#a lot of these are in the book but exaggerated in the musical

[cranberrv]

things i learned abt the outsiders that are technically canon because they were in the musical (slight spoilers):

- dally moved out of new york because he got into trouble w the cops, and before that he had been in lots of other cities in the us but the same thing happened so he left

- darry really had a lot of troubles when it came to dealing with the boys alone, it doesn’t rly touch on that in the movie (it does a little in the book), but it does a LOT in the musical

- sodapop rly only cares abt being a greaser so he gets girls (that’s how i took it anyway it was so funny)

- ponyboy didn’t read johnny’s letter straight away and sodapop had to start reading it for him because he was too sad

- ponyboy had a HUGE crush on cherry

- ponyboy always feels like he’s not a true greaser and might rather be a soc

- darry hates dallas and hates that ponyboy hangs out with such a bad influence

[crunchycrystals]

i was very lucky to get into the musicians im into when i did because i have never experienced a content drought

[shitpostingkats]

An Asexual's love letter to Good Omens 2

There's an infamous quote by Neil Gaiman going around, regarding the general vibe of season 2, and many people (I believe humorously) yelling that it could not be further from the truth. Particularly in the last episode, where that happens.

I disagree.

The final episode of season 2 was deeply, deeply comforting to me. 

I am asexual. Have been my whole life. Even before I had the words to describe what that was, child-me had this feeling in their gut of being an outlier, that everyone was exaggerating, or in on some joke, that I wasn’t privy to. Because I was bombarded on all sides by shows and movies and books, telling the same story of love, again, and again, and AGAIN. It’s drilled into our brains with the same fervor as the days of the week, or the quadratic formula. Meet-cute -> misunderstanding ->declaration of feelings ->kiss. More or less steps can be added to account for runtime or complexity of narrative, but that’s the basic structure that a relationship follows. It MUST be, because that’s the formula every character who's ever been in a story goes through, often times when it even feels like an add-on, like it’s only there because this is a story, there HAS to be a romance. And it has to follow the steps.

For a long time, I felt love wasn’t for me, because if there’s only one way to be in love, I sure as hell wasn’t feeling it. 

Instead, the relationship I ended up in looked a lot like what Beezlebub and Gabriel go through. Meeting someone routinely until it starts to feel comfortable. Getting to know them and slowly growing more attached. Eating chips and listening to music.

We like to joke whenever someone asks us how long we’ve been together, because the answer is we just sort of slowly fell into it, and we honestly don’t know when the line got blurred between ‘friends’ and ‘partners’. And, at least for me, a good deal of that confusion, that hesitancy to label, came from the fact that what I was feeling, what we were, couldn’t be love. It couldn’t be romantic. 

We were just quiet and gentle.

And that wasn’t love.

Because it was slow, because it wasn’t physical, because there was no structure aside from consistency and companionship. Because it didn’t follow the Rules.

Then I found myself in stories, and it felt like a revelation.

Beelzebub and Gabriel aren’t the first time I’ve seen a love like I feel represented in a narrative, but it never stops feeling special. And I don’t know if I’ll ever stop celebrating it.

Throughout the sequence in the pub, I kept expecting them to “confirm” Gabriel and Beelzebub. A dramatic line, a kiss, a whatever. That’s what I’ve been taught to expect, after all, that’s the only way a relationship is “real”. Of course, this doesn't mean Crowley and Aziraphale sharing a dramatic kiss is wrong, or that I can’t see why it resonated with so many people, but for me. Those moments in the pub are worth so much more.The last scene might have been literally showstopping, but those handful of moments between the duke of hell and an archangel were the beating heart of the season for me. A simple love story in four scenes. No kisses. No ‘I love you’s. Not even any definition of what. The love Gabriel and Beelzebub have is strong enough for them to both want to shatter their worlds and flee their lives and it's just. 

It's just that. 

Two people in a pub, playing the other's favorite song, giving a little gift, buying a packet of crisps. 

That sequence means far more to me than any kiss ever could.

Love isn’t only real when it's hot and sudden and ephemeral, it can also be

Quiet.

And gentle.

And still romantic.

Still real.

[theprongspotter]

Pause - Jegulus - @stag-microfic - Day 15 - 612 words

“How was your date?” Remus asks as James walks into their dorm. He raises a brow, though, after taking in the other boy’s appearance. His hair is sticking up in multiple places, his shirt is unbuttoned down his chest, his glasses are askew, and bruises are littered across his neck. “I assume it went well.”

“Well?” James exclaims with a lovesick grin. “It was bloody amazing! First we went to The Three Broomsticks and he let me talk about quidditch and I listened to him talk about his books and his favorite classical music. He looked so cute in his little scarf and hat. His hat had a pom pom on top! A pom pom! Then we walked around Hogsmeade and got some sweets and talked some more and oh my gosh, Regulus is so fucking perfect! I mean, you should see his—”

“Pause,” Sirius interjects, holding up a finger. He moves it in a small circle. “Rewind. Regulus as in my-little-brother-Regulus?”

James flushes. There’s no backing out now. “Do you know another Regulus?” Peter snickers.

“Hardy har har,” Sirius deadpans, dropping his finger, but only to jab it into James’ chest. “No, but what the fuck? What were you doing with my little brother, Prongs?”

James puts his hands up defensively, his brows shooting up. “Uh, dignified friendly things?”

Sirius’ face turns to one of pure horror. “Oh Merlin, did you deflower my innocent little brother, James?”

“What?!” James splutters.

“Actually, don’t tell me, I don’t want to know.” Sirius slaps his hands over his ears.

“Too late, Pads,” Remus says with a smirk, glancing at James' disheveled state. “The evidence speaks for itself.”

James' face turns an even deeper shade of red. “It’s not like that, I swear! We just... talked. And maybe kissed a little,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, a lot. But that’s it! I’d never—”

“—Hurt him?” Sirius finishes for him, his voice suddenly serious, all traces of teasing gone. He lowers his hands and meets James’ eyes with an intensity that makes the other boy swallow hard.

“Never,” James says firmly. “I care about him. A lot. I’d never do anything to hurt him, Sirius. You know that.”

Sirius stares at him for a long moment before sighing and stepping back. “Alright, I believe you, Prongs. But if you do anything to break his heart, I’ll break your legs. Got it? And vice versa.”

James nods earnestly, his heart pounding in his chest. “Got it. But honestly, Pads, you should be more worried about him breaking mine. He’s... well, he’s pretty amazing.”

Peter, who’s been quietly observing the exchange, finally chimes in with a grin. “So, does this mean we should start calling you James Black now?”

James smirks, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “If anything, he’d be Regulus Potter.”

Sirius makes a face and pretends to gag, though there’s a chance it might not be entirely pretend. “Ew, don’t talk about that in front of me.”

James chuckles, raising an eyebrow. “I didn’t say anything bad?”

“I can’t hear you!” Sirius shouts louder, dramatically covering his ears once more.” I’m off to go threaten my brother about dating my brother.” He makes another face, scrunching up his nose in exaggerated disgust. “Ew, that’s incest!” He pauses, then his expression shifts to something more neutral, almost thoughtful, and he shrugs. “Well, I guess we’re keeping up the tradition.”

James, Remus, and Peter exchange concerned yet amused looks, but before they can say anything, Sirius is already at the door. He steps out of the dorm room, slams the door shut behind him with a loud thud, leaving his friends in stunned silence.

[f1daydreamers]

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: I have so many ideas for this series but I can't get too carried away otherwise its gonna end up longer than a book lmaooo, also super random but this idea came to me from rewatching Trent and Robbo’s wingmen episodes and in one of them he goes, “team bonding!” verryyy heavily in his Scouse accent lol

Warnings: fluff, mentions of being overworked but nothing too harsh, general stress, this is a cute one ok ur welcome

Word Count: 2.7k words (10 mins reading avg)

...

“Why you so sour for?”

You glanced up to see your sister plopping on to the sofa, grabbing the TV remote off of the glass table situated in front of you. Her expression was curious, eyebrows raised in an exaggerated arc. You’d forgotten you’d even put a movie on.

Closing your laptop, you ran your palm over the cool steel surface.

“No reason. It’s nearly time to go to bed, what are you doing?” You watched as she navigated the TV menu, opening the ITV app and clicking on Love Island.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t tell me you like that stuff.”

She smirked, not taking her eyes off the screen as the latest episode began to play. “No one likes it, it’s just funny as fuck.”

“Hey, why do we need to swear?”

“For expression,” she replied with a shrug, as if that was a valid reason.

“Express yourself in other ways.”

“Like what?” She challenged, finally looking at you.

You paused, a little stumped. “The world is your oyster, go and find some.”

She snorted, clearly unimpressed with your wisdom. You hoisted yourself off of the couch, tucking your laptop back into your work bag and zipping it up.

Kaia paused the show, turning so her knees were on the sofa, looking over the backrest to see you better. “Fine, but that doesn’t answer why you’re in such a mood.”

“It’s just work,” you admitted, leaning against the counter. Your eyes traced the outlines of your sister’s old drawings hung on the wall. “A lot more pressure than I’m used to.”

Her eyes lit up with youthful curiosity. “How’s the job going? Met any really fit guys yet?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Is that all you care about?”

“It’s important! C’mon, spill,” she insisted, leaning forward.

You sighed, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “The job is good. Stressful, but good. As for fit guys.. there's.. I don’t know, a few? I’m there to work, not flirt.”

“Sure, sure,” she teased.

You chuckled, tossing a freshly washed blanket you’d just pulled out of the dryer at her. “Oo, thanks,” she said, catching it with a grin.

You rolled your eyes as she sprawled out on the couch, the music of the show coming to life once again.

You pulled the rest of the sheets from the dryer, shoving them into the laundry basket to fold in the morning. As you wiped down the counters and finished the dishes in the sink, your mind wandered again.

Arne, Lee, and the club had all been incredibly supportive since your arrival, but the internal pressure you’d carried from university - to be the best, to never fail - was fading. Wataru, Conor, and Curtis were all doing great.

From your reports, you were instructed to make Trent the priority, at least to gather enough information for a new evaluation.

But how could you do that with a player who seemingly wanted nothing to do with you?

“Y/N?” Your sister’s soft voice calling your name pulled you out of your trance.

“Yeah?” You replied, turning to face the back of the couch.

The show paused again. A beat of silence hung in the air.

“No one’s giving you a hard time, are they?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned, “of course not. Why would you think that?”

“We’re pretty notorious for being hated.” Sadness poked through the tone in her voice.

“Nobody hates us, Kaia. And no one is giving me a hard time at work, I promise.” You tried to sound reassuring. She was a kid and she meant well, of course she did, but she didn’t need to know the full truth. She was your sister, not a therapist.

“Okay. Cause you do know I’ll fuck ‘em up, right?”

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement. She picked her head up to let you sit then rested it in your lap. You pulled her hairs away from her face, combing them back with your fingers.

“With your swears?” You teased.

“I got a mean punch."

“Which I hope isn’t being put to use, thank you very much.”

“I’m an angel, really.” Which she tried to pull off in an innocent way that really didn’t suit her.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sceptical but smiling.

She chuckled, turning her head to face the TV again.

“Come on, let’s watch this shit show.” You said playfully.

“I thought you said no swearing.” She retorted matter-of-factly.

“That rule doesn't apply to 25 and above people.”

“Let me guess, when you turn 26, that rule’s gonna be extended by a year?” Kaia asked, her lips curling upwards.

“Precisely.” You smiled down at her as she rolled her eyes, playing the show.

Your smile faltered almost immediately. You subconsciously continued smoothing over Kaia’s hair, but your mind was plagued with thoughts about work, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, about him.

...

The first two matches of Liverpool’s season had come and gone in a flash. But, despite in how much of a blur it passed, the level of work every day only surmounted the work of the days before.

But you could take it. If you couldn’t handle psychology, you’d probably be useless at everything else.

The new week began, and the first thing you spotted in the mountain of emails was an update. Your cabinet for the office had arrived, courtesy of the club, who were happy to cover the costs once you'd submitted your request.

You swivelled your chair to face the desk phone, dialling reception downstairs. The phone rang twice before Annika's cheerful voice answered.

"Hello," she said brightly.

"Hey, it's Y/N from upstairs. I got an email saying my cabinet had arrived. Am I okay to collect it now?" You asked, glancing around your office and imagining where the new cabinet would go.

"Oh, don't worry," Annika replied with a smile in her voice. "We'll send someone up to drop it off for you."

"Really? It's honestly no bother," you said, feeling a bit guilty about causing extra work.

"No, I insist. They’ll be up shortly," she reassured you.

"Thank you, I appreciate that," you said, a note of relief in your voice.

"No worries!" Annika chirped.

You hung up the phone, feeling a bit lighter. Come to think of it, you really didn’t fancy carrying a ton of weight up the stairs and potentially embarrassing yourself to any bystanders.

Once you’d gone through your emails, creating your to-do list for the day, you patiently waited for your cabinet to come.

But it didn’t.

You tried to put it to the back of your mind, focusing on ticking off the first two items on your list before your first session. Yet, even as you checked them off, you found yourself glancing at the door, expecting the cabinet to arrive at any moment.

An hour passed, then another, and still no sign of the delivery. The anticipation was starting to wear on you.

You glanced at the clock situated on your desk, wondering if you’d be able to make it back in time for your session with Conor.

But just as you were ready to leave, there was a knock on your door. You walked over to open it, expecting only the Irishman. There he was, but also holding a large brown box with an outline of your cabinet on the front.

“Uh-” You couldn’t register what was happening.

“Mind if we come in? Don't fancy holding this all day.”

We.

You realised you hadn’t responded as Trent lifted his head to stare at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” You opened the door, standing off to the side. You allowed them to come in and they placed the box upright against the wall.

"Annika mentioned she'd send someone up, I didn't think she meant the players." Conor chuckled, motioning to his trusted helper.

"Yeah, well, Brian was going to bring it up but he got busy so reception asked if we could help. We were coming up anyways," he explained.

“Oh. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of genuine gratitude. You glanced at Trent, and a heavy silence ensued.

“Yeah, whatever,” Trent muttered, his tone dripping with indifference, leaving almost immediately. You let out a quiet sigh, your shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

Conor, who had been observing the exchange with a wry smile, exhaled through his nose in mild amusement.

“He’s warming up to you,” he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes, trying to hide a smirk.

“Aw, you really think so?”

“Sure,” he replied with a grin.

“Sit down,” you said, gesturing to the chairs. You both laughed softly as you walked over to shut the door.

Yet, an unsettling frustration gnawed at you from within. Trent had always been distant, but after weeks of being here, he still showed no signs of letting his guard down. You were no stranger to the challenges of being a psychologist, it's not like this was your first job.

But in the past few days, self-doubt had crept in. You wondered if you were even fit for it; maybe the pressures of working for one of the most prestigious football clubs in the country were finally catching up to you and kicking you in the ass.

You shook your head, feigning a smile as you returned to your desk, starting your session.

...

“Is this upside down?” You muttered to yourself, flipping the instructions around again.

What use were instructions if they had no text under them?

You debated calling your dad, but the lecture you’d receive about the hours of manual labour he used to put you through every time a new piece of furniture arrived at the house was not worth it.

“Okay. Wood, screws, knob, cabinet. Perfect.” It was only a small one, so you weren’t worried about the height of it per se, just worried about everything else.

You slumped onto the floor, surrounded by longer and shorter pieces of wood with a bag of screws and one handy screwdriver that you were currently twirling between your fingers.

Just as you were about to try again, a voice broke through your concentration.

“What are you doing?”

You gasped, your hand instinctively going to your chest as the paper floated to the ground.

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed, breathless and startled. “Can you knock next time?”

“I did knock,” Trent replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Did you?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to recall when you heard a knock reverberate through your office.

“No.” He admitted.

You huffed, feeling a mix of annoyance and embarrassment at falling for his joke.

“Funny.” You mumbled, shaking your head.

To your surprise, he plopped onto the sofa situated by the side of the wall, near the door. Your eyebrows raised slightly.

Trent, sitting on your sofa, in your office, willingly? This was new. Only today, you were doubting yourself if you’d ever be able to get through to him and yet here he was.

You didn’t want to overanalyse the situation but it was hard to ignore the significance of it. Maybe he was finally starting to let his guard down, even if just a little.

There was a strange combination of nervousness and relief running riot inside of you.

Rather than drawing attention to it, you chose to stay focused on the task at hand, wary of saying anything that might reinforce his emotional walls.

“I’m trying to build a cabinet, if you must know.” You didn’t want to sound as annoyed as you were - not necessarily by the man you were conversing with, but more so by the wooden contraption that was puzzling you to your core.

He peered over the armrest, then slowly returned to his original position. “Making a lot of progress, it seems.”

“How nice of you to state the obvious,” you replied calmly, but your mind was racing.

“It’s late, how come you’re still here?” You asked, trying to make conversation. He just shrugged, pulling out his phone from his trouser pocket.

You gave a half-smile. Even if he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, he was still here, and that’s what mattered to you.

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed by, and you were officially ready to give up. Resting your head against your desk, still seated on the floor, you were on the verge of admitting defeat and calling your dad.

Your attention was diverted by a soft creak from the sofa frame. Trent stood up, and you looked up at him, squinting as the ceiling light shone brightly.

“You heading out?” You asked, your voice tinged with resignation.

He took a small step to the right, blocking the light from hitting your eyes. He glanced around, as if debating something.

His mouth parted slightly.

“Move over.”

What?

“Huh?” you said, bewildered.

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, motioning to the pile of wood still stacked in various directions. “Move.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” He replied blandly, yet still entertaining your conversation. A few weeks ago, he would’ve murdered you.

You glanced down at your cabinet, which was rather resembling modern art, then back up at him.

“Are you suggesting women can’t build things?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

He tilted his head downward, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Women can. It’s just you that can’t. Wanna disagree?”

Your pressed your bottom lip up to your top, as if you were actually considering the idea. “I’d love to argue, but you’re lucky I’m too tired right now. Maybe come back tomorrow and we can pick up where we left off.”

“Move over or I’m leaving,” he said, a touch more firmly.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” You chuckled.

You scooted over, making room for Trent to sit beside you. He settled on the floor, crossing his legs. There was a fair amount of distance between you.

You found yourself stealing glances at him as he took a look at the instructions a few times, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude for his unexpected help.

His presence was a welcome distraction.

You couldn’t deny you were entirely useless as he separated the pieces, lining them up to get a full look at everything, ensuring nothing was absent.

“Screwdriver?” He asked for quietly and you cast a quick look around, spotting it underneath a plank of wood.

“Here.” His fingers brushed yours as he took it from you, a touch that you were acutely aware of but one he didn’t seem to think twice about.

Whenever your knees brushed while adjusting the cabinet or while holding it in place, you could feel the warmth of his proximity, which only heightened your perception of him.

After some time, the cabinet stood completed. You couldn’t help but smile proudly at the result.

Trent glanced at your beaming face and quickly looked away, as if unsure how to react. The fleeting moments of physical contact had created a soft tension in the air.

You tilted your head, deciding to tease him while you still had the chance. “Does it look a bit bent or is it just me?”

He barely looked at the cabinet, already ready to fire a response back. “It’s just you.”

You scoffed, your eyes meeting as he extended the screwdriver back toward you. You swallowed as you took it, another brush of hands.

It was brief and unexpected but he too registered it this time. He briefly tensed but stood up quickly after.

You just about scrambled to your feet after him, placing your screwdriver on your desk.

Before he could leave, you called out, “thank you.”

He turned to give you a simple nod, brushing off your gratitude.

“I mean it. Not just for building this,” you gestured toward the cabinet, “but for being here. I’m always happy to see you.”

A silence befell you both, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable as it had before.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how come you came here?”

He thought about his answer for a second, wanting to correctly word it.

“Saw you struggling through the door. Thought you were finally having a heart attack or something.”

You paused for a second, slowly nodding your head. “Couldn’t miss it, huh?”

At that, Trent’s lips curved into a genuine smile as he looked away from your eyes, the first smile you’d seen from him that was actually for you.

It was a subtle, upward curl, softening his usually serious expression.

You mirrored his smile, it was hard not to. Perhaps you’d leaned forward, or your shoulders had finally relaxed, but you weren’t focused on the specifics.

“See you round, psychologist.”

You hummed, afraid that even if you opened your mouth, nothing would come out.

You watched him walk away, your eyes falling to the cabinet against the wall.

Seeing him smile, just smile at you, was a moment you wouldn’t forget so soon. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing a flood of relief and hope you’d nearly given up on.

But before you could think about it further, your phone buzzed. It was Kaia, asking when you’d be home.

You hadn’t even realised what time it was.

“Shit.”

…

Part 5

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e @xxxstormyninixxx @lolawwww22 @myloveisforbellingham @purpleniight @bffrwme

[frost-queen]

The moment I knew // part 8 (Reader!Bridgerton x Tewkesbury)

Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly,@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,@subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine, 

@panhoeofmanyfandoms, @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat, @rosecentury,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn, @cayt0123, 

@powwowsworld, @yomamacrusty, @mileyy22, @omgsuperstarg, @helen06dreamer, @misscaller06, @l4venderia, @dracoflaco, @loliakeoghan23, @emotionaldamageemotionaldamage, @reallysparklychaos, @ok-boke, @the-fifth-marauder7, @asgards-princess-of-mischief, @cherrysxuya, @lol6sposts, @cierrajhill, @heheyhey

Summary: During a ball sneaks Tewkesbury his presence more onto you. Almost desperate to be near you. Even so desperate he calls upon your house yet he isn't the only one. [ part 1 & part 2 & part 3& part 4 & part 5 & part 6 & part 7 & part 9 & part 10 ]

Candles were dazzling in the bright room. The walls warmed with the comfort of people. The ton bustled together in a room of delight. Chattering chippering up yet not too loud for the music to be overwhelmed. In a corner was the orchestra. The piano forte, violins, cello’s, enough to make the room dance. In the centre ladies and gents were waltzing. Graceful and delicately.

Each in their own world of slowly falling in love or hoping to be. Benedict appeared from between the crowd holding two lemonade glasses up so they wouldn’t get knocked over. He approached with a heavy exhale. Francesca and you turned more towards him. – “Your drinks sisters.” – he said lowering his hands to offer the glasses. Francesca and you took yours.

Benedict joined Colin’s side behind the two of you. Colin looked at Benedict half disappointed. – “What about me dear brother?” – he asked with pouted lips. – “Go fetch it yourself!” – Benedict replied with a sneer. Colin raised his eyebrows playfully at you when you had turned around to listen in to their conversation. – “I’ll fetch mine all by myself than.” – he exaggerated making Benedict roll his eyes.

The dancers came to a stop as the dance had ended. The room emptied as the orchestra began their next song. The first few notes shot up like a rush. Playful tunes that made you supress a squeal out of excitement. You hastily pushed your glass in Colin’s hands. Startled he nearly spilled some lemonade on his gloves.

“Y/n!” – he groaned out as you grabbed Benedict’s wrist. – “Come brother dance with me!” – you called out. Benedict got pulled with you swept amongst the crowd of joining the dance. Francesca came standing at Colin’s side. – “Now you have your drink.” – she said before taking a serious sip. You came to a stop as Benedict nearly stumbled. You positioned him before you and dove right into the dance that had already begun.

Benedict was a bit slower watching those beside him to what he needed to do. He held his hands up as you clapped your hand against his diagonally. You then clasped your hands together and spun around. Benedict started to catch on clapping his hands against yours at the same time making you laugh. You heard laughter from all around you as this dance was not so stiff.

A pleasant folklore dance with lot’s of spins, hops and fun. Tewkesbury’s eyes widened seeing you amidst them dance with your brother. He knew what kind of dance it was. Gulping nervously he very much wanted to join. Looking quickly around he grabbed the first girl’s wrist he saw near him and pulled her without a word into the dance. He forced his way to be beside you.

The couple that were already dancing near you got stopped in their movement, leaving them confused for a brief moment. They cleared the way as Tewkesbury dove right into the dance. He took the girl’s hands facing your back as he followed the dancers go in a circle forwards.

“What an honour my lord.” – the girl said breathlessly. – “Quiet!” – Tewkesbury said to her trying to focus on you. They came to a stop, changed hands and went back the other way. You furrowed your brows looking at the suspicious back of the person hopping before you. – “Is that?” – you muttered before Benedict pulled you to a halt. Clapping your hands against his again. Benedict let you spin under his arm. Benedict then walked over to you to come at your side.

Tewkesbury’s eyes widened as he hastened himself at your side. Taking your hand before the girl he was with could do so. Feeling the sudden warm grip on your hand made you look up. – “My …” – you wanted to address his presence but got pulled to the centre by your brother and Tewkesbury. Each holding your hands as you had formed a circle with the other dancers. Coming together in the middle to then part back to a full circle.

In a confused haze they pulled at you needing you to follow the direction they were going. The full circle going to the left. There was a brief pause before you were pulled in the other direction. There was another stop as you stood lost when Tewkesbury stood before your brother and you before the girl he danced with. – “What are you doing?” – Benedict shout-whispered, clapping his hands against Tewkesbury’s. – “May I dance with your sister?” – Tewkesbury asked before taking a spin as did Benedict.

You and the girl did the steps in silence and confused as to why you were suddenly dancing with each other. – “Please.” – Tewkesbury pleaded as Benedict sighed deep. Tewkesbury took it as an agreement turning his posture away from Benedict and giving the girl a gentle nudge to get her out of the way. You took each other’s hands hopping to the side and back. 

You watched Benedict leave the dance returning to your siblings. – “You scared my brother away.” – you teased. – “I asked.” – Tewkesbury responded taking you by the waist. You did the same twirling around with him. – “This is more fun isn’t it?” – he said. – “I’ll decide that.” – you responded trying to supress a smile. Tewkesbury saw the mischief in your eyes knowing you weren’t serious.

He let you twirl under his arm before he pressed his hand on your back and pulled you to his chest. He was a bit too eager making you fall against his chest, needed to have pressed your hand to escape a hard bump. – “Where’s your partner?” – you asked glancing to the side. Tewkesbury pulled you back in by your chin, wanting you to look at him. – “Right here.” – he whispered making you look bashful away. – “Don’t be silly.” – you slapped him against his chest. Tewkesbury took a hold of you dancing around with you. Hastened and energetic that you were out of breath. The music slowed, fading out as the two of you were panting.

Tewkesbury bowed before you as you took a hold of your dress and curtsied. The two of you moved to the side allowing other dancers to join the next dance. – “May I see your hand?” – Tewkesbury asked. – “Wha--- why?” – you responded confused. Cheeks flushed from the heat. – “May I see it?” – he pressed on. You moved your hand up with a taunting smile. Your dance card dangled on the cord around your wrist. – “Perfect.” – He mumbled pulling at the  cord. – “Hey!” – you called out as it snapped, dance card now in his hands. – “That’s mine!” – you called out wanting to grab for it. Yet he was faster pulling it back out of your reach. – “I’ll keep this.” – he showed you the card with a smirk.

“If you think you are being charming, you are wrong silly boy.” – you answered crossing your arms. Tewkesbury shrugged his shoulders. – “You can have it back when I’ve claimed all my dances.” – he replied finding it cute how angry you were trying to look. – “You see it has my name on it.” – he continued as you puffed loud. – “Where? I don’t see your name.” – you said tauntingly back looking closer at your dance card just for the dramatics. – “Right here.” – he began moving his gloved finger down your entire card. – “Tewkesbury.” – he spoke slowly as his finger went down.

“It’s in invisible ink.” – he added jokingly.  You punched him in the armpit just to stop him from laughing at his own smoothness. – “Au!” – he called out, rubbing the pain area. You stuck your tongue out to him as Tewkesbury did the same just to play with you. He dangled your dance card happily up to tease you even more. – “Stealing girl’s dance cards are we now?” – you heard as Tewkesbury stiffened. He turned, dropping down into a bow at the presence of his grandmother. – “I…I was just…” – Tewkesbury began as his grandmother shushed him.

“Who are you girl?” – she asked narrowing her eyes at you. You dropped into a curtsy. – “Miss Y/n Bridgerton, My lady.” – you introduced yourself. She only hummed intrigued. – “I hope my grandson has his manners.” – she shot him a glare making him swallow nervously. You stepped up, coming a bit in between him and his grandmother. – “He has been more than polite, My lady. A dream as to say.” – you spoke to her. His grandmother hummed intriguingly again before taking her leave. Tewkesbury exhaled relieved once she had gone. The dance card was for your plucking as you took it from him. – “I’ll have this back now.” – you laughed out backing up.

Tewkesbury smiled widely following you trying to take it back from you. You kept backing up till you bumped against someone. It made you gasp, turning round quickly to apologize. – “Enola!” – you blurted out upon seeing it was her you had bumped into. She furrowed her brows. – “You know my name?” – she then looked beyond you putting on a smile to Tewkesbury. – “Viscount.” – she addressed as Tewkesbury smiled nervously back at her. Then the two dots connected. – “Ah you must be the girl.” - she spoke with a giggle at Tewkesbury.

“I can see why he likes you.” – she spoke as Tewkesbury was waving his arms across behind you. - “What was I not to say that?” – Enola said dumbfound just to tease him more. Tewkesbury slapped his palm against his face in agony. You looked back to Tewkesbury who nervously rubbed his hand to the back of his head. – “Y/n!” – you heard, drawing your attention away from him. Francesca appeared from between the crowd making her way over to you. She eyed Enola and Tewkesbury before coming to take you away from them.

You brushed past Tewkesbury letting your hand brush against his. His eyes slightly widened feeling the card being forced into his hand. He closed his hand keeping the dance card by him. Enola came at his side as they watched you leave. Tewkesbury opened his hand and held the dance card up. Letting it twirl in the air by it’s snapped cord. – “You are so in on her.” – Enola teased with a comforting pat on his shoulder. Tewkesbury looked from the dance card to where you had gone.

The next day you were in the Parlor with mama, Francesca, Hyacinth and Gregory. Your brothers had gone out. Just a boring midday. Mama was knitting. Francesca reading a book with less interest. Hyacinth and Gregory playing a game of cards. You sat near your sister, head laid back to stare bored at the ceiling. These calling hours could be so dreadfully boring someday. The time of the day where anyone without an invitation could announce themselves at the house.

Mama had let her calling card known with who would be at home. The door opened as it barely made any of you move. – “Is that how you all spend the day?” – your eyes widened at the voice of your sister. – “Daphne!” – Hyacinth shouted loud dropping her cards immediately. All of you jumped awake getting up to greet your sister. You were hugging her when the duke dropped in with Augie. Augie now at the age of three he held Simon’s hand.

“Ladies.” – Simon greeted. Hyacinth and Gregory rushed up to him to hug him. Simon let go of Augie’s hand and hugged them tightly back. Francesca picked Augie up to play with him. You hugged your sister tightly as you had missed her dearly. – “You must come more often.” – you told her. – “I know.” – Daphne responded giving you a tight squeeze.

Daphne took your hand and led you to the armchairs. – “Now you must tell me all.” – she spoke. – “There is not much to say.” – you told her. – “Now that is a lie.” – Francesca pitched in as Augie bounced on her knee. – “Is that so?” – Daphne asked intrigued. – “There’s this Viscount.” – Francesca went on. – “Viscount? What Viscount?” – Daphne wanted to know looking curiously and eagerly at you. – “It’s… it’s… not like that…” – you told her a bit unsure of what was happening between the two of you.

Would this simply grow into a friendship or was there room for more from both sides. To be honest Tewkesbury have been giving you mixed signals. All with the whole Enola thing going on. – “Then what is it like?” – Daphne wanted to know more. The door opened once more, this time the doorman entered. He cleared his throat before speaking. – “A visitor for Miss Y/n Bridgerton.” – he called out. – “Me?” – you said confused getting up. – “Well who is it?” – Daphne asked. The doorman cleared his throat again. – “He said Miss Y/n Bridgerton could guess.”

You already had a clue so you left the Parlor to head into the hallway. Your idea had been right. Tewkesbury stood by the door waiting for you. – “Miss Y/n.” – he spoke dropping into a bow. – “What are you doing here?” – you shout-whispered at him. Tewkesbury got startled a bit by the tone of your voice. – “I…I came for you.” – he said. – “My sister is inside.” – you told him a bit panicking. – “Francesca?” – he guessed. – “Daphne!” – you told him. – “I…I just wanted to see you.” – he responded as you kept looking frantically over your shoulder.

“I hope my grandmother had not scared you away.” – he asked when you gave him a gentle nudge back towards the door. You stopped furrowing your brows. – “I…you needn’t be frightened of her. She’s all bark but no bite.” – he told you taking a hold of your hand. – “I promise you.” – he continued as you got lost in his eyes.

Forgetting about your surroundings and only thinking of him. You were so deep into his eyes that you didn’t hear the door open. Till you heard a voice. – “You must be the Viscount?” – Daphne spoke. You jumped out of your skin, pushing Tewkesbury behind you.

“I am.” – Tewkesbury replied politely, moving a bit from behind you. – “And he is just leaving.” – you said pushing him back. – “Wha…no… no Miss Y/n.” – Tewkesbury whispered at you holding you by your wrist as you pushed him back. – “Come back another time.” – you whispered back to him. Desperate to get him away from Daphne yet he stood his ground, not moving quick enough. – “I still have your dance card.” – he whispered back making you look panicking over your shoulder.

Daphne watching the whole display. Tewkesbury holding you by the wrist trying to stay close as you tried to push him out of the house. She tilted her head with an intriguing hum. – “A cup of tea Viscount?” – Daphne called out. – “Yes!” – Tewkesbury called out letting go of you and stepping to the side. Daphne gestured to the Parlor. Tewkesbury went in as you followed behind. In the door opening plucked Daphne at your cheek with one of her glances. The one you feared the most. The one that stated that she knew more than you could see.

“The Viscount!” – Francesca pointed out teasingly. Simon turned his head looking the boy up and down. – “Isn’t it wonderful that he came to visit.” – Daphne said. Tewkesbury glanced over to you, catching your gaze. You held it still for a moment, for a longing moment where you stared into his eyes. Daphne looking between the two of you. – “Y/n tea!” – Francesca called out making you hum loud. You took your leave to set some tea.

Tewkesbury came to sit down in the armchair as Daphne had offered to him to sit. Both Simon and Gregory got up, coming to sit at each his side. Tewkesbury swallowed nervously at the stare Simon was giving him. Gregory smiled rather teasingly at him yet it uneased him a bit. – “You were at the opera.” – Gregory stated. – “I…I was…” – he replied. You returned to give him his tea. Taking a seat by your sisters across from him.

Tewkesbury drank his tea nervously hoping his hands weren’t shaking too much. – “Are you nervous boy?” – Simon asked. – “Simon!” – Daphne hissed at him for trying to intimidate him. Tewkesbury nearly spilled some tea. – “No…no your grace.” – Tewkesbury answered. You smiled sheepishly at Tewkesbury feeling a bit embarrassed by your own family.

“He’s very handsome.” – Hyacinth sitting on the ground in front of him. Staring dreamingly at him. Tewkesbury smiled. – “If you do not marry him then I want to marry him.” – Hyacinth said to you. – “Hyacinth!” – you shout-whispered at her to stop embarrassing you. Francesca snorted loud. – “Alright I believe calling hours are ending.” – you had jumped up, wanting to end the attention on you. – “Are you perhaps feeling shy sister?” – Francesca asked as you slapped a pillow at her head.

You gestured for the door as Tewkesbury followed. In the hallway you waited with him as the doorman opened the door. – “Have a good day my lord.” – you told him pushing him a bit to the door. Tewkesbury stood in the door opening turning back to you. – “Your family is lovely… please do not fear mine.” – he said almost desperately. As if he wanted you to know his rather cold grandmother could do you no harm.

You leaned against the door with your head, curling up a smile. – “I am not afraid.” – you answered. Tewkesbury took your hand and kissed the back of your hand. – “Till our next meeting.” – he told you taking his leave with a bow. – “For that I cannot wait.” – you spoke out of reach for his ears, watching him get in the carriage.

---------------------------------------

Read more of my fics on my Masterlists! 

[the-ace-with-spades]

Bradley was a total loser in high school but in the way that he was still liked by everyone. He was all over the place, playing baseball, doing theater (mostly musicals...), and keeping up with all the 'nerds' in his year in maths and physics, a mathlete, all to make himself a good candidate for the USNA. He'd also go to youth military camps during summer and worked a part-time job since he was a sophomore.

Everyone at school knew of him, but he was so closed off that he was a mystery to many, which in turn made him have close to zero friends, but people liked him and he was never bullied. This was partially due to being too busy to have friends, partially due to him being afraid to bring friends home (because of Mav and Ice's secret relations...) and partially because Bradley had a hard time making friends in general — he's been moving around a lot as a kid and often had to swap schools mid-semester but also had more trauma and issues than your average kid.

And a lot of the kids who did try to befriend him were intimidated —Bradley was a chill, friendly, and nice guy on the surface, very talented as well, seemed not to care about other people's opinions and just did his thing, but then the minute you learned more about him, he was intense. He had his whole life planned already in a way most teenagers do not — chose his college, chose the job he wants, has been preparing for it for years already. Military camps, pilot licence, science on a level suitable for aerospace engineering, multiple side hobbies, all successful, deep knowledge of the military and political scene, all before he even finished high school. To the kids who learned more about him he was cool, but in the 'he seems like a future legend' way, almost too picture-perfect. It was very isolating for Bradley but also something he carried into adulthood out of haplessness — he can be the heart of the crowd, but he's never close with anyone, opposite of an open book, always trying to do his own thing while trying to not care about what others think (this has also been exaggerated by what Mav did to his USNA application...)

Jake was from the popular crowd but a lot of people only pretended to like him. He was the football star and had pretty good grades, took part in the debate club and also volunteered with their church — in their small town, he was the perfect golden child. Every parent wanted their kid to be like him. A lot of people only befriended him because they thought being friends with him would also put them on the same pedestal and were pretty fake, disliking him behind his back.

On the inside though, he was just the local farmers' boy who always gave all of himself to others, no matter what it was. His humility was genuine at the beginning but when everyone questioned him and called it fake, he started to have an attitude just to appease everyone's expectations and not be eaten alive. He didn't know what he wanted to do with his life but he tried to give his best whatever he wasn't doing — so a lot of the things he did were what he felt was expected of him. He's tall and athletic, their football team is good — he should join. His dad never finished high school and wanted his kids to have a good education — so he tried his best to make him proud. His mama ran the local book club and helped the church and their pastor almost every day — he should show that he inherited some of her leadership and good, god-lead heart. It even went to a point where he knew he wasn't interested in girls at all, but felt like he had to try because that's what teenage popular boys do — they date, they hook up, they have crushes.

Choosing to go USNA and deciding he wanted to be an aviator was the first thing he did for himself (after letting himself develop a fascination with flying and planes first) and so many people were disappointed with him — so many people said he was wasting his potential, a career in varsity football, any other potentially well-paying, respected jobs he could get if he went to a good college and not joined the military. Every single adult discouraged him from it, telling him how he's not going to do well and how he had more options than almost all of the kids in their town. Even his own parents were, well not unsupportive but also not very supportive. His dad who had been drafted, openly discouraged him from joining the military and often said he should not waste all his hard work.

(The above was brought to you by a fic idea: Bradley didn't go to his high school reunion but when Jake gets an invite for his, he feels like he needs to go to prove something to himself - that all the people who said he's wasting his potential and who pretended to like him to be in the right social circles were wrong and that he's happy and satisfied with his life.

He and Bradley are together at the time and he decides to take him as his plus one. This proves to be another challenge — taking his boyfriend to his small, kinda homophobic town, and trying to fight off the reality and judgment from all the people he's always wanted to please and prove something to.

Especially since Bradley doesn't completely understand why Jake wants to do it — he can see how badly it's affecting him and he just doesn't get the point of doing something or interacting with people who make Jake feel shitty about himself. He's conflicted between being supportive and calling Jake out on how self-destructive and pointless the whole reunion is for him.

Also: Jake's parents and Jake's ex-girlfriends. Disaster waiting to happen.)

[stone-stars]

Transcript:

[8bbc theme fades out] Murph: Welcome to 8-bit book club, the only book club that makes you dumber. (laughs) I'm laughing because Emily has the mic at the ready to interrupt me. [Caldwell laughs.] Interrupt the intro. But yes, I'm joined as always by my life-slash-comedy partner, Emily Axford. Emily: Sup, bitch! Caldwell: (laughs) not really on theme, but okay. Murph: Whatup. Yeah, whatup. Uh, and the, uh-- Emily: Oh, I didn't even think to do that. We just were talking about "bitch" so much before we started this. Caldwell: Yeah. Murph: Yeah, and the, uh, Aerith Gainsborough to my Cloud Strife, Caldwell Tanner. Caldwell: (laughs) What's up, it's me, the music bitch! [Emily and Murph laugh.] Murph: Yeah, what's up bitches! Caldwell: Can't get enough of the stuff! [Emily laughs] Murph: We're say-- we're saying "bitch" a lot today, apparently. Emily came in and she kept calling everyone bitch, and referring to herself as bitch. Caldwell: Emily-- Emily said it was cool if we did it. Murph: She said-- Emily: (quietly) No, I said I'm allowed to. Murph: What were you saying? Because we're gonna go-- we're gonna go out to eat after this, and you said-- Emily: I said (exaggerated) this bitch is getting meat! Murph: This bitch is getting meat. You also-- Emily: (exaggerated) This bitch is getting the 12-ounce New York Strip Steak! [Caldwell laughs.] Murph: You were also talking about daddy. Daddy is taking us to go get dinner. Emily: Yeah, I said-- If we record a very good podcast, daddy's gonna take us to get some steak! Murph: This is… Caldwell: That's true. And you meant like-- Murph: Off to a strange, sexual start. Caldwell: You meant like, our collective daddy. Like, the kind of philosophical daddy, which represents you self-disciplining yourself. Emily: Well-- what I said is that everyone has their own inner daddy. Caldwell: Right. Emily: And inner daddy can treat you if you-- um-- if you are good. Caldwell: Right. And that's what-- Emily: You have an inner baby and an inner daddy. Murph: Awh. What? [Emily and Caldwell laugh.] Caldwell: I don't like where this is going. Emily: Baby I mean like-- child. Caldwell: Right Murph: Okay. Emily: Not like baby like, santa baby. Caldwell: Listen, Murph, we're past that basic bullshit where we talk about self care. It's all about uh-- treating your little inner baby-- [Emily laughs.] Caldwell and Murph: --and being your own daddy. Emily: You have to discipline-- Murph: We have discussed in the past being your own daddy. Emily: You have to discipline your inner baby, and be your own daddy. (laughs) So stop going and getting pedicures and acting like that's what you owe yourself. No, your inner baby is soft. Caldwell: Right. Emily: It needs to start pumping up. Murph: Oh my god. Caldwell: Hey. Spare the rod, spoil the daddy. [Emily cackles. Caldwell laughs.] Murph: Everybody-- Alright. Alright bitches, shut the fuck up. Uh, this week-- Emily: Spare the-- [cackles] Murph: Would you guys--? This one's-- This is gonna be a loose one, 'cause we didn't read a book.

[elliespeach]

you belong to me | part two

 

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: ellie’s crush seems to spiral out of control one day on patrol and now she’s left to face the consequences.

warnings: 18+, strong language, sexually explicit descriptions, ellie and reader smoke weed together, possession and jealousy, david bowe? sandra

wordcount: 3k+ (periodt)

author note: thank you guys for so much love on the first part, i appreciate it more than you know that people enjoy my writing! i saw a tiktok about how moonage daydream is probably one of ellie’s favorite songs and i HAD to jump on it (i dont know who made the tt im sorry) i love that song and personally, i totally see ellie loving it so u know i had to incorporate it somehow. i hope you guys like this one! w loveeeeee

ellie held open the door for you once you reached her garage behind joel’s house. the small but cozy little apartment was familiar to you, the smell of weed and ellie was pungent but delightful as always. a small smile appeared on your lips as you glanced around ellie’s room, you’ve seen it a hundred times but it just screams ellie and you loved every knick-knack. ellie couldn’t help but stare, twiddling with her fingers ever so slightly but when you caught her eye she dropped her hands and her eyes darted to the wall. 

“uh– dina and i smoked my last blunt, gotta roll a new one.” ellie stammered, suddenly really aware of her movements. she made her way to her small couch, gathering her supplies to make the perfect blunt for you. she could roll with her eyes closed, but you made her so nervous and she was worried her shaky hands would spill her stash. 

normally, ellie wasn’t like this around you but given the circumstances, she couldn’t help it. 

fuck oh my god ellie just fucking roll like you’ve done a thousand times. she made the mistake of glancing at you, seeing you looking around her room. her heart nearly lurched from her chest, you fiddled with her paint brushes, leading your finger to the comic book she had open on her desk. rollrollrollrollroll.

“what’s this?” 

“my amazing-spiderman comic, i read it like a thousand times already.” ellie had regained control of her shaky hands, putting all of her focus into it. you let out a small laugh, causing her to lose focus and look up at you.

“nerd alert…” you said under your breath in a joking tone, locking your eyes on her stereo. 

“excuse m–” 

“what tapes do you have?” you searched through her tape box, landing on david bowe, you let out an exaggerated gasp “oh, perfect!” 

ellie scoffed lightheartedly, “i have the blunt ready, when you’re done bullying me.”

“oh please, i could do worse,” you skipped to moonage daydream and pressed play. the music erupted through the speakers and you turned it down to a reasonable volume and turned back to ellie, who was watching you diligently. “thank you.” 

ellie held out the blunt for you and you took it while settling in on the couch, the song vibrating throughout the small garage. “don’t sweat it, anything for you.” 

keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe, put your ray gun to my head

“no, really thank you, for everything.” you said, taking a hit from the blunt. feeling what little nerves you had left diminish into thin air. being around ellie had calmed you down a lot more than you had anticipated, and this was noticeable to ellie as you got more comfortable on her small couch. she watched your every move, fuck you look good hitting the blunt. 

press your space face close to mine, love, freak out in a moonage daydream, oh yeah

“like i said, anything for you,” you reached out, offering her the blunt next and she took it with ease. “can i ask you something?” ellie asked, her confidence coming back with the high creeping up on her. 

“shoot.” you responded.

“what did you see in her?” along with her question, she passed the blunt off to you, and you hit it while contemplating your answer. 

don't fake it, baby, lay the real thing on me

“i don’t know, if i’m being honest. she asked me on a date and we had a good time,” you took a beat. “it was nice, for a little. i guess.” 

“she didn’t deserve you, you know?” ellie remarked, taking the blunt back. “i’m not saying that because i kissed you, im saying it because i really mean it.” and because i kissed you. because you deserve someone like me. 

not someone like me. just me. 

“yeah, i know.” you answered softly. 

the church of man, love, is such a holy place to be

a silence fell between you and ellie, and she took the time to inhale the smoke into her lungs and back out. it was nearly out now and she ashed it into the tray. you loved the way she looked when she smoked, her hair in a messy bun, eyes red. your mind raced to the thought of her hands on you like they were a few weeks ago, aggressive but polite. the way she treated every curve of your body like it was a piece of artwork, you’d never admit it but you yearned for that feeling again. 

“well, can i ask you a question?” you asked her and she nodded bringing the blunt back to her lips, which somehow gave you small flurries in your stomach. “why did you kiss me?” 

she raises her eyebrows slightly, cocking her head to the side with a smirk. “you kissed me back you know? didn’t we just vow never to speak of it again?” she said in a mock accusatory tone. 

“i asked you a question,” you demanded, half joking. “and we're high, so it doesn’t count.”

make me, baby, make me know you really care, make me jump into the air

she looked down to the blunt between her fingers, choosing her words carefully. “heat of the moment, i think.” lie.

“c’mon ellie, i was honest with you.” you persisted with a laugh, knowing she was keeping the truth from you. 

she breathed out your name and her red eyes bore into yours, “why do you think i kissed you?” ellie spoke softly, as if anyone else would hear. 

she wanted to kiss you again and images of you on your back and your arms wrapped around her neck flooded her mind. it clouded her to say the least, as if the weed wasn’t doing that already. the way your body felt against hers, the electricity she felt when she kissed you and above all, you moaning in pleasure by ellie just simply touching you made her weak in the knees. 

keep your 'lectric eye on me, babe put your ray gun to my head

“i wish you would’ve done it before i went out with her,” you stated, unsure if that was the right thing to say. ellie’s eyebrows raised and you admired her eyebrow slit and how it suited her face well, even if it was an accident. 

“i wanted to ever since you got here,” ellie remarked, thinking about the day you arrived in jackson, she smiled at the memory. “but you were so…you, it made me nervous.” admitting that to you made her cheeks flush bright red and she could feel the heat she was radiating off. 

“oh, wow. i make the infamous ellie williams nervous?” you flaunted, theatrically throwing your hair over your shoulders. 

“shut up.” she playfully pushed your upper body.

“you shut up!” you laughed, pushing her back which resulted in her dropping the small blunt on the floor. you both immediately went to go pick it up, your hands touching as they reached the blunt. you were leaning further over than ellie was, face close to hers and you could swear you felt her breath on your face. 

press your space face close to mine, love, freak out in a moonage daydream, oh

the feeling that came over her the day in the woods was back again, this time in fuller force. every nerve in her body was heightened and her mind was screaming, kiss her you idiot! over and over again until she couldn’t fight the urges anymore.

swiftly, she cupped your face in her hands, pulling you into a deep kiss. it wasn’t hungry or lust filled, it felt sweet and you all but smiled as she did. your hand involuntarily moved up to grab her forearm, desperate for her touches again. and as if she could read your thoughts ellie gently pushed you down so she was over top of you on her small couch. 

the song in the background faded out slowly, the only sound was the heavy breathing of both of you. your legs went around her waist and she lowered herself into you. she pulled away from the kiss, staring at you longingly. a small smile splayed across her face and she reached up to brush away a loose strand of hair from your face. she pushed it behind your ear, following your hair down to your neck with her finger, just looking as if she was committing you to memory. and she was. 

“els?” 

“yeah baby?” she cooed, still hovering her eyes all over you a new found confidence in her, knowing you were just as crazy for her as she was for you.  

her green eyes found yours, “i have patrol in the morning,” you all but whined and ellie groaned playfully, burying her face in the crook of your neck. “i should try and get some sleep,” ellie kissed your neck, sucking on one spot below your ear which made your body twitch. “williams!” you laughed and her face was in front of yours again. 

“stay here tonight?” she asked, almost begged, her puppy eyes nearly bulging out of her head. 

“course,” you replied and she very hesitantly got off of you to go to her dresser. as you sat up on the couch, you noticed the blunt still on the floor. picking it up and seeing it was definitely ashed by now you looked around for her trash can. 

when you went to throw it away you saw crumpled up papers in the bin, ellie wasn’t one to waste and when you reached down to investigate she yelled from across the room, “don’t!” but it was too late, the paper was being unfolded in your hands and when you saw what she didn’t want you too, you understood why.

she had drawn you, on your horse looking out over jackson from the patrol look-out. ellie came up behind you and snatched the paper away from you, replacing it with a large t shirt of hers. “you’ve been drawing me?” you asked sweetly. 

“maybe,” she tried to deflect, “cmon, change. you need your sleep.” you obliged, letting her take the picture which she flattened out on her desk instead of throwing it away again. she was embarrassed about it but you adored it and wondered if that was the first time she had done that. it wasn’t. 

ellie often found herself sketching you, even if she didn’t mean to. she was practicing eyes and thought they looked familiar until she realized they were yours. those were crumbled up as well, probably long gone by now and she cursed herself for it. 

you changed and despite the moment(s) she had with you, she turned away as you did letting you have some privacy. she was waiting patiently, looking at her old books on her shelf when you came up behind her and took her hand in yours. she felt electricity in her hands as you touched her, the feeling not going away as you pulled her into her own bed. 

you fell asleep listening to ellie’s heartbeat in her chest, her arm wrapped tightly around you. there wasn’t much said, the high putting you both to sleep and when morning came ellie was alone in her bed, her clock reading 9:06 am. 

for a scary moment, she thought she had dreamed the whole thing. she got too high and hallucinated you flirting back with her, kissing her sweetly and wearing her t-shirt. she rolled over and noticed a small indent in the bed and could still smell the springy smell that belonged to you. not a dream…

right, you had patrol. but why wouldn’t you wake her? ellie groaned and sat up in her bed, regretful she wasn’t able to say a simple goodbye before you left. she knew from previous trips you’d be back in about an hour, so ellie got up and got ready for the day and set out for the front gates. it was the middle of spring, she decided to wear a short sleeved blue button up with ripped jeans and her converse that desperately needed replacing.

as she approached the gates, the familiar sound of bustling jackson townies filled her ears. she could smell the breakfast from the only restaurant in town and her mouth filled with water, but she was determined to make sure you got back safely first. 

she was approached by dina, who looked tiresome. “thank god we have the day off, im exhausted.” normally, she would agree. patrolling could get boring as often as she did it, the same routes she’s always taken, fighting small groups of infected here and there. but today she wished differently, her eyes darting from dina and the still closed gates, she wished she could have come with you. 

“yeah,” was all she said at first, contemplating telling her friend about the events of last night. sandra breaking up with you, taking you back to her place, how you kissed her back passionately. it made ellie think about how you could have ever been with sandra, and if you ever kissed sandra like that, felt her the way you did with ellie. a feeling of jealousy swarmed over her, glossing over her thoughts and destroying them. had you done all of that with her? did you think about me when you were with her? were you with her like that?

she decided against speaking about it, scared that she would burst into flames on the spot. “i’m switching back to morning patrols next week.” ellie announced to dina who raised her eyebrow in question before coming to her own conclusion about why. 

“so things are good with you guys again?” dina asked, biting into a sandwich and the sight made ellie’s stomach grumble. 

ellie looked everywhere but her friend. “yeah, i guess so.” she figured dina had no idea what transpired last night being so enveloped in jesse, but dina knew something was off even if ellie had stated you two were okay. 

“so, what happened? all the gritty details, please.” dina said in between bites, ellie’s eyes still wandering to the gate. 

“where’s jesse? shouldn’t you two be off, i don’t know, making babies?” ellie said defensively, having no effect on dina being as she's used to ellie’s snarky remarks. she glanced back from the gate to look at her friend whose mouth was agape. 

“oh my god, ellie williams what did you do?” 

ellie scoffed, crossing her arms. “i didn’t do anything!”

“tell me right now, ellie. malcom owes me some favors and putting your name on horse clean-up will be no problem.” dina threatened. 

she sighed, looking to the ground in defeat. “sandra broke up with her and i made her feel better, okay? that’s all.” 

“you boned her the night she got broken up with?” dina asked, astonished at her friend. 

“jesus christ,” ellie sighed. “no, i didn’t bone her, asshole. we just smoked and talked for a while and…” 

“and what?” dina cut her off quickly. 

“she may have spent the night.” dina’s shocked expression changed into a soft one and ellie immediately huffed, looking back to the gate. still not opening. 

“dina!” they both heard jesse’s voice behind them, dina turned to see her boyfriend waving her on. 

“i have to go, but i want details when i see you later!” she stated swiftly before patting ellie on the shoulder and sprinting to jesse. ellie said a quick goodbye before hearing the familiar sound of the creaking gates, indicating you had returned. 

before she knew it herself, her legs were moving her towards the gate as the horses started to stride in. she waited anxiously, scanning faces of all the morning patrols before landing on your beautiful face, but when she glanced over to see your patrol partner, her hand clenched into a fist by her side. 

it was sandra, her horse keeping the pace next to yours as if on purpose. ellie’s face went red, feeling the heat burning her cheeks she thought she would have burn marks from it. she watched as you looked at sandra, laughing. that laugh you had been blessing her ears with the night before. “the fuck…?” ellie said to herself in a low whisper. 

you made eye contact with a disturbed ellie, quickly glancing back to sandra as if to say bye. and as ellie approached you and your horse, she helped you dismount without a word. “hey els,” you said happily, hoping to see her face relax. it didn’t, but ellie handed off the reins to a stable keeper before taking her hand in yours. 

she basically dragged you away from the stables, taking a quick look back to see sandra looking at you two with an unrecognizable expression. “ellie, she was already scheduled–” 

jealousy pouring out of her, ellie responded, “i don’t care about that, what i do care about is her playing with your feelings.” she said in a huff. her hand was still firmly in yours, leading you away. 

“she’s not playing with my fee–” 

“what was that, then?” she turned to you, stopping both of you in your tracks. “did she even apologize to you? does she even know how much she hurt you?” 

“well– uh… not really.” you responded shyly.

“exactly,” she let out a deep breath, she had stopped you in a small alleyway between unoccupied houses, the sound of the town around you seemed to drown out behind ellie’s heavy breathing. 

“i know what this is,” you said with a playful smile. “you’re jealous.” you pointed a finger at her chest and poked her jacket. 

“what?” she asked, half listening. her mind was racing with the thoughts of you and sandra on patrol together, laughing together, being together. 

“you’re jealous,” you said simply, reaching your hand up to her chin gently, redirecting her eyes to you. “its sweet really. but you don’t have to worry about her anymore.” you planted a small kiss on her burning cheek. 

ellie’s eyes closed in comfort at your touch. you pulled away, your intoxicating scent leaving her swiftly before her eyes opened again, peering at yours intensely. your faces just inches from her’s, ellie pulled you into a kiss. wrapping her arms around your waist to bring you even closer.

“okay,” she breathed, finally feeling herself relax with your reassurance. suddenly feeling a little self-conscious of her actions she cleared her throat. “let’s get some breakfast, yeah?” you nodded before wrapping yourself around her arm and continued walking further into town.  i don’t have to worry about her anymore, she repeated to herself. you belong to me.

[unicyclehippo]

flew for the first time in a very long time, since well before covid started, & oh i missed it so much. first, how remarkable an invention a plane is, how clever, how world changing!! it can seem so normal but actually we are FLYING. i looked down on the clouds that look down on me. the sun rose & everything was brilliantly incandescently white. i stared out the window for the entirety of the admittedly too-short flight & cloud spotted—i saw lions & palaces of cloud & a fleet of dolphins breaking out of the waves. mostly it looked like quilting wadding. i love to fly. i love to people watch, i love to cloud watch, i love the clouds, i love the captains & the cabin crew. when i fly i feel like i will never run out of things to love about humans

a short list of things i loved about the two flights i took:

- special shoutout to the cabin crew, ground crew, they’re incredible. literally all the crew i interacted with had the biggest smiles & were so so friendly & helpful. if ur a crew member out there, i love you. huge shout out to the mid 50s (?) hostess on my first flight—short, super sharply put together in the “im a modern witch” kinda way—who had a quip for almost every comment directed her way. the only one i rmbr was when an elderly passenger called her love she replied “how’d you know my name is love? you must be a psychic!”

- all the passengers i saw were calm & unruffled at the least & sometimes very nice! all around me i could hear people meeting & passing with those small human courtesies repeated & repeated—pardon me, d’you mind if i duck past, hey do you need help with your bag, oh mind their head there, where are you headed, can you get by do you need some room, thank you, thank you, thank you, can i help you, can i help you, can i help you

- special shoutout to the passenger w the crying baby. he was such an upset baby & the only thing that calmed him was being walked up & down the aisle over & over. every time he came down the aisle, i saw heads turn toward him & people smiling their baby smiles—exaggerated, kind, often accompanied by a scrunch of the nose or a tiny wave. ‘he doesn’t sound happy poor thing,’ i heard a lot, or things like it, as his dad bounced him in his arms, & then, invariably, help was offered. ‘my mother swears by this trick‘ — ‘my husband does this to calm our kids” — ‘my wife always does this’. the flight was delayed by nearly fifty minutes. no one was allowed out of their seat as we idled on the tarmac except for this unhappy baby & his dad, walking up & down the aisle.

- special shoutout to my seat buddy, who had a wonderful bright yellow backpack with rainbow straps. i have a matching one & told her so. she said it was a whim, on account of the yellow & rainbow. i told her it’s a very durable bag & one of my favourites. there’s a softening that comes with a compliment, a small comment when we meet—it’s an invitation from then on to say whatever little something pops into our heads. are you listening to music? what book are you reading - oh it’s a library book! good on you mate! we gotta use them more. do you know how to get the headphones working—ooh i figured it out. mind if i use your charger, mines not working. hey the refreshments are headed this way did you want anything? are you headed home? my family is in the row in front & she smiles every time they twist uncomfortably to chat through the gaps in the seats. later, as we are waiting to disembark, she confesses she was on the flight before but it was cancelled . you mean i could’ve had more space, i teased. she laughed, apologises. i could have had far worse company…but not by much, i teased a little more, & she laughed harder. get home safe, we say to each other—i don’t know her name, she knows mine just because my mother whispered it through the seats (are you too hot back there? do you have enough leg room? i can’t move the seat but - oh your sister wants me to recline my seat onto you, im going to squish you!). get home safe, i hear echoed by ten more people to their seat buddies as i hurry off the plane. the last is from a smiling crew member (refer back to my first point. i love you crew members).

- a turbaned man held his baby up at the huge windows looking out to the planes. she clung to him for a minute then tried to dive out of his arms, her own spread wide like the wings of a plane, laughing.

- the women having dinner in the food court as we waited for our plane. i was facing away from them & somewhat half heartedly eavesdropping but every now & again they said something so familiar that it may as well have been my own sisters sitting behind me. ‘—don’t hate her but some of the things she says-‘ ‘i know, i know. can she even hear herself? it’s like. so self-centred.’ ‘and she THINKS she’s being the nice one or she wants us to think it? i don’t even KNOW anymore. like, either she’s so conceited she thinks we love everything she does or she knows she’s behaved badly & is enjoying, i don’t know, us not knowing what to say?’ ‘i KNOW. and, like, we have to be honest,’ ‘absolutely,’ ‘but at the same time it’s like. she should know.’ ‘she should KNOW.’ ‘but she doesn’t or she’s pretending not to and im so done.’ i don’t know who you ladies were, i never saw your faces, i wish you all the best with your friend.

- the Intensely Cheerful & Organised Mother who was my seat buddy on flight 1. you were corralling three teen daughters &, from the glimpses of your notebook i caught, were studying for a test on medicine or maybe nursing. i know you were all on your way to see taylor & you were Determined that it was going to be the perfect trip. i have never seen someone work so hard at getting their luggage to fit in the overhead compartments but you managed to find a space for all of it & i applaud you now

i know there’s more but im for bed. basically i love to fly & im so happy to have done it again

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

Hi maggots... I have to go out for an entrance exam in a half hour but here I am, stealing a while to talk to you all. I don't know, why are we always making time for the things that are important and using time for the things we have to do but always stealing time for what we want to do? What is wasting time, anyway? I don't know. I don't know much at all.

I made the mistake of playing a new song while typing this first bit. It's Birch, by Big Red Machine and Taylor Swift. Do new songs ever make you feel a bit nervous but excited, like you're experiencing some emotion for the first time and reading a book or watching a movie and you don't quite know how it will end and where it will take you on the way? It's not the kind of thing you do lightly. Well, I mean, it's not the kind of thing I can do lightly. I'll have to listen to it again, while I'm not here writing.

This counts, doesn't it, as writing? Why do I have to be writing my book or a poem or a song for it to be real writing? I'm putting words together and I'm putting them together for us, for you and me. God we make ourselves feel guilty with so many arbitrary definitions.

A familiar song is playing now, The Alcott by The National and Taylor Swift. I think their voices meld together beautiful, gritty and smooth. I think Swift is a skilled singer-songwriter, as well as a performer. I think a lot of things.

Why am I writing an entrance exam? Well, writing is an exaggeration, it'll involve sketching and maybe an interview. It's for an art school. The design school I got into, which I told you all about and was thinking of not doing, well, that got messy. They were... not very polite about a scholarship that they'd said they'd give. And I can't risk going to a situation like my last college. I don't wanna sully this post with it (how do I use words like wanna and sully next to each other, I really cannot pick a way to use this language) but well. It wasn't fun. I don't want to be an unfriendly/unsafe environment if I can help it.

Am I excited or nervous for the exam? Not really. Too many things have happened to leave any room for that. It's mainly resignation, a sort of oh, is this what's happening now? ok. That's sad. But I still care about things, I promise. Not the things I used to, like academics or grades or some abstract future. I care about you. I care about you so much. I think about you all the time. I care about my mum and my dog. About stickers and Good Omens and Sherlock Holmes and music and books.

It's a different kind of caring.

I have ten minutes left. I need to shower and pack my things in that time. I'm cutting it fine. Like a slice of whale. Some of you are confused by that. A lot of you are thinking Asmi, no, no, no. That makes me smirk. A fine slice of whalegina, loves.

I'll tell you all about it one day (hush, those of you still desperately thinking Asmi, no with a mixture of horror and fascination).

It's the sixth of May here. 2024, for those of you who've lost track of years. A Monday. Tomorrow is my twentieth birthday. So many things are happening in my life, not all of them good, but what's always good is you. It's us.

We're good. We're always good. I love you. So much.

I promise, maggots. We're more than friends, we're family. And to whoever it is reading this, maggot, even if we've never spoken, I care about you. Because you took the time to read this. You took the time to care. I care, too. I care about you.

I'll go shower now, in a bit of a rush, but smiling. Because of you. Because of all of you.

Love, Asmi

[yuri-is-online]

i’ve got this picture of Yutu being kind of artsy from your description. besides, being an outcast probably means a lot of solo hobbies from no friends. maybe a bonding method for Yutus with a father that is more artistic 👉👈

You have such a good point about being an outcast driving people towards solo hobbies σ(￣、￣=) certain Yutus are more outgoing than others but that does only get you so far.  Of the ones I have written about, Floyd! and Cater! Yutu both had friend circles before coming to Twisted Wonderland, while Ace!, Azul!, and Riddle! Yutu were certifiably friendless.  Bonding between Yutu and a more artistic dad hmmmmm let's see...

notes: they/them used for Yuu, this is part of my fyuuture kid au, you can find an explanation of it here and here, or look at my masterlist for all of the posts.

Vil! Yutu

... really likes to paint and draw, when I first wrote about him his unique magic involved temporarily bringing his paintings to life.  My brother used to dig through old fashion mags when he was teaching himself to draw and I can see Yutu doing the same.  So when he finally gets to see a not tortured version of his father and finds out he is a model on top of being an actor?  He's so eager to learn about all of it, and Vil has got to be thrilled to share.  You know between him and his own dad Vil has got to have a nice collection of vintage designer items he's willing to let Yutu have a look at.  Yutu has drawn his dad a lot, receiving a drawing someone has made for you is already beyond flattering, but when it's from a family member?  Forget the fridge, Vil is getting this framed.  I can also see him maybe commissioning Yutu because he wants to make sure he never under sells his work.  He is a member of the Schoenheit family, he is allowed, nay required to have a great deal of pride in himself.

Cater! Yutu

... likes playing guitar and he loves playing with his dad.  He's not really interested in playing with the other pop music club members, Yutu is a bit shy around his dad's friends.  When he's stressed he likes to play a few songs and sing, something I could see working for Cater too.  While I'm talking about Cater, I don't think he'd make a bunch of magicam posts about his family, just in general.  He uses magicam as a way of maintaining his false happy facade, his want to date Vil comes at least partially from his presence on magicam, some of his real self is on display there sure but a lot of it is exaggerated and fake.  When he has something real he wants to keep it away from the rest of the world, so while his followers absolutely are told he's #taken #blessed they don't know about the details of his relationship.  At least not if it's a healthy one.

Jade! Yutu

... is someone I haven't written about before but he is also very into music, just not jazz music.  Not that he hates jazz, he's just stuck in that teenage phase of refusing to admit the things his dad likes are cool, something Jade reasonably “sniffles” about but that's not to say music isn't a bonding point for them.  He also plays bass, just an electric not an upright one, and Jade enjoys listening to Yutu play.  He's very supportive and surprisingly soft in his praise for someone who just got done listening to his kid scream out a punk rock song.  As long as Yutu is willing to do some hiking with him (which he is) then he has no real problem with what his kid likes, if anything I can see Jade enjoying their differences.  Life is boring if everyone is the same.

Rook! Yutu

I've been thinking about Rook, just as a character recently and one of those things that's been stuck in my mind is that he was very shy as a child.  To keep this from becoming just general information about Rook! Yutu, unlike his father Yutu never got over his shyness, so a lot of their bonding revolves around Rook encouraging Yutu to see the beauty in himself.  He books tickets to shows, symphonies, and ballets in advance so he can make sure Yutu knows when they are going out and can prepare himself to be seen in public.  They plan their outfits together in advance, look up information about the company and what they are going to see so they can appreciate the art just that much more.  On the day of Rook makes sure to kiss Yuu goodbye,  and promises to come home safe.  But not to worry, he always has Yutu help him pick out a bouquet of flowers to bring back for you.  (Unless you're allergic to pollen in which case he'll bring home something else.)

[vettelinyourarea]

kid in love - oliver bearman

genre: fluff

warning: english is not my first language

word count: 799

inspired by kid in love by shawn mendes

definitely a shorter fict, but i had a lot of fun writing it.

feel free to give me a feedback!

and i know that we just met

and maybe this is dumb

but it feels like there was something from the moment that we touched

Ollie met you for the first time through a mutual friend. He remembers that moment very clearly, as if it just happened five minutes ago. It was in the small bookstore you family owned. And no, Ollie is not the biggest reader, but he surely spends a lot of time in the bookstore just so he could talk to you.

He still remembers how soft your hand was when you shake his hand for the first time. Olli was not a believer of ‘love at the first sight’ or anything of that sort, but he surely felt his breath got taken away when he first hear your voice saying his name.

“Hi Ollie, nice to meet you.”

the way you’re lighting up the room

caught the corner of my eye

we can both sneak out the back door

we don’t have to say goodbye

it was a few months after Ollie got introduced to you when he finally gather up some courage to ask you to hang out. The first time he went out with you, he insisted that it wasn’t a date or anything like that. Well, he tried to convince himself that anyway.

He invited you to go to the aquarium after he noticed how much love you have for sea creatures. Listening to your ramble about them makes himself happy even though he doesn’t understand much.

Ollie can confirm that the moment he saw your eyes lit up when you entered the aquarium area, that was the moment he finally admitted to himself that he had fall for you, hard. The way your eyes sparkled underneath the aquarium light makes him unable to look at anything but you. The way you smiled and thank him for taking you there makes Ollie realized he never wants to say goodbye to you at the end of the day.

“Do you want to go grab some dinner first?”

maybe i’m just a kid in love

maybe i’m just a kid in love oh, baby

if this is what it’s like falling in love

then i don’t ever wanna grow up

Okay, maybe it was a bit of an exaggeration when he called you to be the best thing that ever happened to him in his whole entire life. Afterall, he just turned 18 a couple of months ago. But that doesn’t mean what he said wasn’t true.

For Ollie, falling for you comes naturally. He loves everything about you. He will listens to anything you said even though he doesn’t understand any of it, he will watch over you anytime, he would sacrifice anything in his life if it meant you’re living happily.

Both of you are just two cluelessly in love. But oh, how much Ollie wish not to grow up if this is how it feels to be a kid in love.

if you’re feeling kinda crazy

turn down the lights

we can take our time

do whatever you like

Ollie also remembers the moment he asked you to be his girlfriend. It was midnight, you were reading a book while he finished his essay. He remembers the soft music playing on the background and a couple of scented candles lit up on the kitchen counter, making the scene feels very romantic.

“Can I be your boyfriend?” he had asked, mentally scolding himself right after. Because who the hell said that? He had thought

“What?” you asked, pretty surprised by his sudden outburst. How could you not? You were literally shoving down an entire bowl of popcorn into your mouth when he asked you that, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Will you be my girlfriend?” he finally asked correctly with a blush coloring his cheek.

You don’t need to be asked thrice and a full confession to accept him.

you make me feel like i got it all

and you make me feel like i’m just a kid in love

you make me feel like i got it all

and you make me feel like i don’t ever wanna grow up

Being in a relationship with you is way better than what Ollie had ever dreamed of. You are always there for him. You were there when he finished his F3 season. You were there when it was announced that he will be joining F2 for the next season.

Ollie is also there on every step of your life. He was there when you graduated high school. He was also there right next to you when you opened your offer letter from your dream university

With you on every step of his journey, Ollie was sure that he will always be a kid in love and how he wish to never grow up.

[humbledragon669]

S1E2 – The Book Write Up P3– Present Day/Thursday (2 days to the end of the World) (from Aziraphale and Crowleys’ arrival in Tadfield up to their departure from Tadfield Manor)

Despite only looking at a short section of this episode, there is a lot of ground to cover in this part of the write up so let’s not waste any time! This collection of thoughts and meanderings commences from the scene in the episode where Aziraphale and Crowley are entering the Tadfield area. The first time I watched this through, I had thought that the plan for the swapping of the Antichrist as described by Crowley had actually been devised by him too. But that’s not possible, is it? Crowley doesn’t become aware of his involvement in the Antichrist plan until he’s actually being handed a baby and Harriet Dowling is already in labour and on her way to the “hospital”. So presumably there was another agent in Tadfield (at the air base?) who was ready to suggest that she be transported elsewhere, though that is never confirmed in any sense, let alone with details of who that agent was. With that in mind though, it’s no wonder that Crowley gets defensive when it’s pointed out that the plan has failed; after all, it only failed AFTER the point where he became involved.

Aziraphale’s speech about the flaws of evil feels like a strangely personal attack on Crowley here, though if that’s the case the following line has some interesting connotations:

Evil always contains the seeds of its own destruction.

We know that Heaven considers all beings from Hell to be inherently evil – is he insinuating that Crowley is on a path to self-destruction when he says this? The whole speech seems almost spiteful to me, which is not really a quality I associate with Aziraphale, particularly when it comes to Crowley. I wonder if this whole speech is meant to part of a campaign, which I would think is a long and outstanding one, to try and get Crowley to stop bending to his Hellish ways so much. Which is of course impossible. That underlying meaning would explain why Crowley takes the whole thing so calmly, and brushes it all off with a glib response, for which he is rewarded with a look that I would argue contains admiration, pride, and not a little bit of desire.

There’s one other little Easter egg to be had in this scene. We can hear the music, which starts the scene as a classical piece obviously chosen by Aziraphale, morphing into Queen and instantly becoming more prominent at the point where Crowley essentially wins the argument. I’ve said it before about music being used to convey subtextual plot points, and I feel that this is one of those. If we thought Aziraphale had the upper hand in the discussion at the beginning of the scene, the music tells us that is quite definitely not the case by the end of it.

We’ll take a quick detour into another The Them scene, but there’s not a lot I have to say about it. I do like how the innocence and exaggeration of a child’s imagination is used as a device to really hammer home the ridiculousness of the reasoning behind torturing people for religious persecution. And the irony of Adam basically telling Anathema that what she’s looking at is right in front of her face, which she instantly dismisses.

Back with our heroes, and it’s time to really start getting into some weeds I think. So first let’s just pick up on the information that Aziraphale is capable of feeling the love of other people: I imagine this to be like the someone’s love of something leaving traces of that love on whatever it is that is the object of their affection, and he can feel those traces. It is suggested in this same scene that this is a power that Crowley doesn’t share. More importantly, and I think you’ll all know what I’m about to talk about, when Aziraphale does detect love, he instantly reaches out and touches Crowley:

This is one of those things that I said lots of other people have already talked about. I don’t feel like I can call this write up complete if I don’t acknowledge this EXTREMELY important interaction. Let me clear about what I think about it: Aziraphale feels love and reaches for it. We will see this reflex again in later episodes so I am not backing down. Not only do we see him touch Crowley in this scene, but there appears to be a split second when they reach for each other’s hands. You have to really be paying attention, and some people might think it’s more likely to be just the momentum of David’s arm swinging but I’m not one of those people. Crowley’s hand swings three times after Aziraphale reaches out to him, the second of which has more range than the first, suggesting that there is some movement there not caused by pure momentum. His hand even starts to turn upwards to meet a receiving hand. Not to mention Aziraphale’s hand is held in a position that definitely suggests he’s expecting to receive a hand. I managed to catch a few frames that show what I’m talking about:

You can try and talk me out of this if you want, but it will be very much falling on deaf ears; after all, my head canon is that they have already been a couple in secret for 11 years at this point. So with that covered, let’s move (quickly) on to something less contentious – the second and last time (at time of writing!) we see Crowley in anything other than his human form.

There’s a little bit in the book about this, and the fact that he hates doing transformations because he’s always worried he’ll forget how to change back to his “favourite shape”, which I really like. The show version of Crowley doesn’t seem to hate it though – he is thoroughly enjoying the mischief he’s just caused. And interestingly, Aziraphale doesn’t flinch in the slightest at that’s just happened. Maybe he’s seen this sort of behaviour before, maybe he’s just too worried about the paint stain on his coat that he’s had for 180 years. Either way, he’s not bothered by Crowley’s behaviour (or appearance) here at all.

Alright, time to pick apart another micro-interaction that’s already been covered dozens of times – the cleaning of the coat. I think the least wordy way for me to cover this is going to be in GIFs with some out-of-band captions with my head canon’s subtext for each one – I’d like for there to be as few words for this analysis as possible because this is one of the moments between them that, despite how many times I’ve watched it over, still makes my heart pound a little faster and causes the butterflies to start fluttering in my stomach. OK, here goes…

Head canon subtext: I really love this coat. I could miracle the stain away but that’s sort of cheating. But it wouldn’t be cheating if someone else did it for me. I couldn’t ask “someone” to do it for me though otherwise that’s still like I’ve cheated and makes me seem needy. So maybe “someone” will understand what I’m trying to say…

Head canon subtext: aww, poor baby… (très sarcastic).

Head canon subtext: pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeease…

Head canon subtext: urgh, fine, I have to get this stuff off me anyway. But I’m going to make it look like I’m not really doing this for you.

Head canon subtext:

AZIRAPHALE: oh, lovely, he got the message. And he did a splendid job. Best say thank you and pretend I didn’t expect him to do it, let him think it was a thoughtful gesture on his part.

CROWLEY: (shaking his head in disbelief) oh you’re welcome, angel. As if that’s not what you were angling for in the first place.

Head canon subtext: did I get away with it? I think I did.

Head canon subtext: you absolutely did NOT get away with it, angel. You know it. I know it. You know that I know it. I know that you know that I know it. And so on and so forth. But now you owe me a favour. Anyway, I only did it because I know that you adore that coat and because getting rid of that stain would make you really happy. Because I’d do anything for you really.

And there we have it. There are two other integral parts of the scene I want to point out here:

We hear the demonic miracle noise again when Crowley miracles the paint away. It should most definitely be cemented in your brain by now.

This is a pretty clear display of the hidden/non-verbal communication channels that Aziraphale and Crowley have established between themselves.

Moving on now (just not very far). There’s something very double-entendre about the language Aziraphale uses in the conversation about a gun. I mean who calls a paintball gun “impressive hardware”? And we can see how genuinely ridiculous his assessment of the weaponry is by watching Crowley’s face, who is clearly humouring him:

Crowley also shows us just how valid he considers Aziraphale’s argument that guns can be used to give weight to a moral argument when he discards the paintball gun carelessly. To be fair to the angel, even he isn’t convinced of Heaven’s rhetoric on this point, though he chooses to show it in a much subtler way.

As the couple enter the Manor, and just in case you didn’t recognise the man who is now passed out on the ground in the courtyard, we are informed that the company undertaking the exercise are none other than Newt’s previous employers – United Worldwide Holdings (Holdings).

If that little treat for the eagle eyed wasn’t enough, we’re also treated to not one, not two, but three casual instances of physical contact between Crowley and Aziraphale here:

I love this – neither of them appears to notice that it’s happening, presumably because it happens all the time. There’s plenty of room for them to walk through the hallway with some space between them (in fact we see just how much space there is available to them in the next shot), but they clearly just can’t help themselves.

And ooh look, another instance of the demonic miracle noise. I sincerely hope you’ve hardwired to that noise and what it means by now… And this time around, we see how much fun Crowley is having being mischievous – he’s getting to pick Aziraphale’s argument about guns and their place in a moral argument to pieces using the concept of free will whilst simultaneously winding the angel up. He’s really in his element. He can’t keep the pretence up for long though, Aziraphale’s righteous attitude just takes all the fun out of it really quickly. There is an interesting parallel between what Aziraphale calls fun and what classes as the same for Crowley. In episode 1, we see Aziraphale declaring that fun for him is achieving success in doing things the “hard” (human) way, instead of relying on his miracles to achieve the same success. Here Crowley shows us that fun for him is very different – it’s about providing opportunities for humans to confront their own choices, watching their emotional response without causing any physical damage. He’s actually railing against his authorities in a way that they wouldn’t be able to tell he was defying them, which likely adds to the fun. Pretty complicated for a lowly demon don’t you think? Whilst Aziraphale’s motivations are entirely selfish. They make such a funny little pair, don’t they?

Alright, we all knew it was coming. One of the most iconic moments of this show.

I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will add to the libraries worth of discussion that have been had about this, so I’ll try and keep this brief. Perhaps the best way for me to get through this is to present my take on the wall slam incident along with a few key arguments. Is Crowley threatening Aziraphale when he pins him up against the wall? Is Aziraphale frightened of Crowley when he does pin him? My answer to both of these questions is a resolute “NO”. Does the wall slam have subtextual meaning? HELL YES. Let me illustrate.

Aziraphale knows exactly what to say to initiate this little dance. Note the smirk on his face just before he calls Crowley “nice”:

That is the face of an angel who knows exactly what the consequences of his actions are going to be. And if you think he’s on his own in that knowledge, check out Crowley’s face whilst he just waits for this line to land:

My thoughts? Aziraphale is deliberately invoking this reaction. I’m going to go all out here and say that I think he’s probably quite turned on by his demon’s behaviour and that this is him acting on it. I’d even go so far as to say they’ve probably already played this little bit of kink out before, with “nice” being the trigger word for the role play. If you’re still in doubt, let’s take a look at a couple of things. First, you can see Aziraphale bracing himself slightly before he hits the wall proper:

OK, so that one could be argued away as something Michael did to protect himself from getting hurt. What you can’t use the same argument on is the expression on his face as Crowley snarls in his face:

There’s not the slightest hint of fear on his face, even though Crowley is so close that their noses are touching. How about if we look at it from the other side?

Not only is he not afraid, but his gaze has shifted. Now it looks like he might be looking straight at Crowley’s lips…  And how about immediately after they’re discovered?

Aziraphale’s eyes stay on Crowley’s face for a second. And even when his gaze is drawn to the source of the interruption, we can see how completely unafraid he is of what’s just happened.

Crowley on the other hand looks a little panicked, I suspect because he’s a little worried that they’ve been discovered. And let’s not leave out the most obvious Clue that our heroes were acting on impulse – ex-Sister Mary Loquacious TELLS US THAT’S THE CASE:

Excuse me, gentlemen. I’m sorry if I’m breaking in on an intimate moment-

Well yes, love, you really were, as evidenced by how quickly Crowley’s “fury” dissipates and Aziraphale’s nonchalant resetting of his clothes. He does look pretty disappointed at the way things have turned out though. And despite all of that supposed rage we saw just seconds ago, the two of them are on pretty friendly ground again very quickly – there is A LOT of shoulder brushing going on between them as they question the ex-nun and leave the manor. Crowley even summons Aziraphale away from Mary with an insistent “oi” as he goes, hardly the sort of thing you’d trot happily off to if the person issuing it had just been terrorising you.

I need to deviate slightly from the body language of ethereal beings for a second, because we’re introduced to a new miracle noise here, this time to indicate that Crowley has just performed a sort of time-freeze on a person:

It’s used in conjunction with the previously established demonic miracle noise, but this time there’s an additional sound over the top – it makes me think of a bubble and reminds me of the noise a wobble board makes. So now we have another noise to be on the lookout for…

As the two of them are leaving the Manor, we see another example of the differing views that Aziraphale and Crowley have of one another. Crowley has categorised them both as being “occult”, but Aziraphale makes a distinction between them, calling himself “ethereal” instead. You can see that Crowley is slightly taken aback by his angel’s insistence on establishing a boundary between them (not surprising considering how little those boundaries mattered to them both in the moments before this), but he doesn’t argue, presumably because he knows it’s rather pointless.

Back in the car, we’re treated to a reminder that Aziraphale is not a fan of Crowley’s driving. Not just that though, we’re also given another piece of musical subtext. The song now playing in the Bentley is Queen’s “Days of Our Lives”, specifically these lines:

Those days are all gone now, but one thing's still true When I look, and I find I still love you

Not really sure how much more obvious anybody would want this message to be to be honest.

On that note, I think this is a good place to finish this section. It’s been longer than intended for such a short chunk of the episode, but I think necessary given the importance of some of the interactions we’ve seen take place in it.  As always, comments, questions, discussions are welcome!

[drvnkd4zed]

Enhypen reacting to drunk Y/n

♡ Jungwon

Jungwon is probably the responsible one, he will prevent you from drinking too much. He'll be all smiles and jokes but when he senses you're going too far, he'd get serious and glance at you frightfully. Jungwon would think you're cute when you're drunk, but still he will tease you imitating the way you were speaking/dancing/etc while you were drunk.

♡ Heeseung

Heeseung would laugh the whole time at the things you say, probably shocked by how different you are when you're drunk. I'm also 100% sure he'll start a karaoke, turning up the volume of the music so that you'll sing even more tragically. Even though he has fun seeing you in such tragi-comic conditions, he is very careful and he would take good care of you. He would carry you on his back, leaving you on your bed and make sure you sleep peacefully.

♡ Jay

Jay's the type to feel embarassed and disappointed (in a funny way actually), he'd be staring at you saying and doing things out of this world. He'd literally count all the times you take sips from the glass and eventually would say "It's time to stop" when he sees you being on the edge. At the end of the night, he'll grab you by your waist making sure you won't fall and lead you to your room. Jay will sit by your side until you fall asleep and leave a kiss on your forehead, then he'd go to sleep too.

♡ Jake

I think Jake would start asking you random questions like "how many days are in November?" just to see how far gone you are. He also knows your limits, so when he sees you're exaggerating he'd just hide the bottles and stop you for drinking more. Even though you'd try to persuade him, saying "one last sip", he'll reply with a firm "no". Just kidding, if you say it multiple times he might buy it and hand you the bottle (because he can't resist you!). In the case you fall asleep on his shoulder, he's not moving by an inch for until you wake up. He'd ultimately cover you with his clothes so you won't feel cold.

♡ Sunghoon

Sunghoon would just face palm himself a hundred of times while laughing. Expect him to use ALL the things you say against you when you'll be sober again (he might also make them more tragic). He would also make up scenarios that never happened just to make you feel more embarassed in front of the others. I think he'd have a lot of fun tho, he'd state something like "You should drink more often".

♡ Sunoo

Sunoo might actually be scared of you as he's seen too many scary movies with drunk people, but then he'll just try to steal the bottle from you. He's willing to help you in case you feel sick, but he'll be like "I told you this would happen" the whole time. Another thing he'd do if you feel sick is panicking, he's warned you that you'd regret drinking so much and he'd probably call his mom crying and asking for help. He will eventually let you lay on the sofa and sleep beside you, even if it's uncomfortable.

♡ Niki

This kid would start a fucking alcohol contest with you where the one who drinks the most wins (luckily the other members won't let that happen). Niki would film you through the whole time just to make some random funny edits about you and post them on the chat with enhypen. I'm also pretty sure he'd make many pranks on you, like making you balancing on a pile of books just to see you fall. Expect him to be the first one to serve the drinks, he has so much fun when you get drunk.

[cielie-voss]

hi, can I make a request for an eddie fic? Like enemies to lovers where the reader is in a classic school band which is always in a fight with corroded coffin? Thanks a lot :D

You know I hate you, right?

Eddie Munson x fem!Reader - Enemies to lovers

Warnings: swearing, Eddie and Reader being bitchy.

a/n: thank you so much, I loved this one, it's so sweet! I hope you like how it turned out!

If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗

Masterlist

“If I were your wife, I would poison your coffee!” Her screeching voice fills the cafeteria.

"Oh yeah?" Eddie stands up angrily and stomps a step towards her, "If I were your husband, I'd love to drink it!"

“She doesn’t mean it.” Shrugging, Gareth leans back in denial.

“Oh, she means it.” With a shake of his head, Jeff brings his friend out of his delusion. “And I couldn’t blame her.”

“Nonsense!” Gareth denies and continues to stick to his conviction.

“Jesus Christ, I’m counting the days until I don’t have to put up with this smug behavior from her anymore.” Grumbling, Eddie sits down at the table again, seething with anger at his eternal rival, who, also seething with anger, stomps away from the table.

"And her wannabe metal look... How I'd love to rip the studs off her vest."

“I bet he’d love to rip other things off her,” Dustin whispers to Gareth, unfortunately not as quietly as he intended to, and receives a bitterly angry look from the freak.

“Never in my life! And not in a thousand years and if we were the last two people in this universe!” he explains to his young friend with a disgusted grimace.

"And now? Where should we practice now?” After a few moments of deliberation, Jeff says what everyone at the table was silently wondering. After the water damage to Gareth's house, the garage was blocked. Unless the guys at Corroded Coffin would love to practice between Laundry baskets and boxes full of books. And at the gig in three months, according to rumors, people from the music industry will also be there to scout new talents. So nothing is more important than practice right now.

“So I guess we can forget about the music room,” Gareth sighs and leans back. “Thanks to our Prince Charming here.”

Eddie shoots up next to him indignantly. “Prince Charming?” His mouth opens and closes like a fish on land, trying to counter this sarcastic remark.

“What can I do about her being like that? A stupid, bitchy, snippy, unfriendly, unempathetic, arrogant wannabe alternative bitch?”

“You don't happen to have any more negative Attributes come to mind as these …”

“Seven, it was seven,” Dustin adds to Jeff’s remark about the line-up of unnecessary adjectives.

An uncomfortable, oppressive silence falls over them as everyone picks at their food thoughtfully.

“Maybe you’ll try again. Just… nicer?” Gareth suggests after what feels like an eternity, furrowing his eyebrows, ready for another angry tirade on Eddie's part.

“Yeah, maybe you should really try charm. You know, women are into that sort of thing. Flattery, nice words,” Jeff adds.

“Oh, and how do you know what women are into?” With a very exaggerated rolling of his eyes, Eddie turns to his friend. “Besides, I doubt there is even an ounce of femininity in this … bitch. And when it does, it's buried deep under a heap of arrogance. No, before I have to deal with her again, hell will freeze over. We'll find another rehearsal room."

XXX

The Hawkins High School music club has always been a tight-knit community, a sanctuary for those who revel in the soothing melodies of classical music. Y/N, with her cello in hand, was the epitome of this world. She thrives on the sweet symphonies that echo through the club's hallowed halls. As for Eddie Munson, lead guitarist of the local metal band and self-proclaimed "Metalhead," he was about to clash with this world in ways he couldn't have imagined.

One sunny afternoon, Eddie and his bandmates strolled into the music club's headquarters, hoping to secure a practice space for the coming months. Despite Eddies reluctance and constant complaints, they managed to talk to him, convince him that this is the only way to find some place to practice. Open confrontation is what they called it. And to keep everything nice and calm, they asked Dustin to help them negotiate.

Y/N, sitting amidst her fellow cellists, raises an eyebrow at the sight of these intruders. Their leather jackets and wild hair stood in stark contrast to the elegant formality she is used to. It is clear from the beginning that Eddie and his bandmates are unwanted guests.

"We need a place to practice," Eddie declares, his voice dripping with defiance.

Dustin added, "Yeah, and we're willing to pay."

“Pay?”, Gareth asks quietly with furrowed brows and leans to Jeff.

The music club's president, a stern guy named Brandon, stares them down. "This isn't a place for your noise," he sneeres.

Y/N's fingers tighten around her cello's neck, her disdain for the interlopers growing by the second. She has always despised their kind—the rebels, the rule-breakers. To her, music was a sacred refuge, and these delinquents threatened to disrupt it. Although she secretly began to find some peace - unlike the one she knew before - in listening to Metallica or even Iron Butterfly.

Eddie, undeterred by the icy glares and piercing remarks, leans in closer to Brandon. "We won't be here forever, just a few months. We won't interfere with your precious little concerts or rehearsals."

Brandon scoffed, his eyes flicking toward Y/N as if seeking her approval. "The answer is no."

Y/N, unable to contain her annoyance any longer, speaks up. “If you won’t take no for an answer, you have to discuss with the principal. And I’m pretty sure, since you’re definitely not his favorite student, he’s on our side. So I’m afraid you have to find another way to practice your … noise.” With her hands gesturing around their instruments, she puts on a smug grin.

Reluctant Dustin tugs at Eddie's vest. “Dude, come on. We’ll find another way.”

“Yeah, go on Freaks, find another way.”, she quips and shoos them out with waving hands.

Eddie raises an eyebrow, smirking as he shoots back, slowly walking towards her, nearer and nearer with every word until their noses nearly touch, "Oh we’ll find another way, little Beethoven. And it’ll bother you even more than sharing this room with us, just because I’d love to see the regret and defeat on your nasty, little face."

The room falls silent, the tension between them palpable. Their exchange has caught everyone off guard, a brief spark of some kind of chemistry amidst the hostility. But neither is willing to admit it.

XXX

In the following weeks, Eddie and his bandmates scoured Hawkins for any available practice spaces. Everywhere they went, doors slammed in their faces, and they were met with cold rejection. It seemed the music club's word had spread like wildfire, labeling them as outcasts.

“Shit. Fucking. Bullshit.” Gareth declares, as they leave another unsuccessful negotiation. “The gig is in two months. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know if this is a stupid idea. But… what about the hellfire club room?” Shrugging, Dustin turns to Eddie with this last resort.

“The-” Eddie takes a deep breath and clenches his hand into a fist, bringing it dangerously close to his face waving around. “The Hellfire Room? Why didn’t we think of this before?!”

Now that a new rehearsal space was found, Corroded Coffin spent every free minute practicing. Of course, to the great dismay of the music club, which was only a few rooms away. Their unruly appearance and the thunderous echoes of their music didn't sit well with the club's traditionalists. A constant battle ensued as to who is louder; Corroded Coffin with their covers of Metallica, Van Halen and Co, or the Music Club with their cello and piano version of Mendelssohn's ‘Song without words’.

One evening, Y/N is practicing with her cello alone when she hears the distant sound of an electric guitar. Curiosity piqued, she follows the music, which stops and starts playing again every now and then, paired with a string of curse words until she stumbles upon an abandoned classroom. There, she finds Eddie, his fingers dancing across the guitar strings, lost in the raw passion of his music and the frustration in not hitting the right tones.

In that moment, Y/N is captivated by the power and emotion in Eddie's playing. It is a stark contrast to the elegance of her cello, but it resonated with her in a way she couldn't explain. She leans against the doorway, silently listening, her earlier animosity momentarily forgotten.

Eddie notices her presence but doesn't stop playing. He smirks and quips, "Enjoying the noise?"

Y/N bites her lip, feeling a strange sense of connection. "It's not noise," she admits, surprising even herself. “And you’re playing it wrong.”

Before Eddie even has the chance to say a word, she continues and takes a step towards him. “Your fingers are too slow. If you would move your index finger faster from here - “ She raises her hand and mimics his hand, still wrapped around his guitar, making it easier to understand for him, “ - to here, you would get the right tone. But either way your finger is too slow, or you just simply don’t know how to actually play guitar.”

Still with furrowed brows, Eddie cocks his head. She’s not wrong. She’s absolutely right. And that bugs him.

“But actually, in my opinion, the latter is the case. Well … “

“Woah, woah, woah! Stop, little Beethoven!” He carefully lays down his guitar, then turns to her, raising his hands indignant. “So you are trying to tell me, Edward Munson, lead guitarist of Corroded Coffin, that I can’t play guitar?” Laughing contemptuously he leans forward and grabs one of the little silly pompoms hanging down from her jacket. “You don’t even know what real music is and you have the audacity to tell me how to play my guitar?”

Rolling with her eyes, Y/N brushes off his hand and sighs. “Dickhead.”, she hisses under her breath, reaching out to his guitar. Before Eddies mind has the chance to comprehend what is happening, she wraps her hand around the neck of said instrument.

“See, you play it this way.” Her fingers glide smoothly over the strings, mimicking his previous playing.

With his eyes wide in shock, he follows her actions. She is good. Really good, actually. But of course Eddie is way too proud to admit it, so he rolls with his eyes and laughs.

“And this is how it’s really done.” She continues the song, but plays the right chords. And damn, she was right. That’s why it never sounded good when Eddie was playing.

“You know, you’re really getting on my nerves, little Beethoven.” Ripping his guitar out of her hands, and pushing her outside of the room again, he desperately tries to fight against the butterflies inside his stomach. But this? Damn, without him knowing, his mind decided that this was damn sexy. And he hates himself for feeling this way.

From that day on, Y/N finds herself drawn to the abandoned classroom. She begins to bring her cello along - pretending to feel safer when she isn’t all alone in the school at night practicing-, while Eddie shreds his incredible solos. Every now and then, he even lets her play with his guitar, acting dumb and like he needs some help from her. They still exchange barbs and insults, but there is a newfound camaraderie beneath it all.

One evening, after a particularly intense jam session, Eddie looks at Y/N, who has brought her own guitar this time, his eyes softened. "You know," he begins hesitantly, "you're not half bad on that guitar of yours."

Y/N raises an eyebrow, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. "Coming from a Metalhead and lead guitarist, that's a compliment, I suppose."

Eddie grins and for the first time, it isn’t a taunting grin. It’s genuine, filled with a warmth Y/N had never seen before.

As the weeks pass, Eddie and Y/N's secret jam sessions continue. They are enemies turned to unlikely allies, and the more they play together, the more their mutual attraction grows. The music club's rejection has pushed them together, and in the process, they discovered a love for each other's worlds.

And the more he gets to know her, the more he realizes that she isn’t just some wannabe alternative bitch, but a real alternative bitch, listening to Metallica, Mötley Crüe and Slayer in secret. He hates to admit it, but he really starts to have a crush on her. Which, of course, his bandmates and friends start to notice.

One evening, after they played a haunting melody that blended their two musical styles, Y/N leans in, her lips brushing against Eddie's ear. "You know," she whispers and his hand automatically finds its place on her knee, "if I were your wife, I'd make you coffee every morning." What is happening? She never even dared to think about getting near to the freak, let alone imagining enjoying this intimacy she recently has with him. Her heart is beating so fast, he nearly could hear its pounding.

Eddie's heart skips a beat, and the tips of his ears start to turn into a burning red as he whispers back, "And if I were your husband, I'd drink it every day."

Carefully he lets his hand run through her soft hair only to stop at her cheek, cupping her face with his calloused hand. He feels the heat of her breath against his neck as she leans further into his touch. Their lips meet in a fiery kiss, sealing the unspoken bond that has formed between them. The enemies-turned-lovers have found their harmony, a fusion of metal and classical music that was as unique as their love story.

“You know I hate you, right?”, he whispers out of breath between kisses.

“Hell yeah,”, she answers, smiling against his lips. “As much as I hate you too.”

In Hawkins, where strange things always seem to happen, the most unexpected love has blossomed between a Metalhead and a Cello player, proving that even the fiercest enemies could become the sweetest of lovers.

xxx

Thank you for reading! 🫶 If you want to be tagged in coming fanfics or if you want to request something, feel free to send me a dm or an ask. 🥰 Likes, comments and especially reblogs are always welcome. 🤗