#absolutely horrendous. fuck this guy

[candy-fae]

Back to Carlie sort of watches supernatural hour!!!

I tried I Tried I TRIED to give dean a chance bc y'all kept saying "no he gets better Carlie!!" And "pay attention Carlie!! " and "WATCH THE WHOLE EPISODE INSTEAD OF JUST SKIMMING WHILE U DRAW CARLIE" and I said fine!!

Fuck it!!! Lemme watch the next episode.

So I put on Season 7, episode 3.

I hate him I hate him I hate him lolololol

The whole episode I just felt horrible for Amy Pond.

I've never been a huge anime fan, but one of the few I HAVE watched has been Tokyo Ghoul. For those who haven't seen it, the premise is that ghouls need human meat to survive, and must hide amongst humanity so as not to get absolutely murdered by ghoul hunters who have learned how to hunt and kill them.

Ghouls have found alternative ways of getting flesh, much like Amy Pond, whom spoiler, works at a morgue. Throughout the series, we see ghouls struggles to hold onto humanity, and try to exist and hold normal bonds and lives. One such perspective is from a mother and small daughter who comes to our main cast for help. Just remember that.

Now, due to our monster, Amy's son getting sick, in a panic, she kills some ppl to feed him. Oopsie, but like, slay momma bear.

Sam also happens to know her personally, and when he finds out she was just doing this one bad thing this ONE time, he leaves her be. Says that's what most people would do in that situation. Dean lies, and tells Sam he trusts his judgment, and then promptly what does he do??

He tracks her down.

And kills her in front of her son, telling her it is her nature that makes her a monster and eventually she will kill again.

And in my head all I saw was the scene in Tokyo Ghoul, where we get the perspective of said monsters. A mother fights to save her baby, and loses her life, just for the baby to be traumatized, and GRIEVE and hate herself for just being born. The question arises, do we as monsters, deserve to even live just because of what we need to survive? If it is sourced ethically, and they aren't actively hurting anyone, do they still deserve the death penalty? I meant hey, sure, maybe they would have killed people in the future. Junior catches the flu and now mommy needs to go Merc an old dying person.

Maybe! But he just simply doesn't believe in hope, and change, or seperating yourself from the cards you were delt, and it's shitty.

He's a shitty, shitty guy, and I think everyone gives him a pass because of the trauma he's been through, and the fact that he's pretty but like noooooo??

Ps. I hope the son, who's just an orphan now I GUESS, does in fact come back, and I hope he Hurts him bad. Nobody chose to be born the way they are, and I guarantee his kill count was higher than hers lmao I just really am not loving this guy like everyone made me think I would. Consider me a meanie little hater who doesn't know what she's talking about bc again!! I'm maybe only watching the parts where he's the WORST, but I was still mad about the werewolf girl, and I'm noticing a pattern with the women here.

[louisdelac]

collected a new hat and a new picture of charoum looking so so scared <3 <3 huge w for dashing bards who shiver and shake and throw up whenever they experience anything even minorly stressful

[inkykeiji]

The aku x reader x chuuya smut was so delicious the combination of them perfect ily you write so well

HEHEHEHEHE aw thank you so much anon bb!!! i really appreciate u and ur words and you taking a moment to send me this (´∀｀)♡ and i’m super happy that u enjoyed it!!! i just think that they’re a very interesting dynamic you know??? because (as far as i’ve seen) aku seems to respect chuuya in a way that feels both honourable and nonchalant. and i think if chuuya were with a girlie aku wanted/was attracted to, he’d feel this back and forth tug between feeling jealous and feeling almost proud, in a way, of his superior; almost like he looks up to him while also wishing he was in his place. he can both respect him and feel that desire to want to be him.

also that uhhhhhhh drama cd of chuuya giving him a bath????? yeah, that. (*/ω＼*)

[narrativedoomed]

that time of year again (obsessed w cl.ay jen.sen)

[shotmrmiller]

johnny dates your friend and then asks her if she's got any friends (you) for his friend (simon). but simon freaks you out. he can't hold a conversation— or won't, you're not sure; you're lucky if you get monosyllabic grunts out of him as if he were a neanderthal. the only times you've seriously heard him talk is to bark out words at either johnny or the bartender.

he walks around with a poorly concealed weapon on his hip, almost like he is expecting trouble. he wears all black, which is completely fine, but then a skull balaclava that he refuses to take off, even to drink his liquor. you don't try to hide the grimace on your face when you watch him sip through the thick fabric. he's got skeleton gloves on his hands too, like some sort of shit cosplay to match his mask.

and he fucking stares, unashamedly so. it is unblinking, scrutinizing, intense— his dark eyes, pools of midnight, keen. he stares at the people walking in through the door, stares at johnny when he takes your friend to the dance floor, and when you tell him out of courtesy that you're going to go get another drink, you can feel him boring holes into the back of your head as you walk away, piercing flesh and bone.

the phantom fingers of his gaze trace icy paths along your spine, erupting your skin in goosebumps. you find him immensely creepy, and you thank the fucking stars you're only here as a favor for your friend. you don't think you want to do this again. he's either a wanted serial killer or just a goddamn freak.

a heavy arm wraps around your shoulders once you're at the bar, and with a sneer on your lips, you turn to the owner of said offending limb, only to come face to face with johnny. he leans into you, close enough to where you can feel his stubble grazing the shell of your ear. (back up, brother.)

"listen, bonnie!" you wince; it's really not that loud in here for him to be yelling like that. "ah ken, ghos— er, simon, might no' be yer average man. he can be a little off-puttin'—" a little? if he doesn't follow you home and skin you alive, you'd be incredibly fortunate— "but ah promise ye, while he may no' be boyfriend material, he's an incredible fuck."

excuse me? he's got to be positively pissed. "maybe you should slow down, yeah? you might already be three sheets to the wind if you're gassing up your unsettling friend's cock. no offense."

"naw! ah'm tellin' ye. long ago, we had a mission tha' ran everyone tight, 'n so we relieved tension the only way we could— big, strong guy like him had me limpin' for a few days after."

you're about to ask for an angel shot because there is no way in hell that your friend's boyfriend is making casual conversation about him getting absolutely railed by—

"give 'em a try. jus' the once, i swear he don't bite," johnny pauses-- the rosy flush on his nose and cheeks vibrant, "unless ye ask nicely. yer friend said ye needed to get laid, anyways." oh, you're gonna fucking kill her, that long-tongued cretin.

"right!" you drink the remainder of your cocktail in one big gulp, liquid warmth trailing down your throat, before not-so-kindly shrugging him off. "i'm gonna go, you, uh— we didn't have this conversation, for the sake of my friend." you gesture at the bartender. "one more, please. i'm gonna need it."

-

damn. now johnny's got you thinking about getting your back broken by simon. maybe you really are just down horrendously, or maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has decided to toss all self-preservation out the metaphorical window because now you can't stop noticing him.

he's real tall— enough to have him slightly tipping his head to walk through a doorway. his shoulders are mountainous, his hands the size of a bear's paw. his physicality is undoubtedly impressive and well, you've always been weak to burly, commanding men.

you make eye contact with johnny from across the room, his bright blue eyes alive under the dim light of the dingy bar, and the bastard shifts his gaze from simon to you, giving a cheeky wink.

lifting your glass, you drink the last of your liquid courage— the taste of it bittersweet. it has been a long time since you've gotten laid.

double damn.

"hey." you lean slightly toward simon, cupping your hand around your mouth. "you and i both know why we're here. take me home?" the way he looks at you has you shifting restlessly in your seat. did you perhaps make a mistake? oh, fuck. did you just throw yourself cunt-first at someone who is not interested? your face burns with embarrassment, heat licking up your cheeks. maybe the earth will split open, right here ri—

"let's go then." oh thank fucking god. you don't know what you would've done if he'd said no. shrivel up and die, probably. "uber'll be here in 4."

when it arrives, he places his leather jacket around your shoulders, cocooning you in its warmth— the heady scent of nicotine clings to the garment— and leads you outside with a hand on the small of your back.

-

the world outside the car blurs into a hazy painting as the driver navigates the streets. colors blend together, once sharp outlines now dissolved. the rain gently taps on the window, a soothing sound that could easily lull you to sleep until you start when a roughened palm suddenly glides along your thigh— fingers slowly tracing intimate patterns on your skin.

simon's hand is hot, and it only burns hotter the closer it gets to your center under your least favorite skirt. he cannot be serious right now. you place your hand over his, short nails biting into him because there is no way you're about to be fingered in an uber—

his voice is deep, a deliciously thick rumble, right by your ear. "nice kitty." you've never been one for pet names or anything else for that matter, but the pulse of arousal that shoots up your spine has a shaky exhale leaving your lips, a ghostly breath fogging up the window.

the tips of his fingers tease the seam of your knickers, a generic cotton fabric that clings to your dampening cunt like a second skin— desire trickling onto the gusset. your whimper is drowned out by the terrible music the driver is currently playing when his small finger grazes over your slit, featherlight.

"so wet already? i've barely even touched ya, love." again with the cunt-clenching nicknames. he has no business purring them out like that. "i can smell your sweet pussy from here. you really must be achin' for it." of course the time he chooses to be vocal, it's to spew filth. "don't worry, i'll treat ya good."

somehow, you actually manage to choke out a response. "i'm sure. johnny-" you hiss through clenched teeth when he slips under your knickers, a finger brushing along your slick entrance, "said you had him walking side to side once." you buck your hips, seeking the friction you need, but it only makes him pull away a bit; how unsurprisingly cruel.

"only because he was bein' a brat. you're not a brat though, are ya? gonna be good f'me?" your tongue is heavy in your mouth, words lodged in your throat— all you can give him is a slight nod. "i expect verbal answers. i'd hate to spank your arse raw. how would ya sit down after?"

the idea of being bent over his strong thighs, face pressed into his couch as his firm hand takes you into the needy subspace you crave is too much, or maybe not enough because you're tucking your face into the side of his neck in an instant. "please," you warble, unsure of what you're even begging for.

he curls his finger, slipping between your lips, and when he finally brushes your clit— a fleeting, tantalizing touch— your eyes threaten to roll into the back of your head. "needy little thing. i bet there's a damp spot right where you're sittin'. drippin' all over my fingers—" your breath is ripped from your lungs when he abruptly pulls his hand out and away, the sodden material of your knickers snapping against your heated skin. you're about to snarl out a vicious what the fuck, but the once-blurred scenery outside sharpens into focus.

the driver parks and looks at you from the rearview mirror. "we're here." you mumble a muted thank you, stepping out with quivering legs and a drenched cunt. a crisp breeze dances across your skin, a refreshing contrast to the stifling heat from inside the car.

as soon as the car drives off, you're hoisted onto a broad shoulder. the world tilts, and you fist the back of simon's shirt for stability. "highly unnecessary. i can wa—" you let out a squeak when he slaps the back of your thigh, the sharp bite of it sending a jolt straight to your throbbing center.

"hush."

you sputter indignantly as you hold on tighter, breaths coming out in short gasps, syncing with each step. "i beg your pardon?"

you yelp when he gives you another slap, this time closer to your cunt. "then beg." you're rendered speechless.

wow. maybe you've actually bitten off more than you can chew.

the wet cement under you is a blur, the texture lost in the rush of his movements until he comes to a stop, and you hear a familiar jingle of keys. he bursts through the door, the hinges groaning in protest, and you're staggeringly planted on both feet.

"nice place." a lie. it looks unlived in— brand spanking new. you vaguely hear the lock behind you as you take in your surroundings. a perfect, leather couch, not a crease in sight. the rug under it is pristine and bland, a cream color that matches the rest of his flat. impersonal. not an ounce of real personality anywhere. you begin shrugging off his jacket when you're suddenly pressed against the cold door, simon bent at the knees in front of you, his dark eyes— sharp as blades— lock onto yours.

"gonna beg?"

the fire in your lower belly reignites at the sight of his unmasked face. ash-brown hair in a simple crew cut, thick brows with the right one bisected by a pink, gnarled scar. slightly crooked nose, broken one too many times, and thin, pale lips. a countenance to match his rugged personality.

you're pulled out of your thoughts when he licks a hot stripe over your covered slit and you mewl at the sensation. "i asked you a question."

the words rush out of your mouth before you can even think of stopping them. "yes, yes! please, god, i don't- just- please let me come! i-" his thumbs hook into the waistband of your knickers and tug them down slowly, strings of arousal sticking to the gusset, smearing on your inner thighs.

"alrigh', since ya begged so prettily." your vision goes white when he throws one leg over his shoulder, and his slick tongue slides through your folds, the tip flicking your clit lightly. he laps at your cunt like it drips milk and honey— nourishing and sweet. simon groans into you, the sound crawling up your vertebrae and into the base of your skull.

he begins to draw lazy circles around your pearl, every swirl of his tongue has your back bowing as if winding it, inching you closer to the precipice. your toes curl in your shoes, hands finding purchase in his coarse hair, knuckles staining white as you start the feel the familiar tightening in your lower belly.

and then he pushes one thick finger into you, down to the scarred knuckle, and crooks it. the squelching noise your dripping pussy makes when he presses on the tiny patch of rough skin inside is loud and obscene; practically echoing off the dull, ivory walls of his flat.

"gonna come f'me? make a mess all over my hand?" simon adds another finger, a slight burn nipping at the heels of the pleasure coiling under your navel.

"c'mon. give it to me, pet." his lips encircle your clit, giving it a light suckle and it's—

the coil snaps, a sudden release of tension. it is violent and oh, so exquisite. white noise in your head, your ears, coursing through your veins. it prickles, it stings; it's pleasure and pain. your soul sinks back into your body— like a feather returning to its nest— and you blink, momentarily unbalanced.

"ya with me?"

you breathe deep— the taste of salt in the air, the scent of sweat-slick skin, your heart pulsing with life. "yes. i'm here." the man took you to the stars and laid you on them. jesus.

"good." the room spins, and you're weightless, nestled in his arms. it'd seem innocent if it wasn't for the stickiness in between your thighs, or the prominent bulge in his jeans occasionally pressing into your arse.

simon kicks a door open, knob bouncing off the wall with a crack, and quickly places you on the bed before tugging his shirt off. the belt and jeans come off next, and—

"you don't wear pants." why would he let that monstrosity just hang like that?

"good observation. is water still wet?" he asks, tonelessly. you narrow your eyes at him, pushing your tongue against the back of your teeth.

"fuck me for having eyes and using them as intended, i guess," you mumble under your breath. he grabs you by the ankle and tugs the skirt off, then your shoes, "ouch, i like my feet where they are, thank you," and literally rips your shirt in half. "you'll be giving me on of yours before i leave as recompense."

he holds himself up with his arms over you, your thighs burning as they cradle his hips.

his cock is a heavy, hot weight on your stomach— ruddy, leaking tip right under your navel. you're not small by any means, but he's going to tear you in half. there's no surviving such an onslaught. he's not just leaving you with a limp, he's going to turn your two smaller holes into one big one.

he tears into a golden wrapper with his teeth, and expertly rolls the condom on. simon lowers down to his elbows and nudges your jaw with his nose. "i'll stop the moment ya call it. tap on me if you're feelin' overwhelmed."

that's the sweetest thing anyone's ever said to you, and the fact that it comes from a massive creep who stares at people like they owe him money has you a bit dumbstruck.

his stubble grazes the side of your neck as he glides his cock along your slick folds; once, thrice, until the head catches on your swollen entrance. simon pushes in slow, agonizingly slow— you don't know if it's better or worse because you feel every devastating inch of his length as it forcibly wrenches your walls apart.

your senses are solely focused on him: his body enveloping yours completely. his breath, sweetened like malt, wafts gently across your skin. his thick waist that you can't fully wrap your legs around. everything about him is big— his physicality, his presence, his cock.

"take a deep breath for me, pet. feel everythin' i'm givin' you."

your lungs expand as you do, and when you exhale, your muscles slacken. rapturous pleasure begins to bleed through the delicate membrane that separates it from the bite of pain, until boundaries are blurred and—

and he sinks into you like a rock breaking the surface tension of still water, bottoming out in one, smooth stroke. you can't help the mewl that falls from your lips nor the way your walls clamp down around him.

"fuck, there it is. so bloody tight, this greedy cunt is takin' my cock like it was made for me."

there isn't a single coherent thought in your head and you're glad for it. finally, someone to fuck you stupid.

simon gives you an experimental thrust, dragging his length along every single one of your nerves, and then another— desire overflowing from where he stuffs you to the very brim. "good. ready?"

he takes your tiny nod as an answer this time and begins to fuck you in earnest. it takes everything in you to not black out from how perfect it felt.

simon puts his weight behind every thrust, a steady pull out, and a spine-jarring push in. you can feel him deep in your stomach, a delicious pinch of discomfort each time he presses against the plug of your womb.

"so fuckin' wet, your cunt's droolin' all over me." he hooks an arm under your left leg and lifts, the angle he's put you in tittering dangerously on the tightrope of rapture and ache.

it's so good, so fucking good, your slick walls fluttering as he carves himself into you, your soul, your cunt when you feel a tight snap inside.

simon pulls out in an instant, taking your breath with him as he does. you look down at his cock and notice that—

"the condom broke. i've got another in the drawer, gimme a sec."

there is some weird thing that lodges in place somewhere deep in your sternum when you realize that he's been nothing but considerate and attentive to you since he brought you home and hasn't fussed over anything once. it's an extremely low bar, you are aware. rewarding what should be the bare fucking minimum is sad, but you're not completely altruistic in your motives anyway. you want to feel his bare cock inside as he rearranges your insides.

"no!" he quickly turns to look at you, "no. it's okay. i'm clean and i'm also on the pill. if that's okay with you, of course."

a man his stature should not move as fast as he just did, blinking from one side of the room to the other. he quickly throws both of your legs over his shoulders, heels resting on his back when he sinks back in, this time letting out a guttural groan as he does.

you can feel the ridge of his flared head, the warmth of his cock seeping into your tender walls— a new level of intimacy. he fucks you with fervor now, a precise snap of his hips that has your teeth clacking with every thrust.

your climax takes you by complete surprise, crashing into you like waves on a rocky, jagged shore. burst after burst of blinding pleasure threatens to consume you whole, and when your limbs are loose and syrupy— body limp— only then do you realize that he came just as fast. thick white ropes of viscous spend cover your stomach and trail down to your abused cunt.

your hamstrings already hurt with delayed onset muscle soreness. you might actually need a wheelchair to go back home.

(thank god your hips held out, and no, you don't care that it's essentially sacrilegious of you to even think that.)

his breathing comes out in ragged bursts, beads of sweat dripping onto the valley of your breasts.

and he's back to the fucking staring. "simon."

"pet."

"please stop looking at me like that."

he huffs and dips his head to flick your hardened nipple with his tongue, making you hiss with over sensitivity.

"make me."

-

as dawn breaks, the world begins to stir awake. hues of pale pink stain the sky, the first blush of morning. light and shadow begin to blend in the bedroom.

your phone vibrates under the pillow, simon's arm tightening around your soft waist at the buzzing sound. his lips press a light kiss on the sensitive skin by your ear, and his large hand begins to weave its way downward, pads of his fingers gathering the evidence of last night (or early morning) and gently parts your folds, brushing light strokes on your clit.

when he places your leg around his hip and sinks into you from behind, your phone buzzes again-- alone and forgotten.

good morning!!! i expect a full, detailed report by lunch or so help you god.

sent 5:30 am

about time you got laid, you're not you when you're horny.

sent 5:49 am

[star-sim]

hopeless ☆ heeseung lee

☆ horrendously down bad! heeseung x fem! reader ☆ summary: absolutely no one would have expected the dark, brooding, and rough heeseung lee to be hopelessly head over heels in love with the sweet, oblivious you. especially you. even with the help of practically the entire year, it's almost pathetic the way heeseung struggles to utter three, simple words to you, let alone look you in the eye. ☆ genre: fluff!!! pining, SUPER WHIPPED HEESEUNG, high school! au, non-idol! au, a lot of 01 liner idols + the rest of enha make appearances, btw this follows the asian school system, SO MUCH FLIRTING OMG, heeseung is kinda pathetic and awk ☆ warning(s)? swearing and dumb characters lol, there is one SA scene, but it is not graphic + very minor violence ☆ word count: 10.8k ☆ this is extremely based off of "danger" by bts, especially the lyric "you're cute, and i'm pathetic" lol enjoy!

Heeseung Lee was stressed. 

No. He was distraught. 

Distraught about how fucking cute you looked today.

Ever since he was a kid, Heeseung loved Halloween, because he loved Trick-or-Treating with his older brother and cousins. However now, at the age of seventeen, he found himself resenting it. Not because there was any issue with the holiday, but because today was Halloween. 

From across the classroom, Heeseung found himself staring, all dazed and empty-headed, at you, who was clad in your cute bunny costume. The way the fluffy, white ears stuck out from the top of your head, as well as the fluffy white coat draped around your shoulders, made you look so soft and cozy and adorable. The way your nose crinkled as you laughed with your friends, sweet sounds coming from your lips as you threw your head back. 

Were you real? How could anyone be so goddamn beautiful and not be an actual angel sent from above? What country did Heeseung save in his past life in order to get to be in your presence in this life?

"Dude, you're staring," a new voice interjected.

"What?" Heeseung tore his eyes away from you. "I wasn't."

Beomgyu Choi was one of Heeseung's classmates. And, like everyone else in their year, Beomgyu knew how enamored Heeseung was with you. Other than yourself, of course.

"I'm tellin' you," Beomgyu plopped down onto his seat, which was beside Heeseung's. He slid his chair so that he would be closer to his classmate, before throwing an arm around Heeseung. "You need to make a move. Like, now."

Heeseung glanced over at his classmate. If he ignored the fake blood on Beomgyu's chin, as well as the fake, plastic vampire teeth and the god-awful Spirit Halloween Dracula cape, he'd know that Beomgyu was 100% correct. 

Everyone (and seriously, everyone) knew that Heeseung Lee had the biggest, juiciest, most obnoxious crush on you. In fact, your own friends had even tasked themselves with the job of putting in a good word for Heeseung, saying things like "Isn't he so cool?" into your ear to hopefully guide you straight into his arms. It's such a well-known fact that some of your teachers have purposefully placed you and Heeseung next to or near each other in order to help him with his more-than-obvious crush. 

With such a big, school-wide effort, it should be expected that at least some progress was made.

Wrong!

Not even a single stroke of progress has been made.

Probably because there was one teensy, weensy, eensy, problem: Heeseung was an absolute mess around you. Heeseung was known as this tall, blunt, and rough guy at school. When he wasn't silently judging everyone, he hung out with his group of friends, who had a reputation for being delinquents. Heeseung Lee, clad in his iconic black leather jacket, was intimidating, and usually had no problem speaking up for himself. But around you? Absolutely not.

If anyone thought that Heeseung Lee could easily speak to you, they were out of their goddamn mind. There were too many instances where your classmates would push Heeseung and you together, only for him to blow it because he was completely incapable of looking you in the eye without turning red. 

In Heeseung's defense, you were the most beautiful person in the world— How is he not supposed to get nervous?

"You know I can't," Heeseung murmured, clenching his fists.

Beomgyu rolled his eyes. "Whatever, Hee. What happened to banger Heeseung Lee? Heeseung Lee that beats up kids? I didn't think you'd be scared of talking to girls."

"First of all," Heeseung frowned, "I'm not a banger and I don't beat up kids. And also, I'm not scared of talking to girls."

His classmate quirked a brow. "Really?" Heeseung nodded. "Because the last time I remember, you could barely get a word out in front of [Name]."

At the sound of your name, Heeseung jerked in his seat, reaching out to grasp Beomgyu's arm. "Shhhh, don't say her name so loud!" he hissed, eyes quivering over to where you were with your friends.

"What?" Beomgyu looked around indiscreetly. "It's not a secret to anyone how you feel about [Name]."

"Shhhh! Shut up!"

When the bell rang, everyone scurried to their seat, and class began. As Beomgyu tuned out the sound of the teacher's voice, he couldn't help but notice the way Heeseung's eyes were completely glued to you. It was almost laughable, the way the boy's eyes were wide, staring at you like you were some god.

Oh god, Heeseung Lee was hopeless.

"Heeseung-hyung, are you free tomorrow?"

It was lunch time. Heeseung and his friends liked to hang around the rooftop of the school, because it was always empty. And plus, no one wanted to be where Heeseung and his friends were— they were too scary!

Heeseung looked at his younger Australian friend, Jake Sim (or Jaeyun Sim, as his official documents stated), who had just asked that question. Heeseung took a bite of the instant ramen that they bought from the vending machine.

"Yeah, why?"

"Good. Because you have a date with [Name] tomorrow."

Heeseung choked. As he coughed, his other younger friend, Sunoo Kim, let out a whine.

"Hyuuunggg!" Sunoo pouted. "Why'd you tell him?"

"It was supposed to be a surprise!" Riki Nishimura, the group's Japanese foreign exchange student friend, added, elbowing Jake in the ribs.

"Whatever," Jake crossed his arms. When Riki nudged him again, Jake opened his mouth to holler, "Jay, back me up!"

Jongseong "Jay" Park was another one of Heeseung's friends, probably the closest person to him. 

"You guys know Heeseung-hyung is going to fuck it up either way, right?" Jay said. "Remember last time?"

"Yeah," Sunghoon Park joined in. "No matter how much we prepared him, Heeseung-hyung still acted like a fucking idiot."

"I'm right here!" Heeseung shouted, still hitting his chest to dislodge the ramen that he choked on. 

Jungwon Yang, the seventh person in their friend group, put a hand on the older boy's shoulder, his lips lifting up into a half-teasing grin, revealing sharp canine teeth, "Hyung, don't listen to them. I think you'll really impress [Name] tomorrow."

It was Heeseung's turn to elbow Jungwon in the ribs.

When Heeseung finally finished coughing up a storm, his friends were already onto another topic, making plans for the next weekend.

"Hey, hey!" Heeseung grumbled. "Aren't you guys going to explain this so-called 'date with [Name]'?"

"What's there to explain?" Riki said. "You're going on a date with [Name]. End of story."

The eldest of the group's face contorted. "What are you guys even saying—"

"Well, it's not technically a date," Sunghoon said, taking a sip of his juice box. "You're, like, hanging out with [Name] though."

That still didn't answer Heeseung's question. 

"When? Where? What time?" he spluttered, eager for answers.

Jake huffed exasperatedly. "Do we have to explain to you everything? It's not that deep, man."

Jungwon rolled his eyes. "Hyung, [Name]'s friends are the presidents of the Environment and Ecology Club, and there's a social tomorrow. It's like birdhouse painting, or something. [Name] is attending to support her friend, so we signed you up, too."

"Birdhouse painting?!" Sunoo's features morphed into confusion. "I thought they were making bracelets?"

"No, I thought there were weaving baskets?" Riki frowned.

"Whatever it is, it sounds lame as hell," Jay remarked.

Jungwon rolled his eyes again, earning a punch on his arm. "Whatever it is, it'll be a great opportunity for you to talk to [Name]." 

The younger boy offered Heeseung a reassuring smile, only to receive a pensive one in return.

When classes resumed, Heeseung felt light-headed and distracted the entire time as he processed the fact that he was going to be around you tomorrow.

Oh god, he sounded like a total loser. Did the mere thought of being in your presence make him nervous? Yes, yes it did. You were just so pretty and sweet, he had no idea what to do. Poor boy, his teeth dug into his bottom lip, clammy palms pressing into the underside of his desk. His knee bounced, and there was absolutely no way that he could even make out a single word the teacher was saying.

Heeseung was going to pass out. 

"Hey, Heeseung?"

That's your voice. It was so pretty and nice on his ears. Was he in heaven? He wouldn't be surprised if your voice was the voice of an angel.

"Heeseung?"

Heeseung was convinced that he was in heaven now. What he wouldn't do to hear your voice every second of his life.

"Heeseung!" another voice interjected. That's what snapped Heeseung out of his daze. Too deep in his head, Heeseung hadn't noticed that the class period ended, and the short passing period had already begun.

At his desk stood Yunjin Huh, Minjeong "Winter" Kim, and... oh my god... you. The three of you had somewhat matching Halloween costumes: Yunjin was a gray mouse, Winter was a cat, and you were a bunny. And now that he looked at it, you all were holding a bag of candy.

While your two friends were giving him the"Are you serious?" looks, you looked at him with wide, kind eyes.

"Heeseung?" your beautiful voice said, fingers reaching into the candy bag that you were holding. "Would you like candy?"

He stared at you. You were giving out candy to everyone in class because it was Halloween... You're such an angel... What did the world do to deserve you...

Winter stepped on Heeseung's foot, snapping him out of his daze once again. The boy let out a small yelp in pain, and as the embarrassment settled in, he heard you let out a small giggle, lips raising up to show off your teeth.

Oh my god, he was going to die.

"Y-Yeah," he stammered out, cursing himself internally. Heeseung couldn't help but feel everyone in class's gaze glued to him. When you handed him a piece of candy, your hand brushed up against his. Heeseung could feel his ears becoming hot, the warmth rising to his neck.

You smiled at him, before saying in a sing-songy voice, "Happy Halloween!"

Heeseung had to force himself not to stare like an absolute fool.

He was really hopeless.

hee: jay i don't think i can do it tomorrow

It was 2AM when Heeseung texted Jay. He spent the entire night thinking about the "date" (probably the least necessary word at the moment), and he simply couldn't sleep.

Heeseung had embarrassed himself too many times in front of you. Like that one time you and him were on cleaning duty together, and he was so distracted by you that he tripped over a bucket of water. Or that one time he sat next to you for a few weeks and his shoes kept squeaking against the floor, making it look like he was farting. Or when he tried to look cool and suave in front of you at some social your friends invited him to only to rip a hole in his pants. And then what happened today... He could not embarrass himself again.

hee: like i think i'm going to die if she sits next to me tomorrow

It was only a matter of seconds when his friend texted back.

jay: you'll be fine trust

Heeseung frowned.

hee: stop lying to me

hee: you know how i am around her

jay: i believe in you

jay: like srsly

hee: that's blind faith

Jay typed for a little bit, before stopping altogether. Heeseung huffed. Did his friend just leave him on read? A few minutes later Jay sent a Wikihow article.

'How to talk to your crush,' it was aptly named. Heeseung deadpanned.

hee: are you being fr right now

jay: give [name] your sexy heeseung charm and you'll be walking off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her in no time

jay: read the article btw

How was this guy an actual person?

hee: kill yourself

jay: give her that passionate, sexy, boiling hot, hotter-than-the-sun, steaming hot heeseung that makes her just want to come up to you and give you the fattest, juiciest kiss on the mouth, i know you can do it soldier

hee: DIE

Heeseung couldn't sleep all night.

At school, the entire day was just plagued with anxiety for what was to come. It didn't help that your friends kept turning around and giving him knowing looks throughout the day. When school finally let out, Heeseung went to the classroom where the birdhouse-painting-bracelet-making-basket-weaving social would be held. His friends told him to go there the moment that school ended, but when he came, there was literally no one there.

Until someone yanked him into the classroom.

"Hey!-" he yelped, before the door slammed. In front of him stood two people that he recognized: Sumin Bae and Sieun Park, two of your friends who also coincidentally were the co-presidents of the Environment and Ecology club.

Sumin cocked a brow at him, crossing her arms. "I hope you're not as hopeless as everyone says you are."

Heeseung opened his mouth to respond, but Sieun cut him off.

"Ugh, that doesn't matter," she pinched her nose-bridge. "We told [Name] to sit near the front, so you better sit there, too."

"Right-" 

Sumin cut him off, too.

"[Name]'s favorite color is pink, and her favorite Sanrio character is Keroppi," Sumin asserted. "And she really likes things that are cute, so like fruit patterns, hearts, stars, yada yada."

Heeseung blinked at them. "And this is relevant how...?"

Sumin and Sieun shared a look.

"You are completely hopeless."

As it turned out, they were giving him details about design-elements that you liked, so that Heeseung could somehow impress you with his birdhouse painting abilities (Jungwon was right, it was birdhouse painting). After info-dumping on him, they kicked him out of the classroom to actually prepare for the social.

As Heeseung was pushed out of the classroom, he bumped into someone. Just as he was about to say, "Watch where you're going," he realized that it was you. 

"Oh, hi, Heeseung!" you greet him cheerfully, your eyes pressing into thin slits as you smile. 

Quick! What does he do? "Hi... [Name]."

"Are you here for the social, too?" The way your eyes gazed at him made him feel shy already.

"Y-Yeah...."

"I didn't know you were interested in the Environment and Ecology club..." You remarked, and Heeseung panicked— Was it obvious that he was here exclusively for you?— but what you said next made him sigh in relief. "That's great! I'm so happy that I finally have someone familiar with me here!"

He's going to faint.

When the social began, you invited him to sit next to you. Heeseung felt stiff as he sat beside you, watching the way that you happily painted your small, wooden birdhouse. Heeseung wanted to start a conversation with you, but each time he thought of something to say, his voice caught in his throat. Sumin and Sieun had given him two dirty looks already, so he needed to make a move now or their efforts would be in vain.

"W-What's that?" he finally stuttered out, pointing to the glob of green on your birdhouse. 

You laugh airily, leaning closer to him so that he can see it better. "Can you guess?"

Heeseung tries to concentrate on guessing, but it's hard when you're close to him. Quick! What's green and something that you like?

"Is that... K-Keroppi?"

"Yeah!" Your face lit up, flashing him a cheeky grin. You nudged him with your elbow, raising your brows at him playfully. "Awww, Hee, you smarty pants! How'd you know?"

Hee?

OhmygodohmygodohmygodyoucalledhimHee.

You stopped laughing, pulling away from him. "Sorry, do you not like being called Hee? Beomgyu sometimes calls you that, so I thought-"

"No, I like it!" Heeseung blurted, a little louder than he wanted to, earning a few questioning looks from people around him. The boy felt abnormally warm, embarrassed at his outburst. "I-I'm okay with you calling me that..."

"Noted!" you said, before your lips curled upward. "Now... are you going to tell me how you could tell that this green blob was Keroppi?"

"Oh uhm..." Heeseung's lips were moving faster than his head, "Y-You dressed up as Keroppi last year for Halloween with Yunjin."

Almost like you were a cartoon character, you perked up at his statement. "You remember?"

Of course he did. How could he forget? You wore a cartoonishly-big red bow around your neck like Keroppi, and had a green Keroppi-style headband. You looked adorable, especially when you went around showing off a Keroppi keychain that you got at the Cinnamoroll Cafe in Hongdae to anyone that was willing to listen.

Heeseung found himself chuckling. "Of course I'd remember your massive red bow."

You stared at him for a few moments, before a bashful grin broke out on your face. You then buried your face in your hands, letting out a groan. "Ughhhh, that's so embarrassing!"

"How?"

It's going good so far, Heeseung thought. Just don't mess it up!

You pouted cutely, your bottom lip jutting out. In the light, he could see the gloss shining off of it so prettily. "My makeup was so fucked up last year, ughhh, it looked so bad."

You? Look bad? Impossible.

"What are you talking about?" Heeseung asked, his doe-like eyes scanning your embarrassed face. "I thought you looked cute."

You stared at him. It took a few pulses for Heeseung to realize what he just said. His face instantly turned three shades warmer and panic was evident in his expression.

"I-I mean— You jus—You were really—"

He shut his mouth when you began laughing. Laughing so hard that you clutched onto his knee, keeling over yourself. His cheeks burned.

You're laughing at him, aren't you? Did he fuck up?

When you noticed the sulky expression on his face, you stopped laughing.

"Sorry, Hee," you said, giving his knee a reassuring squeeze. "It's just... You look so intimidating, when you're really just a sweetheart."

If Heeseung was red before, he was quietly literally the color of a tomato. It was a wonder that the entire room’s temperature didn’t rise given the sheer amount of heat radiating off his person.

"A s-sweetheart?"

"Yeah!" you happily respond. "You're just the cutest, y'know? Like a little puppy."

As much as Heeseung wanted to die happily now that you called him cute, he needed to keep this conversation going. Sucking in a sharp breath, the boy looked at you in the eyes. "W-Well I think the same about you... [Name]."

You looked at him curiously, so he continued, his voice soft and sheepish, "I... also think that you're the cutest."

You blinked at him a few times, before the widest smile that he'd ever seen spread across your cheeks, stretching ear to ear. If only Heeseung wasn't too busy grappling with his shyness, he'd notice the way you let out a soft, bashful giggle, shaking your head and squeezing your eyes shut to keep yourself from being too visibly flustered. Slowly, with all the courage that you had left in you, you raised your hand and placed it on Heeseung's head. You ruffled his soft locks, gushing, "God, you're so cute, Heeseung!"

The rest of the social is filled with soft chatter between the two of you, but Heeseung was honestly too captivated by you to notice the time passing. With his heart on his sleeve, and a sloppily-painted birdhouse in his hands, Heeseung mentally high-fived himself.

Heeseung's friends never heard the end of it. The moment that he got home, Heeseung spammed their groupchat, giving them paragraphs and paragraphs of the events that ensued.

hee: and then she called me cute. like CUTE CUTE, not even like she was alluding it, she used the word CUTE

hee: oh my god i think i'm gonna faint

His friends don't have it in them to flame him. After all, this was progress.

Unbeknownst to him, you were feeling the same things. Everyone knew that Heeseung liked you, except yourself. You had the opposite case: you've had the biggest crush on Heeseung since middle school, but never told a single soul about it. You're a naturally expressive and sweet person, so it was so incredibly hard hiding your feelings for him. 

After all, under that handsome and brooding outer shell, you saw his softness. This past year, you've had so many miscellaneous interactions (at least, it seemed miscellaneous-- everyone but you knew that those interactions were set up) with Heeseung. At the beginning of each interaction, he'd act all mysterious, but as time passed, he'd speak so softly and slowly unravel. 

It was so, so cute. Heeseung was so cute. To say you wanted him would be an understatement. No words were sufficient to fully express the nights that you stayed awake thinking about him, or the makeup looks that you intricately practiced to impress him, or the sheer number of times that you had to hide the fact that you were staring at him.

Maybe you couldn't hide it any longer.

"Wait, what?!"

Heeseung's heart dropped to his stomach the moment he heard the words leave his friend's lips. Chenle Zhong was one of you and Heeseung's mutual friends, and according to him, someone had confessed to you via a letter today.

"Are you serious?" Heeseung asked, pulling his bottom lip into his teeth, chewing pensively. "Do you know who wrote it?"

"Nope, but I'll try to get more info on it," Chenle frowned. "Yunjin says that [Name] laughed at the letter."

When Heeseung didn't say anything, Chenle continued. "Hey, man, that could be a sign, y'know?"

When Heeseung's face morphed into a confused expression, his friend added, "Like, maybe [Name] thinks it's a joke? Maybe she doesn't care for it."

That's what Heeseung hoped for.

Later, Chenle texted him a screenshot of the love letter. To say that Heeseung was appalled would be an understatement. The letter read,

'To my dearest [Name], you're as beautiful as the plum blossoms in the spring. Your lips are soft like pillows, pillows that I would love to fall into an eternal in. I love you, I love you, I'll love you until this paper decomposes and becomes a part of the earth, and maybe then they will be able to force me to forget you. Love, your admirer.'

Heeseung immediately sent it to his groupchat.

jakey: yo who invited shakespeare???

hoon: i had a stroke reading that

sunoo: "your lips are soft like pillows" is crazyyy

hee: chenle gave me updates, apparently [name] knows who the sender is

jay: AND WHO IS THE SENDER??

hee: i don't know

hee: but minjeong says that it's someone from class 2

niki: class 2 is full of snobs

jungwon: i'm still in shock because of "i'll love you until this paper decomposes"

hoon: WHAT IF IT'S JUNGSU HYUNG

niki: oh it's SO over for you heeseung-hyung

As it turned out, it was not, in fact, Jungsu Kim from Class 2, thanks to your friends, who were quite wonderful info-brokers. But he still didn't know who it was.

Laying in bed, Heeseung felt weight on his chest. You laughed at the letter. While that could mean that it was a joke, it could also mean that you thought the person writing the letter was funny... which could mean that you liked them back. Just the mere thought of you with someone else made Heeseung frown deeply. This entire time he was worried about how to act around you, completely ignoring the fact that you yourself could be interested in someone else! God, he was so stupid.

Heeseung needed to know who it was that sent it, and more importantly, if you were romantically interested in them.

Fear makes man do crazy things.

Like walking one's crush to school.

Look, Heeseung was mulling over the situation as he walked to school, when he saw you across the street, walking in the same direction as him. In what could only be called an adrenaline-high, Heeseung ran across the street up to you.

"[Name]!" he called out.

"Heeseung?—Oh my god!"

Poor boy was breathless, flushed in the face. It took him a few moments to catch his breath. Flashing you a grin, Heeseung said, "Let's walk to school together, [Name]."

You're silent for a few moments, before you return the smile. "Of course."

The walk was silent, only the sound of early morning traffic, footsteps against the concrete sidewalk, and the occasional sniffle courtesy of you filling the cold air between the two of you. Speaking of which, your sniffles began to get louder and more frequent. Now out of adrenaline, Heeseung was back to being shy.

Clearing his throat, Heeseung forced his voice out. "Are you— Are you sick?"

You sniffled again, bringing your hand up to swipe your nose. The two of you were at an intersection now, so you pressed the pedestrian button. "No, I just get sniffly when it's cold."

That's. So. Cute. Was what Heeseung was thinking. The way you were rubbing your hands together made you look so adorable, he just wanted to put you in his pocket. 

He must have been staring at you for a while, back in his you-loving daze, because Heeseung did not notice that the streetlight changed, and it was time for the pedestrians to pass.

Not to worry!

Heeseung was completely kicked out of his daze when your smaller hand grabbed his, pulling him along the street. His eyes were glued to the two of your hands, especially where they connected. For someone sniffly, your hands were warm. He liked the way that they fit in his.

Even in the cool morning air, Heeseung suddenly felt warm all over.

You were in the middle of the sidewalk when Heeseung stopped. Feeling bold, he dropped his schoolbag, and began slipping off his thick, black, leather jacket, before draping it over your shoulders. 

When you looked up at him with those curious doe eyes, all his boldness went away.

"Y-You're cold aren't you?" He avoided looking you in the eyes. "Just... Just take it. Y-You can give it back later... or whatever."

You giggled, slipping your arms into the sleeves.

God, you looked so cute in his jacket. Heeseung was going to melt.

And he did melt, because you began doing cute twirls to show off the jacket, posing for him.

"How do I look?" you cheekily asked, popping your leg up. 

Heeseung was speechless, his mouth just left agape. He had to force himself to speak.

"Cute..." he answered, barely audible.

A grin was growing on your face. "Sorry, I didn't hear you. How do I look?"

Heeseung squeezed his eyes shut, huffing. "I said you looked cute!"

The sight of Heeseung's pink cheeks and his cute little pout was enough for you to be satisfied. Before the boy could realize what he said, you picked up his school bag for him, shoving it into one of his hands, before snatching his free hand. You pulled him gently to continue walking, but Heeseung was frozen in place, eyes too busy on you.

"Heeeeee," you elongated your syllables. You squeezed his hand twice, tugging him again. "We can't be late to class, can we?"

Heeseung audibly gulped. "Y-Yeah. You're right.."

You guys began walking again, neither of you wanting to let each other’s hands go.

"And then she held my hand— Isn't that crazy?! She held my hand!"

"Heeseung-hyung, please, I am peeing right now."

It was the lunch period once again. As Heeseung and Sunghoon traversed the hallways to get to the stairwell, the older of two chatted about the events that morning.

"So you held her hand?" Sunghoon asked half-heartedly, barely listening. "And then what?"

Heeseung perked up. "And then we walked to class together, and then she—"

"That's cool and all," the younger friend was walking in front of him. Sunghoon turned over his shoulder. "But did you get any more information about the letter fiasco?"

Oh. 

No, Heeseung didn't.

When they reached the rooftop, his friends gently nudged him to get more information about the letter. 

"You don't want to have one of those 'too late' moments, right?" Jungwon said, chewing on his rice ball. "What if by the time you gather the courage to talk to her, [Name] is already walking off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her secret admirer?!"

"What's with you guys and walking off into the sunset..." Heeseung muttered, running a hand through his hair. 

"I'm serious, hyung!"

"I second that," Jay said lazily.

"I second that," Riki mocked in a squeaky voice, earning him a soft smack at the back of his head.

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" Heeseung asked, frustrated. "I can talk to her or her friends later, but not right now."

Jake scoffed. "What's stopping you from going back inside and talking to [Name] right now?"

The eldest boy didn't have an answer. That's true. There wasn't anything stopping Heeseung from talking to you right now. All the boys were now watching him for an answer, ready to pounce on him for being a coward.

"I don't know!" Heeseung finally said. "I've used up all of my bravery today... I don't think I have it in me to talk to her!"

His friends stared at him questioningly, until the silence was broken by Sunoo taking a loud and very obviously fake phonecall.

"Hi! Yes! Mhm. He's right here. Yeah. Mhm. Thank you!"

Sunoo hung up loudly, and looked at Heeseung with a cocked brow. "I was just on the phone with Yunjin. She says you should probably go talk to [Name]."

Heeseung looked at Sunoo incredulously, but the expectant expressions on his friends' faces made him groan.

"Fine!"

As Heeseung creeped down the school hallway, he came to the classroom that you hung out in at lunch: your homeroom. Standing outside the door, the boy took a deep breath.

Relax, it's just [Name], he had to tell himself, as if that helped at all. What was he even going to say? 

'Hey, are you dating the person that sent you that letter? If you aren't, do you want to get married to me? Haha.'

????

Just as Heeseung was about to slide the door open, he heard a very familiar laugh from inside. Of course he could recognize it. After all, it was you. 

"Yuri is so cute!" he heard you giggle. "She wrote me that little letter as a joke, but I think I'm actually in love with her."

In.

Love.

With.

Her.

"Awww, Yuri, come here and give me a kiss!"

Come.

Give.

You.

A.

Kiss.

"I'm gonna marry you, Yuri!"

Marry.

You.

Yuri.

To Heeseung, everyone was an enemy. No matter their gender or class, the moment that he heard that you got a love letter, everyone became a suspect. It all made sense now. Yuri Jo, the 'Yuri' that you were talking about and to, was from Class 2. He knew that you and her were friends, but he didn't know that you were romantically interested in her. 

Jungwon was right. Now you were going to walk off into the sunset hand-in-hand with her!

hee: guys what if [name] is already taken :(

jakey: what are you on about this time

There was something scary about a 6-feet tall guy mulling around and sulking all day, so luckily no one got in Heeseung's way as he brooded. Unfortunately, he felt his heart hurt whenever he looked at you. Almost cartoonishly, he'd turn away, close his eyes in dramatic pain, and pout. Although he acted a little bit theatrical, it was no doubt that Heeseung felt sad. He really thought he had a chance with you, and now he felt stupid.

Except, he was stupid.

But for a different reason.

"Jesus Christ, you're actually hopeless, Heeseung."

After school, your friends cornered him, somewhere where you wouldn't see. His friends were somehow in close communication with your friends.

"I can't believe you thought me and [Name] were actually dating!"

Heeseung scowled, crossing his arms over his chest, as he leaned against a locker. Before him stood Yunjin, Winter, Yuri, along with a few other of your friends, Hitomi and Minju. 

"I don't know!" Heeseung huffed. "Everyone is an enemy to me—” he glanced at Yuri— “Including Yuri.”

Yunjin scoffed in disbelief. "You're insane."

Soooo... You weren't in any romantic relationship with anyone. Yuri sent you that letter as a joke, and you were just really close to her. Good.

"I don't know how I feel about this guy getting with our [Name]," Winter muttered to Hitomi and Minju, but loud enough for Heeseung to hear.

"Hey!"

"I know, he's a total dumbass," Minju grumbled back.

"Dude, I'm right here!"

Hitomi rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Well, are you free on Friday after school?"

"Yeah, why?" They always asked Heeseung that question when they had some crazy plan up their sleeve. Not like he was any better.

"Wellll," Hitomi began in a sing-songy voice. "[Name] really wants to go to that Cinnamoroll Sweet Cafe in Hongdae on Friday, but none of us are available."

Heeseung nodded slowly. 

"I think it'd be a good way for you to get closer to her, dontcha think?"

And that's how Heeseung scored his first (unofficial) date with you

When your friends told you that Heeseung would accompany you to Hongdae, you almost jumped for joy. Almost. Friday couldn't come any faster. The plan was that you'd meet Heeseung at the train station at 4:30PM, meaning that you had a bit of time to change and get ready. You didn't want to get too ahead of yourself and call it a date, but oh boy did you want to.

What were you going to wear? What if you were too formal? Should you go for a casual look or something more put-together? You needed to impress him!

When Friday came, you practically ran home to get ready. You perfected your makeup, and put on your prettiest outfit. Spraying yourself with your signature perfume, you looked in the mirror. Hopefully, he'll like how you look. 

At the corner of your eye, you spot a black, leather jacket. His black, leather jacket. Without even thinking, you slinked toward it, slipping into the jacket. It smelled like him, the faint scent of his cologne lingering on the leather.

With a final glance in the mirror, you left for the train station.

On the other hand, to say that Heeseung was nervous for the date was an understatement. His heart was about to fall out of chest. He changed into something more casual, made sure to brush out his disheveled hair, and reapplied his cologne. He came to the train station 20 minutes early, just in case something went terribly wrong. He glanced at his phone. For the date, he managed to get a hold of your number, for “communication purposes.” He’d wanted to text you all week, but didn’t have the courage to.

“Hee?” your soft voice calling his name got his attention. Behold, you standing there before him, all dolled up and pretty. This must be the sight he’ll see when he enters heaven, he thought. 

“Hi,” he said, his eyes glazing over your face. You were so pretty. Did you dress up for him? He didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but the idea that you wanted to look good for him made Heeseung’s heart skip a beat. “You look…”

He didn’t mean to say that. You smile bashfully. “I look…?”

“So pretty,” Heeseung breathed. “You look so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you smile. Your fingers reach for the hem of his shirt, playing with it, which sends his heart racing. “Well, I think you look handsome, Hee.”

“Th-Thanks.”

The two of you stare into each other’s eyes for a few moments, and Heeseung swears that you’re looking at his lips. You spoke up, breaking the silence. “You notice anything about me?”

Heeseung grasped the collar of his jacket gently with both hands. “My jacket.”

“I was going to give it back to you earlier,” you begin, eyes trained on his lips, “But I think I’ll keep it for today, yeah? Since I look so pretty in it.”

“Oh fuck,” Heeseung cursed under his breath, loud enough for you to hear it and giggle. “Yeah, you can keep it for as long as you want.”

“As long as I want?” you purred, taking a step closer to him. Although it wasn’t clear to anyone else, you were a mess inside. Your heart was palpitating so hard that you could hear it in your ears. Your throat felt dry, and your hands were shaking with mere anxiety and excitement. “What about forever?”

Heeseung cracked a grin. “Do whatever you want. You’re pretty.”

If it wasn’t for the train announcement, you thought you would have kissed his pretty lips right then and there. Taking Heeseung’s hand, you led him to your train cart. 

“Let’s go, Hee.”

The train is much more packed than you expected, but it was the beginning of the weekend after all. The trip from Gyeonggi Province to Hongdae should take no less than an hour. Unfortunately, because of the amount of people in the train, you and Heeseung had to stand for the majority of the time. It should have been uncomfortable, but it simply wasn't. Because you were with Heeseung.

Standing only a few inches away from the boy, your chests almost pressed against each other. You could feel his breath fan your cheeks. The both of you held onto the pole, hands barely brushing against each other when the cart shook against the rails. 

At some point, the shaking was a lot more aggressive than it had previously been. Instinctively, your hand reached for his broad shoulders for stability. Likewise, Heeseung reached for your waist, holding you in place. You and Heeseung shared a long, drawn-out look, eyes getting lost in one another's, before you both avert your gazes shyly, muttering, "sorry." Yet, neither of you moved your hands from their newfound positions.

As minutes passed on the train, your eyes were glued to Heeseung, at least when he wasn't watching. 

You loved the reddish blush that naturally decorated his under-eyes, and the natural corally red at tinted the tip of his ears. His glossy eyes and heart-shaped lips had to be your favorite feature of his, if not for his large, yet delicate hands, so gentle and soft.

You were deep in thought when you suddenly felt a hand creeping on your leg. Nimble fingers from behind, brushing up against the hem of your dress. From the corner of your eye, you saw an older man. He looked unkempt and scruffy, like a delinquent– but nothing like Heeseung. Heeseung looked much better than him.

The man reeked of cigarettes and musk. A nasty grin spread across his face as he peered down at your exposed legs. His hands creeped toward them again, now slightly pushing your dress up. Your teeth sunk into your bottom lip, your entire body stiffening. Your heart began to pound in your chest, your cheeks and skin feeling hot. 

Panic overtook your system. Your once soft breaths became much shorter and quicker, inhaling and exhaling shallow air.

You’ve never been in a situation like this; you’d  never wished, thought, or even considered something like this happening to you– why would you? You had no idea what to do, and were not at all prepared for this. The train was packed to the brim, this man was much bigger and stronger than you, and you did not know how to fight.

The hand moved past your skirt, now under it and directly in contact with your skin. The hand felt dirty, brushing against you. A small frantic whimper escaped your lips when the man’s hand squeezed your bare thigh. It was a small sound, barely audible in the vast bustle of the subway. However, someone did hear it.

Heeseung, doe-eyed and lost in his own world, immediately darted his eyes over to you the moment he heard a sound of discomfort. 

When your eyes met, you could only signal helplessly. Your gaze was wide, pupils dilated, with fear and panic. Heeseung’s eyes narrowed, staring into your eyes for a moment before analyzing your expression. The way you were extremely tense and overwrought casted a sense of suspicion in his head, and your eyes that were seemingly pleading him made him think.

Help, your eyes said.

Heeseung’s dark eyes flickered from your face, to your entire body language, and back to your face, before he spotted a few, foreign fingers creeping around your leg area.

Your shifty eyes kept moving from Heeseung’s to the side, but now that he looked at it, it was like they were pointing behind you. And lo and behold, behind you was a musky pervert, who was shamelessly touching you.

“[Name]…” he whispered. His fists clenched, teeth gritting. He sucked in a deep breath, feeling anger build up in his stomach. You whimpered again in response. He brought a hand to ghost over your shoulder, pushing you very, very, gently to the side. “Move.”

He wound up his fist and sent the hardest punch he could muster to the man square in the jaw.

The man lurched back immediately, his hand moving far, far, away from you. A groan left his lips, his head being thrown back in pain. The man’s fall had pushed a few other people down as well. Other bystanders watched on in shock. Some took out their phones to record and take pictures, others to tell their friends.

You just stood still, leaning into Heeseung, whose fist was a faint red color. With a very careful hand, he brushed the lifted hem of your dress down, which had been messed with earlier.

The man quickly got up once he noticed the new and tense silence over the subway cart.

“Hey!” he shouted, pushing himself up from his downtrodden position. “You little punk, who the fuck do you think you-”

The train announcer called for the stop. Heeseung, ignoring the man, took your arm, pulling you out the door. Before he himself left, Heeseung landed a kick to the man’s crotch, muttering, “Fucking bastard.”

"W-Wait, Hee-!"

Heeseung was silent as the train doors opened, only pulling you along with him. When the two of you were far from the train, he finally stopped, turning to you.

"Are you okay?" was all he asked. You shifted uncomfortably at the thought of what happened earlier.

"Y-Yeah..." you played with the hem of his jacket sheepishly. "Thanks for what you did back there."

Heeseung jolted up at the mention. He didn't love using violence, despite his 'delinquent' reputation, especially in front of you. His hands joined yours at the hem of his jacket, shyly brushing up against yours. 

"Next time," he began, beginning to play with the zipper, "I'll fight every person on that train so that you can sit."

You smiled softly. "You don't have to do that, Hee."

Heeseung slowly zipped up his jacket on you, meeting your eyes, before straightening out your collar. 

"But I want to," he breathed. You gazed at him. His hands were still on the collar of the jacket, close to your face. You noticed the red smudges on his knuckles from punching the man on the train. You took that hand, opening it up, and nuzzling your cheek into it. You took his other hand. To Heeseung's surprise, you pressed soft kisses on his knuckles, rubbing them with your thumb.

"What are you..." his breath hitched when your eyes flickered to his, holding steady eye-contact. 

You pressed one last kiss on his palm. "Thank you, Hee. Really."

"Of course, [Name]," he finally whispered. "Anything for you."

And so, your first date with Heeseung began.

The sweet scent of cinnamon and pastries hit your noses the moment you guys stepped into the Cinnamoroll Cafe. When you were seated, you took a look at the menu. So far, the date was going smoothly. Other than the run-in at the beginning, the chemistry between the two of you was sparking. The conversation was flowing, and if that already wasn't a dream come true, you kept touching Heeseung. On your end, you were practically vibrating in your seat with the sheer amount of excitement you had bubbling in you. You couldn't believe you were on a date with the Heeseung Lee sharing a strawberry banana parfait. 

"Hee," you said, motioning him to come closer to you. He did, so you cupped his cheek, bringing your thumb up to wipe a stray piece of the parfait from his cheek. 

"Oh-" Heeseung's face reddened. How embarrassing! Did you think he was a slob now? You only giggled, bringing both hands up to hold his face. You squished the boy's cheeks, laughing at the way his brows cutely crashed into each other.

"You're so cute, Hee," you said, playing with his cheeks. "The cutest."

That's all you, he thought. You're going to drive him crazy.

Or, at least he thought he thought.

Did he just say that out loud? Heeseung groaned when you threw your head back laughing, hiding his own face in your palms. You chuckled.

Feeling bold, you cupped his cheeks again. You leaned closer, holding his face close to yours. You kissed a soft and chaste kiss on his nose. You couldn't help the heat that rose to your cheeks as the boy flopped over the table, hiding his face in his arms. You ran your fingers through his hair comfortingly, cooing at his cuteness.

"You can't do this to me," Heeseung murmured.

You laughed. It wouldn't hurt to tease him a little more, right? You leaned down, giving the boy another kiss. This time, though, you kissed the top of his head.

"Hee, baby, you're just the cutest, you know that right?"

Heeseung combusted.

After the Cafe, Heeseung and you walked around the Hongdae Festival Street. By now, it was beginning to get darker outside, the air cooling down. It was cold, but to Heeseung, it was perfect, because now he had an excuse to hold your hand. As the two of you walked and talked, you enjoyed the sight of the lights and bustling street. 

Suddenly, a new voice interrupted the two of you's conversation. Turning around, you saw two guys who looked around your age. They were holding a camera and a microphone.

"Hi!" they said, smiling. "We're interviewing couples in Hongdae, would you guys like to be in it? We’ll blur your faces."

Heeseung glanced your joined hands, then back at the two guys, then back at your hands, "O-Oh, we're not a coupl—"

You cut him off. "Of course, we'd love to!"

You flashed Heeseung a grin, squeezing his hand twice, almost as if to say, 'Just go with it.' His ears began to burn, his neck prickling with warmth, before clearing his throat. "Y-Yeah..." he squeezed your hand, "We'd love to."

The two guys cheered, turning on their camera. "All right, first question. How did you guys meet?"

"We went to middle school together," you were quick to answer. "I thought he was really cute, but we didn't start talking until this year."

You didn't know what the fuck you were saying. Was it risky to be so truthful for an internet interview, right in front of your long-time crush? Absolutely. But your heart was pounding so hard in your chest, simply waiting for Heeseung's response.

On the other hand, Heeseung's mind was in complete shambles. Were you telling the truth? The way you answered so smoothly with absolutely no hesitation made it almost seem natural.

"And you?" the interviewer asked. "What did you think about her when you first met?"

"I—" Heeseung's breath hitched. "I thought she was the most beautiful person I'd ever seen."

The way you glanced at him made Heeseung's heart feel like it was about to fall out. "I.. I still think that."

Your expression was unreadable, your lips pressing into a thin line. Then, a huge smile broke out on your face.

"Awww, Heeeee! I didn't know you thought about me like that!" You squeezed his hand again, and he squeezed it back.

"How long have you guys been together?" the interviewer asked.

"We just started dating!" You answered enthusiastically, a weird, surprised sound coming from Heeseung.

The rest of the interview went smoothly, with you mostly answering the questions. You quietly thanked the interviewers, and you and Heeseung were on your way.

Your words kept ringing in Heeseung's head.

Especially your answer to the question, "Why did you like him?"

You answered, "Because he's so perfect."

Heeseung? Perfect? He couldn't believe his ears! Were you telling the truth?

A calm silence fell over you and Heeseung as you walked the bustling streets of Hongdae. That question lingered in his mind, and before he knew it, his mouth was moving faster than his mind.

"Did you mean anything you said?"

His voice seemed to reverberate against the night air, ringing in his ears. You chewed on your lip. Then, you sucked in a sharp breath.

"Of course, Hee," you finally answered. "If it's you, I mean everything."

Heeseung sucked his bottom lip into his teeth, biting down so hard he drew blood. Once again, his hands found home on the hem of his jacket draped over you. 

"Good." He couldn't meet your eyes, not with the knowledge that you meant everything you said. He forced his attention onto the hem of the leather jacket that you were wearing, too shy to look at you. 

Heeseung only looked up when he felt your thumb pressing against his lip, eyes widening.

"Don't bite your lip too hard, Hee," you said, a smile in your voice. You thumb swiped against his lip, wiping off the small blotch of blood on it. "You'll bleed, and I'll have to kiss it better."

Heeseung's tongue darted out to swipe over his bleeding lip, brushing against your thumb. "What if I want you to kiss it better?"

"Well, then you better not keep me waiting."

His eyes flickered to your lips. He wanted to kiss them so bad. They looked so soft. What would they taste like? You liked strawberries— maybe they'd taste like that. When he didn't say or do anything, you changed the topic, unable to hide the disappointment in your face.

"Did you mean it?" You asked. "When you said that I was the most beautiful person you'd ever seen?"

"Oh my god, yes," Heeseung said under his breath, eyes still trained on your lips. "Always."

Another silence fell of you two, simply getting lost in each other's eyes. Maybe it was something in the Hongdae air, but Heeseung felt brave. His hand slithered to your waist, bringing you closer to him. When you slid your hands up his chest, resting them on his shoulders, Heeseung audibly gulped. Your faces inched closer and closer, until you could feel his breath against your cheek. You wanted to lean in and close the gap so bad. And you could tell that he wanted to, too.

Just as you were about to, however, the sound of a car honking and tires screeching interrupted you. Heeseung instinctively pulled away, his head whipping around to look at the commotion.

Oh hell no.

You were not going to let that stop you.

You snatched Heeseung's hand, before pulling him with you. You don't know how much you ran, or for how long, but you ran and ran until you found an empty alleyway.

You pushed him against the hard, concrete wall, a bit harsher than you expected too. Holding him by his shoulders, you put all your weight on him, caging him against the wall.

"You'd let me kiss you, right?" you rasped, out of breath.

Heeseung, also breathless, stared at you, lips parted. 

"I thought I already said," he breathed, "Do whatever you want. You're pretty."

With that, you crashed your lips onto his. His lips were soft, a little chapped. It felt so surreal. The scent of his cologne made you feel dizzy. When you pulled away, it was evident that he was feeling the same as you were. 

It was a chaste kiss, but the tension was so thick in the air. Somehow, that made it even more intimate.

"Wow..." was all Heeseung could utter. Under the moonlight, with you pressed up against him, you looked so goddamn pretty. Your face was illuminated with the pale light, making you look like an angel. Was he in heaven? Did he die yet? He wouldn't mind if he died right then and there, now that you (you!) kissed him. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me, [Name]."

"But you'd like it, right? Because I'm so pretty." The teasing tone in your voice would normally make Heeseung melt, but all he could do was grin. 

"You know I would."

The rest of the night, you and Heeseung don't kiss anymore. Not because you guys didn't want to kiss, but because the adrenaline wore off, and now the both of you were shy. It was almost comical, the way both of you completely reverted back to your bashful and sheepish selves, barely able to make eye-contact with each other.

"Thank you for tonight, Hee," you hummed, as you and Heeseung walked to the train station, hand-in-hand. "I had a lot of fun."

He scanned your face. The slight curve on your lips (oh god, your lips, the way the corner of your lip had a smudge of lipstick from kissing him earlier —how badly he wanted to kiss them again) was contagious. "Of course. I had a lot of fun, too."

The train ride back was quiet. You eventually began dozing off, resting your head on his shoulder.

"You did what?!" was the collective reaction of both you and Heeseung's friends. After that Friday together, you called together all of your friends to your house, to spill the beans. Likewise, Heeseung forced every single one of his friends into his living room.

"Ouuu, you little flirt!" Yunjin exclaimed. Currently, Yunjin, Winter, Hitomi, Yuri, and Minju were seated on your bedroom floor, while you dramatically flopped around on your bed. 

It was now that you explained to your friends your long-time crush on Heeseung, much to their pleasant surprise.

"And then what happened?" Minju asked, filing her finger-nails. "Did you profess your undying love for him?"

You groaned into your pillow. "I can't!"

"Why not?" Winter quirked a brow. "You guys literally kissed."

You let out another groan. "What if he doesn't like me like that?"

Your friends deadpanned.

Heeseung Lee didn't like you. He loved you. They would know better than anyone.

"[Name], honey, you're overthinking it," Yuri nudged you with her foot. "He gave you his jacket. I think that says enough."

"Well, what if I'm just getting ahead of myself and he's just being nice?"

"Girl..."

Heeseung had a similar reaction.

All of his friends stared at him like he just punched their grandmothers.

"You can't be serious right now, hyung..." Sunghoon said, pinching his nose-bridge.

All of his friends were piled onto one couch, while Heeseung laid out on the one across from them, almost like they were in a therapy session. 

"What if she just thinks I'm a good friend?" Heeseung used his hands to speak, theatrically moving them.

"What makes you think that?" Sunoo asked incredulously. 

Heeseung groaned. "[Name] tells Yuri Jo that she wants to marry her and they're good friends."

"Okay, and?"

"Well," Heeseung huffed. "What if [Name] kissed me because she sees me the same way that she sees Yuri?"

"Well, I'm good friends with Jungwon-hyung and I don't kiss him," Riki said matter-of-factly.

"Right..." Jungwon nodded his head slowly. "Hyung, do you really think a good friend would pin you against a wall and kiss you?"

"Do you think a good friend would kiss you three times and then call you cute like a bajillion other times?!" Jake chimed in.

"Let alone choose to keep your jacket?!" Jay sounded tired.

Heeseung clasped his hands together, thinking for a few moments.

"Yes."

All of his friends groaned in defeat.

"You're hopeless."

After a lot of urging and cross-communication between friend-groups, both of your friends managed to convince both you and Heeseung to confess to each other the next Monday.

"What if I faint the moment she says my name?" Heeseung catastrophized to Jay in the school bathroom. 

"Uh, I doubt that, hyung."

Heeseung texted you to meet him under the stairwell, and that was when he was going to confess. On your end, the moment that he texted that, you decided that you'd confess to him then.

When the time came, Heeseung headed out to the stairwell. His hands were clammy, and even when he wiped him on his uniform pants, he couldn't stop the trembling of his hands. What if everyone was instilling false hope in him? Gosh, Heeseung thought he was going to throw up. His stomach was churning, he was going to collapse if he saw you right now—

"Hee?" Your voice broke him out of his internal spiral. Seemingly, there was a halo around you, a light so bright that Heeseung was blinded.

"H-Hi," he stammered, straightening out his posture and clearing his throat.

Your hands were clasped behind your back, leaning forward toward him. "You wanted to talk to me, yeah?"

Heeseung couldn't bring himself to meet your gaze, his shoes suddenly becoming interesting. "Y-Yeah..."

The hallway where the stairwell was located was beginning to feel stuffy. Heeseung had never felt so nervous in his life. He was light-headed, barely able to even balance himself.

"Hee," you reached out to touch his arm, noticing his discomfort. "Let's go outside, okay?"

Going outside should have helped him cool down, but when you shrugged on his leather jacket to combat the cool air, Heeseung realized that there was no way in hell that he was going to get through this confession without dropping dead. 

The two of you walked around the school yard for a few minutes in silence. 

How should he start this confession? He had Sunghoon and Jake write out a script for him, and he spent the entire night memorizing it, but now in your presence he couldn't remember a single word. Should he have written a letter like Yuri Jo? Heeseung couldn't possibly contain himself.

"Hee," you finally said, disrupting the silence. "I have something to tell you."

Heeseung's mind wandered to the worst case scenario. 

You're going to tell him that you're moving across the world to marry the love of your life, aren't you? You're going to say that he's a great friend and that you just got a boyfriend, right? 

No, he needed to tell you his feelings first! If he didn't now, he'd never, and he'd burst into a million pieces!

"M-Me too!" he blurted, stopping in his tracks. 

You blinked at him, then smiled.

Oh, no! It's actually happening!

He could already hear your voice saying, "Hi, Heeseung, my boyfriend just proposed to me and you're invited to the wedding."

You sucked in a breath, parting your lips to speak.

He needed to tell you first! The little demons in his head kept replaying the scene of you asking him to be your groom of honor at your wedding with the love of your life next Saturday. He could hear the marriage officiant announcing, “I now pronounce you husband and wife” at your wedding, and he imagined himself sitting in that little wedding venue holding back tears.

Oh my god, he needed to say it now, or he'll never say it ever!

"Hee, I really--"

Heeseung cut you off. He squeezed his eyes shut, hands balling into fists.

"I like you, [Name]!" he yelled.

.

.

.

You stared at him in disbelief. Or were you flustered? Heeseung couldn't tell. With too much adrenaline in his veins, Heeseung threw away all the preparation and drafted scripts he and his friends made for this very moment.

"I-I.. I like you so much, I'm scared that I'm going to explode!" Heeseung continued shouting at you. He had no idea what he was saying. All he was doing was telling you the thoughts he'd had about you all this time. "You're so, so, so pretty and I can't believe that you're an actual, real, physical, person, and you make me feel so fucking stupid, I can't take it."

Your eyes were bulging out of your head at this point, your jaw dropped. 

"I've never liked anyone like I've liked you, a-and I just wanted to tell you this before you... you go off with someone else!"

Heeseung kept his eyes shut when he was done confessing, letting out a labored breath. There was no way that he could face you. The silence that fell over the two of you made Heeseung's heart sink to the bottom of his stomach. He squeezed his eyes in embarrassment. He gripped the hem of his shirt to relieve the bubbling anxiety inside him. Gosh, he was going to puke.

After a few moments, nothing happened. You didn't say a word. Did you just leave him there standing? Of course, you did. You were probably too kind and angelic to outright reject him. He was a fool to think that he had a chance with you—

Heeseung heard footsteps, and before he could react, he felt a pair of lips on his.

His eyes shot open.

You.

Were.

Kissing.

Him.

!!!

After he confessed!

Poor boy was so stiff, eyes wide.

Did that mean you liked him back?

You pulled away.

Usually, you had a reassuring smile on your face by default. Even during times where you were embarrassed, you almost never showed it on your face.

But this time, your entire face was painted with a flustered expression. Your cute lips jutted out in a mini pout, while your eyes were glued to the ground, avoiding his gaze.

A few pulses passed.

"I... I like you, too... by the way," you murmured.

Another few pulses passed.

You. Liked. Him.

Nonononono wait, was he dreaming?

You.

YOU.

The beautiful, angelic you. 

Liked him.

Without thinking, Heeseung stepped forward, gently grabbing your face.

"You're real, right?" he breathed. When glossy eyes stared back at him, Heeseung felt warmth spread across his chest. Your lips looked so appealing right now, he was craving them again. "I'm not dreaming, yeah?"

You blinked at him a few times. The corners of your lips quirked upward.

"Why, because I'm 'so pretty that you can't believe I'm real?' " your voice had a teasing tone in it, referencing his earlier confession. Heeseung chuckled, letting go of your face so that he could slide his hands to where they belonged: around your waist.

"Just kiss me," he mumbled, looking at you with lidded eyes.

You grinned. "Gladly."

With that, you smashed your lips onto his. Instead of the chaste, soft, kisses that you shared earlier, this one was different. You shoved your tongue into Heeseung's mouth, exploring all its crevices. Poor boy was so surprised that he squeezed your waist, letting out a small whine. The feeling of you smirking against his lips gave him butterflies.

You finally pulled away breathless, but gave him no time to breathe. You grasped his chin, giving you easy control. 

"You drive me so crazy," he murmured against the shell of your ear.

You pressed a kiss at the juncture between his neck and ear. "I drive you crazy?" you cocked your brow.

"You," you muttered. You began pressing kisses down his jaw. 

“Drive.” 

Kiss.

“Me.” 

Kiss. 

“So-” 

Kiss.

"Fucking-" 

Kiss.

"Crazy."

Before you could pounce on him with more kisses, Heeseung, red in the face, flopped over you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck. He let out a cute groan.

"What, are you getting shy on me?" you teased him, running your fingers through his hair. He shook his head against your shoulder, making you coo.

"I can't believe you like me back, that's all," he mumbled, muffled by your shoulder. 

You laughed. "How? I feel like I was so obvious."

Heeseung looked up at you with pink cheeks, frowning. "You don't even want to know how hopelessly in love with you I was."

You quirked a brow at him. 

"Yeah?" You pecked his forehead. "Try me."

Heeseung let out a breathy chuckle. He attacked your lips.

"How about I show you?"

FIN.

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated :)

[thevoiceofdesertbluffs]

listening to wtnv episode 158 again i am so normal <3

[kopilot-pop]

[Tired] pt.2

- Le Sserafim x 6thMember!Reader

Summary: After a harsh criticism from one of your teachers, you started to fall into a bad habit again. You started staying overnight at the company, your knees are always bruised, and you probably shouldn’t have 3 cans of Redbull everyday… Thankfully, your bandmates have easily recognized your behaviors and decided to put it to an end.

Warnings: overworking, self-hate, depression, suicidal intentions (very minor), fainting, hospital, needles,

a/n: sorry for the long wait. This is a bit shorter than I expected, but I hope you guys still enjoy.

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

The horrendous amount of caffeine started to take a toll on you.

During one of the last practices for your comeback, Chaewon stared at you worriedly.

But you were too busy staring at your shaky hands to notice.

After chugging another can of Redbull, you finished the practice and finally turned on your phone. Several missed calls and notifications from your group’s chatroom covered your phone.

You didn’t have the energy to care.

You fell asleep on the couch in the practice room.

You have a comeback tomorrow after all.

-----

Furious is an understatement.

Chaewon is absolutely mad.

The 6 of you gathered at the studio for Music Bank on the day of the comeback. While getting ready with makeup and outfits, you could tell the girls wanted to talk to you but were too busy to.

When you all finally got up to the stage, the jittery feeling became more intense. As the second verse started your stomach started to churn, your throat closed up - you almost missed your lines-

and once again you couldn’t stop staring at your shaky hands with bloodshot eyes.

Until you froze.

Your eyes met Zuha’s. And you watched in slow motion as she ran towards you, barely catching your body before it hit the ground, and the spotlight in front of your eyes shut down.

-----

“…..ays-… y..… med…-”

You finally woke up with a pounding inside your head.

The moment you could blur out the bright light above your head, you could see Sakura’s face and feel the cool cloth on yours.

She was carefully wiping away the sweat on your head and quickly noticed your eyes open.

“Y/n! How are you feeling?”

At the same time, you could hear a loud crash on the other side of the room.

“Y/n unnie woke up?!”

“Y/N ARE YOU OKAY-”

“G..guys… calm down..”

The three younger girls ran up to you, seeming to have been lounging on the couch together.

Eunchae, with teary eyes, pulled you into a tight hug.

“Hey! She’s not stable yet!! Don’t push her around!!”

Your leader walked through the doors to pull down the three puppies from you.

“Thanks..”

After a few moments of awkward silence, Chaewon finally started.

“You passed out on stage Y/n.”

“Chaewon, don’t be too harsh.” Sakura tried her best to keep the situation calm.

“I know unnie- Y/n. You fainted due to malnutrition. When’s the last time you ate anything?”

“…I’m not sure..”

“Of course you’re not sure. The only thing you’ve been putting inside your body was energy drinks-”

“Unnie..”

“No- We were all thinking so I’m just gonna say it- We thought you were gonna die Y/n.”

She said it so matter-of-factly that you could almost laugh. Almost.

“Why would y-”

“You were barely home, working like a slave every fucking day, starving, and depending on pain meds- so yeah, OF COURSE WE THOUGHT THE WORSE!!”

You finally gained the courage to look up at her teary eyes.

“Do you understand the amount of fear I felt when I saw you drop to the ground yesterday?! How terrified we felt when you didn’t wake up when Yunjin screamed your name?!!”

“I-..”

“Kazuha carried you to the hospital because she was too scared that something might happen to you if she let go!! Can you even imagine being that scared?!”

You looked down at your lap, fiddling with the needle(IV drip) inside your hand. Sakura gently held your hand to stop you.

“That’s enough Chaewon.” She said.

She’s never stern, but this time she was. Sakura gave you this look, something just like the one your mother always gave you.

Worried, angry, but somehow warm.

“We were scared Y/n.. More than the fainting, I was scared of losing you just like last time…”

Last time? Oh yeah. You almost killed yourself during debut.

“We care about you. You know that. All 5 of us love and cherish you, sometimes even more than anybody else in the world. And watching you slowly fade away like that just…”

She started to choke up. It was rare to see her like that, so you instinctively shot out to pull her into a hug.

Holding onto you, as you might just fade away, Sakura softly sobbed into your shoulder.

When you felt another weight on your back, you turned around to see the youngest also snuggling into you. Probably the person you mostly didn't want to catch you in such a depressing state.

"I...I'm sorr-"

Yunjin, with the same teary face all the others choked out;

"It's not your fault."

She slid next to the edge of the bed, gently holding onto Sakura's hand right on top of yours.

"I wanted to be better. Good enough to stand by you guys. I just wanted to-" You felt the tears finally fall free from your eyes as Chaewon with the same frown (albeit a bit softer) held your face.

Gentle. God, they were all so gentle with you.

"You are. You are good enough. You are good."

Watching you sob out, Kazuha finally joined into the pile, right next to Yunjin as she dries your tears with her old sweater sleeves.

You let out another ugly cry as you feel the 5 girls' warmth trap you. You forgot that you were good enough. You forgot how loved you were.

But just like always, they were there to remind you once again.

"You're loved Y/n. By us, always."

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

[lilbitdepressed27]

Tara Carpenter/Fem!Reader She’s the Man AU

Summary: inspired by she’s the man, with a few changes

Warnings: Chad’s a bit of a jerk but nothing else really

WC: 9.3k

Author’s Note: sorry for any mistakes. Hope y’all enjoy:)

"What?!"

"Sorry girls but I can't really do anything about it."

"But we win more games than the boys do!!"

"Yea what the fuck why aren't they the ones getting cut."

"What?! No you don't, you guys just face other girls that don't know how to play."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. You couldn't believe you dated him. To be fair you had been sexually confused for a long time. Battling your inner self to be true to who you were. Frankie was your ex boyfriend and you honestly wanted to slap yourself every time you looked back at that relationship. You honestly didn't know what you were thinking.

"Oh really you guys haven't won a game since like what freshman year?" You backfired. "Can't even win a game against the schools rivals, Woodsboro Panthers." The boys in front of you glared at you knowing that it was always a touchy subject. The team had always been sore losers.

"I'm sorry girls but we have to practice unlike some people." The couch and the boys laughed as they walked away.

The girls team was left standing on the field feeling a mix of emotions. You were beyond pissed and there was absolutely nothing you could do.

*

You had been walking home, your music blasting in your ears. You had been extremely bummed out, your dream had always been to play soccer in the big leagues. Wanting nothing more than to play with your idols. Couldn't really do that if your school doesn't have a girls team. You would have to transfer to another school that does have one but you'd doubt that your parents would let you. The closest school would be Woodsboros, but they also didn't have a girls team.

The sudden pull of your jacket had you stumbling back. "Ah what the hell!" You turned around taking off your headphones. Only to be faced with your brothers girlfriend.

"Anthony-Oh ew it's you."

"What do you want Sherrie."

"Where's your brother. When you see him tell him to call me."

"What's the number, 1-800-BIYATCH." You laughed to yourself.

"Whatever. Just tell him."

You laughed as she walked away and went into the house.

*

"Wait what do you mean you're leaving?" Your eyes followed your twin brother (although you didn't really look that much the same, there was similarities but you were a bit taller then he was. And the much better looking twin) he was moving back and forth from his bag and his closet.

"The band got booked to perform in fucking London. Can you believe that?"

"London?  As in London England? Wait, what about school. Don't you start next week?" You were sat on his bed strumming his acoustic guitar.

"Oh right, I wanted to ask if you can cover for me. You know, use that mom voice of yours and I don't know  make a call or something." He closed his bag and packed one of his many guitars. Once he was finished he looked at you with a smile.

"Wait, what about mom and dad?"

"One of the ups of having divorced parents. Mom thinks I'm with dad. Dad thinks I'm with mom. And they both hate each other too much to call each other." Throwing two of his bags out window, followed by his guitar.

"And what about your girlfriend? I don't even know why you date her."

"Cause she's hot, it's a guy thing. Well, I'll see you in like two months, maybe more." Anthony smiled and left through the window.

"Anthony!"

"Oh were you talking with your brother?" The sudden voice of your mother startled you.

"Uh yea, on the phone. What the hell is that?" You used the horrendous dress that your mom was carrying as a way out. If clearly worked when your mom beamed down at you.

"It's your dress. For the-Ugh mom." You groaned, knowing what she was going to go on about. "I said I'm not doing it. There's no way I'm putting on a dress. Literally the last time I wore one was when I was two. I'm not doing it." Standing up and putting your brother's guitar away.

"I don't know even know why I keep trying." She said as she walked away. You rolled your eyes and stood up. Looking into the mirror. Your brothers picture to the side. You picked it up and held it up. You never understood how you were related to him. Let alone a twin. You truly never looked alike. You were a bit taller than he was. And honestly stronger as well.

"Well if you can't beat them. Join them."

**

"Ha. You're funny." The hairdresser laughed. Kirby shook her head as she continued to cut her clients hair. Looking back at you, only to stop laughing. "Oh you're not kidding. Wait you're serious."

"Yea come on Kirb, I have a point to make. And I can't do it if you don't help me. Quinn, Anika back me up." You looked back at your best friends.

"Yea come on Kirby. The coach and the whole school in general think that girls can't do half of the things boys can do. They kept the stupid boys team and they don't even win!" Quinn spoke, she was still heated on the matter. Although she didn't have the same dreams as you, she still wanted to support you.

"Yea Kirby, they even got new uniforms and lockers for the boys team. A losing team might I add again." Anika voiced from your side.

"Come on Kirby please." The three of you spoke simultaneously.

The elderly client butting in. "Yea come on Kirby."

With a laugh Kirby laughed and nodded. "Fine."

*

"Damn. You make one fine ass man." Quinn whistled when you stepped out. You so badly wanted to scratch your head. The wig was something you'd have to get used to.

"Shut up. Do I really look like a man?"

"Yea one hot ass man." Anika joked as she stood next to you, reaching up to fix your wig. Quinn laughed from her seat as she ate her popcorn.

"Okay. Now we got the walk. The talk. Tomorrow you start. Remember be confident. You got this. We got all the paper work ready, oh and also. Remember to respond to the name Anthony. Anika literally tried to get your attention using your brothers name, and you didn't listen. Cause you have to get used to it." Kirby said as she got some of the popcorn from Quinn.

"Okay. I got this. I got this."

**

"I don't got this. Take me back. This was a stupid idea. Don't you ever let me come up with any more ridiculous ideas ever again. I can't believe you actually listened to me. You never listen. I can't believe I came this far. Well it's far enough. Take me back-Y/n stop!"

"Relax. You got this, now suck it up and get your shit together." Kirby handed you your bags and pushed you towards the entrance of the school.

You gulped and took a deep breath in trying to calm your nerves. With a look of encouragement from Kirby you made your way into the school.

*

Going into the boy side of the dorm rooms had been everything you expected and more. It was literally your worst nightmare come to life. The smell alone was enough for you to want to turn on your heels and leave. A mixture of body odor and a tone of axe spray. But you had to do this. You now had a point to make and you were going to make it.

You've never moved so fast to make it to your dorm. Slamming the door shut once, the relief of being in the safety of your room was washed away when you felt eyes on you. You were quick to straighten up and eyes wide as you looked at the three boys.

Clearing your throat, remembering to deepen your voice. "What up. Y'all must be my roommates." Nervously fumbling with your keys.

"Uh na I'm your roommate Chad. This is Ethan and that's Wes. They live next door."

You nodded as you put your bags down. Trying to swallow the anxiety that you felt coming up your throat.

"Yo what's your name?"

You turned around to look who was talking. Wes sat on the window seat playing with a ball.

"Anthony Y/ln, so you play the beautiful game bruhs, bros? Brothers?" You had tried to remember how boys talk but at the moment your mind was going blank.

"Yea, Ethan midfield and Wes plays defense and I'm a striker. What about you?"

"Center Midfield."

You cleared your throat as you got unpacked your bag. Taking out your boots, only remembering the tampons you shoved into the boot when Chad pointed them out.

"Dude why do you have tampons?!"

"Uh. I get really bad nose bleeds?"

After the horrifying and embarrassing display of you shoving a tampon up your nose. You were left with a big sense of regret. As the boys laughed and mocked you.

*

So far it's been alright.

That's a big fat lie. So far it's been hell. Things are horrible. The first try outs were today and man. You'd think it had been your first time playing. You had always thought you were great at soccer. It was a sport you loved. You had played it for the longest time. Now you wouldn't go and say you were horrible but you had a lot to learn. Especially since you made it on to the second string. That had been disappointing.

"Good job boys. Nice work, for the second strings don't feel discouraged. You are just as much on this team as the first stringers. Now go hit the shower. I'll see you guys tomorrow." Coach Loomis spoke before leaving to his office.

Showers?!

Crap! How could I forget about the freaking showers?!

You tried to think of any possible reason why you wouldn't be able to. You'd didn't really want to see anyone naked. Let alone a bunch of immature boys. But the closer you got to the boys locker the more you were starting to panic.

"Y/LN! Principal Riley wants to talk to you. So get a move on." Coach yelled from his office.

You had never felt so much relief like you did this moment. Never moving  so fast to get out of a room before.

*

The talk with the principal had been one of the weirdest and most awkward talks you had ever been in. As you walked out of the office you felt your body collide with a smaller body.

"Oh my god I'm so sorry. Are you alright?" The sudden action causing your voice to come out normal before you could even realize. Moving to help pick up the books the shorter girl dropped.

"It's okay."

You looked up, only for your breath to hitch in your throat. The girl in front of you was so, beautiful. Completely gorgeous. The faint freckles that littered her face, made you want to count every single one. Her dark brown eyes, were so mesmerizing that you could get lost in that pool of dark chocolate. Her small smile had your heart hammering in your chest. The dimples that appeared had to be the cutest things you had ever seen.

"Uh here's your books." You cleared your throat deepening your voice, the smile that she directed your way was enough for you to almost go weak to the knees.

"Thanks. You're the new transfer student, right? I'm Tara."

Tara. What a beautiful name. You returned the smile, "Y/-Uh Anthony. It's nice to meet you Tara." You held out your hand for her to shake, at the sound of her giggle, your smile grew just a tad bit. But the moment her soft, small, warm hand was in yours it was like your hand was made to hold hers. At the sight of her blushing cheeks, you pulled your hand away, clearing your throat.

"Well it was nice to meet ya Tara. I have to go and do some, guy stuff. Uh I'll see you around." With a nod you were quick to walk away. Part of you hoping you'd run into the Tara again.

*

"Dude this is not working. Who knew making friends as a dude could be so hard. Not to mention that I'm starting to smell. Kirby how could I forget about the showers. My roommate is a bit of jackass and-Alright take it easy. I can help you with the making friends situation and the shower problem. Let me just get the girls I've got a plan." Kirby cut you off before hanging up, not giving you a chance to respond.

"Kirby? Hello? Ugh, I hate when she does that." You mumbled. The past two days of being a 'man' have been a little bit harder than you had expected. Your roommates along with his friends are bit of jerks and clearly didn't want to be around you.

It wasn't long till, Kirby showed up with Quinn and Anika. Who had bright smiles on their faces. You hurried to get in the car. "Oh I've miss-oh wow you stink." Quinn cut herself off, pulling away from you.

"Don't remind me. Now what's your plan?"

*

With feeling fresh and clean, you walked into the restaurant with a new found confidence. You knew at least half of the students and soccer team were in the place at the moment. It was great for Kirby's plan, 'Make friends plan'. Her own way of making friends for you was well, "the boy way". That's why she had brought Quinn and Anika.

"Fuck here comes Anthony. Spread out so it looks like we don't got room." Chad nudged Ethan to the side as they spread out in the booth. It wasn't like he hated the guy but since the tampon moment in their room. He wasn't in a rush to make friends with his roommate.

"Oh my god Anthony Y/ln! Oh my god I've missed you so much."

Chad was pulled from his conversation with Ethan to see a red haired girl. She was hot.

"Quinn. Hey baby, how you doing?"

Chad couldn't understand how someone like Anthony could have girl like this one. The guy was weird. He acted completely strange. But here he was with this hot girl. Eyes widening a bit when the girl lightly kissed Anthony on the lips before leaving. He heard Ethan chocking on his soda when yet another girl, just as hot, called out to Anthony. The way this dark haired girl refused to let him go. Only leaving when Anthony slapped her butt.

"What the fuck? Did those two just talk to Anthony? Him?" Wes spoke in pure disbelief. There was no way. Seeing a hot brunette coming his way. He took his chance. "Hey there pretty lady."

"Ew. Are you talking to me?"

"I was just- Yea sure let me make it clear, girls with asses like mine don't talk to boys with faces like yours."

The two teammates shared a look, trying to hold in their laughter at the face Wes was making. The one of pure embarrassment.

"I'm looking for my boyfriend Anthony Y/ln."

The three boys jaw dropped in disbelief.

*

"Fuck it's your brothers girlfriend. Don't let her get too close or she'll recognize you." Kirby had spoken so quickly you barely had time to understand before you heard Sherries obnoxiously loud voice.

"Wait what?"

"Anthony!"

"Oh fuck uh be gone you craziest-" You felt a small sense of fear as you tried to dodge Sherries attempts to get to you. You had gone as far as using a stack of pizza boxes to cover your face. "Can't you take a hint. If I don't answer your phone calls or your texts. It could only mean one thing. We are done!"

Sherrie had acted like you expected. Leaving with scream of anger and most likely embarrassment. You were relieved on the other hand. Your cover was not blown. You heard the cheers and even felt the acceptance of your schoolmates.

"Dude that was awesome."

"You're officially my idol."

"Make room for the man."

*

Like Kirby had predicted. The plan had worked. You had the "respect" of your teammates and the school. Although you kinda felt a little bad for Sherrie. Even though she's been nothing but a bitch to you. You also didn't stink that was good. You had gotten used waking up super early in the morning. Getting the showers to yourself.

"Hey Anthony."

You turned at the sound of your brothers name. That was also something you kinda got used to. Being addressed as your brothers name and not yours.

At seeing who called for you, it had you smiling in a way you couldn't really control. "Tara hey. How are you doing?" You faced the shorter girl. She returned the smile as she looked up at you.

"I've been good. I haven't seen you around the past week. How's the school treating you." Tara had tried to see Anthony around the campus. But the campus was huge. She hasn't even got a glimpse of Anthony which was extremely disappointing.

"Oh it's been something else. I like the campus though." You looked down to what she was holding and it was stack of what you could clearly tell were heavy books. You reached for them without really realizing that you were. "Let me help you with those." You didn't really give her a chance to decline before taking most of the books.

"Thank you. But you didn't have to." Tara could feel the warmth coming from her cheeks. She could only hope that Anthony couldn't notice.

"It's okay, now what are you even studying that requires you to carry so many books." At sound of her laugh you smiled, her laugh was so sweet.

"Oh I've been transferred out of my class into another. Apparently I was too smart for that class."

"Nice, a smart girl." You teased smiling in satisfaction when you saw her blush. "No but seriously, aren't you running for class president?"

"Yes, I'm been elected to run. It's nothing." She looked away from his gaze. Her own mother had been dismissive of her achievements. She hated the feeling of being a disappointment. She's tried not to let her mother's words affect her but, it's her mother. The harsh words are bound to have an affect.

"Are you kidding? That's great, you were elected, which that alone is awesome. Don't sell yourself short. But don't worry future Ms.President. You have my vote." The smile you got in return was something you'd cherish. You hated how sad she had looked for a just a second before the look was gone.

"Thank you. That means a lot. Well this is me." Never had she felt so disappointed to arrive to her class. She had wanted to keep talking to Anthony. The way he acted around her was in a way no other boy has. He didn't treat her like she was just a piece of meat, like she was just some type of trophy he could show off to his friends. He was different from the other boys in school. "I'll see you later?" Hoping her voice didn't come off as hopeful.

"Of course. Later Ms.Future President." With a small bow you handed her books and walked away. Smiling when you heard her laugh.

*

Arriving into your biology class was something you weren't looking forward to. You hated cutting open any animals or anything that was once alive. Taking a seat as your roommate and his friends took a seat in front of you. The boys becoming your friends was also something new. Ever since that day at the pizza place your popularity had grown.

"Dude I keep forgetting to ask. But how long did you date that girl?" Chad asked as he took a seat in front of his roommate.

"Too long-Alright pick a name out of the bowl and who ever you have will be your lab partner for the rest of the year."

Taking one of the pieces of paper from the bowl you unfolded it. Smiling at the sight of the name. "Tara Carpenter." You looked up, searching for your brun-the brunette that was becoming your favorite. Eyes connecting with the beautiful chocolate eyes. Oh how you loved chocolate. Seeing the smile on her face as she looked at you. Sending a small wave.

"Dude you know Tara Carpenter? Switch with me." Chad couldn't help the small sense of jealousy at the way the girl he liked was looking at Anthony.

"Yea and no cause I said her name out loud." You gathered your things and moved to table Tara had moved to. Placing your bag on the table as you sat down. Leaning forward just bit.

"Hey Tara. I gotta be completely honest with you. The whole dissecting thing freaks me out, so I think you're gonna have to take the reins on this one." You whispered to her. Hoping no one else heard you.

"Wow I don't think any other guy would have admitted to that."

"Crap, you're right." Your eyes widen as you looked down at the paper with a cut open frog. The feeling of wanting to barf came strong.

"No no. It's okay. I got you. I'll take the lead." Tara wanted to wipe the frown on his face. It was such an adorable look but she also wanted to comfort him, so she reached for his hands, taking his hand into hers. His hands were so soft. Not like any other boy's hands she's touched. The warmth and softness of his hands made her want to hold on to them longer.

"Uh no papers from other classes on the table." A boy you e never seen before said, paper was pushed in between in your face and Tara's. Seeing the color of the paper. You quickly tried to grab it but Tara was quicker.

"Oh what's this poems?"

"Lyrics. They're hi-my my old stuff."

"You're the closest to heaven that I'll ever be. And I don't wanna go home right now."

You sighed in relief, realizing it was a song you wrote for your brother to sing. He wanted a romantic song and your were such a sucker for them.

"This is really good."

The way she was looking at you had your throat in a knot. Feeling like she could read your mind by the way she was staring intensely into your eyes.

*

As you walked out of the classroom you were pulled by the back of your shirt. "Dude what the fuck Chad!" Pulling your shirt from his grip.

"Anthony my guy. Did you tell her anything about me?"

"Who Tara? Was I supposed to?"

"Come on man. You could convince her to go out with me."

He looked so serious you couldn't help but laugh. "Dude you've been going to school together for, how long? I don't think she likes y-Come on! If you help me. I'll help you train to make first string for the rivalry game."

"Wait what? Seriously?" You were good, but apparently not good enough to make first string. And you had something to prove. You couldn't be distracted by anything. Not even a pretty brunette. It wasn't like Tara liked you.

"Okay, I'll tell her all about Chad Minks and how he's a great dude. But I won't force her."

"You're the man Anthony!" Chad cheered, this was going to work. He knew as much. He just needed someone to sweet talk him up to Tara. Then he would be the hottest guy dating the hottest girl in the school.

*

Training with Chad was fun. The more you trained with him. The more if felt like you were getting better than before. The love you had for game had always been big. Always trying to improve your self in how you play. With Chad's help you were a whole lot prepared and skilled during practices.

As for helping with Tara. It was coming along. Well the best it could without sounding pushy about the situation.

"So when can you let me read the rest of that poem?"

You were brought out of your thoughts at the sound of Tara's voice. You tried to avoid the frog that was cut open in front of you.

"Poem? What poem?" You teased, smiling when she squinted her eyes at you.

"Ugh you suck. I'm going to get you to read it to me one day. You just watch."

"Now, I heard from your friend Amber that you like someone."

"What?" Tara felt her eyes widen. She was going to kick Amber's ass when she sees her. Amber wouldn't tell him, that she liked him right? The feeling of her heart racing as she watched Anthony write down some notes before looking right at her with those soft y/ec eyes.

"Yea, is it by any chance Chad Minks? Cause I've seen what the way he looks at you. I mean I can see it."

Seeing the disbelief and was that disgust? You weren't sure. Reading people wasn't something you were really good at.

"Chad?"

"Yea."

"No."

"Yea."

"No! I mean he's good looking and all but he's just not the guy for me." Tara had tried to like Chad. He was what most girls wanted at the school. But every time she looked at him, she felt nothing. Chad was just like every other jock that has tried to get into her pants. Only wanting her for her body. She had seen how Chad was with Liv. Liv had been so in love with Chad. But the moment Chad got bored he left Liv. Liv had been left heart broken. Tara had gotten used to blocking out any guy that had tried to hit on her. Most of the guys (if not all of them) had always succeeded in making her extremely uncomfortable.

"Hmm I don't know maybe there's more to him than you think there is." You hated yourself for even bringing it up, you could tell this conversation was annoying Tara.

"So he's not just another dumb jock, who wants to get in my pants. So he could tell his friends but is too-Insecure to treat you as an equal?" You understood how she felt. It wasn't long you were also dating a dumb jock.

Tara looked at the taller boy in shock. Never had she met someone, let alone a boy, understand what she had felt. Seeing him agree had honestly left her feeling baffled.

"You know you are the first guy at this school who hasn't tried anything with me."

You felt you cheeks heat up as you cleared your throat, "Oh uh I'm not really looking for another relationship. Just got out of one that was a bit, hard I guess? You're a great friend Tara. You're actually the only person in this school I feel comfortable around."

Even if she felt a bit more that just disappointed that he only saw her as a friend. She offered him a smile. "I feel the same way about you." Her vocie coming out softer than usual. Looking into those beautiful y/ec eyes. It was enough for her to get lost in them. Even if he only saw her as a friend. She could work with that.

"Good, and just take my advice. Chad's a pretty cool dude, get to know the guy."

"I'll consider it." She was most certainly not going to. She watched as the soccer player tried to focus back on the task at hand. The cut open frog they still had to be dissected. The cute grossed out facial expression on his face was too cute for her to ignore.

"So what's that exactly?"

"Uh I think that's the spleen." A small noise of acknowledgment was all she got in response before she saw Anthony fainting and falling to his side. With a chocked laugh she was quick to check on him.

*

"I honestly thought you were joking about the dissecting thing freaking you out this bad." Tara couldn't hold back her giggles as he finally woke up. She had been worried at first. But the more she remembered the face the soccer player made, the more she couldn't help but to laugh.

"Ugh." You sat up, realizing you were now in the nurses room. You felt a little warm inside to see that Tara was sitting next your bed. Wondering if she was sitting there while you were out cold.

"How are you feeling? Down to dissect more frogs?" This time Tara couldn't help the full belly laugh.

As much as you tried to keep a straight face, a smile made its way to your face. You really liked the sound of her laugh. Her smile, the dimples you liked so much being on display. "You're so mean."

Tara brought up her hand to cover her mouth. Trying to control her laughter. "I'm sorry."

She looked utterly beautiful. The sun coming from the window shined on her like if she were an angel. All you wanted was to kis-Uh oh. No. No you couldn't be falling in love with Tara.

You couldn't.

*

"Yo! You okay? I can't believe you passed out over a cut open frog." The laugh that followed was nothing like Tara's.

"Yea whatever. But I've got you half way. She's considered going out with you." You flopped on your bed, looking up at the ceiling. Falling in love was not part of this plan. You couldn't for many reasons. One being the most obvious, YOU WERE A GIRL! For starters. You were a girl pretending to a boy, pretending to be your brother. Tara was obviously straight. And if you did show any signs of liking her, it would be misleading. You were a girl.

Tara was straight.

"Wait really? So should I go ask her out?"

"What? No!" Trying to ignore the jealousy you felt coursing through your body. "You don't want to freak her out."

"Ugh I hate the waiting game. I've been waiting for the past years. Since 6th grade. That’s five whole years. You have no idea how long I've wanted to, to date her. She's the hottest girl in the school."

You narrowed your eyebrows at your roommate. You won't deny that Chad is a great soccer player. He was outstanding on the field. And he was nice enough to help you out to make first string. But other than that you weren't really sure why he was so eager to be with someone who clearly didn't like him back.

*

"Wait what do you mean? You think he doesn't like you?"

Tara groaned into her pillow. As much as she enjoyed being with the taller soccer player. She couldn't ignore the small little voice in her head telling her that Anthony didn't like her back.

"I don't know Amber. He's not like any other boy I've ever met before. He hasn't even flirted with me. Not even once!" She chose to ignore the laugh coming from her best friend.

"What? There's no way. Every guy here has flirted with you at least once." Amber has watched for the past days how this guy had her best friend hooked with just his presence. She won't deny the guy was kinda good looking. But there was something about Anthony that was making her sexually confused? Amber was a proud lesbian. There was no denying that, but she had gone soooo long without finding any boy attractive. Not even when she was little. But now Anthony Y/Ln was a first. Now she didn't like him in that way like Tara did. But there was something about him that was familiar. She just couldn't seem to know what.

"Wait really?" Come to think about it, Amber has not seen Anthony flirt with any girl at all. Every time she saw him he it was always either during class (which he did really pay attention to) and then during the soccer practices. "Wait you don't think he's gay do you?"

That thought had never even crossed her mind. The thought of Anthony being gay had her sitting up straight to face Amber.

"What? No! There's no way-I mean, I don't know. Oh my god let it be me to fall for a guy who could possibly be gay." She groaned even louder as she covered her face with her hands. If Anthony was gay, she would have to move on. Or she could just ask. He did have those two girls at the pizza parlor. Not to mention that crazy ex. But if that were the case. Maybe he's bisexual. Or just now gave up on the girls and just wants boys now.

Ugh. It was just her luck.

*

"What's up Anthony."

You looked away from your open book. You had finally gotten away from Chad and his friends. A moment of peace away from those boys was what you desperately needed. They were rowdy and fun but you could only take so much before you wanted to pull your hair out.

"Sup Amber. How's it going?" Amber was Tara's best friend. You liked Amber. She was always putting Chad in his place when he tried to flirt with Tara. It was always a funny sight.

"Eh it's going but I gotta ask you something." She moved to sit next to Anthony.

You closed your book and looked at the shorter girl. "Sure what's up." You moved to grab your water bottle to take sip.

"Are you gay?"

The water burned as it went up your nose, you spluttered out wet coughs as you tried get your breathing back to normal. You took the napkins Amber offered you. "Jesus Amber. No I am not gay." Well you were. And as funny as it would be for these students to believe your brother Anthony was gay, you weren’t that mean of a sister.

"Really? Not even a little bit?" Amber did not feel convinced for the weirdest reason. She just couldn't put a finger on it.

"No not even a little bit. Why?" You let out a chuckle once you had your breathing under control and you were no longer chocking. Gay?

"Well can you blame a girl for asking." So he wasn't gay, Tara did have a chance. Amber couldn't help but to feel excitement. Mingling is something she was great at.

*

You hated being here, carnivals. Absolutely hated them. Clowns were literally your worst nightmare and those things were everywhere. Not only did you hate clowns. But you absolutely hated that you had to change from being you to your brother. So you opted to just staying as you for the remainder of the day.

"Wait they thought Anthony was gay?" Anika asked again once she was finished laughing.

"Anthony gay? Girl he is as straight as they come." Quinn laughed as well, the girls along with Kirby had arrived at carnival before you did. You mom had called the moment you arrived and said you were signed up for the kissing booth. Part of you had never felt so offended and angry. You were not going to be kissing no strangers. No matter the cause before hanging up.

"Any cute girls there?" Kirby nudged your shoulder as you walked around. Noticing the blush on her younger friend. "Oh so there is. What's her name?"

"Stop. There's no-Liar! Come on. Tell us." Your two best friend nudged and pleaded to know. You rolled your eyes although you were smiling.

"There is on-" You were cut off by someone bumping into your body. You were able to catch them before they fell. "Oh I'm sorry."

At the sound of the voice, the voice that sounded awfully familiar! Tara furrowed her eyebrows before looking up at the person. Only for her eyes to widen in shock. The girl standing in front of her looked exactly like Anthony. Almost like a spitting image. "Do I know you?" She couldn't help up to ask.

"Uh no. I don't think so. Sorry." You moved to walk around Tara. As much as you wanted to talk to her as you and not Anthony. You couldn't, not without blowing your cover. You were quick (but not too quick to make it weird) away.

Kirby and the girls were quick to follow you. Noticing Anika sharing a long stare with one of the girls. "Oh my god was that her!" Speaking once she was far away from the short girl.

"Would you shut up, and yes that's her." Your cheeks flushing at the teasing grins that were looking your way.

"Dude she's cute!" Quinn shook your shoulders in pure excitement.

"You should totally try to get w-No, she's straight. And I don't know if you know this but I'm a girl." You shook her head, continuing your walk only to see Chad and Frankie fighting. You were quick to run to the scuffle. Trying your best to pull the two dude's away from each other.

"Frankie stop!"

Chad turned around at the voice, opening his mouth to say something he had been momentarily distracted enough for Frankie to hit him. Making Chad stumble into you. You caught him right when the security showed up. Quinn and Anika pulling you away before you could get in trouble.

"Hey are you okay?"

You were standing to the side, after being yelled at by your mom. It wasn't even your fault but you let her yell at you. The girls had gone to get food while you waited. The sound of Tara's voice you looked towards her. She offering such cute shy smile.

"Uh yea I'm okay. Thanks for asking." You murmured, you weren't sure why you felt so shy now. Maybe it because you weren't sure if Tara would like you as Y/n and not as Anthony.

"Are you related to Anthony Y/Ln by any chance?"

"Yea he's my twin brother."

"Wow you guys are crazy alike. It's almost uncanny. How do you know Chad?" Tara couldn't get over how you looked so much like Anthony. Ever since she bumped into you earlier that day. She couldn't stop thinking about you and Anthony. She had always been comfortable with her sexuality. She had always said she was bisexual. And right now was a good example why. Anthony. He was so charming, so sweet and just so funny. Honest. You. You were honestly the most beautiful woman she's ever seen.

"Yea we get that a lot. I'm Y/n." Sticking out your hand for her to shake.

"Tara." Tara took your out stretched hand. Your hand taking hers in a gente but soft shake. She looked down at your hand, it was awfully the same as Anthony. Down to the same softness that she has grown to like.

"Damn that guy who beat up Frankie was kinda hot, wasn't that your brothers roommate." Quinn asked as she wrapped her arms around yours, interrupting whatever was happening between you and the short girl. From the corner of her she was able to see the same girl that had bumped into you looking right at you. Maybe that girl wasn't as straight as she seemed. "Hi I'm Quinn."

"Nice to meet you. I should go back to my friends. It was nice meeting you Y/n." She couldn't stop looking at you, she hoped that it wouldn't be the last time she saw you. A past of her also feeling a bit of disappointment seeing the red head being so close to you.

*

"Dude, what? What's on your face." You spluttered with your words at seeing the tampon up Chad's nose. Part of you wanted to laugh.

"Oh this? Yeah I grabbed one of your." He pointed to the tampon as he got up. "And they actually work." He took the bloody tampon out and threw it away.

"Dude what happened?"

"Well turns out the dude I fought was your sister's ex. And man she looks just like you. It's kinda scary. I mean I have a twin but we don't look that alike. She's kinda hot. Is she single?"

"Eh we get that all the time. And yea she is but she's gay."

Chad's shoulder visibly deflated. "Damn."

"I thought you liked Tara?" You narrowed your eyes slightly. Hoping it wasn't noticeable.

"I do. But I can admire another woman. And your sister is hot. Can't believe she dated a douche bag like Frankie." He didn't even do anything to the guy and Frankie had just lost his cool. And Chad wasn't one to back down.

"Yea, everyone gots at least one person they regret dating." You laid on your bed. Remembering how Tara finally met you as your true self.

*

"Hi Anthony." You looked away from your homework to see Tara sitting down in front of you. You were once again in the library.

"Hey Tara. How was the carnival yesterday?" You closed your book, focusing on the way Tara was looking at you. She had the same look of when she was studying something. In this case she was studying you. Which was making you quite nervous. "You okay tar?"

Seeming to be snapped back to reality. Tara nodded, "Yea sorry. It was fun. Why weren't you there?"

Shrugging in response, "Crazy ex showed up and wouldn't leave me alone so I just ended up leaving."

"Mmh, I didn't know you were a twin." Tara couldn't get over how much Anthony and his sister looked alike. It was truly uncanny. It was like she was looking at a man version of the girl she saw at the carnival.

"Oh you met Y/n? How was that?" You wanted to know what she thought of you.

"She was sweet. We didn't talk long, her girlfriend showed up."

"Girlfriend?"

"Yea this pretty red head."

You let out a laugh. She thought you were dating Quinn. You love Quinn she was one of your best friends. "Oh you mean Quinn. No that's just my sisters best friend."

Having a weird sense of relief, she wasn't even sure why. She had just met you. Why did she feel jealous. She had no reason to feel this type of jealousy. "Oh. They just seemed close."

"They've been friends since they were in diapers. They've just had a close bond since like forever."

"That's sweet..Wait didn't you kiss the red head?!" The memory had been shoved right to the front of her brain.

"Oh...yea. Uh.." Think faster!! "That was more of a friendly kiss? Quinn was just trying to help me break up with my girlfriend at the time. Sherrie was-is crazy. She was also kinda of a bitch to Y/n."

At the mention of that girl being mean to Y/n. It had her feeling, protective? You had looked so nice. Your soft y/ec eyes held some type of warmth. She wanted nothing more than to talk to you again.

*

"Y/LN!" You jumped up from the leg press machine. You had been working out with Chad for the past hour. The game against your school was less than a week away. And you have been training hard. The practices have been a lot more easier now that you knew how to play like a man. Chad had been a great help.

"Yes coach?"

A jersey being thrown at you. You looked down at the jersey. Your last name stitched on the back of the jersey along with a big number name below it. You felt your eyes widen in shock and excitement.

"You're first string for the rivalry game."

"Really?"

"No I was joking, you idiot." Coach Loomis said sarcastically before walking away.

You couldn't contain your excitement. Jumping up and down. "Yes!" Chad laughed as he shook his head.

"Congratulations man."

*

"Oh I know. Ask out Chad, like in a friend date. But don't let him know that, do it in front of Anthony. See how he reacts." Amber looked at Chad and Anthony from across the gym.

"But I don't like Chad."

"Which is why it will be a friend date. But you'll tell him that on the date."

Tara debated the plan. She really liked Anthony. His personality, his attitude, the way he was around her. It was so refreshing. So pure.

"Okay."

*

You couldn't stop smiling. All your hard work was finally paying off. Your point that you were trying to make was almost done. Wanting finish your workout before calling the girls.

"Hey Chad."

You both looked up to see Tara in all her glory standing there. Looking at Chad.

"Tara! Hi."

You could tell that he was nervous. With a quick look from Tara. You sent her an awkward thin lipped smile. Hoping Tara couldn't tell how jealous and dejected as you seemed.

"How about we go out on Friday."

But she did. She could see how the happy glint in his eyes faded as soon as she mentioned the date. She watched as Anthony turned around fiddling with his phone.

"Really?! I uh mean. Cool. Yea cool I'll see you Friday."

*

You hated yourself for feeling so jealous. You hated it. You had no right to feel jealous. Tara was straight and clearly giving Chad a chance. You had to focus on the bigger picture. So you tired to do that.

Staying late at the gym before the big game tomorrow. You didn't know how long you were until you saw the time. Figuring you needed some good nights rest before the game tomorrow. With a quick shower, you made your way back to your dorm room.

You had expected for Chad to be home so quickly. You were sure he would still be out with Tara.

"So are you gonna tell me the truth?"

The truth? You looked at Chad wide eyed. Did he know that you weren't a boy. You were sure you had been good at hiding your true self. Maybe your wig had fallen off while you were sleeping.

"Uh truth?"

"Yes the fucking truth."

He seemed angry, well you assumed he had a right to. Maybe he felt a little weirded out that girl has been rooming with him for a while.

"Okay, I'll tell you the truth. But just know that I did this cause I had to prove something. I've always loved soccer and-What so you use me to get better at soccer and then what steal my girl."

You were confused now. What on earth was Chad talking about? "Wait what? What are you talking about?"

"Dude stop lying I saw you!" Chad knew he may have been overacting. First he was a bit mad and disappointed that the date hadn't gone as he had hoped. The date had been so awkward and he had just felt so uncomfortable, and top off the date Tara had told him she didn't like him in that way. When he had seen Anthony, his so called friend kissing Tara. He had felt so betrayed and extremely jealous.

"Saw me do what?"

With his anger at an all time high. He had pushed Anthony out of the room without any further explanation. Slamming the door in Anthony's face.

"What the fuck?" You were left confused. With no where else to sleep you walked away towards the library. Hoping that it was open.

*

"Yo Anthony! What are you doing here?!" Jumping up from the chairs you had pushed together in a form of makeshift bed. "The game is about to start."

This had you almost tripping over your own two feet as you ran out of the library towards the boys locker room. Confusion taking over as you saw your uniform was gone. Fumbling with your phone hoping to find some answers.

Tony: thanks for unpacking my things and making my room. You're the best sis

Tony: why did you sneak tampons in my drawer. Jerk

"Fuck."

**

You could only watch from the safety of hiding under the bleachers as your brother destroyed all your hard work. He truly was a horrible athlete. It was like watching a baby trying to walk. If anything a baby could probably play better.

Sighing in relief as the whistle blew out signaling the ending of the first half. Watching as the coach Loomis spoke to your brother. Banging your head on the metal. Your brother walked past the bleachers and you took this opportunity to yank him under the bleachers.

"What the fu-Y/n?"

"Dude what the hell are you doing?" You punched his arm, he was supposed to give you a heads up before coming back.

"Ow! Me? Why are you dressed like me?"

"Ugh I was trying to prove to our old school that a girl could be just as good as any boy on the damn team. Can you believe they cut the girls soccer team and not the boys?"

"Wait what? But the girls team win more games?" He knew how much you love the game. There was never a game he would miss when you played.

"Wait, what are you even doing here?"

"Oh!" Remembering what had happened last night. "There was this girl. She kissed me. And even though it was only a second cause when she pulled away from me and looked at me like I was stranger. But I came to look for her cause she was hot."

"That's what Chad was talking about." You mumbled to yourself. "Give me back my uniform. And stay hidden.”

*

“Wait what do you mean you kissed him?” Amber asked as she looked away from the game. Half time had just started and it looked like Anthony was being given another chance. She had never seen someone play so horribly. It was almost laughable.

“Yea I did.”

“Then why do you sound disappointed? Shouldn’t you be happy, you have been crushing on the guy for a while now.” She looked back at the match. The second half time hasn’t started yet.

“I don’t know. I felt nothing. He usually makes me feel so much but last night, it felt weird like I was kissing a stranger. His lips weren’t as soft as they looked.” She didn’t really remember seeing his lips last night. But she remembered seeing those lips everyday. They had always looked so soft so kissable. The lips she kissed last night were not soft.

“Well I’ve seen him practice and he looked great during practice. The way he was playing in the first half, it might as well have been a stranger.” Mindy spoke up from her spot. There was no way Anthony was playing like newbie when he had trained so hard to make first string.

Quinn, Kirby and Anika shared a look. They were sitting behind the three girls. Maybe the short girl wasn’t as straight as they had assumed.

*

The second half was going a whole lot better than the first half. With you scoring the first goal with the help of Ethan. The stadium bursting out in cheers. The score now being 1-0.

You could still fell the hostility coming from Chad. He refused to look at you, going as far as to not even passing you the ball. This caused him to lose the ball. Leading your old school to score. Tying the game.

“Dude come on I know you’re mad but let’s put that aside for the next forty minutes.” You made the mistake of placing your hand on his shoulder. This caused him to push you away.

“Get your hands off me.”

“Chad come on-” you were pushed again before Ethan and Wes held him back.

“Do you two little princesses have to step off or something?” Hearing your ex’s voice was not what you needed. Hearing his obnoxious laughter along with his teammates was almost ruining the happiness you felt. “Do you ne—Y/n?!”

You didn’t want to look at him. Cause now you were for sure made. The dream you had of proving yourself was burning down. With a heavy sigh you turned around. Seeing Frankie’s eyes widen in shock. Knowing the act was over. You took off your wig. Hearing gasps from literally everyone.

“You’re a girl?!” Chad asked no longer angry. He couldn’t believe he just physically pushed a girl. And his push hadn’t been gentle.

“Yea sorry about the lying, I had a point to prove.” You moved your gaze towards your coach. He had his arms crossed.

Hearing the laughter coming from Frankie and his teammates, even his coach had laughed. “You can’t play with a girl. It says in the rule book.” The coach said smugly. This was when coach Loomis stepped up. Taking the book from the other coach.

“What rule book? Here in Woodboro we don’t discriminate. Based on gender.” Coach pointed his finger at the other coach’s chest. And you knew it hurt based on how the other coach stumbled back and how rubbed the spot.

“Alright then. You think you can beat us with a girl on your team. Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

With a wink being shot your way by Coach Loomis you smiled excitedly. You couldn’t believe he was going to let you play. You quickly put your hair up in a ponytail so it wouldn’t be in your face. You were now more confident more comfortable.

*

Winning the game had been everything and more. The way Frankie had run off crying was so funny, extremely hilarious actually. You had been told off by your parents like you had expected but you could tell they were proud. Especially your dad.

You also watched as Chad was being down talked by your brother. Probably telling Chad off for pushing you earlier.

“All this time you were Y/n?” You turned around to see Tara standing there. She had not looked mad or anything. It was more a of curiosity.

“Yes. I’m sorry. I know it was misleading and wrong. For that I’m sorry.” You fiddled with your fingers. Upon hearing laugh you looked up towards her. Her smile brighter than before.

“Are you kidding? If anything I need glasses. Cause wow. Also sorry for kissing yesterday. Kinda thought you were her.” Anthony walked back to his sister and the hot girl, although a bit dejected he was happy you were happy. He had never seen you so happy yet nervous at the same time. By the way Tara was looking at you. He knew she felt the same way. With a dismissive wave he smiled and walked away.

“So? You’re not mad?”

With a shake of her head, she took your hand in hers. “A little bit, but that’s because I was so sexually confused, then you came along and I’ve never been so confused. Now I’m just hoping you feel the same.”

With the smile of your own you grinned back. “I’ve never felt so sure Ms.President.”

With a giggle of her own she wrapped her arms around your neck and brought you down for a long awaited kiss. Now these lips were soft. These were the lips she had been dreaming about. The feeling that had been absent were now there and going crazy. Just like she had wanted.

“I FUCKING KNEW IT!!” Amber yelled. There had been no way she found a boy attractive. Especially since she had the biggest crush on her best friends sister. But that wasn’t relevant.

:)

[i-would-f-me]

sal fisher headcanons

i've literally never been so horrendously down bad for a character before.. so i HAD to share my head canons for sal :3

CW: NSFW AHEAD!!

fluff <3

♡ he would try to teach you guitar, even if you arent very good at it...

♡ if you have sh scars, he'd kiss them over and over and over again, no matter where they are

♡ blushes over everything you do, any little touch you give him, he gets flustered over

♡ "ummmmm... uhh- i- well.. umm"

♡ he loves giving you things. for whatever reason, he's always gifting you small trinkets to show his love for you. his favorite excuse for buying you something is "it reminded me of you!"

♡ not the kinda guy who goes for looks. no matter how 'ugly' you think you are, he'll wholeheartedly see you as the most beautiful person in the world.

♡ with that being said.. he'd definitely stop in his tracks if he saw a cutie :3

♡ (IT'S YOU, YOU'RE THE CUTIE. EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU IS HIS TYPE. GOD, HOW ARE YOU SO PERFECT FOR HIM??)

♡ if you ever mention something in a conversation (a band you like, a cool movie you just watched or a book you read, etc.) he's definitely going home and learning all he can about it.

♡ wholesome romance like those in the romcom movies

♡ "i love everybody because i love you" /ref /ly

♡ would totally let you paint his nails, do his hair, anything like that. he loves when you make him feel pretty <3

♡ doesn't want anyone to know this, but he loves wearing your clothes. like, you know the whole "wearing you bf's jacket/hoodie" thing? that's what he wants, but with your clothes.

♡ obviously he won't deny you his hoodie, but deep down he's waiting for you to give him yours

♡ LOVES giving long, deep, passionate hugs. hugs and cuddle sessions that can go on for an hour. he loves squeezing you against him, it makes him feel warm and fuzzy inside; being so close to someone he loves so much

♡ he WILL sniff you. he can't get enough of your scent. at first he was scared you would think it was weird, but now he does it freely. he's a very sensual person, and because of his disability (possibly impaired sight?), he often relies on his other senses to soak up every little piece of you.

♡ he loves wrapping you in his arms, cradling and comforting you if he knows you need it.

♡ he's excellent at reading you. he feels like he knows you best. despite being someone who can't really show his emotions through his expressions, he's amazing at reading yours.

♡ you don't even have to tell him anythings wrong. he knows when you need a hug.

nsfw :3

♡ definitely has a mommy kink. argue with the wall.

♡ it just slipped out one day.. you were riding him, making him feel good and warm, and all of a sudden he let out a small "m-mommy..!"

♡ that being said, he LOVES having you on top of him

♡ while you're straddling him, he grabs you by your hips to make sure you're not going anywhere

♡ very shy + whimpering mess

♡ the kind to not know where to put his hands

♡ that doesn't mean he sometimes doesn't have a dom side to him...

♡ he's definitely a giver. he prioritizes your pleasure before his own

♡ he's insecure about his ability to turn you on, make you cum, etc. he always tries his hardest to make you feel good, and lets just say it always works :3

♡ jerks off to the thought of you more than he would like to admit

♡ has a VERY vivid imagination.

♡ oh god the things he thinks about doing to you are almost to embarrassing for him to admit

♡ very sweet and loving the whole time. he's huge on praise, and would rather die than ever make you uncomfortable. your sessions are filled with millions of

"are you liking that?" "you're doing so good for me." "are you okay with this?" "you feel amazing (y/n)"

♡ he needs 100% confirmation on your dirty suggestions. you could make a hint, but won't act on it until he's absolutely sure you mean it (obviously you always do, but god is this boy insecure.)

♡ doesn't seem like it, but will fuck you like a rabbit. it's always the quiet, sweet boys who are the dirtiest behind closed doors :3

♡ likes being bitten. idk. idc. IDGAF.

[hyperactively-me]

black tie affair

He slowly comes up behind you, hands stretched out in front of him, wordless. He grasps your waist firmly, holding you in place as his other hand brushes up against your lower back. You shiver under his touch, body still, unmoving. He was so close. So close.

"oh nooooo the zipper on my dress is stuck, what ever will i do? who would ever help meee?"

zipper is stuck trope. with ghost. lol bye.

also, don’t mind me making stuff up for this fic. don't think too hard about it. let's just pretend!

(asks are open)

happy reading

EDIT: PART 2 OUT NOW

warnings: none

Tonight was the Special Forces Military Ball. It was a once-a-year event that everyone on the task force looked forward to as an opportunity to unwind from work. A night of speeches, dancing, and drinking was highly awaited. 

You were in a hotel room, finishing applying your makeup in the small bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. The lighting was horrendous, but you persevered. You gently brush on the last touches of your eyeshadow, blinking a few times at your reflection in the mirror. You tilt your face side to side, inspecting every inch of your makeup before pulling back, smiling contentedly at your work. It’s been a while since you last wore this much makeup. A quick sigh escapes your lips as you turn out of the bathroom and into the main room. 

A long, black dress lays across the hotel bed. The dress swishes gently across the floor as you pick it up from the bed and hold it up in front of you in front of the floor length mirror. The sweetheart neckline swoops gracefully, the thick straps of the dress adorned with small silver gems. The skirt of the dress hugs all of your curves in the right places, accentuating your features. 

You start to slip on the dress, pulling it up and around your body, then pulling the sleeves over to rest on your shoulders. Reaching around your back, your hands come up as you fumble around with the zipper, only pulling it up an inch before it stops.

You try pulling it as hard as you can to no avail. Messing with the zipper a few more times does absolutely nothing, the continuous motion of pulling it up and down useless in aiding you. The zipper rests, stuck, on your lower back. 

“Fuck” you groan, annoyed with the stubborn zipper.

You angle your back towards the mirror and stare at it, mostly bare, with a frown. Someone was going to have to help you with this. 

Everyone, with the exception of one person, was busy preparing for the event as you racked your brain about who you could call. 

Simon “Ghost” Riley.

The big guy. 

You grab your phone and scroll through your contacts before your finger lands on his name. You hesitate for a moment, almost already regretting this. Next thing you know, you bring the phone up to your ear, biting your lip as it rings. The phone rings once, twice, then you hear the line pick up. 

“Hello?” the low timbre of his voice echoes from the phone. 

You inhale dramatically, and turn to look at yourself in the mirror. 

“Hi,” you sigh. 

The silence from the other end is overbearing. You grimace a little. 

You speak quickly, “So uh, I need some help.” You hold your breath as you wait for a response, any response from him. 

You hear some shuffling around, and a small cough. You roll your eyes once more. 

“Please,” you strain. 

He hesitates for a moment. “What’s wrong?” 

“This is awkward, but uh, the zipper on my dress is stuck, and you’re the only person I could think of to call and I totally get it if you can’t help me–”

“Which room is yours?” he cuts you off briskly. The shuffling in the background abruptly stopped. 

Your mouth opens and closes for a moment, shaking your head as you try to answer.

“Oh, yeah, it’s room 456, fourth floor…” you trail off. 

He hangs up without a word. You bring the phone away from your ear slowly and stare at yourself in the mirror once more. 

He really is a man of few words. 

You pace the room a few times, waiting for him when a single, brief knock raps your door. You stop in your tracks and turn to the door, then run to the mirror to make sure you look presentable enough. You look through the peekhole just to make sure its Ghost before you pull open the door swiftly. 

You’re met with his chest in your face, and you drag your eyes upward to his face. His covered face. In that skull mask he always wears. He’s wearing a black tuxedo along with a crooked black tie. 

“Hi” he says simply, raking his eyes down your form. 

You immediately grab his bicep and pull him into the room and shut the door behind you, pressing your exposed back to the door. He chuckles quietly at you, raising his eyebrows in amusement under his mask. 

“Thank you so much for coming” you breathe out, wringing your hands together. 

He just stares at you for a moment longer, taking in your appearance unabashedly. He shoves his hands in his pocket and clears his throat. 

“Wow. You look amazing” he whistles. 

Your cheeks heat up, your mouth slightly agape as the air leaves your lungs.

“Thank you.”

Your dress swishes around your feet as you push yourself off the door, brushing past him. “I could say the same for you, Simon.” 

Turning around, you brush a piece of stray hair behind your ear, taking a deep breath. He takes a few heavy steps towards you, his silence overbearing. 

“If you could zip me up, that would be great” you smile gently at him, biting your bottom lip awkwardly. You turn around, your exposed back facing Ghost, and you pull your hair over your shoulder. His breath wavers, eyes roaming the expanse of your back, then finally coming to rest on the small of your back. He slowly comes up behind you, hands stretched out in front of him, wordless. He grasps your waist firmly, holding you in place as his other hand brushes up against your lower back. You shiver under his touch, body still, unmoving. He was so close. So close. His free hand closes around the zipper, hesitant to free it. 

“Ghost–”

“It’s Simon. Simon, when we’re not on job,” he corrects. You stand up straight. 

“Simon. Are you going to zip me up?” 

He grunts quietly, then pulls at the zipper once, twice, before it's finally freed. You can feel heat radiating from his fingers as he pulls the zipper up agonizingly slow. As he pulls it up your back, his fingers brush against your skin, the small touches making your knees weak. Your cheeks feel hot from his languid movements. You let go of the breath you didn’t realize you were holding when he zipped it up to the top.  

The trance you were in abruptly stops as you hear the small click of the zipper hitting the top. You swiftly turn around, the skirt of your dress bustling around as you take a step back, his hand falling from your hip. 

“Well, thank you Gh– Simon” you say, pushing your hair back to its original place. You rock back on your heels as you inspect his covered face.

His eyes look blown wide, his hands now pulling at the bottom of his tux jacket.

“‘s not a problem” he murmurs, eyes still not looking away from you. His hands wander up to his loosened tie, fidgeting with it.

You notice his tie isn’t properly tied, and you take a few steps close to him, your eyes staring straight at his chest.

“Let me help you with that” you point to his tie. You take his hands in yours and gently pull them to his sides. His hands dwarf your own, and you drop them. His breath hitches. 

You wrestle with the tie, your hands brushing up against his chest and collarbone as you twist it into perfection. You keep your eyes trained on the tie, biting your lip as you concentrate. Simon’s eyes remain locked on you, following your every movement. 

The silence permeates the air, save for the rustling of fabric against fabric. 

You finish tying the knot, and pull it up tight to rest against the base of his throat. He stretches his neck upwards as your hands come to fasten the tie in place. You smooth your hands on the edge of his jacket, straightening out any remaining wrinkles. Your head tilts upwards, smiling softly at him. 

“There” you sigh contentedly, patting his cheek gently before pulling away. 

Before you could fully remove yourself, his hand snakes down to your waist, pulling you up against his body. A small squeak slips out of you as his hands rigidly hold your waist.

“Simon–”

“Stop talking.” 

Before you could even process his movements, he yanks his mask over his nose. Your breath catches in your lungs as your eyes trail the features of his lower face. His breath is hot on your face as he leans down, closer and closer. “Can I kiss you?” he murmurs, eyelashes fluttering as he stares at your lips, noses bumping into each other. He’s only an inch or two away from your face, and you can see every lineament of his skin, his cheekbones, the tip of his pointed nose, his lips. He smells like sandalwood and vetiver, the scent peppery and strong. 

You nod your head fervently, heart racing in your chest. 

“Please.”

That’s all he had to hear you say. 

Simon leans in, closing the miniscule gap between you two. He leans down to press a firm kiss on your lips, inhaling sharply at the contact, eliciting a soft sound from you. Your hands wrap around his neck, tugging him down to your height as his hands roam up and down your back. Simon draws your body against his, pulling you flush against him. He begins to nip your bottom lip, tongue swiping over your lip as if to ask permission. You let him take charge, his hand gliding up your body, your breath growing ragged. 

He bites your lip, slowly pulling away as he breaks contact. You gulp in the cool air of the room, studying his face as he slowly pulls his mask down in place. Your ears are red, face flushed. 

“You’re beautiful,” his voice comes out hoarse as he takes your hand in his. He rubs his thumb in circles around your palm, outlining your face. 

“Thank you” you whisper, taking his hand into your own. 

You gingerly pull him out of your room, and don’t let go of his hand for the rest of the night. 

PART 2

[n3rdy247]

HELLOO!!

can i just get a john dory x female reader! headcanons!

john dory met while crashing the wedding and immediately started to flirt with dispite just meeting her. 🫣

THANK YOU!!

HIYAAA!! CAN YOU??? 🤔🤔🤔

girl be so fr OF COURSE YOU CAN!!!

ALL ABOAAAARD THE JOHN DORY X FEM!READER HCS!!!!! WOOOOOOOOO

Okay, so, you know the whole 'watching a cute, romantic ass wedding' plans everyone had for today? Just...watching two bergens have a nice, uninterrupted marriage?

"STOP THE WEDDING!!!"

well fuck those plans. ★ Starting off the bat, when he was literally parkouring his way down that building which just happened to be the MOMENT he noticed you from the crowd, he couldn't help but throw a wink your way right after (even though he had his goggles on, that stupid mf) which led to him face-planting to the floor because his ass was NOT paying attention to stick the landing. YIKES. ★ He also DOES notice when you are at the edge of your seat to hear what the hell is going on. Apparently, he was Branch's brother (figures since both are fine ash, MUST be in the genetics), he was in a band, and his other hot brother was in danger?

remember the wedding? yeah me neither atp

★ He can't help but steal occasional glances at you when the others talk, and when he does, his smile almost seems to widen, even if it's just for a split second. He just saw you, yet look at you go! Making him all giddy and shit inside 🤭 ★ And whenever Poppy and Branch turn their backs to discuss the whole situation, you just KNOW he would be smirking at you with a smug-ass grin, trying to strike up a conversation. Keyword? TRYING.

"Soo...come here often?" lord almighty sir THIS IS A WEDDING.

"Damn, I could really go out for some fresh air right now, because I think you took my breath away." SIR WE ARE OUTSIDE WHAT

Needless to say, this man does NOT know how to strike up a convo.

★ If you do end up getting flustered about his horrendous pick-up lines somehow, he will be so fucking proud of himself for getting a reaction out of you, and WILL keep going at it. What a charmer. (Unless you are uncomfortable with that of course, he might not know how to talk to people, but he has human (troll???) decency.) ★ I'm talking him leaning slightly closer to you with half-lidded eyes, a huge smirk plastered on his face as his voice gets lower and lower, though internally I feel like he'd be going 'LET'S FUCKING GOOOO I STILL GOT IT' since he would be a bit unsure if he was doing well in the first place. It's probably been years since he had any sort of interaction with anyone other than Rhonda so it's understandable. ★ Not to mention BROZONE. MY GOD. If you know about his band? NICE! If you don't know anything about it? NICE! Either way, this man will absolutely brag about it to you. Even if it has been AT LEAST 20 YEARS. He will absolutely talk about 'the good old days' as if it was just yesterday. Bro would probably talk about how he wrote the hits "Girl Baby Baby" and "Baby Baby Girl" on the same day. ★And who knows? Maybe at the end of the wedding when sadly he has to go to save his brother with Branch and Poppy, you'll end up getting a way to contact him after the whole thing ends. You will see him sooner than you think, that's for sure though!

(please keep in mind this is the first time I've written any serious headcanons like these and not just stuff like 'he would be a great hugger' or 'he was a 7.5-inch haver 🤯🤯🤯')

GRAAAGH I'M STILL SO SORRY IT TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS THOUGH, I STILL HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT EVEN IF IT IS SHORT AS HELL

[theminecraftbee]

you know what au concept i have flashed back to recently? the jimmy dating simulator hell au. which is to say: an au idea i had and i think posted about before where jimmy gets isekaied into being the protagonist of a dating simulator with all of his friends (that he flirts with/are commonly shipped with him) as the dating options and at FIRST when suddenly, all of his friends are OPENLY into him, it's great! he's preening under the attention, he's like "yes. haha. actually i AM great glad you finally noticed." and then bit by bit he's like. oh no. wait. what happened to my friends. and has an existential crisis about the world suddenly and horrendously revolving around him.

anyway i have been thinking about that again. i'm still not sure how i'd write it without either being A) too mean to the concept of dating games (which is to say, i don't really play them, and i worry i would come across as an outsider making fun of them because of that more than 'i love video game existential horror') or B) being too mean to the idea of like... fanon and shipping (two things i am Fine With, to be clear, i just love the idea of 'you are forced to meet a warped reflection of someone you love, and they have become warped around you'.) but it's also SUCH A GOOD PREMISE and if i can figure out how to make it work i'd love to. (or love to see someone else make it work if that happened.)

anyway all of this is to say: i know in the original post i joked about jimmy figuring it out because grian's too nice to him. but you know what, dating games absolutely have the tsundere one. i think it would be interesting if jimmy figured it out because scott was too nice to him. because like... in a lot of ways, THAT ONE would be the right kind of warped for jimmy to go. wait. this isn't someone fucking with me for the bit. .......why isn't this that.

all of this is ALSO to say: undecided on whether i like this premise as pretty fully horror (only jimmy knows something is wrong) or i choose someone who i think is like, wholly unattracted to jimmy even in fanon (and also honestly to make it work, basically wholly unconnected to him in the plot) to make stuck as the One Other Guy who knows something is wrong. if i had to do that i am thinking real hard and landing on. maybe cleo? that might just be me being a cleo guy but i think honestly cleo or like, ren might be the most effective ones for that slot.

all of this is ALSO ALSO to say: so like do we make this just a "jimmy has to live his life like this" horror or add the "time loop to get all the routes!" flavor of horror to it. so many options,

[trashmouth-richie]

Eddie x fem! Reader [masterlist]

Prev | vol viii

Summary: November 1st, Steve’s birthday celebration, a new friend is brought into the mix, Eddie’s past is revealed.

Trigger Warning: no minors pls, language, drinking, reader wears Eddie’s jacket, fluff, angst.

W/C: 11.5k

@jo-harrington + @ghost-proofbaby for beta reading this a tiny bit for me

The sun is waning through your curtains, blinding your eyes with a light so bright it’s like you’re staring into a flashlight. The ominous whirring of your fan oscillates, sending a chilling breeze across your room

Silently thanking yourself for taking ibuprofen before falling asleep last night, the pounding in your head is minimal, but the scratchy dryness of your throat is a steady reminder of the impromptu karaoke singing and the toe to toe chain smoking contest you bullied Eddie into. Your former drunker self turned cockier with every drink.

“I bet you… this house! This fucking house! That I can smoke more cigarettes than you can at once,” you slurred in a buzzed stupor as you swayed your body with the faint music of REO Speedwagon, your finger pressed into his chest where the fabric v’d open.

Red eyed and already higher than Willie fucking Nelson, Eddie grins wider than the Cheshire Cat, dipping low to your ear to whisper, “game on, sweetheart, but we’re smokin reds not your menthol shit.”

News flash. You couldn’t out smoke Eddie. And your burning croaky throat was proof of that.

Feet on the floor, your cold toes inching towards purchase against the carpet for your slippers. Opening your eyes, you assess the room. The Eddie costume you proudly wore all night, was strewn across your floor, complete with the wig. A rumbly laugh reverberates through your lungs along with a horrendous hacking cough. The memory of Jeff wearing it and imitating Eddie jogs across your mind. The way Eddie pouted and glared through his lashes made you smile sweetly at the memory.

A quick glance at your body in the mirror shows that you’re still wearing the soft black DIO shirt from lastnight, but thankfully you changed into pajama pants.

Another rough barking cough against your already achy throat surrenders it’s vices and begs for water. Opening the door you are met with a freezing chill. Eyes blinking in the bright sun from the windows in the living room, you take note of the heaps of bodies snoring and drooling amongst the floor.

Mike and El are cuddled up like two little kittens against the back corner in the living room, her blonde wig used as a pillow, Mike’s Mad Hatter jacket and his arm draped over her. Finding yourself gawking at the sweetness of seeing them curled into each other, you wonder if you would ever have a great love like they did. Your stomach leaps when the one crossing your mind is Eddie.

It was wrong. You shouldn’t be feeling this way about your brother’s friend, your roommate for fucks sake! He was everything you hated about the male population. Loud, annoying, an absolute pervert. Messy beyond belief, couldn’t boil a goddamn egg. But, he was also gentle, kind, and caring. Your yearning heart ached for his touch like the day he held you close to his chest during your darkest hour.

Not to mention he was cute. Okay, that’s a lie. Eddie was hot, in that rugged ‘I-don’t-give-a-fuck’ kind of way. Different from most guys in Hawkins, who were obsessed with their appearance, their family name. Eddie didn’t care, he was just himself. Always had been, always would be. And something about that cocky demeanor, burying the kindest heart you’ve ever come across, made your heart stutter in your chest.

Would he hold you like Mike was holding El if you were his? Would he cover you in kisses and do cliche things with you like matching couples costumes on Halloween? Something deep inside told you he would.

“Cute aren’t they?”

You jump out of your skin at the low, velvet voice, not realizing he was awake, your hungover mind foregoing the aroma and slow drip of black coffee being made. Too wrapped up in thinking about him to notice that he had approached you on your left, his messy curls swing against your cheek as he had bent down to your ear.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says with a chuckle.

You turn and look at him, he’s so close to you your noses almost touch. The tickling shock of nervousness from last night returns and travels up your spine, curling into your hair, igniting every hair follicle, a burning welcomed pleasure against your scalp. A quirked smile on his lips as you take a step back.

Blinking slow, you take him in. His smile could melt the polar ice caps, that goddamn panty dropper grin, you curse yourself silently for feeling the heat on your neck. He’s wearing black sweats, cut above the knee and rolled at the hem from many washes. A horrendously sawed off cut t-shirt adorns his broad shoulders. The same raw hems rolling inward, exposing a silver hoop in his nipple. The sun catching the steel ring and casting a blinding glare against it. He tips the coffee mug he’s holding back to his lips, emptying the contents in one gulp. The smell of potent orange juice fills your nose as you stare at his lips. His tongue poked out to lap up the last spilled drops.

“No, you’re fine—I didn’t realize you were up,” you explain, rubbing sleep from your eyes. Peering around him at the small wooden clock on the wall, it’s only 8:30, “didn’t know you were aware that there was an 8:30 AM on Sundays.”

“Are you always this witty in the morning?”

“It’s a gift,” you say with a smirk, “consider it a blessing, you’re late by the way.”

“Late for what?” The lazy way he smiles at you should be a crime.

A coy smile on your lips, “Sunday Service.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and grabs his side, wincing slightly, “agh, don’t make me laugh,” he groans, “I think I fucked up my back or something from falling down those steps last night.”

“…twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six…”

Gareth turned his head from the spout engulfing deep breaths from the chilled night air. Argyle and Jonathan let his feet back down to the deck. Standing next to Nancy and Ash, you whoop and holler along with everyone else, cheering on the new Keg Stand Champion. Gareth, stands on wobbly legs, taking a deep breath, he shouts, “And that's how it’s d—“

Before he can finish his victory speech, he projectile vomits all over Big D. Covering him shoulders to waist in foamy chunks of party food and the cheap keg beer. Laughter erupts from Eddie, he throws his wild hair back in amusement. Clutching his stomach and choking on the smoke from the joint he had just inhaled. Karma, proving again that she’s a cunt, Eddie leans back just far enough to fall backwards down the five steps to the ground.

“Jesus down, Jesus down!” Eddie exclaimed, roaring with laughter.

Concerned, you delicately reach for his wrist and move his hand away from his ribs. A small splatter of deep purpling color against his alabaster skin suggests that they are more than likely bruised from the fall. The dainty touch of your fingers on his body sends goosebumps against his flesh, and it wasn’t because your hands were cold. He swallows hard, adoration in his brown eyes as he takes in your smell, how messy your hair was, the hum on your lips as you observe him, pressing the pads of your fingers into his skin.

Who would have thought that simple minuscule touches from you could cause a frenzy in his blood. He thought the hair washing would bring him to his knees, but this? He didn’t realize he stopped breathing until you spoke.

The hitch in his throat is dismissed by you, “sorry, my fingers are probably freezing,”

He murmurs, something along the lines of “it’s fine,” but you barely hear it.

His skin is surprisingly smooth. Women spend hundreds of thousands of dollars in their lifetime to have perfect skin, and here Eddie Munson was, baby soft skin on a metal head’s body. You take the time to admire the exposed tattoo on his ribs next to the bruises. Tracing your finger over the triangled black ink outlined in red, angry against his skin. You’ve seen the symbol before but never understood what it was. An eight laying sideways, in the overlapping section is a cross with two lines instead of one.

Seconds fade to minutes of your fingers tracing his skin. Neither you or Eddie have said a word. Unhurried migrations on your fingers skate across the alabaster, feeling for any broken bones, but only feeling the velour cream of his skin beneath your hands.

Clearing your throat, you look into his blown out eyes, “I —um,” the air is thick between you both, making it hard to breath, or it could be the fact that the caramel pools of his eyes are pouring into yours, “ looks like it’s just bruised,” you say, slowly moving your fingers away from his skin. Your nails scratching his skin casually. And a quick intake of breath hisses between his teeth.

Eddie’s voice comes out shakier than he would have liked, he licks his lips, “o-oh good.”

He casts his eyes downwards, his fingers tug gently at the sleeve of the DIO shirt you’re still wearing from last night. His eyes find yours again, the browned oasis beckoning you, “are you still mad at me for winning the costume contest?” he asks in almost a whisper, lips barely moving, his focus full on the way your soft skin under your shirt feels against his calloused fingers.

The jump in your lower belly ignited the flame within you, sending burning hot coals to your core at his ghosting fingers on your arm. You blink rapidly and scoff. Rolling your eyes to extinguish the flames, you force yourself away from him, brushing past him, your shoulder grazing his chest sends more fire through your veins, a last attempt on keeping the heat blazing. “I was never mad,” you explain. Opening the cabinet with shaky hands and grabbing a white mug with tiny yellow flowers on the rim, you take a deep breath to steady your voice, turning it into a makeshift yawn, “who do you think decides who wins the contest anyway?”

Pouring the hot black coffee into the mug the aroma fills the room. Creamer sloshes against the liquid mixing merrily into a toffee colored dream.

Eddie leans against the counter, taking a piece of candy from the plastic jack-o-lantern dish and twisting the ends between his fingers, the orange hardened sugar melting slow on his tongue.

“You voted for me?” he asks earnestly, his head bowed in bashfulness, “you’re going to make me blush, sweetheart,” he coos, swirling the candy around his mouth, clacking against his teeth as he tries to hide a smile.

Sipping the piping hot coffee gingerly between your lips, you shrug, “not every day I get to see you acting so holy, thought we should capitalize on the opportunity, plus, it really was one hell of a costume.”

The bubblegum blush on Eddie’s cheeks make him look like a teenager, twisting his hair as if he just received his first kiss.

“I don’t know, I kinda liked yours,” he said matter of factly.

“That’s cause you’re full of yourself,” you say with a teasing tone, sticking out your tongue, and coughing roughly again.

Eddie’s eyebrows pull inward, a mocked scoff on his lips, “I refuse to take insults from someone who sounds like my Uncle Wayne— told you you couldn’t hang with the big dogs— but no, Tooty doesn’t listen.”

You dismiss him with a suggestive middle finger and a smirk as you sip the coffee again, “I can do anything I want, you’re not my babysitter.”

Neither of you knew that Robin and Steve were both awake, listening intently to your light banter, your giggling voices as you teased each other. The way yours pitched in a high squeal when Eddie’s hands tickled your sides and you tried to fight him off with the paper towel row.

The two friends sit side by side on the couch, smiling widely at one another, wondering when you would let eachother in.

-

It was noon before Gareth woke up, a combination of dried puke and drool on his face. The other four party go-ers had already left and did the sad walk of shame out to their vehicles. Both Robin and Steve give you weird looks and wide glances all morning, you even noticed Steve wiggling his eyebrows.

Yawning and reeking of alcohol. The loud snores from Gareth’s slack mouth could awaken the residents lying 6 feet under in East Hawkins. He’s laying with his head in a popcorn bowl, a poorly drawn sharpie penis crudely coloring his cheek, thanks to Eddie. The cold puke slowly oozing from the bowl onto himself has your stomach lurching.

Eddie finally woke him by shaking his shoulders violently, yelling into his face, “dude! You’re gonna rattle the fucking house off the foundation with that deafening snore, Christ almighty!”

Gareth stirred alive, swinging his arms frantically. “Fuck, man, scare the hell out of me why don’t ya!”

“Oh relax, trust me— it was either this or the Tooty method,” Eddie says with a grin motioning to you standing behind his shoulder holding a cup of cold water, a devilish smirk on your face, “seriously though, get up you smell like two-week-old rotten asshole.”

After Gareth and Eddie argue over why he has a dick drawn on his face, and Eddie swearing it wasn’t him, Gareth bumps his fist into Eddie’s and waves goodbye as he stands at the front door, and addresses you, “helluva party Tooty, hopefully I didn’t make too much of a mess and you’ll invite me again next year,” his easy smile is something you’ve never seen directed at you. Of all Eddie’s bandmates, Gareth was the hardest to read.

“Duh, you’re the reigning keg stand champion, you gotta make a return,” you smile back.

Gareth laughs, his floppy thick hair matted from the habit he wore all night, “think my keg stand days are over.” He looks from you to Eddie, watching the way Eddie smiles at you adoringly, and he starts to finally get it. Understand why his friend acts the way he does around you. You’re easy to talk to, friendly, kind, once you let your guard down. He looks to Eddie again as you turn and walk back to the kitchen, giving him a knowing glance shifting his eyes to you, and nodding his head once in approval, “see ya around dickhead,” he jokes to his oldest friend, his role model, his brother.

-

“Why the fuck do I have to wear this?” Eddie groans, pulling at the stiff collar on his shirt, buttoned too tight around his neck, not used to material that wasn’t leather or soft cotton, the metalhead was crabby and uncomfortable in the borrowed maroon button down shirt and black skinny tie from Harrington, “I look like a bible salesmen!”

Steve’s birthday was tonight and he requested to have dinner at his favorite restaurant in Indianapolis. He had gotten a big promotion at work the week after Halloween and was in need of a little celebration before the task of being executive director started.

Slotting silver iridescent dangly earrings you had borrowed from Nancy into your ears and adjusting the matching choker against your throat, you take the last curler out from your hair and fluff it with your fingers to give it shape. You holler from closed confinements of your room, “it’s for Steve’s birthday, not your birthday— quit being a big baby!”

Stepping your tights into the borrowed black velvet pointed heels, and smoothed down the black velour mini dress with the spaghetti straps you had bought last week from an ad in the paper about selling prom dresses for cheap. The material was snug against your curves fitting like a glove. Your makeup was darker than you would have normally done on any other given day but since this was such a fancy event for one of your closest friends— you smoked out a brown eyeshadow across your lids and added a heavy coat of mascara to your lashes with a thin line of eyeliner. Your favorite lipstick swiped delicately across your lips.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you are pleased at your reflection. A patch of doubt trickles up your chest making you question if you should change. Is it too much? Is it over the top? But all that comes to a halt when loud banging is heard on your door. Stopping your spiraling shame cold in its tracks.

“Tooty?” Eddie raps on the door, “Steve just pulled up. You ready or are we leaving your ass at h—”

For the first time in Eddie’s life he is speechless. Not counting the time that his jaw was wired shut for 6 months when he took his skateboard off the roof of Gareth’s house in middle school.

Tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, dry and itchy like eighty grade sandpaper. His eyebrows are lifted, tucked beneath his bangs. It’s as if everything was going in slow motion, he couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he was stunned by the drop dead gorgeous woman in front of him.

Your beauty wasn’t something that just happened in a movie with you pouncing down the stairs to some cheesy song with your friends clapping at the top and high-fiving over their “miracle makeover”. Eddie just simply wasn’t accustomed to seeing you dressed up like this.

It’s taking everything in him to not spring forward like a rabid dog and close the gap between you. Slot his lips against yours. A desperate, needy kiss so full of urgency that your head would spin. He’d keep you in the spinning wonderland until both of you were seconds from passing out. Dizzy from the floating clouds and blissful euphoria soaring around in his arms. He wants to grab your waist, wants to fist his fingers around the nape of your neck, wants to see the way your mouth would open with a gasp as he kissed your collar bone, so sweetly, so delicately— his name a whisper on your breath. He’d kiss your lips until they were chapped, sore, and tender to match his. Then he’d kiss them better, his lips the antidote, curing your craved pain.

He’d give anything— his van, his guitar, the band whatever it took— just to get a taste. In this dream land he’s everything you wanted, everything you needed. You loved him, adored him. Accepted his flaws, his past, his scars. He’d hold you tight while you slept, your head tucked into the crook of his neck, stealing sleepy kisses on your hair, enamored by the perfume of your hair, intoxicated, drugged by the lust of your skin. He’d learn how to cook, make you delicious meals, clean the house, do the laundry, be the perfect man. All for you.

He wanted to feel your body forming and molding around him. Yearned to know the valleys of your body, each curve, each beauty mark, each scar visible or not. If it weren’t for his heart hammering into his ears he would have thought he had gone deaf for sure.

You’re talking but he can’t hear you.

He’s still in the dream land, dancing on Saturn’s rings, cooling his feet in Jupiter’s springs, holding your hand and taking you higher with him. Your smile taking flight in his chest and ascending you along the majestic sights of the Milky Way. Completely gone from this world. A world where you were his, and he was yours.

The more he fantasizes it— the more the impossibility of this dream increases. His bravado falls, crashing through the sparkly dream with fluffy clouds, falling further down. Away from you. Away from the dream he wanted, craved to be reality.

He fell through the clouds, clinging to your fingers, would you reach out for him? Help him? Save him?

Would you ever want to be his? He was Eyeball’s friend, Prince of the Trailer Park, probably annoyed you more than Eyeball himself did. You were beautiful and put together, and him? He was lint in the dryer, causing house fires when forgotten about. Voted most likely to end up in prison for the graduating class of ‘85 and ‘86. A failure, a crack in the sidewalk you’d avoid to break your mother’s back as a kid.

Avoid the trailer park trash. Avoid Eddie Munson.

So he pushed the thoughts away, the ooey galaxy of cotton candy trees and rainbow lollipops— fading back to black as he fell faster harder, back to reality. The dead, decaying ashen life of shitville Hawkins, Indiana. Where reality came in the form of working long days to barely survive. A name branded to his soul, weathered and tarnished like forgotten silverware in a rich dementia riddled woman’s home.

Nothing. Munson trash. The town freak. Social outcast. Scum in the drain. Bastard child.

“Earth to Eddie!”

A snap of your fingers and the impatient wrinkles between your brow bring his soul back to his body.

“S-sorry,” he stuttered, wiping his clammy palms on the thighs of the cleanest pair of black jeans he owned, “We—uh,” blush creeps to his cheeks, adamant to push it down, to the cobwebbed box in his brain that never opened, he grabs your hand and starts to yank you towards the door, a gruff annoyance in his voice, “let’s go.”

You’re crestfallen.

Oblivious to his inner intergalactic battles of hoping that he was good enough for you but deep down knowing he never would be.

Not anywhere near the suaveness of Casanova he pretends to possess on most days, motor-mouth Munson was all out of gas. Spending his last tank, last drop of fuel taking you to the moon and spinning you amongst the stars.

-

Steve is wearing a black suit, standing against a new SUV, shiny ink black like the velvet of your dress, and the pretty girl’s hair standing next to him, she’s wearing a purple velour sweetheart neckline dress, with rhinestone straps, her shoulders are bare until the dress continues to cover her arms, into a full sleeve. Robin is hanging out of the back passenger side window, a tie hung loosely around her neck and a white button down tailored shirt adorning her body. Waving a bottle of Boonesfarm around.

“Come on! Let’s party like it’s 1984! Before Steve had this new bitchin’ car and still half of his virgini—“

“Robin!” Steve scolds, threading his fingers through his hair, the girl on his arm shooting Robin a pleasurable laugh, her hand on Steve’s chest.

Eddie is still dragging you along, hurrying you along. In a rush but not saying a word. “Eddie, Jesus Christ, stop, I have to get my purse,” you yank your wrist from his grip and take a step backward. Silent and fuming, your arms crossed over your chest. Looking up at him with water brimmed eyes, corners of your mouth turned downward in a confused frown.

It’s the same expression he had seen during the first few days he had moved in, when he hurt you.

Shaking his head with a huff he descends the concrete steps and stands next to Robin, clutching the Boonesfarm bottle and taking a long hefty swig, wallowing in his own self pity and self doubt of never being good enough for you.

Of course this is how it would be with you. Why would you ever want him when there are people like Steve Harrington in the world. Offering you anything and everything you could ever need. And what could he offer you? Nothing. A tainted name and a ring pop replacing a diamond.

He wasn’t good enough for Chrissy, wasn’t good enough for Trish. How would you be any different? Swallowing his pride with each swig of the sugary Boonesfarm, he tries his hardest to push the idea of you wanting to be with him, wanting anything other than someone to take up space and pay rent on time, out of his mind.

“Tooty,” Steve says, waving you over once you shut the door to the house and locked it, “Eddie, this is Leighanne, my girlfriend.”

A smile breaks on your face, pure unadulterated joy for your friend. The way his face lit up saying girlfriend, the way they’re clutched together, a perfect match, him looking adoringly into her face, staring in wonder and awe as she beams a radiating light back up to him— it’s sugar sweet.

A low ache in your chest fires again, whatever had burned for Eddie was now boiling on high heat but the pot was empty.

You thought that maybe he… hadn’t he? The bitter truth stinging your tongue, not admitting it to yourself. Not allowing yourself to think any further on the subject, you extend your smile to Leighanne. Pleasantries in your voice as you push down your own worrying heart and open it up to hear all about how Leighanne and Steve met.

“Damn, new fancy job and a car to match— never seen one of these in real life before Harrington.”

Steve dives into the story of him trading in his car for the G Wagon, a year old and less than 10,000 miles. Eddie asked questions and walked around the vehicle with Steve as he kicked the tires and inspected the paint job.

The ride to Indianapolis was full of Leighanne’s bright laugh, teasing Steve and joking with Robin. Her fingers never unlaced from his. She was funny, charismatic in a way that complimented Steve. You’re stuffed in the middle in the backseat. Robin on your left and Eddie on your right, preoccupied with staring out the window.

He’s brooding, steeping like a tea bag in the heat of the sun. Only he’s cold, off putting and sulking. Not engaging once in conversation other than. Answering yes or no to Steve’s questions, giving little up.

And you were doing the same, trying hard to focus on what Robin and Leighanne were giggling about but finding Eddie’s bad mood taking you over. His pitch black aura sucking you in and consuming you. Dampening the celebratory night for your friend that hasn’t even begun because he’s irritated by God knows what. It’s the longest ride to Indianapolis you’ve experienced yet.

The restaurant is burnt brick with an old prohibition era feel to it. Low jazz music is playing by a live band in the back corner. Reservations for Harrington bring the five of you to a secluded area low lit with hues of blacks and coppers and mahogany wood filling the space, setting the ambience for a private affair. The round table is set with a cream colored silk cloth that alone probably cost more than the value of your house.

Steve pulls out a chair for Leighanne. A pinky rouge on her cheeks as she sits down delicately. Robin climbs next to her, body angled towards her, her feet on the seat of her chair.

Taking the seat next to Robin, Eddie takes the seat next to you, angling it ever so slightly away from you, his right elbow on the table, head facing away from you.

What the fuck?

Two waiters arrive holding a large round platter filled with various selections of wines, whiskey, and beers in stout glasses. Each one filled to the brim of the finest liquor ranging in black browned ale to lighter amber on one side, the others full of their house made brew, an inch head of foam in each glass, and wine ranging from white to a deep burgundy red.

Before the waiter can even walk away Eddie has two glasses of the dark colored whiskey in front of him, shooting them down like he’s at a high school party and has a curfew. “Shit man, these are for sipping, ya gotta ease into it a little,” Steve says with a chuckle. Eddie grabs another glass from the circle of the platter, sipping it slow between his lips, letting the fervor of the liquor burn his mouth, welcoming the burn.

-

Eddie hasn’t said a word to you all night. In fact— he’s ignoring you. Usually the first to start joking around, he’s completely sullen, sinking into his bad mood letting the veil of self loathing cover himself like a blanket, choking his insides. He’d converse with everyone but you. “Can you pass the pepper,” you’d asked after laughing obnoxiously with Leighanne about how Steve couldn’t throw a punch to save his life.

Silence.

“Eddie?” You ask again, “can you please pass me the pepper?”

Another ignored moment of silence from the brooding metalhead.

“Eddie! Hello!?”

Nothing.

A swift kick from Steve to the shins finally roused him alive, blinking his eyes slowly away from his glass, thumb moving over the condensation. “Dude—Tooty needs the pepper.”

Eddie looks at the pepper shaker with hooded, bored eyes, far from the conversation around the table. Trapped in the black box of dread in his mind. He scoots it closer to you but not enough by far. Scooting your chair back with a screech, you stand and lean across him, fully in his space. Encroaching on his doomed self with your perfume wafting into his nose. Your hairspray stinging his eyes when your hair brushes over your shoulder in front of him. It’s intoxicating. The way your necklace catches the light, as you lean over him hits his chest like a lightning bolt. b

A quick turn of your face and he catches your glare, heated and angry, but his eyes are soft, solemn, sad.

“Thanks, Eddie— really appreciate you helping me out there. Next time I’ll just lay across the table when I need something, or I could simply go fuck myself if that’s easier for you? Don’t want to interrupt whatever the fuck you’ve got going on.” you spit, venom on your lips dripping from your teeth as you aggressively shake the pepper on the salad.

Eddie stands abruptly, “going for a smoke,” he says to nobody in particular, Steve stands and follows him out, with the helping nudge of Leighanne’s elbow in his ribs.

The two guys strut outside, breathing in the night air, a flick of lighters and the burning, crinkling sound of the end of two cigarettes fills the almost barren sidewalk. A minute or so passes before Steve speaks first, “nice night out, considering it’s the middle of November.”

Eddie only nods, inhaling the smoke and trying to relax.

“You alright?”

Again, Eddie only answers with body movements, shrugging his shoulders, blowing smoke through his nose.

Steve inhaled his cigarette slow, “Tooty looks nice tonight.”

Eddie bites his bottom lip and rubs his eyes with this thumb. Smoke curling around him in a makeshift halo. “Yeah,” he finally speaks, nodding his head, a huffed chuckle on his lips, “she does, doesn’t she?”

“What’s going on, man?” Steve questions, “last I knew you were head over heels for her— now you’re ignoring her and acting like a jackass in there.” He says pointing to the door, “you’re gonna fuck this up before you’ve even let it start!”

Eddie shoves himself off the wall, the cobwebs on the box in his mind where he stored his pain, were wiped away, fingerprints on the lid, “oh give it up, Harrington.” Rubbing his hands down his face with a groan, “I’m— fuck, I’m so fucking stupid. Falling for someone like her.”

“What do you mean someone like her?” Steve asks frustrated, “fuck man you really are dumb aren’t you?”

“What?” Eddie asks, his chest puffed out in confusion, “this isn’t like some magic eight ball shaking it to see if your crush likes you Steve! That’s not how shit works!”

“You’re a dumbass! Even I can see that she’s hurt by the way you’re acting!” Steve shouts, stomping out his cigarette.

“Dude I’m not talking about this right now, back off,” Eddie pleads, flicking his cigarette into the street and attempting to walk around Steve.

“Why are you being an asshole and trying to shove her away?” Steve goads.

“I’m not.” Lid is off the box, contents exposed.

“Don’t be a douche fucking tell me!”

“Because she’s too fucking good for me!” Eddie finally screams into the night, throwing his hands up in the air.

The box is dumped out. Contents spilled out in his mind, hurt behind his eyes, for anyone to see.

He hangs his head, shoulders slumped forward, he slides down the wall and sits on the cool concrete, breathing heavily, “She’s— fuck, she’s never gonna want to be with someone like me, man.”

All of his self doubt from earlier tonight, all the pain he’s ever felt from being a neglected child, an outcast in school amongst his peers, being cheated on, lied to— it all came crashing down around him. All the alcohol he consumed wasn’t helping matters either.

He was a failure, in more ways than he could count. Twenty-six and just freshly moved out of his uncle’s place. Twenty-six and still playing in a band at the bar on the weekends. Twenty-six and still alone. Horribly, utterly, bitterly alone. Drowning himself in groupie pussy every night before he moved in with you. He hated himself.

“Has she said that? Did you ever think that maybe she doesn’t care what anyone else thinks? You think it was easy for her to stay in Hawkins after her parents up and left? After Kevin was thrown in prison? After that piece of shit Chad Cunningham hurt her? If there’s anything we know about Tooty it’s that she’s a fighter, she could have left at any time, packed her shit and never looked in the rear view mirror. But you and I know that she’s too damn stubborn to let Hawkins get the best of her.”

Eddie lifts his head, looking at Steve sitting beside him.

“She needs you, man, you’re good for her.”

Mansion dreams on a trailer park budget. He could never afford the things you deserved. He loathed the thought of anyone else being able to give you the things he couldn’t, the pit of his stomach rolling.

“I don’t know, Steve,” Eddie says, timidly throwing his curly head against the brick behind him, “I saw her today all dressed up looking so absolutely gorgeous, and it hit me, I could never give her the life she deserves.”

“Come on, man,” Steve chides, knocking his shoulder to Eddie’s, “you really think I would have told you about her needing a roommate and insisting that you go and look at the house, if I didn’t think you’d be good for each other?”

Eddie shrugs his shoulders again, the self doubt creeping back, putting the box back together.

“After Nancy moved out, I knew she was scared— she’d never say anything about it, but we worried about it. She needed someone around who she could trust. Robin and I couldn’t get out of our lease, but then you told me you were looking for a place, and honestly there isn’t anyone better for her than you.”

Eddie thinks on this for a few seconds. Steve was right, he did fuck this up. “Christ, she’s probably madder than hell at me right now,” he says with a groan.

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, standing and holding out a hand for Eddie, “you’ve got some making up to do.”

-

“Am I drunk, or is he acting weird as hell tonight, like more weird than usual?” Robin slurs, almost falling out of her seat as she whisper-yells across the table at you the minute Steve follows Eddie out the door.

“Oh, honey,” Leighanne whispers, holding Robin by her arm and guiding her back into the chair, “you’re very drunk, but also I’ve never met him, but he seems sad.”

Stewing in a pot of shame and regret, you try to tune Robin and Leighanne out. A shiver of hatred stirs in your chest, pulling at your heart strings and gnawing on the fleshy stretch cords until they’re rotting, black and withered.

How silly of you to be so nervous about wearing this dress, when Eddie only took one look at you and immediately turned sour. How stupid of you to think that he had somehow turned into a decent human being, a friend, a confidant, a shoulder to cry on when you were desperate and needing consoling. How fucking dumb of you to be so mad in this moment that he was ignoring you, acting like a complete jerk and ruining this nice evening by being a pouty child.

Fuck him, and fuck this.

Reaching for the now warm wine you toss it back, chugging until your throat ached. It’s easier to swallow than the embarrassing way you thought that Eddie was growing to like you. Your mistake.

Won’t happen again.

-

By the time the guys come back, you were slightly buzzed, feeling giggling with the bubbling of the flutes of champagne that had been brought out after the dinner was cleared from the table.

Steve slaps Eddie on the back and shakes his shoulders a bit, sitting down quickly beside Leighanne and whispering into her ear, she turns scarlet red as he nudges his nose down to kiss her neck. You turn your face away, ashamed again, for wanting a love like that so bad, yet sold short.

“You okay?” Robin asks Eddie. You can feel eyes on you, burning into the side of your face, but you won’t give him the time of day. To hell with him.

He answers her back, making up some lame excuse about not feeling good as to why he was acting like an asshole all night.

“Hmm,” you hum, raising your eyebrows and huffing. Tossing your napkin from your lap onto the table, grabbing another flute of champagne and downing it instantly, crossing your legs and leaning further away from him. “Isn’t that funny?”

“Tooty?” His voice is soft, dipped in butter and spread across a warm croissant. Almost timid the way he’s barely speaking above a whisper, you pretend not to hear him.

A nudge in your side goes unanswered as you turn your face towards an almost passed out Robin. Another poke to the ribs, a ticklish spot for anyone. A tap on your hand, fervent and annoying, your name repeated in high and low tones, as you actively avoid him. He finally stops, and when he does you take a shaky breath, right as your chair is flung backwards on the back legs, and you’re suddenly upside down, peering into Eddie’s face. That cocky Munson grin plastered onto it, the one you haven’t seen all night, sends shock waves to your core, and a burn to your chest.

Goddamn him.

“Put me down,” you emphasize with bitterness behind each word.

Eddie smiles widely, “not until you talk to me, sweetheart,”

“Oh look at that everyone, the pouting child act is over, guess we are blessed after all,” you spit back, crossing your arms and trying to wriggle the chair free.

His smile is pulled back slightly, voice dipped low as he leans forward slightly, “can we talk? Privately?”

You glare back at him, venomous cold eyes peering into his, hoping he understood how annoyed and hurt you were with the bullshit he’d been pulling for hours, “Congratulations on finding your voice Ariel, but if you don’t put my chair down I’ll—“

“What? You’ll do what?” Eddie bickers back with a grin, leaning closer you can smell his musky cologne, and the burnt scent of his cigarette on his breath. He enjoys watching you squirm and get pissed off at him. Something about the way you scold him sends him over the moon.

But, he could never anticipate what you would do next.

His hands on the back of your chair, you turn your head in a swift motion and find his thumb and bite down on it until he squeals and yelps in pain.

“…bite you,”

Instinct taking over Eddie pulls his hands from the back of your chair. And you start tumbling backwards. Falling falling, reaching backwards, you grab onto the first thing you can get your frantic hands on.

It all happens too fast, one minute you’re falling backwards, the next your fingers are gripped tight on the buckle of Eddie’s belt. Your breath hitched in your chest, as you grappled to stay upwards. In a swift motion Eddie grabs under your arms and the chair falls to the ground.

Eddie pulls you up, your body skimming his as he turns you around to face him. “Damn, I’m right here. No need to get so handsy,” he murmurs in a low husky laugh.

You take a deep breath to calm yourself, sudden shock of fear fading from your body as you look into his face. Even though he’s laughing, his pupils are blown and dark, eyebrows twisted inward, and raised, pulled into concern.

“Fuck Munson,” you say, straightening your dress, trying not to melt from the heat of Eddie’s hands on your waist, “trying to kill me?” The room was spinning, you hadn’t hit your head, but maybe the rush of falling backwards mixed with the alcohol you had drank was a combination for a migraine. Definitely not the way he was lazily drinking you in, his lips stretching into a wide, pretty smile.

“Kill you?” He scoffs, hands still heavy on your waist, rubbing slow circles with his thumbs, sending your nerves into a fizzing frenzy of want. “I’m not the one biting others, kitten.”

Of all the nicknames Eddie has called you— princess, sweetheart, baby— kitten was a new one. And you’re ashamed at the pulse in your core and the heat in your cheeks as his eyes twinkle like brown Christmas lights back at you, the flick of his tongue against his lips almost sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Hey—“ Steve interrupts, stepping into your peripheral vision, “—don’t mean to break this up—but we have a problem.”

-

“Alright guys, good news or bad news?”

Steve steps through the lobby door to the sidewalk, where you, Leighanne, Robin and Eddie were all waiting for him. The chill of the night air is biting through your tights and stinging your cheeks. Even in the cozy musky warmth of Eddie’s leather jacket that he insisted on you wearing, after listening to your chattering teeth for ten minutes, “here,” he announced, stopping abruptly and shucking the jacket off his arms, and wrapping it around your shoulders, “I swear you’re gonna chip your teeth with the way you’re chattering them, it’s annoying,” he said in a faux grumble, his voice mean but his face lighting up when you hurriedly slot your arms through his jacket. Inhaling his smoke musk and cool leather combination as it dizzied your mind.

Ever since the restaurant kicked you all out on account of being too drunk, you’d been walking to a hotel. The restaurant manager had refused to let Steve get his car from the valet because they thought he was too intoxicated to drive. And also denied him from using the phone to hail a cab. There was no other choice.

So that's what led you all here. Walking fifteen blocks— in heels, dresses and fancy shirts, to the nearest hotel. Well technically thirty blocks because the waiter gave Steve the wrong directions. Everyone was freezing, tired and crabby. The drunken happy stage left about twenty blocks back.

“Bad news, Harrington hit me,” Eddie gripes.

Steve brushes his fingers through his hair, “Okay, uhh—bad news… there’s only one room available, with two beds.”

“But, there’s one… two…three..four.. six of us!” Robin counts, hiccuping loudly and letting a giggle escape her slack mouth. Maybe the restaurant wasn’t wrong in kicking you all out after all.

“No— there’s five of us, but there is a chair!” Steve chimes, “that’s the good news!”

You knew what that meant, obviously you would be sharing a bed with Robin or Eddie, and given the fact that Robin was probably a good ten minutes away before she started throwing up like she was notorious for— you were about to share a bed with Eddie.

-

The room was small but decent. Maroon, itchy bedspreads with pilling fabric sat atop the beds, white linen sheets and overly stuffed pillows with matching cases shoved into the perfectly made beds. A tiny tv sat atop a chestnut dresser complete with channel listings and a remote velcroed to it. Leighanne crosses the room and immediately finds the furnace, cranking it up as high as it will go and shutting the drapes, she sits on the bed furthest from it, and begins taking her earrings out of her ears. Sighing with relief as the heavy dangly bejeweled gems clink onto the bedside table. Steve sits beside her, leaning forward and grabbing her ankle, delicately sliding the strappy heels from her sore feet, rubbing them between his hands and murmuring apologies to her, kissing her shoulder.

Eddie is kicking the toe of his boot into the carpet, hands pushed into his pockets and looking downward. The awkward question of who-will-sleep-where is weighing heavy on your mind, just when you’re about to ask him what he thinks, Robin pushes between you both and makes a mad dash to the bathroom. Like clockwork.

“I’m never letting her drink again!” Steve says with a huff, “every time, she does this every single time!”

You snort out an exhausted giggle, this night went to hell in a handbasket the minute you left Hawkins. The only thing left to do was laugh about it.

Leaning your body against the wall, you carefully step out of your heels, the dingy carpet a glorious welcome to your aching feet. Stretching your toes out and wiggling them against the carpet brings a sigh to your lips.

Body tired from the constant shivering and cramped calves, you couldn’t wait to get the dress off and feel the warmth of the blanket around you, cocooning yourself like a caterpillar in a chrysalis.

Fuck.

You didn’t have any clothes with you, just the dress you were wearing, tights and a black thong. If it was Eddie you’d be sharing a bed with, what the hell were you supposed to wear? The thought hadn’t even trickled into your mind until this very second as you noticed Eddie unlace his boots.

Panic riddles your body, fuck would you lay naked next to him? Should you keep the dress on?

“Hey,” Eddie whispers into your ear, reigning you back in with his velvet voice, “there’s a vending machine by the elevator, wanna come with me?”

His lips contort into a smirk, and his hair wisps against your cheek, tickling your skin as you turn into him. Still wearing his jacket the neckline covers your mouth and nose as you nod your head yes.

-

The low pile fibers of the emerald and turquoise hallway carpet feels plush and luxurious against your nylon toes. A welcomed dream to your throbbing feet. You focus on the intricate leaves pattern as you walk the hallway with Eddie, his socked feet thudding along softly in tandem with yours.

The silence is deafening, and you can practically hear your heart beat out of your chest when his knuckles ever so gently, ever so delicately, graze yours as he swings his hand when he walks.

“Think it’s this way,” Eddie says pointing a thick ringed finger down a hallway at a T intersection. “I’m so hungry I’m going to eat the carpet if I don’t find something to eat.”

“Should have ate while we were at the restaurant,” you poke at him, “but you were too busy being an asshole.”

Eddie chokes out a throaty laugh, “I saved your life, Tooty— how am I still an asshole?”

“I wouldn’t exactly call me-falling-because-you-tipped-my-chair-backwards saving my life, but whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart,” you barely choke out the last part before you burst into a too-tired giggle, hiding your mouth with the collar of his jacket.

His own nickname on your lips burns his insides, mocking or not he wanted to hear it again and again.

“You fight dirty, I had no idea you were into biting.” Eddie teases, his eyes bright and playful matching his smirk, the vending machine comes into view and his eyes light up even more, “oh fuck yeah, come to daddy!”

The black vending machine is lit with a flickering light over head. Eddie thumbs through his wallet and grabs out ten one dollar bills.

“Alright, sweetheart,” Eddie crooned, “pick your vice.”

Deciding on a package of orange squared crackers with cheese, Eddie buys a bag of chocolate cookies, chips, and two bags of candy.

Carrying five cans of pop from the pop machine and Eddie’s plethora of snacks, both of your arms are full.

“So back to you assaulting me—I’m going to take your dental record down to Hopper— I’m turning you in.”

Laughing harder than anyone should have at midnight, your laugh echoes off he walls and bounces around the hallway. Making Eddie’s heart soar with glee. “Turning me in huh?”

Eddie knocks his shoulder into yours, throwing you off balance slightly, “yeah, I’m turning you in, you could have rabies! And I could start foaming at the mouth in my sleep, you’re dangerous and when I get home I’m taking you to the vet!”

The flirty banter is undeniable between you, his giggles match yours as you pad slowly down the hallway. Cheeks burning, coy smiles filling the empty hallway.

Stopping in the hallway with one hip thrown out and a perfectly placed look of innocence on your face you ask in the sweetest voice you could muster, “I’m dangerous? Me?” Making sure you bat your lashes and pout your bottom lip.

Here it was, his opportunity to show you what you really meant to him. No longer laughing, his face turns very serious. Shuffling the snacks around in his arms so he has a hand free, he reaches up to your face, tracing the outline of your jaw and brushing the pad of his thumb delicately against your cheek.

“Baby,” he whispers, that velvet smooth voice on his tongue, eyes dipped in gold and yearning into your own, “I wouldn’t turn this cute face in even if you murdered that son-of-a-bitch, Mr. Derry.”

Heart rate increases, you’re sure there's a pulse where Eddie’s hand is placed on your cheek. The calloused pads of his thumbs stroking your cheek has you weak in the knees. Tongue stuck to the roof of your mouth.

“Cute?” You exclaim, feigning shock, heat trickling up your neck and planting itself into your cheeks, the warmth spreading below Eddie’s hand.

His eyes are trained on yours, flicking from your lips and back up again, and you know whatever he says next 100%, without a doubt shouldn’t be taken lightly.

“Tooty,” Eddie breathes, his voice melting around you, forming to every cell in your body and holding you tight. “You’re beautiful, and not just tonight…every single day.”

No one.

Not your parents.

Definitely, not Chad.

Nobody.

Has ever uttered those words to you. The final wall around your heart falls, crumbling at the base with Eddie holding a sledge hammer to it, begging to be let in.

This menace, prick, pervert, absolutely disgusting man. Has made you fall for him and without words has made it clear that he’s falling for you too.

Butterflies tickle your stomach the rest of the walk back to the room.

-

Steve and Leighanne are already asleep by the time you make it back, she’s wrapped tight against his bare chest, a hand threaded at the nape of his neck and through the tufts of his chest hair. His lips lay lazily against her forehead.

Robin took the comforter from the other bed and made a makeshift bed in the tub, Eddie places a can of 7-UP next to her, rustling her hair and making sure she’ll be okay for the night.

Flipping through the channels and leaning your back against the headboard, you find an episode of the Golden Girls, opening your snack crackers and nibbling into them,a can of Pepsi nestled between your knees. Eddie runs and jumps onto the bed beside you and starts ripping open his snacks, starting with the chips, and cracking open a can of Mountain Dew. Chugging the lime colored liquid until it drops down his chin.

He lets out a louder than life belch and wipes his lips with the back of his hand. Looking over at you to see if you’re impressed.

You raise up ten fingers and clap, applauding his behavior.

“I’d like to thank my fans, and the Pepsi company, for encouraging the best of burps, with the help of carbonation.” He bows and waves like he’s at the academy awards and you giggle along with him.

You both stay like that for a while, on top of the blankets, watching the Golden Girls and eating snacks, content with filling your stomachs with crappy food and over carbonated beverages.

-

The looming idea of sleeping in the same bed with Eddie is no longer something you can avoid, when a loud yawn escapes your body and has you snuggling deeper into his leather jacket.

“I—I can sleep in the chair, or on the floor.” He says quickly.

The idea of him sleeping on the floor or with a strained neck in the office chair is unacceptable to you. “No, you can sleep in the bed with me, we can—“ thinking fast for an easy solution, “we can just use different blankets.”

“Oh good,” Eddie whispers, taking off his already loosened tie, and unbuttoning his shirt, “because I would bet a million dollars that you’re a blanket thief.”

Laughing and unzipping his leather jacket, you smirk, hanging it on the back of the chair, “how do you have the vocabulary of a ten year old and a foul sailor all at the same time?”

Eddie unzips his pants and untangles his legs from the dark denim, sitting on the bed with a groan in just his boxer briefs, “I’m like a poor Peter Pan, who grew up on the wrong side of tracks, I’ll never grow up.”

Foregoing any previous thoughts of keeping the dress on, you decide to take it off, exhausted from the night, the cold seeping into your bones and chilling them made you almost delirious with needing sleep, “Can you—will you close your eyes?” You ask in a hushed voice, “at least until I lay down?”

Eddie yanks hard on the sheet and wraps it around his head in a giant makeshift blindfold. “Will this work?”

This angle gives you free range to see his body. It’s not as if you haven’t seen him like this before, but this time it felt different. Every inch of his creamed colored skin, every inky smoked out line of tattoos, the veins protruding from his muscled arms, the ruddy roughness of his knuckles, ghosting with the silver rings on his fingers and in his nipples. The fading sun colored bruises on his ribs. You could write sonnets on the way his breath expands his chest and falls back flush with the rest of his body.

It’s hard to peel your eyes away, but you manage, grabbing your dress by the bottom hem lifting it off of your body. Sliding the tights down your legs until you are completely naked besides the silk black thong. Covering yourself with the off white cotton threaded blanket on the bed, you wrap it around you and sit delicately on the other side of the bed, facing the window, and the furnace.

“I’m done,” you announce, laying your head onto the goose feather pillow and facing Eddie, curling your legs to your chest. Taking slow breaths through your nose to even out your nerves and settle yourself down, the excitement of laying next to Eddie in a bed with both of you only wearing underwear has your body throbbing.

“Finally!” He exaggerates, “were you wearing a dress from the 1800s with all those fancy layers?”

“I was having some trouble with the zipper,” you lie.

“Funny—“ Eddie preens, “I didn’t see a zipper on your dress.”

The idea of him watching you, eyes stuck on your silhouette all night, through dinner, walking to the hotel, makes you feel less bad about staring at him before you crawled into bed. You clench your thighs together.

“How would you know there wasn’t a zipper? Unless of course— you were gawking.”

Two can play this game, and what Eddie didn’t realize is that you’d gotten pretty good at bantering with him.

“Why would you say your dress had a zipper when it didn’t? Maybe you were the one gawking, I mean I get it sweetheart, I’m funny and sexy. Double whammy.”

“Good night, Eddie.” You say with a final laugh. “And I swear to God, if this bed starts jerking in any way—I’ll shave your head and bleach your eyebrows.”

He lets out a laugh loud enough that it makes Steve roll over, scolding you both, about the time and needing to get some sleep. Always in mom mode.

“Sorry dad,” Eddie whispers, giggling like a little kid as he tucks himself in, and turns off the tv and the light between the two beds.

You close your eyes and breathe deeply, allowing sleep to take over your body. Sleep finds you quickly, a deep dreamless sleep, you aren’t sure if you’re awake or not when you feel a pair of lips on the crown of your hair line, a hand moving your hair away from your face, and a voice whispering to you, “good night, pretty girl.”

-

The next morning, Steve drops you and Eddie off at your house. The ride home seemed to drag on forever, everyone was hungover and trying to stay awake. Robin having her head out of the window for most of the drive. Still gagging from the night before.

Getting into Hawkins, Eddie turns towards you, a menacing smirk on his lips and a devil gleam in his eyes, “rock, paper scissors for dibs on first shower?”

“You’re on Munson,”

-

“I just don’t understand how paper beats rock!” Eddie complains as he takes a piss talking to you as you take a shower. The humidtiy from the bathroom moistens his curls, frizzing them into oblivion, “in what fucking universe does a paper lying over a goddamn rock win?”

Placing the razor against the white pillowy peaks of the shaving cream you slide it up your leg, careful to not cut your knee. “Don’t be a sore loser because you chose rock three times in a row.

“It’s the most common way to win!” He whines, slamming the toilet seat down and plopping himself on top of it. “Are you almost done? I feel like I’ve been freezing for 24 hours, I never warmed up lastnight.”

Rinsing the last bit of conditioner from your hair you turn the water off, throwing a hand out from the shower curtain to reach for your robe, wrapping it around you tightly, and opening the shower, you notice that Eddie looks paler than usual.

“Are you getting sick?” You place the back of your hand on his forehead, it’s clammy and abnormally warm. The twinkle he almost always has in his eyes is gone, he looks rundown. “In the nicest way possible, you look like hell.”

“I feel like shit,” Eddie complains.

“Here,” you offer, starting the water for him, “take a hot shower and I’ll go make us some food.”

-

When Eddie gets out of the shower the kitchen smells of sweet thick batter, sprinkled with a hint of cinnamon. The waffle iron you had bought with Nancy before Halloween worked like a dream, it was in better condition than you had thought.

Two plates are sitting on the counter, as Eddie walks into the kitchen, wearing a hoodie and sweats, he comes behind you, moving your hips gently to the side as he peers over your shoulder to see what you’re making.

“Waffles?!” He squeals into your ear, “I didn’t know we even had a waffle press thing,” he says, messing up your still damp hair with a tousle, “wait is that the thing that’s kept in the bathroom under the sink?”

Racking your brain you try to envision what he’s thinking of, “no Eddie that would be Nancy’s hot rollers, for her hair..”

“Well that’s not edible,” he says walking to the fridge and pulling out his jug of milk.

Hollering over your shoulder and opening the waffle iron to carefully remove the perfect round breakfast delicacy from the iron with a fork, you announce, “that’s why they’re in the bathroom, under the sink. I bought the waffle iron when Nancy and I went shopping a few weeks ago, how are you feeling?”

Taking a big gulp of milk Eddie mutters, “better, much better, I’m just really tired.”

Plating the waffles and getting the syrup from the cabinet you set the plates down at the table, bringing over two glasses and two sets of silverware, “can you grab the orange juice, and the butter?”

Bringing the requested items to the table, Eddie sets them down, next to the napkin holder. Grabbing a knife hastily and spreading the pale yellow butter around the crispy pockets of the waffle, melting into delicious puddles of savory goodness, awaiting the courtship to be reunited with the sticky sweet syrup to combine into heavenly wedded bliss.

Cutting his waffle and diving in, the kitchen is surrounded by sound of Eddie’s satisfied moans, “fuck,” he cries with a mouthful of food, shoveling more in, “this is so fucking good, you’re a saint— no no! Wait, an angel.”

The waffles were good, the perfect amount of crispy and soft. Eddie finished both of his waffles in record time.

“So where did you get this thing?” he asked curiously, pointing to the waffle iron on the counter.

“With Nancy—oh! I completely forgot!” you say excitedly, “I got a record too, it’s by the rest of them near your record player, I didn’t want to use it and break it.”

Eddie pads over to the record player and thumbs through the stack on the shelf.

He had already been staring at the record for over a minute before you spoke again, saying his name asking if he wanted another waffle.

“Damn,” he interrupts you sniffing loudly, “I haven’t heard this since…”

He carefully pulls the sleeve from the record and slots it in place, putting the needle in place. The soft twang of Bobbie Gentry’s guitar plays as she plucks the strings, a few beats in and her sultry, smoky voice begins singing, retelling the story of the day she found out the fate of Billie Joe.

Eddie sits cross legged on the floor next to the record player, staring in awe. His socked feet tucked under his thighs. Elbows digging into his legs.

His mind drifts to a small house on the outskirts of Hawkins, the paint peeling and chipping away, a dog named Ruby running alongside him as he pedals his bike up the dirt lane.

She was standing in the kitchen, her soft brown curls waving behind her as she ashed a cigarette and cut his ham sandwich into squares, taking the crust off. She hummed along to the waning wonky tunes of the radio as Bobbie Gentry sang about Billie Joe. Her smile fading in his memory.

He never allowed himself to think of her. Despite what Uncle Wayne and the therapist at the stuffy office with the seafoam green painted walls, the cheerful posters with kids and their perfect families staring at him as he glared at the floor, toe of his converse trying to dig a hole through the tile. It only brought him sadness. It was something he couldn’t talk about, not to anyone. The panic attacks in the night when he dreamt of the day she was taken from him, right in front of his big doe eyes, would send Wayne into a frenzy. Helping Eddie breath, making the small child ground himself with his surroundings. So he moved on, throwing himself into music, and his friends. Anything to keep his mind from thinking of that day. But here in your living room, twenty years later, it was all he could think of.

Her perfume, hints of jasmine and lilac a tinge of cigarette smoke underneath. The way her glasses were perched on her head as she read through the paper. Her light brown eyes, like caramel apples you’d see at the fair. Her long fingers always thumping along to whatever song she heard. The gift of a piano player. The way she would dance with him in the living room, barefoot and giggly as she swung him around and around. Those were the good memories, the ones before she was ripped away from him.

The song finishes and Eddie leans up onto his knees, placing the needle to replay it again, this time the warm tears are flowing freely, running down his cheeks. He no longer cared if you saw him cry like a baby.

You’re standing at the edge of the kitchen watching him. You figured his mom was dead by the way he never mentioned her. Chrissy once asked him about his parents after he mentioned his Uncle Wayne, and he blew it off, like he blew off lots of things, “shit, think she joined the circus, married the world’s strongest man.” You wonder if the fib was easier for him to tell himself. Rather have her still around, happy and breathing than what she actually was. You’ve only seen him like this one other time and that was after you saw Chad at the grocery store.

Steve had told you how concerned he was when he came in to talk with you. How scared he was, how bad he felt that he wasn’t around to protect you when you needed it. And just like he did for you, you’d do for him.

Walking gently towards him you stand behind him, not sure if lightly touching his shoulder would cross a boundary but wanting to reassure him, you do it anyway. The pads of your fingers daintily skim his shoulders, running soft figure eight patterns. His face is hidden by his curtain of hair but you can hear him sniffling softly. A soft squeeze of his shoulder and he wraps an arm around your bare calf, holding onto dear life as you pull him into you. His death grip on your leg almost has you falling over. You find yourself threading your fingers through his wet hair. Rubbing along his scalp, his shoulders jump and shake with a deep sigh as the song finishes again. Eddie peels himself from you and turns the record player off. Standing and looking at the ground. Toeing the carpet with his sock.

“I have…,” he says, clearing his throat, trying like hell to gain composure, “I haven’t heard that song in years… it was her favorite.”

Reaching for his hand your fingers find their way into the spaces between his. Squeezing and rubbing his pointer figure with the pad of your thumb. “Eddie,” you whisper to him, your small soft voice reaching out to him beckoning him.

His eyes turn to you, tear filled and red, his body shaking with a light sob. Instincts kick in and you don’t realize what’s happening before it does, you drag him down the hallway, into your room. The same room where he comforted you in the warmth of his arms, you sit down on your bed, your back to the headboard and bring him down with you, his head in your lap. his arms wrapped tight around your bare thighs. Brushing his hair away from his face with your fingers, his body is racked with sobs, the tops of your thighs wet with his tears. You rub his back, comforting him and whispering to him that you’re sorry, that it’s okay, that you’re here for him.

The dishes would have to wait.

When you wake, you’re snuggled down into the confinements of your bed. Blankets covering both you and Eddie, his arms wrapped tightly around your middle like a child with a balloon at the fair, afraid to let go. His body is curved with yours, his light snores tickling your hair. Not waking him, you gently fall back asleep, the thought that he was right, skids across your mind.

Eddie was the first guy to sleep in your bed— and your heart leaped when you selfishly hoped he never wanted to leave it.

A/N: SEE YOU IN VOL: VIII HOPE YOU ALL ENJOYED

[this message is for read more —, you big nasty, smelling bitch. Why you took me off the mf schedule with your trifflin’ dirty ass. Big bitch Oompa Loompa body ass bitch, I’m comin up there and I’m gonna beat the fuck …… (it’s a reference from TikTok) BUT TRY ME READMORE TRY ME]

[sorbetisfruity]

Imagine you and some of the TWST guys are preparing for a little party. Whether it be a tea party, or maybe an unbirthday party, idk but THERES A PARTY GOING ON OKAY?

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Obviously Ace and Deuce are there, and so is Grim and Jack and Epel. They practically follow you everywhere so of course they’d help you set up!! Even if they really don’t wanna.

Riddle, Leona, and Vil are there too. Leona doesn’t really wanna be there, but he can’t let his poor weak herbivore do it all on their own, can he?

No, he can’t. He likes you too much to leave you alone because he knows only like, 3 people are gonna help you out.

Riddle is there to make sure no one breaks any rules and behaves accordingly and Vil is there to make sure everything is absolutely perfect. It’s a big party after all, and anything other than perfect could ruin his reputation!!! And we wouldn’t want that, would we??:(

You’re setting the table, trying to make everything as perfectly set as possible. Yet no matter how straight and how perfect you put down those plates and silverware, Vil is correcting it and criticizing you.

“Is it really that hard to set the table correctly Prefect? I know not having magic shouldn’t effect your ability to set a table..” he’d complain, fixing yet another fork you apparently laid down incorrectly.

And you’d stay quiet, getting more and more upset by the minute as you continued setting the table.

And everyone could tell you were getting fed up, but decided to stay quiet for their own good, because they know how Vil is.

“Prefect, at this point it might be better for me to set this table. You’re doing it all wrong. It looks absolutely hideous.” He complained again, making you look up from the fork he asked you to adjust.

“Vil, it looks fine. Can’t you go bother somebody else? I know how to set a table.” You finally talked back, making everyone look up and turn to you two.

“It doesn’t look fine. It looks horrendous. Just like your skin. Have you been doing that skincare routine I showed you?” He fussed, reaching out to touch your face, “and besides, the table only looks a little bit better because I fixed it. Like I said, it doesn’t take magic to set a table, now does it? You should be able to do this with no issues, right?”

You backed away from him, huffing as you did so. “No, I haven’t. I’ve been too busy planning this party and with school and with you guys. I don’t have time for that stuff right now.”

Leona then interrupts, getting in between you two.

“Leave the herbivore alone, table looks fine,” he mumbled with a yawn, “if it looks so awful, maybe you should do it yourself.” He leaned against you, closing his eyes as he spoke.

You sent Leona a thankful smile, looking at Vil as he glared sharply at the both of you.

“Are you being serious? Leona, look at it. It’s a mess. Great Seven, you can’t even set a table correctly. What are you good for, anyways? You’re magicless, you lack strength in general, you can’t even take care of yourself, and your grades are slipping!”

“You’re awful. I will never, never understand why the Black Mirror brought you here.”

The room went silent. The dishes in your hand went clattering to the floor, some shattering on impact.

You knew he can be an asshole, but fuck man.

That hurt.

That hurt a lot.

“You know what, Vil? Fuck you. I’m fucking trying, okay? But it’s hard to focus on things when I’m tackling one overblot and problem after another. I know you’re stressed out and shit, but you don’t need to take it out on me.” You took a deep breath, glaring at him as you teared up.

“I’m so fucking done.”

Before you knew it, your eyes were filled with tears and you were running out the door, hearing your friends shout for you as you ran.

God you wanna go home..

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Oh how I love angst!!

I really wanna make a part 2!! Would you guys like that? Lemme knowwwww!!

If I do make a part two, we’ll see Neige and get a lil more info about Vil and why he said what he said🤞🤞

[angelfoxx]

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° ❝ A DIFFERENT NAME. ❞

…what they (endearingly) call you.

FEATURING: simon “ghost” riley, john “soap” mactavish, keegan p russ

WARNINGS: suggestive + mild nsfw. mild. also implied fem!reader for keegan’s part

NOTE/S: i love keegan so fucking much i want to plant my face between his legs and mash my face into his lap

★ SIMON “GHOST” RILEY.

✦ For a while, nothing. The progression is your callsign, to your last name, and then to your first name, and then it kind of stops there, because that’s a lot.

✦ At some point, probably when you two are casually working together — not on the field but just back at base, maybe you’re doing chores or something of the like — maybe he’s feeling a little sappy, or maybe he’s just a little tired, but either way, he’s not gatekeeping his words. He’s not watching himself.

✦ You pass him a mug of tea, and he takes it with a grunt and “thanks, love.”

✦ Absolute fucking silence.

✦ He stumbles into a short apology, and you almost fall over yourself trying to tell him that it’s okay and actually it’s really endearing and you really like being called that. He actually argues against you, cites safety as one of the reasons that he can’t call you that and get used to calling you that — and then, at some point, he runs out of rebuttals and all that’s left is the fact that you want him to keep calling you that.

✦ It takes him a long time to get comfortable with it, but over time, “love” becomes his new nickname of choice for you. At some point, he seems to say it more than he addresses you by your actual name. In public, he doesn’t usually call for you by name, and if he does, it’s your last name or maybe your first name. In private, he eventually almost solely refers to you as love. He also does it excessively. “G’morning, love. You tired, love? That one’s yours, love.” Et cetera.

★ JOHN “SOAP” MACTAVISH.

✦ Because he’s the way he is, chances are you’re being called by a nickname more than you’re being called by your name. And not necessarily, like, lovey-dovey ones.

✦ He’ll call you by your callsign on missions, right? And then you get back to base afterward and you’re both still sweaty and gross and he’ll come over and clap you on the back and go “that’s how it’s fuckin’ done, sugartits!” and you get to respond in kind by calling him whatever stupid nickname you can think of. “Dickweed” makes him laugh.

✦ At some point in the relationship, though, you guys don’t just fuck around 24/7. To be clear, the stupid nicknames are always going to stick around and the entire base knows that the two of you seem to be in a headlock over who can come up with the worse one, but as time goes on, there are genuine sweet ones thrown in.

✦ “Baby” is his favorite. Horrendously basic considering that he mashes words up for the most abhorrent nicknames he can make up, but he seems to like the simple shortness of it. It slips off of his tongue so nicely and it seems like, while his stupid nicknames make him laugh, “baby” makes him smile like an idiot.

✦ He’s most prone to using it in private (it’s deliciously low and gravelly when he’s got his eyes lidded and mouth curved into a wicked smirk and he’s knelt so casually between your legs) or in public. Especially if it’s a night where everyone is training or gaming. Any sort of situation in which you can beat someone else, he’s calling you by it. “Get ‘im, baby!” “Fuck ‘im up, baby.” Things like that. If/when you win in sparring matches or poker or whatever the fuck else, he’s very prone to celebrating on your behalf and referring to you as “my fuckin’ baby/girl/boy”.

★ KEEGAN P RUSS.

✦ this man could call me whatever the fuck he wants and i’d go weak in the knees. he could call me shitbrains in that sexy fucking voice of his and id be like yes yes shitbrains is me that’s me can I choke on your dick sir can i gargle your balls can i

✦ He really likes to call you by your last name. He makes a point out of using it as much as he can. If you have a callsign, he usually disregards it and just continues to call you by your last name. If you ask him about it, he’ll play dumb. and he’ll be biting back a smirk and then you’ll get on your knees and suck him off cause why haven’t you started doing that already

✦ Eventually, though, he might feel inclined to tease you. He’s obviously not opposed to doing the dirty work for the Ghosts — he’ll climb through sewers, stake out in muddy creeks, et cetera. If you make a comment about those environments to him, he’s prone to laughing at you and then, god damn the man, he’ll tease. “Not good enough for you, princess?”

✦ You sort of freeze up. He notices your hesitation and briefly thinks it’s because he’s possibly incurred a friendly fight but no, it’s because of that fucking name. Keegan’s blessed with the ability to fluster you very easily and so him calling you fucking princess has you sort of stumbling over yourself.

✦ He tortures you with it. Tortures you. He calls you princess or doll (because both make you sound little and weak, and he loves trying to get under your skin) when there are other people almost within earshot. He knows they can’t hear him — he’s insanely perceptive. You don’t know that, though, and so when you’re gearing up for a mission and he stoops down on his walk by and tells you that “you got a smudge on your cheek, princess”, he almost cackles upon your eyes going wide and your response being to immediately scold him for it. He’ll keep it coolly professional on public comms, but he’s tormenting you with it when you’re face-to-face or on a channel exclusive to the two of you.

✦ He tortures you with it in the best way. He does. Because he’s calling you princess while you two are working and he’s calling you princess when he’s looking to get a rise out of you but he’s also calling you princess when he’s got you bound so expertly in his private barracks and he’s also calling you princess when you’re straddling him in the driver’s seat of one of the repossessed armored cars and—

✦ LORD