as she shovels another spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

[talesofhawkins]

You never fight — once, maybe twice in the months you've been together. It was minuscule, idiotic even. The results? Detrimental.

You stormed out the trailer, Eddie nipping at your heels. With your fingers on the handle, you glance back at him. He stands in the doorway, a freshly lite cigarette between his lips, arms crossed as his chest heaves. You silently beg, misty gaze praying for a sign — a reason to stay.

No sign would come.

Snuggling onto your couch, a dreadful feeling picks at your skin, poking and prodding until it pierces the surface. A trickle of blood drips to the floor — a warning.

You choose to ignore it.

No word from Eddie, not even a phone call. At first you thought he required space, just some time to simmer down. You had faith, longing that promises whispered in the dead of night were true.

The days turned into weeks — you wait, anticipating his triumphant return.

"What's up, Buckley."

A flutter in your stomach, a smile to your lips, a pounding in your chest. You whisper his name, spinning on your heels. Your mouth goes dry — smile vanishing, lashes wet as a shiver runs down your spine.

He returned to you — returned with her.

"She's just a friend, babe."

You believed him, too, convinced yourself he meant it. Told yourself over and over that it was all in your head — that you were being ridiculous.

That he loved you, only you.

Ducking between the shelves, your hand flies to your mouth to hold back the sobs. Maybe this was all just a bad dream — a nightmare, any minute now you'd wake up tangled in his sheets. His hand on your cheek as he sooths you, reassuring you it was only a dream.

That he loves you, and only you. His sweetheart.

"Ya'll find everything okay?"

Robin — your saving grace. The cue this ordeal was almost over.

"I almost forgot!" The jingle of a chain — the shuffling of boots growing closer and closer. Tucking your knees into your chest, eyes squeeze shut, quietly calling upon any force to let him not see you.

"Sweetheart?"

A pool of blood beneath you — the pieces of your heart swirling in the cherry red fluid, lifeless. She utters his nickname. The nickname bestowed upon him by you, the final blow. "Just go." A whimpering plea on trembling lips, curling further into yourself to appear as small as you felt.

A beat of silence, the clearing of his throat — the retreating of boots, and the swing of a door. He was gone, abandoning you with the pieces of a shattered heart.

[talesofhawkins]

Where I Can't Follow — Eddie Munson x Best Friend Reader

summary: the tale of two best friends, trying to navigate through their unresolve feelings for one another.

author notes: here we go, my first fic. this is a rewrite/redirection of a story I wrote a while ago. I didn't like it very much, feeling like it could be better. I decided to keep it in my drafts until I got my creativity back, and we are back baby. I hope you enjoy the first part of this story, and please let me know what you think.

He sat in lawn chair — arms crossed, muttering under his breath while his uncle chats with his friends. His argument was strong, but Wayne insisted thirteen was too young to stay home alone, thus dragging him across town to his buddies surprise party.

"You'll have fun, boy. Now quit yapping and get in the damn truck!"

Fun, ha. What a joke! A perfectly good Saturday — wasted. He could be at the arcade, trying to beat the high score in Space Invaders or sneaking into the movies to see the new Dawn of the Dead. Instead, he was stuck here, bored beyond belief.

He groans, loud enough to earn a knowing look from his uncle. He sighs, abandoning all hopes — his eyes close, slouching down in his seat, letting his mind drift away until the world eventually fades.

Eddie was nearly asleep when he heard it — this sweet, joyous, beautiful sound that was music to his ears. He leans up, scanning the yard, lips curving into a boyish grin.

The melody happens again — louder now, closer. The glass door slides open, stealing his attention in time to see you run out the house. His gaze follows you, watching you prance over to the man at the grill. Your father, he presumes.

You wore denim overalls — a baby blue shirt, matching the scrunchie around your wrist and a white cardigan tied at the waist. You were barefoot, and really pretty.

A rare type of pretty — damn near perfection. The kind of pretty that could awaken a young boy's heart, haunts him forever. Infects him, consumes him. It comes to him in your dreams, only to disappear as him wake up. You grow to miss it, crave it, search a thousand lifetimes for it. If you're lucky enough to find it, you pray to all the heavens you never lose it because nothing will ever compare.

His eyes stuck on you, lingering as you skip over to a tree covered in russet leaves. He'd later lean it's an oak tree, and that it was planted by your father when he was a boy. You sit down, legs crossed — back leaned against the rough bark. You open a book, flipping through the pages until you reach one with a folded corner.

Eddie stands to his feet, tongue darting out the side of his mouth. He looks down at his outfit, sweaty palms quick to tuck in his shirt. As Wayne says, a man must always look his best in the presence of a pretty lady.

He swallows his nerves, hyping himself to build up the courage he needs to introduce himself. It's now or never. He walks over to you, standing in front of you — only you're so lost in the book, you don't notice. He takes it as an advantage, noticing every detail even the smallest.

Like the small, faint scar on your forehead, nearly unnoticeable unless someone looks at you — really looks at you. How your eyes shimmer when the light reflects off them at just the right angle. How your brows furrow in concentration sometimes as you read and how you lick the tip of your finger when you turn every page.

"Are you going to tell me your name or just stare at me?"

He froze, eyes wide — cheeks flush pink. He stammers, looking down at his feet as he rubs the back of his neck. "Eddie, I um, I'm Eddie." He clears his throat, unable to look you in the eyes. "What's your name?" He ask, and you tell him yours.

"That's — That's a good name!"

He chews on his bottom lip, swaying on his feet and fidgeting with his jacket sleeve. He's unable to form words, mentally cursing to himself as Eddie just stares at you.

You just giggle, staring up at him through the your lashes. He laughs nervously, the collar of his shirt feeling extremely tight all of a sudden — he fidgets with the oversize ring on his finger.

By some miracle, fate seem to be on his side — his face lights up, catching a glimpse of the title of the book. "Lord of the Rings!" He beams, gesturing to it. "Which are you on?"

"The Two Towers, it's actually my favorite." You respond — voice delicate, looking down at your lap and tucking some of your hair behind your ear.

"That's my favorite, too!"

"Yeah!" You chirp, glancing back up at him. "Would you like to read with me?"

"Hell yeah I would!" Eddie doesn't waste a second, taking a seat next to you. The smile on your face stretches ear to ear, causing your nose to crinkle.

The two of you stayed under that tree for hours, taking turns reading and acting out your favorite parts. "Don't go where I can't follow." Eddie recites, eyes on you.

When reading grew tiresome, you resort to doodling. You challenged each other to a drawing contest — winner gets to draw a tattoo on the other, and that's how Eddie ends up with a daisy drawn on the back of his hand.

He asked you to go easy on him, give him something cool like bats or a dragon, but when you gave him that wicked grin — Eddie knew he was in trouble. He'd groaned, complaining the whole time about how daisies are so not metal.

You even made him hold up the back of his hand when your mother asked to take a picture of the pair of you. Truth is, he absolutely loved it — didn't wash his hands for weeks until eventually the tattoo vanished from his pale skin.

His uncle practically had to drag him out the door and to the truck as Eddie rambles about coming back as soon as he could. "If he won't bring me, I'll steal the truck!"

You stood in the doorway, nodding and laughing at his antics. Waving goodbye, the two of you wore matching smiles and longing in your eyes. Eddie kept his eyes train on the rearview mirror, watching your house disappear in the distance.

When he got home, he rushed to his room — almost knocking down Wayne in the process. He sits on the side of his bed, fingers gliding over the polaroid. Opening his bedside table, he takes out his copy of Lord of the Rings.

Page after page, he flips through the book until he reaches a specific page. "Don't go where I can't follow." He reads, reminiscing — a soft smile on his face, sighing Eddie closes the book.