#But regardless it did not feel like a dream; everything I saw was at the right time of night and I vividly remember

[theres-whump-in-that-nebula]

Ok so they play “Record Player” at my work and I love it so much that I never interrupt it with the mic. I just listened to it with headphones on for the first time and HOLY SHIT I feel like my soul is on the brink of leaving my body. Some astral projection shit right there

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Sunday, Boothill, Welt, Gallagher, Blade, and Dan Heng react to his shy gn crush giving him a love letter before leaving quickly?

Sunday:

Is calm upon receiving the note and still just as calm after reading it.

He knew this day was coming, you weren’t necessarily subtle about it either but he didn’t want to bring it up to you, knowing that if he did you’d loose all the confidence you’ve mustered up in order to give him the note.

He could read you like an open book and yet your sweet, genuine words touched his heart regardless. You held his heart in your hand and you weren’t even aware, he’ll be sure to rectify that soon enough.

While he wishes you could’ve told him in person, however he’ll gladly suffice for a note instead, seeing as it was the closest he’ll get in regard to an official confession.

With his place in your heart ensured, Sunday could finally use this as an opportunity to spoil you to your hearts content. Anything and everything you could ever possibly want or wish for was going to be yours if he had anything to do with it.

Your wish was his command and he’ll gladly rid himself of any competitors for your heart, all the while shielding your eyes from his underhanded tactics in doing so.

Welt:

You make this old man feel as though he were young and lively when you gave him the note and running off before he could say anything.

He felt as though he was in a romcom that he saw once…not that he was complaining.

Your note was so sweet and thoughtful that the more he continued to read, the more he began to find even more reasons to love you, for who you were was the most precious and perfect person in his life.

He didn’t want to confess first incase that he misread your past interactions for something else, but the note you’ve given him proved that his initial thoughts were correct, and that in reality he was just insecure and felt silly of the idea that someone his age was still experiencing things such as a crush.

But it was so much more than that and Welt knew it.

The only question left was, when was it going to be his time to confess?

Dan heng:

Thank god he took the note back to his room while he did because had he read it beforehand, otherwise his fellow trailblazers would’ve seen his face go the reddest it’s ever been in history.

He reads and re-reads your note to make sure that he wasn’t tricking himself but no, it was a real physical note from you confessing your crush on him.

Dan Heng felt as though he needed to sit down and think this through before he did something impulsive and stupid.

His little dragon noodle brain was telling him that he should seek out the most beautiful of all treasures, whether that be literature, clothing, jewels, and give them to you in droves in hopes of impressing you into being his mate.

Dan Heng dismisses it quickly as it came as it’ll probably overwhelm you and that was the exact opposite of what he wanted, and with that it was back to the drawing board to brainstorm.

Gallagher:

The moment he reads your note, he’s already got ideas on how your first date should go.

He’s not pissing about, not when you’ve given him the opportunity to treat you like he thought you should be treated; like you were the most priceless thing in existence because to him you very much were.

So why should he hesitate and potentially miss his chance to be with the person of his dreams?

He knew your favourite drink like the back of his hand from the countless times he’s made in perfecting it to your liking, so that wasn’t going to be as much of a problem as asking you out on a date was.

But he’ll figure something out, even if he’d have to improvise on the day. It would’ve been worth it if it meant having you by his side by the end of it.

Blade:

He’s not use to this sort of thing as love notes were a foreign concept to him.

He understood the intention and meaning behind it but he wasn’t the one to receive such notes.

So when you dropped off the note with him and ran the faster he’s ever seen you with a flustered look upon your face, Blade instantly knew then and there what the note was solely from your expression.

He wasn’t stupid so why he feeling a fluttering within his chest upon making this revelation?

It wasn’t painful nor caused his body any ache nor strife, if anything the more the warm, euphoric feeling spread throughout his body, the more his daily pains become an after thought in light of a possibility that you might actually like him back.

He always thought that the stories and blood -both his own and others- that stained his hands would run you off within a moments notice. Instead you choose to grasp his hands gently, wipe away the blood unfazed and still be able to look into his eyes after all that and smile.

You were his and Blade would be damned if he allowed anyone to encroach on you, regardless of their intentions. You weren’t to be taken from him for he’s already been through a lot and you weren’t going to be another name amongst the lost.

Boothill:

‘What’s this? Finally come to confess to me have you?’ He’d tease but would be genuinely surprised when he opens the note and finds that it actually is a confession note.

His crush? Liking him back? Bullshit!

He may act confident and self assured but he was in heavily in denial to begin with, but the more he re-read the note, he could tell that you were being serious. Which was a drastic change from your typically shy and anxious demeanour.

He even had to pinch the skin of his face to make sure that he wasn’t dreaming this up and that you were genuinely in love with him.

Sad he knows, but would you really be willing to date a man who wouldn’t be able to feel you expect from his face? Yeah he didn’t think so.

And yet you’ve proven him wrong by writing him a love letter confessing how you didn’t care about that, and how you loved him regardless if he could feel you or not. He was still someone you cared for deeply at the end of the day, never less someone you happened to find attractive. You weren’t shallow and Boothill knows this.

Not only that but he was genuinely scared that his best wasn’t going to be enough for you, sweet, kind, caring you…However Boothill recognises that hesitating and fearing the what ifs weren’t going to help him in wining your heart true and proper.

[happy74827]

Shadow Knight

[Joe Goldberg x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: One thing to know about Joe, is that he’d do anything to protect you. Regardless if you want him to or not.

WC: 2776

Category: Hurt/Comfort [TW — Joe]

Finally wrote a Joe Goldberg fic. My friend begged me to write him so I did (you’re welcome @summerrivera777777). I really don’t know what else to say… so enjoy!

『••✎••』

You were his. That’s all Joe cared about in his head. He thought of you and only you.

He remembered that night after your first kiss. You had told him that you loved him. It was a warm summer night. It had been dark, but the stars were shining so brightly that the moonlight shone through the window. You had made him feel things.

It was such a new feeling.

It was scary but exhilarating. This wasn’t like Beck or Love. It was different. It was amazing.

He wanted you, and he was willing to do anything to keep you.

When he found out about your annoying pest of a neighbor, he had been a bit put off at first. How dare he come in and try to woo you from under his nose? He couldn't help but laugh at the thought of the short, small, wiry guy being able to compete with his stature. Joe clearly outranked him, and he wanted to make it known.

It started off as a little harmless fun, a way for him to see what this guy was capable of. A way for him to test your limits and then go even further.

Joe knew how to push the right buttons. And it wasn't long before he had him right where he wanted him.

Now, he would be able to protect you. You didn't have to worry about that scrawny little bastard hurting you anymore. Joe would take care of you. He was so good to you and would continue to be so. He was yours.

He would keep you safe from all the dangers that lurked in the world. He had found himself wanting to help you in that way, protect you, provide for you. He could feel it. He wanted you to depend on him, and he was eager for that moment to come.

For now, all he wanted to do was watch. He wanted to watch this short little guy attempt to steal his girl from under his nose. He wanted to watch the pathetic creature get on his knees and beg. He wanted to see you tell him to fuck off and then run back into his arms. He wanted to watch you beg him to take care of you.

“Oh, Joe,” you had whimpered against his lips. He held you closer, keeping you safe and close. Your arms snaked around his neck, holding him tight to you. Your legs wrapped around his hips, allowing him to hold you up.

He felt so big and strong against you. He always felt so strong and reliable. He always made you feel so safe and wanted. He always made you feel so loved. He always made you feel like you were the only woman on earth, and you always wanted to feel this way forever.

His mouth left yours and moved to your neck, kissing and sucking there. His hands groped your body, slipping under the thin material of your t-shirt. He continued to kiss and bite down your neck, feeling your pulse against his lips.

He was in heaven. He was living a dream. This beautiful, smart, funny woman was all his, and he could feel himself becoming overwhelmed with emotions.

He pulled back to look at your face. You had a serene expression, one that Joe often saw when he made you come undone. You were perfect. You were everything to him.

His hands cupped your cheeks, and he kissed you softly. You kissed him back, opening your mouth for him to taste you.

Joe loved this. He loved every minute of it. It wasn't just about sex for him anymore. It was about sharing his love with you. He had given you the most sacred part of himself, and you had given it right back.

He was so happy he thought he could burst.

Your front door suddenly flew open, and Joe dropped you on your couch as quickly as possible, making sure to fix his shirt in the process. He moved in front of you protectively and glared at the small figure standing in the doorway.

He glared down at the man. His lips were pressed in a tight line, and his jaw was clenched. He was so pissed, but he wasn't going to allow that bastard to see it.

“Jared? You do realize I didn’t give you those keys just to open my door whenever you want, right?” Your voice was stern and angry, causing Joe to smirk. He was so proud of you, of your ability to stand up for yourself. You tell him off.

Joe watched as Jared ran his fingers through his messy hair, looking nervous and flustered. He looked at you and then at Joe before glancing back at you. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but he closed it quickly.

He tried again but only ended up stuttering and not saying a word. His eyes were darting back and forth between Joe and you as if he were looking for a way to escape.

Joe watched as he looked like a fish out of water. He had never seen this guy speechless before, so he was enjoying every minute of this.

You seemed to have finally had enough, as well. You threw your hands up and sighed loudly, rolling your eyes at Jared's awkwardness.

"Is there something you need, Jared? I’m really busy at the moment." Your words were sharp and short. Again, Joe smiled at how badass you were. It was hard to believe that a month ago, you were this nervous little thing. You couldn’t even say the word 'no,' and now, here you were, telling off this guy twice your size. You were just a ball of fire.

“I, uhm... I just... I wanted to see if you were okay after what happened earlier today. I was worried, I guess." Jared said. His voice was quiet and sounded so small. He sounded nervous and fidgety. Joe almost felt sorry for him. Almost.

He might’ve even felt sorry if he didn’t catch what he had said.

What happened… earlier?

Joe gave you a look, hoping you'd fill him in. You were his girlfriend, the person he cared about more than anything in this world, but you were keeping secrets? What was happening here?

You seemed to understand what he wanted and looked over at Jared before glancing back at him. Joe tilted his head slightly, silently asking you to tell him what was happening. You took a deep breath and looked at him with your big brown eyes before turning to look at Jared.

"I'm okay, Jared, thank you. But I am really busy, and I have a lot on my plate at the moment, so I can't really talk. Maybe later?" You smiled sweetly at him. "I'll give you a call?"

He seemed to relax a little at your words, smiling at you. He took a deep breath and nodded his head. He turned to face Joe for a moment, just staring at him for a beat before turning back to you.

He sighed and seemed to deflate like a balloon losing air. "Okay, yeah. Just let me know if you need anything. I'll call you later, then. Have a good night." Jared gave you a quick wave before walking out the door and closing it behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Joe turned to look at you, waiting for an explanation.

"What happened today?" He couldn’t help but think of the worst, worrying that maybe you had met someone else. That Jared had hurt you or something.

Your eyes went wide, and you shook your head vigorously as if reading his mind. "Oh, no. Nothing like that. It was... uhm..." You took a deep breath, seeming to collect your thoughts. "It was just me."

You let out a nervous laugh, but Joe was still staring at you intently. "Okay, well, it was this thing." You hesitated for a moment, staring at him, and he nodded his head, encouraging you to continue. You took a deep breath and started explaining.

You went on to tell him about the charity event that you had attended. You told him how there was a guy that had been hitting on you. He sounded like a total creep to Joe, and he couldn't understand how you would let some rando put his hands on you. You had a boyfriend, for Christ's sake! How dare he?! Joe didn't know how he would've survived if he had seen you with another man. He would've beaten the shit out of that guy, but he would've also beat himself up for not being able to protect you from that.

He was your boyfriend. He was supposed to keep you safe and protected. It was his duty. He was going to protect you. He wanted to protect you.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Joe asked, keeping his voice low and even. He was trying to be calm about this, but he was quite the opposite. He wanted to go and hunt this guy down and find out exactly what happened, where he touched you, what he said. He needed to know where this guy was, and he needed to make sure he wouldn’t be a problem for you. He would handle it. No one would touch his girl. He would keep you safe. He would kill for you if that's what it took. He would do anything for you.

You sighed and dropped your gaze from his, staring at your feet. You had the nerve to be embarrassed about it. That made him even angrier.

"I don't want to make a big deal out of it. It was just a dumb charity thing; I'm sure it's happened to lots of people." You didn't even sound convincing to yourself, and the sight of your hunched-over figure was enough for Joe to lose it.

He took a deep breath and sighed loudly, feeling his anger building in the pit of his stomach. He was on the verge of exploding, but you were clueless about what he was feeling. You were trying to pretend like it was no big deal, and you didn't even realize what you had just done.

You were his. His to protect. He wasn't going to allow this guy to take that from him. He wasn't going to allow this guy to touch what's his.

Joe stood up from the couch and started pacing around the living room. You watched him curiously for a moment before following his movement. You stood up from the couch, ready to stop him from walking around, but he turned around suddenly, looking at you. He glared down at you for a moment, and you stopped in your tracks.

“Did you get his name?” His voice was dark and dangerous, like a predator that was ready to kill.

You hesitated for a moment as if you were debating with yourself. He watched your face as you thought, waiting for your answer. Your brows furrowed as you thought, and your bottom lip was between your teeth. You were worried about something. He wasn't sure what it was, but he knew that he wasn't going to like it.

You sighed and glanced up at him with those big doe eyes before glancing back down to your feet. You seemed to be looking at his shoes, counting the laces as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

"I did." You murmured.

"What is it?" His voice was a low growl.

"Joe, this doesn't-"

"What is his name?" Joe snapped, glaring down at you. He didn't mean to yell, but it was taking all his energy to hold back. You flinched at his tone, and he wanted to punch himself.

"I don't want you to get involved in this. I'm okay. I promise." You said. "I just want to forget it ever happened. Please, just let me take care of it." You sounded so defeated, and Joe wanted to reach out and hold you, but he knew he needed to hold himself back. He needed to keep himself from you for a moment. He wanted to get out of his own head before he did anything stupid.

"How?" His voice was cold, colder than he meant to let on.

"What?" You looked up at him, and he felt like he was looking into your soul. It was so beautiful and pure. You were so innocent and good, so sweet and soft. He never wanted to do anything to hurt you. He would protect you and keep you safe from all the bad things in the world. This guy included.

“How can you forget it happened?" He said, glaring at you. "What did he do? What did he say to you?" His voice was getting louder by the second, and you took a step back, flinching again. His stomach twisted as he saw your reaction, and he tried to calm himself. He took a deep breath and tried to speak calmly. "Did he touch you?"

You looked away from his face and sighed. Your gaze landed on your feet, and you seemed to be counting the laces in his shoes again.

"It doesn't matter what happened," you said.

"What did happen?" Joe asked again.

"Joe," you said, looking up at him with those pretty brown eyes, "It really doesn't matter, okay? I don't want to talk about it."

"I need to know."

You rolled your eyes at that and threw your hands up. "Why? So you can go after him and make it worse?"

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He knew he had to tell you. " You’re scared. I don’t want you to be scared anymore. I want to help you."

He wanted to take away that fear. He wanted to take care of you. He wanted to be the only person you needed to protect yourself. He didn't want you to be afraid. He wanted you to be able to feel safe and loved.

"You can't protect me all the time. Sometimes I have to be able to stand up for myself and do this stuff, Joe." You sounded defeated, but Joe shook his head.

"You shouldn't have to."

"It was just one guy." You shrugged your shoulders. "I can handle it."

"You shouldn't have to! Just… Please, just let me help you." His voice was pleading. He knew he sounded desperate and pathetic, but he needed to be the one to protect you.

You didn't say anything to that and looked back down to the floor. Joe's eyes followed you, staring at you for a moment. He noticed that you weren't moving anymore.

“Jim,” You murmured quietly, your head still bowed. It was so quiet that Joe wasn't sure he heard you right.

"What?"

"His name is Jim," you said, looking up at him with your big brown eyes. "Jim Haynes. I saw him in the building this morning when I was walking to my car. He lives in 1515."

He heard you. You told him.

You gave him what he wanted, and he couldn't help but smile. It was a wide smile, one that you saw often on Joe.

He grabbed your waist and pulled you in close to him. You squeaked as you were being moved across the room, and you held your breath as you realized where he was heading. You knew what was going to happen, and you couldn't help the rush of excitement and heat that filled you.

You watched his face as you moved, seeing his big brown eyes glued to yours. Your mouth went dry as you stared back into his dark eyes. You felt your pulse race as his gaze felt like a touch.

“Thank you for trusting me.” He whispered, his breath tickling your face. He was truly so happy to finally be given this information. It felt good knowing that he could help you. He could keep you safe from harm.

He pressed his lips against yours. The kiss was slow and soft. You could feel the emotions on his lips, feel how much he cared. You could feel how much he wanted you. He pressed his body against yours, wanting to feel you pressed against him.

Tonight, he would protect you. Tomorrow, he will make sure you stay protected. But right now, he was going to take care of you. He was going to be there for you.

He was going to take care of you, and then, he was going to take care of Jim Haynes.

[dreamesamu]

THE THINGS HE TAKES FOR GRANTED

in which he takes a moment to justify himself after never noticing your little crush for him

starring. msby!miya atsumu x fem!reader

genre(s): angst to fluff, long scenario sets in post-timeskip!

warning(s): reader is nice and overworks herself. not proofhead i apologize

author’s note: It's kind of not what i had imagined but hope you enjoy it.

choose your character: akaashi ver & more coming soon

another cliché beginning for the person you are right now - the MSBY team manager - is that you’ve loved the miya atsumu since high school. it’s not like being the team’s manager isn’t your dream, you loved this job and had been dying to do it because you’ve loved volleyball, too. plus, you will have the opportunity to stay close and take care of the team, especially your crush who just merely thinks you are his best friend.

you first laid eyes on him when you were sitting alone on the subway, his dyed-blonde locks caught your attention as he first talked to you about the chase atlantic’s song you were listening to, he was cute, warm and friendly. at that moment, you were verified that he wasn’t the guy who was fond of his fan girls that everybody had been rumoring about. He eventually found out that you guys went to the same high school, so as to start a new beginning of your bonding friendship.

It wasn’t long until you finally realized that you might have adored the pretty setter a little too much than usual. his touches, his smile, the way he calls your name and his genuine characteristics when he was used to you being around seemed a little bit more easy to flutter your heart than every other day. Ever since then, you just hid your feelings and was grateful for what you got right then because you knew that if you confess, you couldn’t get this best friend treatment that you silently fell for for any longer.

You impressed yourself for even keep it until now. you and him are mature and beautiful, but you still can’t help but feel so ‘high school’ when you look at him. the least thing you could do for a friend (crush) is care for him through bottles of flavored electrolyte water, preparing his favorite after-practice snacks and even cool and soft towels to calm the heat down after a match. However, it seems like mr. miya doesn’t notice all of the hard work you did for him, he was so used to be taken care of by you that he accidentally failed to realize the special treatment only for him but nobody else.

“Hey, tired yet? you can call it a day for now if you want?” you smiled, hand over his bottle of water you prepared for him to the softly panting atsumu taking a break on the bench. He is quite preoccupied with his earlier techniques that he need to improve, he only spares you a glance then takes the bottle to drink without saying any words, you assume that he is in a bad mood.

“oh, and” you search for the thing in your bag. “here, your towel”

he nods and takes it, it makes you feel awkward. that’s… all…? You try to not overthink yourself, after all, it was quite a tense match, and the fact that your team will have an important volleyball game the next month proves his concerns are valid.

you watch atsumu leave when hinata shoyo came up to you.

“oh? isn’t that our manager?” you startle at his voice. “hehe, please don’t mind tsumu at all, please, he just got pissed because he made a mistake during practice” the sunshine grins, having him around surely just brighten everything up, because he is just so sweet and comfortable to be with.

“no, no,… I really don’t mind at all, actually” you know atsumu better than anyone so you don’t take his actions to heart sometimes, it’s just…

“oi, oi! I know what you’re thinking, I saw you overthere doing things for tsumu. This guy, honestly…” Hinata sure saw you earlier with enthusiasm written on all over your face while preparing those towels and bottles, he felt bad for you and decided to cheer you up regardless atsumu has just cracked your poor heart a little.

“It’s okay, hinata. thank you for checking on me!” you smile wide, so my efforts wasn’t invalidated at all, gratefully bow down to see the awkward hinata trying to stutter words out.

“no- no, don’t do that, you are our manager, that’s just nothing! besides, seeing you give tsumu so special treatment makes me real jealous!!” he huffs cutely. “I really want that flavored electrolyte water, too! what a shame he wouldn’t notice.”

you laugh sheepishly as you guys return to your dorms to rest. things have been going hard for you like crazy, the work amount weighing on your shoulders make it almost unbearable, but you still stay strong and put a warm smile on your face so nobody would notices. you have been thinking of retiring just in case the situation just got worse to the level of destroying your mental health. but, by thinking of your small joy of seeing atsumu everyday, you hesitated.

your sleepless nights start when the important games take a step closer, you overworked yourself and often feel burnt out, your time with atsumu narrows as you find it hard to start a conversation even in lunch break. atsumu does feel weird. why isn’t y/n sit with us? she is nowhere to be found these days.

“hey, tsum-tsum” said bokuto. “what do you think of y/n?” he said, putting a tray of food on the table while making his way to sit.

“y/n? what’s with her?” the fake blond raises a brow, munching on his food

“I think she’s so cute and thoughtful, base on her affection for you, i betcha she’s completely smitten” the owl laughs as the other teammates giggle along. “you should consider on dating her, what a waste if you don’t, she’s literally girlfriend material, same thoughts huh, hinata?” he winks and the tangerine head give him back a thumbs up.

“dating y/n, huh?” atsumu laughs as if he doesn’t take bokuto’s statements seriously. “I don’t date my friends, you know. besides, y/n is just a close friend of mine, she ain’t my type”

“heartless tsumu… she worked so hard for you these days…” hinata fake crying when talking about you

“I know that she makes snacks and does things for me, but sometimes, that’s just unnecessary, i don’t need it to be all the damn time, it feels a little annoying, i just need to be alone to refresh my thoughts” he sighs. “now you told me to consider on dating her, i wouldn’t know how long i can take it.”

now there is dead silence following his statement, everybody just awkwardly continues finishing their lunch, and you do know eavesdropping is a thing that you shouldn’t do. but you did. before you even notice, hot streams cover your face and you feel your breath hitches. the coach sends you to check on the team at such wrong timing, you can’t face them, the voices earlier destroy your confidence, replace it with angst and hurt. so… what i did is just a bother to him, huh. you realize now, that you were such a dumbass trying to make him catch feeling by all of this. and with the tiniest amount of pride left, you back up a smile and step into the cafeteria, the atmosphere suddenly feels tense as everybody hasn’t been moving on since their last conversation, atsumu feels an uneasy feeling when he sees you behind him, guilt? he thinks.

“hey… coach sent me to check up on you guys, please be well rested at your dorms after lunch, we have practice match at 2pm, alright?” your voice evidently trembles, you try cover it up with some fake coughs. oh, who are you kidding? it’s atsumu miya we’re talking about. he first notices how your eyes are a bit swollen, have you been crying? your tired figure due to sleepless nights, the way you haven’t eaten properly shows right in front of his eyes. he suddenly felt a twinge in his heart, in which moment he never wanted to see you like this, ever again. but, what’s all this for? he doesn’t like you… right? because- you’re his best friend, and caring is what’s best friends do, am I correct?

you left the cafeteria. atsumu feels like his whole head is going to explode, he regrets what he said earlier, knowing seventy per cent that you might have listened to it. he is weak because of guilt and distaste. the group feels uneasy and moody all of a sudden.

“i haven’t told you this before but you’ve seen her now, tsumu… she overworked herself with this huge amount of work with nobody beside her, yet she still maintaining to take care of you with these small gestures.” hinata sighs heavily. “y/n told me not to tell you about her state so you can concentrate on practising, but I’m really worried because now she can’t even hide it anymore. I tried to help, but she pushed me away and told me that i should do my own practices as our game is going to start soon.”

hinata pats atsumu’s back before leaving as if he’s signalling him to make it up to you. atsumu started to cry at this point. how could he be so clueless? he didn’t even know that his best friend was undergoing such pressure, yet why does the term “best friend” sound so irritating? he felt like he had failed to protect you and worse, hurting your feelings and he regretted it, so badly.

The following day comes, atsumu's first task is to search for you. To his astonishment, you are once more nowhere to be found. he was so preoccupied, his spikes aren’t as good, and he could not concentrate on practising, the coach sent him out, and gave him a moment to rethink by himself. and so, he reaches a staff, asking for information about you.

“Y/n? oh… she’s at the infirmary, we noticed her devastated state so we sent her to the doctor a while ago. now think about it I might write a report to the coach asking him to reduce the amount of work she’s handling.”

“thank you, kind sir. may I be the one who’ll write the report? I’m sure I could convince the coach.”

as the man nods, atsumu bowed goodbye to him and sprints to the infirmary where you’re at. he knows, that if anybody should write a report for you, it must be him. he must protect you because he has just realised it now, he likes you a lot more than he could imagine.

“Y/N!” atsumu slams the door open, he faces you with your eyes widened, startled by the bright window.

“tsumu…?” you softly speak.

atsumu in front of your eyes is the atsumu who tries to hold back his tears, biting his bottom lip as the poor heart lurching somewhere in his stomach but somehow still happy because he has found you.

“hey…” he kneels down on one knee beside you. “i’m sorry, angel” his hand softly squishes the smaller one, it holds back gently on his’

in all of the things you dislike, what you utterly don’t want to deal with is your emotions when you see atsumu looking so vulnerable like this. you instinctually grab a tissue and wipe off the sweat drop on his forehead the moment you see it, atsumu’s worried expression won’t vanish unless you speak up something.

“hey…” you smile. “don’t worry, I’m okay now, tsumu” you fondly touch his face with a hand, and he sinks in your touch, eyes glittering. atsumu intentionally plants a soft kiss on your warm palm and watches you go weak for him.

“i like you, y/n” he sighs. “i don’t want us to be just friends. i want to protect you, want to be the kind of guy who mentally support his girl to help her cope with any pressure.”

he looks up to see your widened eyes, without a response, he continues.

“i’m sorry i said the things i didn’t mean when you were there, I was just…" he gulps nervously and you sigh.

"tsumu... if it's too much for you to bear, maybe i should stop doing those things, okay?" you scoff bitterly, he becomes panic

“no, no, no,... i really like the way you care for me, please, i want your attention. please keep doing it. don’t get tired of me…”

you can feel the pulse bumping in your nerves, your heart flutters, and blood rushes into your cheeks just by hearing his confession. you kneel down beside him, fighting back the tears but then you can’t, so you squish him in a hug. atsumu holds you back as you start sobbing on his white shirt, inhales fondly your intoxicating smell and pats rhythmically on your back

“there, there, my angel. i’m here now. i’m sorry i’m late. let me make this up for you, yeah?” he chuckles.

atsumu loves his girlfriend. after hearing you ramble about your tight schedule, he immediately writes a report based on your experience to inform the coach about your condition so that everyone can share in your responsibilities instead of you having to handle everything alone. it wasn’t that long for the msby mates to realize you guys are together, he wrote in that report that he is your boyfriend, anyway.

“you nailed it, tsumu-kun” hinata bumps him with a thumbs up, atsumu responds with a sheepish grin while bokuto laughs beside him and sakusa just doesn’t really give a shit. 

he spots you standing on the opposite road near the brand new cafe, waving back to him smiling, “nah, gotta run. gonna treat my girlfriend with extra pastry today.”

i guess he is the simp now.

© 2024 dreamesamu. all rights reserved.

a recommendation to cope with your broken heart <3

[imagineredwood]

Group HC - The Boys reactions to getting caught stealing your panties 👙

I know. I know. It’s terrible and gross and icky I KNOW 😭😭 but I saw HCs for another shows characters around this idea and I couldn’t get it out of my head and it triggered the memory that this is actually canon for Juice and…yeah. Here we are 🧍🏻‍♀️

He’s not sorry. Or embarrassed. He loves you, loves everything about you. He thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread. He worships you and the ground beneath your feet. So why wouldn’t he steal your panties? They’re yours, and they rest against his most favorite part of you all day 🤷🏻‍♀️ He won’t apologize, not even when your face heats up and you cover it with both hands. On the contrary, he probably makes a show of taking one out of the secret pile and sniffing it. He’s nasty, and he knows regardless of how you feel about it, you know he does it out of love and devotion. So he’s ok with it. And he’s not gonna stop.

He’s ashamed. He knew he shouldn’t have done it. Felt weird and invasive, but he couldn’t help it. He just loves you so much, and he gets lonely when you’re apart, and it smells like you. What else was he supposed to do? He would never cheat, would never even dream of it. But the stress of the club gets to him, especially the more complicated things get, he just needs comfort and relief, and when he saw them laying there in the hamper, he snagged it without thinking. Then he couldn’t stop, even when he knew he should. Even goes as far as offering to take apart the washer saying that maybe the machine is eating them 👀 He apologizes, cheeks tinted red, eyes downcast and hopes you don’t hold it against him. He’ll ask before he takes them next time, scouts honor.

Like Angel, he’s not embarrassed. He just shrugs, telling you that you’re his girl and your pussy is his, so why can’t he just take them? 🙄 He buys you new pairs every now and then anyway. So he wants to smell you randomly throughout the day, whats the harm in that? He just misses you. And likes to look at the pair and reminisce about times he’s taken them off of you. Is that a crime? He even reaches into his kutte and pulls out the pair that he’s kept on him today to show that it’s no big deal, and they’re the ones from yesterday, you recognize.

He’s bashful, arguably, but not necessarily embarrassed. It’s more about getting caught than it is the actual act. Like a kid with his hand in the cookie jar. He’s not sorry for taking them, he’s just sorry that it’s kinda awkward for you to find the stash. He laughs awkwardly, shrugging it off or trying to anyway. Explains that he just rarely gets time to himself, so he is uses them when he’s alone in Templo to get his mind right. That your scent calms him and helps his focus. He didn’t think you’d mind too much, he just also never expected you to find out.

He's not sorry in the slightest and he makes sure you know it too. He bought every pair anyway, what's the issue? He could buy you 30 pairs by lunch 🙄 He wasn't up from about it, no, but he also didn't necessarily hide it. It just wasn't entirely in the open. You're respectful and don't go through his stuff in his office so how would you have known he had an entire drawer of his desk with them all collected in there? You'll get over it, a few new lingerie sets will make sure of that.

The OG of panty stealing and sniffing himself. It’s canon after all. He just can’t help himself. You’re his moon and stars and he just can’t get enough of you. Even when you’re perched in his lap, cockwarming him, face nuzzled in the crook of his neck, it’s not enough. He needs to be in your skin. But he can’t. So stealing your panties is the next best thing. It’s a compulsion he can’t fight. God knows he’s tried. And he tells you as much. Lists all of the things he did first to try and not have to submit to that desire. But in the end it didn’t matter. He just needs to have your most intimate article with him at all times. Keeps He doesn’t want you to think he’s a freak but he also just need you to know how much he absolutely loves, adores, and worships you. He’ll even hand over the pair in his pocket if you ask him to.

He's nonchalant about it. It's just panties. You have a bunch more. Not like you were gonna miss them or something. He just loves you and likes to have something of yours that he can keep nearby when he misses you. One in his pocket, one in the sale bag of his bike tucked away hidden. His stash is dispersed, not because he was necessarily hiding them, but because there's one each place that will serve a purpose.

Also not embarrassed. Hits you with that famous smirk, his shoulders shrugging as you stare at him waiting for an answer. "Just miss you sometimes, Darlin'. Just somethin' to get me by." Like it's perfectly normal. He left you your favorite pairs after all. He only takes the ones you're not the biggest fan of, so you wouldn't notice as quickly. It's not a big deal, he can give them back. Sometimes he just needs to sit in the chapel with them over his face while he strokes himself before Church so he can make sure he has a level head before this important vote.

General taglist

@piccasoe @ateliefloresdaprimavera @gemini0410 @woahitslucyylu @my-rosegold-soul @that-chick212 @everyhowlmarksthedead @glimmerglittergirl  @fanaticfangurl21 @encounterthepast  @svintsandghosts @starrynite7114   @destynelseclipsa  @queenbeered @iamthegraham @emoengelfurleben  @otomefromtheheart @rosieposie0624 @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @beeroses @weirdosandhopelessromantics @kola95 @black-repunzel99 @xonickibaby @cruzwalters @myakai13 @mrsstevenbuchananstark @lyly00 @kaystacks17 @cole-winchester  @alexxavicry  @savagemickey03  @fanfic-n-tabulous   @choochoo284 @xbloodyxangelx @carma-fanficaddict @gillysoldlady

Mayans MC taglist

@dazzledamazon​  @abunnykisses​ @briana-mishell24​  @wrcn9fvlcver​  @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @krysiewithak​  @appropriate-writers-name​  @blessedboo​  @megapeacelovemusic-blog​ @emoengelfurleben​ @blowmymbackout​ @abby-splace​ @kola95​ @black-repunzel99​ @redpoodlern​  @myakai13​

@cruzwalters​  @danimals1096 @po3ticb3auty​ @lyly00​ @im-just-a-mississippi-girl​  @angel-121​ @fanfic-n-tabulous​ @90sisthenew80s​ @lovelytricia @librarian1002

[hellisharchive]

Some Adam smut with a fangirl? I mean he did mention a band.. so that means he would have a ton of fans across the music genre! And one in particular likes HIM the most. How would he handle that? Just like another groupie? Or maybe something more? Please have fun with this!!

・﹒・ diggin' on the guitarist - request

Summary: You wanted him to notice you- but you were too scared to make yourself known. You were his biggest fangirl but too shy to say something. However, he finally noticed you in ways you never could have imagined.

Warnings: 18+, fingering [reader receiving], aftercare

Pairing: Adam x Fem!Fangirl!reader

You went to his every show, but not feeling confident enough to go up and meet him as you would probably find someway to mess up. You had the biggest crush on him, biggest fangirl this side of Heaven regardless of what everyone else says. He was just so hot, you would kill just for a little wink at you. This show was no different as you jumped up with the crowd as you yelled along to his lyrics, always so passionate about his music, you loved the energy. By the end, you were exhausted and had another amazing time. Starting to leave after mostly everyone filed out, you felt a hand grab onto your wrist. Turning around, you saw that it was Adam himself. What did he want? With someone like you?

"Heeeyy now, where ya goin' hot stuff? Don't think I don't notice ya at every single show of mine. Gotta say, I'm always sad when I see ya leave. Not this time" He had on a smirk as he let you go, only to get right up in your personal space. Only then did you realize just how much bigger than he was from you, he had to lean down a good few inches just to be above your head. Face growing hot from the size difference, you panicked and looked around the now completely empty venue- it was just you two. Was this really happening? Did he actually notice you every single time? Freezing, you had no idea what to say and how to respond. He was your idol, your true love, and he actually noticed you. You felt like an idiot, like you were back in high school with a stupid crush on a guy. But, you try and muster up something and fail spectacularly.

"I uh- I just uh. Uhm-" A slim finger rested itself on your lips, promptly shutting you up. Eyes wide, you saw his mischievous ones as he pulled his finger away, grabbing onto your waist and walking you backstage into what looked like a sort of lounge room. You were shaky and unable to fully process everything that was happening. The Adam, the first man eas hitting on you, touching you, and bringing you on stage. Your dreams were all coming true.

"You don't have to say anything Babe, it's ok, I know I'm too awesome that I make you speechless. Now- sit down" You stayed silent as he gently pushed you onto the pale, golden couch, opting for being quiet that as the bst option so you don't keep making a fool of yourself. You didn't know what he was planning but you did as he asked, sitting on the cushions as he stood and hovered right over you.

"You ready to be pleasured by the original dick, Babe?" You nodded egarly and he chuckled before telling you to take off your clothes. You hurriedly rushed as you ripped them off while also being careful not to damage them, you felt the cold rush of air hit your now naked body. Staring up at the man, he took off his mask to reveal a handsome face with brown hair and gold eyes. It then occurs to you that you've never seen him without his mask, or anyone has.

"I know, I'm fucking handsome. Now sit back and relax as I give you a special show for my favorite fan" Before you could fully register that he said you were his favorite, he smashes his lips against yours and grabbed onto your tits. You moaned in his mouth as he tweaked your nipples, already making you so aroused as you grabbed onto his hair and tugged it. After a few minutes, he pulled away and took off all his clothes except his underwear. He then slid himself between your thighs, sloppily kissing your neck, causing you to moan loudly. He nipped and sucked until the point where you're sure there were at least 2 hickeys that would form. As he was doing that, he slipped a finger to your pussy, which caused you to jump in his hold. The first man moved down to suck on your tit, picking the nipple as he gently moved his finger right where your clit was, flicking it and gently dipping it into your folds.

"Adaaaammm..." You moaned, from the tit sucking to the feeling of his finger penetrating you was getting overwhelming. Squirming, you tugged on his hair and gripped it as he started to move in and out of you, switching the breast he was sucking to the other side. He then added a second finger, going faster as you could feel that familiar pool gather in your stomach, at this rate, you were going to orgasm in a little bit. Biting your lip, your breaths became fast and unsteady as he knew exactly how to move his fingers inside you as a guitarist.

"Keep moaning my name, its hot as fuck" Before you could release, he pulled his fingers out of you, making you whine from having your orgasm robbed from you. Chuckling, he took off his underwear to reveal an average sized cock, but it was pretty thick. Gulping, you wondered if it would even fit. Looking back up at him, he pulled you into a kiss- a softer one this time- as he lined himself up.

"Tell me if it gets too much, alright? Or tap me or some shit I don't know" Nodding, you took a deep breath as he slowly started to push in, with just his tip you were already feeling full. Grabbing onto his arms, you closed eyes and curled your toes as he was making sure to be gentle. Taking deep breaths, you felt kisses on your untouched side of your neck as he finally pushed all the way in. Opening your eyes, you saw him have a soft look on his face before he asked if you were ready. Saying yes, he started thrusting in and out. Yelling out his name, you moaned the entire time as he went slower at first before quickly picking up. Your arms were wrapped around his neck as you tugged on his hair hard, causing him to fuck you into the couch harder. Tears formed in your eyes from just how good it was- heavenly- if you will.

"Keep sounding like that and I'm gonna have to claim as mine, fuck" You could barely register what he said as he pounded into you mercilessly, the feeling of an orgasm quickly returning. You started sobbing as you finally orgasmed, moaning out his name so loud you swore all of Heaven heard you. Breath slowing down, he slowed down as well, hair all messy from your tugging, sweat covered both of your bodies as you stared into each other like old lovers. He gently slid himself out of you and you already missed the feeling of being so full. His cum and your fluids mixed as they leaked out of you. You watched as he grabbed a towel that he slightly wet and a water bottle and set them on the couch.

"Drink" He noticed you were out of it and shaky, so he opened the bottle and lifted the opening to your mouth, slightly leaning your head back as you drank some water. He set it back down when he thought you had enough for now and started to clean you off. He was being so gentle as he made sure to get every single part of your body. He went to grab your clothes when you tugged on his wrist, even if weakly, but it was enough to signal him.

"Can you uh...can we uh..." Your voice was hoarse from all the screaming and the water only did so much, but even after he fucked you silly, you still couldn't ask to cuddle with him. Smiling, he shook his head as he pulled away and grabbed a random blanket on a chair and walked back over, laying you down softly on the large couch. Resting the blanket on top of you, he crawled in behind you as he was much larger than you. Wrapping his arms around you, you felt him kiss your head, making your chest warm.

"Thank you for being my favorite fan"

[wileys-russo]

Could you write something for Alessia where reader is her sister and gets her first england call up. I feel like less would be such a good older sister, slightly protective and over bearing but also just making sure reader is fitting in and has no trouble.

the call up II a.russo x sister!reader

the call up II a.russo x sister!reader

you'd been sat with a few of your club team mates watching a movie together at beths house when you'd gotten the call, shock written all over your face as you glanced down and saw the contact name.

"go! answer it." beth whispered with an encouraging nod as you hurried to your feet and raced out of the living room, hyper aware of the eyes watching as you did so.

accepting sarina's call the dutch woman got straight to the point. you'd seen her in the crowd at a few of the home games you'd started in, and sure enough she advised she'd been impressed with what she'd seen, offering you a spot at the next camp with the senior team.

she was honest in the chances of you getting minutes in the game against scotland were slim, but the opportunity to train with the senior team and absorb and learn was there and waiting as you eagerly accepted, sarina advising she would see you at camp before ending the call.

your first call was to your parents who were over the moon, promising they'd keep it quiet until the squad for camp was officially announced, though within a few seconds your phone lit up with a flurry of notifications as the news was put into the family group chat making you roll your eyes with a fond smile.

you stood to return back to your team mates but your phone lit up with another call, your sisters name and contact photo she despised flashing across the screen making you snicker with amusement at the unflattering 0.5 angle of her with bed hair and a scowl in high definition.

"hi less." you greeted with a chuckle. "you still haven't changed my contact photo have you?" the blonde sighed knowingly as you laughed properly looking at it again.

"of course not, and i won't be anytime soon unless i take an uglier photo." you teased as she mocked you under your breath. "you're such a little shit. but anyway, why the hell did i have to find out about your call up from luca?" alessia scoffed accusingly and you didn't need to be on facetime to imagine the stern frown which would be plastered across her features.

"because no one in this family knows how to keep anything to themselves, you especially." you rolled your eyes, sending a smile and a thumbs up to beth who poked her head in to check on you, the older girl sending you a warm smile back and retreating to the living room.

"i should have been your first call, i'm your only sister and i'll be at camp too. your first call up to the senior squad is a huge deal!" alessia lectured before dropping tone and congratulating you, the two of you having imagined for years what it would be like if you ever made the senior team together.

you were disappointed not to make the world cup roster but having the extra time to focus on football with your club had benefited you immensely in other ways, and you just needed to consistently remind yourself that everything happened for a reason.

you'd started off your professional career with a short term contract at bristol city, and after a year of starting and a semi successful season you were offered a three year contract with manchester united which had always been your goal.

alessia had already known of the offer before you did of course, ella and mary having to practically hold her down to stop her calling to pressure you into accepting the moment she found out.

but none the less it was an offer too good to decline for any club, let alone your childhood dreams of one day playing for united coming true and to get the opportunity to play alongside and see alessia every day.

the two of you fought tooth and nail growing up as sisters did and always over the most ridiculous of things.

but regardless of that and the near five year age gap you were always close, your relationship only strengthening once alessia went away to college and you weren't living on top of one another anymore.

you'd only played a single season with united, most of it spent on the bench or as an impact sub, but you loved the girls and found yourself falling hard for manchesters charm.

which is why the loan had been quite the shock, no real warning given when the club accepted an offer from spurs on your behalf, both you and grace traded with the hopes of gaining proper game time and starting minutes under your belts.

alessia had kicked off the moment it went public, first at you for not telling her and then at everyone else who would listen to her frustrations which you knew mostly stemmed from a worry of how you would go moving to a different place and a different team all on your own.

only, you weren't alone. with grace by your side you adjusted easily into this new challenge in your life, you and the midfielder growing even closer than you were when you were at united, and now you both found no trouble calling each other a best friend, attached at the hip and practically inseparable.

"-i'll come and pick you up friday for dinner for mums birthday. i love you!" alessia confirmed, clearing pausing waiting for you to say it back. "don't you dare hang up and not say it back you little shit." your sister scoffed as you grinned, forever finding it all too easy to get under her skin.

"love you lessi, see you friday!" with that you hung up, hearing the girls in the other room start to argue over what to order for dinner as you took a moment to let it all sink in.

you'd finally done it.

~

"you've got your kits yeah? and the tracksuits, and the training ones, and your socks, and your cleats, and you need to be careful you're not wearing anything that isn't adidas branded if you're being filmed or there's pictures taken by the social media team-" your sister lectured over the phone as you rolled your eyes and flicked her to speaker.

"-then you'll get the schedule when you arrive but i'll show you where everything is anyway. if we're not roomed near each other i'll still come and find you every morning and we can have breakfast before training and i'll run you through the daily schedules-" you started to tune her out as you flicked through your closet, humming every now and then to appease her.

"-are you even listening to me?" you only hummed again, completely checked out of the conversation now as you wrestled to get your suitcase closed. "oh my god you've got me on speaker and you've left the room again like last time. OI!" you winced and zoned back in as she shouted loudly.

"no! i'm right here idiot. but i know you love the sound of your own voice so who was i to interrupt?" you chuckled, grunting as you sat on top of your case and finally got it closed.

“ha ha ha, very funny. what the hell are you doing anyway? why are you grunting and groaning are you working out right now?” your sister questioned. “no! im trying to close my case, which i now have!” you sighed victoriously zipping it up.

“you haven’t finished packing?” alessia shouted as you rolled your eyes. “less.” you warned, muting her momentarily as she ignored you and started to rant and rave about how you needed to step up and be an adult.

returning a few moments later you unmuted her, catching her mid story of something you really weren’t all that interested in.

“oh no less you’re breaking up I can’t hear you!” you spoke in a monotone, voice dripping with sarcasm as you scrunched a piece of paper and made glitchy noises with your mouth.

“seriously? you can’t even just say you don’t want to talk anymore? you have to make up some bullshit excuse and-“ her words fell short as you clicked the red end call button with a chuckle, tossing the ball of paper over your shoulder.

you watched the texts fly in from her, unhappy with your attitude and warning you needed to be mature on camp which you silenced with a roll of your eyes, interrupted by your security buzzer going.

“sorry don’t want any.” you grinned as grace’s head appeared in the security camera, the girl pulling a face and flipping you off as you buzzed her in. “cars here! im not comin up, you’re comin down. hurry!” the brunette warned as your eyes widened and you rushed about making sure you had everything.

you jolted in surprise as a knock sounded on your door, flinging it open and frowning when grace stood there with a grin. “aih ya dickhead the car isn’t here yet it’s not even ten, too easy!” your best friend laughed pushing past you as she dumped her own bags by the door.

“you are such a wind up.”

~

“you nervous?” you asked grace, tapping her knee to gain her attention as the car turned into st georges park and she pulled her headphones down around her neck.

“nah not really. you shouldn’t be either! we wouldn’t have been called up if they didn’t think we wasn’t ready, and your sister is here anyway to look after ya.” grace reminded with a smile, pushing your head with a wink as the two of you rough housed for a bit before the car parked up.

“cameras rollin. how’d i look then?” grace fluttered her eyelashes making you grin. “ugly as ever. come on hillary!” you slid out of the car before she could retaliate, groaning at the nickname.

you knew from the way your phone had been blowing up that your sister was already here, having arrived earlier this morning with lotte and beth.

so it wasn’t any real surprise when you’d hardly stepped a foot out of the car and she appeared, hovering at the top of the stairs with ella plastered to her side who sent you and grace a grin and a wave.

both of you grabbing your bags you flashed a smile and fist bumped the media staff who were filming entrances as you and grace ascended the stairs.

“ready for your first camp girls?” you and grace both echoed back a yes, grinning at the camera before someone wiggled their way in between you both and slung their arms over your shoulders.

"big sister gonna look out for you then?" the staff laughed as alessia beamed and squeezed both you and grace tightly. "well she's got big shoes to follow, we've been working on her backheel." alessia joked, the camera crew moving toward the next van which pulled up which was full of the city girls.

"less get off." you huffed, grace wiggling away and tackling ella in a hug, the taller of the two dragging them inside in a headlock as your sister only gripped you tighter.

"absolutely not, roomie." the older girl grinned smugly as your face fell. "oh you've gotta be kidding me!" you groaned throwing your head back in annoyance.

"she's messin with you, we don't share rooms anymore on camp." a new voice sounded behind you as you managed to throw off alessia's arm and charge toward them. "mazza!" you cheered happily, launching at her as she caught you with a grunt.

"baby russo!" the girl cheered in the same tone before dropping you back to your feet. "just my actual name is fine thank you." you shoved her playfully with a roll of your eyes. "not this camp or any camp after, that is your name now. or we could go with B.R for short?" mary teased tugging on your ears.

"i'm quite fond of her childhood nickname." alessia chimed in with a smirk as you sent her a murderous glare. "don't you dare, or i'll spill one of your secrets. and we both know that i have plenty of them to choose from!" you smirked back as her face fell.

"rat." alessia muttered, nodding for you to follow her as she grabbed your bags and headed for the elevator to show you to your room.

"we'll talk later. you spill some of those secrets and theres more where this came from kid." mary whispered, sliding a tenner into your pocket with a pat and a wink.

~

you were mid dream when you first heard it, the repeated thudding which seemed to leak into your subconscious as suddenly you realized you weren't dreaming anymore and someone was knocking furiously on your door.

raising your head from your pillow you blinked groggily and rubbed your eyes so hard you saw stars, stumbling out of bed and tripping over the corner of the duvet where your foot got stuck in bed.

hitting the ground with a thud and a grunt the knocking stopped for a moment and you paused, unsure if you'd imagined it.

"for god sakes hurry up!" nope, didn't imagine it.

"what?" you retorted grumpily, mornings your least favourite time of day as you rubbed your face and your sister barreled in past you without so much as a greeting.

"go away alessia its too early!" you groaned, shutting the door and trudging back toward your bed. "you haven't even hung anything up? for god sakes this is a hotel this isn't your bedroom at home you can't just fling shit around and leave your mess everywhere like a tornado!" your sister lectured with a click of her tongue, busying herself picking things up and putting them away.

"i've not even been here for twenty four hours yet less surely that stick up your ass is gonna sting something terrible by the end of the week?" you grumbled, sliding back into bed as your sister shot you a filthy look at her shoulder.

"hilarious. but you have to be professional here and set a good reputation for yourself, especially your first camp. that means up on time, early for breakfast, one of the first to the pitch, extra reps in the gym-" you tuned her out, quite the expert at it by now, eyes slipping closed again.

"urgh get off!" you moaned as a weight settled on top of you, wheezing slightly as alessia made herself comfortable sitting on your back. "you have...forty six seconds to get up yourself before i drag you out of this bed by your ankles and we both know i will!" your sister threatened seriously, checking her watch.

"you're so fucking annoying. this is worse than when we both lived at home, at least then you also used to hate mornings!" you exhaled deeply, star fishing out on the bed as she wriggled and purposefully bore more of her taller form into you.

"twenty nine, twenty eight, twenty seven..." the blonde counted down ignoring your statements. "can hardly get up myself with you on top of me can i bigfoot?" you snapped, alessia rolling off of you and squealing as your leg kicked out to push her off the bed.

"right! three, two, one." and with that she flung the covers off, grabbing your ankles and true to her word yanking you out of bed, your body hitting the carpeted floor with a thump as she loomed over you.

"get dressed. if theres no pancakes when we get to breakfast i will be holding you personally responsible and you will pay for it!" your older sister warned, grabbing your top in hand and hauling you up to your feet, shoving a pile of clothes into your hand and pushing you toward the bathroom.

"stop manhandling me hagrid!" you snapped as alessia chose to ignore you, making your bed up and getting herself comfortable on top of it, scrolling through her phone as you snatched yours from the nightstand.

"hurry up!" you were trying to brush your hair back into something more presentable, face still puffy from your half asleep state as her fist thumped loudly against the door.

with a roll of your eyes you gave up, flipping your head and tying your hair up into a messy bun. poking at the bags under your eyes with a sigh, the impatient knocking continuing as you quickly covered them up with a few dabs of concealer.

"i hope you break your hand." you spoke in a monotone as you flung the door open, barely having ten seconds to step outside before her hands grabbed the collar of your jumper and dragged you out of the room.

"let go less! i'm not four years old trying to run away in a shopping centre for god sakes i don't need you to hold my hand i am an adult." you huffed, ripping your hand away from hers and storming off ahead to the elevator as alessia hung back for a second to wait for ella to catch up.

"might need this though? and everyone says you're the genius in the family." alessia held up your key card which was the only thing that allowed you to enter and exit the elevator, holding it out of your reach.

"say sorry for being so grumpy." alessia demanded with a smug smile as you tried to stretch for the card without luck, your sister always having had a head or two of height on you with her ridiculously long limbs.

"no! didn't you make a big song and dance about not being late for breakfast? because the only one making us late is you!" the older girl groaned as you punched her half heartedly in the stomach, snatching the key as she doubled over.

"mary she's tryna kill me!" you hid behind the taller keeper using her body as a shield as she joined you with grace in tow, alessia sending you daggers from across the elevator as mary chuckled but remained a nice protective barrier between the two of you anyway.

"alessia!" you protested as your sister snatched your plate, dumping what you'd already chosen and picking your food for you, pushing you away every few seconds with her spare hand as you tried to intervene.

"why are you such a mum? i can pick my own food!" you demanded which was dismissed with a flick of her hand, too busy chattering away to ella to pay you and your whinging any attention.

"you have to fuel your body properly and that means a balanced breakfast." the blonde lectured, holding your plate hostage in her hands as she walked off.

with your food held captive you were forced you to follow her as you sent grace a pleading look who only smirked and shook her head, sat at a different table than the one your sister sat down at.

"baby russo! where have you been hiding then? i missed you." lucy pulled you into a hug as you took your seat beside her and across from alessia who finally slid your plate over to you. "hiding from her!" you grumbled, stabbing your eggs and shooting alessia a glare who smiled and wiggled her fingers at you in a sarcastic wave.

you sighed and glanced down at your plate which granted was loaded, but not with everything you'd have put on it thanks to your sisters apparent new nutritionist qualifications.

your face lit up as mary joined the table, subtly dumping two hashbrowns and an extra piece of bacon onto your plate with a wink as she sat on your other side squishing you between her and lucy as the three of you fell into conversation.

"oi baby russo, sarina wants to see ya." you'd finished eating as millie suddenly appeared, nodding for you to follow her as your face paled a little, head swirling with a hundred worries of why she might want to see you, all of them negative.

"i can take her mills." your sister stepped in with a reassuring smile as millie headed off to grab breakfast. "come on." she stood with a flick of her head as mary squeezed your shoulder and stacked your empty plate on top of hers.

following after your sister you didn't speak a single word, holding your breath until you stepped out of the cafeteria and the noise and chatter of the team ceased, exhaling shakily.

"come here." your sister spoke softly and opened her arms as you settled into them, your own wrapping around her torso as she embraced you, chin resting on the top of your head.

"i know all you can think of is bad reasons why she wants to see you, but if you freak out and focus on all of the what ifs then you're going to ruin this opportunity for yourself before we even start." alessia murmured, rubbing your back comfortingly.

"she probably just wants to check how you're settling in and go through the motions with you. so stop overthinking because i can hear your tiny little brain going into a meltdown." she teased lightly as you cracked a smile.

she let you go but her arm slipped over your shoulder drawing you into her side as she walked you down to the office, pausing a couple doors down and turning you to face her.

"i love you, sarina loves you, the girls loves you. this is your moment, grab it with two hands and make the most of it yeah? show them why you got called up and why you've earned a place on this team." her hands settled on your shoulders as if trying to charge you up with confidence as you nodded.

she might be overbearing, overprotective and over dramatic at the best of times. but alessia would always be your big sister and secretly, you'd never tell her this, without her you wouldn't be half the human let alone the footballer you were, and it flooded you with relief to take the plunge into this next step of your career with her by your side.

again you didn't dare to tell her that for fear of the relentless teasing that would follow. but you didn't need to anyway, she already knew, because sisters always know.

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Running an errand together brings out even more sides of Eddie Munson, including one that you wish you'd never seen (5.2k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, parental conflict, poverty, jealousy, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter six: the eye of the tiger

Guilt fit like the shoes your mom forced you to wear as a kid, the dressy ones reserved for special occasions. It pinched at you, dug into you, a constant reminder of its unwelcome presence.

And so you did everything you could to alleviate the discomfort. On Wednesday, Dad mosied into the lobby for his shift to find the floor meticulously swept; there was not a speck of dust in sight. If he had any suspicions, he didn’t bother to show them. He was probably just grateful for the help regardless of its cause.

Mom, as usual, was more skeptical of your intentions, raising a disbelieving brow when you presented her with the bills you’d reorganized by their due dates. You’d offered up the excuse of being bored with nothing better to do. Did she buy it? Unlikely. But she also didn’t pose further questions, choreographing another step in your dance.

And when Dad hung up the phone Friday afternoon, thumb and forefinger massaging the bridge of his nose, you jumped at the chance to fix the situation.

“Everything okay?”

He looked up with a start, too wrapped up in his own thoughts to realize you’d been standing in the doorway. 

“That was Uncle Mo,” he said with an elongated sigh. “The delivery truck won’t start; something’s busted, I guess, so we won’t get our wallpaper until it’s out of the shop.”

“I can go after class,” you volunteered. The shop was a twenty minute bus ride from school, no transfers required. Lugging it on the subway back home might prove more challenging, but you could manage it. 

He dashed your dreams with a swift shake of his head. “They close early for the Sabbath.” Which meant they’d be closed all day tomorrow, too. 

Dad glanced around at the walls, lip scraping over his bottom lip. Their barrenness unsettled him; his pride and joy left empty and exposed.  

Imagine how he’ll feel once this place is boarded up for good. Bet he won’t care about some ugly walls then. 

“I’ll go on Sunday.” The promise practically made itself before you could stop it. Your final paper was due on Tuesday, and you had planned to spend your weekend finishing it, but that would need to take a backseat until the wallpaper crisis was resolved.

You could be part of that solution. For now, at least.

Sunlight teased summer’s beginning and warmed your skin. The walk to the subway station required you to cross paths with the mailbox you’d fought with—and humbly lost to—a few days prior. Dejection shot through your chest as you paused in front of it, focusing on a spot of rusted metal where the paint had flaked off. Short of intercepting the United States Postal Service, there was nothing you could do. Besides, your acceptance was probably already locked inside NYU’s admissions office, sitting among a pile of identical envelopes. Most of them, you suspected, were mailed with exuberance and not with the trepidation you carried. 

The station’s stuffiness engulfed you as you descended the stairs, fingertips brushing the railing to ensure your balance. Your return trip would be short of torture, sweat prickling beneath your arms at the mere thought of dragging wallpaper through the thick humidity. You might have to splurge for a cab to avoid melting completely.

Frantic, impassioned guitar strumming grabbed your attention just before you approached the turnstile, echoing off of the concrete and infiltrating all of your senses. Your breath caught in your throat when you saw that Eddie was the source of the noise. He leaned against the wall as he played an electric guitar—the same one he had clutched so dearly when sleeping at the bus stop. There was no microphone, no amplifier; just him and his instrument. The case was open in front of him, now holding a few scattered dollar bills and some loose change. 

He didn’t notice you, not at first, so you took that opportunity to silently watch him. His head nodded along with the beat, his voice a low timbre as he sang. 

Trust I seek and I find in you 

Every day for us something new 

Open mind for a different view 

And nothing else matters

The chords were nearly drowned out by his vocals, and the softer strumming should have clashed with the harsh lyrics, but he made it work. 

It was somehow even sadder than when Metallica played it, though not from a lack of power. Eddie’s version intertwined anger with desperation, a somber reprise of the gritty original. 

Deft fingers pressed into the frets, the pick pinched between the other hand’s thumb and forefinger. He took a step forward to launch himself into the chorus with a combination of focus and ease. This is what he was meant to do, what he was born to do. Whether he was in front of a captivated audience of thousands or a smattering of indifferent commuters, he was a rockstar. 

Never cared for what they say

Never cared for games they play

Never cared for what they do

Never cared for what they know

And I know, yeah, yeah

Heat blossomed in your belly at his gravelly voice, the way he pulled the notes from the depths of his diaphragm and belted them out. The E train came and went as it screeched along the tracks, but you remained as though the soles of your feet were glued to the ground. 

So close, no matter how far

Couldn't be much more from the heart 

Forever trusting who we are 

No, nothing else matters

For a brief moment after finishing the song, Eddie’s chest puffed out with pride. It quickly faltered in the absence of applause, but before he could play another song, his gaze landed on you. He grinned and shook a stray lock of hair out of his eyes. Part of you wanted to fix it for him, to tuck it behind his ear or sweep it all back into a ponytail, but you refrained. Instead, you dug into your purse and tossed a dollar into the case. 

“Was that the one I gave you for the cab?” Eddie asked, fingers absently brushing over the strings in a series of random chords. 

“Nah, this was from the other asshole guest who made me late for class.”

Your jibe caught him off-guard and he actually laughed with such force that he had to stop playing. “And here I thought I was the only one.” He ran a hand through his hair, wincing as it snagged on a knot. “Are you going to the library or something?”

You lacked the energy to explain that the library was in the opposite direction, opting instead to cut to the chase. “Picking up the wallpaper.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he cocked his head. “I thought it was being delivered.” As you relayed the whole broken-truck saga, he started sliding the guitar strap up off of his back and crouched down, stuffing the money from the case into his pockets. “Cool. I’ll go with.”

“Oh, I wasn’t–” You paused mid-sentence to consider your words. “I mean, you don’t have to. I can do it on my own.”

“S’fine.” Eddie laid the guitar down with the fragility that one would handle a newborn baby and snapped the case shut. “Didn’t realize this station is basically dead on Sundays. I normally just play here during the week, but I’ve been out of commission.” He held up his bandaged finger and pouted impishly.

The familiar playfulness settled back into the conversation, breaking up any lingering awkwardness, and you snatched up the opportunity to tease him. “Ah, right. Your man stuff.”

“Very manly. Burly, some might say.” He extended one hand in front of him, palm up, to gesture towards the turnstiles. “Shall we?”

You led and he followed behind so closely that his chest smacked into your back when you stopped in your tracks. The uneven weight distribution, courtesy of the guitar case lolling at his side, thrusted him forward, the metal buckle on his belt digging into your skin through your shirt. 

It set off a domino effect, one that had you falling face-first to the ground. Before you could even brace for impact, you felt Eddie’s fingers digging into your hip and tugging you upright. The way he caught you was almost reflexive, his grasp controlled enough to avoid bruising your skin, but strong enough that you realized he could if he wanted to. 

“What happened?” His tone was mixed with both concern and amusement; a crackle of laughter broke up his question. 

An embarrassing adrenaline surge shot through you, bringing with it a chill that immediately preceded a heatwave of perspiration. “The, um…” You lamely pointed at the card swipe machines that had replaced the token receptacles. “I forgot that we need those MetroCard things.” 

Eddie let go of your hip and you felt his absence almost immediately. “No, we don’t.” He left no time for questioning, hoisting the case to the other side and pushing himself up and over the bar, landing on his feet with cat-like dexterity. 

You stared at him in disbelief. Sure, you’d jumped the turnstile a time or two, but that was back in high school, under the influence of friends you hadn’t talked to since. 

“What’re you waiting for?” He called out. A Cheshire-cat grin graced his lips. 

What were you waiting for? It’s not like the transit police were scouring the station. The poor schmuck stuck at the now-defunct token booth was exasperatedly trying to explain the new system to an older gentleman; he probably wouldn’t have noticed a wildebeest stampede. And you certainly weren’t eager to contribute to the politicians who lined their pockets with taxpayer money. 

Fuck it. 

In one swift motion—much more graceful than your earlier stumble—you mimicked his actions. One foot, then the other, your biceps supporting your body weight. 

“You little rebel.” Eddie tutted, his smirk showing off his teeth. You never noticed the way one canine is slightly sharper than the other, and it digs into his lower lip. “This is how it starts, y’know. One day, you’re skipping out on train fare; the next, you’re committing armed robbery.”

If he kept rubbing your nerves raw, you might be more tempted to commit homicide. 

Another E train arrived not long after. You were an expert at scouting empty seats, and you made a beeline for the first one you found. There was another one across the way, just vacated by a woman pushing a stroller, and you assumed Eddie would take it. 

Instead, he shoved his guitar case towards you, parting your legs between the knees, and grabbed onto one of the overhead handles. 

“Can you hold this?” Eddie asked belatedly. He rocked forward onto his toes as the train moved to keep his balance. A guitar pick necklace swung out from beneath the vee of his shirt and swayed above you. 

You drank in the way he towered over you, so close that he was all you could see. The mingled scents of the motel’s soap and a musky deodorant wafted off of him and enveloped your senses. For a second, there was only him, and whatever the outside world had to offer was just shy of meaningless. 

“There’s a seat down there.” You peered around him and gestured to the one you’d spotted earlier, careful not to point at anyone. 

Eddie looked but declined with a shrug. “Nah, I’m good. I like standing.”

“See, that’s the kind of thing that separates the natives from the transplants.” You smiled up at him. “You didn’t even want to sit down after a gig? Or a long rehearsal?”

“I didn’t really ever take the subway,” he admitted. “Maybe, like, once or twice.”

You huffed out an incredulous laugh. “How did you get around?” 

“Taxis, car service.” He ticked off the items on his free hand. “One time we rented a helicopter, but then the label threatened to revoke the company card.” He chuckled forlornly, like the memory was heavier than an impromptu helicopter ride. 

“Sounds like you were living the life.”

Eddie shook off his wistfulness with a cheeky grin. “Hell yeah. Expensive restaurants, swanky hotels…did I ever tell you about the time we trashed our room?”

“You did not.” You’re not sure you want to know, considering he’s currently staying in one of yours. 

He laughed. “Get this: we come back to the hotel after a gig. We’re all fuckin’ exhausted. As soon as we walk into the lobby, the night manager is on us like a hawk. I mean, the guy gave a stink eye like you wouldn’t believe.” He tried mimicking him, but he was too upbeat to embody the manager’s full ire. “Anyway, we’re not in the room for five minutes when there’s a knock on the door. Of course it’s that schmuck, warning us about the noise policy.”

You looked at him incredulously. “That’s why you destroyed a hotel room?” 

“Mhm.” Eddie proudly nodded, not missing the way concern furrowed your brow. “Don’t worry, Heiress. I’d never trash your place.”

“I’d have to get Phyllis after you.” Laughter bubbled out of you at his visible cringe, probably thinking of being on the other end of her baseball bat. “Okay, so what’s the dumbest thing you guys bought with the company card?”

People pushed through the aisle as the train pulled up to the stop, elbows nudging Eddie until he was practically on top of you. Every hair on your body stood up at the sudden change in proximity. “Probably one of those stuffed tiger things for our apartment,” he admitted.

“You and your band bought a taxidermied tiger?” You scoffed. 

His face flushed, and he scratched at his jaw like he’d been caught red-handed. “N-No, not the whole band. Just me and the drummer. We, um, she was my girlfriend, I guess.”

Puzzle pieces started falling into place and interlocking curves. His ex-girlfriend was also in the band, which was probably why they broke up once Eddie quit. “How long were you two together?” You instantly regret not asking about the tiger instead, for his sake and yours. 

“Hard to say; we were pretty on-and-off.” Eddie tried to play it off casually but terse laughter gave him away. The subway lurched and Eddie swayed forward again, his knee grazing yours. “But it was about a year from start to finish.”

You let the information sink in. He had a girlfriend in Death’s Echo, but he seemed to be unattached at the moment. Made sense, considering he was living in your motel rather than with a partner.

“That’s what no one tells you about money: it runs out.” Eddie continued. “It’s like, common sense or whatever. But when you have no money and then you get a shit-ton of it, it’s hard to imagine ever going back.” 

His eyes found yours like he had been searching for them, and you held his gaze until a monotone voice crackled over the speaker, announcing that the train was approaching the Forest Hills-71st Avenue station. 

“We have to transfer here.”

Eddie wrinkled his nose, clearly not thrilled by this extra step, but he followed your lead without any audible protest.

“Y’know,” he said as the doors opened, the two of you joining the swarm of people pushing their way out, “my neighborhood back home was also called Forest Hills.”

“Seems fancy,” you quipped. 

He laughed, head thrown back. “Oh, yeah. It’s the most glamorous trailer park in all of Indiana.”

The faux pas curdled in your stomach. What were you thinking? He had just confessed that he was broke before Death’s Echo. 

“Sorry, that was stupid.”

He shrugged off your comment, seemingly unbothered. “How many stops is this next one?”

“Just two.”

He hummed his acknowledgment, and with the R train less crowded than the E, you found seats adjacent to one another.

You did your best to ignore the way his right leg brushed your left, the worn denim against your bare skin as the train jostled him. He murmured a barely-audible “sorry.”

There was no reason for him to apologize, and you almost told him this, but you substituted a tight smile for words. Truthfully, you were glad he confirmed that the touch was accidental. You’d nearly nudged him back, a secret handshake of sorts, and your body burned with the mere prospect of embarrassment.

The train screeched to a stop in front of a sign that barely read 63rd Drive-Rego Park, most of the letters covered in colorful graffiti tags. 

“This is us,” you said, handing him back his guitar so you could stand up. 

Eddie stepped aside with a small bow, equal parts awkward and endearing. “So, uh, where are we going, exactly?” He stayed close enough so you could hear him over the cacophony of commuters. 

“S’just a few blocks.” You maintained your fast-paced stride so as to not get bowled over. 

He kept up with you surprisingly well for someone unused to navigating the city’s public transit. The fresh air welcomed you as you ascended the stairs, leaving behind the station’s mugginess. Conversations and traffic replaced metallic clunking while you weaved in and out of a sea of pedestrians, checking every so often to ensure you hadn’t left Eddie behind. 

Bold white letters on a maroon awning proudly proclaimed Eisen’s Paint and Supply, and the faint sound of bell chimed when you opened the door. A middle-aged man stood behind the counter, eyes lighting up when you walked in. 

“Uncle Mo!” You exclaimed, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. Uncle Mo wasn’t your father’s brother, but their bond went beyond blood relation. He was part of nearly all of Dad’s stories since they’d met in high school: the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

There was more gray in his hair and in his beard than the last time you’d seen him, the lines from his lips to his jaw more pronounced, but he still wore the same cologne that you’d remembered. The familiar scent was like home, a reminder of all of the Thanksgivings your families had spent together before the motel engulfed your life. 

He beamed, his hands bracing your upper arms as he got a better look at you. “Look at you; so grown up!” His eyes misted over for a second before he blinked the moisture away. “How long has it been?”

“Too long.” You turned back to Eddie, waving him over and introducing him. Uncle Mo politely extended a hand that Eddie shook quickly before shoving his fingers back in his pocket. 

“Before I get your paper,” Uncle Mo said to you with a mischievous smile, “I have a bit of a surprise.” The stockroom door swung open on cue and a young man stepped out from behind it. 

Your hand flew to your mouth in shock, every bone in your body vibrating. “Ben?” The name was muffled but still audible, and Ben opened his arms just in time for you to tackle him in an embrace.

His gangly teenage limbs had been replaced with hard muscle, his chest straining through his t-shirt. There was no trace of the wispy excuse for a mustache he’d once proudly sported; his face was freshly shaven, only the slightest evidence of his stubble scratched against your cheek when he pulled you to him. 

“I couldn’t believe it when my dad told me you were stopping by,” Ben said, finally letting go after a few moments. He looked at Eddie as if noticing him for the first time. “Ben. Nice to meet you.”

Eddie said nothing in response, his jaw set and his arms crossed over his chest. Whatever friendliness he’d shown Uncle Mo was clearly not being granted to his son. 

“Ben, this is Eddie,” you hurried to explain before the tension became unbearably dense. “He works for the motel, doing different repairs and odd jobs. Whatever we need, really.”

Your old friend nodded and brought his attention back to you. “Do you guys need help bringing the wallpaper back? I don’t have anything to–”

“We’ve got it.” Eddie cut him off curtly, clipping the conversation’s wings. His eyes narrowed in judgmental assessment and their milk chocolate hue turned dark.

Ben had evidently stepped on his toes; you thought back to the wasp’s nest and his adamance to clobber it with a baseball bat despite your insistence to wait until you bought the spray. You shot Eddie a look that he either disregarded or didn’t notice, because his clenched jaw never loosened. 

“Right, yeah.” A blush crept into Ben’s cheeks, the other man’s brusqueness catching him off-guard. “But we should catch up soon,” he said to you, “maybe grab a cup of coffee?”

It was an effort to ignore the way Eddie tensed up; even more so to pretend like his reaction hadn’t stirred something inside of you. Everything between you and him, and you and Ben, was strictly platonic. Whatever melodrama he’d conjured up was his problem, not yours. 

Your relationship with Eddie teetered between acquaintances and friends; he was in no position to get bent out of shape over you going for coffee with Ben or any other man.

You pushed the intrusive thought away long enough to answer Ben’s question. “Yeah, of course! You’re home for the whole summer?”

“Actually…” Ben’s grin widened, harboring a secret he was eager to spill. “I’m back for good. You’re looking at Dr. Benjamin Eisen, D.D.S.”

“That’s amazing!”

He nodded happily, enthusiasm unrestrained. “Thanks. I’m hoping to open up a practice nearby, so I’ll be sticking around for a while.”

That was the best news you’d heard in a while. The pair of you were once inseparable, always devising plans to convince your parents to extend their visits. When you were six, you’d almost started a fire trying to put on a pot of coffee, hoping that it would coax the Eisens into staying longer. 

Too bad you’d forgotten to add the water. 

Uncle Mo returned from the stock room with rolls of wallpaper, and his son shuffled towards him to take one from his grasp. 

“Are you sure I can’t help out?” Ben tried again. He only looked at you when he spoke. 

You almost took him up on his offer, the reply sitting on the tip of your tongue, but Eddie answered for you. 

“We’re good,” he said flatly, taking the rolls from the other men. “I used to lug around amps all the time. This is nothing.”

He’d uttered the same phrase before taking a bat to a wasp’s nest, and he’d ended up hurt. Still, inviting Ben along would almost certainly guarantee an awkward commute home. At best, you’d force stilted small talk; at worst, Eddie might shove Ben onto the tracks. 

“Thanks anyway,” you said politely, trying to temper your irritation. 

Ben gave a tight smile, brows shooting up when remembered something. “Let me give you my new phone number so we can set up a time to meet up.” He plucked a business card from the little plastic container on the desk, flipping it over and scrawling his number on the back. 

“Sounds great.” It truly did, save for Eddie’s glare that made you grateful looks couldn’t actually kill. 

Tucking the card into your purse, you held him in one last hug before bidding them goodbye. 

Eddie said nothing the entire walk back to the subway station. He strode there despite heaving around a guitar case and cylinders of wallpaper. You suspected he could have flown there if he wasn’t so bogged down. The closest he came to acknowledging your presence was the scoff he let out when you veered off-course to buy a MetroCard. 

You ignored him, still fuming over his behavior towards Ben. With trembling fingers, you dropped your change into the coin slot, acutely aware of his presence as he stood beside you. He was close enough that you could hear his tense sigh, as though his frustration was justified.

Yanking the card out from behind the swinging Plexiglass, you silently stalked over to the turnstile, Eddie begrudgingly hot on your heels. The tiny diagram showed the magnetic strip facing downwards and you did your best to emulate it. After two failed swipes, the machine relented and gave an approving beep.

“Go,” you told Eddie, and when he stared at you blankly, you repeated yourself with considerably less patience. “Go.”

“Okay, okay.” There was no hiding his surprise at your insistence, the sharpness of your tongue. He obviously wasn't accustomed to taking the attitude he dished out. His eyebrows crashed into his hairline as he maneuvered through, wallpaper bumping up against the metal gates. 

There wasn’t enough money left on the card for you, so after a brief glance at your surroundings, you once again lift yourself up and over to the other side. The metal barrier seemed laughably obsolete beneath you.

Eddie blinked twice in rapid succession but composed himself before you reached him again. A peculiar expression graced his face; not so much amusement as much as admiration. If you weren’t so annoyed with him, with his antics back at Eisen’s, you might have cracked a joke about his bad influence rubbing off on you. 

The first leg of the trip—the shortest part, as it were, went smoothly. It was once the E train departed from Forest Hills that it almost immediately halted, the exasperated conductor announcing that extensive track work was causing delays. 

“Fucking great,” you muttered. Experience told you that the remainder of the ride would be stop-and-go, which meant more time spent with Eddie. 

He’d exhaled an exasperated sigh of his own, eyes flickering over the subway car and foot tapping to a beat only he could hear. When he finally spoke, it was the last thing you’d expected him to say. 

“Wanna play I Spy?”

“Um, what?”

“Y’know, I spy with my little eye…” he explained, as though you were confused about the game concept.

It took every last ounce of energy not to burst out laughing at his odd request, though it helped that annoyance still tarnished your mood. “All right. Sure.” 

“Cool.” He glanced around again, rubbing his palms over his thighs in concentration. “Okay, I spy with my little eye, something purple.”

Squinting, you searched for shades of lilac and violet. “That woman’s shirt?” You jutted your chin towards an older woman sitting across the car. 

“Nope.”

“That little girl’s shoes?”

Eddie just shook his head, his dimples gradually deepening with each wrong answer you gave. 

Your next three guesses were also incorrect, and Eddie triumphantly pumped his fist when you admitted defeat. 

“It’s the words on that sign,” he said, pointing to an advertisement for psychic readings. 

It was your turn, and it didn’t take you long to find your target. 

“I spy with my little eye, something…douchey.” Your gaze never left his face, watching the skin crease between his brows as he connected your implication. 

Eddie threw his head back and cackled, drawing the ire of your fellow commuters. You shushed him with a hiss, his apathy only fueling your anger. 

“Fine, I guess I deserved that.” He leaned back in his seat and stretched his arms upwards. For a second, you thought he might drape one over your shoulders, but he brought them right back to his lap. 

���You guess?” You gawped, and he laughed even louder. “You were a total asshole to Ben for no reason.”

Eddie’s voice got feather-soft; you had to lean in to hear him. “Trust me; I had a reason.”

You snorted. “What, him offering to help carry the wallpaper threatened your ‘man stuff?’”

“Something like that.” 

Crossing your arms, you shot him a bemused grimace. Whatever testosterone-laden excuse he concocted would just strengthen your irritation, so you saved yourself the headache and  plundered on. 

“Ben and I have been friends since I was born.” That wasn’t an exaggeration; a photo of one-year-old Ben holding newborn you was tucked away in one of Mom’s albums. Dad had snapped the photo while Uncle Mo sat next to his son, helping cradle your head. You were only a few hours old. “Whatever your problem is, don’t make it mine. Or his,” you add.

Eddie had no response to that, and you preferred it that way. Maybe he was learning not to argue with you, especially when he was so obviously wrong.

Your response halted all conversation for the rest of the extended ride and continued during the short trek back to the motel. The quiet was necessary, but not peaceful, and you refused to buckle when an invisible pull urged you to talk again, to push past the discomfort. If you couldn’t outright tell him that he’d upset you, the least he could do was feel that anger.

“Where do these go?” Eddie asked once the motel’s doors closed behind you. You pointed to the supply closet and he ambled over, wincing as the hinges squeaked in a plea for lubrication. “All right, so, I can get started on this tonight if you want.”

You considered this for a moment before shaking your head. The lobby could survive another night with bare walls, but you needed a break. A break not just from Eddie, but from his naivety to his actions having consequences. 

“Tomorrow’s fine.”

He stilled, his hands halfway in his pockets. “I mean, I was going to stop by anyway; I might as well—”

“I think I just need some quiet tonight.” It was the nicest response you could muster, though the way the words passed through your clenched teeth gave away your annoyance. 

“Oh.” His cheeks puffed out as he exhaled a breath of air, his eyes refusing to meet yours. Confusion tied his tongue, but if he didn’t realize the mistake he’d made, you were in no mood to spell it out. He waited a beat for you to follow up, to iron out the creases with an explanation that had nothing to do with his earlier behavior, but that never happened.

The lack of reassurance pained you, too. You despised leaving matters unfinished; part of you wanted to apologize—for what, you weren’t sure—just to have some resolution. 

Eddie raked his fingers through his curls. “Well, I’m sorry for pissing you off, or whatever.”

Or whatever. Those two words almost had you smacking him upside the head with the wallpaper tubes. Maybe sealing his lips with the glue, too. 

The worst part was the shock on his face when you’d wordlessly stormed out of the supply closet towards your room. Like he had no idea what he’d done wrong or why his non-apology fell flat. 

No, that was a lie. The worst part was actually the pang of disappointment in your chest when there were no footsteps pounding down the hall, no knock on your door, no attempt to talk through the situation. As much as you wanted to be left alone, you’d clutched to an optimistic sliver that he would follow you. It was a pathetic need for proof that he cared about you as more than just his employer. As his friend.

But there was nothing.

That silence hurt most of all. 

--

taglist (now closed ♥):

@theintimatewriter @mandyjo8719 @storiesbyrhi @lady-munson @moonmark98 @squidscottjeans @therealbaberuthless @emxxblog @munson-mjstan @loves0phelia @kthomps914 @aysheashea @munsonsbtch @mmunson86 @b-irock @ginasellsbooks @erinekc @the-unforgivenn @dashingdeb16 @micheledawn1975 @yujyujj @eddies-acousticguitar @daisy-munson @kellsck @foreveranexpatsposts @mykuup @chatteringfox @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @sapphire4082 @katethetank @sidthedollface2 @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @mysteris-things @mrsjellymunson @josephquinnsfreckles @the-disaster-in-waiting @eddielowe @hugdealer @rip-quizilla @munson-girl @fishwithtitz @costellation-hunter @cloudroomblog @emsgoodthinkin

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Show Me Off (You Won’t)

Pairing: College!Aaron x Reader

Summary: Aaron can’t promise you an commitment, never has. Yet you still hold onto hope that maybe one day everything will change. Warnings: some descriptions of smut, modernized!Aaron, fuckboy!Aaron.

He likes kissing me

In his car when it's late and it's dark

It all started out with just a simple match on tinder, back when the semester first started. Aaron Hotchner had been your crush way back in high school, and it just so happened he was going to the same college as you.

You recalled how excited you were, the butterflies mindlessly fluttering in your stomach the first time he asked you over late at night. It was like a dream come true, until it wasn’t. A consistent pattern occurring of “u up?” texts, and him only talking to you when he wanted to have sex.

Now here you were months later, currently parked in the dorm lot, your tongue completely indulged between Aaron’s lips like many other nights. He tasted of cherry and whiskey, his hair a mess from your hand flowing through his hair at the back of his head, pulling him in deeper and deeper, needing more. 

Breaking away, the shadows of people walking in the streetlights reeled him out of the trance you had him in.

Following his eyes, you curled in on yourself, wrapping your arms around your torso, slouching back in the leather seat in defeat, realizing what the problem was. It was the same every-time.

After a moment and they were out of sight, Aaron nodded to the door and you followed his lead. Why you still did, you were unsure. Maybe it was out of hope, hope that this could be more and he’d set aside the stupid college fraternity standards.

Aaron was a popular guy, dated all the cheerleaders, played football, cheated on most of his tests, the complete opposite of yourself, but you saw the good in him, and he was a lot like you. He read books, wrote journals, taken an interest in charities, but none of his peers knew that side of him and that’s how he wanted it, how he needed it to be. Regardless of the profound feelings you’d developed for him.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Let’s go inside.” He smirked cooly at you, causing your cheeks to burn a rosey shade of red when he called you pretty. Only thing was you wanted to be his pretty girl.

He likes holding me

In his bed, shut the door, turn the lock

His roommate was out of town visiting family, but he locked his bedroom door just in case before closing the blinds, stripping himself of his clothes. He noticed the silence in you, that frown you wore when you were upset, but he’d play it off like it was nothing because he knew at the end of the day you’d be back in his bed, sneaking in and out. All he wanted was a quick fuck with a pretty girl, and you were it. No strings attached the way he wanted it.

“You alright?” You simply nodded, a small smile finally appearing once he jumped in the bed, immediately peppering you with kisses as he tickled your sides, trying to make you laugh.

When his lips reached that sweet spot in the crook of your neck, you found yourself once again becoming desperate to have him inside you. 

Aligning his hardened member with your dripping hole, he thrusted up, your inner walls devouring him sweetly. 

He cracked a joke about how eager you were, and finished within ten minutes, pulling out and releasing his seed on your stomach, just like the times before. He’d kiss you goodnight, and pull you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. 

This wasn’t the first night you stayed up after he fell asleep, wondering and desperately wishing for him to just reciprocate your feelings. 

He'll say I'm pretty outside the bar

Then I'm just a stranger when we walk in

I want a witness, I want a garden

He wants the blinds drawn, he wants a fence

You were tired of being just the girl he casually fucked. It was killing you inside, your heart ached whenever you saw him hanging out, touchy with other girls. The numerous times you noticed he was active but hadn’t responded to you all day. You wanted to express your feelings without driving him away. 

What were you supposed to feel? How could he not feel more, want more, a relationship at that?

You stayed up staring at his shallow breathing, brushing his cheek lightly with the palms of your hand just staring at his beauty, trying to figure him out but you didn’t give up hope, not yet.

After a moment, you curled your legs around him, holding him closely to your heart.

“Hmm..” He hummed in his sleep, the member in his pants hardening once more. 

“Round two?” He spoke sleepily. A quiet giggle escaped your lips before going under the sheets.

You just hadn’t quite made the connection entirely yet that each intimate moment shared with him was leaving you more in a mess, making it harder to leave each time.

I know when the sun is up

I know when tomorrow comes

I know when my clothes are on

He'll never show me off

Awaking from your deep slumber, you wiped at your eyes, glancing over to Aaron’s side of the bed, unsurprised yet disappointed he wasn’t there next to you. He’d never kiss you goodbye, or say he was leaving, it was almost like a routine now for you to gather your belongings and sneak out the back window to walk to your dorm. Occasionally stopping for a coffee or just to sit down in a cafe. The profound feelings for him always found a way to creep back in, like a stranger breaking into a house only it was Aaron breaking in and tearing your heart a part.

At mid day, you were sat at the library, seated by the window with your coffee when Aaron walked in with a few of his friends. You glanced up at him in his leather jacket and blue jeans, attempting to wave a coy ‘hello’ to him to which he disregarded. You pulled your sleeves down, frowning insecurely before gathering your things and leaving to go cry painful tears in your car.

All it ever was, was a glance and him chattering on with his friends, which hurt you, shattered your heart.

You’d sit up waiting and waiting every night for him to text you. It was a vicious cycle that was playing with your head. Your mind was telling you to stop and leave but your heart wasn’t allowing any such thing. Even when you felt like things were progressing, or one step closer to becoming official, he’d go radio silent.

Not on a busy street

Not where anyone could see

Does he know it's killing me?

He'll never show me off

That night he texted you continuously. After you didn’t respond to the normal “u up?” text, he apologized over and over again, anything to get you back in his bed.

“Babeee”

“Come over, I miss you.” Your efforts to ignore him went down the drain when he said he missed you. After rolling around in many different positions in your bed, you found yourself packing an overnight bag and responding to him.

Standing at his door way

And I'm hopin' everything will change this time

Pulling into the drive, a whirlwind of emotions struck you like lightning in a treacherous storm. What if you were just hurting yourself more, ruining a true love with somebody else, wasting your time on Aaron Hotchner once more. 

Hanging your head in your shaking hands, tears brimmed at your eyelids as you questioned what in the hell you were doing back here. 

Gathering your belongings, wiping the astray tears away, you checked yourself in the mirror to ensure you looked well enough out together before exiting the car.

The warm summer breeze swam through your hair, as you approached his door, arms locking together around your torso. 

Upon Aaron opening the door, he didn’t quiet you like once before, maybe there was a small light at the end of the slowly dimming tunnel of hope.

His pearly white smile, and the way his white tanktop hung tightly around his chest, his voice sounding of pure ivory and silk, with a hint of playfulness when he spoke.

“There’s my girl!” In a swift movement, his arms hung, draping beneath your thighs as he picked you up spinning you around causing your bag to drop down to the concrete, taking you by surprise.

You giggled gleefuly, breathing in his strong mint scent as you nuzzled into the warmth of his neck, blushing profusely. In that moment everything just seemed like water under the bridge.

“I missed you so much, I’m so sorry about today. I really am Y/N.” The tone of his voice sounded caring, almost painfully as if he truly was sorry this time. Slowly dropping you down, his tall figure, and beading brown eyes searched yours before leaning down and connecting his lips to yours, hand settling on the side of your cheek, as he poured his heart and soul into every part of you, tongue delving further and further with each passing second.

Time was irrelevant in that moment, all your worries washed away like a tidal wave, his lips the smooth sand, softening with each landing on the shore of your lips.

Pulling away, he settled his forehead against yours, when the cloud rolled in pouring drizzling drops of rain on your head. Laughing, he shielded your temple, picking up your bag and swaying you inside.

Upon entering the dorm, beer bottles, and open packs of cigarettes lay astray, yet his roommate still wasn’t here, or anyone for that matter.

“I hope you don’t mind the mess. Brandon went on vacation with his family, won’t be back for about a week. So I figured why not enjoy it while we can.” Oh, so that’s all this was? Things haven’t changed then. Hiding your frown, not wanting to have another argument about this, you attempted at a small smile before following behind him to his bedroom, acting as if you were okay.

I like how it sounds

When he sings to himself in the shower

I like how he looks

When the sun hits him at golden hour

Awakening the following morning, tangled up in the sheets he was still next you, actually awake, staring at you with immense interest while he gently combed your hair. “Did anyone ever tell you, you look quite adorable when you’re sleeping, even when you’re snoring.” There was that glimmer of hope again, because something new happened. He’d never stay and wait for you to wake up. Embarrassed by your snoring, you gripped the sheets, pulling the thin fabric over your face only for Aaron to now allow it. His fingers roaming near you, tickling your sides profusely as you laughed and giggled. 

“Have you been watching me this whole time?” Aaron grinned, hand coming up to cup your chin before placing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. “How could I not with how cute you are?”

After a moment of silence he suggested a shower, to which you happily obliged. 

Watching him removed his shirt, the sun peered in, his skin glowing from the light, illuminating his muscular features.

Turning on the water, he motioned for you to join him, pulling you in swiftly by your hips, before he began to sing. He was a terrible singer but it was adorable to see him try. Things really felt like maybe the pieces were slowly falling into place.

I say I like when we're late night talking

Then he goes quiet, won't let me in

I want a witness, he's staying guarded

He wants the blinds drawn, I just want him

The night continued on smoothly, he even took you to see a film you’d been talking of for months, thought it was odd that the theater was an hour away when there was one just around the corner from the school.

But any thoughts washed away when he made love to you in the backseat of the car in a parking lot of an abandoned building.

Now here you were sitting at a table playing cards with him, slightly tipsy from the liquor run you made on the way.

The night was going swimmingly and he really opened up. Talking of his interests, hobbies, even some family stories, the most you’ve ever gotten out of him in one sitting. That’s when the feelings bubbled back up in your stomach, needing to know if there was a possibility for more.

“Go fish.” When you didn’t grab another card, he waved his hand in your face playfully.

“Helloooo, earth to Y/N. Something on your mind?” He took a drink from his beer, glancing down at his phone and clearing a notification from what looked like to be a girl named Jessica

“What’re we doing Aaron?” When he looked back up, you sat there solemnly with a quizzical, hurting expression on your face.

“Well I’m waiting on you to take your turn.” He laughed softly, setting his beer down on the table and putting his phone in his pocket.

“Why can’t we date? I mean you’ve really opened up to me. I’m here almost every other night and you know how I feel about you.” His lips pressed firmly together as he cracked open another beer, suddenly not being able to connect his eyes to yours.

Pushing the chair back, you flailed your arms, trying to hold back from crying.

“Why!? Tell me why? I have been nothing but good to you. Every night you- you text me, you’ve been vulnerable, loving, and then when the next day comes, nothing! You give me nothing while i’m left hanging like a thin string in the wind, consumed by my love for you! Why won’t you just let me in.” Your voice cracked, fragility holding onto every word. His eyebrows raised in surprise. 

“Y/N. I think you should go. You knew from the start I didn’t want a relationship.” 

“Oh that’s rich coming from you. It really is.” You picked up the beer, finishing off what was left before slamming the glass bottle back down onto the table and making your way to his room to gather your things. 

Making your way to the door, the tears started to flow and you glanced back over to him, still sitting there lighting a cigarette, completely unbothered.

“Did any of those nights mean anything to you? Anything at all?” Watching him with intent, pained eyes. He still didn’t talk, just continued to smoke, wouldn’t even look in your general direction, it was like you weren’t even there.

Your heart was breaking in half while your hand turned the doorknob in disbelief.

“Don’t attempt to contact me ever again. I will not keep going through this emotional turmoil with you. You broke my heart Aaron Hotchner. I just hope someday you come to the realization it doesn’t matter what other people think, the realization to grow up and be a good man. Not one that toys with a woman’s heart.” Slamming the door you left, walking to your dorm crying, still trying to comprehend that you’d no longer see Aaron anymore, and the thought of him with another woman killed you but this was for the best. Even if it meant losing the man you loved, but did you ever really have him?

[peachsukii]

₊✩‧₊◜ coping with the accident (pt.2)

『 ♡ - k.bakugo x fem!reader 』 tw/cw: mentions of hospital equipment but happy ending!! ⋆ ˚ʚɞ — pt. 2 as requested! hope you enjoy @queenpiranhadon ♡ ( part one ) -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

Katsuki laid in the grass, the small wisps tickling his skin in the breeze. The sunlight’s warmth comforted him, reminiscent of a cherished childhood blanket. He doesn’t remember walking to the riverbank, or really…anything at all about the day. The last thing he could recall was being on patrol with Kirishima. It was cloudy that day, too - nothing like the current forecast.

‘Did I pass out?’ The thought echoes through the caverns of his mind.

Maybe he was dreaming the world around him, creating the ideal paradise for his soul. Regardless of how he got here, the peace it offered him was unmatched to anything he’s felt before. It was…strange.

‘Where the hell is everyone?’

Katsuki could hear faint whispers every now and again, sometimes the sounds of unknown technology droning and beeping at random. He felt a squeeze on his hand a little while ago, confused by the foreign sensation when he saw nothing there.

He rose slowly, careful with his movements as he scanned his surroundings. No one else was around - he was completely alone.

Suddenly, Katsuki was overwhelmed with the urge to lay in the river. He begins to make his way to the edge, wading into the water with his boots on. The river wasn’t deep by any means, just enough to come to his knees. The current flowed softly around him as he laid on the surface, floating blissfully in the cool stream.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him in the moment as Katsuki’s eyes fluttered closed.

‘So…tired,’ he thought, unable to fight the drowsiness building inside him. His vision was fading to black until a splash nearby startled him out of his tranquil haze.

You appeared above him, observing curiously with your brows scrunched together and hair hanging in front of your face.

“What are you doing in the river, Kat?” you ask, tilting your head. He blinks a few times before finding the words to respond.

“I…don’t know.”

A zealous laugh erupts from your throat. Katsuki’s heart flurries at the sound of your voice, emotions welling from deep within himself. You shuffle around his body and extend your hand for him to take.

"Come on, Katsuki. Let's go home."

He takes your hand like it's the most fragile thing in the world.

The landscape around the two of you begins to dissipate as he rises from the river. Everything is swirling into puffs of smoke - including you. He tries to say 'don't go!' but the words halt on his lips, unable to vocalize his feelings.

And then...it happens.

Without warning, Katuski's eyes shoot open - a raspy breath escaping his lungs. He shakes his head to fix his sight and pixelate the world into focus. The fluorescent lighting of the hospital hallway reflects off the tiles and creates a dim hue in the room.

He has a million questions, his brain playing catch up with reality while he analyzes the setting around him. That's when his gaze falls downward and sees...you. You're fast asleep, hunched over in the uncomfortable plastic chair with your head on the hospital bed - hand tangled with his.

Katsuki sighs to himself, letting his lips curl into the softest smile he could muster. He rubs his thumb over the back of your hand, causing you to wake from your slumber. He can see the glistening of tears forming in your eyes through the darkness. Your mouth moves, but nothing comes out - you're too overwhelmed with emotion. So, he decides to fill the silence for you.

"I'm home."

he deserved a happy ending ♡

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[chrollohearttags]

LICK BACK

it didn’t take long before the rumor mill began to hit the last place anyone wanted it to. Chatter and discourse circulated among everyone over at AMG. From staff and crew to the top level..concerned about what it meant, not only for the PR manager and her clientele but the company as a whole. Honestly, it all seemed more like some sick, deluded fever dream. There was no way that a photo from years ago, taken completely out of context and held zero weight was creating all of these problems! Although they were both young and there were a lot of drugs and alcohol involved the night that said picture was snapped, they both were adamant in the fact that nothing came of it. There was no way in hell that she’d even entertain the idea of sleeping with EJ. The thought alone made her skin crawl. She didn’t see it for him then and damn sure didn’t now. And vice versa. And even on the off chance there was some forgotten one night stand…what did it matter now anyways?! They had obviously both moved on and there were zero romantic, sexual or otherwise feelings there. Whoever decided to dredge these up from the archives was either bored, miserable or mad as hell over something. Could’ve been a mix of the three..who knows. But what was certain, was that this had to be fixed and quickly..before everything fell apart!

pacing the floor of her high rise condo, purchased for work years ago, the talent scout nursed her glass of wine as she trembled. Fear and anxiety had taken over her entire body…her eyes bloodshot from crying for hours on end. Her heart felt as if it were going to explode from her chest..it was all too much to bear.

“So what are you going to do? Everyone seems to believe that something happened. Even if it was years ago, it’s going to be hard to convince the world that there’s nothing going on.”

“I’m sorry, Aunt Vivi but I’m not worried about convincing the world of anything. They’ll talk and believe what they want regardless. I’m only concerned with what my husband and (y/n) thinks. They’re the victims in all of this…they don’t deserve to have to deal with it.” But alas, she was wrong. Although that was her main priority, she failed to take into consideration how the rest of her clientele must’ve been feeling. She was the public relations manager..the quintessential fixer who made problems go away…if she was knee deep in her own scandal, how the hell could they trust her to get rid of theirs? It was a nightmare!

finally feeling as if the unbearable weight had caught up to her, Mikasa plopped down on a nearby couch, where her aunt and creative director Vivian Ackerman was seated. The older woman would cradle her niece’s head onto her chest akin to the way she had when she was younger. In truth, she was the only adult in her life who had actually taken the time to see her as a child in her adolescence rather than some machine; the ideal artist who moved on everyone else’s time but with her, she could be herself. And right now, the thing she needed most was a shoulder to cry on. To let her frustrations out.

“He left for his tour last night..didn’t even say goodbye. Once social media started talking, he went to a hotel and didn’t say a word. But the look on his face? I'd never seen him in pain like that. When I called him..he didn’t even answer. But then I found his ring on the nightstand. That and the necklace I gave him when he first started playing in my band. He never took that stupid thing off for anything….I guess it’s really over, huh? I screwed up..”

she could feel herself slipping further into despair. The thought of losing the one man who’d always given her the world. The man she joked, laughed and had more fun with than anyone. Who saw her flaws as perfections, accepted her in any way. The love of her life, Jean was gone and now her sweet (y/n) was pissed too. She had blocked her everywhere and was refusing to answer her or Eren’s calls. He told her that (y/n) had someone send for the rest of her belongings and that she wouldn’t be coming back. And EJ was in worse shape than she was. Not even bothering to get out of bed. How could they possibly convince you or anyone else that this was all a huge misunderstanding. But what shocked them both was that there was a single post uploaded to her Instagram page with her on a private jet. Tan leather seats surrounding her along with some roses. She sat posed as if she were straddling someone’s lap and her bare back was facing the camera with her face out of the frame. And coiled around her? Were tattooed arms with some rather familiar looking ink. The caption simply read “having my way.” Comments were shut off for the post so no one could have a field day underneath but trust, the alarm bells were going off something crazy. But one thing was for certain…when it was all said and done, those two would be the ones left crying!

“You think that was a little too much?”

“For what they did? Please..they’re lucky their asses aren’t dead right now. I’d say they got off easy.”

because right now..you were on a flight, headed to Europe. Lying in bed, draped in sheets as they caressed your naked body. But the linen wasn’t the only thing touching you. Right now, those very same arms and hands from the photo were rubbing and caressing your body. Only after using them to bounce you up and down on him. Some might say it was one hell of an overreaction to something that couldn’t be confirmed but fuck it, it shouldn’t have gotten this far. And as for who was helping you exact this little cruel act of revenge?

“Besides…I think this is much better. They can sit and think about that shit while we have some fun. Not like it’s the first time. What do you think?”

“I think you’re right..”

that too would remain a mystery!

[queenie-the-court-jester]

circus x gn!reader

ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please, raise your hands for tonight's star act, mx.maddox and the wanderer's!

★Waking up in a thick black fog was not something you'd ever expect to happen to you. Looking around, Spotting a circus in the distance, was pretty much your only hope of finding a way out. What were they doing out here? Were they in the same boat as you? Regardless, you just hoped they're nice..

★kri was the first to meet you, having found you wandering around outside the circus tents, he quickly introduced himself and asked you where you came from. After explaining your predicament, he nodded in thought

"gee.. that sounds rough.. but don't worry, I'm sure Maddox will know what to do, come with me!"

★Maddox had been stuck in the circus for a long while, along with the other residents. Kri opened the flap into his tent and quickly explained the situation.

"I'm sorry for your predicament young one.. but im afraid we don't know any way out.. on the other hand, you are welcome to stay and be apart of the circus"

★having no other options you accepted, kri excitedly dragging you to the nursery, where all the children and young adults stayed. He introduced you to jiro, Kyo and wendy. Explaining how the four of them were the clowns

★jiro welcomed you with a kind smile, and nodded his head as greeting. You noticed how he didn't seem like much of a talker, preferring to watch and listen

"welcome y/n, I hope you enjoy your stay here"

★Kyo was obviously the most energetic of the bunch, happily blabbering about whatever and making horrible jokes. His friends only gave a small laugh and pat on the back

"it's great to see a new face, come to me if you need a picker upper okay?"

★and last but not least, Wendy. She stayed quiet, giving a shy smile and looking away whenever you'd make eye contact. She shook your hand and soon left, having seemed uncomfortable

"don't mind her... She just needs time getting used to everything, she'll come around"

★they assigned you a bed, and that's how your life at the circus started. Everyone was very welcoming, everyone but wendy. Often staring at you wearily and from a distance. 'Till one night, she came into your tent after everyone went to sleep

"shhh.. I'm sorry for bothering you this late butI need to talk to you.."

"..okay? What is it you need?"

"I'm sorry if I've been coming off as.. distant.. it's just.. you remind me of something that feels so familiar, but I can't put my finger on it.."

"oh..."

"..as you already know, everyone calls me wendy, so you can too I guess.. sorry, did that come off as cold? I'm not really used to Talking to new people.. a-anyways, if you need anything, or if you have any questions.. you can come to me"

"I'll.. keep that in mind, thank you Wendy"

★she gives you a smile and leaves soon after, quickly rushing away. The next few days, she slowly starts talking to you. Opening up bit by bit

"you know.. everyone calls us the dream team, but I really don't think we're suitable for that name. Even Maddox calls us a nightmare!"

"yeah, because you're the main factor to that assumption"

"Wendy.."

"...sorry"

★during your stay with them, you learned that Wendy showed up at the circus just a few days before you, no wonder she seemed so distant. Sometimes she'd say random words in Spanish, most likely cussing kyo out

★their roles in their act goes like this: jiro and kri are the sideshow, doing tricks and all sorts of things while Kyo and wendy were the mains. Acting out many silly stories and using slapstick humor most of the time.

★the first time you saw them in their costumes you nearly had a heartattack. Imagine seeing four scary looking clowns just staring at you ominously from the darkness

★they perform for these shadow people that would come to the circus, nobody knows what they are or why they show up, but there were rumours that once, long ago, the previous circus inhabitants refused to perform for them and.. well.. they had to be "replaced"

★during one of the dream teams acts, you wandered off. Exploring the back tents and dressing rooms when you came across multiple people you recognized, from when they all welcomed you into their little family

★a ballerina named Odette, who was next in line for the show. She seemed sweet as she waved at you from her dressing room, waving back you quickly left

"oh! Hello y/n, do you need something?"

★samson the beast tamer, a peculiar cocky man. He bowed as he dragged a lion by a chain collar behind him. You sincerely hoped they didn't mistreat the animals like other circuses, but judging by the lions calm and obedient attitude, maybe it was domesticated?

"good day sweets"

★will the stuntsman. He gave you a devilish grin as he passed by you, carrying some metal pipe. Giving a wave and smile in return

"see ya later toots!"

★maybe living in the circus won't be so bad..?

[peachesofteal]

Farmer’s Market

This is the same pairing as Double Espresso, but you don't necessarily need to read it to read this.

Simon Riley/reader (hint of Soap/Ghost) 1.4k words Warnings-tags: inferred trauma, PTSD. Pining. Simon sees you again. This is another ramble that I wrote without editing, mind the mistakes.

Simon doesn’t know how to hold a fragile thing. He doesn’t have the stomach for love, or tenderness, or being held himself. He doesn’t know how to make his touch something of affection, and not anguish, and hasn’t known for a very long time.

Soap tried to teach him, once. Tried to hold him together and keep him from ripping apart. Tried to touch him beyond the surface, beneath his skin, to where his soul is rotted and festering, where dark scars of pain are embedded deeper than the memories that have infected his brain. 

It didn’t work. Simon knows it frustrated Johnny, but they both try not to dwell on it. It brings him shame, and he tries to push it from his mind like Johnny tried to push past the roadblock but in the end, they both failed. Johnny believes everything is okay regardless. He does not judge Simon. 

Simon is not convinced everything is okay. 

It’s not Johnny’s fault that Simon is this broken thing. Something worse than broken, actually. Something wrong. Unnatural. Like he’s died a million times over and come back worse and worse, each rebirth a fresh brand of wickedness upon his body.  He’s made his peace with it. 

At least, he thought he did. Until that day he saw you in the café. When he went running like he was still a scared child. 

Now, he’s dreaming about you. He’s dreaming about your voice, about the way the light reflects in your irises like a kaleidoscope, dreaming about the way your fingers turned the pages of the book, delicate and slow. He’s even dreaming about how those fingers might feel against in his skin, and instead of feeling horrified, he feels safe. Loved. Cherished. The dreams don’t turn to nightmares, no dark creatures crawl from the corners of his mind to gnaw on him, they don’t try to tear him apart like he’s used to. 

It's confusing and frightening. 

Maybe you were magic. Maybe you were magic, and you cast some sort of spell on him. And that’s why he keeps seeing you in his dreams, your body lit like up like a star, a heavenly glow spilling from your skin and bathing him in a gauzy cocoon of hope. 

It makes him uncomfortable. 

So, he puts you out of his mind. He saw you a single time, why is he dreaming about you? Why is the image of your face, the sound of your voice flitting through his brain at all hours of the day and night? He feels infected. 

He takes an extra-long assignment. And then another one. And then before he knows it, three months have passed, and he believes he’s been nearly successful in wiping you from his mind and memories, losing his grasp on the melody of your voice, forgetting the magic he felt when he first saw your face. He mourns it, privately. Mourns the impossible dreams and fantasies of something he knows he’ll never have, something he would never be deserving of. 

He believed he had cured himself of you. 

But, he was wrong. 

The farmer’s market felt like a dream. 

He watched you, unable to move, frozen to the spot as you leaned forward to inspect a group of vegetables, bright orange carrots with sprouts of green at their tops, eyes searching carefully for your selection, head nodding along to whatever the farmer behind the table was saying to you. Simon’s heart thundered in his chest while you exchanged money with the man and deposited your bunch of carrots in your canvas bag with a smile, carefree and easy in the warmth of the summer sun. Was he dreaming? He hadn’t been sure. He remembered needing to go the market to pick up some produce, something to last him the next week or so before he left for the next op, but suddenly, he had forgotten how he arrived here. He had forgotten what he had already purchased. He had forgotten almost everything, except for the shadow of a memory that was pushing him closer and closer to where you slowly walked in front of stalls, scanning the offerings and nodding hello to everyone you passed. 

You come to a stop in front of a flower table. He watches you trace your fingertips over the petals, longing flickering across your face, bottom lip tugging between your teeth. You seem indecisive and he wonders if you’re considering them for a lover, or a friend, someone in your life that you buy nice things for. Does anyone give you lovely things in return?

Your fingers wrap around the stems carefully, and you place the bouquet in your bag slowly, treating the blooms like they’re glass, cautious with them and ensuring they’re settled where they won’t bruise or break. Your care for their state makes his pulse flutter beneath his skin. 

You’re good with fragile things. 

He’s just about to slink away when you turn, everything slowing to a snail’s pace as you catch sight of him from the corner of your eye, recognition dawning on your face when you realize who he is. 

And then to his complete horror, your feet begin to move. You start to walk towards him, a hand extended as if to say wait. Wait, don’t go. 

“Hi.” You say. Hi. Somewhere in the back of his too thick skull he knows he’s supposed to say hi back, say hello, apologize for being a bloody creep, but his lungs feel frozen, and his throat feels tight. You wait, head tilted just so, enough to expose the satin skin on the underside of your jaw, and to his utter shock, he finds himself wondering for a moment, what that skin might taste like. What noises you might make if he put his lips there. He blinks when he realizes you’re speaking again, brain cycling to catch up to your words. “- a few months ago, right?” The café. You’re referencing the café. 

SAY SOMETHING. ANYTHING. SPEAK. He’s screaming inside. Pleading with himself. 

But still, he says nothing, and then watches your sweet face melt into something confused, something wary before it shifts into an emotion he cannot name and-

You say your name. You say it slowly, moving your lips in an exaggerated fashion, like you think he can’t understand you. Your pointer finger jabs into your own chest, to reference yourself. You gave him your name. Why would you do that? He scolds you silently. He could be anyone, a sick man who wants to harm you, who wants to take things from you, things you would never give him. He could be a killer, for all you know. Why would you give a stranger your name? 

He is a killer. 

When he doesn’t say anything back, you chew on your lip and kick the toe of your leather boot into the ground, bobbing your head. Bloody hell. He’s embarrassed you. Shame scalds the back of his neck, and he averts his eyes, flicking them downwards to your bag, where the colorful group of flowers sit against your hip. You follow his gaze. 

“Here.” you rush the word out from your mouth, and pluck a stem free, pulling a brilliantly shaded orange dahlia from the bag and holding it out to him. “For you.” Your face is hopeful, wistful, like you actually want him to have the flower. This must be a dream. 

This cannot be real. 

He reaches for it. He cannot stop himself, even if he tried. Even if he wanted to, which he does not. In this moment, he really, really wants that flower. Wants to take it home, press it between a too thick book and then slip it between two pieces of glass so he can keep it forever. 

His fingers touch the stem. 

The tips of yours just barely graze his skin and he holds his breath, waiting for the nausea, for the panic to come bubbling up his throat. 

They don’t. 

Instead, something else happens. His stomach flips, but not in a sour way. His body tenses, but not in a fight or flight way. His heart, the thing that has been trembling inside his chest this entire time, skips a beat. 

This must be a dream. 

You’re three meters away when he rockets back into consciousness, mouth blurting the only thing it can manage in that moment. 

“Simon.” He calls to your back, and you stop in your tracks to face him, tiny smile tugging at your lips. 

“Nice to meet you, Simon.” 

[so-mordor-itis]

I SAW THE PROMPT LIST AND

“can’t sleep?” + “promise me you’re still gonna be here when I wake up.”

for our boy leon..

- yes to heaven anon 🤍

Man I thought of an idea and I definitely couldn't get it out of my head so I hope you enjoy this <3

Reader and Leon are from Eye on You

I changed up the prompt a little bit I hope that's okay!

"Hush, love, close your eyes and in sleep abide"

1998

Cold air blew across your shoulders the moment you entered the hospital room. Heavy bleach and the smell of utensils wafted through you, making your shoulders sag. It was hard not to be nervous in a room where the most urgent news was carried, where the bloodied and sickly were told how their life might end. You fiddled with the helm of your sleeve when you saw Leon under the thin, blue sheets of a bed, the sky blue of a hospital gown underneath bandages scattering from his shoulder to his chest.

You immediately hated the image of it.

His eyes were closed, and you had hoped he was getting the rest he needed.

Visitors besides family weren't allowed past 8, but you fibbled a little, stating you were his lover and definitely considered family. It wasn't a full lie since he did ask you out, but you knew he would ask questions when he was more aware of what you did. You'd walk across that bridge when you'd get there.

You sat in a chair beside his bed. It groaned as you did. You sighed a little of relief when it didn't disturb his slumber. Part of you wanted to take in the peace before the storm, before he opened up the can of worms and told you what exactly happened to him. A deep pit formed in your stomach at the possibilities. The wound on his shoulder wasn't ordinary. You weren't stupid.

Regardless of what would happen next, you'd be there for him.

You bit your lip to prevent yourself from laughing at your boldness. Since when had you grown so attached to him?

You shook your thoughts away. None of that mattered. You strapped yourself in this ride, and you would see it through.

You scooted your chair closer to brush some stray bangs from his face. Your heart nearly gave out when he shuffled closer.

Yep, you were strapped in for good.

2005

You didn't really dream anymore. Visions of fantasies created from your own consciousness were replaced with memories. Most were pleasant; your high school graduation, when you first met Leon--before the mess with Raccoon City. That one wasn't as often as it used to be. Perhaps now because you found tranquility with everything. How he went from this springy, happy-go-lucky man to someone who was more guarded but still had that young man deep down. Leon just only showed him to those he trusted. You probably were allowed to gaze at that young man more than others.

Your eyes fluttered open with disagreeable ease, a stinging sensation crowded around them once the realization you were awake kicked in. You moved your legs a little in an attempt to find comfort, but a small barrier from behind made it difficult. You couldn't help the smile forming on your lips.

Protective arms wrapped around your form, creating a cage. One leg was propped against your own, the other beneath. Over the years, Leon made it a habit of being as close as he could get, and while you didn't mind this, he sometimes didn't realize how much of a human space heater he was. You always felt safe despite that.

You wanted to stay in this position to feel his gentle breathing and let it lull you back to sleep as if it were a lullaby, but the urge to remove yourself and stretch your legs became more palpable.

However, you knew what would happen the moment you detached yourself from his cage. Leon would immediately know--an alarm would sound in his brain, and he'd wake up to empty arms and immediately search for you like a lost puppy. You'd then feel guilty for waking him. This song and dance had been done more than once.

Your mind and body fought for a second, but ultimately, your body won the argument. You shuffled your way out of his arms and sat up, your vision still adjusting to the darkness of the bedroom. An image from the recent memory that woke you flashed in your mind, and you frowned.

Not what you wanted to see.

You crossed the threshold to access the kitchen. The clock on the stove glared 4:35 at you. You grabbed a plastic cup from a cupboard and filled it as quietly as you could. You took a sip as you tossed a glance toward the archway that led to the living room.

After nearly 7 years together, you knew his mind and his thought process. You had your own Leon clock planted inside your head, and it made you wonder if he had one for you in his own.

Any minute now. You thought, guilted poked at your chest. You truly hated waking him up. While it gave you ingress to his sleepy voice and pillow-made messy hair, he desperately deserved rest.

You took another sip and frowned again. Of all memories that could've popped up, why that one? The one of him in a hospital bed, bloodied arm wrapped in a guaze, pale face from all the medications he was pumped with. It wasn't your favorite memory for good reason.

As if right on cue, you heard shuffling and a yawn. "Baby?" Leon called, his voice still loopy. Nearly 30, and he still sounded so young when he was filled with sleep.

"In here," you uttered, your own voice hoarse. "Just getting water."

More shuffling, and finally, he emerged from the darkness of the hallway. He dirty blond hair was askew, and he blinked as his own eyes were adjusting to the dim lighting of night. You showed him a simper. "I woke you up again, sorry." His vulnerability still made you feel silly butterflies.

Leon just shook his head. "Don't worry about it. Couldn't sleep?"

You shrugged. "Just needed water. I didn't have a nightmare, if that's what you're asking."

"Just making sure you're okay."

"I thought that was my job." You teased. He returned your grin with a small smile of his own.

"If you're not in need of comfort, then it's back to bed for you."

"What, am I in trouble?"

"Big time. I could be cuddling you right now, but no." Leon had approached you to tilt your head to him so he could kiss it.

"Hmm, maybe I'll stay up longer."

"Nope, not an option."

"Huh -" You placed the cup in the sink, paying him no mind, before he picked you up like a sack of potatoes, lifting you by your legs so you hung over his shoulder with ease. "Leon!" You didn't fight back, only smacked his arm lightly.

He didn't say anything as he playfully put you back on your side of the bed. Leon pulled you closer to him, mimicking the same position you were in previously, only this time he was facing you now. "That's better."

"What are you a teenager?"

"At heart."

You slumped in defeat, and he felt it. He chuckled as you snuggled into his chest. "Carrying me was unnecessary." You grumbled.

You wouldn't tell him about the memory. You didn't need to. It was a part of your past, a piece of a puzzle that began the shape of your life, but it shouldn't be brought up. Not anymore, at least.

You were with him now. He wasn't bloodied and bruised. His shoulder didn't carry a bullet.

Leon was alive.

That's all that mattered.

And you would be there when he woke up, just as he would for you.

~

|Tags:|

@seraphiism , @uhlunaro , @unhealthy-leon-brainrot , @mandalhoerian , @honeyfict , @konigbabe , @inaflashimagine , @boundinparchment , @justanother-fic , @izuniias , @leonskillshot ,

[jo-harrington]

Loving Eddie (Grim Reaper!Eddie x Reader)

Pairings/Relationships: Reaper!Eddie Munson/Reader

Warnings/Themes: Implied Character Death, Animal Death, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

Note: I was in a mood tonight and had the sad playlist going as I read Loving Reaper so I wrote a little thing inspired by it. Definitely gonna shoot some recognition to @fairyysoup for forging the path with Death and the Maiden and @vintagehellfire who is an excellent writer regardless and has mentioned a future Reaper!Eddie story. And of course @chestylarouxx who wrote the softest puppy story and @somnambulic-thing for their edit.

I guess this is a little love letter to all of you guys. And just...a soothing little thing for me.

I know this isn't the point but...I'll be making a donation to Chicago Animal Care & Control for some fun little treats so the little babies know how loved they are before they find their forever homes.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

Life and Death have been in love for longer than we've had words to describe...

Eddie knew what it was like to be alone in the world, with no one to love and no place to turn to.

It wasn't that long ago that he was left to wander, to pass unseen, unable to meet a soul that cared to know who or what he was.

First his body had been left in the Upside Down to rot, and then his spirit was left to wander the Earth to do the same.

It jaded him.

Turned him off people, who saw his disheveled spectral form but thought nothing of him. Not to stop or even give him a second glance.

But animals?

Animals flocked to him.

That was where he rediscovered his place in this endless mortal coil.

He'd always considered himself an animal lover, feeding the stray cats and the raccoons that wandered around Forest Hills. Giving extra pets to Mr. Ford's dog that got left outside a little too often.

Even in Death, the birds ruffled their feathers and sung a little louder for him. A butterfly had no fear to land on his fingers and kiss them with their wings as they became bony and unfamiliar.

And the first time he came across a poor little soul that had been left, tethered to a stake, on the side of the road...he knew what his path would be.

He sad beside them and ran his hand overhear head, giving it companionship for the last time...

Maybe I was a bad dog?

No, you just loved bad people. You were a good boy.

...and when it was time to get up, they followed him for as long as they could, until they disappeared into starlight, feeling love for one last time.

It happened again and again.

Cats and birds and fish.

And he didn't know where they went when they crossed into starlight, but he took comfort that he was the one to ferry them there.

To show them the softness in death that they lacked in life.

One day...it wasn't an animal that earned his softness.

It was a human.

It was you.

He was softly petting a rabbit who had dreamed of a lush field of greens, and had only known a cage, promising them flowers and the blue skies and an endless spring when you'd shown up.

Determined.

Your hand went through his as you scooped the little creature up.

"I'm sorry Bunny," you whispered gentle. "Lets get you someplace nice."

He watched your retreating form resentfully. Not because you'd taken his charge away...but because you must have been just like the others. His natural resentment for everything human now.

He followed, of course, and watched as you nursed Bunny back to health. As you called around to friends and family to see who could take them. As you told your neighbor off for buying a rabbit on Easter in the first place if they had no intention of caring for it.

"Susie told me you'd brought it out to the woods. Bunny was dying. What did you even feed it?"

His anger dissipated, just the slightest bit. But he still distrusted you.

No matter. Bunny survived, and had the endless spring they deserved.

And Eddie could forget you.

But he couldn't. Because you showed up again and again, in his path. Stole his purpose from him.

Why he hung around, he wasn't entirely sure.

It's not like he needed to validate your sincerity. You'd stopped your car for enough ducks and bottle fed enough chipmunks for him to know that his little buddies were safe with you.

He could have moved on, soothed the abandoned souls and led them to starlight elsewhere.

He simply felt tethered to you.

Life sends countless gifts to Death...

You had even seen him one day.

You'd stumbled coming down the some steps as you shopped around town, a sudden and unexpected imbalance, and he grabbed you on instinct.

Eddie expected...well he didn't know what he expected. But it wasn't your hand coming to grip his. It wasn't your soft, relieved breath filling his hollow cheeks with life again. It wasn't the sparkle of your eyes meeting his as you thanked him.

"God I don't know what's wrong with me," you laughed. "Sorry...sorry. I didn't mean to just fall on you like that."

"It's alright," he replied with a voice gone raspy from lack of use. "People fall for me all the time."

The smoothness of his response was unexpected too.

You talked for a few minutes.

You always came this way; did he? Was he new in Hawkins? Did he try that coffee place on Main? Anyway, it was nice to meet him. You'd see him around.

He was dumbfounded.

Because you saw him.

You talked to him, touched him.

Showed him the humanity that he'd been lacking--secretly yearning for deep down--for decades. The kind that he had begun to believe didn't exist anymore.

And as you walked away, and as everyone ignored him, he decided he didn't want anything to do with it.

The time had come and gone. Eddie Munson had come and gone. The starlight, the softness, was his new purpose now.

Death was his new name.

He did his best to avoid you, but when had what he wanted ever come to fruition. The more he tried not to see you, the more you saw him.

A bird had fallen from the nest in your neighbor's yard, and you saw him as he carried their soul away, wings too small to fly yet.

You waved hello to him as you hobbled up the sidewalk, after you'd sprained something on your lunchtime walk.

He told another little friend at the animal shelter that their suffering was over, that the hands and feet that never stopped for them were silly and stupid. He would take them to the park for one last game of fetch.

And you were there for a work picnic, the sight of him being the only thing that had put any light in your eyes all day, tired and sunken as they were.

You'd really put your all into planning the picnic, you told him.

He couldn't care one bit.

All he saw was someone who tried too much, gave too much--to people and things--and he simply...despised it. Because those little things you did to give, also took.

They took from him.

He tried one last time to escape you.

Went to the beach.

Walked long and fast and far on untiring feet until his skeletal toes that had long-since ripped through the caps of his sneakers touched the lapping waves of Lake Michigan.

It was a wasteland, and exactly where he belonged. Exactly where he could give some softness. He was right where he needed to be.

The gulls looked for food and only found trash.

Choked on cigarette butts and straw wrappers.

He could sooth them, nourish them, lead them to oblivion.

When he was 12...his uncle had taken him to the beach and he'd witnessed two of the dastardly birds fighting over a piece of fried chicken.

He wished he could see that now.

And not you, sitting on a blanket reading, bundled up in a pullover and sweatpants that dwarfed you.

Funny he could have sworn he'd seen you in those during one of your first encounters. They fit fine then.

It wasn't a particularly cold day...but cold enough where there weren't that many people on the beach so it was easy for you to spot one another.

"Oh hey stranger," you called out to him with a weak wave. "How is it that we keep running into each other? Even 3 hours away at the lake?"

He couldn't help but approach you, maybe save you some embarrassment from the few other stragglers noticing you were talking to yourself on an empty beach.

"Must be fate," he commented bitterly.

"Hmm," you shrugged and looked back at your book.

Eddie sad beside you, uncaring if he was on the sand or not. He couldn't feel the grains between his bones. There was no discomfort anymore.

He considered that for a moment, his appearance. He was sure he was just...a skeleton in some ratty clothes now. But you never batted an eye at him.

Why did he care?

Curiosity. That was all.

"You never seem shocked to see me," he commented after a beat.

"Why should I be?" you asked. "We live in the same town right? This...I mean I wasn't expecting you to be here."

"No, I mean...how I look," he clarified.

"You're like...a metalhead right?" you asked and placed your book down. You hugged your knees to your chest and then reached out to poke a patch on his vest that, to him, was just a tangle of threads now. "Just a little dated. Ok, ok...a classic...forgive me. Metallica is a classic."

"Of course it's a classic. It's Metallica," he scoffed and rolled his eyes. You smiled at him serenely and he felt his ribcage bloat with something.

Joy. Fondness? Maybe you weren't that bad.

He'd just hardened his heart for so long.

"Where'd you even find that? Do you go to the Five Star Flea Market on Highway 69?"

"Never been."

"Garage sales then? I just had..." you yawned. "I just had a garage sale last weekend. Got rid of a lot of junk. I don't need it."

"One persons trash is another's treasure." His uncle always said that when they brought some chipped old mug home.

Where were those mugs now? He wondered.

He told you about them, told you about the Garfield one he got for Wayne for Father's Day one time.

"He hated it but refused to drink coffee from anything else," he told you proudly.

"I have these Campbells soup mugs," you contemplated. "You can have them if you want. One for you, one for your uncle."

"Oh uh..." How could he tell you that both he and Wayne were dead? He couldn't. "That's ok."

"I don't think you like me that much, Eddie," you announced after some time.

You'd wheedled his name out of him at some point.

The shame burned, replaced the fondness he'd realized was there.

"Why do you say that?"

"Just a feeling."

"I wouldn't be here with you if I didn't like you," he said confidently, truthfully. He allowed himself to be soft with you, for the first time, tone so different from what I had been before.

"We friends then?" you asked.

"Yeah...friends."

You both smiled, renewed by the agreement.

You were funny and kind and you got his humor and even recognized his favorite band. 30 years after the fact.

Metallica was a classic though. He'd wouldn't have offered his friendship if you didn't know them.

But yeah, you could be friends, maybe more if you had the time and the means...if you were gonna keep showing up in his life.

In his Death.

Eddie pushed himself to his feet and then held his hand out to you.

You didn't hesitate to grab it.

You felt a lot lighter as he pulled you up, floating almost.

And the two of you started walking, walking, walking...until the night came...until the darkness came.

The starlight.

And for the first time, Eddie didn't have to lose the softness of a new friend to the starlight. You were able to stay for him for a long time, hand entwined with his.

Into eternity.

...And death keeps them forever.